#i just need to come up with a good name that sparks joy

[vilnan]

i honestly can't decide if i want ashara and zev's kid to have an antivan or elven name

[honkytonk-hangman]

Good In Bed

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Warnings: brief mentions of smut but not smutty, jake kinda being an asshole, reader getting upset and yelling at him, fluff ending all the way baybay

Notes: u have no clue how much i love u @roleycoleyland for literally being the reason this got finished &lt;;3 <;3 <3 title from Good In Bed by Dua Lipa <3

Masterlist

Jake pumps his hips hard into yours one final time, before he at last collapses beside you, chest sweaty and heaving, his eyes closed and his face raised to the ceiling. Your position had shifted from the pure force of your fucking, and somehow your head had fallen off the side of his bed, leaving you hanging slightly as you too try to catch your breath.

“Damn, I’ve missed this,” he says a short time later, shifting himself fully out from between your legs, and tucking his hands behind his head, the afterglow of a good lay lingering on him beautifully. Once upon a time his words might’ve sparked pride or even joy, but now they’re just one more cut that stings painfully before being swallowed up. You note sourly he doesn’t say he’s missed you, despite the fact he’s been gone ten weeks now, and against your better judgement you missed him.

You lay there on his bed in the late evening and regret every moment that led you to this point. You shouldn't have picked up when he called tonight, you shouldn't have come over for drinks, and you definitely shouldn't have had sex with him again.

It’s not that Jake isn't a nice guy, well, he isn’t always, but for the most part he was a mile more decent than most of the guys you’d actually dated in the past. From the start he was straightforward and blunt with you about what this thing between you would be, how much he was offering you, and to his credit, he rarely seemed to step outside of that. And like an idiot, you’d gone and gotten feelings for him anyway.

You should have stopped seeing him long before his most recent deployment, and you shouldn't have been there the night before he left for him to hit you with another straightforward and blunt assertion that you were only fuck buddies, nothing more.

The thing is, you and Jake got on well, so well in fact most people assumed that you were an item, and at this point maybe you were blinded by your feelings, but you couldn’t exactly see why you shouldn't be, aside form the fact that Jake didn’t seem to be interested in any sort of commitment, despite what that offered was basically what you had now, only he didn’t have to go out of his way to break your heart once a week.

After the last time, before he’d left for ten weeks, you’d sworn off him for good. You put his name in your phone as ‘DO NOT CALL’, you downloaded a few dating apps, you’d even been on a few dates… and then Jake had sauntered back into your life, invited you over for the night and just like none of your progress existed in the first place, you’d come at his beck and call.

You lay there feeling pathetic as it sinks in what you’ve done, but swallow back your emotions for now. You were an adult, you chose to do this with him tonight, you knew what it would do. Warm fingers make you jump as they wrap around your wrist, and you glance up to watch as Jake effortlessly tugs you back onto the bed, closer to him, never letting his hand leave your skin as he releases you to skim his fingers up and over your shoulder, drawing you even closer until you’re almost cuddling. You nearly pull away.

Jake wasn’t a post-sex cuddler, not really anyway. Aftercare? No problem, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of session that required aftercare, so you’re more than a little surprised by his continued affections, staying still as he curls himself onto his side to face you, hand dropping to grab at your thigh, which he hikes over his, as if this was something you normally did.

“You may need to give me a few before we go again,” you tell him, realising this position was probably just him gearing up for round two. Jake peeks an eye open at you, and lifts an eyebrow as though what you’ve said is very funny.

“I don’t think I’ve got more to give tonight,” he says, adjusting your leg around him again, pulling you in even more. You refrain from frowning, if only to avoid explaining to him why. Jake closes his eyes again and lets out a contented sigh. His hand stays curled around your leg, though he begins rhythmically smoothing his thumb back and forth over your skin after a few moments, and you begin to wonder at what point he’s going to withdraw from you like he usually does.

Luckily you’re saved from the dreaded wait, your phone buzzing loud and distractingly. You use it as the perfect excuse to extract yourself from him, instead moving to a sitting up cross-legged position as you reach for your phone, and draw the screen closer to your chest when you see who it’s from. Jake seems only a little disgruntled by your movement, though gets over it quickly, replacing his hand almost exactly where it once was around your thigh.

“What's going on?” he asks casually, eyes closed again as you tap out a reply. You spare him half a glance, but don’t feel much point in lying to him about things, seeing as he’d never done so with you.

“Just this guy I met on Tinder a while back.” you tell him lightly, completely missing how his eyes pop open immediately and he stares up at you with an unreadable expression.

“You’re on Tinder?” he asks, voice blank, finally making you look down at him properly. You blink and shrug, before going back to your phone.

“Sure, I mean, I don’t know how else to meet people these days, I kinda don’t get out much when Dagger’s not around,” you inform him, shifting in your place slightly as he withdraws his hand from your thigh to lay over his sternum instead.

Feeling the mood shift, but unsure as to why, you force out a laugh and shrug.

“It’s been sorta nice, trying to get back out there again properly, not just, you know, settling or whatever.” that makes Jake react clearly, frowning at you while pushing himself into an upright position. “Settling?!” he repeats, though it’s not really a question. You stare at him in confusion.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m getting past the point in my life where I wanna be doing this,” you getsure between the two of you. “All the time.”

Jake blinks at you in clear offence, before quickly his entire demeanour seems to change all at once, and his expression falls into a somewhat familiar cocky grin.

“Alright, I get it,” he says, only further confusing you and you’re caught off guard enough that when he reaches out and plucks your phone from your hands, you don’t have time to react.

“Hey! Jake!” you protest, suddenly a little panicked as he very easily plays keep-away from you, using one of his hands to do something on your screen, while the other easily bats away you various attempts to swipe your phone back.

“You don’t need any of this shit, alright?” Jake tells you almost condescendingly.

“Jake!” you warn, your voice growing less calm by the moment.

“There, gone. Deleted.” he says proudly, before at last turning your phone screen around to face you, and letting you take it back off him, which you do hurriedly, snatching it away and standing up from the bed.

“What the fuck?!” you demand, looking agape between your now tinder-less phone, and Jake. The blond looks more relaxed now, and all of a sudden any thought of keeping your brooding and your feelings to yourself goes out the window. Your eyes prickle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do that?!” you shout. Jake has the smarts to at least drop his smug grin, but now he stares up at you in even more annoying surprise.

“I was just–” he starts, but you don’t even care what he has to say anymore.

“You don’t get to leave for ten weeks after, especially after reminding me that you don’t want me, and then just show up again and ruin my chances at finding someone who actually does!” your raised voice wobbles, and you don’t bother trying to hide your sniffling as you continue to lay into him. “That’s not fair! You’re being unfair!” you cry. “How many girls did you take home while you were away, huh?”

Jake blinks at you, a shade of indignance colouring his features now.

“None.” he tells you, but you can only scoff.

“Right. And how many did you flirt with? How many did you buy drinks for?” he stays silent at those questions, either not wanting to answer or no longer seeing the point in the face of your tirade. You stare at him until your eyesight blurs completely before at last you reel back from him.

Gasping a little at the state you’ve worked yourself into, you turn half away from him and wipe desperately at your eyes.

“Baby–” Jake starts, his fingers brushing your wrist, but you jerk away this time, pulling your hand and your phone to your chest.

“I need to go. I shouldn’t have come,” you tell him, collecting your clothes quickly before escaping into his bathroom.

You can't help but feel a little pathetic as you cry harder once you’re in the relative privacy of his ensuite, a strange but familiar disappointment lancing through you when he doesn't come after you. However upon swinging the door back open once you’re dressed, you find Jake standing in front of his bed, sweatpants now fastened around his hips, and a determined expression on his features.

“I’m not letting you leave like this,” he tells you firmly, as if he has any say in what you do. You scoff at him, but don’t cover up your still dripping eyes. If anything, his resolve seems to strengthen.

“Look, be pissed at me, I deserve it, but I’m not letting you drive home when you’ve been drinking,” his voice leaves little room for argument, and even though in the back of your mind you know he’s actually being the decent version of himself right now, you can’t help but snarl at him in disgust.

“Fine! Then I’ll call an uber. I’m not staying here.'' You're aware you sound a little childish, and you feel a small pang of regret when Jake’s face flashes with hurt that is quickly covered up by sternness. Going against all the signs you’re putting out to him right now, Jake moves forward and stops your movements to find your shoes by laying both hands on your shoulders. When you look up at him, eyes still blinking away tears, he seems sincere and pleading.

“Just… just stay here, I’ll sleep in the lounge, alright? Just don’t go home like this.”

You want to snap at him that he has no right to ask that of you, but somehow you think he already knows that, and is still asking anyway. You realise dully, that just like you always wanted, Jake was chasing you now, though, you aren’t sure you really want it anymore.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you–” he cuts himself off, just as you shrug out of his hold.

“Please do not talk to me right now.” is all you can manage by way of agreeing to his terms.

You can barely bring yourself to look at him as he goes about collecting up his pillow and a spare blanket, and a part of you feels cruel, but the bigger part of you is proud that you’ve finally put your foot down. Maybe at some other time you’d let him talk, but right now all you can think about or hear is every moment prior to this night when he’s hurt you.

You’d hoped you’d at least be able to fall asleep somewhat fast, but the longer you lay there, the longer you go over and over every little detail of your night until you find yourself downstairs, wrapped up in the throw blanket from Jake’s bed, and standing a few feet away from him on the couch. He sits up immediately when he noticed you, chucking his phone down and focusing intently on you. You note he doesn’t open his mouth, or attempt to speak yet, and you almost regret telling him not to earlier.

You stare at one another hard, until you have to suppress a small hiccup, at which point you frustratedly wipe your face with the back of your hand and cross your arms in front of you.

“Why did you do that?” You ask, amazed your voice sounds as firm as it does. Jake stares up at you with a mixture of uncertainty and something you want to say is remorse but you can’t bring yourself to believe right now that he would be.

“I’m not good at this stu—”

“—No, tell me why you did it.” You cut him off, not willing to listen to his self-pity right now. Jake closes his mouth and blinks up at you, staring intently for a few moments before he shifts in his seat. “Did you miss me?” You prompt after he continues to stare, eyes somewhat pleading. You understand relationships and vulnerability are hard for him, you’re willing to give him this olive branch for now. To his credit, Jake immediately nods, his hands coming together across his spread thighs to wring anxiously.

“Yes. I’m sorry—”

“—If you ever try any of that shit again, I’m kicking your ass,” you tell him. Jake blinks, then straightens up, and nods again. Your lip wobbles and this time when he reaches a hand out for you, he doesn’t grab you, but waits for you to shuffle forward toward him before pulling you in.

He tugs you forward to come stand between his legs, and bows his forehead to rest against your abdomen, his hands anchored at your hips.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you,” Jake mumbles, loud enough for you to hear, and you know this is a big admission for him.

“I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but you can just, you know, tell me that…” you reply, letting your hands fall into his hair where you begin to smooth down some of the mess you made of it earlier. “I want you,” you say, realising while he may subconsciously know that, you’ve also never told him before. “I would never have let you mess me around if I didn’t,” you add with a short laugh, and flick his ear gently. Jake huffs, and lifts his head so he’s looking up at you now, chin resting on your belly.

“I don’t want you to date anyone else. I should have told you that back when I realised it…” he says softly, looking for the first time since you’ve known him like holding your eye contact is uncomfortable for him. “Is that okay?” He asks even quieter.

“Only if you don’t half ass it,” you peer down at him with playful scepticism.

Jake’s fingers at your hips tighten and his eyes narrow.

“I don’t half-ass anything,” he tells you sourly, before making a face. “Tonight notwithstanding.” he adds after a moment. You can’t help it then, you chortle, and hold the sides of his face. Jake smiles, seemingly proud of himself for making you laugh, and he adjusts his hold on you, moving his hands down to tug you into him, so your knees buckle and you’re forced to catch yourself on his shoulders just as he manoeuvres you to sit on his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says, far more seriously, leaning his forehead against yours now that you’re face to face. You cup his cheeks again, and dip forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You will be out on the curb so fast if you fuck me around again,” you tell him cheerfully, making him laugh this time.

“Noted,” he says, before he steals another kiss, longer this time.

When he pulls back at last, you feel yourself relax fully against him, and move to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asks after a few seconds. You nod, stifling a suspiciously timed yawn, and yelp a little when he scoops your legs under his arm and stands, grinning smugly all the way back upstairs.

[writingforstraykids]

Okiee,

Hear me out. Need more dad skz series. I loved the Felix one so much 🤗🤗 Maybe Hyun or Minho as single dad series 🥹

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I don't know why but Minho with a toddler sent our thoughts spiraling and @galaxycatdrawz and I came up with enough for a proper series. I hope you enjoy it dear🤭🖤

Always back to you

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 7716

Summary: Balancing his career and personal life as a single dad of a toddler isn't exactly always easy for Min. Luckily he has you, his assistant and the only person his son lets close enough. Minho couldn't be more grateful for your presence in their life.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The summer air is heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine as Minho walks hand in hand with his son Minjun through the bustling streets of their quiet neighborhood. The day is fading into a warm, golden evening, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as they make their way to the local park.

Minho, usually surrounded by stage lights and the constant hum of a lively crowd, cherished these moments of normalcy. His career often pulled him into whirlwinds of tours and interviews, making these quiet, uninterrupted days with Minjun so much more important and special.

As they approach the park, Minjun’s grip tightens with excitement, his little legs speeding towards the familiar rusty swings and the slightly chipped slide he claims as his castle. Minho watches, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as Minjun throws himself into the simple joy of play. His son's laughter rings clear, blending seamlessly with the distant sounds of other children.

“Daddy, come!” Minjun calls out, tugging at Minho’s jeans, pulling him towards the sandbox.

Minho sits down beside Minjun, rolling up his sleeves and helping him dig and mold the damp sand. They work together, Minho guiding Minjun’s small hands to shape the walls and towers. He listens intently as Minjun explains the details of each tower and the imagined dragons that would guard them.

“Daddy, dragons need names!” Minjun declares, his brow furrowed in the serious concentration of a three-year-old.

“How about Flame and Spark?” Minho suggests, watching as Minjun’s face lights up with approval.

“Yes!” Minjun beams, his hands moving with purpose as he places tiny sticks to represent the fearsome dragons.

As they played, Minho felt the weight of his other world—the stage, the lights, the music—melt away. Here, in the sandbox, none of that existed. There were no cameras, no managers, no fans. Just him and Minjun, building a sand fortress strong enough to withstand any siege, imaginary or otherwise.

After their castle was deemed sufficiently dragon-guarded, Minjun tugs at Minho’s hand, leading him to the ice cream stand nestled at the corner of the park. The line is short, and soon Minjun is proudly holding a cone much too big for him, dripping chocolate down his arm.

“Look, Daddy! It’s melting!” Minjun giggles, licking his arm in an attempt to catch the runaway ice cream.

Minho pulls out some napkins, cleaning up the sticky mess with a practiced hand. He watches Minjun attack the cone with a grin, chocolate smearing over his cheeks and nose.

“Is it good?” Minho asks, giggling, his heart swelling at the sight of such simple happiness.

“So good!” Minjun announces, offering Minho a taste. The ice cream is sweet, and the rich chocolate flavor is a perfect end to their day out.

They find a bench nearby. Minho listens as Minjun rambles on about the adventures of Flame and Spark, his imagination running wild. The park begins to empty as families head home for dinner, the sky painted in strokes of orange and pink. “Dumpling?” Minho asks softly, and his son looks up at him with big, brown eyes. “Daddy needs to work tomorrow again.”

“Daddy, why?” Minjun’s question comes softly, almost lost in the breeze.

Minho’s heart clenches. It is a question he dreads, knowing his answers might never fully satisfy the curiosity of a three-year-old. He pulls Minjun closer, holding him in a gentle embrace. “You know how Daddy dances and sings for many people?” Minho starts, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. Minjun nods, his eyes wide. “Well, sometimes Daddy has to go places so all those people can see him perform. But I always come back. Do you know why?” Minjun shakes his head, his eyes searching Minho’s. “Because you are my most important audience. And I promise, no matter where I go, I will always come back to you,” Minho says, his words heavy with the truth of his emotions.

Minjun seems to try and comprehend this for a moment, then smiles, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Promise?” he holds up his pinky.

“Promise,” Minho links his pinky with Minjun’s, sealing the vow. “Let's go home?”

“Home,” he nods satisfied.

Minho would've never had a child this young in this industry if he would've known what would happen. He and his wife got married rather young as well, soon deciding they'd like to have a kid. Mainly because she didn't want to be alone so much with him gone for work often. Everything seemed fine until it turned out they'd be having a boy and not a girl. His wife had wished for a girl dearly and seemed disappointed. Maybe he ignored how much because once their little wonder was there, his wife soon distanced herself from both of them. They were already in the process of getting a divorce when Minho had accidentally listened in to a phone call from her saying she'd probably give up their son for adoption.

Minho knew he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't risk his sweet baby ending up in a family that maybe wouldn't treat him well, so he had long talks with his friends, who promised to support him. Chan made sure to back him when they talked to their boss, making sure that Minjun could stay at the company or on tour. They all knew Minho would be able to focus on his work more, knowing he was within reach when his little boy needed him. The only issue at hand was how much Minjun dreaded being separated from Minho, barely trusting his friends to take care of him for a while.

That was until you came along. Somehow, you found a way to the little boy's heart that made him trust you. You were the only one besides Minho who could calm him down and keep him occupied. Initially, you've simply been Minho's assistant, helping him keep track of his schedule and everything. But being with Minho meant being with Minjun.

Through this, you grew rather close with all of them, becoming a vital part of their group. Minho was thankful to have you around, and you two worked well together. You love taking care of the little one and you would've never expected to get so close to them, especially Minho, seeing him during his rawest moments.

-

Minho is up early, as usual, feeling the quiet anticipation that always comes with a new day. Today, he'd take Minjun with him to dance practice.

The morning was a rush of activity. Minho prepared a quick breakfast, all the while keeping one eye on Minjun, who seemed happy about accompanying him to work.

"Are you ready, baby?" Minho asked, slipping on Minjun's small backpack filled with snacks, a change of clothes, and, of course, his favorite bunny plushie. Jisung had bought it for Minjun's second birthday and he hasn't left the house without it ever since.

"Yes, Daddy!" Minjun chirps, practically bouncing on his toes. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Minho can't help but laugh as he scoops up his son and heads out the door.

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's questions about everything he saw. Each question is punctuated with wide-eyed wonder, making Minho smile. He explains as much as he can, from the tallest buildings brushing the sky to the bustling morning crowds. Upon arriving at the studio, Minho sets Minjun down, taking his hand as they walk inside. The building was already buzzing with activity, music faintly echoing from the practice rooms.

"Guys, look who I brought!" Minho announces as they enter the main dance studio. The music stops abruptly, and the boys turn around, their faces lighting up at the sight of Minjun.

"Minjunnie!" Chan exclaims, his voice full of warmth. He crouches down to Minjun's level, greeting him with a gentle high-five. "Look how much you've grown already again!"

The other members crowd around, each taking turns to say hello. Felix shows Minjun a quick magic trick, pulling a coin from behind his ear, which delighted Minjun to no end. Hyunjin hands him a small package of his favorite gummy bears, and Innie helps open it.

“Y/nnie should be here soon,” Jisung tells them, glancing up from his phone.

Minjun peeks up at the sound of your name, bouncing excitedly. “Y/nnie?” he asks with wide eyes, turning to Minho.

“Yeah, Y/nnie will play with you,” he laughs at his son’s excitement.

“Gosh, he really loves him,” Seungmin laughs.

“As he should, Y/n is taking such good care of him,” Changbin chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly.

Minho sets up a small, cozy corner for Minjun with some toys and a soft blanket. "You can play here while Daddy practices, okay? I'll check on you all the time."

Minjun nods, already distracted by the toys, but his eyes keep straying to the center of the room where the dance practice will take place.

You join them soon after, greeting them all with a wave. “Hi, buddy,” you greet Minjun cheerfully and sit down on his blanket next to him.

“Hi,” he smiles at you happily, handing you his fire truck. “Play?”

As the practice kicks off, Minho joins the rest of the group in the center. The music pounds through the speakers, a rhythmic base that fills the room with vibrant energy. Minho was in his element, his body moving with precision and grace, a testimony to years of practice and passion.

Minjun watches, wide-eyed, from his corner. The sight of his dad and the others dancing seemed to fascinate him. His little feet tap along to the beat, and it isn't long before he stands up, mimicking the moves in his own adorable way. He stumbles and lands on his butt, giggling at himself as you help him back up again.

“You're okay, dear?” you chuckle, and he nods.

Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Minho felt a surge of pride. During a brief water break, he walks over to you. "Do you want to try dancing with us for a bit?" he asks.

Minjun's enthusiastic "Yes!" was all the answer Minho needed. He leads Minjun to the center of the room, the members clearing some space for them. Minho shows him a simple move, a gentle sway combined with a clap. Minjun follows eagerly, his small body moving in sync with Minho's.

The room is soon filled with cheers and claps from the other members and you, encouraging Minjun, who beams under the attention. Chan turns down the music and suggests, "Let's do a little dance circle. Minjun can start!"

What followed was Minjun at the center, trying his best to keep up, his movements more enthusiastic than rhythmic. Each member joined in, adding their own moves, making it a fun, chaotic dance party that had Minjun laughing uncontrollably. You laugh watching them, seeing how much fun they have with the little boy.

After the dance circle wound down, Minho takes Minjun back to his corner, both panting slightly from the exertion. "You're amazing," Minho praises him softly.

“Takes after his Daddy as it seems,” you chuckle, and Minho smirks.

“My little dancer,” he smiles fondly, poking his son's cheek. Minjun's proud little smile is worth more than any applause Minho had ever received on stage.

You hand him the juice box Minho packed for him and help him with the straw. “Drink something,” you tell him gently, and Minjun does eagerly. You bite back a laugh at him, kicking his feet happily.

As the practice resumes, Minjun's energy eventually fades. He plays with you quietly with his toys, occasionally glancing up to watch his dad. The day passes in a blur of music, laughter, and dance. By the time practice wrapped up, Minjun was dozing off in his little corner, exhausted by the day's adventures. His head resting on your leg, breathing peacefully amidst the chaos. Minho carefully picks him up, his heart full as he feels Minjun's steady breath against his neck. “Thank you,” he smiles at you as you pack up everything for him and hand him the backpack.

“Of course,” you mirror his smile. “Tomorrow, we'll meet at the studio.”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “When was it again?”

“At ten,” you tell him. “Do you need me to keep an eye on Minjun?”

“That would be great,” he nods gently.

“Okay, I'll be there,” you assure him, grabbing your jacket.

“Thank you,” he nods quickly.

“Mr. Lee - Minho,” you quickly correct yourself, sometimes still falling back into old habits. “You don't have to thank me all the time. It's fine.”

“Still,” Minho shakes his head. “It's a lot easier thanks to you…Do you need a ride home?”

“I'll be fine, thank you,” you assure him kindly. “You should get the little superstar to bed,” you say fondly, making Minho chuckle. You exchange your goodbyes before you both leave.

"Did you have fun today?" Minho whispers as he carries Minjun to the car.

"Mhm... best day," Minjun mumbles sleepily, his words slurring together.

Minho smiles, his eyes soft as he settles Minjun into the car seat. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

-

Minho's day starts early again, but this time there's a tangible buzz of excitement that courses through him. Today isn't just about dance practice; he's scheduled to record a new track with Chan, and he's bringing Minjun along to the studio once more. As they prepare to leave, Minho checks that he has everything Minjun might need—snacks, toys, and a little book of stories, just in case the session stretches longer than expected.

Minjun, now familiar with their routine, waddles around excitedly, chattering about seeing “uncle Channie” and the "music room."

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's usual observations, his voice a constant, cheerful hum in the background. Minho answers each question with patience, his mind simultaneously running through the lyrics and melodies he'll soon be recording.

Upon arrival, the studio feels like a second home. The familiar faces of the staff greet them warmly, and the scent of coffee mingles with the underlying electrical buzz of equipment. Chan is already there, headphones on, nodding along to some beat only he can hear. He lifts his head as Minho and Minjun enter, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Look who's here! Hey, Minjun, high five!" Chan calls out, and Minjun rushes over, slapping his palm against Chan's outstretched hand. “How's my little Jiho?” he asks fondly and Minho smiles at the nickname Hyunjin had come up with, which stuck.

“Good,” the little boy nods happily.

Minho sets up Minjun's little corner, not far from the recording booth, where you're already waiting, having arrived a few minutes earlier. You have brought a new set of coloring pencils for Minjun, and he dives right into them with delight.

"Ready for a big day, Minjun?" you ask, helping him spread out his coloring sheets.

"Yes! Daddy sings, I draw!" Minjun declares, his focus intense as he selects a green pencil and starts scribbling. You chuckle softly, busying yourself as well by planning Minho's upcoming week.

Minho and Chan discuss the session with the producer, going over the song's structure and the tone they aim to capture.

As they start recording, Minho slips into the booth, the microphone in front of him a familiar friend. Outside the booth, you keep Minjun engaged, but his eyes often drift to his father, watching through the glass as Minho sings.

During playback, Minho steps out to listen, standing beside you and Minjun. He watches for Minjun's reaction, hoping to see a sign of approval. Minjun looks up, his eyes wide, and claps his small hands together.

"Daddy's song!" he exclaims, and Minho laughs, bending down to ruffle his hair.

"That's right, dumpling. Did you like it?" Minho asks.

"Love it, Daddy! You and uncle Channie sing nice!" Minjun responds, and Chan, overhearing, chuckles, giving Minho a pat on the back.

"It's a hit then, we have our toughest critic's approval," Chan jokes, making you all giggle.

The session continues, with Minho going back into the booth several times to refine his parts. Between takes, he checks on Minjun, always making sure he's happy and occupied. You seamlessly take care of Minjun, ensuring he's entertained but also quiet whenever the recording light is on.

As the afternoon goes on, the final parts of the track are recorded. With the professional part of his day winding down, Minho's attention fully returns to Minjun, who by now has created an impressive array of colorful drawings. "What do you say we show these to uncle Channie, huh?" Minho suggests, and Minjun nods enthusiastically, gathering his artwork.

Chan admires each drawing, making a big deal out of Minjun's artistic skills, which makes Minjun beam with pride. "We've got a future artist on our hands, Minho," Chan says, ruffling Minjun's hair.

"Maybe, but no matter what, I just want him to be happy," Minho replies, his voice soft, filled with love.

As the day comes to an end, you help pack up Minjun's things while Minho prepares to leave. He thanks you again, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Really, Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without your help," he admits.

"It's always a pleasure, Minho. Plus, I get to spend the day with this little guy," you say, tickling Minjun gently, pulling a giggle from him.

"Did you have fun today, Minjun?" he asks his son fondly.

"Yes, Daddy! Sing with uncle Channie again?" Minjun asks, his voice sleepy but happy.

"Absolutely, buddy. We'll come back soon," Minho promises, a smile crossing his face as he focuses back on the road.

One month later

Minho sits on the edge of the sofa, his tour outfit half-on, the rest laid out meticulously across the sofa. Minjun, sitting cross-legged with his blanket clutched tightly to his chest, watches his father with large, worried eyes. The tension between wanting to be there for his fans and needing to comfort his son gnaws at Minho, creating a knot of anxiety that settles heavily in his stomach.

“Buddy, you know Daddy has to go sing for all the people who came to see us tonight, right?” Minho’s voice is soft but carries an underlying note of apology. The stage was calling him, but his heart was anchored right there.

Minjun’s lips quiver as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Daddy! Stay, please. Don’t go!” His voice breaks as he begins to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight tears through Minho’s heart like a dagger.

Kneeling in front of his son, Minho wipes away the tears with a gentle thumb, his own eyes misting over. “Oh, my little boy, I wish I could stay... But remember how we talked about Daddy’s job? How there are so many people waiting to hear our songs?” He tries to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, hoping to sway his son’s mood.

But Minjun was unyielding. His small body trembles with sobs, each cry slicing through Minho’s resolve. “I want Daddy... no songs... stay... please…” His words are punctuated by hiccupping sobs, each plea making Minho’s heart sink more firmly to the ground.

“Minjun, I need you to be strong for Daddy now, yeah?” he asks, but his son shakes his head with a weak sound. Minho quickly finishes dressing, he could hear the distant echo of the others warming up. The show was imminent, his cue to leave fast approaching. He merely has an hour left.

“You'll join us for a last talk?” Jeongin asks, and Minho nods, scooping Minjun up and following him outside.

Chan talks them through the process once more, glancing at Minho, who's rocking his crying son in his arms. He can tell Minho is starting to get worried and stressed out by his son's discomfort. Which is bad because they need him tonight. It's the final concert of their tour, and this is important.

Minjun wails pathetically in his arms, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat for a moment, shaking his head. “Sorry, you guys keep talking,” he says, quickly leaving the room, not wanting to disturb them any longer.

Jisung watches them worriedly and glances at Chan. “You think Jiho will be okay before we start?” he asks.

“I doubt it. Min said he's having a rough day,” he shakes his head.

“Shit,” Seungmin breathes out. “We need him tonight, Channie hyung.”

“I know,” Chan nods. “We can't help much, we know how needy his baby boy gets sometimes. We can only make sure we're all ready.”

-

Minho paces through the room, gently rocking his little boy in his arms as he talks soothingly to him. His son seemed to have realized he wouldn't see him for the next two hours, which must've caused the sudden mood swings. Minho is starting to feel stressed, glancing at the clock up at the wall and realizing he'd have to be on stage in ten minutes. He should be preparing himself mentally right now, getting a moment of peace before their intense evening. But he isn't relaxed or calm at all. The sound of his son wailing in his arms is cutting through him like knives, knowing he'd have to leave him here in a bit. He knows his friends loved their little boy, but not when he was fussing around before a show, which is why he left their room a while ago. “Shh, dumpling, please,” he tries, soothingly rubbing his back. “It's okay, yeah?”

Minjun responds with another sob, his little hand clinging to his shirt. Minho's sure his stage outfit will be stained with drool and tears later, and he feels his throat tighten as his exhaustion and frustration take over for a moment. His body will be exhausted before performing after pacing for almost an hour, carrying his son, who's only growing heavier. “Please,” he whines, knowing his own distress isn't exactly calming his baby boy.

The door opens, and Changbin shoots him an apologizing look. “Min, we should leave.”

“I know, I'll be right there,” he tells him, flashing him a stressed, weak smile.

“Two minutes,” he reminds him and leaves again.

“Please stop crying, Minjun, please,” he begs, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

The two minutes are over way too soon, and Chan opens the door this time. “Min, I'm sorry. We should go,” he tells him.

“I know, okay?!” he snaps at him, his emotions getting the better of him. “I didn't choose this, Chan, but I can't just leave him here either! I can't leave him at the hotel for that long, he's too young!”

Chan lifts his hands in an attempt to show him he's not here to pick a fight. “Min, I know, I know it's shit,” he tells him soothingly. “We can start five minutes later, but you need to get ready,” he says gently, stepping closer. “Let me take him for a moment, yeah? You should change your shirt and let someone fix your hair real quick. Come here, Jiho, hm?” Minho reluctantly lets go of him and flinches heavily as the cries of his son grow louder. He looks at Chan with tears in his eyes, who gently rocks the little one in his arms. “It's okay, Minnie, go on,” he tells him kindly. “He'll be okay.”

Minho fights with himself for a moment before leaving the room. His friends look at him compassionately as he passes them, and Felix follows him into their dressing room. He takes over for their stylist, helping Minho change his shirt and gently smoothing out his hair. “Take a deep breath, yeah?” he says gently, and Minho nods, doing as he's told. “Y/n will be here in a few minutes.”

Minho frowns at him. “No, Yongbokie, it's his day off,” he shakes his head.

“He's the only one your son accepts besides you. Chan called him a bit ago,” Felix tells him and soothingly rubs his shoulders.

Chan joins them with an apologizing look and a screaming Minjun. “He started kicking,” he tells him, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat, taking him again.

“I'm sorry,” Minho says, voice quivering as it all gets a little too much to handle. “I'm so sorry. I didn't want this, not like that.”

“We know,” Chan assures him kindly. “But we also know why you decided to pull through with this.”

Minho fights back tears, shakily rubbing his temple with one hand. He's starting to get a headache, and honestly, he just wants to go back home. “But-I know it's all getting too much,” he says shakily. “He's so clingy I can't go anywhere, and he's crying as soon as I'm gone. I know how annoying it is for you all, even if you try to hide it,” he says.

“That's your own worries speaking, hyung,” Felix assures him. “We love him, and yes, days like today are rough, but we know why you do it, and we promised to support you with it.”

“It's okay, I promise,” Chan adds gently.

You rip the door open, a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs. “I'm here, sorry, there was so much traffic!” you apologize and quickly make your way over. “You guys should go,” you urge them and gently ease Minjun out of Minho's arms. “Hiii, baby,” you say softly, smiling as the little one tiredly buries his face in your neck, hiccuping your name between broken little cries. You soothingly sway from side to side, rubbing his back and talking to him calmly. Your own calm demeanor does wonders for the little boy who grows still in your arms, little hand gripping your sweater as his body's shaking. You look up and notice Chan and Felix have left, but Minho's still here, staring at the two of you in wonder. You can spot the tears in his eyes and flash him an encouraging smile. “Go on, I got him.”

“Are you sure?” he asks nervously. “I know it's your day off.”

“I like taking care of him, it doesn't feel like work,” you assure him before glancing down at the sniffling boy in your arms. “We'll have so much fun, yeah? Your daddy has to work now, but I'm here,” you tell him and gently pat his back. “You want your plushie?” you ask and earn a weak little nod. “Go,” you whisper toward Minho, who gives himself a push. “Oh, look, here it is,” you say, handing Minjun his favorite plushie.

The boy pulls the fluffy bunny to his chest and cuddles into you. As the stage door clicks shut behind Minho, leaving the bustling sounds of the backstage crew prepping for the night's performance, the room he exits from fades to a quieter atmosphere.

The walk to the stage is the longest walk of his life. Each step echoes with Minjun’s sobs, and each beat of his heart synchronizes with the distant thumps of the bass drum from the stage. Behind the curtains, the crowd's roar is deafening, a stark contrast to the quiet, tearful goodbye he had just endured. Minho takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts. Jisung gently takes his hand, Chan squeezes his shoulder, and Felix straightens his jacket. Minho's eyes flutter back open as the music starts, and he tries to push everything else away. He needs to focus.

You hold Minjun closer, feeling his little heart beating against your own. His sobs begin to subside, his breath evening out as he clutches his bunny tightly. The stuffed toy seems to offer him the comfort he seeks, his tiny fingers threading through its soft fur.

You rock gently, humming a tune that you've noticed often calms him down. The melody is simple yet soothing, and as you continue, Minjun's grip relaxes. His eyes, puffy and red from crying, start to close. It’s moments like these, where the world slows down, that remind you why you cherish your role so much—not just as a caregiver but as a steady presence in this little one's life. You would've never thought you'd enjoy looking after a kid this much.

Around you, the room is scattered with signs of Minho and his friends' hurried exit. Costumes hang on racks, makeup kits are left open, and a few sheets of music flutter slightly from a nearby air vent. It's a world of glamour and chaos mixed with those quiet moments you share with Minjun.

Minho’s life, a blend of public performances and private moments like these, paints a vivid picture of the sacrifices and joys of his career. As you adjust Minjun in your arms, preparing to sit down with him until he falls asleep, you think about the pressure Minho faces. It's not just about being a performer but also being a father and a friend—balancing each role under the watchful eyes of the public and his friends.

Outside, you hear the faint sound of the crowd, a rumbling wave of excitement for the show about to start. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, down to the lights, music, and energy that Minho will soon be enveloped in. Yet here, in the quiet room with Minjun finally drifting to sleep, the noise seems worlds away.

Your thoughts drift to Minho and the stress practically dripping off his body. You understand his dilemma. Being a parent is challenging enough without the added pressures of a demanding career. Minho's struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Minjun while meeting the expectations of his career is a tightrope walk that few can comprehend fully.

As Minjun's breaths deepen, indicating he's fallen asleep, you carefully adjust him on your chest. You ensure his favorite bunny is tucked beside him and gently pull a small blanket over his little body to keep him warm.

This tranquility is what you hope to provide for Minho as well—a sense of peace amidst the storm of his responsibilities. As the caregiver, your role extends beyond just watching over Minjun. It's about offering both father and son the assurance that they are not alone in this journey, and you can tell Minho needs it more with every passing day.

With Minjun settled, you step out of the room to catch a glimpse of the show on a monitor in the hallway. Minho is on stage now, his presence magnetic, pulling the audience into his performance. The contrast between the father you saw earlier and the performer now captivating the crowd is stark. Yet, it's this duality that defines him.

As you watch, you feel a sense of pride in Minho’s resilience and determination. It reinforces your commitment to support him in any way you can. When the show ends, you know he'll return, exhausted but fulfilled, eager to hear that Minjun was fine, that in his absence, everything was okay.

This is your world as much as it is theirs—a world of late nights and lullabies, of cheers and tears. It's a delicate balance. As the crowd’s applause echoes down the hallway, blending with the soft sounds of Minjun's peaceful sleep, you smile to yourself, ready for when Minho returns, ready to reassure him that everything is indeed fine.

Minho is the first one to return, a relieved smile covering his lips as he sees his son peacefully asleep on your chest. “You're an angel,” he breathes out, collapsing on the sofa next to you and gently fondling his son’s hair. “He didn't stop crying for an hour, I was about not to perform tonight.”

“All he needed was some peace and his favorite plushie,” you chuckle softly. “Also, he was very tired from all the crying, so that probably did the trick.”

Minho laughs weakly and shakes his head. “You handle him so much better than I do.”

“It's basically my job now,” you tell him. “Also, you were stressed and freaking out. He can sense that and it probably didn't help him calm down,” you say softly. “Not that it's your fault, everyone would have been.”

Minho hums gently and studies your face for a moment. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to express how much it means to him to be able to trust someone with his little boy. “You know what he calls his favorite plushie?”

“He didn't tell me yet,” you shake your head, frowning at him curiously.

“He calls him Y/nnie,” he says with a tired smile, watching your expression change to one of surprise and joy. “You mean a lot to him, so I'm glad you don't mind taking care of him.”

“Oh,” you nod in surprise. “That's sweet.”

“I thought you'd like to know that,” Minho hums before pushing himself up. “I should go and take a shower. I'll come get him after.”

“No rush,” you assure him kindly.

The others are quiet whenever they have to get something in the room and leave quickly. Chan quietly thanks you for getting here on such short notice and saving the day, which you wave off with a gentle smile.

Minho shuffles back inside a little later, wearing a comfy sweater and matching sweatpants. His fluffy hair falls freely around his face. He grabs his bag from a chair and fumbles for his phone to call one of their drivers.

“I can take you back, I'm driving there anyway,” you tell him, and he drops his phone back into the bag with a thankful smile. “You got everything?” you ask, and Minho nods, grabbing his glasses from the table. He puts them on, running his hand through his hair tiredly, and makes his way back over to you.

Minho reaches for Minjun, craving to hold his little boy again, and gently lifts him up. Minjun stirs in his sleep, and Minho quickly nestles him against his chest, soothingly fondling his hair.

“Daddy,” he mumbles drowsily, little hand curling up against his neck.

“I'm here, baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. “Go back to sleep.”

The sight of Minho like this, looking so soft and vulnerable with his sweet boy resting against his chest stirs something in you you can't really explain. A sudden urge to take care of both of them overwhelms you, and your eyes trace Minho's features. You know he's pretty, he's a visual for a reason and still, you're stunned by how beautiful he gets in moments like these.

The door opens, and Minho turns a little, meeting Chan's caring expression with a tired smile. “Everything alright?” he checks in, making sure Minho is okay after this rough night.

“Yeah,” Minho assures him gently. “We're okay.”

“You did well today, Min,” Chan tells him warmly and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Thanks, hyung,” he says genuinely.

“Thank you again, Y/n, I wouldn't have called if there had been another way,” Chan apologizes again.

“I know,” you assure him. “I didn't mind, if you need me, I'm here,” you tell them and get up.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a driver?” Chan asks, and Minho gently shakes his head.

“Y/nnie said he'd take us,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly.

“Alright then,” Chan nods before grabbing his own things and waving goodbye.

Minho exhales softly and shifts on his feet, feeling the intensity of the concert creeping up on him. His legs hurt, and his arms are tired, but he doesn't want to let go of him yet. If someone asked him to go to sleep right here he could without a second thought. He carefully tilts his head and his neck cracks at the movement. For a second, pain tints his features, and you frown at him.

“You're okay?” you ask gently, already grabbing your stuff and his bag.

“Mhm,” he hums, gently swaying from side to side to keep Minjun asleep. “Just exhausted…and everything hurts.”

“You definitely need some rest,” you respond gently, adjusting his bag on your shoulder. “Let’s get you both home.”

Minho nods gratefully, his gaze lingering on Minjun’s peaceful face as they follow you out of the room. The walk to the car is quiet, with only the occasional whisper of wind and the distant sound of the city at night. Once Minho settles Minjun into the car seat, he collapses into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief.

The drive is smooth and uneventful. You keep the radio off, allowing the silence to settle comfortably around you, broken only by Minjun's gentle breathing in the backseat. Minho’s head leans against the window, eyes closed, but you can tell he isn’t really asleep; he is just resting, processing the day.

“Y/nnie,” Minho finally speaks, his voice quiet in the dark car. “I really can’t thank you enough. Not just for tonight, but for everything. You’ve become… a lot more than just an assistant to us.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “I’m glad to be here, Minho. You and Minjun mean a lot to me, too.”

A small smile tugs at Minho’s lips. “I'm lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fatigue. You can't help the warmth spreading through you at his words. If there's one thing you've learned in the years of working for him, then it's that he’s completely honest when he's tired.

As you reach the hotel, you help him gather everything and support him as he carefully lifts Minjun, who mumbles sleepily but doesn’t wake. Minho leans against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as he fights falling asleep on the spot. He readjusts his grip around Minjun, burying his nose in his hair, and breathes calmly.

You search for Minho's keycard for the room and gently guide him down the hallway, opening the door for him. You stop there, and Minho turns around inside, flashing you a tired smile. “Come in for a moment?” he asks gently.

“It's fine, really,” you assure him.

“Let me at least make you some tea, please?” he asks, and you can tell he's trying to give you something back for today. You can't deny him that.

“Okay,” you nod and step inside, pulling the door closed. You follow Minho inside, and he tells you to drop his bag somewhere next to the bed.

Minho carefully puts Minjun down, tucking him in. He smooths his hair back and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispers.

Minho quickly makes you both some tea and hands you a cup. “You should get some sleep too,” you suggest as you walk towards the small living room area, where Minho has slumped onto the couch.

“Just a few minutes,” Minho says, his eyes already closing. “I’m too tired to move.”

You sit down next to him and gently ease the cup from his hands, not wanting him to burn himself by accident. “Min,” you say gently as he tilts to the side, body growing heavy against you. “You should really get some sleep.”

“Thanks for tonight, Y/nnie,” Minho whispers as you give up the fight and let him rest his head on your shoulder.

“It’s no problem, really,” you reassure him. You pause, considering your next words. “Minho, you’re doing an amazing job with him. I hope you know that.”

Minho smiles weakly. “I’m trying. It’s hard to know if I’m doing enough, you know?”

“You are. More than enough,” you tell him kindly.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation... or maybe it’s more of an apology for tonight,” Minho mumbles sleepily.

“There's no need, I promise,” you tell him, but Minho shakes his head.

“I hate that my work pulls me away from Minjun,” he starts, his voice tinged with frustration. “And nights like tonight make it all feel ten times heavier. I worry about the effect it’s having on him.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” you reassure him. “And it’s clear to everyone, especially Minjun, how much you love him. He knows, Minho, how much you care.”

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Y/nnie. I... sometimes I just need to hear that. It gets a bit overwhelming trying to balance everything. And tonight, seeing him so upset, I felt like I was failing him.”

“You’re not failing him,” you say firmly. “Every single time he looks at you, he does so with so much love. That’s not failure.”

Minho pulls back his head and looks at you drowsily, a sincere smile breaking through his exhaustion. “I’m really glad you’re here. Not just for Minjun, but for me too.”

“I told you the first day we met I'm here to make your life easier,” you tell him gently. “It doesn't matter if that's by planning your week or taking care of the little one.”

“He really loves you, I hope you know that,” he tells you and swallows at the joy in your eyes. “I… never mind,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly, taking off his glasses. “I should get some sleep before I keep on rambling and keep you up.”

“You should,” you giggle. “I'll let myself out.”

“Goodnight, Y/nnie,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Minho,” you say and decide it's your time to leave.

Minho drags himself to bed, crawling under the covers and joining his baby. He smiles as Minjun wakes up and crawls on his chest, getting comfortable there.

“Missed you, daddy,” he says softly.

“Missed you too, dumpling,” he says fondly and kisses his head. “Let's sleep now, yeah?” he asks, already drifting off to sleep.

“Y/nnie?” he asks.

“Y/nnie's in his room,” Minho answers and squints at him as his son shuffles off him and searches the bed. “Minjunnie,” he groans softly and turns onto his side.

His son makes a succeeding noise and shoves his little bunny into Minho's face. “Y/nnie!”

“Oh, I should've known that,” he laughs at himself before pulling him into a hug. “Come here now, yeah? Daddy's tired, baby.”

“Story?” he asks and Minho closes his eyes in defeat at the soft, tiny voice of his son.

“There once was a little boy. He was really tired, and his daddy was also very tired. They went to bed. The little boy fell asleep. The end,” he says and Minjun makes a protesting little noise.

“Stupid, daddy,” he laughs.

“Yeah, stupid,” he giggles and plants a few kisses all over his son's adorable little face.

“Story, please?” he giggles, scrunching his little nose at his father's sudden love attack.

Minho smiles, his exhaustion seeping away slightly in the joy of the moment. "Alright, my love, one story, but then it's really time to sleep," he says, adjusting himself so Minjun is comfortably nestled against his side, their heads sharing a pillow.

"Okay, daddy," Minjun agrees eagerly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time," Minho begins, his voice soft and melodious, perfect for a bedtime tale, "in a faraway land, there was a brave little knight named Minjun."

"Like me!" Minjun interrupts with a giggle, his small fingers playing with Minho's hand.

"Yes, just like you," Minho confirms with a grin. "Minjun was the bravest knight in all the lands, and he had a magical friend, a dragon named Sparky."

"Dragon!" Minjun exclaims, delighted. "Does he breathe fire?"

"He does," Minho nods, "but Sparky only breathes fire when he needs to protect the kingdom. Most of the time, he's very gentle and loves to play."

Minjun listens intently, his imagination painting the scenes as his father describes them. "One day," Minho continues, "the kingdom faced great danger. A mysterious fog covered the land, making everyone feel very sleepy and lazy."

“What's fog, daddy?” he asks, his voice sounding a little sleepy by now.

“You know when it's cold, or it rains, and the air is all gray and heavy?” he asks, and Minjun nods.

“Fog is stupid,” he declares, making Minho bite back a laugh.

"So no one wanted to play or work," Minho adds, noticing Minjun's concerned frown. "Minjun and Sparky had to find the cause of the fog and save the kingdom."

"How did they do it?" Minjun asks, his voice filled with worry for the characters.

"Well," Minho says, drawing out the suspense, "they went on a grand adventure. They traveled through the Enchanted Forest, across the Silver Mountains, and finally to Crystal Lake, where the fog was thickest. They found out that the fog came from a sleeping spell by a lonely wizard who just wanted some friends," Minho explains. "Minjun offered to be the wizard's friend if he would lift the spell."

"Did he do it?" Minjun's eyes are hopeful, his small body tense with excitement.

"Yes, he did," Minho smiles. "The wizard was so happy to have a friend that he not only lifted the spell but also promised to use his magic for good. Together, they returned to the kingdom, heroes who had saved the day."

Minjun yawns, snuggling closer to his father, his eyelids heavy. "I like Minjun. He's nice," he mumbles sleepily.

"He is," Minho agrees, his voice a whisper now. "Just like you, my brave little boy."

As Minjun's breaths even out into the steady rhythm of sleep, Minho continues to hold him close. The story's end morphs into a quiet night. He lies there in the darkness, feeling the weight of his son's trust and love, anchoring him more firmly than anything else could.

In the silence of the room, with Minjun's soft snores as the only sound, Minho reflects on the day. The responsibilities of his career, the bright lights of the stage, and the cheers of the crowd—all of it fades into the background when contrasted with the peaceful, sleeping form of his son. Here, in the dim glow of the nightlight, Minho finds his truest joy.

He whispers a promise into the darkness, a vow to always return to this, to Minjun, no matter where his life takes him. "Always back to you," he murmurs, gently kissing Minjun's forehead. With that promise cradling his heart, Minho allows himself to drift off to sleep.

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @kevcanwait @queer-possum

[cry4tzu]

Can you be my distraction?

Mina x female reader

Synopsis-let me forget him by you becoming my distraction

Warning-smut,mentioned of a man(smh)

A/n-i need more ideas

“ she can’t just cry in her room and hide forever”dahyun said looking towards the hallway, where Mina room is at. “if I see that idiotic ugly rat of a man again I will kill him”

“ I know that we all hate that man but killing him isn’t the option. We can only try to help Mina move on from him.” Jihyo said looking at every one of her members.

“But how would we do it if she clearly doesn’t even want to leave her room , let alone eat.” Sana said.

As they huddled together, debating their options, a thought struck Jeongyeon. She glanced at Mina room , her eyes sparkling with determination. "I know just what to do," a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "We'll take her out tonight. We'll show her that there are plenty of other people out there who would die for a chance with her." The others exchanged skeptical looks, but eventually nodded in agreement. They would give it a try.

As they approached Mina room ,and slightly went in. "Hey, Mina, we thought you could use some fresh air. So we were wondering if you would like to go out for the night. It would get your mind off of jakson." Mina looked up, her eyes red and puffy, but she didn't protest. She allowed them to get her ready and lead her to the club.

-

As they led Mina through the bustling streets, weaving their way past crowds of people, their laughter filling the air. The sound of it seemed to reach Mina's ears as if its from a great distance, and yet she couldn't help but smile in spite of herself. Something about the sound of her friends' laughter was infectious, and before long, a tiny spark of joy began to flicker within her chest.

As they arrived at the club, the members ushered Mina inside, where the music was loud and the lights were bright. Drinks were already waiting for them at their table, and as they sat down, Jeongyeon leaned in close to Mina, her lips brushing against her ear. "Just try to have a good time tonight," her breath warm against Mina's skin. "You deserve it."

Mina nodded, feeling a little more hopeful as she took a sip of her drink. As she sat there, trying to forget about Jakson and enjoy herself, she couldn't help but glance around the club, taking in the sights and sounds. she noticed a group of women sitting at a nearby table, all laughing together. Something about the way they were laughing, so freely and without any restraint, caught Mina's attention. She found herself staring at them, wishing she could feel that way again.

As she watched, one of the woman in particular seemed to catch her eye. Mina couldn't help but feel a spark of interest when their gazes met across the crowded room. She smiled shyly, feeling a flutter in her chest.

"Who's that girl over there who's got Mina all distracted?" Nayeon asked, giggling. "Maybe she should be over there with them instead of moping over that Bigfoot of a man .”dahyun reply going along with the teasing.

Mina blushed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity. “ oh come on guys, it’s not like that…” she was going to finish her sentence but a little tap on her shoulder, made her turn around and look at that person.

"Hi, I'm y/n," she said, extending her hand to Mina. "I couldn't help but notice you've been staring. So I thought to come over and say hi." Mina felt a spark of electricity course through her as their hands touched.

"I'm Mina." She managed to get out, her voice sounding a little shaky even to her ears. Jeongyeon and jihyo exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the unfolding scene. Y/N smiled reassuringly, their hand still resting on Mina's shoulder.

“ well, nice to meet you Mina”y/n responded with a heartwarming smile.

There was something about the way Y/N said her name that sent a shiver down Mina's spine. They were so confident, so sure of themselves. It was intoxicating. Mina found herself wanting to spend more time with her , to get to know her better.

As they continued to talk, the rest of the club faded away, becoming nothing more than a blur of colors and sounds in the background. The more Mina listened to Y/N, the more she realized how much she had in common with this stranger. They laughed at the same jokes, shared stories about their friends, and even had a few embarrassing moments they could bond over.

“ so you saying, that the reason why you are here is because of your ex boyfriend jakson cheated on you” Y/N said, her voice soft but firm. Mina nodded, feeling a lump forming in her throat. She couldn't believe how much she was opening up to this stranger, but there was something about Y/N that made her feel safe, like she could trust them with anything.

“Well then,he's an idiot," y/n said, her voice laced with sincerity, "to let someone like you slip through his fingers." Mina looked up at Y/N, surprise evident on her face. "I mean, you're beautiful, funny, and smart...why would he even cheat on you in the first place?" She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink.

“ if I was to ever dated you I would never let a beautiful woman like you go.” her cheeks flushing slightly. Mina felt her heart skip a beat. This was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her.

Before she could even respond,the music change . One of the girls started to play in the background. This is mina song. She couldn’t help but pull y/n to the dance floor before the girl even process what is happening. Y/n placed her hands on mina's hips and started to move her body with mina's. They danced together perfectly in sync.

The rest of the club seemed to fade away as Mina lost herself in the music and the feeling of Y/N's body against hers. Every touch sent a shiver down her spine, every movement seemed to be choreographed just for the two of them. She couldn’t help but feel so hot and bother by the way y/n touch her . Her touch felt so firm but gentle at the same time. The way her hands touches her body. She couldn’t take it.

She leaned in closer, their bodies flush against each other as their lips met in a passionate kiss. The kiss went from passionate to hunger in a few seconds. To the point Mina wanted more. No, she needed more.

Mina grab y/n hand. Basically dragging her out of the club. And into the taxi that was nearby . She told the taxi driver her house location. They didn't even bother to talk as they made out the whole way there. Once they finally arrived at her house. She lead Y/N to her room and slammed the door shut behind them. Where she slammed their lips together

"Mina..." Y/N panted, her breath coming in short gasps as she broke the kiss.

Mina let out a moan, her hands running through Y/N's hair, tangling in the soft strands. "I need you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice husky. "I need you so bad."

Without another word, she pushed Y/N onto the bed, their bodies tangled together. She felt Y/N's hands fumbling with her shirt, and then with her bra, finally freeing her breasts from their confinement. Mina arched her back, letting out a gasp as Y/N's warm mouth closed around her nipple. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the need growing stronger with each passing second.

Y/N moaned, her tongue dancing against Mina's sensitive skin, and then she sat up, pushing Mina's shirt off her shoulders. She tossed it aside and leaned down again, kissing Mina's neck, sucking gently before moving further down. Mina let out a low growl, her hips bucking off the bed.

As Y/N continued to kiss and nibble her way down Mina's body, she reached out to touch the other girl, tracing her fingers along the soft, smooth skin of her inner thigh. "Please, Y/N," she begged, her voice shaky. "I need you inside me."

Y/N smiled against Mina's thigh, her breath hot against her skin. She reached down, pushing Mina's dress and panties to the side, revealing her wetness. With a swift movement, she guided her fingers inside, feeling the tightness that surrounded her. Mina arched her back, her nails digging into Y/N's shoulders as she was consumed by the sensation.

"Fuck, Mina," Y/N breathed, her voice hoarse. "You're so hot and wet." thrusting her fingers deeper, feeling the heat of Mina's body against her hand. She could feel the muscles in Mina's thighs clench around her fingers, and it only made her want more. She leaned in, taking one of Mina's nipples into her mouth, sucking roughly as she continued to stroke her.

Mina cried out, arching her back off the bed. "Fuck , yes," she moaned. Her hips bucked upward, meeting Y/N's thrusts, desperate for more contact. "I need you to fuck me harder " she whispered, her voice shaking. The feeling of Y/N's fingers inside her, combined with the wet heat of her mouth on her breast, was driving her crazy. She could feel the familiar tightening in her stomach, the building pressure that told her she was close.

"you're so beautiful," Y/N breathed, gazing down at Mina's exposed body. She continued to thrust her fingers in and out of Mina's slick folds, feeling the smooth muscles grip around her. “My beautiful girl” She leaned in, kissing Mina's neck, sucking gently before moving lower to take a nipple into her mouth. She rolled the hard peak between her lips, teasing it with her tongue as she continued to stroke her.

Mina cried out, arching her back off the bed. "Yes, yes, that's it," moaning as her hips bucked upward, meeting Y/N's thrusts, desperate for more contact. She felt herself growing closer, the pressure building inside her.

Y/N looked up at Mina, their eyes meeting, and saw the desire and need in her gaze. She could feel Mina's muscles tensing around her fingers, and she knew she was close too. “Cum for me princess .” With one final thrust, she pushed her fingers deep inside, feeling the tight heat of Mina's body grip her as she came.

Mina cried out, her body shuddering as her own orgasm took hold. Her hips bucked upward, meeting the rhythm of Y/N's thrusts, and she arched her back off the bed, her nails digging into the sheets. As the sensation washed over her, she felt a deep, satisfying release that left her breathless and completely spent.

Y/N watched Mina's face contort in pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted in a silent scream. She could feel Mina's inner muscles clenching and releasing around her fingers, milking her climax. She slowed her movements, pulling her fingers out of Mina's body and kissing her softly.

Mina's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to catch her bearings. Her body felt like it was still humming from the intensity of the orgasm, and she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and closeness to Y/N. She reached up, running her fingers through Y/N's hair, feeling the soft strands against her skin.

Y/N smiled down at Mina, her eyes filled with love and desire. "Are you okay?" she whispered, tracing a finger along Mina's jawline. "Did I go too fast?"

Mina shook her head, her eyes still closed. "No, no, that was perfect," she gasped, her breath coming back to her in ragged gasps. "It was... more than I could have imagined." She opened her eyes, meeting Y/N's gaze once more. There was such tenderness in those eyes, such love and understanding. It made her heart swell.

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at Mina's words. She leaned down, kissing Mina's forehead, her cheek, her lips.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "I've never felt this close to someone before." She rolled onto her side, facing Mina, and wrapped her arm around her waist, pulling her close. " even though we met a few hours ago. I want to be with you, Mina. I want us to be together."

Mina nestled into the crook of Y/N's arm, feeling the warmth of her body against hers. She sighed contentedly, her cheek resting on Y/N's shoulder. "I want that too," she said softly. "I want to be with you, Y/N."

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Then it's settled," she murmured, kissing the top of Mina's head. "We'll figure everything out together. We'll make it work, no matter what."

They lay there in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. It felt so right to be here with Mina like this, their bodies entwined, their hearts connected. The air in the room seemed to hum with an electric energy that only they could feel.

Y/N traced gentle circles on Mina's back with her fingertips, feeling the softness of her skin beneath her touch. She wondered what the future might hold for them. They'd have to face some challenges, no doubt about that. But she had a feeling that as long as they were together, they could overcome anything.

She begins to feel her eyes getting heavier. The warmth of Mina's body and the rhythm of her breath lull her into a state of relaxation. As she drifts off to sleep, she was aware of Mina's hand moving up and down her back, soothing and comforting her. It's a gentle, almost hypnotic motion that sends a wave of contentment through her.

-

The sun is beginning to peek through the curtains. The sounds of clicking noises ( from taking pictures) can be heard from the room.

“Look how cute they are” chaeyoung said while showing the others the picture she just took of the new couple.

“Wait I can see Mina left boo..what the fuck Tzuyu why did you do that.” She said while rubbing her head that Tzuyu just hit.

“Stop being so inappropriate you snake”rolling her eyes as she walks away from sana. Smiling, sana follows Tzuyu “ oh come on you know you love me baby.” Which Tzuyu completely ignored her. Bitch this is not a satzu fic gtf

They all laughed at their friends antics before they decided to leave the room before the newly couple wakes up.

“They do know that their loud asses woke us up, right? We were having our moment here...” Mina groaned, burying her face into Y/N's neck as she mumbled her complaint. Y/N chuckled softly, kissing the top of Mina's head.

"It's fine, sweetheart. We've gotten enough rest. Let's go see what they're up to." She yawned, sitting up slowly and pulling the covers with her. Mina followed suit, stretching her arms above her head as she yawned as well.

As they emerged from the bedroom, they were greeted by the sight of their friends sitting in the living room, sipping coffee and chatting. The room was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, making Y/N's stomach rumble. "Hey, you guys," she said, yawning again. "Care if we join you?"

"Of course!" Chaeyoung answered with a grin. "We were just about to head out, actually. We were just waiting for you two." She gestured to a tray on the coffee table, which held a plate of croissants and coffee . "Breakfast?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," Y/N said, sitting down next to Mina on the couch. "We could really use some coffee." As she spoke, she reached for one of the warm mugs and poured herself a cup, inhaling the rich aroma deeply.

"You two look so cute together," Chaeyoung commented with a smile, nudging Y/N playfully. "I'm so happy for you, Mina." She glanced at Mina, who was currently playing with a loose string on the couch cushion, her cheeks slightly pink.

"Thanks, Chaeyoung," Mina replied, her voice soft and shy. “But if you hurt her I will kill you” momo spoke up making everyone laugh. "I'm just kidding, guys . You two are perfect for each other."

The room grew quiet as everyone took a sip of their coffee, lost in their own thoughts. Y/N glanced over at Mina, admiring the way the morning light made her hair look like liquid gold. She reached out and took Mina's hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. Mina looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N's, and the warmth that spread through her chest was indescribable.

"Well, we should get going," Sana finally said, breaking the silence. "We have a photoshoot today, remember?" The others nodded in agreement, finishing the last of their breakfast.

As their friends began to gather their things, Y/N and Mina exchanged a knowing glance. They knew that they would see each other later that day, but the thought of being apart for even a few hours made their hearts ache just a little bit.

" I'll see you tonight, okay?" Y/N said, giving Mina's hand a squeeze.

"Mmhmm," Mina hummed, already feeling a little bit down. "I can't wait to be with you again." Her voice was soft and longing, making Y/N's heart ache.

The goodbyes were exchanged, hugs and promises to text later were exchanged, and eventually, the apartment was empty once more. Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside her chest. She missed Mina already, but she knew that they'd see each other later. With a determined smile, she made her way into the bedroom, ready to start the day.

[pumpkinbxtch]

good morning, a request please apollo/lestrange x reader how percy and poseidon react, if apollo asks the reader to marry him (apollo found his definitive soulmate in the reader)

.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ “beach proposal”

— apollo/lester x fem!daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: Apollo don't needs any other proof to know that you are the definitive love of his life. Hard thing to say like a god. Now he will ask for your hand but not before announcing himself to your father and your brother, Percy Jackson.

warnings: none, i think. yep, still using swear words.

A/N: goood morning (it's late at night) first things first, thank you for share me your cute desires, second, yes i will and here you have. enjoy, please. forgive me if it's not worthy of you.

- From the other side of the milky way, María 🩵

His immortal heart was beating so fast that he thought he could die (reallu, he definitely already knew how it felt)

He kept his eyes fixed on the sun from Long Island Sound. The golden hour illuminated the water and the sweet aroma of strawberries invaded his lungs; the strawberries from camp half-blood. He had never felt this anxious and at peace at the same time.

He had been through so much, he had waited so much, he had wished for so much, but, above all, he loved you so much…

Now he could see everything even more clearly.

The breeze rustled his brown and golden hair.

He closed his eyes, said a blessing and gave thanks. He gave thanks for his journey as a mortal, he gave thanks because he did not allow himself to forget the beauty of being human and because love blessed him when he saw you.

That is, when he actually saw you.

Being a god, you can be everywhere at the same time, but you lose your sense of appreciation for everything that exists. When you're human, uhm no.

From that day on, life afterward was eleven times more colorful, beautiful and full of meaning because you also saw him. I mean, yes. Apollo is a god, who wouldn't see that? But at that moment it was Lester. If before he had no regrets, now even less.

“You'll end up forgetting her, she's just another mortal” They said. “Gods, now she's really in trouble,” the campers said the first few days.

“Another whim? Make sure she doesn't end up so bad this time,” Zeus, his father, reprimanded him.

The small waves broke gently on the shore, and he walked so close to it that his feet were slightly sunk in the wet sand.

—Hey, Apollo!

The named turned slowly, and his heartbeat accelerated even more.

Percy Jackson.

The young man stumbled forward in the sand. He took off his converse, threw them away with a curse, and ran towards him.

—Why did you call me to come here?

His legs began to shake.

— Percy, I…

— Wait — the black-haired raised his hand — And my sister?

He looked at Percy, his brow furrowed and sea-colored eyes examining him from head to toe as if he were searching for clues of some crime in his clothes. Apollo couldn't help but smile.

—In the camp, greeting everyone. She hasn't been here in a while.

The boy noded. The sand splattered from his ankles was washed away by a small wave.

—Neither do I, — said the son of Poseidon, with a certain nostalgia in his voice.

Poseidon…

—But, —Percy searched the god's eyes. Always insightful — We're all in New Rome now. Why bring her first and then call only me?

Apollo reached out and took Percy's hand. All in a slow and careful way. He thought that any rude move and Percy would have an outburst for how close he was treating him. But, to his surprise, it was not like that.

The green eyes admired him with slight confusion, and they walked together into the waters.

To Apollo, every step felt solemn and warm. His heart could feel a spark of joy, but his stomach was clenching with uncertainty.

When the water reached both of their thighs, cut the steps off. The god raised his hand without letting go of Percy, and he felt a kind of current run through his spine.

Percy had never been so quiet since… Well, ever. But apparently the discretion with which he was handling himself helped him keep the attention of the demigod.

Then, a whirlpool emerged from the waters, and Percy's eyes widened.

— Father?

The sea god stabbed his trident into the sand, reaffirming his position in the water. Apollo let go of the young man's hand and made a small bow, something that did not inspire good news in Poseidon.

He looked at his son and then at the sun god.

— Have you called me?

Percy pointed at Apollo.

— He called US.

Apollo's insides seemed to tangle with each other, almost making him vomit. Apollo gently pushed Percy so that he stood next to his father and looked at them nervously.

Poseidon pressed down on the trident and cleared his throat.

— my daughter, Apollo?

—She's in the camp! —Percy rushed to say, earning a silent scolding from his father.

Apollo bowed briefly in respect. Poseidon narrowed his eyes.

— That's true.

— and why isn't she here?

Percy looked at his father and imitated his action of searching Apollo carefully, again. as if he had committed something unforgivable.

The god paused and extended his hand towards both of them, a small golden light shining together at dusk. When the light died out, he revealed a small chest lying in his palm.

Percy looked at him in confusion, completely unnoticed, but Poseidon gritted his teeth.

— I have found in her, what I have longed for since my existence.

Percy gasped, and his mood made a small whirlwind rise around him.

— No! —he shouted.

Apollo calmed his breathing, trying to stay calm.

— I had never met someone like her.

— No! Lie! —Percy pointed at him with eyes full of anger, or that was fear?— It's one thing for you to be lovebirds, but—

—Son of mine…

— is MY sister!— Percy's chest expanded in such a way that Apollo feared for his ribs, he took a step and knelt, bowing his head.

Poseidon would have imagined that such a show of respect would be directed towards him, but no, it was towards Percy.

how could it not be? Apollo knew that the gods were ignoring their responsibilities as parents. He knew that the most important person for you was the one who had taken care of your back in all those adventures, just as you took care of his, it was him, was your brother.

—She was by my side in my time as a human. She has shown me what love is.— Apollo looked up pleadingly.

—And now you just want to take her away, why?

— I won't take her anywhere, I want to take her as my wife.

— TAKE HER-

— Percy — Poseidon's voice vibrated through the waters, Apollo, still kneeling, gave him a passive but firm look.

The sun god rose and stood in front of the two men.

— Poseidon, Percy…

The youngest clenched his fists and a few small tears appeared in his eyes.

—Actually, she has the last word. I just wanted you guys to be… present.

Both Percy, Poseidon and even Apollo knew that very well. Especially Apollo, what would he do if you said no? He'd probably cry for eons (literally) yet he couldn't stop craving the approval of your brother and your…father.

Then Percy's eyes traveled to his back and he opened his mouth slightly. He felt the greatest chills a god could feel, then he turned.

Your silhouette looming over the coast, bright and full of life. Your eyes lit up when you saw those three gathered together.

Before addressing you, Apollo gave them a look. The three approached the shore, they gave Apollo enough space. They would see you from there, where the water surrounded their ankles.

— my dear… — Apollo said sweetly, trotting towards you and taking your hands.

You were confused. Your father, Percy, why didn't you travel together if he came too? Your eyes looked at your sweet Apollo. His current form was the mix of “old” Apollo with Lester.

As soon as he reached your side, you took his hand.

— What's going on? Are you already in trouble? —You asked with a raised eyebrow and a sideways smile.

Apollo smiled and kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off you.

—Or I'll be.

You laughed, that melodious laugh. He definitely didn't want to be without you.

— you'll be? because...? — You were confused, your hand still hooked on Apollo's. You looked at your father who smiled calmly and then at Percy, who was staring at you; He only made that expression when he was terrified of something.

You turned your gaze to Apollo, now a little more worried.

— Love?

— My beloved — Apollo whispered, just for you. Without letting go, he got down on one knee and the velvet chest from before appeared. You held your breath.

The waters stirred.

— There is no poem, song, melody, or haiku that can describe the feelings you make me feel. You are what I always wanted, dreamed and desired. — Apollo opened the small box, revealing a ring; Instead of a precious stone, a small pearl was placed on the ring with two laurel leaves made of gold surrounding it. A clear representation of both. — Today I ask you to let me be your husband because it is me who is given the honor of being the owner of your affection. I promise to take care of it and treasure it.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you knelt down to your boyfriend's height.

— I would like to — The mass of water shook the banks with more force.

A few meters away, Percy, your brother, remained standing, no matter how much the water tried to knock him down. A smile formed on his lips and the first tear ran down his cheek.

Poseidon took his son's shoulder, and they walked towards you.

You looked at your father, who smiled gently at you and then gave Apollo a stern look.

— At sea.

— On Olympus —  Apollo said immediately, determined to win. You raised your eyebrow. Were they fighting over the wedding location?

— The sea

— Olympus

— In the ocean

— Delphi

— Enough! — You snorted and looked disapprovingly at both gods.

Your brother was still silent, certainly not usual. You let go of Apollo and took both of Percy's hands.

Your gaze was shining, that made him feel bad for wanting to shake you and wanting to change your mind.

— You know he's not who he once was, Percy— you whispered.

— I know…

— You even said you liked him, brother

— Shhh — the black-haired covered his sister's mouth — if he listens, won't get over it in years

— I heard —  Apollo said between giggles.

Percy pursed his lips.

—Listen, if you do anything to her, I WILL KILL YOU, APOLLO!

—Percy! —His sister shouted.

— I'm going to kill you, I won't forgive you, I KNOW A TITAN-

Poseidon opened his eyes, his sister grabbed him by the neck.

—PERCY! — they both shouted.

Apollo smiled and hugged him.

Poseidon couldn't take it anymore and he was already gone. He promised to have a talk with Apollo.

Percy remained thoughtful, the sun god still hanging around his neck.

—Does that mean you will be Will's stepmother? —He laughed out loud — can't wait to tell Nico.

You and Apollo looked at each other, silently reaching a mutual agreement.

— I think we keep this information for a while.

Percy furrowed his eyebrows and put a hand on his hip. —With those SPIES FROM THERE, I don't think so.

Laughter was heard in the bushes, and around five campers ran when they were discovered.

— Children of Aphrodite. — Percy said, sure of himself —  tomorrow, when we get to Camp Jupiter, all they will know.

You shook your head in amusement.

— Oh, brother. What will become of you when comes the day and tell you that I am expecting a child?

Apollo choked on his own saliva and Percy on his bile. At least you had the last laugh.

[tiredfox64]

Can I request the MK1 Earthrealm Champions with a fem!rockstar reader? Like when they meet her for the first time at one of her shows in some underground venue or when she’s rehearsing at soundcheck before a show?

(If you need songs for her to perform, may I recommend Kaia Jette’s music, she has songs like Medusa, Star Maiden, Hellfire, Immortal, Lovesick Idiot or you can choose songs yourself…)

Do You Wanna Love My Rock N Roll?

Yip notes: Joan Jett. Gotta be Joan Jett. I've been to a concert of hers two summers ago. She looks good for her age.

Pairings: Earthrealm Champions x Rockstar! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Gave up proofreading, sorry

You have made a name for yourself. Baby, you’re a star! A rockstar that is. A rockstar who has starstruck people from across the world. Many kinds of people want to meet you. Farmers, monks, actors, ex yakuza members…

Alright, there’s more than that but in short, you have captured the eyes of a special group of men. Earthrealms champions to be exact.

Johnny was the one to introduce your music to them all. They were curious since he would blast it whenever he could. In the shower, while getting ready in the morning, during training, whenever really. It disturbed the peace at the Wu Shi Academy but he couldn’t help himself. You were just so amazing and the energy you were blasting out got him going. It even got him singing which was when everyone told him to stop.

Nonetheless, it captured the attention of the others and soon they were grooving to it as well. Kenshi would begin to whisper the lyrics under his breath without even thinking. Raiden would hum the melody while getting ready for the day. Kung Lao would straight up steal Johnny’s phone so he could listen to your music for himself. That was the moment Johnny knew he got them hooked.

They were even more hooked once he showed pictures of you and your band. Wow! You were so cool looking. Tons of pictures with your hair looking loud and wild. Your makeup matched your hair well, especially your eyeliner which made your eyes pop out. Leather and jeans were a wonderful combo for you. Your neck was decorated with chokers and necklaces that looked like chains. Not only was your voice awesome but you in general were awesome.

In a way, you helped them train more. Your music helped pump them up and made them train better. It was a bonding experience for them. It allowed moments where Kenshi and Johnny could put their differences aside. It made them grow closer. Even after the incident with the tournament and other realm bs they still found joy when listening to your music together.

So when Johnny invited them to come to California to see you perform they took their chances. Kung Lao and Raiden did have to beg Liu Kang to let them go though. It was all gonna be worth it! Seeing you in person will be a dream come true for them.

“I can’t believe we are going to see her in person,” Raiden had excitement present in his voice. If his amulet was with him he’d be sparking up like faulty wiring.

“But did we really have to leave your mansion early?” Kenshi asked Johnny.

“Hey! You guys want to see her, right? We have to be early to get a chance to be upfront for her performance. This isn’t a professional concert; this is one of those underground performances that only certain people know about.”

Of course Johnny would know about all your performances. From the big stage ones to the small venues that give people the chance to wreck shit, he’ll know what you’re up to. And he knows he has to be quick to be early to get good spots. Being early and being famous worked in his favor. The moment the security guards saw Johnny they had someone who works at the venue to go tell you. You wouldn’t believe your ears when you heard that Johnny Cage showed up. You had to see it for yourself.

You were still doing a soundcheck and some warm-ups when they arrived. You had to make sure the speakers could handle your music and for the hundredth time, yes, the drummer has their stick bag. You’re preaching to the choir at this point. Lo and behold the actor himself and his friends came walking through the door. You’re a lucky woman to be in the presence of great men.

“Well fuck me! It’s true. Johnny Cage in the flesh.”

You jumped off the stage, your boots making a loud thud once you hit the ground. You looked at the men before you. You’re already starting to like them based on their appearances and the vibes they give off. It’s different from what you expect your fans to look like but that’s not bad at all. You got closer to Johnny so you could get a good look at him. If he weren’t wearing his sunglasses you would see how his eyes widen in excitement.

“I need your good music. I’d die without good music.” Johnny thinks he’s slick for making a reference to one of your songs. “Oh yeah, these are some of my friends. This is Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden.”

The first one you approached was Kung Lao. Immediately you surprised him by running your hands over the shaved sides of his head. Your hand soon went to the back to twirl his small ponytail with your finger.

“I love your hair. I might try this for myself.” You complimented him.

You weren’t looking at his face but this man was stunned. His mouth was open in a joyful smile as his eyes turned towards Johnny. In his mind, he was thanking Johnny for blasting your music every night even though it disturbed his rest. Then you turned your attention towards Raiden. The part of your brain that activates when you see something cute is activated from the sight of his face.

“Aw, look at that baby face. You can’t be a fan of mine, not with that face.” You teased him as you squeezed his cheeks with your hands.

His cheeks started warming up from embarrassment and flattery. No one’s ever described him as having a baby face which is embarrassing. But being touched by your soft hands made this moment worth it. Next was Kenshi. His tattoos caught your eye with how colorful they were and how the art form seemed foreign. You noticed the blindfold over his eyes and weren’t sure if that was a style choice or if it had another purpose. Whatever it was you weren’t sure if it was okay to touch him. That’s until he held his hand towards you, letting you know it was alright. Once you took his hand into yours, your other hand went up and began tracing over the linework of his tattoos.

“I’m digging the tattoos. Might need your tattoo artist’s number.” You joked.

“You don’t want the tattoo artist I have, trust me.” He joked back but his words were true. You didn’t know.

“Well, I sure hope I don’t mess up tonight. I got a good group of men watching me.” Not that you ever messed up before.

“I doubt you will. You’re too amazing to mess up. Plus I need you to give a good performance so I could stream it to my fans.” Thanks, Johnny, no pressure there.

You told them to hang around outside the venue for a bit since you were still getting ready. There was still a good hour before they would truly let people in. They waved to you goodbye, sometimes taking multiple glances at you, before finally leaving.

“They seemed pretty cute.” You hinted at your bandmates.

“Planned orgy?” Your drummer asked. She was dead serious you could see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone.

“What? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“It’s a valid question!”

The venue got packed quickly once the doors opened. Of course, your little group of fighters were front and center. It’s the best spot. They get a clear view of you and their eardrums don’t get busted from the speakers. Kenshi doesn’t need to be blind and deaf. Sento could only do so much for him. With them being in front of you, you took that as an opportunity to play around with them. That’s the fun of being a star. You get to interact with your fans in whatever way you want, if it’s legal of course. The interactions you will have with them will stay in their minds forever.

Your first victim- I mean fan, was Raiden. You were eyeing him the whole time while you sang. The song was good but he did feel a little embarrassed that you were staring at him while yelling “do you wanna touch” in your mic. But you made his head snap up to look at you when you walked up close and rested your right foot on his shoulder. You were gentle while doing it, not putting your whole weight on the poor man.

He stared up at you in awe. His heart was beating as hard as the bass drum. The spotlights shined bright behind you and you were like a demonic angel looking down on him. You had to get back to your other fans so you went him off with a very light kick before walking off. Kung Lao had to catch his friend who stumbled a little.

“What happened?” Raiden asked as if he were in a daze.

It made Kung Lao laugh at how ridiculous Raiden was acting. But his time would be soon.

Your next song was very screechy and chaotic. You were letting the world know of your wild spirit. Kung Lao was loving that. The energy got to him and he developed an appreciation for the electric guitar with how awesome it sounded. And to think he found electronic instruments to have no soul.

The end of the song was coming up and he was jamming out to it. That’s when you started slowly walking towards him. He didn’t notice at first until you dropped down on your knees in front of him. You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in before yelling “Have ya, grab ya, til you’re sore!” right into his face. You had a satisfied smile on your face once you saw the utter shock in his eyes as you let him go. Luckily, Raiden was there to catch him and mock him for acting up as well. You got right back on your feet and continued until there was only pounding from the drums.

Now comes the time you like to jump down and walk through the crowd as you continue to sing. Your fans know not to touch you but to expect you to possible touch them. Raiden and Kung Lao already got their fixings, it’s Kenshi’s moment now. The chorus at the end was coming up and you thought why not give him a surprise. You tried to sneak up behind him thinking he couldn’t actually sense you but you were dead wrong. Though he didn’t turn around, he wanted you to believe you were being sneaky.

Your arm wrapped around his broad shoulders as you continued to sing. The part where your bassist and guitarist drop out and allow you to sing by yourself was coming up. When that moment came up Kenshi decided to turn his neck toward you and sing “I hate myself for loving you” with you. Well, he kind of sang, more like saying the lyrics as you sang them. You smiled proudly before pulling away from him. There was a slight smirk on his face which amazed the rest of the group. At least Kenshi kept his cool with you.

The end of the show was coming up and you did give your attention to Johnny. You didn’t forget him, not while he was shoving his phone towards you. You were saving the best for last. This song was the biggest I don’t fucking care message in the world. With the shit that Johnny pulls sometimes this song works out for him. That’s why he’s your target for the end of the night. At some point you walked up to him and shoved your face into the camera while singing. Gotta give his followers a great show and a good look at your lipstick. What is that, coral blue #2?

Then you decided to mess with him by taking his phone from him. It was like taunting an animal to come get you. You wanted him to jump on stage and he obeyed. He jumped up and took his phone from you, finding your efforts to be funny. You were making this man’s night with how close you were getting to him. Wrapping your arm around his neck, squishing your face against his, gosh it was magical.

But the show must come to an end. All good things come to an end. You kicked Johnny off the stage, not literally, and took a bow with your bandmates. A wonderful performance as always.

The boys were hyped up like kids during a sugar rush. All the way back to Johnny’s mansion they never stopped talking about you and the interactions they had with you. They joked, they laughed, they teased, they enjoyed. What better way to end the night than with a little surprise in the back of Johnny’s pocket.

As he went to grab his keys to his mansion he felt something else in his pocket. When he pulled it out it was a note that he didn’t remember having. When he opened up all their eyes lit up, except for Kenshi’s of course. It read:

Here’s my number:----------

Make sure to share it with your buddies! ;)

Yap notes: I'm so sorry for not posting. I got horrible writer's block and the lasagna put me in a coma. It was too good. Also I just found out my professor for my anthropology class is in Madagascar. LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE STATES! CHECK YOUR EMAILS! Adiós!

[coloursflyaway]

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

[m-jelly]

The bunny's keeper - Chapter 1

@ladycheesington <3

Levi x fem! reader.

Modern AU, fluff, romance, falling in love, Levi has tattoos and piercings, bad boy Levi, protective Levi.

The story: After a chance meeting, you and Levi fall helplessly for each other. With not much money between the two of you, you get creative with your lives and find happiness and joy in the smallest of things. While you're trying to make it in the writing world, Levi is repairing vehicles at his workshop and also doing some other jobs on the side. Erwin is starting a group that most would call a gang, but the aim is to help others and hurt the bad. Levi is a member and Erwin's righthand man. Your relationship with Levi goes through some scary and hard times, from Levi getting hurt, running out of money, stalkers and rival gangs. The two of you stick together and work things out as a strong couple. When the money starts pouring in, you both stay humble, but Levi tries to spoil you as much as possible.

In this chapter: You and Levi meet for the first time and sparks instantly fly. Levi takes you on a cute romantic date.

Part 2

Massive thank you to @ladycheesington for helping me flesh this story out and helping with the side plot of Erwin and how the gang started <3

University was coming to an end and you couldn’t wait for it. After everything you’d been through, you’d had enough. The friends you made in your first year turned out to be terrible people by the end of it all, they were just two-faced and used your kindness. The man who chased you romantically and became your boyfriend was a liar, it turned out you were the mistress and he had a long-distance girlfriend. You felt exhausted by it all, the only good things were you had one really good friend not from the university and you did great with your degree.

Even though you knew you were walking out with a great degree, you didn’t have many jobs lined up. You wanted to write and the only job you could get was editing a pretty crap reporting website online, but the pay was okay and your soon-to-be boss seemed nice. So, it wasn’t too bad, but it meant another couple of years of struggling with money until you worked your way up the ranks or wrote a book.

Today you wanted a break from the noise of it all, which meant a nice lunch with your close friend Erwin was needed. You made your way across campus to Erwin’s business. You weren’t really sure what Erwin did, only that it was odd jobs for people and you didn’t question it because he was a wonderful sweet man. Erwin helped you through so much and was an incredible friend to you.

The closer you got to Erwin’s place of work the more your heart raced, not because you were seeing Erwin but because of a man sitting on his motorbike in front of the building talking to your friend. The bike was an old-school beautiful piece that was black with the melt polished so wonderfully. This man cared deeply for his bike.

He was of average height, but the rest was far from average. His slightly messy raven hair looked so soft just like his black eyelashes. He had a piercing on his lip, eyebrow and ears and you were sure there was one on his tongue, but it wasn't easy to see. He had tattoos on his neck and you were sure he had more, but he wore a leather jacket and gloves which covered him up. His trousers were tight on his thick muscular legs and the biker boots were the tip of the iceberg of sexy on him.

You gripped the strap on your side bag tightly as you felt a surge of arousal inside you. Erwin shouting your name made your heart skip a beat because the biker’s eyes landed on you. His eyes were so beautifully intense as they captured you. You smiled as best as you could, but you were sure you looked stupid. You didn’t know the biker’s heart was racing as fast as yours. A blush was consuming his cheeks as he admired you and how damn beautiful and cute you were.

You smiled at Erwin when you reached him. “Hey, I came because I was wondering if you wanted lunch.”

Erwin placed his hand on your shoulder. “Would love to have lunch. Can my friend come too?”

You stared at the biker to see his eyes had been on you since the moment Erwin brought his attention to you. “Sure thing.”

“This is Levi, he’s a good friend. Levi, this is my lovely friend from university.” He introduced you with a kind smile. “Be nice Levi.”

Levi put his helmet down and offered his gloved hand. “Tch, hi.”

You shook your hand. “Hello. I love your bike, it’s beautiful. I can tell you look after it.”

He blushed hard. “Th-thanks. It’s important to me. I uh…fixed it together myself, it was in scraps when I first bought it.”

You circled the bike. “This looks brand new. You have a talent.” You locked eyes with Levi and felt that fire again between the two of you. “Mm.”

He tilted his head a little. “I’m good with my hands.”

You squeaked a little and looked away from him. “A-Ah, lunch.”

Levi held back a smirk. “Cute.”

Erwin chuckled. “We can walk to our favourite place.”

You stood at Erwin’s side and nodded. “Sounds great.”

Erwin led the way and kept you at his side, but on your other side was Levi. Being in the middle of two handsome men was fantastic. Erwin was this big guy in a nice suit but had few tattoos. Erwin was a tamed-looking bad boy. Levi was this out-in-the-open bad boy, but it seemed there was a softness to him. It was hard not to stare at Levi because he was so dreamy and you felt this pull towards him. Your cheeks burned when you saw he was looking at you. A tiny smile from him made you gasp and look away.

Levi reached over towards you before quickly yanking you against his body as a person on a bicycle flew past. He growled sending a rumble through you. The wonderful scent rolling off him was intoxicating, he smelt so wonderful. He huffed in annoyance. “Fucking idiot.”

Erwin glared at the cyclist. “I hope he skids and slams into a wall.” He glanced down at you. “Are you okay? It’s a good job Levi is quick.”

You turned your head away from Levi’s chest and nodded. “Mm, I’m okay.”

Levi didn’t want to let you go because you felt so good against him, your scent was sweet, your body warm and your curves were sexy. He clenched up a little before releasing you. “Good.”

Erwin smiled when he saw the looks you and Levi were exchanging. “We’re close to our lunch spot.”

You felt your cheeks burning as you walked with the two men. Once the lunch spot came into view, you hurried ahead and went inside. You needed just a little bit of space from the men because you didn’t think your heart could take much more. You picked a spot and released a long sigh, but your relaxation didn’t last long because Levi sat right next to you and Erwin sat opposite.

Levi picked up the menu and looked it over. “Everything is cute-themed.” He looked over at you. “This something you like?”

You giggled. “Ask Erwin.”

Erwin put the menu down. “What can I say? I like pretty things.”

Levi glanced over at you. “I suppose that explains why you keep this one around.”

You flinched at his words. “Huh?”

Levi blushed and avoided your gaze. “I know what I want.”

Erwin smirked. “That’s good. Do you also know what you want to order?”

Levi groaned before ruffling his hair. “Tch, I don’t think you’re here for the food. You’re here for the owner of this café.”

“What if I like both?”

You giggled at their cute exchange. “You’re good friends.”

Erwin smiled. “We are.”

You and Erwin perked up when the pretty owner came over, she was very curvy with cute tattoos. The dress she wore was adorable and the thigh-high socks squeezed her thighs. You always liked her, and she was probably your only other friend. You waved to her as you grinned. “Hi, Kay.”

She waved at you. “Hi.” She gazed at Levi. “Who is this? Is he your boyfriend? When were you going to tell me you had a good-looking boyfriend? He looks badass. You two make such an adorable couple. You’re soulmates, I can sense it.” She saw Levi was bright red and then he was hiding his face. “Oh…I have made things awkward or maybe I have started something.”

Erwin chuckled. “I think you’ve started something.” He said all the orders and smiled at Kay. “I also have one last thing and it is the most important.”

Kay leaned over. “Really? What is it?”

He smiled a bit. “Your number.”

Kay blushed hard. “Do you mean it?”

He nodded. “I’ve been dying for your number for a while now and to take you on a date.”

She flicked a page in her notepad, scribbled down on it and ripped the page. “Here. I look forward to our date.” She noticed you and Levi were staring. “I’ll get your food and drink.”

You hummed a laugh as she hurried away. “Treat her well, Erwin.”

Erwin tapped Kay’s number on his phone. “Like a Queen.”

The two men chatted for a while and you just listened to them talk. Kay returned with the food and stayed for a while to talk to Erwin. As you ate your lunch, Levi kept looking over at you with a blush. You smiled a little at him and decided to talk to him because it seemed like he was desperate to say something, he just didn’t know what or how.

You turned to Levi with your milkshake in your hands. “So, have you and Erwin been friends a while?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I met him about a year ago. I was having a bad time at uni and I kind of ran into him. He’s a great friend.”

“He is.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Any romantic feelings?”

You shook your head. “No, it is pure friendship.”

He fiddled with his glass as he thought over what he wanted to say next. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You felt your cheeks burn and a tingle go through you. “No.”

He locked eyes with you. “Do you want to?”

“What…what do you mean?” You were hoping he meant him, but it wasn’t obvious.

He gulped a little. “I meant…uh…you know…I’m single and you’re single.” He groaned a bit. “Sorry, this fucking sucks. I’m so shit.” He let out a long sigh. “I think you’re incredibly pretty. You’re cool, kind and sweet. I just…I want to keep you…”

“Keep me?”

“Around! I uh…shit…”

You nibbled your lip. “I’m happy for you to keep me.”

He gazed at you with a strong blush. “Really?”

“Yes. Can I give you my number?”

He fumbled with his phone and opened the contacts. “Y-Yes.” He blushed. “S-sorry my phone isn’t expensive. I just…I buy what I can afford…I umm…I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“Money doesn’t matter to me.” You smiled sweetly. “I’m a university student. I don’t have any money and I don’t mind if you don’t. All that matters to me is you like me and I like you, also we treat each other well. No, using each other or cheating.” You got nervous. “I’m the only one you’re dating.”

Levi frowned. “Did someone date you while they were with someone else?”

You nodded. “My ex. He dated me and was with someone else at the same time. I never knew.”

“Tch, what a piece of shit. He should have his dick and balls cut off. That is no man.”

You giggled. “You’re cute.”

“Th-thanks.” He looked up at Erwin. “You heading out?”

Erwin smiled a bit. “Yeah, Kay and I are going out on a date. It means you two can get cosy.”

You stood up and smiled a bit. “I probably should go home as I have a few essays to finish.”

Levi stood with you. “I can drive you back. I have two helmets.”

You smiled. “Thank you. I’d love that.” You waved to Erwin. “Have fun.”

Levi escorted you out of the café and down the road. He wanted to hold your hand but wasn’t sure if he should and felt so nervous. He talked with you the whole walk back to his bike, everything you said fascinated him. Even though he looked like a punk rocker bad boy and you a sweet little bunny of a woman, you both shared so much in common with each other. You managed to make each other laugh so hard.

He opened his side bag on his bike and pulled out the spare helmet. “This okay?”

You nodded. “It’s cool.”

He blushed hard. “I’ll make you a cute one if we stay as a couple. I…I want to. This sounds odd saying this, but I just feel so drawn to you.”

You placed your hands on Levi’s. “Me too. I like you a lot. You’re so damn handsome. I bet the tongue piercing feels nice.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “What?”

You yanked the helmet out of his hands and put it on your head. “N-nothing. I’m ready to go.”

He sat on his bike and put his helmet on. “Sit behind me and hold on tightly. Okay?”

You sat down and wrapped your arms around Levi. “Yes.”

Levi smiled when you squealed in delight at him racing off. He weaved around traffic and listened to your instructions for your address. Going fast was fun, but at the same time, he wanted to slow down so you could spend as much time as possible together. When you mentioned where to pull up, his heart sank in his chest because it meant his time with you was over.

You slipped off the back of Levi’s bike and pulled the helmet off. You grinned at Levi. “That was so much fun. Can we do that again sometime?”

He nodded at you and took his helmet off so he could gaze at you. “I would love that.”

You put the helmet in the bag. “You know, I don’t want to leave.”

Levi gazed at you. “I don’t want you to leave either.” He reached over and took your hand. “These feelings in me are confusing and exciting.” He lifted your hand and kissed. “You’re so sweet, kind and funny.” He pulled you closer and looked up at you. “I’ll organise the best date ever, I swear.”

You giggled. “I’m so excited. I just want to be with you and spend time with you.”

He leaned up and kissed you taking you both by surprise. He pulled back as a blush spread on his cheeks. “Uh.”

You giggled. “Did you just?”

He shoved his helmet on and grabbed the handles of his motorbike. “Mm.”

You reached over and pulled his helmet off. “I liked it.” You leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “I like you. I’ll see you soon.”

He gazed at you with adoration in his eyes. “Yeah.”

You placed his helmet back on before stepping back. You wave to him with a sweet smile. “Bye.”

Levi waved at you as he felt like he was in a daze. “Bye.”

You put on an outfit you love but also something to fluster and grab Levi’s attention. You knew that you were going on the back of Levi’s bike, so you made sure that you wore something cute but something you could ride in. Since parting with Levi, you had texted and called each other nonstop. A strong and passionate romance was blossoming between you and Levi. Those around the two of you would comment on how it seemed like you were soulmates.

The two of you thought about the one single kiss all the time, you both wanted more but you didn’t get a chance to meet up. So, today was the first official day of seeing him again and having a date. As you finished getting ready, a tingle of pleasure shot through you when you heard the wonderful deep rough sound of Levi’s bike. He was early.

You grabbed your bag, hopped around as you yanked on your boots and then raced out of your apartment to go see him. With a quick bye to your roommate, you made your way down the stairs, flew out the front door and landed in Levi’s arms. You squealed in delight at finally being with the man you knew deep in your very bones was going to be your forever.

Levi dropped you on your feet and blushed at how pretty you were. He longed to see you and the texting and calls were not enough. If Levi had a tail, it would be wagging hard at seeing you again. He was just so happy to have you in his arms. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You nibbled your lip. “You look so handsome.”

“I uh…I look okay, thank you though…” He flinched. “Oh, I got you something.” He opened his side bag and pulled out a helmet with chibi rabbits on. “This is for you.”

You gasped in delight and admired the cute helmet. “I love it.” You hugged it against you. “Thank you so much.” You moved closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

“R-Really!?” He cleared his throat as he felt embarrassed that he’d gotten a bit loud. “I would love…like a kiss.”

You placed the helmet on his bike seat before walking right up to Levi. You linked your arms around Levi’s neck and smiled at him. You tilted your head and pressed your lips against Levi’s. You hummed in happiness when Levi wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him. The two of you slotted together so perfectly. Your heart raced when you felt his hot tongue on your lip. You parted your lips and moaned as his tongue slipped into your mouth. A shiver went through you when you felt his hot tongue with a piercing move against yours.

You pulled back and hummed. “Your piercing feels nice.”

“I’m glad you like it. If you don’t, I can take it out.”

You shook your head and lightly touched the piercing on his lip. “I adore all your piercings.”

He hummed. “Well, you haven’t seen all of them.”

You blushed. “Huh?”

He went bright red. “N-nothing! Shall we go?”

You pulled your helmet on. “Yes. I’m excited.”

“Me too.”

You waited for Levi to sit on his bike correctly before you sat behind him and hugged him tightly. A little squeal escaped you as he drove off and started weaving through traffic. You had no clue where you were going, but it was exciting. As he drove you started to recognise the place around you, it seemed like you were close to Erwin’s office as well as the workshop where Levi repairs cars and bikes.

Levi drove past where he worked and kept going further until he reached an apartment block. He pulled up and parked the bike. “We’re here.”

You slipped off the back. “Where is here?”

He pulled his helmet off and sighed. “Um, it’s my place but we’re not going into my apartment.” He climbed off and sorted out the helmets before grabbing a bag. “We’re going to the roof.”

You grinned. “Sounds exciting.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.” He escorted you to the fire escape and then lifted you to the beginning part. He jumped up after you and began climbing up the stairs with you. “Are you okay with heights?”

You hummed. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad.” He got to the last part and looked up. “I will go first and then I’ll help you up after.”

“Thank you.”

He climbed up the ladder before turning and offering his hand. “Come on.”

You giggled and started climbing up after him. “This is such a fun mystery.”

Levi pulled you up and onto the roof. “I set up a nice little area.”

As soon as Levi turned you saw the amazing setup. A little fort had been set up by him. A gazebo-like structure was the structure of it and then a waterproof cover covered the top. Fairy lights were hooked up to create a pretty lighting so you could see when it got dark. There was a stove to cook things, but it wasn’t lit yet. It seemed he had used this place before to be alone, but now it was a place for him and you.

Levi stumbled closer to it. “It’s not the best, but I tried to assemble something. I don’t have much money, so the quality of food probably sucks…”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Levi, I’ve been a university student for three years. I lived on cheap food all that time. I love that kind of food. Besides, it teaches you to be creative and it is fun!”

He smiled at you. “Yeah, yeah it does.”

“Besides…” you walked to the front of the little fort to see blankets, cushions and pillows “this looks super fucking cosy. I get to cuddle up with you in here for hours. I think that is the best date ever!”

He moved over to the front and slipped his shoes off. “I even got us entertainment.”

You took your shoes off and climbed in. “Oh yeah?”

He pointed to the buildings across. “Apartments and business buildings. We can people watch.”

You gasped. “Oh, I love that!”

“I love.” Levi gasped and stopped himself from finishing off his sentence. “Ah, do you want uh…a drink?”

You grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around you. “Love one.”

He opened a cooler and pulled out two diet cokes. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You gazed at the can. “I’m surprised that it’s not booze.”

He played with his can. “I didn’t want you to think I was just getting you drunk, you know? You’re important to me. I want us to be sober on our first date and enjoy each other’s company.”

“It’s a nice change.” You shuffled closer and leaned against Levi. “This is perfect.”

Levi’s heart fluttered in his chest. “I’m glad. Shall I put some music on?”

You nodded and pulled the blanket off you a little and put one side around Levi. “Please.”

Levi put some music on and then snuggled with you under the blanket. “Let me know when you want to eat. I’ll cook something up.”

“You’re the best.”

A blush spread over his cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know about that…but thank you.”

You pressed yourself against him and settled nicely against him. “You’re so lovely and warm.”

“You too.” He hummed. “Can I put my arm around you?”

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arm around you as soon as you permitted him. He gave you a little squeeze and looked out at the building across from you. “Those suits can’t be comfortable.”

You hummed a laugh. “I always wondered about that with men. I mean, a man in a nice suit is sexy but wearing it all day must be a pain.” You looked up at Levi. “What do you wear for work? You’re a mechanic right?”

He blushed. “Jeans normally. A Jumpsuit is useful, but I tie it around my waist. I also do jobs on the side with Erwin. I like the work I do with Erwin. For that job, I wear long-sleeved black shirts and jeans.”

Your eyes sparkled. “Tight long sleeves?”

“Yes?”

You hugged Levi. “I bet you look so sexy.”

Levi shivered. “I ah…maybe.”

You looked up at him. “I think you’re so handsome and sexy.”

“I think you’re incredible. You’re so pretty, cute and sexy.” He leaned down and kissed you. “I adore you.”

“I adore you.” You reached towards him and lightly touched the earrings on his ear. “So nice.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry, but I just want to keep kissing you.”

You giggled. “I’d be happy with that. I want it too.”

Levi smiled before crashing his lips against yours. He nipped your lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth. The two of you moaned in delight as you felt the tingle and the heat between the two of you. The fire that Levi and you shared was addictive and hypnotic. You couldn’t get enough of each other and always wanted to be together. You didn’t want to rush things, but the two of you were so perfect for each other and had such a bond that there was no use fighting what you had.

You flopped back onto the covers and giggled as you looked up at Levi. “Cute.”

Levi leaned over you. “I’m cute?”

“Very.”

He hummed. “Well, if it’s a good thing then I am cute.” He leaned down and kissed you. “I can’t believe you want to be with me.”

You cupped his face. “How can I not?” You went to pull him down for a kiss but shouting caught your attention. You looked over at the building across to see two women shouting at a well-dressed man. “What in the world?”

Levi shifted off you, lay on his side next to you and placed a hand on your tummy. “Looks like a fight of lovers. He’s been having an affair maybe?”

You hummed. “I think you’re right.” You gasped as an idea struck you. “Or, she saved a precious cookie and one of them ate it. She doesn’t mind they’re shagging, but the cookie is everything.” You gasped and put on a voice for the woman. “Jason you know very well how much those cookies mean to me! They are my life-givers.”

Levi chuckled and played along. “Thing is my darling, cookies seem to disappear around me! The closer I get to one the more it slowly disappears.”

“Well, I say that makes no sense! The cookie was my cure.”

Levi squeezed you. “It’s the government! They did this to me?”

“They made you a cookie destroyer?”

“Yes!”

“How awful. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with someone who destroys cookies. I love them too much.”

Levi gasped. “Oh, the horror of it all! The government takes away my cookie love and wants to destroy me!”

You laughed hard. “This was fun.”

Levi smiled down at you. “It is.” He thought about the gang and criminal work he did for Erwin. “What would you do if the government was after me?”

You hummed in thought. “I would hide you and protect you.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You nodded. “Of course.” You reached up and lightly touched his cheek. “I’d look after you.”

Levi felt his heart race and his cheeks burn. He leaned down and hid his face in the crook of your neck. “That makes me happy.”

You reached up and played with his hair. You rolled a little to face him and wrapped your other arm around him. “I want you to be happy.”

Levi hugged you for a moment before pulling back and seeing your eyes were closed. He thought it was adorable how you felt so relaxed and comfy with him that you had fallen asleep. He snuggled against you again and drifted off into a light sleep as well. As time went on, Levi was awoken by a rumble. Once he opened his eyes, he saw rain was coming and it was due to a storm. The shelter he had built was perfectly safe for you both.

He leaned up and watched the rain while he made sure he held you close. When you started waking up he knew that he had to move you inside. “Sweet bunny lady?”

You opened your eyes and hummed. “Levi?”

He smiled down at you. “The rain is pretty bad. We should head inside. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You sat up and ruffled your hair. “I’d love to go into your place. We can have dinner there, right?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled. “Allow me to cook.”

“Sure!” He packed up everything to make sure it stayed dry. He turned the lights off and then grabbed your bag for you. “We’ll go through the door instead of the fire escape.”

“Lead the way.”

He grabbed your hand and ran across the roof with you as you both giggled in delight. He fumbled with his keys, unlocked the roof access door and yanked you inside. He panted a bit on the stairs before looking down at you to see you were wet, water was trickling down your pretty face and breasts. He felt a hunger inside him and gulped hard.

You shivered a little. “Cold.”

Levi flinched. “Ah, sorry.” He pulled you down the stairs until he got to his floor. He unlocked his front door and paused. “Just to warn you…”

You caressed his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry for your financial situation. You are perfect. I fell for you because of how fun and wonderful you are. I don’t give a shit about money. Today’s date has been the best I’ve ever been on. Who the fuck needs those stupid fancy restaurants. I’m a girl who loves a fat burger, or a massive pizza, or a huge serving of ramen.”

Levi smiled. “I love all those.” He pushed the door open. “Come on in.”

You slipped into his small apartment and fell in love. It was simple with a cute clean kitchen. He didn’t have a sofa, but he did have lots of soft cushions and a blanket in front of a small coffee table that he must have used as a dining table. The tv was small but you didn’t need anything big. You had one that was bigger and a gaming system, which would fit perfectly here. In the far corner with a room divider hiding it a bit was a nicely made bed, but there was no bed frame. His bed was just a double mattress with the softest-looking duvet and pillows. The only door you saw must have gone to his bathroom.

You loved how he had a fair few windows, one was to the fire escape that looked like Levi often used to leave his apartment. “This is so cute.” You slipped your shoes off and jacket. “Could I borrow some clothes? I’m a bit wet.”

He nodded and made his way to a wardrobe. He grabbed a shirt of his and jogging bottoms. “Will these be okay?”

You gasped in delight. “Gimmie! Yes!” You took them from him and bounced on the spot. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll get some drinks for us.”

You hurried to his bathroom and changed into the new clothes. You adored how they smelt of Levi, but parts of them were tight. The bottoms were a tad snug on your thighs and bum, but loose elsewhere. The top was tight over your breasts, but big on the rest of you. You still loved his clothes on you and thought you looked nice.

As soon as you hurried out of the bathroom Levi was in awe of you. Levi couldn’t believe how adorable you looked. He moved closer to you and cupped your face. “You look so adorable.” He kissed you and hummed. “So sweet.”

You whined a bit. “I wanna hug you, but you’re soaking wet.”

Levi kissed the end of your nose. “I want cuddles. So, I will change.”

“You okay with me cooking?”

“Sure. Help yourself to what I have.”

You checked what he had and it was just perfect for you. You were going to make some tasty ramen. You put together some noodles in water. As everything bubbled away you boiled two eggs and cut up some veg to add to it. You hummed a song to yourself and felt comfortable like you were meant to be here with Levi.

Levi gathered up the clothes and hung everything up to dry. He glanced over at you and felt his heart swell, you looked so good in his apartment in his things. He walked up behind you and hugged you tightly. “Mm.”

You placed a hand on Levi’s. “You okay handsome?”

He nuzzled the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. “Mm.”

You giggled. “Am I going to get more from you than mm?”

“Mm.” He sighed your name.

You turned in his arms and kissed him. “Mm.”

He blushed. “That’s my line.”

“Not anymore.” You cupped his face. “What were you thinking about?”

“Just how good you look in my apartment. How I always want to see this.”

You smiled at him. “Well, I like being here.”

He blushed before lowering his head a bit. “Um…dinner smells really good.”

“Thank you.”

He spoke with just a whisper. “I like you so much.”

You leaned up and kissed him. “I like you too.”

He released you. “I’ll set the table.”

“Thank you, handsome.”

Levi shivered a bit. “That a pet name?”

You giggled as you filled the bowls with ramen. “Maybe. “

He sat at the coffee table. “I love them.”

You placed the food on the table and sat with him.  “Enjoy!”

Levi leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”

The two of you ate together as you chatted. Once the food was gone, Levi cleaned up before setting up the sitting area with blankets and cushions. The two of you browsed a streaming service and put a movie on as you snuggled closely. As the night went on you both started to get tired. The first to fall asleep was you and Levi took it as a compliment again. He gently lays you down before making his bed for the two of you to share.

He gently woke you up. “Hey, cute little bunny it is bedtime. I can’t image you want to sleep here.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

He hushed you as you got upset. “I meant the floor. I want to help you to bed.”

You sniffed. “Oh, I thought you meant…thank you for letting me stay.”

He helped you to your feet. “I’ll be honest, I don’t want to let you go.”

You hummed a laugh. “Good.” You stumbled to his bed and shifted a little with your bra before whipping it out from under the shirt and plopping it on the floor. “Better.” You sat on the mattress and looked up at Levi. “You don’t mind me sharing the bed, do you?”

“Not at all.” He pulled his shirt off and blushed. “Sorry, I don’t like sleeping with a shirt on.”

You pulled the jogging bottoms off. “I don’t like bottoms, so I guess we make a whole outfit.”

Levi stared at your bare legs. “Mm…”

You slipped under the cover and relaxed. “Comfy.”

“Can I cuddle up to you?”

You nodded. “Please.”

He shifted closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Goodnight.” He softly said your name before kissing your forehead.

You closed your eyes and relaxed. “Mm, goodnight Levi.

[talaok]

Since all the nominations for Emmys, I need one fic where reader is either video calling or with Pedro when nominations are announced. Somethig fluffy and full of emotions cuz Pedro deserves all of this 😊

a/n: this ask skipped the line just cause I felt that if I posted this next week it wouldn't have made as much sense, so yeah here it is (also, I’m so happy for him and Bella, like omg man)

Today was the day.

Pedro was never usually one to care about this stuff, yes he was grateful, and yes he was happy, but no other time had he felt this electricity in the air, this buzz telling him that something was about to happen... something good of course.

He had set up his tablet on the coffee table in front of the couch, waiting for the announcement to start, but he hadn't even managed to sit- he was too nervous, too excited.

A ringing sounded through the room all of a sudden, and after an initial scare, he smiled, glad you finally could call him.

You were on set. In Vancouver. A thousand miles from him.

"Is it on yet?"

Your eagerness spurt through the screen.

And he thought he was exited

"nope"

"what? How much longer?"

He glanced at the screen, feeling a tiny goosebump traveling up his back at the countdown.

"two minutes"

"Oh my god!" You squeaked, smiling so wide your cheeks almost hurt "how are you feeling?"

"nervous" he chuckled drily

"Oh c'mon, what about? We both know you're gonna crush it"

"I hope so" he sighed "God I don't know why I care so much" he laughed "The only important thing is that Bella and the show get nominated"

"And you, of course" you chirped in

He tried to fight a smile, but it still pulled at his lips "Well if there's room..."

"There you are" you nodded, your smile fading ever so little after a brief moment "god I wish I could be there"

"Me too" he agreed "but at least w-" a noise in the direction of the coffee table caught his attention

"Oh shit, it's starting"

"shit, go go go go" you mumbled, feeling all too powerless in your position.

He sat down in front of the screen as the announcers appeared on it.

"what are they saying?"

"uh- just their names and stuff"

"ok-"

A moment passed 

"what about now?"

He laughed, ever so thankful for your presence "Still that, sweetheart"

"fine, just- tell me when they start telling the categories"

"ok ok here we go" 

"what is it?"

"talk series"

"Bo-ring" you huffed, making him chuckle "I want the good stuff"

"they're doing reality programs now"

"oh my god! it's like they want to torture us"

...

"Oh shit" 

A pit created itself in Pedro's stomach

"what?"

"lead actor in a drama series"

"oh my god" you screeched, doing a poor job of trying not to freak out "C'mon baby I know believe in you"

"jeff bridges... Brian cox... Kieran Culkin... Bob Odenkirk..."

come on come on come on

His mouth widened as he let out an incredulous breath.

"baby?" you called, already knowing but wanting a confirmation "baby pl-"

"I got nominated"

"I told you!" You basically screamed, jumping out of your chair "I told you, baby! I'm so happy for you! You deserve all of it babe, all. of. it." 

"I can't believe this" he smiled, his eyes glimmering with that spark in his eyes he only got whenever he was truly happy "This is crazy"

"Well believe it baby, you're an Emmy nominee"

"I just-" he interrupted himself as the next category was announced "shit it's best actresses"

You nodded, trying to cool down while really just mindlessly pacing around your trailer 

"Bella Ramsey!" he laughed "Bella Ramsey! They did it! I knew they fucking would"

"oh my god!" you grinned "What a power couple"

"I know right?" he chuckled "I'll have to call them I-" and once again, the announcers interrupted his train of thought.

His gaze moved from you to the tablet again.

"best drama series?"

He only nodded, clearly all the anxiety coming back.

"Andor... Better call Saul... the crown... House of the Dragon..."

he fell silent as his eyes came back to you, and this time... this time they shined with tears of joy.

"yeah?" you asked, feeling your heart beating out of your chest.

"yeah," nodded.

You felt your heart and chest and body fill with pure joy as you let some tears fall from your eyes.

"you did it baby" you sniffled "I knew you would. You deserve it, all of it" you smiled, wishing with all your heart you were there to hug him and kiss him and whisper in his ear

"How are you feeling?"

He laughed "I don't even know, I just- I think I need time to process this" he smiled, his hands slightly shaking "A-Are you ready to go to the Emmys?"

"are you?" You laughed, quite literally quivering from the excitement

"As ready as I'll ever be"

[cupidjyu]

red flavor

eric x reader (submission for the cutest tbz summer event💕)

summary: your planned summer getaway doesn’t go as expected and it’s only you and eric, your childhood best friend. but, new feelings may just join you on your little vacation

genre: summer time!! beach house, childhood friends to lovers (my absolute fav btw), fluff, eric pining for years, getting together, cute little memories, feelings realization, juyeons just there for a second, slow dancing, slight hurt/comfort, eric's love language is fixing your hair, author is a big red velvet fan if you couldn't tell, love confession notes: this is more of a character/relationship study so if youre expecting a super simple oneshot with lesser description then im sorry🥲 songs mentioned are from this specific summer album LOL word count: 7.8k

Sometimes, you just liked to observe. A lot of people did anyway for various reasons. Some people, like your friend Juyeon, observed for the sake of reading others’ needs and emotions. He was always the one to notice when you were upset and he would hurry to make horrible puns just to make you laugh. 

Other people, like Eric who’s been your best friend since the age when you two couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter, observed for the sake of learning who a person was as a whole. He was the one who took note of your tendency to shift energies and he would adjust his own to match yours.

You, on the other hand, liked to observe simply because what you saw brought you back to the past. You treasured good memories, so being able to see them again in the future brought a sense of joy to your heart like a flickering lightbulb.

In Eric’s room, there was a lot to observe that brought back the past. The broken science project of the solar system because you two were dancing too much late at night, the cut-out superhero mask that was supposed to be Eric’s last-minute Halloween costume in middle school, and the foolish paper heart that sparked it all in the first place.

Sitting on his bed, you then observed your two closest friends. Juyeon was on his phone whilst drinking from a water bottle—which he comically once tripped on that led to his lunch tray and its contents flying into your clothes. But that was how you became friends anyway. Eric was simply doodling in his sketchbook with a small, content smile. Just like he had done on that same paper heart in elementary school.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a boy, about your age with a backpack on that was much too big for him. He had a kind smile and bright eyes.

And then he shoved a red, paper heart in your hands. Though, it took you a second to realize if it even was one with the edges so raggedly cut.

Bringing it up to your face, you read the large, shaky letters with your newly obtained skill of reading words.

“Will you marry me?”

Young Eric simply had bad comprehension skills. Apparently, he wasn't proposing. He just wanted to become friends.

“How does ‘marry me’ and ‘be my friend’ sound at all similar?” You muttered to yourself. 

Eric looked up and groaned. “You’re still on that? I was a baby back then. A cute one at that.” 

“An annoying one at that.”

Eric was about to argue back but Juyeon had spoken up with his lovely and calm voice.

“Let’s not fight. We have a trip to look forward to.”

The two of you immediately brightened at his reminder—the Summer Getaway. The three of you called it that because you all sucked at coming up with a better name. It was the trip that you had been planning since the first year of high school. The beach house to rent, the seaside to visit, everything already was laid out. And after so many years of fumbling with life and its many obstacles, it was finally happening.

“Tomorrow!” Eric sat up. “You’re all going to witness my dreamy beach boy actor debut.”

Juyeon looked at him, unimpressed. “And who’s the love interest?”

You snorted, turning your gaze over to Eric, only for him to be looking straight at you. Widening your eyes, you stuttered in confusion.

“No one,” He curtly said, turning away suddenly, his ears slightly red.

It was awkwardly silent. Until Juyeon nervously laughed. “What about clothes? Summer outfits?” He rambled. “We have to take a lot of pictures.”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. “I bought some just for this trip actually.” You frowned. “My paycheck practically disappeared.”

Juyeon laughed. “Was it as expensive as your prom outfit?”

Again, memories rushed back to you. More negative this time. With a frustrated sigh, you grimaced. “Let’s not bring that up. It was so bad, I looked horrible.”

Juyeon shook his head sympathetically. But your ears picked up someone else’s voice.

“I think you looked beautiful,” You heard Eric whisper. But maybe you were imagining things. 

“Too bad my date dumped me the day after,” You continued.

“He was horrible for that,” Juyeon remarked.

“That’s why you should’ve taken me,” Eric piped up. He got up to sit next to you on the bed. And to your surprise, his hand gently came up to your hair to smooth it down. But of course, that's what friends did.

You nodded in agreement. “I should have. You looked handsome that day.”

Eric glanced at you briefly and you could catch the sight of his cheeks turning red. “Of course I did,” He stammered. 

“Then why didn’t you ask anyone out for prom?” You questioned. “You went all alone.”

“Because you—“ Eric sighed, hurt flitting across his expression. “Nevermind.”

Juyeon coughed anxiously. “So!” He blurted. “The trip! Let’s talk about the trip tomorrow.”

—

“Where’s Juyeon?” Eric called out when he noticed you approaching the car. Yes, you prepared so much for the trip that you even had the car inspected and tested the driver—Eric—to make sure he could properly drive without swerving from talking too much. He did talk a lot.

You shrugged, lugging your bag packed with all the things you needed.

“He’s not here yet?” You frowned.

Eric shook his head with a worried look. “Usually he’s the early one.”

You hummed, standing next to him. And then you looked him over. He had dressed differently, his hair swept up nicely and his skin glowed golden in the sun. You wouldn't admit it but he did give off “dreamy beach boy” as corny as it may have sounded.

After a few minutes, you were about to call Juyeon to make sure he didn’t oversleep until you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What took you so long?” You complained.

Juyeon furrowed his eyebrows and that was when you realized that he did not have a single piece of luggage with him. 

“I can’t go,” He breathlessly responded.

Eric inhaled sharply. “What?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Juyeon whined. “Involving my cat.”

You pouted knowing very well that Juyeon absolutely adored his cat and would drop anything for the feline, including this trip that you’d all been planning years ago.

“But go without me,” Juyeon rushed to say. “I don’t want to hold you both back.”

The two of you silently stared at him, disappointment and guilt holding grim over your faces. 

“Please.” His eyes softened. “Just make sure to send pictures.”

—

The car ride that was initially meant to be a karaoke session, turned into a quiet silence. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was never awkward between you and Eric. But it was solemn.

“He did say he’d be fine,” Eric spoke, flipping the right turn signal.

You sighed. “But you know him. He always likes to hide his disappointment.”

Eric shook his head. “He would be more disappointed if he knew we weren’t having fun.”

You thought for a moment. And then you nodded because it was true. You often observed that Juyeon would smile whenever you or Eric would smile first. He was like an older brother to you.

“Okay. Then I’m choosing the first song.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips as you queued up the music.

“Go ahead,” Eric laughed.

When you pressed play, he gasped. He glanced at you with acknowledgment accompanied by a slight wince. “Is this…”

“Mhm,” You giggled. “The song we sang together when we got drunk for the first time?”

“The headache I had after,” Eric groaned. “Never again.” You smiled at the fond memory. 

“And you’re such a clingy drunk.”

“I was not.”

“You literally hugged me and kissed my cheek,” You deadpanned. “You even said—“

Eric had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm back hug, so tight that you could feel his hips and chest pressed up against your back. He smelled faintly of cherry wine and from the corner of your eye, you could see his adorably flushed cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes. “Please, don’t ever leave,” He cried, snuggling his face into your neck. “You’re so special to me.” 

But then again, that’s just what friends say, right? 

Your best friend looked at you in confusion. Ah, he must have forgotten. 

“What did I say?”

“Nothing,” You muttered. Choosing to change the topic, you turned up the volume. And soon enough, you were dancing and singing along to the song like you were on cloud nine. Eric chuckled to himself as he watched you with soft eyes, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You glared playfully. “Eyes on the road, sir.”

Eric rolled his eyes but obliged. For safety, of course. When the song ended, you sat back in your seat and you looked at him. Sometimes you forgot that Eric wasn’t a little boy who played hide and seek with you anymore. He was a man who had grown up to be… fairly attractive. His jawline was sharp now, he was taller, and he had muscles from his endless workouts that you would constantly walk in on him doing. You could see that from the way he had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, handling the steering wheel with one hand. Taking a gulp, you quickly looked away. What were you thinking?

“Eyes on me?” He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you teasingly.

You cleared your throat. “No, I— You just look bad today.”

“Mhm,” He hummed smugly. “Sure.”

And for some reason, your cheeks felt unusually warm.

It was a long road trip so naturally, that meant that the evening would come. It was dark out now and the music was long turned off. At some point, you had fallen asleep, the sound of the car engine lulling you easily.

Whilst you were dreaming of a beach house lit naturally by the bright sun, Eric took a glimpse at you. He smiled to himself affectionately, staying quiet. But it faltered when he noticed you shiver from the cool night air. 

Parking to the side for a moment, he reached back to pull out a blanket. Carefully and lovingly, he placed it over you, trying not to wake you up.

But, you always had the tendency to wake up whenever the car was stopped so you felt every single sensation with your eyes still closed. The warmth of his fingertips brushing against your arm, the rhythm of your quickening heartbeat, and… the press of a soft pair of lips on your forehead.

But maybe it was just a dream.

When Eric had started driving, before you dozed off again, you could hear him humming a song. A song that you recognized. A love song.

—

The house was ten times better than what it looked like in the pictures. The exterior of it looked like it came straight out of those real estate magazines. Palm trees decorated the scene and if you had simply turned around, you would be met with the breathtaking sight of the beach with its clear, almost sparkling ocean. Scrambling to explore the inside, you were surprised to see just how big it was. The ceiling was tall and the interior was embellished with various decorations. 

“This is what we deserve after practicing good financial habits for all those years,” You marveled, opening all the doors to reveal gorgeous rooms that were bright simply from the sunlight outside. Just like you had dreamed about. Eric hummed, trailing behind you, taking in the house silently, as opposed to your constant awes.

Finally, the two of you ended up in the master bedroom. 

Turning to him slowly, you put on your best puppy-like impression. “Can I have this one?”

Eric looked at you thoroughly unimpressed. “Is that the best you could do?”

You even pouted this time. He still stared back, completely unabashed. At a loss, you leaned in close, right up to his face. And for some reason, almost immediately, he was backing away with reddening cheeks.

“O-okay,” He stuttered. “Fine. You can have this one.”

Cheering, you flopped down on the bed, and with a sigh, you looked out the window dreamily. “If only my room was this neat all the time. It’s always messy.”

Eric huffed, lying down next to you. You turned your head to him and smiled softly at his serene expression as he looked up to the ceiling. 

“You can always call me if you need someone to clean your room,” He mumbled. “I’m the neatest after all.”

“Ah…” You breathed. “You’re right. Last time when you–”

“Knock, knock.” You could hear Eric’s voice from outside your door. With a slight sniffle, you brought the covers over your face, curling up to yourself. Being hit with a sudden slump that left you unable to do anything except lie in bed defeated wasn’t entirely ideal. 

Your room was an absolute mess and when Eric had called you, he immediately could tell from your voice that you were having a hard time. You heard the door opening and him entering the room. He stood there silently for a moment. But suddenly, you could hear various sounds. Trash being picked up, clothes being folded… peeking your head outside of your blankets, you realized that he was cleaning up for you. 

With tears welling up in your eyes at his kind actions, you sniffled even louder. Eric instantly looked up at the sound and he was right by your side. He pulled you into a hug, whispering sweet, sweet words in your ear as his hand stroked the back of your head soothingly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” He had whispered, pulling away so that he could brush a strand of hair out of your face gently. Even caressing your cheek, he had let you fall asleep against his chest.

But that’s what friends do, right?

Clearing your throat, you sat up abruptly. Eric followed, staring at you with slight perplexion. Suddenly, you turned to him.

“I never got to say thank you,” You blurted out. “For taking care of me that one time. So… thank you.”

And you had feared he would question what you were talking about. But instead, he nodded with a small smile.

“Of course,” He chuckled casually. “I’ll always care for you, dummy.” 

You smiled at that and then you lunged forward, pulling him into a hug. With your sheer force, he fell back on the bed. And just like that, it was the two of you, giggling and hugging each other, arms wrapped around warmly, in the midst of a beautiful beach house.

–

After unpacking and getting everything in order, you were so exhausted that you had fallen asleep almost immediately. But waking up in the morning was refreshing, with the bright sunshine pouring straight onto your face, warming you up perfectly. With a satisfied yawn and stretch, you walked out of your room, still dressed in your sleepwear.

But you paused abruptly when you saw Eric standing in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist and his sleeves rolled up again. He looked up and he smiled.

“Let’s cook together today.”

You gave him a pained smile and approached him. Before you could even say anything, he was leaning in to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face from just waking up. You’ve always noticed how gentle his hands were on you. When with Juyeon, he was rough and playful. But with you… he treated you like a piece of glass.

“We still suck though,” You complained.

“All the more reason to practice?” He gave you a quirked-up smile. 

Late at night, Eric was sleeping over. But suddenly, he had sprung up, startling you from your dozing off.

“I’m hungry,” He grumbled. “Let’s cook something.” 

And that was how you found yourself, half-asleep in the kitchen, figuring out how to make a simple dish from an old cookbook in one of your drawers. The two of you tried so hard, following each and every direction, only for it to taste like burnt pieces of garbage.

And so, Eric, with a sleepy, raspy voice, had to order takeout. You were silent until your eyes landed on the failed attempt once again. It looked like a blob of black, green, and somehow… pink. And soon enough, you were bent over the counter, laughing so hard over the monstrosity. You had expected Eric to join in on your laughing fit but instead, he had put down his phone and only stared at you fondly.

His eyes were sparkling as they met with yours and he had on the softest tug of his lips. Something in his expression made you stop laughing over how embarrassed you had gotten. Why was he looking at you like that? Almost like he… 

But that’s just how friends look at each other, is it not?

“You look focused,” Eric remarked, brushing past you to flip the pancakes.

“Huh? Oh– yeah,” You breathed out. “I just… remembered something.”

“What’s up?” 

And again, he looked at you like that. Eyes warm and gentle on yours, his smile small yet so, so fond. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand had reached forward, near your waist to steady you from bumping into the sharp corner of the counter. Your cheeks immediately warmed up as you abruptly turned around. 

“N-nothing.”

–

After breakfast and getting ready, you headed out to the nearby outdoor market. It was a beautiful, yet bustling sight. People were in every corner, every stall, buying various things like seashell necklaces and cute jellyfish lamps. Your eyes were practically shimmering and you quickly grabbed hold of Eric’s wrist to pull him along.

At the first stall, a woman was selling beautiful leis. You gasped, picking one up and showing your best friend. He grinned and nodded expectantly.

“What’re you waiting for? Put it on,” He joked. 

You laughed and shook your head. Instead, you stepped forward, looping the pink and purple flower garland around his neck. You could hear the small intake from his lips as he looked down at you, eyes wide. Maybe, you were a bit too close to him. But, you didn’t think much of it as you continued to adjust it and admire the colors that complimented him perfectly.

Well, up until a child had run past, bumping into you and causing you to fall straight into Eric’s arms.

“Oh, I–” You gulped, feeling a warm hand close around your waist, holding you steady. 

“Sorry,” He muttered nervously, his cheeks flushing.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, peering up at him, still pressed against his body. He gazed back and his eyes began to slowly trail down to your… With a cough, you pulled away, refusing to look him in the eye. His hands were always gentle.

Again, you took his wrist to lead him somewhere else. But that was when you felt him pull away. For a second, you thought you might have lost him in the crowd, but he was still right behind you. Instead, his hand closed around yours, his fingers—rough from playing baseball in his free time—intertwining firmly around. You tried to ignore the quickening pace of your heart.

“So you don’t get lost,” He teased.

“You’re the one who gets lost the most,” You retorted, your voice slightly shaky.

At the next stall, there were plushies displayed for sale. Some were badly sewn, like the cat missing a buttoned eye. But some were particularly cute, especially the white bunny keychain, sitting on one of the shelves. 

“Hey,” You mumbled, approaching it. Both ears were intact and upright. “This reminds me of…”

Clutching the bunny plushie with the price tag attached to its ear close to your chest, you looked at Eric with a pleading look. 

“Please,” You complained. “Let me buy it. I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Hm?”

Eric looked at you with narrowed eyes, switching his gaze from you to the plushie. And then he sighed, taking it from your hand. With hopeful eyes, you watched as he walked to the shelf and put it back. And just like that, all your dreams were crushed.

“C’mon.” He urged you away. “That’s dumb.”

“But you know my favorite animals are bunnies,” You whined. But still, you followed him out of the store.

About a week later, he showed up at your door. It was your birthday after all so when your eyes landed on the small present box in your hands, you smiled with delight. He tilted his head with a shy smile.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered, leaning in to pull you into a hug. “I know this isn’t great, but I tried my best.” He smiled at you sheepishly.

When you opened it, sitting inside was a small plushie. Of a bunny. It was so, so badly made, the stitches mangled and the ears practically falling off. But it was so… Eric.

“Is that why you didn’t let me buy the other one?” You questioned, clutching it close to your chest protectively.

He nodded with a completely serious expression. “I didn’t need unnecessary competition.”

And despite rolling your eyes at his comment, you found yourself carefully placing the plushie right at your bedside so it was the first thing you saw when you woke up. 

And to this day, you still have it.

But that’s just what friends do… you think.

Eric had read your mind and quickly, he was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the stall.

“My sewing skills could be better,” He said with an embarrassed look on his face. You laughed in response. Before you could even say anything else, he was reaching forward to clasp a necklace around your neck. He was so, so close that you could feel his breath across your lips and smell his scent which reminded you a lot like cotton candy. 

“When did you get this?” You whispered, looking down at it. It was a small seashell shaped like a heart.

“Few minutes ago.” He smiled. “But you didn’t notice.”

“I love it.” You grinned. And just like that, you hadn’t reached for his wrist this time, but straight for his hand. With fingers intertwined, the two of you walked down the rest of the market, smiling and laughing all throughout the sunset.

–

Another day had passed and the two of you had mostly stayed inside the beach house, due to the cloudy weather ruining the mood. It was fun nonetheless, watching movies and even playing board games. Which, Eric won all three of them for some reason. You simply call it luck.

Now, laying in your bed, you felt yourself grow drowsy over the ambient noise of the rain pattering on the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder. Sometimes, there would be a flash of light outside–lightning, but you were much too tired to really care.

Just as your eyes were about to shut close, you heard a knock on the door.

“Eric?” You whispered, your voice croaky from sleep.

The door creaked open, and there he was, dressed in a comfy t-shirt. You recognized it. The one that he had once let you borrow because you had spilled coffee all over yourself. It was warm and… well, it smelled just like him.

“What happened?” You frowned, sitting up. He stepped closer and if you looked closely, you could see the tinge of red on his cheeks.

“...you know,” He muttered.

You did know.

Your phone rang, startling you out of your sleep. Despite your initial grumpiness, you picked up when you realized it was your best friend.

“Eric?”

A deep breath from the other line. And then–

“Can you come over?”

You looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m… scared of thunderstorms.” You could even hear his voice tremble. And just like that, you were out the door, umbrella in hand. But the rain was so heavy that it managed to seep into your clothes and hair anyway, leaving you drenched by the time you reached his door.

At the sound of the doorbell, Eric flung the door open. You couldn’t even get a word in because he was pulling you in and he was throwing his arms around you, scrambling to hold you close, his hands grasping onto your shirt tightly. You smiled softly as you hugged him back, even if you were getting his clothes wet too.

“I missed you,” He whispered, tightening his hold. “So much.”

You laughed softly. “I’m right here. You saw me yesterday already, didn’t you?”

“I–” He grumbled, pulling away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as he searched your eyes with a deeper meaning behind them. “I always miss you.”

That’s not… how friends act, do they?

“Want to sleep here?” You patted the spot next to you, even bringing an extra pillow and adjusting the blankets.

“Gladly,” He grinned. “That’s why I came here in the first place.” In only a matter of seconds, he was climbing into bed with you. The two of you never… slept in the same bed together but it felt so natural with the way your arms wrapped around him and he had snuggled up to your chest.

This is definitely how friends act.

–

The next day was boring. You all had planned it to be the day where each one of you would go off and do whatever separately as a way to individually relax. But, you realized just how much Eric was a part of your life. Wandering the gardens, you found yourself thinking of his stupid puns and his even stupider smile. Truth be told, Eric was always with you. The two of you never went a week without seeing each other. Any much longer than that and Eric was clinging and hugging you for the whole day, saying he needed to “recharge.”

Finally, in the evening, you saw Eric again. He was wearing a comfy, zip-up jacket since the evenings tended to get chilly and his hair was adorably messy. Adorably? Since when did you think that?

“Want to sit with me?” He leaned against the doorway. “My room has a better view.” You nodded brightly and followed him. 

You had never noticed just how beautiful the scenery actually was from his room. Your room mostly pointed towards the various palm trees. But his room, with its wide and tall window that overlooked the whole beach, was different. The two of you sat together on the bed, knees drawn up to your chests, as you observed the constant motion of the ocean water moving back and forth, creating bubbles with it. The night sky was dark, yet it sparkled with twinkling stars dotted across it. 

When you looked over, you saw Eric, looking out the window too. The moonlight shone perfectly on his face, accentuating each of his handsome features. His kind eyes, the slope of his nose, his plush lips that shaped into a soft smile.

He was always handsome. You always knew that. But something about this moment, right now, left your eyes widening, cheeks flushing, and your heart pounding. 

“What do you mean you lost the grocery list?” You whined. “Juyeon wanted this huge Christmas feast. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”

Eric grimaced. “I swear, my dog ate it.”

“You don’t even have a dog.”

The two of you continued to bicker, walking down the numerous aisles of the grocery store, trying to figure out the ingredients to make Juyeon’s favorite food until an elderly couple stopped you in your tracks.

“Aren’t you both an adorable couple?” The woman cooed.

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Eric, only to find that he didn’t share the same shocked expression. He was smiling almost… shyly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Oh, just look at the way he looks at them,” The man pointed out before turning to his wife. “Just like I had looked at you all those years ago.”

The woman laughed bashfully, batting him away. Then, she turned back to Eric with kind eyes.

“You must love them a lot.” She said with a kind smile.

You were about to jump in and refute, explain everything was all a lie, that you both were just really good friends up until��

“I do,” Eric replied. He looked at you with that same look that he’d been looking at you for ages now. The softening gaze and slight tug of his lips… it was like you were the flame to his wooden match. “I truly do.”

That’s not how friends act.

You swallowed thickly, all words caught in your throat for a moment. That particular moment often flitted past your mind briefly because you thought that he was just playing along. But now that you think about it…

“Did you mean it?” You finally whispered.

He turned to you with a confused smile. “Mean what?”

“That you… love me.” You studied his face for an answer and you had hoped that you wouldn’t find one—that you wouldn’t see the absolutely smitten look on his face that would further complicate your friendship that’s already lasted decades. But you saw it. The smitten look, right there in front of you. It was there and it gave you all the answers that you needed.

He was quiet, watching you with a tender look in his eyes. And then he leaned to the side, bumping his shoulder with yours lightly.

“I meant it,” He replied, smiling to himself shyly. You gazed at him in shock. “But...” He turned to you, his smile faltering slightly. “However you want to interpret that is up to you.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head so that it was resting on his shoulder. It was odd but not that surprising how well it fits in the crook of his neck, almost as if you were always meant to be there. You didn’t say anything right away, instead, choosing to watch the waves roll, over and over. But everything reminded you of the man sitting right beside you. The bright stars in the sky were just like the mischievous twinkle that he would have in his eyes before he would tackle you into a hug and the crystal clear water that flowed in and out on the sand was just like the steady pounding of your heartbeat whenever you caught sight of his pretty smile. 

“As friends or romantically?” You spoke, so quietly that Eric had to lean in even closer to hear you, his hair brushing against your forehead.

He hummed ambiguously. “Whatever you want.” But you could hear the slight tremor in his deep voice.

His words only further answered your question. No matter how hard he would try to make it so that it was all up to you, you could sense everything. The soft tone of his voice, his warm hand covering yours, and his calm breathing. You could sense his feelings. Each and every one of them, like his heart was beating directly through yours.

Slowly, the rustle of the palm trees and the natural sound of his slow breaths gently pulled you into a state of drowsiness. Shuffling so that your whole side was pressed up to his, you leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek into his warm shoulder. And gradually, your eyes closed, sleep overcoming you peacefully.

He smiled down at you, gently bringing you to lie down on the bed. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in snugly. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with so much warmth.

“Romantically,” He whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s always been romantically.”

–

You had woken up to a text from Juyeon. And yes, you have been sending pictures to him, mostly consisting of blurry selfies of you posing perfectly and Eric who wasn’t even looking at the camera, constantly distracted.

Stretching, you realized that you weren’t in your bed. You were in Eric’s bed. And just like that, all the memories came rushing back to you. Romantically or as friends? As friends or romantically? Whichever one was it?

Shaking your head, you opened the text.

Juyeon: did you do the last activity on the itinerary yet?

Juyeon: the beach party

And so there you were, dressed in one of your summer outfits, flowy and perfect for the weather. Eric was beside you, staring in awe at the scene. The two of you had never quite made it to the beach, being so preoccupied with other places to explore. But now that you were here, the sand soft under you and the sun setting in the background, you couldn’t help but smile dearly. You had waited excitedly for this moment really, as Juyeon had claimed that this was a surprise made by him and he had hired someone to set it up.

And set up it was. String lights and lanterns were scattered about, lighting up the scene. There were chairs set up, made to sit together and watch the calm ocean. And on the right, there was a speaker to play music.

“Well isn’t this pretty?” You mumbled, your mouth agape.

Eric smiled, turning to look right at you. “Very pretty.”

Wordlessly, he took your hand in his, leading you toward the lanterns. It wasn’t really a party anymore. You couldn’t help but think that this was actually a beach… a beach date.

You sat down in one of the chairs and you watched as Eric picked up his phone to put on music. Immediately, you recognized the song. 

“You Better Know?” You laughed, remembering all the times you and Eric had belted out Red Velvet songs after failing an exam to cope with the feeling of failure. It never really worked but it was fun either way. 

He shrugged with a charming smile. He began to dance slightly as he walked away to pick up seashells that were scattered across the beach. You watched silently, leaning forward as you let your eyes wander over your best friend. 

Eric truly no longer was the messy boy who scribbled outside the lines on coloring books or the boy who repeatedly tripped on the playground causing his knees to get scraped. He no longer was the boy who experienced constant voice cracks or who struggled in exams because he had overslept with dark circles under his eyes. 

Instead, he was a man with a deeper voice, broader shoulders, and a charming middle part in his hair as opposed to the disorderly, overgrown middle school hairstyle he always had. He was a man who had ditched the dark hoodies in his angsty teenager phase, instead opting for white, flowy button-up shirts that complimented his golden skin perfectly. He even reminded you of Prince Eric–ironically, enough–from The Little Mermaid.

Eric no longer was the boy that you simply were best friends with. He was a man who you have fallen in love with. And you had no idea for how long.

Standing up silently, you approached him. He looked up at you, giving you a soft smile, a beautiful white seashell in his hand.

“Here,” He said, taking your hand in his. He placed the shell in yours, gazing at you with so much affection that you felt a shudder all throughout your spine. “For you.”

You smiled, looking down at it. It was round, embellished with small ridges. It was perfect. The faint sound of the upbeat, song playing in the background as you looked up at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“Eric,” You started. “I have to tell you something.”

And for some reason, he had leaned forward, pressing a finger to your lips to shush you. You let out a muffled sound, gaping at him in bewilderment.

“Eric?”

“Let me speak first,” He whispered. 

You inhaled sharply…

“Romantically.”

…held your breath…

“My answer is romantically.”

… and exhaled shakily, processing his confession, one word at a time. But before you could, Eric was saying more.

“For the longest time, I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since I saw you back in elementary school. And mayhaps, I did mean that stupid ‘will you marry me?’ statement,” He chuckled. He reached forward taking your other hand in his, wrapping his fingers around. “Over time I… I tried to get over you. But, since you’re my best friend I couldn’t distance myself. So I accidentally fell in love.”

You felt your heart pound at his words, all of your memories rushing back in full force. It all had started to make sense. The acts of service when you weren’t feeling well, the soft looks when you were only laughing, the homemade gifts even though he claimed that he hated making things, and the… words. The specific word love.

“Eric, I…”

“Ah, wait,” He laughed. “This song.”

Red Flavor by Red Velvet. The classic, happy summer song. 

And suddenly, he reached forward, pulling you in by the waist. “Can I sing for you?”

You snorted, your cheeks flushing once you registered the warmth of his large hand on the small of your back. “This song?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, grinning. “This song.”

And before you could retort, he actually started singing, Swaying you from left to right, his arms continuously wrapped around you, his deep voice resonated through the cozy summer night, igniting each and every star one by one. He sang the pre-chorus, gazing at you with affection and well, love.

"I like you, it was love at first sight. I keep thinking of you." His lips pulled up into a soft smile as he sang, his voice husky and a great contrast to the higher-pitched voices of the actual song. You were enamored, your heart beating right against his chest as you watched him silently, watching as he sang so, so, gently. Only for you and for you only. “I want to go my own way.”

And then the chorus started with its fun beat and cheerful singing. You giggled, placing your hands on his chest, leaning forward to hide in his neck. 

“This song does not fit the moment right now,” You remarked, smiling against his skin. You could feel the vibration of his deep laugh as he held you closer, his hands stroking your sides gently.

“But at least it got the confession down. So, what’s your answer?”

You laughed, pulling away to look up at him lovingly. He smiled down at you, his eyes wandering over each of your features fondly.

“The very last line,” You replied. He had grown silent at that, listening to each of the lyrics, waiting for the end. And then–

What I like the most is you in the summer.

Eric widened his eyes and he looked down at you hopefully. “Really?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. “Not just like. Love.”

“Oh, wow,” He breathed out. And again, just like he had done all those other times, he brushed a piece of hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with sparks accompanying it. “God, I’m so in love,” He muttered. And just like that, the next song had started—Hear The Sea—playing softly in the background.

You laughed, “Did you just put on a whole Red Velvet playlist?”

“And what about it?” He grinned. “It’s summer.” And slowly, he pulled away, not before looping your hand in his. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close. To the calm singing and beautiful instrumental of the song, the two of you danced. Sometimes, either one of you would trip on the sand, causing an endeared laugh here and there. But mostly, the silence between you was filled with soft smiles and flushed cheeks.

Even though Eric no longer was the boy who ran around when it was summertime, he always would be the boy with the most beautiful smile. 

His eyes were bright on yours, watching you closely as the two of you swayed slowly to the music. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this for?” He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling hot all over. 

“So long,” He continued. “I’ve always longed to dance with you.”

You smiled. “And what else?”

“Hold you.”

You hummed. “You always loved doing that.”

But then his eyes darkened on you for a moment. “And… kiss you. Though I haven’t done that one yet.”

Your breath hitched, your dancing coming to a halt. “Then do it.”

He gazed at you softly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush.”

“Think for yourself.” You giggled. “How long exactly have you waited to kiss me?”

He paused, and both of his hands came down to grasp your waist this time. “Years. I’ve waited for years.” He looked at you shyly, his eyes adorably hopeful and loving.

“Then act.”

And so he did.

Almost aggravatingly slow–as if to make sure he really had your consent–he tilted his head and he softly placed his lips on yours. Shutting your eyes closed, you allowed yourself to get lost in the addictive feeling, the soft pull of your lips and the gentle grasping of your waist as he pulled you so close that your bodies were flush against each other. 

It was like everything was drowned out. In your ears, you could no longer hear the crash of the waves on the shore. Instead, you could only make out the quiet, satisfied hum that escaped Eric’s parted lips. You couldn’t feel the summer breeze blowing against your skin, you could only feel the warmth of the palm of his hand as it came to cup your jaw, tipping your head slightly so he could kiss further.

It was a soft kiss, filled with sparks that would set off fireworks in the very pit of your stomach. Slow movements without fervor, as it was just Eric, kissing you like he must have been dreaming of doing all these years. The hand on your waist fit perfectly around you and so you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, stepping closer. Eric huffed out a quiet laugh as he blindly guided your hand to where his heart was where you could only feel it beat and beat and beat.

And with a tap against his chest, the two of you broke apart, lips red and slightly swollen. You stared at him in silence before bursting out into shy laughter, lunging forward to hide your face in his shoulder. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you once again, but this time with a different feeling. Love, maybe. 

“Who knew that this trip would force me to confess?” He wondered to himself.

“Good.” You scowled. “You took too long.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “But look who finally figured out their feelings on this very trip?”

Your cheeks flushed and you playfully shoved him. “Stop it.”

“Say it.”

You frowned in confusion. “Say what?”

“You know what I mean,” He teased. “I want to hear you.”

You gulped and looked down at the sand. “That I… love you?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. “I love you too.”

And then he pulled something out of his pocket. When he unfolded it, he placed it in your hand which was still clutching onto the seashell. You looked down, only to realize that it was another red, paper heart. Written in neater, more legible handwriting this time, were the words, 

“Will you date me?”

“Ah,” You breathed out. “So you finally get the words right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes or no, my beautiful?”

“My,” You laughed. “If you use my, then that means I’m already yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” His eyes sparkled.

“Then my answer is yes,” You whispered before smiling and leaning up to peck his lips once again. He was about to pull you into a full-fledged kiss but you giggled before running away, kicking behind flurries of sand. Eric groaned and he began to chase you down the shoreline.

“You can’t do that after you’ve just kissed me!” He complained. 

“Too bad.” You stuck your tongue out. His frown turned into a fond smile as he laughed and ran after you.

You didn’t know exactly when, but the two of you somehow ended up in the water–clothes that weren’t meant for swimming, thoroughly soaked.

He looked at you with a loving smile as he waded over to you, his hair slightly damp from your splashing. Huffing out a fond laugh, he quickly trapped you into his embrace. And then he turned you, his back to the rest of the ocean so that you wouldn’t be hit by the waves. Smiling at you, he pulled you back in, his lips, wet from the water, pressing onto yours.

“You taste like the ocean.” You grinned after pulling away.

“And you taste delicious.”

“Oh my.” You gasped. “Why are you flirty now? I only know the clumsy, foolish Eric.”

“There’s much more to learn about me,” He whispered, grinning widely as he reached a hand out of the water to brush away a strand that had stuck to your forehead. “Just you wait. I’d even write a whole novel for you. And you know I failed literature class.”

You laughed, clearly remembering the defeated look on his face when he had checked his exam grade. 

“I learned something already,” You quietly said. A particularly harsh wave almost shoved you both off your feet, but Eric was quick to steady you with his hands. Always so gentle and firm.

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re an excellent kisser.”

He laughed adorably before pressing a kiss to your lips again. 

“And I knew something already,” He uttered. "For a while now."

“Hm?” A smile grew on your face.

“That I’m so–” A peck on your cheek. “So…” Another on the tip of your nose. “So in love with you.” And finally, a kiss on your lips. 

The truth is, that neither of you cared if the ocean was trying its best to knock you both over. Your blooming love and soft, adoring smiles in between kisses were steady enough to hold you up.

Because that’s just how friends act. Or more specifically, how two best friends who fell in love with each other act.

–

You sent one thing to Juyeon on the last day of your trip. Attached, was a selfie of the two of you, kissing softly, the ocean and the moon in the background. 

Juyeon immediately opened it. And then the bubbles of his texting appeared and disappeared, for over three minutes. When his message appeared, you laughed loudly at the one word that appeared on the screen.

Juyeon: finally 

[meowsgirldrawing]

What is your obey me mc’s relationship with each of the kids if you don’t mind me asking

Of course!

Varya: (Mammon's Kiddo)

MC and Varya are quite close as Varya is their eldest and first half demon/half human child. Similar to Mammon, Varya usually acts aloof to MC's parental affections- acting unaffected by kisses and hugs but deep down she craves to go back to the moments before she had younger siblings come along and take MC's attention away. Now, MC always make sures to have some time saved for the two to bond as parent and their eldest.

Admittadly however, their relationship did get strained for a short time in Varya's life as she felt she was responsible for her younger siblings' actions growing up. It wasn't until she got older did she and MC decide to work soley on that and allow time for Varya to not feel the oldest and instead like her first child again.

Rhomb(Leviathan's guppy)

Rhomb and MC are close themselves as Rhomb was always the kid that stuck near their or Leviathan's leg whenever they met new people. If a situation were to happen that involved threats towards MC's life, Rhomb is usually one of the first kids to be at their side, growling and scaring off any danger posed to his human parent. Besides some of the brothers, Rhomb is very open with MC, always coming to them if he has an issue or thoughts that won't cease on plaguing him.

MC has at moments to remind Rhomb that he doesn't have to be the sole protector of their family, that they and his fathers are always there to protect each other and the other kids when needed. Similar to Leviathan, MC's also had to show Rhomb they will always love him just as much as his siblings. It was mostly when he was young and got jealous of the attention his siblings received but it has sparked at times so MC cuts in times to spend with him even as he breaches past his early 20s. Out of all the kids, Rhomb is the only one to always remember that they have a human parent out of all 8, and proceeds to get swatted at by MC themselves because his momma/parent isn't weak! (Rhomb- Sorry, Mom)

Lilith the 2nd (Lilly) (Lucifer's pride and joy)

While the two love each other very much and have shown each other in each and every way, Lilith is honestly more close to Lucifer than MC in most ways. However, Lilith is no stranger to coming to her mother/parent when worried about anything personal in her life. Her human side allows her to speak her more emotional thoughts and feelings so MC often encourages her to speak on behalf of Diavolo's plan of uniting the 3 Realms together, which she is an active part of already.

MC to Lillith is like the fun parent to Lucifer's strict parent duo. Lucifer encourages her to stay on top of her grades, a good reputation as his daughter and one of the eldest children of the Avatars of Sin, while MC reminds her to cut loose and let herself be 21 every now and then. Has backfired at some turns of Lilith coming home tipsy with Quinn and the twins (Ryder and River) and getting a large lecture from Lucifer while MC shoots thumbs up behind his back. Overall, very sweet and fun relationship!

Quinn (Asmodeus's lovechild)

Quinn loves his parents, like dearly, but he's kind of a loner compared to his siblings. Ironic when being the son of lust who loves being around people just about 24/7, but it's true. Nothing wrong on his parents' part no, he's just made that way. I would say his relationship with both Asmo and MC is just about the same. Asmo is more hyper and outright affectionate while MC is chiller and more down to earth which he matches with in energy more.

Fun fact: When Quinn expressed his want to get a motorcycle, Asmo was the one freaking out, worried about the dangers while MC simply asked if he was gonna watch himself on it. Quinn thought about it and nodded, thus MC shrugged and said, 'Alright, but if I see you doing anything reckless, I don't care if yer 21, I'mma take it away faster than you can say yer name'. All while Asmo stared at his partner in horror. Yeah, MC has a chill and relaxed relationship with Quinn, possibly because he acts the most mature out of all the kids most times. And I mean most times, MC laughs and calls him an idiot when he does stupid shit but makes sure he's alright like their supposed to.

Libbey (Satan's spawn/not spawn)

When Liberty was a kid, she used to have the worst temper tantrums out of all the kids, enough so if took both MC and Satan to calm her down. To Libbey, MC and Satan keep similar attitudes when it came to raising her. Calm and collected, soothing but not afraid to put their foot down with their hellspawn. Thankfully the young 21 year old managed to learn how to keep her temper in check, but grew anxiety during the years.

Again, Satan and MC have just about the same amount of closeness to her so she's not really 'closer' to just one. She goes to Satan if she's wanting to delve into her book reading and studies, but at the same time, goes to MC when she needs an utter break from the chaos her siblings bring. MC's use to the anxiety talk- having multiple husbands and kids with vast variances of anxiety levels, it's easy to tell when the girl needs a zone out break and lets her get covered in motherly/parental love as the girl destresses with cuddles and a movie night. MC's that parent you go to when life gets too rough and helps with distractions galore!

Ryder and River (Belphie's calfs)

For Ryder, he's also more of a loner to anyone but River. Him and MC tease and poke fun at each other all the time, the 19 year old constantly smacking them with his tail and running as his favorite parent runs after him with a 'son of a b****!' That kid that calls his parents the weirdest names and wonders why people look terrified. (I literally call my mom woman as a joke and seriously get concerned when people's response is 'how are you not dead yet?') While he can poke fun at his mom/parent, no one is allowed to beside his siblings. He once jokingly said his mom is so stupid the one time they accidentally pronounced something wrong at a meeting (MC's the human ambassador in my AU) and when a lesser demon laughed and agreed with him, he immediately dragged the fucker out of the room for a 'talk'. No one questioned him besides Lucifer when he got back and all he said was 'taking care of a stain he saw on the rug'.

For River, he's definitely really close to MC. He yells 'MOM!' anytime they get back and hugs them like he hasn't seen them in so long. It's been 5 minutes. Anyhow, he's the kid that when he saw his dads kiss MC, he would go up, hug them and say 'My mom! Get yer own! >:(' Does that the most to Belphie, the least to Beel. He likes Papa Beel. Honestly scared MC the most growing up. They would find him on the ceiling, the stairway railing hanging by his tail, outside the window rim of the 3rd story, even on the top of the fridge just giggling at their screech. But MC loves their weird, demon child, enough so that they aren't surprised anymore to be globbed into a hug the moment they get home from a trip to the human world. But don't worry, he's always gentle :).

(They act the same to Belphie ngl, Ryder outright calls him curse words with a grin while River is most definitely rougher in his affection)

Frankie (Beel's little bee)

Ah, the youngest little hybrid of the group. And MC sometimes treats her as such without even realizing it. She's always excited to see her momma, has the biggest grin the moment she hears their voice. While she adores the one-on-one time she gets with her mom, she tends to feel bad after a while of it and turns to inviting the rest of her sisters to join. Besides, she already goes to the human world enough with her mom, why would she need even more time in Devildom? Since MC's the human ambassador of Diavolo's plans, they tend to go back and forth alot to the human realm and Frankie tends to follow them along. Perhaps it's because of her more human side, but she feels at home there and even better when she and MC can go do more tame activities together that are slightly more dangerous in Devildom, like hiking, arcades, food places, anywhere.

Frankie's probably the kid that sticks with their mother the most of all of MC's kids, mostly because she's 16 and vastly weaker than her siblings, so its not unusual to see the two wondering around together, clasping hands because Frankie demands it.

Funfact: A kid around Frankie's age from the human realm teased her for still wanting to hold her parent's hand while 16, and when MC wasn't looking, Frankie allowed the side her father gave her to show off. MC turned back around a few minutes later to find a smiling Frankie and the heckler gone.

MC overall has a great relationship with all their kids, some a little more distance than others but if they were able to wrangle a group of 7 demon lords to have better communication and whatnot, I'm sure they can deal with anything their kids throw at them. Also, in my AU, MC is the oldest of her siblings herself so she's used to a full and big house already.

Thank you for the question! ^^💕

[yahoodarling]

Ayato/Thoma x SelfAware Gn Reader part 1 6.5k words

General warnings (not all themes are present in this post): yandere themes, mentions of suicide(in theory and enacted) and major spoilers for Inazumas quest line including character stories. 

Author note here: I understand the narrative style of this fic is going to be a little bit different than usual. This fic highlights a lot of internal thoughts and justifications so the description of things isn't as ‘fluid’ as normal. I hope you enjoy it anyway.  I want to post this as a ‘teaser’ of sorts but mainly to see how it gets received. The next update would be the completed fic. I see it potentially reaching 17/20k words but if people don't like the style then i'll just have to see. 

It's disgusting. It is discomfort incarnate to have such foresight into the fate of the world and yet be bound to its own laws of destiny, especially when what you were sure was to take place is altered. You no longer have any ground of understanding except the uncanny feeling that things are not as they should be, to be so similar and yet be so changed. You knew things will end up alright, as long as you do not interfere then Inazumas political warfare will reach a peaceful end and it did. You watched, noted those ‘special’ to the world, those who have a story, a life, a reason and you took the responsibility of not getting involved and it worked. You became an npc, avoided any confrontation with those deemed ‘special’, avoided any influence in the ‘plot’, watched as a hero came, a nation saved and a people newly united. It worked. Your foresight was correct yet… things changed. With no base to rely on, how were you to know what the ‘future’ must be, how were you to know what to avoid, who to avoid and what minor choice may change a future?

The hero has left, gone to Sumeru you guess, no, you know, you know the hero leaves for a new nation but so has your foresight and with that comes the change.

The one day gathering supplies, one day speaking to a fellow npc to fill some sort of social need, one day being in the ‘dark’ and you've caused a spark.

“Oh Aoi, good morning to you!”

He didn't speak to you, it was directed to the npc shopkeep you were chatting with and yet it grabbed your attention. Thoma is ‘special’, Thoma is relevant and so he must be avoided and you failed. 

Thoma spoke of how lovely the nights have been, of the soft whistles of sea, even to npcs Thoma was a gentleman starting conversation. He then noted how ‘unique’ your eyes are, a depth to them hes never seen before. That comment frightened you, made you rush to leave, to stop the change. Quickly you felt a hand on your shoulder,

“Please excuse my rudeness but how about we have a stroll? I know its unfair of me to ask a stranger such a thing but… you remind me of a home away from home, if you would grant me such a pleasure that is.” he ended with a chuckle.

You have been so realistic up to this point, so good at avoiding ‘change’ but you have a heart and knew all too well that whatever feeling Thoma is experiencing is something important to him. You have a heart and so you accept.

A single light hearted stroll became a weekly meet at the shop front, ‘coincidentally’, which became a personal relationship which became a friend. It's alright though, Thomas is a social guy, he's close with many npcs who never impacted the ‘plot’, you can be one such npc, that's fine. Change is fine. 

It's not fine. Meeting with Thoma you eventually met with other ‘special’ individuals you knew by name before they even knew of your existence. It's a weird feeling to know a person before getting to meet them, all the private details, their worries, their joys and yet to remain oblivious.

“A formal greeting from the Kamisato Clan, I am glad to see Thoma has a new friend. Do treat him well, sadly I must make short of this meet.” and the man who is most likely the most influential to whatever ‘plot’ is to come of Inazuma greeted. Kamisato Ayato was amongst your top ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ list other than the archon herself and yet somehow naive bliss and a VERY convincing plea(almost suspiciously good) from Thoma to have lunch by the beaches near the residence of the Kamisato Clan lead you right into his ‘life’.

You have no ‘life’, you are meant to have no ‘life’, no value or effect and yet by each interaction with those deemed ‘special’ by the world your plans crumble.

Ayato then promptly bowed and walked out the residents gate, a body guard joining him as he started his track along the path you had just taken towards the city.

“ah right, he has that meeting. A pity, if his schedule was more open id have asked for him to join us.” Thoma turned to you with a quick hesitant smile, “he's really not as imposing as you may think he is. ah well… maybe he still is but just in a different way then what the people expect. If you'd like, maybe I could let you know when my lord and I are doing something casual, if you would be comfortable with that of course.  I forget just how intimidating the idea of being casual with a clan lord can be to someone who doesn't know him as well as I do.”

“Thank you for the offer Thoma but i'd like it if we just kept it the two of us. You are right, the idea is a little frightening right now.” 

You knew what Thoma meant by all that, he means that Ayato is a genuine person underneath his political mask. Ayato is a brother, a friend and a man caring for those deemed under his protection and to those lucky enough to see under his mask they may be met with the unlucky fate of becoming a target to his mischievous nature. 

Still, the idea of getting involved with someone so influential is nauseating even if just for something ‘casual' as Thoma has in mind. In truth you shouldn't even be here, here near the Kamisato Clan, here near someone like Thoma, here in Teyvat in the first place. You shouldn't be here. 

“I see, that's expected haha.” Thoma smiled at you wildly, reaffirmed at the idea of something going on in his mind (if only knowing what said idea was was as easy as opening a character profile and reading a line directly out of his thoughts) “Well we are still here for a good time. Let me get that blanket and pillows for the beach quickly. You are going to love it!” Thoma quickly skipped into the yard of the clans walls while you waited outside and watched as the npcs you recognized pattered around the area. 

That one person at the commission board, you had forgotten his name by now after fulfilling Inazumas reputation months ago. There was the old lady sweeping in the yard, what did she comment on again? … … it never came to you, it was all forgetful anyway. 

A sudden feeling of envy hit you. They were forgetful, oh how lovely that would be to ease your nerves. To know that each day the sun rises you can follow your coded script without fear of altering the fate of the very universe by the time the sun goes down. Wow, you've messed up haha. 

Thoma returned quickly as promised, a blanket and two pillows clutched under one arm as a basket was held in another but probably most heavy of all was the giant smile on his face, wrinkling his cheeks with a sense of genuine happiness. No wonder you messed up, it would be impossible to say no to him. It's all his fault and yet you felt you could never put the blame on him. 

“Well, sorry to have starved you of your lunch for so long, we are nearly there and I can't wait to see your reaction.” Thoma then lead you through a short path of the surrounding forest and down towards the beach. 

Perhaps your recollection of the game isn't accurate, you could have sworn a group of enemies should be nearby the beach here but all along the coast line was just gentle laps of the waves apon white sand. Thoma layed out the blanket with little worries evident on his face, he placed both pillows down then removed his shoes, each unclad foot stepping on the blanket to avoid spreading sand all over it, you promptly did the same, sitting down and placing the basket you had down next to his. 

“This place is lovely at any time of the day but especially during sunset, I would have asked for you to join then but I feared it would make things inconvenient for you but still, spending the afternoon here is just lovely nonetheless.” he criss crossed his legs and then beamed at you.

“Come on then, don't keep me waiting, i'm dying to try out one of your baked goods.”

Right. One of the first things you did when you realized you were now living in the game was (panic, cry, internally scream in confusion as to how this has happened and if your world will keep on going and you aren't in it) actually to set up an identity for yourself. Running around and claiming to have come from another world and how you somehow know very personal details of select people and the future fate of the nation would lead to either your banishment or a future altered and possibly worse where peace was not founded, the resistance killed off and the entire plot of the ‘game’ thrown off. Not a good idea. Instead you tried to incorporate yourself into the ‘npc lifestyle’ as quickly as possible. You came up with a backstory that befit this world, you are a failed Sumeru scholar who has come to Inazuma to lead a new simple life outside of your failures. (In truth you stole inspiration for the backstory from some npc you think was on Sangonomiya Island.) It makes sense, people you tell won't  ask you more about your past details in fear of being insensitive and Sumeru scholars are sometimes brought to Inazuma. You explained your (fake) predicament to a shop vendor who referenced you to the local baker who took you on. Now you bake goods behind the walls, don't face any customers and have a very npc-like backstory and job. You set yourself up well which was helped by all the knowledge you have of this world. Too bad you messed up all that work and are sat in front of someone ‘special’. Maybe you can salvage the situation, maybe it's not as bad as you think it is, you only have ‘maybes’ which isn't helpful since you had a ‘definitely’ to rely on before Inazumas ‘quest’ was finished by the hero. 

You just smile at Thoma and reach your basket. “I made some simple bread rolls and brought some butter and jam but I also made some black sesame biscuits before leaving work. Thanks again for convincing my boss to let me off early today, things get busy there.”

“Not a problem, I don't often take days off either but I think I just needed a break today and imagined it would be a nice chance to get to know you more. How about you pass me one of your rolls in exchange for a serving of okonomiyaki? Sorry it's probably cold by now but should still be good.” He reached into his basket taking out some wooden containers as well as some cloths, likely for cleaning any spillages, and handed you one with you exchanging and giving him a roll and butter from your pack. 

You both nibbled at each other's creations, the bread rolls were still slightly warm on the inside since you had baked them before leaving, which Thoma commented on how lovely it is with the butter. The okonomiyaki you took pieces out of was cold but packed with various spices and toppings which really highlighted Thomas skills. 

“I just love that we can do this!” Thoma announced after his last bite. “I love getting to make and share things with friends, it's touching the combined effort put into it as well as the delicious outcome we get to enjoy. Haha, my lord and I do a similar thing but its outcome is not as enjoyable as warmed bread and butter, if anything it's concerning haha. Remember how earlier I said how he can be a little intimidating, our little cook outs are one such example. I really have to steel myself for those.” he chuckled and then leaned down on his elbows.

Once again, what he's trying to explain is something you already know of but need to act oblivious to. You have to convince yourself to be unaware and yet need to be aware enough to avoid ‘changing’ anything, this task has grown rather wearing but is essential to keep up your act. 

“Oh? How could cooking together turn out so threatening? You two are close though.”

He laughed

“It's because we are close that he feels he can torment me with his cooking. I swear, i'm surprised i haven't kneeled over and died yet. Worst part is he knows its tomenting, it's the best part to him! Agh- i've had so many of my own treats i've made be ruined by whatever his plan is. Haha, its amusing to look back on but just so daunting in the moment. When I said we could do something ‘casual’ with him I do not mean having one of these cook outs haha, I could never subject you to that.” 

The nature of the conversation stayed light hearted, you both exchanging from your baskets while sharing stories or light hearted moments, you had altered your side of things a little, you spoke truth of personal events but under the filter to fit with your backstory, that way lies couldn't catch up with you or forgetting lots of little made up details. The outing was rather pressuring in concept, so much could go wrong since you are involved, but in reality it was very nice. You had kept yourself back a lot when it comes to building relationships with the people around you in fear of your influence potentially changing something important but you are still human and still have social needs but even people like your boss, coworkers and the shop vendors you chat with in passing never fit what it meant to have a friend, to have someone to sit next to and simply have a good time with. 

Maybe you've been in this world for too long, you fear you may slip into making a ‘normal’ life here now that you've had a taste of what it means to ‘live’.

The sun started moving, waves became more rash upon the shore and the signs of the afternoon turning to evening became evident. You started packing up your basket and containers, lightly chatting on with Thoma about the seaside. To the side you heard footsteps and Thoma sat himself up straight to look at the oncomer. 

“Oh! Done with the meeting my lord?”

Your hand slipped in fright, the container lid clattering as you tried to put it with its matching box. Shit, why is he here? Shouldn't Ayato be too busy? Isn't that one of his whole character points? Not once was ‘strolls on the beach’ mentioned in any of his character lines. You looked up and smiled at him in greeting, your face tugged up tensely and trying very hard to look at ease. You decided it would be easier to let Thoma handle him and just got back to packing your things away. 

“Good evening to you too,” he chuckled softly and shifted his gloves, “the meet is done without any problems. When I got back home I wondered if you were still out here, seems I was right. I can now also fix a prominent mistake of mine.”

Even though you tried your hardest to avoid eye contact and look busy it's not like you had mountains to put away, you were left empty handed with a pair of well polished shoes in front of you, their sheen contrasted with the speaks of sand now defiling them. You took a breath in and looked up properly to meet his gaze. 

“I do apologize for being so rash earlier, I would have liked a proper introduction. As you can surmise i am Ayato, Thoma has mentioned of you before and I am glad to have the honor of meeting you in person.” he smiled in greeting, no doubt he would have offered a hand or a bow if you both were at the same height but for now a smile would do. 

“Right, it is truly an honour Lord Ayato. Thank you for extending your welcome to me.” you bowed slightly.

He laughed slightly, deeply amused. 

“Do just call me Ayato in private like this and last I recall, yes my property is in the area but that doesn't warrant me the entire beach side. In truth I have not welcomed you at all.” 

Thoma sighed slightly, “My lord please don't tease them so readily, I would like to eventually re invite them here but I can't do that if you've scared them away.”

“Of course, maybe then I can truly offer my welcome and they may join us to tea in the confines of the clan.”

Thoma sighed again at the slight continuation of Ayato's mischief. You took the opportunity of their exchange as an opening and stood up.

“Thank you for the food today Thoma and for bringing me to such a lovely place. I'll get going before it gets too late.”

“Oh, let me walk you back then.”

You shook your head in defiance, “No need, I know the way and it doesn't make sense for you to walk all the way just to have to return. Bringing me here was amazing in itself.”

You turned to Ayato and bowed again, less in respect and more so to keep away from eye contact. 

“Thank you again Lord Ayato. Stay well.” and quickly you make your way off the sands of the beach and towards the trek back home into the outer city. 

Thoma and Ayato stayed still, simply watching you go in silence until you were out of eyesight. It was Ayato that broke the silence.

“You are sure they do not carry any ill intent?” he said monotonously, still looking at the spot you disappeared to.

“I am sure. They are a decent person and I double checked, they don't have a past linked to any organization. Sure they are rather anxious, I see it often, a little skittish at times and slightly paranoid but it's not at the prospect of the clan. Haha, if you've taught me anything it's to be aware of people's intentions, if anything they are trying to run away rather than to get close. I can assure you, they don't have an agenda against the clan.”

Ayato breathed out, then turned himself to properly look at Thoma, his face relieved. “If that's your judgment it must be true then.”

…

An odd moment of silence spread between the two of them on the beach, both looking out as the sky took on warmer hues of yellow and orange clashing with its deeper blues. 

“You've been coming here a lot more recently and to have invited a friend here as well, has your mind been on your homeland?”

Thoma chuckled and leaned back out on the blanket, now dusted with sand and corners crinkled after the day's events, “I have. Thinking about the mountains of Mondstadt and all the memories just out there across the ocean. It's not in a sad sense, not at all, it's just that recently-,” he paused, looking away from the ocean and down to his lap, slightly gnawing on his lip in thought, “recently i've felt more… connected with myself. It's a nice feeling if not slightly concerning. I feel i'm getting to know myself better but it also just clearly shows how much i have yet to discover.” He sighed, closed his eyes and fully laid down on his back. 

Ayato looked down on his friend, doing as he does best and figuring out just what was going on in his mind, his feelings, the reasons for such feelings and the potential catalysts that brought them about. He kneeled down onto the blanket beside his friend, form straight from a lifetime of practice. 

“Does your new friend have anything to do with it?” he asks only to be met with silence, Ayato doesn't need an answer, he already knows it's true but just why that is so is still unknown.

“It isn't that you have fallen for them have you? I didn't think of you as one for love to occur after a reasonably short time.”

Thoma opened his eyes languidly and responded this time.

“I don't think it is love. Not yet but… i'd say i've definitely fallen for them haha, in whatever way that is i'm not sure but it feels… unbridled in nature.” he closed his eyes once more and shook his head at his own emotions. He tugged on a smile and relieved himself of his weighing thoughts, “So i'd appreciate it if you don't chase them away okay? I look forward to figuring out what's going on with both myself and with them.”

Ayato nodded wordlessly, not needing to disturb the quiet with a response.

…

“Ayato, did you notice the look in their eyes? It truly just- it just instantly made me feel like i was reliving my home town but also… not. It was familiar but also so foreign.”

“I hadn't gotten a good look at them in truth. They seemed rather determined in keeping their eyesight on anything but me.”

Thoma nodded in acknowledgement, “Makes sense. I do hope they warm up to the idea of the three of us doing something together eventually. Haha, once they've settled their nerves they are very comforting to talk with, I think you'd like them.”

Comfortable silence stretched along the two, the shades of yellow and orange in the sky deepening to reds and purples. 

In time Ayato stood up, no doubt with the intent of work to finish. He turned to leave before side glancing at Thoma. 

“The nobushi that often occupy these beaches, you've disposed of them correct?”

“Did it just this morning to make sure the beach was safe for today as well as to clear out the threat they bring.”

Ayato sighed in annoyance. 

“I still can't understand how those ruffians believe they outwit us, thinking being close to the clan means they may spot our vulnerabilities.” he shook his head slightly, like the ‘danger’ the oathless samurai possessed was nothing but a pesky fly. 

He then made his way back to the clan home leaving Thoma to steep in his own thoughts. 

It was after this interaction that you decided to cut things down. At first you imagined Thoma to be the safest ‘special’ person to come across, given how social he is and loved by many you could become a face in the crowd while also tending to your social needs and appeasing Thoma who, and you still wonder why, wanted to get closer to you. Following the path you've taken recently, of course you were wrong, infact Thoma should have been on that list of ‘DO NOT ENGAGE’ for the very reason you thought it was safe to, he's social. Very quickly you had realized in your time meeting with him that he would smile and wave to many walking by, one such instance was panic inducing when you noticed Yoimiya come over to greet him. Before she had fully skipped up to the both of you you had promptly dismissed yourself and ran back to the confines of your walls to avoid meeting someone so ‘special’. 

This was Thomas' problem, he is the network that is connected to so many ‘characters’ that by staying by his side means undoubtedly meeting with the others. Today's incident was clearly that, you met Ayato, you were right there at the clan bordering the line of stepping into the grounds of one of the most impactful places of Inazuma and it was Thoma that had convinced you to do so. You had been too lenient on your rules recently, too selfish. You don't follow these rules you've written up for yourself because you want to but because you know it's for the better of the future and altering such a future because you can't stay inline is selfish to every being in Teyvat that could possibly be influenced by your choices. 

To live means to influence your environment, to live means to leave an impression that proves your existence. You wish for nothing right now other than to ‘die’, be void of life and find comfort in that, to finally release the stress of what it means to have all this information of the world and not belong in it but you are still human, you have needs to fulfill and ‘dying’ is not one of them. 

It was time to cut Thoma off, it hurt because you knew it would hurt him but it would be better this way. That night you closed your eyes to rest, determined on your new path but gut wrenching in a myriad of emotions, fear, pressure, uncertainty, sadness. You haven't slept well ever since coming to this world and that night was no different. You fell asleep cursing the ground you walk on, cursing the details that swamped your mind, cursing your very existence and the trouble it causes to both this world and yourself. 

Seperating yourself from Thoma was simple, firstly you changed your shopping time, no longer ‘coincidentally’ meeting with him like you had these last few weeks. Secondly, you asked your boss for more work, that way you have an excuse. You aren't a ‘bad guy’ for just leaving Thoma, no its because work has been busy and you just don't have the time. This system worked, you hadn't stumbled on him while in the city and the few times he did come to your workplace you simply told him that you were busy and needed to get back to work. This system went on for weeks and was perfect for devoiding your existence of ‘live’, which yes was depressive, you could feel yourself go mad at the amount of work you put on yourself and lack of outlet, but it worked. The extra work did help with the issue of mora as well (the value of mora being confusing ingame where how a single egg was 400 mora and yet 1 mora is represented as a single coin but you realized quickly it was just the ingame market system) which lightened the financial strain a little. You worked from early mornings to late nights, arms dead by the end of the day. In truth you know it isn't a healthy cycle, often coming home and skipping meals just to bathe and sleep, but it was necessary. 

Inazumas rains soaked the land, luckily no thunder was present but the trek from the city to nearby village was still made difficult in the wet weather. Your eyes focusing and unfocusing, legs on autodrive walking you towards a particular customer of your workplace who the boss is very fond of. The old lady you were delivering to had been coming to the bakery for years but in her age can no longer make the walk to the city. Your boss found it mandatory to provide for such a loyal customer and so your weekly walk to deliver her breads was on the way. 

In the rain was silence, just the sound of your wet shoes on the mud and the rhythmic clank of the wooden box you carried and its latch. The world began to blur, shapes and colours combining as the rain obscure your vision and the melody of your steps, the rain's patter and the wooden latch soothed your mind. Peaceful, a sleepwalk yet not unconscious. 

Peace is never retained. 

“Look, a stray lamb. Ha! The rain brings fortune indeed.” a swallowed out voice but a few steps away from you got you out of your daze. A wandering samurai, perhaps 3 all together, walked from the side of the path towards you from the river. If this had been ingame the confrontation would be nothing more but an annoyance, 4 ‘characters’ to choose from to easily snuff them out or the option to just run away until they gave up chase. In reality this confrontation means little less than a deathly denouement. Heavily armed, well trained men with seemingly no morals and a thirst for sick entertainment against a human bering no vision, a basket of bread and a fatigued body leaves little wonder as to how this will end. Panic arose at the realization, the very human phenomenon of ‘fight or flight’ kicking in, and as a baby bird strives to the air you push off your feet, adrenaline quickly awakening your senses and urged your body to a change of direction and just as a fledgling's first flight you fall. Hard. Your mind may have awoken but your body had not caught the message, instead you lay your head in the dirt, all motive diminished, just your sad existence lay bare for a bunch of hostile mobs, stupid coding of copy paste enemies, to take your life. In all honesty this is perfect, you wish to retain as accurate to an npc life as possible? What better way than to die a meaningless death. That brought enough comfort to you to allow yourself to close your eyes (disregarding the other factors such as shock, exhaustion and most likely a concussion from the fall)

Perhaps a few of your questions will be answered now, if you die here will you reawaken into your own world? Will the months of lifetime in this fictitious game be nothing but a dream or will you truly die and merely sink into the mud as nothing more than a mistake upon this world? Neither as it seems the feeling of the rain pelting on your body ended, the sounds of swords being drawn and clashing washed away and your head, though still paining, layed on something far more welcoming than wet earth. 

“Are you regaining consciousness then?” you feel hands lean your body up, a hand moving you face side to side prompting your eyes to open. They are met with the analytically eyes of Ayato still looking over your features for whatever wear and tear you may have gathered. 

“To have fallen so gracefully in such a life threatening moment, truly your abilities are unmatched to any I have seen before. I am surprised you garner such mud and bruising, I had expected you to be dressed in only the most comfortable of clothing by the way you so effortlessly went to rest.” Oh for fucks sake-

You properly awaken, now relying on your own balance to stay sitting upright and Ayato moving his hands away only to have his eyes peering closer to you. You swipe at your face, lumps of mud clinging to your hand in turn. You heave a sigh just to gather yourself for a moment before speaking. 

“What happened? Why would you be here if it means I'm not dead? Ah- sorry,” you jumped into accusations before even giving thanks, not suspicious in the slightest, “my head is still sore. Sorry, I must thank you for rescuing me, I would be dead if not for you.” 

Ayato hummed and nodded his head. “To answer your question, I was on my way to the city before the rain started, not wanting to get wet I waited here under this shelter until I saw you stumble right into that group of noboshira and now we are sat here. As for your apology, it's accepted, you are welcome.” 

Why was he acting like this? Mischievous sure but with a slight hint of pride or cockiness in vulgar terms. Sure he's a noble but usually he adores the ‘polite lord’ act rather than ‘cocky aristocrat’. His attitude reminded you of how he interacts with those he deems ‘close’ rather than a stranger he's met only once. Yes you are close with Thoma which may influence how he sees you but surely not to the extent of you two being ‘close’ in turn. 

And still you must play the fool, be gracious and oblivious like you could never tell between his mask and his true face. 

“Thank you so much Lord Ayato, truly you've saved my life.” 

You stand to bow, to leave but he holds your wrist at the movement.

“Do not move so hastily now, the rain is still ongoing and I would not like to see a recurrence of you laying in the mud, no matter how amusing the first time may have been. Do sit back down.”

No denying that, no matter how much you wanted to make distance between the two of you, trying to run away would only cause more problems. You sit back down on the bench, a rickety structure just outside the village with hardly enough space for two. 

You look to the ground at your feet, watching as rain drops just a few inches away. Ayato sighs, made clear you have no intent of starting a conversation. Perhaps his political side kicks back in, going blunt and straight to the point. 

“You have been avoiding Thoma these last weeks, he's become distressed at the idea he's done something wrong.” you do not reply. 

“Is it because of my involvement? I understand you may be pressured by our difference in class but both Thoma and I have made it clear that should not be a problem when in private so why is it you fear me? I have seen those intimidated by my title but your anxiety runs deeper than that. I personally don't care as much but if it distracts your relation with Thoma then I suggest it should be dealt with.”

This questioning is unnerving, it is tearing right to the point where the only truth is to reveal the true origin of your situation. That cannot happen so you reply with what you usually do, not exactly a lie but a truth wrapped along with missing context. 

You fake a sigh, “My Lord I am… I am an introverted person by nature. When Thoma approached me I- I accepted his conversations not to be rude and i do genuinely enjoy being with him but i- he's a social person, I knew he was and it was uncomfortable for me to get involved but I tried it's just the moment I met with someone such as yourself, someone so… powerful I realized just how large his social circle is. I can't keep it up, being with him means being with others and I cant handle that.” it was the truth, yes you played it up a bit but hopefully it's an explanation Ayato would accept. 

“So you do not consider your friendship special enough to warrant such efforts?” 

“No!” you lift your head to him, for once properly looking at him, “It is, he is special, he is special beyond your understanding it's just that… I don't fit in, I don't belong by his side and meeting you and others just proves that.”

Ayato looked at you for a moment, seemingly lost in your words, perhaps not understanding the phrasing you used but he quickly morphed back into his usual laid back but self assured look.

“Was that your decision to make?” He let out a soft huff of air and looked forward to the oncoming rain. Why did he wish to avoid the rain? Given his character trailer where he casually accepts it, his skills being water based and summoning quite literal rain not to mention the casual manner his attacks have him kneeling right into it, how could he act so off put by walking along when the storm was hardly harsh, a summer spray in truth, you wouldn't have accepted going on this delivery if the weather was any worse.

“It's comforting. Something I can appreciate both from a distance and up close. Water has a tendency of being both stubborn and flexible, it moves as it wishes and chips away at that it deems in its way. When in motion it is hard to stop, when stagnate it proves hard to move.” 

Ayato turned back to you, eyes alight with something more than just his blue hues, they appeared with a sheen, not from the gloss of tears but of something you couldn't exactly tell what it embodied. Without a character profile to read it actually is very hard to tell what goes on in his mind. 

“Such waters remind me of you. So stubborn in some label you've put yourself under and yet so quick to wash away when it is threatened. You call such a label as being ‘introverted’ but I imagine it's something more isn't it? Perhaps it is insensitive of me to get into, from Thoma I hear you've had an unfortunate past in your time as a scholar and the depths of your reason may lay there but if you truly wish to integrate into a life in Inazuma then avoiding the people you come across, myself and especially Thoma, all under the pretext of being ‘introverted’, then you will find your burdens much heavier.”

In a very storylike fashion the rains seemed to ease, droplets turning to drizzle. Ayato stood up and readjusted his coat cuffs, “At the very least explain to Thoma your reasons, I did not exaggerate when I said he has become distraught.” 

You stood in turn, head buzzing but no longer in the previous pain. You nodded to Ayato, your anxieties haven't shown any actual proof and yet you hurt someone who has shown nothing but kindness and acceptance to you, it is wrong. 

“I will, you are right.”

Ayato offered his hand to you for a hand shake, both as an untold promise to explain yourself to Thoma and as a simple goodbye gesture, you shook it with a strong resolve. 

“I look forward to hearing more about you in the future. Do keep yourself well and avoid potential naps in the mud, it's not the most comfortable of places.” he smiled at you with a cheeky glint of amusement before turning his back and walking to the direction of the city. 

You sat back down on the bench, intent on waiting out the remaining drizzle, and leaned against its wooden pillars. It's all so conflicting, when you try to do right for this world you hurt and confuse those around you, if you try to appease the people around you you risk threatening their future. You bare a cursed mind of information, a cursed existence upon this plane, it isn't right to affect others by the curse you bare but it also isn't right to devoid someone so giving as Thoma.  You sit and contemplate until the drizzle gives way, your carry box placed by your feet filled with breads untouched by dirt and still awaiting their destination. 

Ayato strolls along the path to the city, it is not his usual reasoning for taking the trip but still a reason worth doing so. Along his path all threats had been eliminated, you should arrive just fine but it wasn't that which plagued his mind, rather it was a soft sense of amusement, a sense of glee that left him softly chuckling to himself. He adjusted the cuffs of his gloves, a sign to his Shuumatsuban in hiding that they are to leave him for a moment, once the soft shuffling of unseen ninja pass he turns is view to your direction, the distance hindering the sight, he needed a moment to himself, to gather all possible elements at play to give reason to his unspoken questions. 

“As expected, Thoma was right, they do hold some degree of depth.”.

[mediocreanomaly]

Amen. Priest!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

**GN!Reader** Authors Note: I have an issue. Yes Priest!Wolfwood sparks joy, so please enjoy 4,539 of depravity as my welcome back, small note at the end!

**Content Warning: I grew up religious so I'm using real scripture here, if you're religious or that makes you uncomfy this might be a skip for you, if you're depraved like me read on**

Being raised Catholic was a one-way street to spoon fulls of guilt being shoved down your throat. Most everyone in the church was more or less aware of that fact, whether they acknowledged it or not.

However, there’s a warning they don't bother to put on the good book. A warning about the more...complicated relationship you develop with religion once the guilt that's swelled up in your chest has nowhere else to go.

"Then God said, 'Take your son to the land of Moriah and kill your son there as a sacrifice for me. This must be Isaac, your only son, the one you love. Use him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains there. I will tell you which mountain.” Church sometimes God ask things from us, things that seem...unimaginable, unbearable, but we are not lead blindly. No, quite the opposite, God-' " Father Wolfwood emphases by pointing to the rafters of the church as if the big man himself was sitting there, watching. "He has a plan, a plan so great and magnificent that we cannot begin to comprehend. With that understanding Abraham takes his son, because he trust, church, he trust God enough to follow-"

The sermon is drowned out. To anyone around you you'd look devout. Pious even with how well you focus on Father Wolfwood, but it's not the bible that makes you show up every Sunday. It's the dark black tousled hair that trails into stubble lining his cheek. It's those big brown eyes wide and confident as he preaches to the congregation. It's those hands, large and calloused, that make you wonder what life he must have lived before this as he moves them around with his speech. It's his skin, perfectly tan and forehead beading with sweat from the insufferable heat of the church, no doubt that cassock isn't helping. It's his voice, deep and raspy with that perfect cadence that makes you wonder what it'd be like if he said your name while bending you over-

"Y/n?" The altar boy who you didn't even realize had come to your pew ask. He's holding out communion in a way that tells you he's been there for a second.

"Oh! uh-" you reach out for the wine when a hand around your wrist stops you, you blink a few times and look up to see the man you were just ogling at meeting your gaze with dark eyes.

"Why don't you pass that out to the other pews, y/n is joining me for a special communion after church, they had something they wanted to pray on with me" Father Wolfwood says easily.

"I do?" the words fall from your mouth dumbly which causes Wolfwood to raise an eyebrow at you as if you're stupid. You let yourself swallow and bow your head as if scolded, you wonder what part of being a priest blessed him with so much sass.

"ah- right! yes I had forgotten, thank you Father Wolfwood" you correct. You had not, in fact, discussed anything of the sorts with the Father, but there was clearly something you were missing here.

He gives you a curt nod before softening his eyes and turning back to the young boy.

"Go on" he insist. He does, continuing to the next pew with all the confirmation he needed and Wolfwood finally let’s go of your wrist. The warmth of his hand that lingers isn't lost on you as you wearily glance up at him.

"Special communion?" You try hoping to gather a bit more information on the situation you'll be faced with after Mass.

"mhmm, God has called me to you. Something weighs on your mind, perhaps a repentance is in order?" his face gives away nothing, although you swear his eyes darken as he watches you with a pleasant smile that stays locked on his face.

Alarm bells ring in your head. Did...did he know? You had done your best to hide your less than innocent gaze as worship. Thinking back on it perhaps you were less conspicuous about it than you thought, that or God was the worst wing man ever.

"Father Wolfwood I-"

He holds up his hand to pause the word vomit that was about to stutter out and shakes his head.

"Later. Best to confess without prying eyes, no?"

He lets you simmer on that as he makes his way back to the front of the church. When he leads the church in prayer you do take it upon yourself to pray for once. You pray you'll sink into the floor or be struck dead before the end of the sermon.

By the time the church doors are opened, and people file out you're sure your heart will burst anyways. You stay seated in the front pew, not moving an inch because if you stand it'll be to bolt out the door and... well technically nothing was keeping you from it. It's not like the god damn (sorry God) preacher would shoot you if you attempted to run. He had simply suggested you confess. Easy. He probably hears peoples fucked up sexual fantasies all the time sitting in that booth. You knew the sheriff’s wife was sleeping with the banker and you knew the sheriff was sleeping with the widow down the street so it's not like the stuff that’s pulled from the great Catholics of No Mans Land weren't anything he hadn't heard before.

That's the thought you try and let comfort you as Father Wolfwood finishes up thanking people for coming to church and shaking hands.

The church doors shut with a thud that makes you jump in your seat; you press your hands together firmly and feel your fingernails dig into the skin there. This was fine.

"You know" Father Wolfwood folds his hands politely behind his back and takes agonizingly slow steps down the aisle "People with guilty conscious are more likely to be startled by loud noises."

You keep your head bowed slightly in what must look like a mock prayer, but you aren’t praying any more, you're just doing everything possible to not throw up on the churches nice red carpet, carpet that is interrupted when two black dress shows come into view.

"y/n?"

That voice. It makes you press you lips in a firm line scared of what filth might come out of it if you speak. Instead, to show you're listening, you slowly raise your head to meet Wolfwoods eyes, the likes of which seem clouded in some strong emotion. Were priest always this intense? Well, the easy answer was yes but this was a different type of intensity, not kind that filled revering words but one that more closely resembled a predator zoning in on its prey.

"Y/n" he says it again, albeit softer this time as if coaxing forward a scared animal. "You have something on your mind, don't you? Something that plagues you?"

You feel your fingers instinctively move to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. If the heat from the church before was unbearable before then this is downright swelting.

"Don't you usually do this kind of thing in the booth?" a poor attempt of a smile graces your lips in a desperate attempt to lighten whatever mood was staring to suffocate the air.

"Usually yes. This is a special case I believe though..." he leans down and your heart slams against your chest, his breath fans against your cheek. You can smell lingering cologne and... was that smoke? Surely not, if your local priest smoked it'd be the talk of the town, although now that you think about it those plush lips would look perfect balancing a cigarette between them, and they'd look even better if he used those teeth to-

"I almost forgot! You haven't received communion" He straightens out in an instant and claps his hands together nearly scaring you out of your skin while your face heats up from pure embarrassment.

You watch as he crosses from the pew to the table behind the pulpit and grabs a small cup of wine and bread. Just as quickly he's back in front of you with the objects. You reach out to accept them when he pulls his hands back.

"ah ah ah, I said this was a special communion didn't I? I'll deliver it unto you, you just sit and do as your told."

Oh. Yeah, that definitely didn't do anything to you. Nothing like a gruff handsome man in priest wear telling you to obey in the house of God. This was for sure not bubbling up any worrying realizations about yourself. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He steps back putting a little bit of room between the two of you before his eyes flicker from you to the carpet in front of him.

"Kneel."

You go instantly and willingly, a bit too willingly. Your mind flashes with Father Wolfwoods sermons about the disciples who kissed Jesus’ feet. You wonder if this was an elaborate way to get you to read the bible more because you're beginning to understand what was going through their minds now as you sit on your knees in front of the priest.

You aren’t sure if Wolfwood expected you to be so eager. He pauses for a moment before you swear a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. He raises the glass and the bit of bread slightly.

"Listen to me closely, we wouldn't want to spill and stain the carpet now, would we?" he ask.

You shake your head no. He makes a satisfied hum and continues.

"Tilt your head back.”

You do as your told, tilting your head back until your eye level is forced to be centered on the man in front of you.

"Open your mouth.”

Your mouth begins to salivate despite the fact there’s nothing in it yet. Perhaps it's due to the fact that what he's about to put in it isn't want you’d like to have resting on your tongue.

"Good. Why don't you stick your tongue out a little bit? I don't want you to dribble."

Fuck him. Fuck him so bad. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing but if had any hint about this sadistic game he was playing with you he gave no indication, he remained at stoic as ever as if you weren't having the most unholy thoughts imagine about your fucking priest.

There’s no going back though. You follow his instructions and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. You swear something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it arrives.

He raises the glass and bread more as if offering it to God.

"Close your eyes.”

You do. You let the light of stained-glass windows be blotted out by your own blind obedience.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam....Amen."

You feel him press the small bit of bread onto your tongue, you close and eat. You don't need to be told before your opening your mouth again.

The wine follows right after, poured into your mouth and you swallow it down focusing on not letting any hit the ground with the speed at which the contents are emptied down your throat.

What realistically could not have been more than a few seconds feels as though it's lasted a lifetime. You take a deep breath once the bitter wine has settled in your stomach and before you can even think about getting up and excusing yourself from the church Wolfwood puts a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to stay in place.

"Good. Why don't we get that confession out of the way then?"

Right. The reason he had probably pulled you aside for all of this in the first place. Had he seen through you? Seen how hungry your gaze had become? Probably. Looking back on it sitting in the front row was probably not the best idea when the entire reason for your Sunday visits was for potential fantasy fuel. There didn't seem like any reason to lie though, it's not like a priest could tell anyone about these things and outside of church Father Wolfwood was a bit of an anomaly to the town.

He didn't have any friends that you knew of, didn't gossip, or hang out at the bar, the man lived in this church which was making you feel a bit more guilty about your infatuation now that you thought of it but hey, if you weren't guilty about something then were you even a catholic?

"Forgive me Father I have sinned..."

With a grimace you realize why the damn confessions booths were so popular. Admitting this to God or a wooden wall was a little too easy. Admitting this to Wolfwood was like someone slowly peeling off your skin.

"I see, well, tell me child what is your confession?"

a swallow, then a leap.

"I have been...ah having inappropriate thoughts about someone. Someone who I go out of my way to see to add to these...fantasy's I have."

He listens closely and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

"I see...lust then?"

You nod in response, and he makes an affirming noise.

"And what do you imagine happening in these...fantasies of yours?"

The silence in the empty church is so loud it's deafening. Your hands scrunch and unscrunch the fabric of your pants.

"I...I imagine him pushing be down against these very pews Father. That one day as I'm standing up to leave mass, he'll shove me right back down and take me against the wood."

It's said strained but even you must admit maybe there’s something to this confession shit because you feel a bit lighter with it off your shoulders. Father Wolfwood looks less light. In fact, he looks you've just damned him to hell.

"Is that all?" he asks but it comes out breathier than he means it to.

The tone sends something to your core, oh you see it now. Lamb and shepherd your ass, you were still most certainly the lamb but the Father was no shepherd, he was the Wolf. Maybe God himself had put that divine foreshadowing into his name.

You shift on your knees and press yourself flatter trying to rub your thighs together. Wolfwoods eyes flicker down to the action then back up to your face, he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"No Father. Sometimes I imagine him taking me on the stand in front of the whole congregation. Still preaching while he finishes in me, holy words even in his most sinful act. But...do you know what I really want Father?"

Wolfwood swallows, his fingers trace along your face, and you fight every instinct to lean into it. He looks like this is paining him, He's all gritted teeth and square shoulders as he speaks.

"What do you want?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"I imagine he'd keep me here after church, that he'd have me kneel before him still while wearing his holy clothes, that collar, the rosary...and I wish he'd undo his belt to-"

"Enough."

Your mouth snaps shut scared you've pushed to far. You can feel heat bloom across your face in embarrassment now that your words are catching up to you, this was meant to be a confession not a shit porno, maybe you DID need God...

"You drive me insane you know that? Every day you come in here- the house of god mind you and stare at me like..." He clicks his tongue and motions to you.

"Well like that."

You aren't sure what to make of his tone, it's scolding and firm but hinges on needy at the end. You're starting to worry you broke the poor man before he makes an irritated noise.

"Fine. You want to repent so bad?" Wolfwoods hands go to his belt and with a soft clink of the metal it comes fastened. Your eyes flicker to look towards the door to make sure that no one was about to walk in on the scene that'd put Judas’ sin to shame when you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Pay attention sweetheart, you were doing so good before, what happened?" The mask of a holy man cracks and gives way to something cockier, more taunting, more...Wolfwood.

"Unless you need scripture to keep your focus?" he works to undo the button and the zip of his dress pants as he tilts his head.

"Then here's something for you, 'the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When Eve saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom..' "

He frees himself from the confines of his pants. You feel your mouth water and although your knees are starting to hurt from kneeling for so long you have a feeling you're about to get your real communion.

" '...and she opened her mouth, and took.' "

In beat with his preaching you let your mouth fall open. In all honesty, you get it now. You get how appealing that lush fruit must have been to Eve, you get why even after being promised paradise, she gave in to temptation. The weight that settles on your tongue as Wolfwood presses into your mouth makes your eyes roll back and an involuntary moan escape your throat. Wolfwoods breath stutters.

"God..." He groans and if your mouth wasn't currently full you might have made a witty comment about using the lords name in vain but a quick hand lacing through your hair from Wolfwood serves well enough to sever whatever thought had flitted through your mind.

You flatten your tongue and take more, allowing as much as you can to the back of your throat but when tears prick your eyes and you gag slightly on the sensation he pulls you off with a wet pop. You whine slightly at loss before Wolfwoods hand grabs your chin while he uses his thumb to wipe up the drool leaking from your lips that you hadn't realized was there.

"Patience, don’t you listen to a word I say up there?” he muses, you sheepishly look up at him through your eyelashes and it’s answer enough. He pulls you back in front of his cock, "Be good then, swallow every drop and I might forgive you"

You don't have much time to argue has his hand guides you back. You're more prepared this time, the way you sit on your knees...you’re a picture perfect saint and who's here to judge you for your sin anyways? Wolfwood? Sounded like a set up to a joke.

"Fuck, yeah baby just like that. So good-" His words break off with a grunt and his hips stutter forward, he pulls your head forward and your reach up to steady yourself with his thighs. He rocks his hips to your mouth as he face fucks you in the middle of the church. When his breathing speeds up and he mutters out a sting of gentle curses you know he’s close. You close your eyes and let him use you as he spills down your throat. You're desperate to show him you can listen, you swallow down as much as you can trying to not let a single drop of cum hit the floor.

When the rough handful of hair is released, you pull back to try and catch your breath, a worthless endeavor it would seem considering you're just as quickly being lifted up by your arm. You feel yourself being tugged up the steps towards the pulpit and make peace with the fact you're officially the worst Catholic ever...well besides the priest who's currently the instigator of this depravity.

"Not done yet sweetheart, the grace of god doesn't come with a blow job surprisingly" Wolfwood huffs amused as he presses down on your shoulder to force you to bend of the wood stand.

"Are you even a priest?" wrong question you guess because Wolfwood makes an irritated noise.

"Aren't you supposed to be repenting?" His hands grope at your thighs spreading them apart much more slowly than you'd like, as if he's savoring it...reverence you think.

"Father-"

He chuckles lowly at that.

"Father" he imitates "you let that name fall from your lips like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"

His fingers ghost over your thighs, then around the area you want him most before sliding up under your shirt to explore flesh. It's so hot in the church and when you peer out across the wooden pews you see the stain glass window casting rainbow light that sprawls out across the floor all the way up to your body.

"Focus on me" Wolfwood corrects your wandering mind by nipping along your neck and your body instinctively shudders against him. You press your hips back to feel his growing hardness pressed against your ass. His hands slide your shirt up over your head and he begins to focus on trailing kisses along your back.

"Thank you, lord," His lips move against your shoulder blade.

"For delivering this sinner unto me, so that I may show them rapture."

His fingers hook along the hem of your pants and tug them down your legs until they rest right at your knees.

"Despite that, I must confess, I have sinned."

His fingers trace along your entrance before slowly sinking in. You groan and press your head to the wood in front of you, fingers scratching against the surface.

"I have lusted for someone of my own congregation. I have imagined them kneeling for me and I worst of all I have imagined me taking them, devouring them until there is nothing left to fill them but me"

Another finger lazily joins the first and he begins a slow rhythm of pumping them in and out. You attempt to wiggle your hips back to chase the feeling, but his other hand keeps your waist flush against the stand.

"But I am only a man so with my mortal body I will show them euphoria"

You feel his fingers pull out and whine at the loss only to feel the blunt head of his own cock begin to line up with you.

"Amen"

Wolfwood doesn't give you much more warning before roughly pressing in. You moan as he sets a backbreaking pace, thankful that he at least prepped you before. He's leaned over your body; his hair tickles the back of your neck slightly as he pants in your ear. You imagine your own noises can't be much better as his left hand, the one he's apparently wrapped in a rosary, comes up to catch your chin, two fingers press into your mouth as he supports your head. His other hand stays at your hip, bringing your body back against his with every thrust.

It's so hot in the church, sweat beads along your body and you can feel your hair beginning to stick to your forehead. Your mind feels foggy and you lap absent mindedly at the fingers invading your mouth. Wolfwood groans and pushes you down further against the stand and it'd be uncomfortable if you could focus on anything other than the priest fucking your brains out. He produces an ungodly amount of precum, you can feel it making a mess between your thighs right as drool begins to leak from the corners of your mouth and bead down to the wood below.

Wolfwoods hand shifts from your hip to where a blooming warmth has begun. You nearly cry out with relief babbling nonsense around his fingers, hell maybe even a few prayers. His own mouth is becoming less of that of a reverend and more of that of a ravenous man, mouthing and biting at what he can reach. The fingers press deeper into your mouth and your feel the smooth beads of the rosary are you toy with them with your tongue. You're close, you tremble beneath Wolfwood and he catches on because both his hands pull away to once again fit along your hips. You nearly sob from the new lack of stimulation as he rocks into you.

"Beg for it" Wolfwood says so firm you'd have sworn he was once again leading congregation. Your mind is half way to mush right now so it doesn't take much convincing to do what he wants.

"Please please please let me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I repent" you babble out hoping you’ve said the magic words.

His hand comes down firmly on your ass as he thrust into you then finally finally reaches to touch between your thighs.

It sends you over the edge instantly, your legs trembling as you whine and moan, Wolfwoods own obscene noises match your own as he finishes inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, you become aware of the fact your priest is pressed up against your back, trying to catch his breath from fucking the ever loving daylights out of you. You whine slightly and Wolfwood responds by nuzzling his face against your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You do actually laugh at that one, letting your forehead rest against the podium.

"The priest I've been fantasizing about fucking me for a year now just has. This has been the best lay of my life and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're awfully vulgar aren't you?"

You snap your head up to make several points about irony of the statement but when you turn you see a shit eating grin on his face. Your playfully hit his chest and groan.

"You've got to be the worst priest ever"

"Can't say I'd deny that claim" He leans forward and kisses you, you go into it easily but the taste of his lips remind you of something, when you pull away you raise an eyebrow

"Do you smoke?"

He shrugs and keeps his hands on your waist.

"I prefer to keep certain things in my life separated from the church"

"and me?"

"Consider yourself a special case." He smirks and takes hold of your chin between his fingers "Although I do hope this was enough to keep you coming to my sermons?" he ask

You swallow at the dark look in his eye and place your hands on his chest.

"and miss the holy word? Perish the thought"

He chuckles lowly at that as your hands begin to play with the collar of the cassock he wears.

"Although Father, I fear I may not have properly confessed."

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you "No?"

You shake your head "See I only...repented for two out of three fantasy’s I had also mentioned being taken against the pews"

Wolfwoods hands tighten around his hips and his smile widens.

"Well...let's fix that, shall we?"

Author's note: ahhhh I'm back! I've been storin this little beauty away for awhile now. This is my welcome back post because I feel like I lost the way I wanted to organize and write for a little while and this was the first piece that got me back in the flow of things. I missed you guys! We're back baby! (I'll add my spacers in later I'm missin the files rn and I don't feel like searching for them)

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting Tips – Part ? I lost count just check my thrifting tag

1) Make friends with the staff. If you go into a particular thrift store frequently it’s well worth it to get friendly with the staff. Ask them about their day, chat with them about what you’re buying, infodump if you’ve found something exciting and unusual. When the staff get to know you and know what you buy they’ll start pointing out things in the store that have come in since the last time you were there, that fit your interests. They may even start putting things aside for you. Recently I walked into my favorite thrift store and had 2 separate staff members say ‘Oh I’ve got something for you’. Plus having the staff greet you by name and having little inside jokes with them just makes the whole experience more fun.

2) Brita jugs turn up at the thrift store frequently. If tap water in your area is safe but has A Taste, keep an eye out at the thrift store.

3) Coffee making equipment. Capsule coffee makers, the wire racks that hold the capsules, French presses, these all get donated frequently. The occasional espresso machine comes in – and goes out very quickly. Now and then you’ll find pour-over coffee equipment. If you like your bean juice you can get the equipment you need to make fancy bean juice at the thrift store.

4) Handmade pottery mugs. Story time: About 6 or 7 years ago I went into a thrift store and someone had obviously just cleaned out their mug cupboard and donated a pile of handmade pottery. I bought 4 because I thought they were cool, very tactile, nice to hold. This AWOKE something in me. Humans have used handmade pottery for thousands of years and there’s something about holding a handmade mug that sparks a genetic memory of warmth and comfort. Pottery also has much better thermal properties than mass produced ceramic, hot stays hot longer and vice versa with cold. Build up a little collection of handmade pottery mugs from the thrift store, each one has its own personality and it brings joy using them.

5) In the same vein: teaspoons. Build up a collection of fun teaspoons and take joy from using different ones depending on your mood. I have one with an owl on the end and another with a rose, a brass one with a wiggly handle in the shape of a snake, one that has the branding of an airline that now only uses wooden stirrers - probably because people kept pocketing the stainless-steel teaspoons (I always wanted to steal one as a child but never had the nerve). Whenever I need a teaspoon it’s always a little endorphin boost to open the drawer and select the perfect one for today.

6) If you need something to do a specific job, be patient, you will find the perfect thing eventually. I switched to solid shampoo and my old soap dish wasn’t big enough to hold my shampoo bar and my regular soap, so I waited and watched and found the perfect little glass tray that was exactly the right size and fits perfectly on the shelf in my shower. I could have bought a brand new made-for-that-purpose multi soap holder, but it wouldn’t have been as cool looking and when I’m done with it, it wouldn’t necessarily get another life.

7) Gift supplies. Thrift stores often have a selection of unused gift wrap, bags, bows, cards. It’s worth it to sift through what they’ve got and buy any you think you might use – even if you don’t have an immediate use for it. That stuff can get expensive so if you can create a small stash then, when you need it, you won’t have to shell out $$.

8) Look for things that can be made over – or thrift flipped as the DIY content creators like to say. There’s so much satisfaction from looking at something that was plain ugly when you bought it and you’ve turned it into something pretty. It doesn’t need to be a major transformation that requires 5 different power-tools and 100 bucks worth of supplies. It can be as simple as a lick of paint, but every time you look at you will feel good about it.

9) Sometimes it’s worth buying something that’s just really cool and figuring out a use for it later. I bought the coolest little silver plated mustard pot; it has 3 legs and at the top of each leg is a lion head. Do I eat mustard much? No. Did I know what the heck I would use it for? No. I get bad indigestion and keep antacids on hand, I hate how once you tear open the roll, they tend to spill everywhere so I like to put them in something. Guess what holds exactly one roll of antacids? If something is just freaking awesome but you don’t know what you’d use it for, you will find a use (and it will be so much cooler than anything else you might have bought for that purpose).

10) Use the fancy stuff. Don’t ever look at something in a thrift store and think: that’s too fancy, I’ll never use it. If it’s not bought and used it ends up in landfill. Save it from the landfill and use it. Today I bought the most OTT fancy silver pepper shaker to sit next to my stove and hold ground pepper for cooking with, one of my housemates never puts the damn pepper back in the cupboard when he’s finished with it, so now we have this ostentatious silver shaker next to the stove top. One of my dogs can be relied upon to get half of his food on the floor before he hoovers it up, I could have got a plastic mat to feed him on but I had a spare thrifted marble cutting/serving board (I have a problem, I own 3, I have so much trouble resisting them), and another plus - he can’t destroy it like he would a plastic mat. I keep my toothbrush in a crystal bud vase. I decant my micellar water into a bottle shaped like a seahorse. I eat off pretty vintage pink glass plates. Using the fancy stuff from thrift stores both helps you romanticize your own life and it gives these items another life. Do be sensible though, some items made before the early 1970s including glassware and dinnerware contain lead in the decoration so do your due diligence and be safe.

[genji-centric]

Phantom Pain

Genji Shimada x Reader

Most of Genji's time at Overwatch has mostly been the same. He always would go to Dr. Ziegler, when something would happen with his many prosthetics. Missing an arm and 2 legs was something he never really could accept. His reflection always put him off even after coming to terms and accepting his new life. Genji still was able to do what he was able to before, I infact better with his range of motion heightened in his legs, making jumping easier and his jumps holding more power than they did before. But there would be days he felt the loss of his limbs, stings of pain would shoot through his missing extremities. Aches would plauge his day. Sometimes, it would just be a feeling for a moment, and others it would last for hours with seemingly no end to the pain. Those days were always his worst.

Angela always helped him, always giving him explanations on why it's happening and she would treat him the way she could. Genji always knew it was something to expect. In fact, when he first woke up with his limbs replaced, he was told the news and what to expect. But with how much mirror therapy and medications sometimes they never worked, Genji hated the fact they never truly worked.

He knew stress could impact the severity of how painful it could be. Meditation was something that grew to be just as important as training for him. Genji thought he was at peace with himself, with his life, but deep down, he was still lonely. He went from a man with a family, maybe not a good one, but Hanzo was there when he was younger and had the time. And Genji would always have a girlfriend, someone to talk his mind to and someone to be there for him. At Overwatch, that wasn't there.

Sure, at Overwatch, he had friends. Angela was friendly, and so was everybody else. But he never had someone close to someone who made that spark in his heart and someone to hold close.

Those days where he would lay there in pain, each stump of his throbbing made it hurt to walk or let alone stand in place. His whole body ached, the metal feeling like in was still his flesh, and every single cell was in pain. He just wished someone was there for him. He wished he wasn't so alone. Meditation felt impossible, and he just needed to be grounded. But nobody could willingly hold someone more metal than skin. He was accepting of himself, but that didn't hold true to everyone.

Genji kept everyone's at arms length. The only individual he spoke his mind to was Zenyatta, and even then, it wasn't about his love life. Any desire he pushed down, he focused on the blade rather than his heart. That was until he saw someone who caught his eye.

Usually, he would be cordial with anyone he saw as attractive, but he couldn't shake it away when talking to you. The way you smiled at him, the way you played with the hem of your shirt when talking to him, the way your face flushed when he said your name. You blushed when he spoke, and he couldn't help but smile when you did. Weeks passed and you two continued to get closer and closer, he didn't open up much but you could tell he was comfortable around you. He loved how much you had in common, a similar sense in humor and a bond over shared interests.

Genji had caught feelings, and as a leap of faith, he asked you to go on a date. Of course, you said yes. It was Genji, after all. He brought you to a secluded spot out of the city, a place with a perfect view of the night sky. You saw his face for the first time, and after that, you two were inseparable. Eventually, he would start staying the night at your place, always helping with any chores or watching a show together. Nights every once a while turned to once a week, and then all of a sudden, your boyfriend was living with you.

Genji was a joy to live with. He did his part of chores, and rent was always paid in time. But some days, he would be slightly off. He always would brush you off, either saying its pain from training or a rough nights sleep. Eventually, he would say it was medical things to do with his injuries, but it was nothing to worry about. He was used to it. He told you of his past, his near death, and the remnants of his body after his fight. He told you about phantom pain, but brushing it off by saying he has medication for it and you never really questioned him. Genji was an honest man and partner. He never had a reason to be dishonest.

But one day, you both were home. It was one of those days he seemed off. Genji looked horrible. His face was pale, and he was distant. He was just laying on your shared bed.

"Genji, what's wrong? You can tell me."

Genji's eyes shifting slightly to look up to you, he gulped for speaking.

"It's nothing.. just health things."

He told you about his flare-ups of pains, the feeling that his body was still one piece, and it would feel weird or hurt. But you never saw him like this before. You sighed before sitting the bed beside him, running fingers through his hair.

"I can help you, just say the word, and I'll do it."

You felt Genji melt into your touch, a soft hum coming from him.

"Just hold me.. please."

You shifted so you were lying down beside him, his back facing you. Wrapping an arm around his stomach, you nuzzled into the back of his neck, his black hair tickling your face. You felt Genji's body relaxed a bit. You ran your hand up and down his stomach, which seemed to relax him more. He let out another content hum, his human hand reaching to pat your arm.

"Thank you, this.. this helps. It helps me alot more then anything else I've tried for this."

Genji never really went too far into what it was like. You only knew what the internet had to say of what it was like to feel phantom pain. But anything to help your boyfriend was something you were willing to do. Hearing his fast-paced breaths turn to slower and more relaxed ones was enough to make you want to stay there for him. And the soft snores that came from him after only a couple minutes was enough to make you want to stay there forever.

[mikeyss1ut]

Hey we have the same namee

Mimi :)

Anyways would you write a Wednesday x female reader

Wednesday with a stubborn reader that has always been stubborn, she never listens to anyone if she puts her mind into something she HAS to do it and no one has ever come close to stopping her

One day she goes to do something dangerous and everyone tries to stop her but she won't listen until Wednesday shows up and tells her to stop and to everyone shock reader actually listens

Yes. Yes. Just yes. Name twins. HEHEHE SHES SO BAE OMG

Your friends warned you. Every single time. You being stubborn didn’t listen to a blink of what they said.

It was the night of the raven dance and instead of attending there. You we’re going to go to the normies school dance so you could poor real pigs blood through there sprinklers. You had already gotten a buckets of pigs blood. All you needed to do was go through with the plan.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea y/n!” Enid said. She was getting ready for the raven dance at there school.

“I’ll be fine, all you party poopers just can’t see what great fun this is.”

“Ruining a school dance is not fun! You could get in serious trouble. Especially the normies school! I just don’t want to see you get hurt is all.”

“And I appreciate that enid but I’ll be fine I swear.”

You hugged her. And she tried one last time to get you to stay before you left.

“Hey y/n!” You turned your head.

Xavier.

“Your still not going on with this plan are you?” Xavier said.

“Oh my god. Everyone hears so lame. I’ll be fine I’ll get out before they can see it was me anyways.”

“Y/n listen I really don’t think you should do this I-“

“Zip it. Okay I’m going through with it I don’t care what anyone says.” You were wrong. You did care what one had to say. “Don’t ask me to bail you out of jail.” He defended and walked off.

You were walking down the stairs when you saw her. “Oh hey Wednesday, what do you need.” You asked “just for you to drop the bucket of blood.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Listen y/n hate to bug your spark of insanity joy but. This is not a good time to do this. I think the ideas awesome really. But with a monster on the loose I think this just isn’t a right time to do this. Especially since we’re guarding the fact that the sheriff already has its eyes out on Nevermore.”

“Oh, yeah I suppose your right. Plus the idea was pretty crazy.” You laughed, Wednesday began to walk off.

“Wait uhm will I see you at the dance?” You asked

“Unfortunately. But not because I wanted to I was forced against my will for a train of surprise to ask Xavier.”

You giggled.