#( it's quieted down after a few court hearings but many of them still secretly want to get rid of him )

[demcnwrought]

»» ──────ஓ๑⚜๑ஓ ────── «« ❝ … ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ not for my family, i too would be in a place that would be endlessly lonely, nothing to explain why i cannot fly or why i cannot use magic. i would have been destined to be alone, nothing but an outcast, someone higher angels would likely want exiled or even executed. if my magic cannot be used for the good of the three worlds, then i am but useless. thankfully, my father was able to be honest with me. now i am capable of magical ability and not at substantial risk for expulsion. ... at least, not as great as it was before i was able to utilize my abilities. it is odd how little things can change EVERYTHING in the blink of an eye. but it seems as though much has not been well regardless. ... i am likely not in the greatest position to offer this, given my own struggles with making things right, but do let me know if you require any assistance. ❞

“It’s complicated… it’s not exactly better than it was before.. just different…” Lilith’s voice seemed to carry a sadness as she looked down at her hands, two rings still laid on the ring finger of her left hand. “My father is- was… an archangel.. he’s dead now.. that’s why my life started to change.. one second I’m just a girl, plans to live a normal, happy life… the next I’m a nephilim, wanted dead.. but I guess compared to the alternative.. life is better with Lazarus. If I didn’t have him.. I’d be alone, or dead..”

“My brother and I couldn’t be more different.. a half demon and a half angel.. aggressive versus passive.. but now we’re becoming more and more similar, the deeper I’m dragged into this life I never knew existed.” She let out a sigh, twisting the rings on her finger. “I never asked for any of this.. I wanted to live a normal life.. I was going to get married, start a family, teach children.. now I won’t get that chance..”

[wutheringmights]

I just read the newest chapter and I loved it! ♥ ♥ ♥ I was wondering if you had some hcs about the engineer that you could share?

Awww I'm glad you like it! I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out what "HCS" meant before realizing I'm a tired idiot who can't read lol

But yeah! I got some headcanons for the engineer/Spirits I can share!

These headcanons are a mix of things I generally believe for any iteration of the Hero of Spirits and a few things exclusive to CTB. It's pretty obvious which are which.

Technically this is slight spoilers since most of this is not mentioned in-story, but Warriors is a such a self-centered asshole that I'm not sure when I can get him to explicitly ask about Spirit's backstory lol

This got super long and kind of just became me talking about Spirits's entire backstory, so enjoy:

Spirits is sixteen during the course of Spirit Tracks, mostly because that was the vibe I got from him when I first played the game (I made him younger for CTB)

He's not descendant from Wind (who I maintain disappeared instead of settling in New Hyrule); instead, he's Aryll's great grandson

His family name used to be Outset, but when everyone who originally immigrated from Outset island took on that last name, they changed it to Aryll to reflect the family matriarch

So Spirit's full name is Link Aryll, though there is a branch of his family that uses Macaryll instead

The Aryll/Macaryll family is huge; everyone has at least six aunts and uncles on all sides of the family and they can trace back how they are related to Aryll

"I'm Grandma Aryl's third son's second daughter's fifth child." -someone Spirits is related to, probably

He actually never met his great grandmother; she died before he was born.

Spirit's dad was full-blooded Lokomo while his mother was Hylian; his mother passed a few months after he was born after never truly recovering from childbirth while his father died in a fishing accident when he was eight

He went to live with an aunt and uncle who owned a general store; their relationship was polite at best. The aunt and uncle told Spirits upfront that they intended to give the store over to his cousin when he was older so Spirits needed to come up with his own life plan

Spirits didn't necessarily mind since he never wanted to work in a store for the rest of his life, but the ultimatum made it clear that they didn't care for him like a son

To this day, their relationship isn't strained and he doesn't hate them. But whenever they meet, he's overly polite; they're more acquaintances than family

He's cool with his cousin though. They have different interests so they aren't best friends, but they're okay.

Spirits also always had his spirit-sensing abilities. It's really like a sixth sense to him, as normal and automatic as seeing and hearing; he actually didn't realize this wasn't normal until he was a little older

His abilities at this point are limited to sensing vague ideas of a person's spirit (if they're light or dark, etc.), and seeing ghosts (which are really rare. You have to have a lot of power yourself to become one)

(Note: I'm not the only one who headcanons Spirits as having spirit sensing abilities; if you know who can up with the idea, please let me know so that I can tag/credit them!)

The elder of his village told him that select Lokomo had minor spirit sensing abilities, and those who did were traditionally made elders of their villages; being more of a follower than a leader, Spirits adamantly dismissed that idea and refused to be trained on how to hone his spirit senses. He also never learned any of the religion behind it

Which was a little worrisome since his abilities are way stronger than most

Besides, he's always liked trains and it's been his dream to travel around the kingdom as an engineer; being some town's elder would get in the way of that

Anyway, Spirits had to pass a written exam before being accepted as an apprentice engineer, so he's very studious and has a lot of drive (pun unintended?)

He went to live with his Uncle Niko during his apprenticeship in another town; Niko isn't related to him, but he's been a friend of the family for so long that everyone secretly thinks he's actually related to someone and they just forgot who

Niko is his real family, hands down. Those two are as thick as thieves and bring out the wild side in each other

A preteen Spirits used to think Niko was a little lame and kind of embarrassing, but now that he's older, he's all for Niko's weird old man-ness and has even picked up on some of his weird old man-ness himself

That being said, they're both disasters. Neither can clean or cook or do any kind of housekeeping and their shared house is cluttered with Niko's art projects and Spirit's half-finished tinkering

Growing up, Spirits had no idea he was related to the legendary Hero of Wind; Aryll died before he was born, but even in life she was filled with too much grief over her missing brother to discuss it often. Within the family, being related to the Hero of Wind is a rumor at best.

Of course, Niko knows but keeps it a secret from Spirits; once he got back from his LU-adventure, Wind told Niko about the curse of the Hero's Spirit. Then he went missing post-New Hyrule's founding, which really drove the terror of the curse home. Niko thought he could keep Wind's family from falling victim to it by not inadvertently encouraging them to follow in Wind's footsteps

So Niko kept it a secret

And obviously, that didn't work

Spirits' quest to save New Hyrule resulted in him realizing that he needed to embrace his Lokomo heritage and get a handle on his spirit powers; Anjean gave him a little training during his quest but afterwards he traveled around the kingdom to find as many people as he could with abilities like his

They were all really excited to teach him what they knew, especially the religious aspects of the abilities; Spirits is still not the most religious person, but he at least understands and embraces the cultural significance of what he is able to do

This is where he learned how to read a person's Spirit to get an idea of their life experiences and the kind of person they're like; he can also detect where a person is without having to put much effort into it

At Zelda's encouragement, he also got more sword training from the Castle Guard. She offered him a place among them, but he turned it down in favor of remaining an engineer. He still helps around as a swordsman when he can and will act as Zelda's body guard

Speaking of which, he and Zelda are 100% in love. Their relationship started out as puppy love but over the years as matured into a deep connection built on mutual respect

When he's working on designing new engines or parts for his trains, he occasionally brings his drafting materials to the castle gardens so that he can work alongside Zelda; sometimes she falls asleep leaning against his arm and he has to be careful not to shake her awake as he works

Whenever she need to go anywhere in the kingdom, she rides in his train and teasingly criticizes his conducting; he takes a lot of pride in his conducting, but he lets her get away with it since her critiques are objectively hilarious

He keeps a tiny pictograph of her taped to his dashboard

But there's a bit of a problem with their relationship, and it's that he doesn't know if he wants to be the prince consort or not. He does love her, but that would mean giving up being an engineer in favor of being stuck at the castle all of the time

Plus, he's doing great as an engineer; he's saving up to open his own garage that produces his own train designs

Eventually, he leaves for the War of Eras

His experiences with Warriors leaves him more sure than ever that he doesn't want to be the prince consort, resulting in him ending his relationship with Zelda shortly after he returns home

It hurts for a long time to be around her since all of his old feelings keep coming back, so he keeps his distance for a long time; it takes a few years for him to go back to hanging out with Zelda as friends

But now she's approaching marriage age, and he spends a lot of time when he's on body guard duty super jealous of these princes and ambassadors from foreign kingdoms who try to court her

But again, he knows he can't be in a relationship with her so he respectfully and silently pines over her (I'm just a sucker for pining, okay?)

Okay, more random headcanons that are a little less sad

Spirits likes super spicy food, but since he can't cook to save his own life, he just eats whatever he can get his hands on

He's super dirty all of the time, just the epitome of scrappy; there's always a smear of oil somewhere on his person

He actually really hates bathing and only keeps his curly hair in check to comply with train safety regulations

He's really polite and a little shy, but once he loosens up, he gets talkative and personable

He's also very contemplative; he likes conducting so much because he gets to spend long stretches of time alone with nothing but his thoughts

His trauma/stress response is to shut down; he goes quiet, loses energy, and sleeps for longer periods of time

He tends to gravitate towards socializing with people who are older than him, which gets him labeled as being no fun by his peers (despite having someone as cooky as Niko for a uncle)

Post-adventure, his best friend is Linebeck III. They're drinking buddies. Neither can really explain why they even like hanging out as much as they do

(I just like the idea of Linebeck accidentally getting attached to one kid and his whole bloodline getting forever tangled with Wind's; they're bros for multiple lifetimes)

Not only is Spirits good at designing and building new machinery, but he's great at tinkering; he can fix almost anything and will buy broken things on purpose just to have something to fix

No one really knows he's a hero; he doesn't like the attention and, at his request, Zelda did her best to keep his involvement with Malladus a secret

Because not many common people know about his adventure and records of New Hyrule are very rare, he's considered in Warrior's time to be a forgotten hero; some scholars believe that a Hero of Spirits may have once existed, but if he did, no one really knows who he was or what he did to serve the bloodline of Hylia

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full. 

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I am sorry for taking so much to post this chapter. I was suffering from a severe writer’s block and uni is driving me crazy.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake and Hooked on You, part one and part two of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

Shout out to @arinbelle for having requested THE rain scene present in the 2005 version. I had to change a few things to fit it in this fic, but I hope you like it nonetheless!!

Smells like petrichor and paper

“This is not what I was expecting”

Cassian dropped the pressed daisy chain he was holding, looking up to see none other than his brother, Azriel.

“Mother’s tits, brother! You gave me a fright! What are you doing here?” Cassian inquired, finding it strange to see the Chief of the Royal Intelligence at Pemberley when he had promptly disposed of him not three days ago.

“Good to see you too brother” Azriel snorted, sitting in front of him “ I thought you had left all your work at the office”

Cassian glanced at the piles of paper on his table. He was currently in his study, a place he usually avoided when he was at Pemberley unless he had any remaining work from his office to do. No wonder Azriel was surprised to see him there.

“This is not work” he said, arranging the papers and putting them in the drawer, along with the daisy chain.

Cassian did not want Azriel inquiring after the delicate object. Not after his brother had seen how affected by Nesta he was. Azriel would probably tease him about having pressed the daisy chain and made a bookmark out of it, pity on his eyes.

“For what do I owe the pleasure of having your delightful presence here?” he inquired.

“Good to see you missed me” Azriel said “Me and Georgie thought it would be better to come and see if you were alive.”

“Georgiana is here?”

Cassian had not seen his younger sister in a while now. He missed his dear sister deeply.

“She said she would look at your horses and decide which she would take for herself after you were declared dead” his brother smirked “She will be quite sad to know you are alive”

He took back his words.

He did not miss the wild brat at all.

“Let’s wait for that devil at the parlor. I have some guests that are due to arrive any minute now”

“Guests?” Azriel asked in surprise as they left Cassian’s study “I came here expecting to find you wallowing in self-pity but instead you are expecting guests? Do enlighten me brother”

“Lady Nesta and her friends are coming” Cassian mumbled, passing by Lumière — his kind hearted but rebellious maître d' who likes to annoy Cogsworth — requesting him to warn Mrs.Potts to bring the refreshments earlier, given Azriel and Georgiana’s unexpected visit.

“What was that again?” Azriel stumbled over a chair, his head snapping so fast in Cassian’s direction that he swore he had heard a cracking sound.

“Lady Nesta Archeron and some friends of hers are coming today” Cassian answered, sitting down and hoping his sister’s inquiries would not be as bothersome as Azriel’s.

“You invited her all the way to Pemberley?”

“Cauldron no! I arrived at Pemberley and they were visiting the state” Cassian laughed in disbelief  “She did not even know I was the owner. They came yesterday  and we went fishing on the property.”

“And she is coming back again?” his brother raised an eyebrow in question.

“I am showing them the rest of the state, nothing more” Cassian was glad Azriel had not read the papers on his desk, least his brother see the bullet list he had written down, which consisted of places he planned to show Nesta and her friends, not to say the rest of his planning for the day.

He had to make Azriel believe he was completely over Nesta Archeron.

Nevermind that could not be the furthest from the truth.

Nevermind he was so enamoured with her he had pressed the daisy chain she had given him and turned it into a bookmark.

Cassian did not know if he would ever get anything from Nesta again.

So he was going to treasure what she was willing to give him now. Even if it was not enough.

Even if his heart yearned for more with each passing moment he spent in her presence.

“You wear your heart for all to see, brother” Azriel said, a knowing look on his face “I just worry you end up hurt because of it.”

“Good thing you will be here to put it back together, right?” Cassian gave him a sly grin, wanting to not worry his brother with his hopeless love life.

They were interrupted by the door opening and Mrs.Potts arriving with tea and pastries, Georgiana right behind the head maid.

“Oh, you are alive” his fifteen yeard old sister declared, a sad look on her face that made Cassian almost believe her, were it not for the small dimple on the corner of her mouth, which always appeared when she was trying not to smile.

Georgiana had always been a good actress, Rhysand having jokingly said on more than one occasion she should join the theater were she not to marry.

“That is how you greet your favourite brother?” Cassian said, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Currently, Azriel is my favourite brother” Georgiana announced, sitting on the couch beside him, her pale pink dress fanning around her “He bought me a strawberry cake yesterday”

“But I have some double dipped chocolate cookies right here” Cassian thanked Mrs.Potts, who gave Georgiana a plate with them, winking at his sister before leaving the room.

“Sorry Zizi, Cassian is my favourite now” she said, taking a huge bite of one cookie.

Cassian laughed at that, Azriel smiling at the nickname. Georgiana could not say his name when she was younger, sticking with Zizi until she was ten years old.

He could not help but feel a little sad to see his baby sister all grown up. Soon she would be entering society and start being courted. Not that either him or his brothers would give her hand for just anybody, and Georgie was free to choose to not marry at all. She had that privilege being the sister of a duke and the two of the highest ranking people at the Queen’s service. No one would dare and say a thing were Georgie to be a spinster or really join a theater company.

“My Lord,” Cogsworth interrupted his wandering thoughts, entering the parlor “Your guests have arrived.”

“And the ladies look very pretty” Lumière teased, earning an elbow on the ribs by Cogsworth.

Cassian for once did not laugh at their usual bickering, having sat straighter and looking at the door, holding his breath.

The ladies were indeed very pretty, courtesy of Emerie of course. Although today she had chosen to wear a dress, it was once again unique. With long see through sleeves, pearls and light turquoise flowers on the bodice of a dress in the same colour — a matching long scarf taking the attention off the gown’s deep neckline — and a big transparent hat with the same palette of colour on her head, Cassian could not blame Georgiana’s wide eyed look at Emerie, who was for sure nothing like any other lady his sister had ever seen.

Gwyn wore a gown with the same off shoulder design as last time, but with short sleeves and three quarters lace gloves. Her hair was once again free and held back only by a merigold ribbon, the same colour as her dress. Cassian wondered if she had a matching dress for each ribbon she wore, and how she could possibly have so many ribbons.

But as soon as Nesta came into view, Cassian forgot all about ribbons and the others present in the parlor. He could not understand how she looked more beautiful each time he saw her, and they had parted for less than a day. She wore a tawny gown with sleeves that reached her elbows and that had ruffles at their end, the rest of her arm bare.

Nesta Archeron wore no gloves.

That fact alone had Cassian’s heart beating harder.

“Brother, will you introduce us to your guests?” Georgiana said, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Of course, right away” clearing his throat and standing up, Cassian introduced the party of five, his sister clapping her hands and exclaiming in delight when she heard Gwyn’s name.

“Oh! I cannot believe I am meeting the prima donna of the year! It is an honour”

“Thank you” Gwyn blushed, still not used to all the attention.

“My brother Azriel is a big fan of your singing” Georgiana said with a sly smile, the only one who had noticed that her usually quiet brother had a ribbon of the same exact colour as the one in the singer’s hair tied around his black hat “He has been to nearly all of your shows if I reckon correctly.”

“I– You– I mean” Azriel stuttering was something so out of the ordinary that Cassian had to bite his knuckles to avoid laughing out loud.

“I am but a simple appreciator of the fine arts” Azriel said, avoiding Gwyn’s eyes.

“It pleases me to know someone so important has time to appreciate my music” the opera singer replied, her blush deeping.

“Please, have a seat” Cassian managed to say, still holding his laughter “My staff prepared some refreshments.”

They all obliged, Nesta sitting directly in front of him.

“I am tempted to steal your staff, sir” Emerie declared, her eyes shining when she spotted the strawberry tart.

“I will have to agree with Emerie this time” Balthazar said between bites of a ham sandwich “Your hospitality and service is the best I have seen”

Cassian’ staff had once again outdid themselves. He did not know how, but they had managed to assemble all of his guests favourite foods and drinks. Were they secretly part of his brother’s web of spies?

“I will pass the message to them. They will be very happy to hear that.” he said, going out of his way to pour Nesta a cup of peppermint tea.

“Thank you, your grace” she said, taking the cup from him, their fingers brushing.

Cassian thanked the Mother that Nesta did not wear gloves today. Little did he know it was all part of Emerie’s plan to get them together.

“So Lady Nesta is the reason you were mopping?” Georgiana asks him, hiding her smile behind her cup of tea.

“I beg your pardon” Cassian blurted out, glancing at the lady in question to make sure she had not heard the comment.

“You and Lady Nesta. Azriel and Miss Berdara” she threw a knowing glance at her other brother “Am I on the way to gaining two sisters?”

That last comment had both gentlemen spitting their drinks out.

“Careful brothers, the tea is quite hot” Georgiana said, gently blowing her own drink.

Cassian exchanged an exasperated glance with Azriel, imagining just how much more embarrassing situations his sister would put them through.

Thankfully, the rest of their tea time went uninterrupted. Cassian was really anxious to show them the rest of his home, apart from what was usually open to the public.

“Would you like to start the tour? It is a once in a lifetime chance to know all the secrets Pemberley has”

“Oh, do you have any secret passages? I always wondered if what they wrote in the books was true or just make believe” Gwyn said with an almost childlike gleam in her eyes.

“Only one way to know” Cassian answered, winking.

“Brother, may I show Mr. Oristian and Madame Emerie our stables?” Georgiana asked, and he could not help but wonder what she was planning “I take he will appreciate your fine breed horses, and I would like to request Madame Emerie to design me new riding clothes”

“I see no reason to object, as long as our guests agree with the decision” he replied.

“Glance at the General’s famous horses? Count me in” Balthazar said, having heard how special the General Commander’s horses were.

“What an amazing idea young lady! You’re very lucky I never go out without my sketch journal!” Emerie exclaimed in delight, having caught up on Georgiana’s plan “I shall make the most memorable clothes ever!”

“My brothers will be happy to pay any price for them, will you not dear brothers?” the young lady blinked innocently.

“Anything for you Georgie” Azriel said, already planning to send the bill to Rhsyand.

They promptly went their separate ways, Georgiana leading Balthazar and Emerie towards the stables, taking Emerie’s arms on hers like life long friends, conspiratory smiles in both their faces.

~•~

First stop, the library.

Cassian knew it was a common visiting spot, but it was shown briefly so the visitors would have time to do a tour of the whole state.

“Are the ladies prepared?” Cassian asked with suspense, his hand hovering on the doorknob.

Nesta and Gwyn nodded, and he opened the door with a flourish.

“I present you, Pemberley’s library”

The library in Pemberley had already been famous when Cassian acquired the state. Apparently, the previous owner had been so in love with his wife — which had a frail health and could not go out for too long — that he had built it for her as a gift. The lord sold the state after his wife passed away, the only request that the library was kept as it was. Cassian was secretly a romantic at heart, and had not only taken great care of the space since becoming its new owner, but also added his own books to the already big collection.

“It’s beautiful” Gwyn exclaimed, looking around, particularly intrigued by the painted ceiling, which portrayed scenes so beautiful they looked almost real to the touch.

Nesta was awfully quiet since he had opened the door, and he dared to steal a glance at her. But all thoughts that she had not liked the place went flying out of his head when he saw her expression.

For the first time, Nesta could not hide her emotions and expressions about what she was feeling. She had a hand over her heart, her breath knocked out her. When Mrs.Potts had shown them the place, it had been a rushed visit and she had not been able to really look at it.

But now she could not look away.

Nesta turned in circles, drinking it all in, from the floor to ceiling light brown shelves — stairs leaning on them to help reach the highest ones —  to the statues, maps and other decorations around the room.

Looked at the couches and tables distributed to accommodate the readers.

She blinked, trying desperately not to make a fool out of herself and cry. There were so many books, the smell of paper filling her lungs.

Gwyn and Azriel moved along the place, the first one eager to explore it and Cassian took the opportunity to bashfully stare at Nesta.

She looked the happiest he had ever seen her, not even daring to blink least she lost some important detail of the library.

“This is beautiful” she finally managed, turning around to see Cassian looking at her with so much adoration and some feeling she could not quite place in his eyes.

“I am glad you like it” he smiled at her, Nesta’s heart missing a beat “You may come here and read as many as you like whenever you are nearby.”

“I do not want to impose” she said.

“Nonsense” Cassian waved a hand, dismissing her worries “The library is quite lonely since I am most of the time away”

“That would be wonderful. I cannot thank you enough”

“Having a stroll near the garden with me would be enough payment” he offered, knowing he was testing his luck.

Cassian tried to forget how their last stroll in the garden had been like. He would not act as stupid as last time and jeopardize it all.

“Nesta! There are music books here!” Gwyn appeared before Nesta could answer him, clutching a book to her chest “I have been searching for this one for so long!”

“Miss Berdara was indeed very happy when she spotted it '' Azriel informed with a small smile, recalling how the singer had squealed in excitement.

Gwyn blushed, looking away from the gentleman beside her.

“Why don’t we move on with our tour and rest a little at the music room?” Cassian suggested “I have just bought a pianoforte that must be begging to be used”

“Azriel can accompany you, he is a well versed pianist” he added slyly, having seen how his brother was unusually flushed when close to the opera singer.

“You play?” Gwyn asked in surprise.

“No. I mean, yes but-” the Chief of the Royal Intelligence cleared his throat, his ears warming “I do play a bit, but not on the professional level.”

“How wonderful!” Nesta exclaimed “Why don’t you show Gwyn the music room? I am feeling quite hot, so Lord Cassian and I will step outside for a bit.”

Cassian could not believe his ears. Had Nesta Archeron truly accepted his offer?

“It is decided then! Please, show me the way Mr. Pianist” Gwyn said, taking Azriel by the arm before he could remember how to talk, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

The library door closed behind them, leaving Nesta and Cassian alone since their dreadful encounter at Feyre’s ball.

“Shall we then?” he said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Is there another route to the garden?” Nesta asked, furrowing her browns in confusion when Cassian walked away from the big oak door Gwyn and Azriel had exited the library by.

He gave her a boyish smile, full of mischief.

“Ready to find out if what I said about secret passages is true?”

Stopping in front of a normal looking shelf, he felt the wood until a clicking sound was heard and the shelf revealed itself to be actually a door that opened to reveal a staircase spiraling down.

“Lead the way” Nesta answered, chin held high as she walked in his direction.

~•~

The rain came out of nowhere. One minute Cassian was watching Nesta play with his hunting dogs —  who were in truth very sweet despite their rough and menacing appearance —  like the fool in love that he was and the next they were drenched down to their bones.

“There’s a greenhouse not too far!” he tried to say above the pouring rain “Come with me!”

Clasping their hands, Cassian quickly led them to take cover there, as they were too far from the main state.

He let a sigh of relief when he saw the greenhouse, taking no time opening the door and ushering Nesta in.

They could see the rain falling heavily outside through the glass panels, different kinds of flowers and herbs all around them, making it seem as if they were in a magic forest.

“That was a surprise” Cassian said “It has been a while since it rained this hard”

He looked at Nesta, water dripping from his hair and he found her staring at their still clasped hands.

“I am sorry” he exclaimed, dropping her hand even though his mind shouted at him to never let her go.

“Here, take my coat” Cassian added, putting it around her shoulders “I would not want to be the reason of you falling sick”

“T-thank you” Nesta said, momentarily distracted by the fact that Cassian’s white shirt had become see-through due to the rain.

Against her better wishes, her thoughts wandered back to the day she had seen him shirtless and dripping wet by the lake, the same funny feeling low in her stomach reappearing as she followed a droplet of water fall from his shoulder length hair and run down his neck.

Nesta was so distracted she froze in shock when he raised his hand, brushing her wet hair away from where it was sticking to her face. His fingers lingered on her skin — Nesta once again wondering how he could still be so warm despite the cold rain  — and she gasped, half from how weirdly attractive he looked and half from pain.

“You are hurt” Cassian quietly said, his fingers hovering above a small cut on her neck.

“It is just a scratch” she replied in the same voice tone, not wanting to break whatever was happening between them “A thorn must have scratched me when we passed by the bushes near the entrance”

They were improperly close, with Cassian looking down at her as he tilted her chin to let him better access the wound. The greenhouse was quiet, no sound but the rain falling outside filling the air.

“It is nothing” she assured him, her own hand coming up to close around his wrist “It does not even hurt that much.”

Nesta did not know how she was talking when even breathing seemed a too difficult task at the moment. She was hyper aware of where their skin was touching, of the heat she felt all over her body, goosebumps running down her arms when Cassian pressed his lips tenderly against her temple.

“You do not appear to have a fever” he murmured, his breath tickling her temple “But maybe it would be wiser to stay the night. I will send a carriage to get your things and your friends’ too. Alright?”

“Alright” Nesta breathless replied, the rain outside slowly turning into a mild drizzle.

Pemberley had just gained new residents.

How Cassian was going to survive living with Nesta for a short period of time was something that remained to be seen.

•

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[jasmine-the-fox]

Villain’s can be heroes too

This villain au request was made by IceWolf92 Let’s hope this is loved!

Jasmine never knew what it was like to be loved by someone, her parents left her when she was a pup due to her ninetails quirk, she never had a boyfriend because even though she was an omega she looked almost like an alpha.

No one said it was easy though...

So here she was... In Paris, in Caline Bustier’s class... Being bullied because Lila Rossi claims she’s a bully. It’s hard to be honest, she was always nice towards others so why is she believed to be a bully? Did she say something wrong? Did she upset someone? Who really knows?

Right now she and her classmates were getting ready for there week long trip to Japan, it was to be a big thing because they would meet some pro heroes in person... But Jasmine was more worried about the villains that could be watching them and then plan to kidnap them at some point in the week to harm them or worse... Like Nitro for example.

Nitro was a mysterious villain with an explosion quirk, he creates an imitation to nitroglycerin from the sweat coming from his hands and he creates explosions from that, he was dangerous, most heroes that try to go after him get burnt pretty badly or are forced to retired because of there injuries... To there luck no one was killed just yet, Lila loved joking about heroes arresting her or villains killing her... She once joked about Nitro raping her.

She actually held in her vomit until she was home that day...

Even so, Jasmine did her best to stay positive, she was pretty lucky so far, she wasn’t seated anywhere near Lila who complained during the whole flight about her seat placement, she got her bags early so Lila didn’t get the chance to mess with them or anything, and she was in the bus before Lila could try to make them leave early, she laid in her bed with a sigh of relief that Lila failed to mess with her... I mean sure the class glared at her but she safely got to the hotel without a problem.

She didn’t even care that someone was watching her from outside anymore...

Nitro aka Katsuki Bakugo was interested in Jasmine since he saw her enter the bus at the airport, he had just returned from a trip in Peru for a money deal that he tricked the others by destroying everything so he could get all the money, so with a huge sum of money and a cute omega he now wanted for himself... Why not try and court her?

So at first he leaves her gifts that she would quickly find and enjoy, at the same time he observed the class... And discovered dark and vile things that was happening with that class to Jasmine... That should be stopped right now, he decided that he needed to get Jasmine out of that class and fast.

Which happened much too fast in his opinion...

It was the day that the class decided to go to the mall for some shopping, Lila was once again lying about herself which was keeping the classes attention on herself while Jasmine would look in some stores for things she might like to buy, all of a sudden people began to run and scream, a small group of villains decided to go to the mall and rob some stores... And the class? Well they became there hostages to get more money, jewelry, shoes, games and clothes among other things.

Nitro was pissed when he got there, one of the villains was surprised to see him and asks about it, the class is freaking out while Lila’s followers get mad as they put the blame on Jasmine, they were certain that she was doing all of this to scare them, Nitro is quiet as he walks over towards the class... And grabs Jasmine before leaving the mall in silence.

The omega has no words at the moment, she is just... Confused as to why she was kidnapped by Nitro today, he set her inside what she believed was his home in a nest that he must have built as he then walks away to what she believes to be the bathroom, she tried to get around the place... But the nest was scented by him and it was making it hard for her to focus, she then realised that he was courting her and that the gifts she found were from him.

Katsuki left the bathroom changed out of his Nitro gear to find Jasmine still in the nest trembling in excitement, he slowly walks over to the nest and then crouches down “My name is Katsuki Bakugo... I have been courting you for a while now and I would like to know if you would allow me to continue courting you” he explained softly which as a result made her purr out in joy, he smiled as he could understand that she accepted his courting.

Meanwhile...

Caline was confused, it had been a few hours since the incident at the mall and the police have yet to find Jasmine, she was certain that it was all a joke she had planned out but that made the police yell at her for thinking that a minor could plan an event like that, her students at the same time have begun to worry about Jasmine and her life... No longer focused on Lila’s latest lie at all, so it never occurred to them that those strange gifts she found were from Nitro.

Jasmine on the other hand... Loves her time to bond with Katsuki, they got to know one another better than before... Heck, not even her friends knew what Katsuki was being told about her right now, she was loving her time with Katsuki and the many gifts he got her... Enough that she agreed to be his claimed omega, he was actually very much excited to claim her... But she needs to return to her classmates even if he hates the idea of her going back to them.

Slowly the week ended... This means Katsuki needs to bring her back to her class now, so he carries her out of his home and to a roof far from his home so a hero can take her back to the police station to be looked over and then questioned, as she’s being questioned Caline arrives with her students as the police called her to give her the good news, to her relief she wasn’t harmed so they were able to go back to Paris without a problem.

They just had no idea that Nitro was watching them the whole time they headed for the airport... Glaring...

Lila would still try to spin the mall event to blame Jasmine but Caline shut her down, she still remembered what the police told her when she told them what Lila claimed at the time, as a result Lila was ignored at they all returned to there homes, when Jasmine arrived home, she focused on all of the courting gifts Katsuki gifted her that he bought while in disguise, things were peaceful after the whole thing in Japan for about two weeks... Before a new gift appeared at her door.

It was a box, inside she was quickly blinded for a second by her alpha’s scent on the scarf he gifted her, she purred in happiness at the gift as she slipped it on and then went to school... All the while Katsuki watched her with a gentle smile, the alpha had actually planned to go to Paris a little after she returned to continue courting her in secret... And also to watch her classmates, he discovered that some still believe in Lila while the rest no longer believes her but haven’t said sorry to Jasmine.

As time continued on, a routine was made between the alpha and omega, everyday, Jasmine would find a gift from her alpha and would use it each time, he would see this and would quietly croon out to her even if she doesn’t hear him, Lila still tries to bully his omega but he always secretly grabbed the liar and stops her plans by scaring her in all kinds of ways each day she tries... He loves the fearful expression she makes each time he grabs her.

Everynight, Jasmine would try to see Katsuki, this hurt him badly seeing her try to locate him, fail and then go home sad that she wasn’t able to see him again... But he just wasn’t ready for them to be together again. One day, Lila was found out, she was so confused on how she was uncovered for her lies because she was so good at hiding her tracks from all of her actions and lies... And she was still uncovered somehow, her mother lost it when she saw all of the lawsuits all against her daughter.

She didn’t care that her daughter was already being grabbed by the police to take her to the station for questions... She simply began yelling at her daughter for what she’s costing them right now, she is even more furious when her daughter tries to put the blame on Jasmine and in front of a crowd bullies Jasmine some more, months go by before the investigation at the school is over, Lila is expelled and deported back to Italy while some who followed and joined her in bullying Jasmine were suspended... But the whole class had to get a therapist.

But even after all of that... None of them apologized to her, the school never even tried to see if they had which enraged Katsuki greatly, actually... The class believed that Jasmine needs to apologize to them, they all believed to have been innocent and that Jasmine had done something wrong to them. And because of the fact nothing was being fixed... Katsuki decided that enough was enough, if no one was going to try and fix anything that was happening to his omega... Then he would do something about it instead.

Bit by bit, Katsuki began to reveal himself in Paris... But also secretly informed Jasmine about it all, at first he would do a little crime and then he would attack one of her classmates and an adult who abandoned her in the end, as a result Japan sent a few pro heroes to Paris to protect Jasmine as they and the school believed he came for Jasmine... Which they weren’t wrong about, the pro heroes were to be on standby but close to the omega until Nitro was captured, it sucked because not only was Jasmine unable to get anymore gifts from her alpha... But pro heroes who are alpha’s were flirting with her.

This angered her alpha greatly...

A month later... Jasmine has gone missing, pro heroes investigate but can’t find anything strange in her home... Not that they dug deep into her home, so they never saw the huge amount of clothes and items that were gone... Or notice the note she left behind explaining everything that happened to her in Japan, the flirting pro heroes or the love she and Katsuki have for each-other.

It didn’t even matter if they noticed all of that since they were too late, they all missed her and Katsuki getting on there plane, or that her money was successfully transferred to another account. Years go by and Jasmine was now married to Katsuki as a Bakugo living in a gorgeous home he built years ago for them, he had stopped working on his garden to play with there two pups for a bit while she was relaxing in her chair with a hand on her round stomach as she carried there twins... She smiles as she gets up to join them even with the limit from carrying the twins.

Katsuki while a villain... Was her hero.

[jaycewrites-192000]

Growl: Chapter 12

Warnings: None Tag List: @theravencawsatmidnight @etroman @kaariqueen

Today was the day, the day where Seijoh would face off aginst Kaisei Academy, a well known school with a very skilled Volleyball team. They were so good in fact, that they would become an obstacle for Aoba Johsei if not taken down a peg. And that's why Seijoh was here today, to show Kaisei Academy that they were the best! Right now, each team were having a team meeting before the game starts. While Seijoh were confident in their skills, there was still a hint of tension in the air.

"Alright guys, this is it." Oikawa started, as the captain it was his job to get his team hyped and ready for the match. But it was also his job to restore their confidence, make them feel like they could do anything if they really put their whole hearts and souls into it. "We're going to show those Kaisei jerks just who they're up against. We are Seijoh, we back down to no one! The moment we step onto that court, we show no mercy! Kaisei and every other team that challenges us will known that our team is nothing to mocked or looked down upon. I believe in all you, I know we can win this! Now, let's show them what we go!" The teamed collectively gave a frim, "Right!" back to their captain.

"But before we do, L/n-Chan has something she would like to say to everyone." Oikawa stepped aside for Y/n, who approached the team nervously. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore their eyes as she spoke. "I-I know things have been a little weird recently, I haven't stepped up as a manager like I promised I would. I gave you all my word and then I failed to make good on it, and for that I'm very sorry." She bows her head. "But, from now on, I'll be there for each and every one of you. I'll be here for this team like I should, I'll give you all my best, and I'll try harder every single day. Because that's what a manager does." She continued.

"Starting from now, you can rely on me. And I'll rely on you guys to win this match and many more like this." She gives the team a warm smile. "Good luck!" The team all felt their hearts flutter at her kind words. It was nice having a girl, a cute girl at that, cheer them on. But it was even nicer when she was this caring and appreciative of them. But secretly, Y/n would be cheering on Kyotani the most, and he knew that.

The bell that would signify the beginning of the match was blown. "Now go out there and win!" Y/n tells them. "Yeah!" The team says in unison as they approach the court.

The game was near it's end, and the score was tied, one more point was all that was needed in order to win this game. Things were starting to look slim for Seijoh, tension was clear in their movements. They were just as unsure as Y/n, who was on the sidelines watching with bated breath. She never knew volleyball could get so intense, she never understood why there was so much passion put into each match. But now she understood, she understood what it meant to be a part of the team, what it meant to have your teammates backs, and what it meant to support them all every step of the way.

The crowd watched as the ball was sent up into the air, Kyotani was the closest person to it. It was all up to him, to make that final hit, and win the game...

Kyotani took a running start, and just as he jumped he heard the encouragement that made him forget any trace of doubt in his mind. "Go for it Ken!!" Y/n cheered over the crowed. Kyotani yelled fiercely as he hit the ball with every ounce of strength he had. It swooshed over the net, and passed the opposite team member's head, right onto the floor.

The whole gym went quiet, as the ref made the final call...The final whistle was blown...Seijoh, had won!

The gym filled with the cheers from the crowd, Y/n included. She ran to the team who was currently celebrating their victory. She tackled Kyotani in a tight hug, he lifted her up and spun her around. "You all did it! You won!" Y/n kissed his forehead. "Of course we did! We're Seijoh!" Oikawa exclaims happily. "You guys were amazing! Congratulations!" Y/n tells them with a big smile. With a few more celebratory words, the two teams gathered at each side of the court, and thanked each other for the match.

At the end of the day, the whole team decided to go out for a nice dinner to celebrate. And all at the cost of their oh so wonderful captain Oikawa, who was currently regretting that decision. Each person raised their glass to make a toast. "Here's to another victory for Seijoh!" Oikawa starts. "You all worked hard out there today, I say this win was well deserved." The teamed cheered in agreement. "And, I would like to thank Y/n for becoming part of the team." His kind words made her blush. "Don't think I didn't hear you cheering for Mad-Dog out there." He winked. "Speaking of, congrats again on your relationship! Here's to Y/n and Mad-Dog! May they have a wonderful life, and many beautiful children!"

Y/n and Kyotani turned red, silently cursing their captain. "Oi, stop embarrassing them." Iwaizumi elbowed him. Y/n glanced over at Kyotani and smiled softly. As embarrassing as Oikawa's words were, she hoped for the same. That Kyotani and herself would stay together for a very long time, and maybe, even have a kid or two. Not now obviously! But at some point, it would be nice. Kyotani noticed her gaze,  and discreetly held her hand under the table, so the others couldn't see. Y/n rubbed her thumb over his hand gently, as a silent, "I love you too."

After a night of age appropriate drinking, eating, laughing, and just enjoying each other's company, it was time each team member made their way home. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kyotani and Y/n were the last to go. "Be safe on your way back." Iwaizumi tells them. "We will. Thanks again you guys. I had a lot of fun tonight." Y/n says appreciatively. "Anytime Y/n. Don't forget to show up for practice tomorrow you two." Oikawa waves as he walked side by side with Iwaizumi. "Goodnight." Y/n waved before turning to Kyotani.

"You ready?" He asked, reaching for her hand. Y/n nods and takes it with her own, they then walked their way back home. "You were awesome out there Ken." Y/n says as she snuggles into his arm. "Was I?" Kyotani's cheeks heat up. "Yeah, you were intense before, but during that game, you were something completely different. You were...you were just so amazing! I can't wait for the next game." Y/n says happily. Kyotani grinned, he really liked that Y/n was warming up to volleyball. Even gaining the same love he had for it since he was a kid.

It just made his love for her grow even more. "Y/n?" Y/n looked up at him with a hum. Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on her own. It didn't take her long to relax into the kiss and return it. She sighed breathlessly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. She felt Kyotani's arms snake around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. The two pulled apart, needing air, before locking eyes with each other.

All that the two could ponder in this very moment was, 'how did I get so lucky?'. Kyotani reached up and moved a stray lock of hair from her face, then gently strokes her cheek. "I love you so much Y/n." He speaks softly. Y/n smiled and leaned into his touch. "I love you too Ken, so very, very much." The two stayed in each other's embrace for a bit longer before continuing on their way, hand in hand.

It was strange, at first glance, you would wonder why Y/n would want to be with someone like Kyotani. He could come across as just another cruel delinquent, but underneath all that was a misunderstood,  kind, and gentle person that Y/n loved with all her heart. She couldn't have asked for anyone better, and it was the same for Kyotani. He never thought anyone could love him for who he was, and yet, here Y/n was. Willing to love him with everything she had. He would make sure to never forget the kindness she had shown him, and the love that she held only for him.

He would make sure to care for her, and love her like it was his final days. He would never let her slip away so easy.

And to think, all this started...with a growl...

The End

Eight years had gone by since that day, and every since then, Y/n and Kyotani had stayed together, their relationship as strong as it was since they first started dating. Their love for volleyball had never went away, as Kyotani was now  a V. League Division 2 player. He played on a team called the Sendai Frogs. Y/n, while not a manager anymore, worked her dream job as a (career/occupation). Still she would always go to his games and cheer him on, he started to call her his own personal cheerleader.

Many changes had occurred in their life, they graduated high school, got jobs, their own home, and now, Y/n and Kyotani were expecting a new addition to their little family. It wouldn't be long now before the bundle of joy would arrive, less than a month in fact. It was quite the shock when they both found out that they would be having not one, but two babies. Twins, one girl and one boy.

And of course when Oikawa found out, he was more than excited. Too excited. Like he was the one having the baby. He chipped in and bought all sorts of baby clothes, mountains of diapers, and two very expensive cribs for the babies. Iwaizumi had to take charge and hold onto his idiotic husband's credit card for a while. He was going to cause them to go broke all on baby items! Don't get him wrong, he was more than happy for Y/n and Kyotani, and couldn't wait to meet the babies when they arrived. But seriously, Oikawa was going to cause them to go bankrupted.

Another bittersweet change was that Killer, Kyotani's dog had passed away of old age two years ago. It left Kyotani devastated, he loved Killer, and he was gone. Y/n was just as sad, Killer was like family to them both. It just felt so empty without him around, so Y/n came up with an idea. She knew no dog could ever replace Killer, but she gifted Kyotani with a Shiba puppy on his birthday. When Kyotani started to cry, she figured she had done something wrong. But quite the opposite, Kyotani loved the new puppy. He even named him Killer Jr.

So life was pretty good. Kyotani and Y/n were still happy and in love, expecting twins, and had a loyal companion. What more could they ask for?

Kyotani held Y/n in his arms, gently stroking her pregnant belly, chuckling whenever he would feel his children kick at him. Killer Jr. was laying across her legs, staying alert for anyone who would try and harm his owners. Y/n looked up at her husband, his eyes were closed and a warm smile across his face. Her eyes trailed to the wall in front of them, above their TV was his old jersey from back in high school. Number 16. His number, proudly displayed for all to see.

On the TV stand were pictures of Y/n and Kyotani from over the years. When they graduated, when they both got wasted at that collage party she dragged him to, when they first moved into their shared home. She figured there was room for one more. "Ken?" Y/n says softly, Kyotani hummed. "Can you grab the camera for me?" She asks. Kyotani sits up right. "Why?" He asked as he stood up from the couch. "I want to take a picture of us. You can never have too many happy memories."

Kyotani searched around for a bit before finding the camera. He hurried back over and snuggled up to Y/n again and handing her the camera. She raised it up high and kissed his cheek, Killer Jr. walked over and laid in Kyotani's lap. The camera clicked and flashed, Y/n pulled away and took a look at the picture. "Perfect." She smiled. Kyotani chuckled and pet Killer Jr.'s head. "Wanted to be in it too bud?" Killer Jr. barked and licked his hand.

"You're so photogenic buddy." Y/n giggled. "He should be a dog model-oh!" Y/n put her hand on her stomach. "That was uh...a big kick." Kyotani puts his hand on hers. "You ok?" He asked. "Yes, it was just-Ah! Ooookay...um...Ken? I think our babies want to be free." Kyotani's eyes widened. "N-now...?" Kyotani mutters. "Yep." Y/n nods. "Now!?" Kyotani exclaims. "Yes now Ken!" Y/n flinches at another harsh kick. Kyotani jumped up and quickly grabbed his keys.

He ran back over and helped Y/n up and got her out the door and into the car and rush to the hospital.

It was hectic at first, but after hours of labor the twins had finally made their way into the world. Y/n held her two babies close to her chest, even drenched in sweat and exhausted Kyotani still found her beautiful. His knees nearly gave in at the sight of her and his two children. He kneeled down next to the bed. "They're so...small." It was all he could say. Y/n smiled and kissed her babies' heads. "Yeah..."

The door to the room opened wide, no other than Oikawa himself strode in. "I came as soon as I heard!" Iwaizumi followed in after. "This is a hospital, tone it down!" He hissed. "Ohhh, let me see." Oikawa walked over to the other side of the bed. He teared up at the sight of them. "What are their names?" He asked. Y/n looked down at the girl. "This one is Yui." She looked down at the boy. "And this one is Ryu."

(Sorry if they're bad, I'm not creative when it comes to names.)

"They're so precious." Oikawa whines. Iwaizumi walks over with a smile. "Congrats you too. They're beautiful." Y/n and Kyotani thanks them before turning their attention back to their kids.

"Yui and Ryu...Welcome to the world."

Previous | Completed

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 6

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - The Truth Behind the Scenes

Yue Wuhuan thought that his eyes would be gouged out by Xianzun soon, and he was shaking from fear.

After Song Qingshi checked him over, he was puzzled: "Are you cold?"

Yue Wuhuan shook his head stiffly.

"If your eyes are not uncomfortable, we can treat them later." Song Qingshi judged the injuries according to its severity. He returned to the table and took off his gloves, picked up the spirit bead, and walked back over. "I found a white powdery medicine around the edges of your nails. After a preliminary inspection, I determined that it contained Deer Spring Grass and Confusion Scented Flowers, which have a strong aphrodisiac effect. In addition, I also found plant ingredients in the incense on your clothes and feather skirt attracts cats. This is the reason why the demon tiger attacked you at the banquet."

He found out. . .

Yue Wuhuan thought in despair.

This was the loophole that he had found when searching for the edge of the Acacia Seal's control. Slaves can't kill themselves, slaves must obey their master's every command. But it was also the master that was happy to see the slave perform an unbearable performance, and was also happy to see the slave played with until death.

All he was able to get were aphrodisiacs that he extracted from psychedelic ingredients. He refined it greatly to make it more likely for animals to lose their sanity.

Therefore, he calculated the time and wrapped the medicine in wax pills to delay the onset of the drugs in the demon tiger's body, and then prepared the smell on his body to attract the monsters. After the atmosphere on the court reached its peak, the demon tiger rushed out under the stimulation of the drugs. He was definitely going to be chosen as its prey. He pretended to be absent after taking the aphrodisiac and took the initiative to step forward. The guests thought it was a show arranged by Jin FeiRen and applauded.

Jin FeiRen was far too proud to do anything and had already found a new favourite anyways. He would never interfere with the entertainment of his guests. Even a little hesitation could mean the demon tiger would completely lose control and tear the guests to pieces.

Yue Wuhuan carried out this plan with the determination to die, and never thought that the truth revealed because he survived.

In Golden Phoenix Manor, if a slave was found to show signs of disobedience, he would be severely punished. What's more, what he did was calculated something behind his master's back, which was absolutely against the rules. . . But what about this?

Yue Wuhuan’s flustered heart gradually calmed down and he recalled that when he first became a slave, because he was unwilling to yield and his wood-type spiritual root was suitable for a speedy recovery, he suffered all the humiliation that the world could inflict under the control of Acacia Seal. He was forced to endure all kinds of unbearable postures, forced to admit that he was more lecherous than the most lecherous flower girl in the brothel; because the beasts thought that he never reacted sufficiently during sex, they used countless kinds of drugs to transform him into having a very sensitive physique until even the friction of ordinary cloth will make him extremely uncomfortable.

Every time he thought that he reached the limit of this hell, he would always see that hell went so much deeper. Finally, after realizing that his despair and resistance would only make those people happier, he gave up these meaningless struggles as well of the idea of getting rid of the Acacia Seal.

His body was so dirty that he just wanted to destroy it. . .

God knows that when the demon tiger rushed forward to tear his body apart, he didn't feel any pain, only utter bliss.

Whether it's plucking out his eyes or cutting off his limbs to make him into medicine, whether it's being thrown into a brothel and toyed with by thousands of people, or thrown to a beast for fun. There wouldn't be any punishment in this world that would make him feel pain.

Yue Wuhuan narrowed his smile and stopped pretending. He looked at the spirit bead coldly and provoked disrespectfully, "Now that you know, what are you going to do?"

Song Qingshi declared with certainty: "Someone wanted to harm you!"

Yue Wuhuan failed in his provocation, and almost missed a breath, thinking that he had misheard: "What?"

Song Qingshi felt that his reasoning was sound. Although he didn't read novels very much, his senior sisters said that the protagonists were good people since the bad guys acting as the protagonist couldn't pass domestic publication censorship. The system's introduction mentioned that the protagonist suffered a miserable fate. These injuries now must also be related to the original plot.

Based on the social news he had read, 80% of the people in Golden Phoenix Manor were jealous of the protagonist's beauty and favour, and want to destroy him. They must have used medicine on his body and nails! So after careful consideration, Song 'Holmes' Qingshi concluded: "I suspect that it must have been the person who dressed you that day. I will find the murderer later and give you justice."

"No." Yue Wuhuan felt that the corners of his mouth were twitching. He didn't believe that the great Xianzun could be so stupid, but the other party seemed to be very serious about making him believe that he was stupid. He didn't know what expression to put on. Finally, he answered stiffly, "There's no need. . ."

When Song Qingshi saw this kindness, he was more sure about his guess of the protagonist. He put the spirit bead into Yue Wuhuan's hands: "This thing belongs to you, so you can put it away."

Yue Wuhuan realized that the spirit bead had not been marked with new spiritual thoughts, and he was dumbfounded.

"I studied this stuff," Song Qingshi explained, "The Acacia Seal involves a spell which is decently complicated. Medicine King's Valley has no way to solve the curse. I have asked the valley servant to go to the Night Rain Pavillion to offer a reward. The master of Night Rain Pavillion said that, although the method of explaining spells is not expensive, it's rare, and it will take some time to hear back."

Yue Wuhuan was stunned for a long time after listening, and asked in a quiet voice: "What price do I need to pay?"

Song Qingshi had been helped by many people, and no one has ever asked him for something in return. He has also helped many people and has never asked for repayment.

In his eyes, the Acacia Seal is a sin against basic human rights. It was the source of the protagonist's suffering is, like the shackles on the feet of a bird. After saving the bird, it is a matter of course to untie the shackles, and it was not worth mentioning.

So he replied casually: "You can focus on recovering and just get well with peace of mind."

The valley servant came to report that the medicine boiling in the yard was almost ready.

Song Qingshi hurriedly went out to check, lest the effect of the medicine would not achieve its desired effect.

Yue Wuhuan looked in disbelief at the spirit bead in his hand, and his noisy thoughts became more confused.

In the world he knew, things that don’t cost anything were the most expensive. . .

Medicine Master Xianzun was even more well-known in the cultivation world for being cold-blooded and cruel. He never knew the meaning of the word 'mercy'. What did he want from him? His body? His life? Or what about his soul? Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time, and couldn't help but chuckle. He tightly grasped the spirit bead in his hand, determined to make a desperate move. If it meant he could get rid of the shackles, he would do anything, even if he had to sell his soul to the devil. . .

When Yue Wuhuan saw Song Qingshi bringing the medicine in, he pondered for a moment about Song Qingshi's impression of him and what he wanted from him. His expression quickly switched to a well-behaved and weak look. He carefully raised his eyes and glanced at him secretly, showing just the right amount of gratitude, leaving himself at the mercy of Song Qingshi's treatment.

This patient was super obedient! He did whatever the doctor told him to do. No matter how disgusting the medicine tasted, he would drink it in one sip. No matter how painful or irritating the needle was, he wouldn't make a sound! He would also thank the doctor in a gentle voice. Song Qingshi took care of him with a sense of accomplishment. He hoped all the patients in the world could be as well behaved as him.

The physical regenerative skills of the wood spirit root were amazing, and the wound on the shoulder of Wuhuan would scab over in five days.

After Song Qingshi checked him over, he was allowed to get out of bed. He was ordered to spend more time in the sun and Song Qingshi proceeded to prepare for the next treatment.

The Medicine Master, whether it was the original body or the current Song Qingshi, does not care much about what he wore. Therefore, the Medicine Master rarely had shark silk or ice silk. The hospital gowns prepared by the valley servants were made of ordinary cotton, which was comfortable for ordinary people, but Yue Wuhuan felt uncomfortable with the friction of the fabric, so he dared not stray too far from the palace. He only took a few steps then stopped.

At night, Song Qingshi noticed that he was walking strangely, so he went to check on him. He didn't expect the slight touch to his collarbone. He hadn't gone down yet and he was still making a fool of himself.

Yue Wuhuan looked at Song Qingshi's stunned expression and those clear eyes that held no evil intentions. The shame that hadn't appeared for a long time came out. He couldn't help avoiding those gentle hands and curled up into the dark corner.

The contrast between purity and sex, clean and dirty, brought out the unbearable reality.

Yue Wuhuan repeated the truths he learned a long time ago in his heart over and over again.

Even if the Acacia Seal was lifted, he couldn't erase the past. . .

Song Qingshi pulled his hand back in embarrassment. He looked at the person hiding in the dark, opening his mouth, not knowing what to say.

Yue Wuhuan quickly realized that what he did was wrong. The other party had long known that he was not a clean person, and it would only be more embarrassing to try and cover it up. He quickly collected himself, and his figure slowly unfolded from the dark depths.

When he smiled and raised his eyes to look at Song Qingshi, there was a thick lust in his eyes. He licked his lips, put his hand on his belt, and said the shameful words that he was used to: "It's so hot, Xianzun wants to see look at this slave's body?"

Rather than letting someone discover he was embarrassed by his body, he would rather take the initiative to show the embarrassment. No matter what kind of contempt and humiliation he endured, as long as he convinced himself that he was a shameless bastard, his heart wouldn't be sad.

Song Qingshi woke up to what was happening before he started to strip off his clothes. He rapidly lowered all the curtains to block the spring scenery in the room.

Yue Wuhuan's ambiguous voice stopped abruptly.

Song Qingshi calmly said: "It's too late, the patient needs to rest."

Yue Wuhuan sat blankly on the bed, watching the faint figure outside the bed's canopy putting out the luminous beads, and then lighting the incense burner. The faint medicinal scent mixed with the smell of agarwood swept over, letting his feverish body gradually cool down. He slowly lay down, curling up again in the lonely darkness.

He suddenly realized that no one would be ravishing him tonight. There was no need to speak disgusting words, let alone force himself to flatter. There was no messy smell in the air, only the unspeakable clean air, which made his always vigilant mind begin to grow dizzy. His eyelids could not stay open, and he dragged into his dreamland.

There was no hell in this dream, only the fragrance of the magnolia tree outside his childhood bedroom window. . .

His body gradually relaxed and he immersed himself in this sweet dream that he hadn't experience for such a long time.

. . .

Song Qingshi stood silently outside the door for a long time, lost in his thought.

Once he was sure that Peaceful Soul Fragrance had played its role, he went back in. Holding the luminous beads, he gently opened the curtain, sat on the side of the bed, and looked at the various problems hidden in this scarred body again with his spiritual thoughts.

After a while, he withdrew his thoughts and quietly looked at Yue Wuhuan’s face. His eyes were clenched shut, and the completely relaxed youth's charming attitude had faded away. He was like a sleeping wild cat with his claws sheathed. Letting his vigilance fade away, as if forgetting the pain he had suffered and showing his true colours.

Freedom, pride, stubbornness. . .

His life should never have been what it was now.

Song Qingshi gently pulled the blanket around him. He brushed his tousled long hair carefully behind his ears, and promised in a low voice:

"I will heal you."

[inyourfantasyfanfics]

Arya Stark x Fem!Reader

"Breath of Fresh Air"

*SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8*

It was no easy task for Arya to leave Winterfell after she had just defeated the Night King. Many eyes were on her, after she trained so long to disappear it was slightly unsettling for so many people to seek her out. 

She gathered what she would need to survive trying to kill Cersei and spotted Sandor setting his saddle on a horse, 

'maybe the road won't be so bad with some unexpected company' the fiery girl thought to herself. 

But as Arya had spotted an old friend so had y/n and she was more than a bit saddened to see the woman she admired for so long, packing and ready to leave.

"Arya?" Y/n said quietly as if she was going to startle her long time friend. Arya's gaze fell upon y/n and for a moment she let herself feel a little bit of remorse for wanting to leave. 

"You want to leave don't you?" Y/n said with a bit more confidence trying not to let her voice give away her worry, yet her voice still failed her and she sounded a little more weak than she wanted to. 

"I'm going to kill Cersei, you know I have to." Arya stated more than said. Y/n nodded, she knew how much her friend had changed since she left for Kings landing so many years ago. So had she, y/n studied medicine becoming a makeshift nurse in the north, she had seen her share of blood throughout the years but probably not as much as her companion that stood before her. She thought for a moment before letting the next few words slip from her mouth...

"I know you do. That's why I will want to go with you." Arya paused for a moment considering it, but a wave of everything that could ever go wrong washed over her. 

She knew y/n was by no means weak, when they were children her and y/n would sword fight in the woods with sticks. Arya accidentally hit y/n square in the mouth knocking out a baby tooth. Much to Arya's worried crys y/n couldn't control her laughter even when she was bleeding from the mouth. Oh how they both got in a good deal of trouble that day..

Turning away slightly from y/n, Arya faintly smiled at the childhood memory. Her smile quickly faded and became somber. "You know I can't let you do that. I may never even come back.." Arya trailed off.

Y/n expected this answer and nodded. She had anticipated this but it secretly wouldn't really stop her. Both girls turned to each other and a familiar feeling washed over them. 

Y/n knew it was looked down upon to love another woman, many suspected she was one for the same gender due to her refusal of all men who have tried to court her in the past. She knew that she had been in love with Arya and the feeling grew once they were reunited. Contrary to y/n, Arya didn't know what to make of this feeling. It wasn't by any means what she felt for Gendry, her small crush. It was much stronger. In her Younger years she thought she was just jealous of y/n, now she was just left confused. 

Y/n moved forward and cautiously wrapped her arms above Arya's strong shoulders and lightly rested her cheek on Aryas. With a deep breath Arya wrapped her sore and aching arms from the fight only days earlier, around her confusing childhood friend.

Y/n pulled away as she felt her eyes start to burn with tears. Quickly she turned to the door and paused at the frame to utter a "Be safe, please." Y/n felt her heart ache and her stomach churning as she walked away.

The night after Arya left Y/n snuck a horse out of Winterfell and set course for Kings Landing. Y/n knew deep down she just had to follow after Arya or she may regret it for the rest of her days.  

It was a harsh ride but once y/n got to Kings Landing the gates were closed she mentally cursed heavier than the men of the night's watch. She saw the dragon and heard the faint yells of confused men and women on the other side of the wall. soon enough she didn't feel so horrible as the bells rang

this could mean peace, Arya wouldn't have to risk her life if she already hadn't, the thought gave y/n a little bit of hope but the feeling soon died where it arose and only got worse as Denarys’s dragon roared and blasts of fire erupted over the wall, the girl turned her horse and rode from the wall till she made her way onto a small hill to get a better feel for what could possibly be happening and to get a sense of the new danger that may be arising.

What felt like hours y/n could only see the city crumble with fire from a distance. Smaller spots erupted with green flames. She felt her mouth dry and her eyes stung once she blinked; she had been staring for long enough for it to hurt. Her body felt numb as she clamered off her horse.. she could only hear screams, horrific screams of children calling out for their mothers and vise versa, the pained screams of men being stabbed, slashed and possibly much worse. innocence being burned alive was apparent through the stench and horrific screams. This is what filled y/n's senses, slowly but frantically the gates were thrown open and the people of King's Landing poured out, but they were only small amounts of people compared to the vast population of King's Landing. Y/n's legs started moving without her fully acknowledging it, she rushed into the crowd of bloody, burned and dirt covered crowds. As more filed out of the gates. She rushed to many people's aid, y/n carried basic medical supplies with her from the trip to Kings Landing. But despite her efforts she saw many die as she searched for something, anything that could possibly help.

Sweaty, clothes covered in blood and out of breath, y/n stood and slowly walked towards the quieting city gates she saw northern soldiers and Dothraki exit the city looking just as bad as the citizens who survived. They lined themselves a ways out of the city. Y/n's heart pounded and hurt as her eyes frantically searched for Arya, but had no avail.  

Arya who had just seen the worst of it all, slowly rode out of the city on a surviving horse her lungs burned and eyes were fogged and dirt and blood covered her whole body, she was aching and in massive pain, suffering from many head traumas, but somehow she lived. And this was something she had never expected. Although she didn't get to kill Cersei herself she knew that the so called queen could have never survived the fall of Kings Landing. So she made her way out of the city.

Still outside of the walls Y/n was gaining more anxiety by the minute as her eyes locked with Jon's, concern grown in both of their faces, they made there way to each other

'What are you doing here??'

'Where is Arya??'

Both of them said simultaneously

"Arya is here?" Jon said with more worry in his voice than before. Y/n's stomach dropped, her chest heaved as she ran a shaky hand through her disheveled hair, and looked around catching glimpse of a figure covered in greyish white ash. Without completely thinking she ran towards them leaving a more than worried Jon behind her

"Arya!" Y/n called rather breathlessly as the stress of laboring hours took a toll on her. Hearing her name being called through the ringing of Arya's ears she looked to the source and a welling of to many emotions spilled over once her eyes locked on to Y/ns distressed figure running to her in the distance, and she stumbled off of her horse trying to run yet limping at the same time suddenly everything made sense to her, she loved y/n she felt nothing but breathtaking relief, pain, grief and...love.

The two met practically falling into each other on contact. Both landing their knees y/n broke down and let her tears that had been held back for so long fall, Arya breathing so heavily was desperately holding onto the girl she loved for so long like she would somehow disappear. After everything holding on to y/n was like, a much desired and needed.. Spark? Fire? She couldn't think of the right words for the experience but she didn't care.

The weeks that followed the two didn't really need to say that they loved each other. both knew exactly how each other felt the moment they embraced outside Kings Landing. Y/n knew once Arya said she wanted to sail west that there would be no debating on whether she would stay behind. Arya didn't try to either, both were inseparable.

On the ship ready to set sail Arya looked to Y/n who was looking out at sea next to her. 

"Don't stare too hard you might knock me off the boat" y/n said jokingly with a small chuckle looking back at Arya who then smiled a genuine smile, leaning in their lips connected. It didn't feel like fireworks or anything super extravagant but no less important, as they kissed Arya finally found the words to describe the feeling she had after Kings Landing, y/n was like...

A breath of fresh air.

[for-i-am-dying-of-such-love]

a prelude (...the wanting comes in waves...)

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves! I’ve been working on this fic for a week or two now, and I was hoping it would be finished in time for today. Only, it’s not quite there yet. Buuuuuuuuuuuut, I was really tied to the idea of sharing something with you, so I’m going to post the first half of it here for you to enjoy while there’s still some Valentine’s Day left on the clock (at least here in the EST time zone).

This isn’t on AO3 yet, but it will be once it’s complete. In the meantime, you can read some of it below the cut.

Thanks to @moddieeee and @tunemyart for filling my brain with all of the WFC feels. I love you both dearly; you inspire me in so many ways. Smooches!

UPDATE: you can now read this on AO3! 

a prelude (...the wanting comes in waves...)

It’s a curiosity at first. After the curtain call, before the reception. The single red rose that falls at her feet. Tossed in a soft arc from the balcony of the Imperial Box. From the hands of the Empress, no less. Gabrielle is careful to retrieve the lady’s favour from the stage, in clear view of the woman who was so moved to offer it. Bends low with delicate fingers to scoop it up to join the bouquet already nestled under one arm. Gaze intent on the keen eyes that cut through the distance between them, because, she tells herself, it would be impolite to look away. Adds the bloom to the others - nonchalant now, attention elsewhere -  as if it were just another token bestowed upon her by any other appreciative fan. But even as she tucks it away, her fingers wind around the long, smooth stem and linger there, like the peculiar feeling that suddenly creeps across her chest and down her spine to settle in the dangerous spaces behind her knees. 

She thinks she hears her name, a whisper dancing on the shell of her ear, a voice most familiar though she’s sure she’s never heard it. She scans the faces in the audience, listens behind the sounds for the murmur that is so close and yet so impossibly far, but is met with generous applause and nothing else. Except that peculiar feeling again. This time pulling her attention upwards once more. To that gaze, those eyes, only this time when her own eyes sweep the balcony she finds it empty. It’s something like grief that washes over her then, as her fingers tighten of their own accord around the Empress’ rose, and she prays to Aphrodite for the crowd to give her leave. They clap on instead.

When, at last, she steps backstage after the final round of bows, someone from her troupe offers helpfully to take the flowers from her. To put them away in the cozy dressing room she’s made into her writing space during her stay in Rome - so she can go on ahead to the splashy little soiree Caesar’s people have too loudly announced is in her honour for it to be anything other than just an excuse for the city’s most vapid and ambitious hangers-on to primp and preen and be seen by the Emperor. But Gabrielle declines the stagehand’s offer, hugs the roses a little closer to her chest, hopes no one notices the protective embrace, and makes some private joke about needing a few quiet moments to herself before being thrown to the wolves. There’s a shared chuckle, and then she’s making her way through the din and disarray of actors - unencumbered by further professional obligations and hungry for Rome’s after-dark delights - planning their evening’s exploits as they go about packing up for the night.

And it isn’t a lie - her excuse for wanting to hang back a while - at least not exactly. It’s no secret among her players that she hates these types of events - the lavish parties; the vanity for vanity’s sake; but maybe most of all, the prideful, boastful, gilded arrogance of self-important men and their mistresses (never their wives) as they condescend her intelligence with feigned interest in her plays and their insipid conversation. No, she’d much prefer to while away her free nights in whatever seedy-looking tavern she stumbled upon, with its day-old stew and watered-down port, trading bawdy jokes with the locals and flirting with the busty barmaids. Until a drunken fight cleared out the place. Or the sun peaked above the horizon. Whichever came first - though, Gabrielle always, not-so-secretly, hoped for a fight.

There was something oddly nostalgic, unusually comforting about the back-alley watering holes she’d wander into, though she could never reason why. She almost never visited the same establishment twice. Hadn’t even set foot in one until she found her way to Athens. Fresh-faced and hellbent on making a name for herself with her stories. Fuelled by a dewy-eyed confidence born from leaving behind - by way of an open window in the middle of the night on the eve of her wedding - the lonely, unfulfilling life she’d endured in the small, farming village of her youth. Mostly, though, it seemed her favourite spots were dimly lit; smelled of stale ale and horseshit and someone’s stomach’s misplaced dinner; and were almost always the preferred refuge of at least one soused lout with a lecherous grin and a pair of wandering hands. But they reminded her of the strange and fantastic adventures she once dreamt of having - back when she was still a slip of a girl who looked for pictures in the stars, and wished on the falling ones for someone special to share her secrets with - so she kept finding her way back to them, watching the door between rounds, waiting.

There would be no tawdry tales to tell from the underbelly of Rome tonight - at least not from her lips. Because, as it turns out, even the most sought-after wordsmiths - yes, even those summoned to Rome at the behest of the Imperial Court - have bills to pay. And stuffy parties - no matter how dull, or overflowing with pompous pissants - sparkle with the promise of patronage, enough to pay the bills and then some, when Gabrielle plays her part well. After all, what good are her words and the lessons they teach if no one ever hears them? So, she had long ago learned to smile obligingly, and swallow the impertinence on her tongue with the sip of her wine. 

She just needs a moment to centre herself first. A few deep breaths and a head-start on the wine - just a quaff or two or three - reinforcements for the long night ahead. Nothing unusual there. Nothing except the red hot flush at the back of her neck; the bloom of curious wonder in her belly. She picks her way through the whorl of bodies and props and cloth in the theatre’s back of house, the peal of laughter, the good-natured ribbing being tossed in her direction as she passes. Her mind is leagues removed from its routine musings about the tedium in store for her this evening. She can’t seem to shake the Empress from her thoughts, and it prickles at her senses - some portent of danger? A spell to stupefy her? Indigestion from too much garum splashed on her supper? 

She sighs, and pushes the fascination from her mind as she pushes aside the heavy curtain to her makeshift workspace. But images of the Empress -  impressive and alluring in her height and bearing, draped in diaphanous gold silk and completely disarming with her patrician beauty - slip back into her thoughts as easily as she slips into the quiet of the small room. And, those eyes. The way they cut to the quick of her. She searches her memory for their exact shade, but can’t quite see beyond the shadows cast over the balcony by flickering lamplight. Remembers, only, that they reminded her of the sea under a new moon - so deep and dangerous in their pull that even Poseidon would be powerless to help anyone caught up in the eddy of her gaze. 

And even now, nearly half a candlemark later, Gabrielle can still feel the Empress’ eyes on her, as surely as she can feel the Empress’ rose in her hand - pressing up against the flat of her palm - as surely as she feels the bite of imaginary thorns as they dig into her flesh. She knows the stem is bare but the sting is real, and when she looks down at her clasped hand, she still half expects to see a trickle of blood peeking out from between her fingers, stark against her fair skin. 

She sighs again, and with the shake of her head, moves with quick, purposeful strides to the water jug on her writing desk. It’s only half-full, and the roses will make it a little top-heavy, but there’s no time to look for something else, and the flowers are much too beautiful to let go to waste, so it will have to do for now. Her hands shake in time with her nervous breath as she slips the bouquet into the carafe, though she’s careful to lay the one from the Empress aside. She’s confused by it - the power it seems to hold over her - but also by the Empress’ arresting stare; the swell of curious feelings that she just can’t escape; the fact that she should even be in Rome in the first place. A farmer’s daughter who stole away in the middle of the night to chase after stories and… love. 

She decides she needs a drink. 

So, she turns to the decanter of brandy left out by her hosts, pours a generous swig into a finely-etched glass snifter, throws it back in one quick swallow, then repeats the process for good measure. The brandy’s thick and just barely sweet, and it licks a delicious trail down her throat to warm her insides. It’s a slow and delicate burn and it reminds her of the sting she still feels against her palm from the rose that now lays on the desk in front of her. Gabrielle sets the glass down and turns her palms over to inspect them more carefully, to see if the Empress has, by some magic or dark art, left her mark upon her. But there are no scratches, no smear of bright red blood, no brand seared into the flesh there - her hands are fine. Calloused and maybe a little sweaty, but unmarred. 

“Have I gone mad?”, she asks in a breathless whisper, decanter in hand once more. 

The trickle of brandy spilling into her snifter doesn't propose an answer, but she finds the sound of it reassuring all the same. She brings the glass to her mouth, then moves to put some distance between herself and the desk, as if that might somehow break the spell; clear her thoughts. She makes it three steps before she’s back. Her resolve eclipsed by her curiosity. She trades her glass for the rose. Twirls the stem between her first two fingers and her thumb as she takes to pacing. Watches closely, the play of light from the oil lamp nearby, as it caresses the delicate folds of the flower. Runs the pads of her fingertips along the petals’ edges and is lost completely in the softness she finds there.

Her feet drift across the mosaic floor, as her thoughts drift back to the Empress. 

“Maybe they’re green? Or blue? Or black?”

And, her eyes. Of course.

Their pull is irresistible. Gabrielle is helpless to it. And to the mystery of the way the Empress looked at her. The way her own heartbeat skipped in the moment. The peculiar flood of feeling that danced along her every nerve, like a static shock and a lover’s kiss all rolled into one. And then, all orderly thought abandons her. And she wonders why she’s even holding the Empress’ rose. Wonders if it had been genuine admiration or just polite courtesy that had inspired the Empress’ gesture to toss it at her feet.

Wonders if, maybe, she herself had been the...

She doesn’t let herself finish that thought.

“This is ridiculous.” Another incredulous shake of the head, hands thrown up in exasperation. 

And then she’s standing in front of the makeshift vase trying to tuck the rose in amongst the others, as if it was just another token bestowed upon her by any other appreciative fan. As if she could ever lose sight of it, even surrounded by a dozen or more just like it. As if her mind hadn’t already mapped every one of its fine details into her memory. 

Her clumsy, unwilling fingers are mid-jab when she is interrupted by the scuff of sturdy leather boot soles against stone, the brush of heavy fabric being pushed aside, the gentle clink of shifting metal settling again. Her hand stills, but she waits for the polite cough from her doorway before she turns her head to acknowledge the stranger she finds standing there.

She lifts an inquisitive brow at his intrusion, a question as much as an appraisal. He is handsome, she supposes, in a rugged sort of way. Not that she cares about ruggedly handsome men. Or, men in general. Or, men who are generals, and this man is a general -  she is certain of it - the polished armour gives him away immediately; the red velvet cloak affixed to his cuirass. Even without the obvious signs of his rank Gabrielle would know it. Sandy-haired, square jawed, broad shouldered, compact - a fine son of Rome - he wears his station in his manner and his air, and he is here now on business.  She lets her brow arch a little higher.

“My apologies for the interruption,” his head bows slightly, gracious, conciliatory, “but, the Emperor asked that I might escort you to the reception.”

She keeps her gaze fixed impassively on the man in the doorway, but doesn’t speak a word in return. She had long-ago discovered that the quickest way to useful information was to keep quiet. So many people found silence uncomfortable, and in the face of it would trip over their own tongues trying to fill the void it seemed to create. She watched her escort shift in his place, swallow around a dry throat, and she smiled knowingly to herself - even Roman strongmen were immune to the effects of careful, exacting scrutiny.

“That is, if you’re ready to go.” He seems caught between impatience and fluster.

She lets the corner of her mouth tug upwards, slips into the indulgent smile she’s picked out for the evening, like it was just another pretty peplos to be donned for a special occasion. But, she doesn’t turn to face him fully. Doesn’t move from what she is doing.

“How lovely,” Gabrielle says, and the cheer she injects into each syllable isn’t nearly as put upon as her smile, recalling, then, with sudden and vivid detail what - who - might await her at the party. This time the softness in her expression is genuine.

“It’s just that you’ve found me in the middle of something.” She tilts her head in the direction of her hand, still raised mid motion, rose resting between her fingers, its stem half buried within the bouquet. His eyes track briefly over her work before finding hers again, and the tension in his posture relaxes when she explains, “I’m nearly done. I only need a moment or two more, is that ok?”

Her heart has suddenly taken up a noisy hammering in her chest, and she can feel a violent blush creeping into her cheeks. She feels exposed, her hand on the Empress’ rose, thoughts of the woman’s commanding beauty circling the edges of her mind, threatening to steal the last of her concentration and betray her all the same. Not that her Roman general has a single clue what he’s witnessing. Still, she holds her breath.

“Of course,” he says, and Gabrielle feels her insides let loose. “I’ll just be outside,” and he gestures towards the curtain. “Please, take your time.”

She tries to keep the relief she feels from creeping into her voice. 

“Thank you….,” she says, letting her tone indicate there’s a request in her statement as well.

“Brutus,” he supplies, in understanding.

“Thank you, Brutus. I’ll be along shortly, I promise.” Her hand, still on the rose. 

He bows, gently, at the shoulders, and with a small smile turns on his heel to disappear through the fabric door, all cold, brusque efficiency; the only sound of his exit the whisper of his velvet cloak caressing his leather lappets, the brush of the curtain falling back into place. 

She waits - a heartbeat. Then, another. Lets her breath push past her lips, slow and shaky. Her eyes drop back to the scene in front of her, fingers still engaged in trying to rearrange the roses packed into the water jug, trying to hide away the evidence of her preoccupation, the source of her growing fervour. Her brows knit together, bewildered, vexed. She has never been so unnerved by something as inconsequential as a flower. She should just toss it aside and be done with it. 

And if Gabrielle had any good sense, any resolve left she would. She would absolutely pick it up and, and… A sigh. Instead, she watches as her traitorous body spurns whatever reason remains, and her hand moves, lifts, the rose with it, to bring the bloom to her face. Oh, sweet Aphrodite, how easily she breaks! How soft she’s gone for the memory of the Empress’ gaze, so open and unguarded; the pierce of it. The petals brush against her cheeks, nose, and she smiles at the feel; lets the flower rest a spell against the curve of her upper lip, inhales the delicate perfume. It tugs her eyes closed, and she imagines the smell of rosewater on the Empress’ skin, warm under her touch, and aching. 

And it’s like a thousand-thousand tiny explosions up and down her spine, like Greek fire in her veins. Her head spins and her knees buckle and she’s grabbing at the table’s edge to keep her legs beneath her. And somewhere from the depths of her mind’s eye she sees it, a vision - of the Empress, but not the Empress - so familiar and clear, like unlocking a memory, only how could it be? Long shadows and the golden glow of firelight; long ebony hair fanned out on a pillow of furs; long, lean limbs with their long, hungry reach, searching, gripping, pulling closer and closer and harder and closer still; long, graceful arc of a strong back pushing off the ground, hips angling desperately, as fingers push deeper. Gabrielle’s mouth at the valley between her breasts, tongue tracing the same word over and over again: mine mine mine mine. And the flash of the clearest, brightest blue.

Her eyes fly open, and with them a flurry of thoughts blossom in her mind, wild and crazed. She clutches at the stem, wanton with misplaced desperation, feels it ready to give beneath her fingers, such a delicate thing. Like her sanity, surely. Her mind possessed by two insistent, competing thoughts. To tuck away this precious thing - the Empress’ favour - to keep it soft and safe and secret; for her eyes only, in the deep of night; the brush of it against her lips, and the raging, pulsing thrill of possibility in her blood. And then, all the more ludicrous, dangerous, the rush to pin it to her breast and walk into that reception - for all to see and know and whisper about - an audacious declaration, unequivocal in her intent, her offer; to see the Empress turn her way, a shrewd and feral glint in her eye.

But before she can register what’s happening - or do anything so foolish and provocative as to imperil her safety- her free hand is reaching for the latch on the writing box arranged neat and unsuspecting atop the corner of her desk; tossing aside a few extra scrolls, a quill or two, to make room. And then she’s gently placing the Empress’ rose inside and knocking back the rest of her brandy and smoothing down the front of her dress. 

She turns on her heel, and feels dizzy; wonders briefly if the drink has gone to her head so soon. But the delightful shiver of anticipation that creeps along her warm skin seems to settle and curl around her belly, and she knows explicitly that she’s not woozy from the brandy wine.

“Utter madness,” she whispers, headed for the curtained door, thumb rubbing aimless circles against her unblemished palm, round and round and up and down, chasing away the lingering sting. She squares her shoulders, brushes an errant curl behind her ear; wishes she could brush off these lingering thoughts of the Empress as easily, but they’ve settled deep within her, like raindrops caught within the folds of a rose. And so, Gabrielle thinks as she slips into the hall, and on to Brutus’ waiting arm, it would seem - rose or not - the Empress has marked me just the same.

[neon-junkie]

maybe umm male reader fucking arthur or kieran ?? :O if you dont wanna write that it's fine tho, love your work regardless

I always struggle to write Arthur, so I’m obvs gonna go with Kieran hehehehehe. NSFW under the cut!!

"You really sure about this, Mister?" Kieran asks for what felt like the tenth time tonight. "I already told you, I am," you huff as you slide another finger into him, making him yelp. 

Kieran was lying face down on your bedroll, your tent flaps closed, a lantern propped on a small crate in the corner. Kieran's gripping hold of a pillow, his arms crossed around it, cheek buried into it. He keeps looking over his shoulder to watch you prep him, his cheeks a rosy red colour, mouth parted to let soft moans escape his lips. You'd caught Kieran staring at you many times, although you're pretty certain it was meant to be admiring. Kieran's admiring meant gorming at you with wide eyes and running away whenever you caught him, a bit like a child. You always enjoyed seeing him stutter and dip his head in embarrassment whenever you went over to flirt with him. He'd asked you once if you were tryna court him, a jokey tone to his voice, but he looked like a spooked owl as soon as you replied a simple 'yes.' The two of you had never asked actually confirmed if you were dating or not, but you assumed from the way he sneaks into your tent every night that you were. Kieran was always so timid talking to you around other camp members, but his true personality came out the second you two were alone. He was full of personality, a lot bubblier than you imagined and oh-so sarcastic. However, he always seemed to forget how to talk whenever you had your hand around his cock. The two of you haven't done much together, but Kieran came into your tent tonight and the first thing he said was "Please, mister. I can't take it no longer, you gotta fuck me!" "Shit!" Kieran half whines, half moans as you push both your fingers knuckle-deep. You scissor them out slightly, trying to prep Kieran as much as you can before you enter him. He's a flustered whimpering mess, eyes shutting as he buries his face into your pillow. You hadn't even bothered fully undressing him, and you still had some of your clothes on too. Kierans cock was pressed in between his shirt and your bedroll, leaking precum onto both of them. He was definitely going to pay for making a mess of your belongings. "Come on," Kieran sighs, loving the way you're fingering him, but he's gagging for you to finally slide into him. "So desperate, ain'tcha?" You chuckle. Kieran gives you a pouty look, but you wipe the frown off his face as you slide your fingers out with a pop. Kieran props himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder hungrily as you slick your dick up with some oil. You position yourself over him after pulling his jeans down to his knees, too lazy to pull them all the way off. The two of you sigh in unison as you finally slide into him, slowly pushing your cock deep and holding it there for a second. You let out a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as Kieran felt far too good. You would have pounced on him the second you saw him tied up in the stables in Colter if you knew he was going to feel this nice. Once you feel the both of you are settled, you slowly start thrusting your hips, going easy as you really didn't want to hurt Kieran. He's a flustered mess, panting and moaning as you fuck him. You slowly pick up the pace, letting out a few quiet moans. Kieran's tight, really tight, and you're almost certain he's going to be in a bit of pain tomorrow. Kieran knows the safe word but hasn't said it, nor shown any signs of discomfort. You're a little worried he's secretly hurting, but you trust he'd tell you if he was. You decide to stop holding back, slamming into him, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the tent. Kieran's a mess, whimpering into the pillow. You had no idea Kieran could make such noises. "Keep quiet, you wanna wake everyone up?" You tell him, though you were pretty certain anybody nearby had definitely been woken up. "S-sorry! You're.. you're just real good," Kieran manages to reply between your thrusts, his voice cutting out often. You lean down, your hand grabbing at Kierans jaw so you can turn him to face you. You hungrily kiss him, trying to shut him up, though he continues to moan between your kisses, your noses bumping against each other. At least he's a bit quieter, or he was until you slammed into him harder than usual. Kieran has to break off the kiss so he can bury his face into your pillow, groaning into it as you continue to pound him. You place one hand beside his head, the other inbetween his shoulder blades, urging him to keep his face buried into the pillow. He was a little quieter, your pillow muffling his moans. Your knees begin to ache from the weird position, so you pull Kieran up by his hips, shifting him into doggystyle without pulling out. Kieran attempts to rest on his hands, but quickly drops down to his elbows as you pick up your pace. He eventually ends up half lying down, his face buried back into the pillow. So far, nobody had complained. You were sorry they had to hear this, though other members of the camp didn't hold back whenever they fucked. "Mister... I..." Kieran stutters. "Use your words, Kieran," you order him. Kieran shifts up onto his hands and quickly looks over his shoulder at you, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. "I'm real close," he manages to tell you through moans. "You waitin' for my permission' or somethin'?" you tease him, making Kieran even more flustered. Kieran goes to reply but is cut off as you pull out, flipping onto his back. You manage to pull off one of his pant legs, placing one leg over your shoulder. Before Kieran can even realise what's happened, you're pushing back into him, your hand wrapping around his cock, pumping him in time with your slowed thrusts. "Shit! Jesus... that was fast," Kieran comments, shuffling the pillow so his head rested comfortably on it. "Now you ain't gonna get more cum on my bedroll," you tut. "Yeah... sorry about that," Kieran blushes. "Anyway, where were we?" you smirk, your hips snapping forward as you plow into him. Kieran can't muffle his moans with the pillow anymore, trying to use his hand but it's no use. He eventually gives up, not caring that the camp will definitely tease him about this. Kieran moves your hand off his cock, replacing it with his own. You can now grab at his hips, your weight shifting on top of him as you ruin the poor boy. "You gonna cum for me, Kieran?" you ask in a husk voice, sending a shiver down his spine. "Uh-huh," Kieran manages to slowly reply. He tries to keep eye contact but his eyes often fall shut, overwhelmed by all the pleasure you're making him feel. "You want my cum inside ya?" you ask. "Please!" Kieran whimpers, replying far too energetically. "Needy little thing," you grin. You lean over him, your lips meeting his neck as you kiss up to his jawline, leaving a few marks here and there. Kieran can't take it anymore, letting out a string of noises as he cums on his stomach. His eyes remain shut, breathing heavily. You follow soon after, thrusting deep inside of him as you fill him up, his walls tightening around you. This time, you're the one being loud. Grunting against his neck as you ride your high. After what felt like hours, you finally pull out of him, rolling onto your back. The two of you lie there for a while, exhausted from tonights work out. Kieran finally moves, finding his neckerchief to use as a rag, cleaning himself off. He undresses - it's far too hot for clothes. You slowly do the same, more focused on finding your breath as you lazily undress yourself. You're slightly surprised when Kieran tucks the both of you into bed, turning off the lantern after placing a blanket over you both. His head finds your shoulder, your arm wrapped around him. You want to say something, anything, but your breath has been taken away. Kieran doesn't seem bothered, letting out a happy sigh as he gets comfortable, his limbs tangled in yours. You manage to reach over and wipe a few strands of hair off his face, your arm then coming to rest around him. The two of you fall asleep in unison, exhausted from tonight. Kieran, of course, gets roasted over the next few days by most of the camp. A few members try to roast you but they're quickly shot down when you threaten to 'fuck him even harder if you don't stop moaning about it.' What a lie that was. You were going to make him moan even more next time, regardless of their remarks.

[psych0midget]

Music Soulmate AU

I basically just rewrote this from Andrew’s POV

The first time Andrew hears what is soulmate is listening to he is in juvie.

In juvie they encourage troubled youths to listen to music. He has a radio and “free” access to a computer. But the music radios pass on is not exactly of his liking. And it’s not like he can surf the internet however he likes, not when the internet is controlled and censored.

To be honest, he’d never even thought he might enjoy music before his soulmate. His soulmate has good music taste.

Thanks to Pig Higgs he has landed in a juvie with plenty of rehabilitation programmes. He’d gladly avoid joining any of them, but his counsellor made it compulsory.

And so Andrew choses the music programme. That’s how he larns to play the guitar- just so he can play the songs his soulmate listens to.

It’s only when he gets out of juvie that he finally finds out the names of the bands and musicians his soulmate listens to. He buys their cds, downloads their songs, goes to their concerts and listens to them 24/7.

Out of juvie he also finds out that he has a twin brother who plays the drums and a cousin who plays the piano. And what is he even supposed to do with a brother he knows nothing about but start playing music together?

At first it’s mainly covers. Aaron sets the rhythm and Andrew strums his guitar. It’s quiet and slow, like their uneasy friendship. The more they get comfortable with each other the better they play together.

It’s only when their cousin Nicky walks into them playing an instrumental cover of The Ghost of You by MCR that he decides to join them. Nicky ditches his piano, buys a keybord and becomes an official member of their unofficial band. 

The first time Andrew does the vocals of one of their covers, both Nicky and Aaron hit the wrong notes and then stop playing altogether, staring at Andrew with their mouths wide open.

It’s Aaron who breaks the silence with a screeched “you’ve always known how to sing LIKE THAT and you’ve never done it before?”. Andrew just shrugs, but from that moment on he becomes the designated singer.

Their unofficial band becomes official when Kevin Day joins the line up. He plays the bass, but most importantly he writes songs. And good damn songs. Plus his father Wymack owns an independent music label and he signs them.

Even with a contract in their pocket, Andrew and his band (now called The Foxhole, who even knows why, it was Nicky’s idea) have to cut their teeth. They slowly work up the ladder one little concert after the other. It is exhausting.

Andrew hadn’t signed up for crazied fans when he’d started playing the guitar with his brother in the attempt of making up for 14 years of being convinced they both were alone in this world. But at least the fans are growing the more and more numerous.

Last week they filled a small arena with 5 thousand people in LA. The posters outside the venue said “The Foxhole, SOLD OUT.” After the show Wymack had smiled proudly and told them that the recording studio would be booked for them all month long.

And that. That is one hell of a month. Andrew loses count of how many times he thinks about breaking Kevin’s hand.

But through the caos, the deadlines, and the mind-numbing recording sessions, Andrew has - well Andrew doesn’t have his soulmate. Not with him anyway. But he has a good playlist to come back to when he gets home.

He knows at what time his soulmate turns on his mp3 player. And every evening at 8pm Andrew takes one hour just for himself, sits on the sofa and religiously listens to the playlist his soulmate is playing. It’s a habit he took up in juvie, a habit he would never give up to.

The Foxhole’s first album jumps straight to the first position of the Alternative Music chart. Right on the day it comes out.

When they get the news Nicky is so ecstatic he jumps on the sofa like a child. Aaron hugs his girlfriend, lifts her up and makes her spin in the kitchen as they laugh and laugh and laugh. Kevin just smiles, which is quite shocking per se.

Andrew’s heart skips a beat only when at 8pm he hears his soulmate listening to The Foxhole’s album. And at that, just at that, his lips slowly curl up into a smile.

After that, Andrew’s life gets the more and more chaotic. It’s shows and interviews and world tours. It’s trying to set an alarm at 8pm even when he barely has time to breathe just to listen to a couple of songs from his soulmate’s evening music session.

It’s waking up at 5am when in Paris and cursing the European tour. And then it’s missing it. Missing it when he crashes on the couch and his meds take too much out of him. It’s having The Foxhole’s concerts set at 8pm.

It’s Andrew secretly hoping his soulmate listens to his concerts because Andrew can’t listen to his playlists. It’s Andrew wishing he’d stop hoping his soulmate would come find him after a concert.

Andrew is taken off his court-mandated meds during the pause between their last tour and the new album. The drug-induced mania wears off, leaving Andrew alone, parsing through the white noise in his brain and the thoughts that won’t leave him alone. Never never never.

One night he’s so drained out by the effort of overcoming his addiction and getting used to the new way is brain is wired, he falls asleep on the sofa before 8pm.

He wakes up at 2am, angry and frustrated and pissed off he’s missed his soulmate’s daily playlist. And if Andrew, frustrated beyond words, picks up his guitar and starts trying to put his thoughts into notes nobody has to know.

It’s not like Kevin will judge if he finds out. Kevin himself started composing to fight his own alcoholism.

But nobody really has to know. Not even when Andrew makes a habit of it. Picking up his guitar and humming along with the music he plays- trying to figure out what sounds right and what doesn’t. What eases the pressure on his skull, what makes his head hurt even more.

Nobody has to know, but he kinds of forgets that his soulmate *does* know. And Andrew tries so hard not to react. But when in the morning he hears his soulmate singing along to his new song, Andrew finds himself smiling. Andrew is sooo fucked.

Let’s not even talk about the somersaults his stomach makes when his soulmate starts playing awful upbeat songs whenever Andrew stops composing. He hates those songs, thanks but no thanks.

But his soulmate annoyingly persists pestering him with happy songs. And Andrew gets what his soulmate is doing, he knows his soulmate is doing his best to show him he likes what he’s doing, he gets it, he’s just not ready to admit it to himself.

He ends up telling Aaron. And it’s just because he needs to have someone else play with him. Just to test out a few things. Not because it’s Aaron.

Aaron who disgustingly smiles at him when Andrew shows him what he has composed. Aaron who knows he has a soulmate. Aaron who asks “it’s him isn’t it?” when Andrew puts his hands in his hair because his soulmate is listening to one of his sickening upbeat songs.

Aaron who tells Kevin. Fuck you Aaron.

Andrew knows Kevin would happily crack his head open if he didn’t need a singer and guitarist. He hears him mutter something like “that fucker knew how to compose and he never said anything before”.

They end up rehearsing the song together. First it’s just Aaron and Andrew showing Kevin and Nicky the ropes, then it’s the whole band. And if the smile on Kevin’s lips is any indication, the song is good. Damn good.

They end up including it in the new album. And Andrew is okay with it. But then Wymack hears it and decides it’s going to be the single paving the way for the album. Andrew doesn’t want to, it’s *his* song, it’s something he’d come to share with his soulmate and his soulmate alone.

He was happy with it becoming part of the album. He had anticipated how it’d feel like to hear his soulmate listening to their album and recognising the song. He had not anticipated the song becoming mainstream.

But he says yes to Wymack. He owes him that much. He still decides to do things his own way.

The Foxhole are supposed to debut the song during the first concert of their promotional tour. It’s Kevin who usually does the talking, but before he can start presenting the new single Andrew snatches the mic.

He feels Kevin’s eyes drill holes in his head when he says why he wrote the song, why he recorded it and- and that’s all because he has an annoying soulmate who supports him. And when he finishes Aaron is smiling (fuck you Aaron) and Nicky is staring at him with his mouth open.

If the screams and the yells and the choruses asking for an encore are any indication, the crowd loves the song. Andrew doesn’t care. His head is screaming “now he knows now he know now he knows”. And who would ever want to have anything to do with him. He’s fucked up. Oh he’s fucked it all up.

He grits his teeth through the concert, trying to prevent the walls in his head from crumbling down right in front of thousands of people. He regrets saying it but he misses his meds. They made this part easier, they didn’t let him dwell and spiral down into chaos.

When the show finishes he knows what’s waiting for him. A wall of fans screaming to his face that they are his soulmate- Aaron had warned him about it when Andrew had told him what he’d planned on doing.

He locks the door of his changing room and tires to breathe through the panic choking him. Just a few more minutes and then he’ll get out, face the fans and the media and the mess. He did this to himself. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes- but the door of his changing room is thrown wide open. The intruder closes it back behind his back and presses his body against it to keep the door shut.

Andrew barely manages to say “What the fuck?”

“Lock picks!” the guy throws them a him. Andrew effortlessly catches them one-handed. The intruder flashes him a smile so bright it can’t be real. Just like the red curls and the blue eyes and everything else about him. Who the fuck is this man?

As if he’s reading into his mind, he says “Don’t worry your bodyguards will be here in a sec.” Another smile.

Andrew barely has time to open his mouth and reply when the bodyguards come crashing into Andrew’s changing room. And right then the stranger says: “By the way, I’m Neil and in the morning you always listen to Welcome to the Black Parade. Nice to meet you soulmate.”

[fullsunalicia]

May I request a werewolf au for jaemin please?🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I’m a sucker for supernatural aus and your writing ‘s are extraordinary!! I absolutely love them! So please?🥺🥺

destiny — NJM

you’re not close with na jaemin, but you know plenty of rumors to give you a vivid expectation. so when he starts courting you, you’re not sure if you can believe him. you learn, though, that it’s so hard to resist a womanizer when he’s as charming as jaemin, and is destined to be yours forever.

jesus christ na jaemin is too pretty to handle. look at that gif omg / hello love! thank you so much for your kind words. i’m glad i can please someone with my writing 🥺 i hope you enjoy wolf jaemin

werewolf!jaemin x witch!reader / college au

Temptation is a sin. So is Na Jaemin.

There’s just that hazy air around him that makes everyone look again. Too gorgeous to be real, and yet he’s standing here, gifting you with a smile that knocks the air right out of you. God’s favorite, falling from heaven. That’s how you’d describe the stunning boy who has been trying for the past few weeks to convince you to go on a date with him.

His face may seem innocent, but the glint in his eye says anything but. You have heard about the many girls, how the shards of their hearts form a trail behind him. Jaemin is easy to please, but hard to keep. Attention is a precious thing, time is money. In his case, time is pleasure. A pretty face may lure him in, but nothing ever makes him stay.

And yet he’s been chasing you for a month now. The first to pick you up from your locker, a freshly brewed coffee in hand just for you. For someone that walks the earth as a god in a human body, Na Jaemin shouldn’t bother to learn your coffee orders by heart. He shouldn’t be the one making you laugh out loud in your least favorite classes and he should not be making the effort to make your heart skip.

Love is discardable, recycable. Never long-term. That’s what Jaemin says. So why is he sitting here, pouting, because you’re denying him the affection he so desperately craves? There are thousands of girls who’d kill to take your place. It drives you insane to be kept in the dark - you want to crack the wolf boy’s head open and look inside, cast a spell on him and make him spill his guts.

Nobody can know you’re a witch. Especially not Na Jaemin, part of the wolf pack that despises your kind. Everybody knows the stories, of Mark Lee and the woman he gave his heart to, cursed by a witch’s envy. That’s why you stay quiet and endure Jaemin’s flirting, and the only reason you resort to investigate the human way.

“What are you doing here, Nana? Be honest.”

Jaemin furrows his brows. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean, baby?” The nickname falls so easily from his lips. It feels just right, because why wouldn’t you be his baby? Who would pass up the chance to taste the honey dripping from his lips, the lies he speaks that taste like bitter-sweet candy? You’ve met plenty of guys who play hearts like a particularly interesting game of cards, but never have you seen someone like Jaemin. Love is like a lottery to him, and you’re the billion dollar prize - the way he treats you makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world, of undescribable worth. You know Jaemin is affectionate with everyone, and yet it makes your heart burst when he cradles your waist like it’s fine china. Carefully. Respectfully. To him, you’re art. Sadly, he’s not a critic - only the collector.

You let him rub his cheek against your stomach as if he’s a needy cat. There’s no use stopping him, since Jaemin gets the attention he desires one way or another. It should make you feel sick. And yet you only pray that he continues playing this game of push and pull, hope that he keeps trying. You’re a masochist, an addict. Na Jaemin is your fix.

The sunlight frames Jaemin’s face like a halo when he leans back and smiles at you. This is the face of Michelangelo’s David, the perfect reincarnation of Adonis. His looks are surreal. Like cut-out diamonds, Jaemin’s jawline seems sharp, but is soft to the touch. Beauty in controversy. Lust and virtue in one. Any angel at the gates to heaven would rip their hair out of trying to sort Jaemin - too gorgeous for hell, too sinful to stay in paradise. “Go bother someone else,” you mumble, desperately trying to break the spell you’re under. Na Jaemin makes you dizzy, and he knows. “I bet Haechan’s going to cuddle you. So go, shoo!”

“I don’t want Haechan.” A loud yelp is tugged out of you when Jaemin tugs you down to sit next to him, and in the next second you’re being embraced. Strong arms curl around your body, holding you close, hiding you away from the world. The most wonderful feeling in the world. “I want you.”

Love has never treated you right. Several nights have been wasted on boys and their white lies, on let-down crushes and unrequited feelings. Maybe it’s because you’re a witch, and bad luck follows you everywhere.

Just for once in your life, you want to be treated like a princess. You want Jaemin to look at you and see everything he ever dreamt of coming true. But that’s impossible. You know it very well.

That’s why you untangle yourself, sad smile on your lips, sorrow weighing heavy on your heart. Love is for girls that aren’t afraid to fall. “Sorry, but no,” you tell Jaemin, and tears prick at your eyes when you stand up and walk away.

You will never fall again.

— ❦ —

Sadness tastes like cheap raspberry vodka and salty tears. Atleast that’s what your intoxicated brain thinks it is, as you lean your head against the bathtub and close your eyes in an attempt to drown out all the loud music outside. It’s not like you to get wasted beyond control, but it’s hard to look at Kwon Eunbin’s face and say no when she begs you to take a shot with her. And another one. And another one after that.

Did it matter to Eunbin that you don’t like alcohol that tastes like disinfectant? No, of course not. Your best friend’s only job is to get you drunk and make you forget about your stupid infatuation with a certain blueberry-haired boy. Rosé wine and cocktails are long forgotten the second Eunbin takes you into the kitchen and makes you play drinking games against the frat brothers living here. Now it’s landed you in the only free bathroom inside this house, while Eunbin is searching for some water for you.

Not like she’s too drunk to take care of even herself right now. You’d bet fifty dollars she‘s already forgotten about you because someone lured her to a beer pong table. It’s alright, you forgive her. But it’s not that nice to sit in the bathroom and ponder over the meaning of your existence alone. Your conclusion of what sorrow tastes like isn’t that deep, but it’s the perfect description of the miserable shape you’re in right now. Who the hell even drinks raspberry vodka? It tastes nothing like that. It’s just drinkable bleach that your stomach barely handles.

And yet it’s enough to numb out the butterflies Na Jaemin brings to life inside you. When you close your eyes, his laughter rings in your ears, as if he’s right here with you. The sound is pleasant, calming. Like good music to a trained ear. This is what happiness would sound like if it were a noise. No matter how Jaemin treats love interests, he’s a good person at heart. That’s what makes it so hard to get over that stupid infatuation. It’s impossible to forget about his advances when all you can think about is him volunteering at a shelter and secretly adopting rescue kittens, because his best friend loves them. You think of the adorable smile on his lips when he’s suprised with his favorite snack, and how he gushes love declarations to his friends just because they thought about him. His kindness to strangers. His loyalty to the pack.

Na Jaemin. End of sentence. That’s it.

Perfection is unattainable, a ridiculous concept. You know that, and you still think it’s the only word to properly grasp Jaemin’s personality.

The vodka is doing a bad job from getting your mind off him. You groan, moving to hide your face in your hands. Is the room spinning or is that just you giving out on reality?

“(y/n)?”

It’s not Eunbin. When you look up, you lock eyes with Lee Jeno. It’s heartwarming how concerned he looks, even if you don’t talk that often. You’re only acquiantances. Despite that, Jeno moves to sit down beside you, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice quiet. You strain to even hear him properly, booming trap music making the house rumble.

It’s ridiculous, but your inebriated brain doesn’t even think about worrying about yourself. Grinning, you point at the boy’s blonde locks, tousled and curled. His girlfriend liked to play around with his hair often. It’s cute he lets her style it. “Since when’s your hair dyed?” You drawl out. Your tongue feels weirdly heavy, as if it’s not supposed to be there. Something makes you want to bite down, but the very small part of you that’s still sober screams not to do it. “Last time I saw you, it was still black. Did your girl do that?”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound, but it’s not like Jaemin. It doesn’t make your heart skip several beats and stutter like a broken record. “You’re about to pass out in our bathroom and yet you ask me about my hair?”

“Yeah. It looks really, really cool. I didn’t think any other hair color would suit you, but now that I see it, I dig it. Good job to the hair dresser.”

“Thanks.” Jeno chuckles, and then he helps you sit up. The many shots took their time to hit you, but now they all mess with you at once. Thankfully, you have a very good friend who keeps you up. “I’ll pass it along. But first, can I get you some water? Do you want to lay down? There’s a spare room downstairs because Renjun’s out of the house right now.”

Fear suddenly floods your senses. Eunbin hasn’t returned, and you don’t want to be left alone again. If Jeno goes now, you’ll probably start crying from the amount of overthinking you’ve been up to. “Don’t leave, please,” you plead Jeno. He pets your hair, like you’re some sort of cat. It’s strangely enjoyable.

“(y/n), you need some other drink besides alcohol. You’re going to have the biggest hangover otherwise.”

Oh, there is no way to avoid that. If Jeno knew how much you had downed this evening ... But you don’t tell him, instead shaking your head. “Don’t wanna be alone. ‘M sad.”

Jeno cocks his head. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t read, unfathomable. Like this, he somehow looks younger. You wonder if cocking his head is a habit he picked up from being a wolf, but asking that would be weird. The man seated infront of you takes the decision out of your hands. “You want me to get Jaemin?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you nod instantly. Moving on instinct, of course. The second Jaemin is mentioned, your fears settle. Your heart calms down. What is it about that name that makes you feel so much at home?

“Okay,” Jeno breathes out. He squeezes your shoulder one last time, before standing up and leaving the bathroom. Time seems to pass so slowly. Being in a bathroom drunk always feels like staying in an alternate dimension. It’s just God and you now, no matter if you’re religious or not. It’s an unwritten rule.

Your audience with a deity doesn’t last long, though it feels like eternity. When the door opens again, Jaemin enters, the door clicking into the lock as he closes it. “Baby,” he laughs. How dare he mock your misery? “I didn’t even know you drink at parties.”

Your actions are out of your control the second Jaemin settles beside you. Without hesitation, you move to climb on his lap, arms moving around his waist and keeping him there. This is fine. This is okay. He wouldn’t mind, right?

For a moment, Jaemin tenses below you. In that split second, you think rationally again. Maybe you had crossed a boundary. You should’ve asked before initiating this. What the hell were you thinking? But Jaemin bows over you, and then your mind just blanks. You get lost in the way he embraces you, strong body hiding away yours as he buries his face in your hair and breathes in deeply. Jaemin is warm, like a furnace beneath your touch. Wolves tend to run a little warmer than normal people. The boy in your arms seems to burn you, and yet you wouldn’t move away for a single thing in the world. You’re perfectly content with where you are.

If this is what loving Jaemin feels like, you think that the pain to be endured is worth it. This feels like your own personal heaven. Soft lips meeting the shell of your ear. Whispered compliments. Someone chuckling alongside with you when you comment sarcastically. The universe comes to a halt whenever you’re with this wolf, whether that’s a good thing or not. You don’t want to know. You want to stay like this forever.

“Still with me, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hum, repositioning yourself on his lap. Sadly, he leans away when you lock your arms around his neck, laughing at the whine you let out at that. He’s really enjoying seeing you suffer today. Maybe this is why his friends beat him up all the time. You’ve seen their play fights, both in human and wolf form. “Tired.”

Where Jaemin’s hands meet the exposed skin of your waist, the butterflies come back to life. You weren’t able to drown them, no matter how much vodka you drank. “Did someone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re wasted?” he mumbles, tugging you closer. Your breath hitches when his chest meets yours. He smiles. “Now I need to follow you like a guard dog at every party so nobody else gets to see this. I’d get too jealous.”

“Don’t worry,” you mutter. A hiccup makes you jump on top of him, and you miss the way Jaemin silently groans at that. “Nobody wants me, anyway.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Surely, this would make him stop chasing after you, and now you’ll have to learn how to survive every day without the wolf boy making you feel better with his words. The reassurance he showers you with. The many thumbs-ups, his constant encouragement. Though, now that you think about it - this is the longest Jaemin has ever put up with a girl. Is he humoring you? Did he know about what he made bloom inside your chest, and is hoping you choke on the petals?

When you look up, the wolf’s eyes are in disbelief, almost enraged. It’s a reaction that you didn’t expect, sobering you up just a little. “Is that what you think?” he inquires, the underlying tone in his voice deadly. You gulp. “(y/n), you must know about the many guys standing in line behind me. Are you unaware of all the attention that you draw to yourself? How stunning you are?”

The words tug at your heartstrings. Still, you tell him, “It’s never made anyone stay.”

It’s the truth, a truth he’s going to confirm himself. Na Jaemin can’t be held down. He’s the fleeting warm wind kissing your skin, the sun breaking through the thunder clouds to save your day. He’s not meant to be there forever. Witches don’t run with wolves.

You’d give it all up for him. The spells, the magic, the spirits. Toss everything away to offer Jaemin the world. But Jaemin has galaxies inside his soul, and the universe inside his eyes.

What would he want with your world?

Jeno coughs awkwardly when he enters. It’s the only comment he lets slip about the position you’re both in, instead kneeling down to offer you the glass. The water’s freezingly cold, but you gulp it all down, heart soaring at Jaemin’s praise. Both wolves briefly talk about what’s going on downstairs, and you yawn. Jaemin’s head snaps to yours. Seconds later, you’re lifted off the ground.

“Jaemin!”

Jeno laughs at your shocked squeal. He turns off the lights in the bathroom while you’re carried out, and you lose sight of him as Jaemin brings you to bed. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. You just want to sleep. Forget about this conversation, deal with the problem later. In the morning, you’d let your heart be crushed by the boy who was never yours. And then you’ll have to learn how to survive that.

Jaemin sets you down on a soft bed. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping over your cheekbones. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says. His tone offers no room for discussion. So you nod obediently, and hug him. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but something just keeps urging you to. To feed into the addiction that is Na Jaemin. The more you consume, the more hooked you get. He just laughs when you kiss his cheek, lets you tug him down so he hovers over you. “Stop acting cute. You’re still in trouble.”

“Okay.” You kiss his other cheek. His eyes slip closed when you dishevel his hair, tugging at the locks in an affectionate manner. The color suits him.

You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. The flutter of your heart is a foreign feeling, as weird as the sadness you feel when Jaemin moves away from you. You’re not ready yet, not able to face the flood. You grip his shirt, your legs wound tightly around your waist. The immense wish for him to lay down beside you makes you feel lightheaded.

“(y/n),” Jaemin groans, but he still hides his face in the crook of your neck. You’re aware he can hear your heart racing at his actions, but you can’t find yourself to care. All that matters is that he’s here. You sigh in content when the wolf kisses his way up your throat, dangerously close to your jaw. “Acting cute is not gonna save you.”

You shrug.

The room is dimmed, so you can’t see the look on his face. “Stop,” he deadpans. “I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Be a good girl.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

“When you’re sober and still willing.”

You tighten your grip on his shirt. “Okay. That’s a promise, right? Because otherwise, I’ll get really, really, really upset...”

You wish he wouldn’t tease you by pressing a kiss to your cheeks. You can’t see him, but you know he’s grinning. You just know. He’s Na Jaemin. “Be a good girl,” he repeats. “And in the morning, you’ll get a reward.”

— ❦ —

Your head feels like it’s been split apart. Someone’s punching holes into your temples, and you wince when you move. This is the reason you never drink high-percentage alcohol. It messes you up so much more than your trusted wine.

The bed you slept in feels empty without a body to hold you warm. It smells like your favorite wolf, but you know for a fact he hasn’t been in this room once after you fell asleep. He wouldn’t do anything without your consent. Especially when you’re under the influence. You long for another hug, but once you realize what you’re feeling, you freeze. Everything from yesterday comes rushing back.

“Oh my stars,” you murmur.

Embarrassment feels very hot, and somehow chilling at the same time. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks, your face turning into a heating pack for the hands that move to cover them. You rarely allow yourself to get so intoxicated in public. So why’d it have to happen in near proximity of Jaemin, so you can mess up and spill your secrets?

There’s still a reward to claim, though. You were promised something, and you intend to get what you are owed as a last goodbye. Before Jaemin shifts his attention and forgets about you, as if you were a star in the sky dying and leaving nothing behind but dust. You can still feel his hands on you, the touch imprinted into skin and soul. Many boys had gripped you with the sole intent of using you to their own gain, but Jaemin had held you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. A treasure. A blessing. With just a few soothing words, this wolf had managed to fill the cracks in your heart with his appreciatiation. It’s not enough to make you believe in love, but it’s enough to finally return your bravery to you. So you can finally step over the edge and fall, to surrender to another person. Your heart is battered and bruised, but you’d give it to him without hesitation.

Life isn’t meant to be spent dreading everything. You’ll regret choosing pain over caution, but it’s better than rotting away alone. There is no way to look past all the beautiful things life has to offer. It gave you Jaemin, even if it was for a little while. In his smile, you see the honesty you’ve been craving all your life from other people. His touch makes you forget about the men who treated you like their servant and not the queen they were supposed to worship. When Jaemin listened, you remembered what it felt like to be taken seriously. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to reject you. Anyone who makes you realize your worth again is a person worth let in. So you slip out of bed and start searching for him.

You’re still owed a kiss.

The house is littered with plastic cups and empty bottles. A peek into the many rooms reveals sleeping pack members and girlfriends, and some friends scattered over the couches in the living room. You can’t find Jaemin anywhere, so you head to the kitchen. Maybe he’s already preparing breakfast?

Mark Lee is seated at the kitchen table.

He sits there, looking like he was waiting for you. Perhaps he was. He’s a supernatural creature, blessed with heightened senses and perfect hearing. Your little footsteps must have sounded like booming fireworks to him. The rumors made him out to be a scary person, and if he wasn’t looking at you with such a blank face, you’d be willing to overlook them and call him cute. But it’s not a boy staring you straight in the face; it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Mark doesn’t speak for a long time. His eyes wander over your appearance, your body still clad in the outfit from yesterday. The house had been too hot several moments ago, but now you feel like shuddering. Nothing is more terrifying than looking someone in the face and being aware of much they loathe you.

There’s no other explanation for the glare etched into his face. No other reason for him to despise you, even though this is the first time he ever saw you. He knows. Knows about the powers you carry in your blood, the very same ones someone else used to curse his girlfriend. The story is widely known, almost a myth, if it weren’t for the many people that watched her collapse straight into Mark’s arms as her veins turned black. A forbidden spell, and yet it was used in broad daylight.

Mark hums. It would’ve sounded nice, if it weren’t so ominous. “Jaemin’s gone to the bakery,” he says, voice cold and void of politeness. This man can’t stand the sight of you. Honestly, if you were in his place, you wouldn’t be able to either. “He told me about having a girl sleeping over. Someone he likes. Someone who’s been toying with his feelings.”

Your throat closes up. You don’t like where this is going.

He pushes away the empty cup he clutched, revealing the claws extending from the tips of his fingers. You try to remind yourself that he can’t control it, that he’s just angry. It’s hard to do when everything inside you screams for you to run away.

The table creaks loudly when Mark leans on it. You can see the sharp nails more clearly now, deadly to the touch. “He didn’t tell me it was a witch,” the wolf continues, as if he wasn’t aware of how much he’s scaring you. “Though that clearly explains why you’re breaking his heart and enjoying it. All you witches can do is destroy and demolish. Is that why you sent us the vampires? Even though you were fully aware they’d turn on you? Did that not matter to you, if it meant being rid of us wolves?”

“I don’t enjoy it,” you whisper. You know hearts can’t physically break, but your chest is hurting, and you’re afraid Mark is going to shatter you instead of Jaemin. This is what you get for believing other people over the person themselves. If only you had realized that Jaemin was serious; the amount of time he had spent on you, so unusual for a boy of his kind, his respectful behaviour, everything. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I don’t care!”

Mark has finally cast aside the cool exterior. Visibly fuming, he watches as you tremble because he had raised his voice. The wolf shakes his head, then his hands, tries to shake off the anger. Stop the transformation. He wouldn’t turn in his own kitchen, would he?

Maybe you should just let him shred you to pieces. It’s what you deserve for treating Jaemin like some boy without feelings. You feel terrible.

There’s a gaping ache growing just beneath your lungs, swallowing up your heart like a black hole. The feeling is excruciating, almost unbearable. You force yourself to bear it. You deserve it, you tell yourself. You deserve it. The words ring in your ears and in your entire body, making way for the hollow feeling that imprints itself inside you.

Mark never looks away. He gauges in your reaction, the dooming realization of the consequences to your actions. “Stay away from him,” he finally tells you. It’s the last nail driven into your coffin. Everything seems to fade away. “Stay away from that boy. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken by someone who’s never learnt to appreciate it. You know that. Spare him. Leave, and spare him.”

As a child, you had once swallowed a potion on accident. Your mother tended to leave all her cups and cauldrons everywhere, often forgetting that curiousity manifests itself in her daughter. The liquid had been thick and had burned, all the way down to your stomach, spreading through your body as the agony swallowed you up. Like someone biting away at your organs, ripping a big chunk out of your heart and paralyzing your tongue. You had been lucky the potion wasn’t deadly, only intended to torture, to coax the truth out of someone.

This is a fresh serve of that very potion. The memory is suddenly clear as day, every detail repeating in your mind. The same fire. The same torment. And you’ve ingested it on your own accords again. You never learn.

“Okay,” you say. It’s not you speaking, but it’s your voice, an odd out-of-body experience.

No one stops you as you walk out the house. You never look back.

— ❦ —

Magic in a way, is like poison.

It’s uncontrollable sometimes. When your senses are flooded with intense emotions, it splinters of your fingertips like the sparks of a fire, just as dangerous. It burns down villages and gives life to dead forests. The earth splits to obey it, raising the ocean and capturing the stars to bend to your will. It eats away at your energy every time you use it, sends you straight to the ground after a particularly powerful spell. No one ever taught you how to turn it into a cure. It doesn’t mend the wounds of your soul, only the superficial ones grazing your skin. Humanity does not need magic to save lifes. Medicine reaches out way further than magic does, tackles the problems more effectively. Scars fade away with time. Wounds close up. But your soul never recovers. It remembers everything, for now and eternity. It is going to replay the moment you abandoned Jaemin forever.

The ground is strangely comforting. You’ve been resting on it for a while now, even though your bed is right beside you. The cold is numbing, keeps you awake. Haunted by the many months Jaemin spent chasing after you, you stare at the ceiling and pray for karma to have mercy on you. How blind you were. Now that you’re given the sight, you’re not sure you want to keep it.

You spent many days counting the what if’s. What would’ve happened if you weren’t so stubborn, so gullible. You count them, once, twice, infinitely, then you repeat. Only the stars listen. They hear the secrets you whisper to them, the stories of your burden, and they guard that secret forever. It’s the only thing they can do for you.

When witches mourn, nature mourns with them. Eunbin watches as the weather starts to follow your lead. Thunderstorms darken the skies for days on end, the blighting thunder lighting up your face. She watches as flowers start to wilt at your touch, how your tears make the rain knock at your window like an old friend. You only let her in at night, when the moon watches over you both, heightened magic coursing through your veins. You’re always stronger at night. It’s a trait you passed on to your first creation, the werewolves. The very first curse you ever casted.

“All you witches can do is destroy and demolish.”

Mark is very right.

Eunbin moves to hold you close, but she could very well hold a desk plant. Or a lamp. You never stir in her hold, as motionless as an inanimate object. Once, you had helped her through a very similar phase. The world had come crashing down on Kwon Eunbin the day she lost Yeeun. Nature had suffered under her sorrow, flooding streets and cities as you had desperately tried to anchor Eunbin in the waves trying to drown her. In a sense, witches are very selfish.

She believes you’re anything but.

“(y/n),” she mumbles. The ground groans below her when she shifts her weight, the old wood barely doing its’ job. “Please talk to him.”

You laugh, but it’s void of emotion. Eunbin can’t recognize her best friend in that sound, the woman she considers a sister. You’re like a poltergeist, born out of heartbreak. “And break up the pack because of my stupid feelings?” You scoff. “Sure. Because I couldn’t possibly be more egoistic than that.”

“You’re suffering.”

“I feel like I’m dead, Eunbin.” It’s quiet for a very long time. You finally move, the life returning to your limbs. You twist and turn, clinging to her body like a toddler in need of affection. She graps that chance, embracing you tightly, her arms forming a cage. If that bothers you, you don’t complain. “Just dead. I can barely feel anything. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me - every second I spend thinking about us separated... It’s a vicious cycle. I can’t get any rest. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been.”

Eunbin knows about the tales of the children of the moon. How the moon had turned away from the witches and gave her attention to the ones who needed it most, and she gifted the wolves with all her blessings. The promise of a life-changing love, returned in full. Two souls connected by fate. Kindred spirits finding their way back to each other.

But it couldn’t be. No, absolutely impossible.

Eunbin thinks about Yeeun. She thinks of a big, grey wolf, giving her life for Eunbin, fulfilling a promise untold. And she reconsiders.

Some people aren’t meant to be seperated. Eunbin wonders if a long time ago, someone had written your story into the stars, moonlight-tipped fingers connecting your soul to another. Destined to be with the boy with the unruly, blue hair.

It’s been sometime since she last visited the Dream frat. Maybe it was time to return.

— ❦ —

Never in your life has someone thrown stones at your window. You must admit, the experience is more scary than romantic, and you curse all the movies in existence that made you think this was cute. It’s almost embarrassing that some minerals knocking against glass is the reason you snap out of your trance, but you try and pin-point the blame on the fact that nobody’s ever done this before.

A stone flies past your cheek when you open the window. You almost scream.

“Oh my god, (y/n)! I’m so sorry!”

The voice is oddly familiar - and the instant remedy to your vicious cycle. All the sleepless nights melt away as you peak down and look Na Jaemin in the face, a big smile on his lips. Something inside your soul finally clicks and rests, never moving again. Not until something makes the boy below your window walk away. “What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

Jaemin spreads his arms. “Giving you your reward, of course.”

Guilt pools in your stomach, almost as overwhelming as the happiness that floods you at the realization that he’s really here. Sweet Jaemin, with the honest eyes and heavenly smile. The one you hurt terribly... “Jaemin, you can’t be-“

“Move away from the window, baby,” he interrupts you. Irritated, you lean away; shouldn’t he be angry with you? Upset or disappointed? He’s not even listening to you, but it seems like there is no reason to. Something claws at your window, swinging in without fear.

Now, you really do scream. The rocks were one thing, but Jaemin climbing through your window? This apartment complex is huge, for god’s sake. Did he just scale the side of the building? “Jaemin!” you hiss. “What the hell...”

You never get to finish your sentence. The wolf boy tackles you, pushing you on your bed as he firmly embraces you and rests his head on your chest. Like he’s supposed to be there. Not like you’ve been avoiding him for weeks because Mark Lee was going to rip your head out if you even breathed in the direction of Jaemin. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you there. You’re effectively trapped.

You can’t complain.

Jaemin hums in content when you hug him back, and he eases his weight off of you so you can move and sling your legs around his waist. He nuzzles his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. “Missed this,” he mumbles. “Missed you.”

You let him tug your shirt up so he can rest his hands on your naked waist. It’s like giving him a gift - his eyes light up in giddiness when he finally touches you, feels the warmth of you below his fingertips again. A child seeing the presents on christmas morning. “Missed you, too.” You bite your lip. “But aren’t you mad?”

He ignores you for a very long time. Instead, the man between your legs bunches your shirt up and covers your stomach with his own hand, as if he can’t believe you’re actually there. Beneath his skin. Holding him close. You would’ve never realized that Na Jaemin would be in disbelief of a girl wanting him, but look at him now. Your heart soars at the admiration in his eyes, and they meet yours when your pulse speeds up. It makes a smirk adorn his lips; he’s satisfied with the effect he has on you. For a moment, he looks down again, to the place where your hands hold his against your body. “Did you know that your little witch friend can be really vocal?” he says, ignoring your question completely. Lips leave a trail of heat down your skin as Jaemin traces the outline of your jugular vein. “She looks fairly small, but you should’ve seen her when she scolded the hell out of Mark. Really funny, actually. Wish she would’ve done it sooner...”

“Eunbin?” you inquire, puzzled. “What would Eunbin want with Mark Lee?”

Jaemin stops leaving kisses on you, sadly. He raises his head to look at you, offering you a look right into his soul. You see where the moon had fallen in love with Jaemin, where the lines of human and wolf blurred. Memories that gather and bundle, a messy clutter of emotions. But beneath it all, you find the boy you’ve fallen in love with. In his eyes, you find salvation.

The blankets rustle when Jaemin moves on top of you. He shifts his weight, gripping your waist a little bit tighter to hold you closer. When your chests meet, your hearts start syncing up, shaping a melody of their own. A few moments pass as both Jaemin and you concentrate on it; concentrate on where love meets forgiveness.

It’s weird. When Jaemin had just been an unknown face, you never managed to read him. Now, he’s like an open book that he pulled out himself for you. Put it on your lap and asked you to read it to him, as if he doesn’t know what’s inside it. In your hands lies his heart. Does he know that he’s clutching yours? You hope so.

“Well, you see.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your cheek. “She came in really calmly, actually. Wanted to see me and confirm something. Renjun was about to call for me, but Mark interfered... she brought herself into a lot of danger, coming to our house when she’s a witch. She did it for you. Told Mark that I should talk to you, and he in turn told her it’s best if you stay several continents away from me... I broke his nose for that.”

“Jaemin!”

He shrugs. “Eunbin yelling at him was pretty nice, but not enough to settle my anger. You think I’m going to let him talk about my mate like that?”

This is it. The explanation you’ve been begging the stars for, the root of your vicious cycle. Your mouth falls open in shock. Jaemin watches, half amused, half expectant. Like he’s waiting for something. “You mean to tell me...”

“Yeah. Eunbin found that out. She came to ask me if it was true. It’s what Mark didn’t know, because I didn’t tell anybody except Jeno. You should’ve seen the look on Mark’s face...” Jaemin halts. Worry glazes over his eyes, and it takes you several seconds to understand that he’s worrying about you. “Baby, are you alright? You’re all pale. It’s alright if you reject me, don’t worry, as long as you’re hap...”

Jaemin is suprisingly easy to push down. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to pin down a wolf, but the shock gave you an advantage. Straddling him, you lean down and finally kiss Jaemin.

It’s the key to your cage. The funny tasting cure your mom brewed for the potion you accidentally drank. If sadness tastes like raspberry vodka and salty tears, happiness tastes like chapstick and chewing gum. It’s the only thing you register before Jaemin flips you over and kisses you breathless.

You had been shy, but Jaemin is ruthless. His canines tug at your lower lip, a silent order for you to obey and part your lips. If your fingers clawing at his shoulders hurts him, he certainly doesn’t mention it, too busy drowning in the overwhelming feeling of your tongue moving against his. When you finally push him away to catch your breath, the wolf feels like he got drunk off of you. “That’s one way to claim your prize,” he breathes out.

A long time ago, the moon had mercy on your poor soul. This is what had been waiting for you all your life, hidden in the looming shadows of the supernatural world. A soulmate, born to love and adore you. Destiny feels a little bit like contentment.

You can finally laugh as the wounds that had been inflicted on you heal over, making way for the only emperor of your heart. “This kiss isn’t the prize,” you reply. “You are.”

[ellewords]

daichi is the designated driver at parties (after everyone becomes legal, of course. if he catches anyone underage drinking, he purposefully lectures the hell out of them because he knows forcing them to sit through a talk where he is overly serious and overbearing and the like is more likely to work than yelling at them and getting on their case about it). he’s been doing it ever since the third years became of legal age to drink because asahi is a bit of a light weight despite his size, and suga, while not nearly as bad as asahi, tends to get out of hand when he has a few too many drinks. on days when he does feel like drinking, he caps it off at two, regardless of the type of alcohol, and he always makes sure that he (and anyone else drinking) has a ton of water and food in between. he’s not exactly motherly about it because he knows everyone is more than capable of taking care of themselves, but he does sometimes accidentally slip into his signature look/tone combo if someone doesn’t finish the water and/or snacks he gave them in between every two or three drinks.

there’s only been one time that daichi got legitimately wasted, and he vows to never do it again. if anyone asks, it’s because he didn’t like the feeling of waking up hungover the next morning, but suga accidentally lets it slip one night after he was a few drinks in that it’s really because daichi becomes a super emotional drunk. he cries at even the slightest inconvenience, he opens up about his feelings an embarrassing amount, and he becomes super affectionate. asahi even has footage of daichi crying all over suga about how much he loved the first years after going to the last game of their third year to cheer them on. (asahi doesn’t address the fact that his loud sniffling is also heard from behind the camera or that suga is literally cooing at daichi as he pets his messy hair down.)

daichi gives everyone the deadliest glare of his life when he walks in on the team watching the video play for the fourth time and laughing their asses off, and suddenly, it’s as if the video never existed in the first place. though asahi never deletes the video, everyone silently agrees that it will never be talked about again. though, the team does try to secretly get daichi drunk a few times afterwards. it doesn’t work. unfortunately.

i think this is the shortest hc i’ve ever sent in to you, wow. you proud of me, elle? 🥰 lol, jk, hope you’re having a good day, and good luck with studying and such! -🌙

—  from elle ! haha it might be the shortest, but it was still packed with such amazing *chef’s kiss* hcs >_< pls designated driver-emotional drunk!daichi ??? pls that’s literally me ngl lowkey feels like i was reading about myself hahaha but anyways as usual, a couple short lil scenarios with the team under the cut because the karasuno dynamics live in my head rent free ;-; tysm for this 🌙anon !! <3 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

asahi was the lookout, surely with all that height, he’d be able to see daichi coming from a mile away. he didn’t need to see the video again, having lived through the actual experience himself. besides, that video lived on his phone anyways. he could just watch it whenever he wanted to.

but suga didn’t have that kind of an advantage, phone in his hands as all the other members crowded around him, trying their hardest to keep their mouths shut. even kiyoko was trying to hide her snickers with the back of her hand. 

everyone knew that they were already on pretty thin ice with daichi, him having caught them three times just in the past week. but they just couldn’t resist, even as daichi shook his head and made them do extra drills as a response.

“and the first years,” daichi bawled, words barely understandable through all the tears that came from his eyes, “they have so much potential, so much ahead of them...it just makes me so proud, you know?”

daichi gently hits the area over his heart to emphasise his point, leaning his head on suga’s shoulder. his face was flushed red, a thin layer of cold sweat on his forehead. eyes puffy and nose very clearly runny, asahi hands him a tissue from behind the camera.

“awe,” suga cooed, brushing daichi’s hair back. it’s clear that he’s holding in his laughter, given that he was biting his lip each time daichi sniffled, “you gonna miss them?”

daichi nodded, using the tissue asahi had given him a few moments ago. “i just love them so much, i hope that we were at least good mentors to them. that they remember us when we go.”

the camera shakes ever so slightly as asahi could no longer hold back his own tears. if they listened close enough, they could hear a quiet, “yeah.”

“...and the second years,” daichi continued, unable to stop himself, “i just hope they know that they could still reach out to us...if they ever need anything. i know that they’ll do a good job but it would be nice if they updated us every now and—”

“and just what exactly are you watching?”

they hear a voice in front of them, chills creeping up their spines, blood running cold. everyone’s faces paled as daichi stood, hands crossed in front of his chest, gazing in front of them with the deathliest glare they had ever seen from him.

no other words needed to be spoken. asahi had his head hung low, already deleting the video as soon as suga tossed the phone to him. just like that an agreement was made, no one speaks of the video ever again.

__

the only time it was ever brought up was the little party they had in honor of the third years graduating. it was held at the gym, decorations kept simple — just a banner that yachi had made and a couple of balloons floating about.

the night was already winding down, everybody had eaten, music was kept at a low volume for ease of conversation. soon enough, it would be time for everyone to say goodbye.

“everyone!” nishinoya called out, loud as ever as he gestured towards ennoshita who made his way to the center of the room, “i believe our new captain wants to say something.”

 everyone gathered around him, cups of soda in hand as they anticipated his words. daichi had passed the baton onto him, the role of leader, captain. he wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t regret it.

“tonight we say goodbye to our third years...” ennoshita started, a sad smile making its way to his face.

“hey!” suga called out, a laugh threatening to break away from his lips, “don’t make us sound like we’re dying! we’re only graduating.”

“right, sorry.” a flustered flush colored his face. still, he continued his little speech, “you four mean a lot to us. taught us many things in and out of the court.”

the team nodded along, agreeing with his words.

“ i know that you think we’ll do a good job, but i just want you to know that we will definitely be reaching out to you whenever we need anything. we’ll definitely be updating you every now and then too.”

asahi’s eyes narrowed, why were these words just a little too familiar? oh no, these were daichi’s words from that video...

everyone else had caught on pretty quickly, smiles threatening to form on their lips as the video was still unable to leave their heads for the past few weeks. tsukishima was the first to add on to ennoshita’s speech, “yeah, and don’t worry, we know how much potential you think we have.”

tanaka smirked, a certain amount of pride lacing his voice, “i'm sure these first years definitely know how much they have ahead of them. but we’ll be good mentors like you were.”

“we’ll miss you too!” 

“we definitely won’t forget you!”

suga and asahi looked towards daichi, just a little bit nervous. by that point, they had assumed that everyone had forgotten about it and moved on. obviously that was not the case, since the entire team had the biggest grins on their faces. suga and asahi expected a glare, or at least an uncomfortable look.

but he’s smiling, fondly, gaze warm and soft. daichi could tell they were being sincere, despite the teasing tone in their voices. 

so he lets it slide this time.

and also because daichi just knew :  he was definitely going to miss this. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what are the hq characters like at a party?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot​

join my hq taglist here. <3

[rocorambles]

Reality

Pairing: Yamaguchi x Yachi

Genre: SFW, Fluff

Summary: How our two shy little crows finally got together

Yamaguchi can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks when she walks through the doors, so tiny, so nervous, so...cute. Everyone on the team adores Shimizu, but if Shimizu is like the moon, alluring in a dark, sensual way, this new girl is like the stars, small, but glowing and comforting in an otherwise dark sky. He can’t help the way he wants to stand in front of her, blocking her from the many pairs of eyes staring at her interest, his heart strings tugged by the way she panics from being the center of attention. And he wants nothing more than to comfort her when she shivers in anxiety as his teammates draw closer to her, harassing her with questions and comments, but he sighs in relief when Shimizu sternly shoos them away, smiling at the similar look of relief on the tiny blonde’s face. 

Yachi HItoka. 

He plays around with that name in his head, in his mouth when no one’s around to hear him test her name on his tongue. He likes it. Yet another flush graces his cheeks as he accidentally writes Yamaguchi Hitoka on his notebook and he crosses it out so hard his paper threatens to tear from the force of his pen. What would Tsukishima think of him if he saw the embarrassing schoolgirl crush he had on their new assistant manager? But it’s hard to worry about Tsukishima or anything else when he goes to practice and he sees Yachi flitting about the gym, carefully filling up water bottles, furrowing her brows in concentration as she listens, watches, and learns more about the sport they all love, putting all her effort into helping the team as much as she can and his heart warms at the determination and passion he sees in her eyes. 

Unknown to him, light brown eyes are also sneaking glances at him from the sidelines. There’s something about Yamaguchi that comforts Yachi. Maybe it’s the fact that he seems like a kindred spirit, another shy, but well-meaning person who speaks to her in a soft-spoken and kind tone that she loves, especially since it’s so different from the jarring screaming and hollering she hears from the majority of the team. And even though he’s tall, much taller than her, much taller than she had originally thought when she first saw him, she never feels intimidated by him, only finding peace when the two of them are chatting or standing side-by-side. He’s the first person she goes to when she needs a second pair of hands, when she needs some extra height to reach something, and her heart flutters every time he drops everything he’s doing to help her, never too busy to help her.

The two become closer and closer and soon it’s not a surprise to see the two walking to school together or walking past the school gates side by side after practice. Yachi doesn’t even need to ask Yamaguchi for help anymore. It’s like the two are in sync as they wordlessly find a cadence and work side by side and the third-years secretly smile at each other, amused by their adorable kouhais unknowingly becoming something more than just friends. They watch as Yamaguchi instinctively reaches down to help Yachi grab a box of equipment that’s nearly the same size as her from the back of the bus as they begin the Tokyo Training Camp. They watch as Yamaguchi becomes flustered when Yachi hands him a cold water bottle. They watch as Yamaguchi grabs a plate and fills it with food for Yachi after her frightening experience of being surrounded by athletes more than twice her size. 

But there’s no time to do more than observe from afar as the rematch with Aoba Johsai draws near and there’s a sudden tension at practices as the team focuses, taking everything their bodies have learned from the grueling training with Nekoma and Fukurodani and putting it into practice, fueling themselves with the painful memories of defeat and cocky chocolate brown eyes above a white and turquoise jacket taunting them, rubbing salt in their wounds. They need to beat Aoba Johsai. They need to go on to battle it out with Shiratorizawa. They need to make it to Nationals. 

Yachi nervously bites her lip at the palpable energy in the gym. Things are slowly, but surely falling into place. New attacks, new techniques, new strategies are being implemented and becoming engrained in everyone. But will it be enough? She furiously shakes the doubt from her head and dives head first into doing everything she can to push the boys further along in their goal, picking up countless stray balls, jotting down endless notes. But she slows down a bit when Yamaguchi walks towards her on shaky legs, grasping his stomach and asking her for medicine and at first she’s alarmed, wondering if it’s something serious, wondering if he’s sick. But after years of facing her own anxieties she recognizes the tell-tale signs and she musters up the resolve to give him the tips that have helped her all these years, only to succumb to nervousness herself when he tells her the pressure they had put on his shoulders at their last match. And suddenly the tables are turned and it’s Yamaguchi’s turn to set aside the churning of his stomach and soothe the stressed out girl in front of him.

All too soon game day arrives and Yachi huddles beside Shimizu, overwhelmed by the electric atmosphere in the air and startled by the thunderous cheers from the bleachers. But the boys aren’t doing much better and Yamaguchi holds his stomach as it twists and turns and he thinks he might need to pull a Hinata and escape to the restroom at least a few times before the match starts. He feels the same pressure he had cracked under as he steps onto the court to warm-up and doubt and insecurity begin to claw up his insides. Would he actually be able to do a jump float serve? Had he practiced enough? Would he fail his team? Would Coach Ukai ever let him play again? He wants to throw up, but a sudden movement from the corner of his eyes distracts him and he narrows his eyes at the way the Seijoh substitute setter and spiker with the onion hair whisper and stare at Yachi. And he glowers at the painfully obvious way the setter throws a stray ball in Yachi’s direction before rushing towards her, his body reeking of flirtatious intent, but his heart drops as another stray ball hurtles towards Yachi’s face and he wills his legs to move, cursing how slow and sluggish they feel and he knows he’s not going to make it in time. But his body instantly goes slack in relief when Shimizu blocks the ball and Yachi goes up to the stands to watch from the audience. He turns around in a much better mood as he continues warming up with the rest of the team knowing Yachi’s safe from harm’s way, safe from flying balls, safe from leering highschool volleyball players. 

It’s a tough game. They knew it was going to be a tough game, but in actuality when the stakes are so high, when each player on both sides is playing above and beyond, when there’s no room for loss for both teams, the pressure is grueling. Yamaguchi’s not even on the court and he can still feel how tense his body is, how on edge he is, he can’t even fathom what the starters are feeling. But he doesn’t have time to imagine, not when Coach Ukai is suddenly ushering him in and if he was nervous before, he thinks he might die from anxiety right now as he stands behind the back line, the familiar weight of a volleyball in his hands as he gets ready to serve. And it feels like everyone’s eyes are on him. The audience, his teammates, the other team, but when he briefly locks eyes with Yachi, suddenly everything else gets tuned out and fueled by the belief he saw in those light brown eyes, he takes a deep breath before leaping into the air and focusing on his target as his arm swings down. And it feels good, it feels right, it feels like everything he’s practiced has finally paid off as the ball flies over the net, but he panics when he hears the Seijoh libero call the ball out, heart feeling like it might stop, only for his jaw to drop in disbelief when the ball just barely hits the backline and the ref calls it in. 

At first there’s just silence as the gymnasium takes it all in, but suddenly he’s being surrounded by sweaty boys cheering in his face, slapping his back and he doesn’t even realize he’s screaming with them, adrenaline and excitement pumping through his veins. But nothing compares to the surge of warmth he feels in his chest when he instinctively turns his head up to look in the crowd and he thinks his cheeks might hurt from how wide he’s smiling as Yachi returns his enthusiasm and even though they’re in a crowded room, for a second, it feels like it’s just the two of them as they beam at each other. 

The rest of the year flies by as the team practices, getting stronger and better each day as they prepare for Nationals and Yamaguchi and Yachi unknowingly continue their dance around each other. The third-years wonder if they should do some work on their end to get the ball rolling between their two underclassmen, but between graduation, volleyball, and figuring out their post-high school plans, there’s no time and they let them be, hoping and believing that the two would figure things out themselves. But second year rolls around and with Yachi as the main manager and Yamaguchi becoming a starter for the first time, there’s no time for the two to even acknowledge whatever is between the two of them, to even be aware that there is something between the two of them. It’s not until their third year that realization begins to sink in. 

Yachi’s not sure why her chest feels so tight and why she’s torn between crying and smiling as Yamaguchi is named captain their third-year and as he bashfully accepts and the team congratulates him, she reminisces on how much he’s grown from the shy and quiet boy she met two years ago. There’s a new confidence in the way he holds himself, a new resolve in the way he plays, and yet, she still sees the kind and hardworking boy she became friends with. Yes, Yamaguchi is still Yamaguchi despite how he’s literally grown taller, despite how newly acquired and toned muscles fill the Karasuno t-shirt in a way they never had before, despite how handsome he looks when there’s an air of authority around him as he leads the team...Yachi furiously shakes her head. Where are all these thoughts coming from?

But she can’t stop them and suddenly she feels like the little girl who had started high school all over again as she can’t stop the constant flush on her cheeks whenever she sees Yamaguchi or the way her eyes and thoughts seem to linger a tad too long on him. And she hopes she’s not coming off strangely when they interact with each other, hopes he doesn’t notice the new stutter in her words when she talks to him, hopes he doesn’t notice how she can’t help but stare in awe as he relentlessly practices his jump float serves. But little does she know a certain captain is also struggling with his own feelings. Feeling he’s known he’s had since their first year together. Feelings that only seem to get stronger and stronger the more time they spend together, the more they get to know each other. 

But despite how much the two of them have grown and matured, neither of them are bold enough to make a first move and they continue as normal, as friends, as classmates, as captain and manager, even if the longing in both of them continues to grow deeper, even as it grows painfully more and more evident that the countdown to the end of high school is drawing nearer with every second. It fully hits Yachi just how close to the end of this chapter they are as she and her fellow third-years bid their farewells and give all their best wishes to their underclassmen in the volleyball club and she can’t help the tears that stream down her face as she scrutinizes every inch of the gym she’s come to love and takes a mental snapshot of all of them here together. Kageyema and his classic scowl. Hinata and his vibrant smile. Tsukishima and his apathetic look. And Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi and his freckles. Yamaguchi and his green hair that always has a little flyaway piece on the top. Why does it hurt so much to imagine this being one of the last times they’d ever see each other? Why does her heart ache at saying a final goodbye to the captain next to her at graduation in just a couple of weeks?

Unknown to her Yamaguchi’s stomach is also twisting and turning as he sneaks a look at Yachi as they pack the volleyball equipment one last time together and he can’t help but stare as Yachi parts ways from Tsukishima and him when they walk home together, but a disgruntled cough beside him brings him back to reality. That’s right. Tsukishima is here with him and although it’s not unusual for Tsukishima to join Yachi and him, it’s apparent that the tall middle blocker has an underlying reason for wanting to tag along today. 

“So when are you going to tell her you like her?” 

It would be almost comical how Yamaguchi’s eyes widen and how his mouth flounders, trying to find the right words to say but only finding strange squawks and noises, if Tsukishima wasn’t so aggravated by his friend. And he scowls when Yamaguchi finally finds nonsensical words to say. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Are you really okay not telling her? Are you okay saying goodbye to her at graduation? Are you okay with going on with your life, pretending the girl you liked for years doesn’t exist anymore, that she’s nothing more than an acquaintance? Are you okay with her moving on, finding someone else, forgetting about you as she lives a happily ever after romance story without you?”

Tsukishima’s always known the right words to cut through any wall and this is no different and he watches in cool satisfaction as Yamaguchi finally crumbles in front of him, realization finally dawning on him as Tsukishima’s words hit home. And no, Yamaguchi isn’t okay with any of that. He isn’t okay with Yachi becoming just a friend he sends a casual text to here and there. He isn’t okay with the thought of her leaving him completely in the dust as she finds a boyfriend in Tokyo. And before he even realizes what he’s doing, his feet are instinctively moving in the direction she had left in, but he stops when he realizes how ridiculous he must look to Tsukishima. However, when he looks at golden-brown eyes, he’s stunned by the tiniest smile he sees on his lips and Tsukishima just waves him off with a nonchalant “good luck”. And that’s all it takes for him to start sprinting in Yachi’s wake and by the time he spots the petite figure in black he’s panting, sweat dripping down the sides of his face as he screams her name and it’s not at all how he had ever imagined this moment being, but suddenly he can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth as he confesses to the girl who’s had his heart all these years. 

And then there’s silence and any reckless confidence he had felt before begins to disintegrate as the silence stretches and stretches and it’s so dark that he can’t clearly see the look in Yachi’s eyes as she stares at him in shock, but he can imagine it in his head. He can imagine the soft, comforting look of consolation in her eyes as she rejects him and oh God, this was a mistake. He should have just kept his mouth shut and he’s about to open his mouth and apologize, but suddenly tiny hands are holding his calloused hands and even in the dim light of the night sky, Yachi’s smile is bright and the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle in the starlight. And he thinks he must be dreaming when her mouth forms the words he never thought he would hear from her. 

“I like you too.” 

But there’s nothing dream-like about the way he tentatively lowers his head until their noses are almost brushing, the way he can feel their breaths mingling for a second as he hesitates, the way he gently presses his lips against hers, the way her hands tighten their grip around his as she presses back. There’s nothing dream-like about the way they slowly pull apart, foreheads touching each other as they smile at each other and walk away hand-in-hand. And suddenly reality seems better than any dream the two of them ever had.  

[moony-artnstuff]

Matchup Commission, @tolkien-fantasy

Note: This is my first ever matchup/fanfic ever, for my dear friend @tolkien-fantasy. I really loved the one you made for me, and I hope you enjoy this one too!

The Hobbit

I ship you with... Beorn!

Beorn would be smitten with you!

I headcanon him as a secretly big softie (I mean have you seen all the animals he keeps? The bumblebees??) and he loves your kind, excitable and patient personality, but he’s also glad you’re able to stand up for yourself. (He’d probably see you tell someone off for being a jerk and have this proud little smirk on his face)

That beings said, he’s still very protective over you, always asking how you’re feeling, what he can do to make you feel safe, comfortable and happy. He would try to learn as much as possible about autism and neurodivergency to make sure he fully understands you and can fullfill any of your needs, and to make sure the communication between you two goes swiftly.

At first he might be a bit suprised you’re protective over him as well, thinking he doesn’t need it, but it also makes him flustered, though he would try not to show it. Just the fact that you care so much for his well-being makes him feel loved and cared for in a way he hasn’t experienced before and he loves you for it.

He loves how creative you are. He would simply sit on the couch in the evenings looking fondly at you scribbling away in your journal, getting lost in the blue of your eyes as they light up when you remember something from your adventures. Or he would come home after working all day and be met with the lovely scent of whatever it is you’re baking, greeting you with a hug and a smile.

He definitely keeps all of your carved pieces and candles, and he’d feel honored if you showed him your drawings and writings, always complimenting you on your work saying how lovely they are. Now, if you were to specifically gift something to him he’d be over the moon! And he’d definitely try to make something for you too!

This guy is a literal bear, a cuddlebear. Beorn is someone who shows his love more through actions than through words, so be prepared for him to pick you up, spin you around and flop the two of you down on the bed for a cuddle session. He loves cuddling with you while playing with your messy hair. He also adores your many moles and freckles, always kissing them and tracing them with his hands.

His house is surrounded by nature and Beorn loves to join you on your adventures, giving you rides on his back in his bear-form. He loves to hear you ramble and he could listen to you forever.

Beorn would appreciate the fact that you’re honest. He himself is quite to-the-point and he is glad you’re not afraid to just tell him what you need.

This guy is a tease. He has all kinds of pet-names for you and he will shower you in compliments at random, if only to see you get all flustered and adorable, he eats it up.

Beorn has been through a lot, and, just like you, takes a while to trust others, but once he sees you are good, he will put his heart and soul into loving you.

He’ll buy you new hats and sweaters he thinks will look good on you, find you little trinkets that reminded him of you, remind you everyday how much he loves you without being overBEARing (I’m sorry, I had too, but I mean it though)

If your anxiety or trauma starts to act up he’s gonna be right by your side the whole time, holding you, whispering that he’s here for you, that everything will be okay and that even if all else fails, he will always be there to love you and care for you.

You probably met when you stumbled across his house during one of your adventures, seeking shelter from the night. You’re probably the one that reached out first, because of your curiosity. A friendship was formed between the two of you and eventually he asked you if he could court you. The two of you living happily in his small (or actually quite big) cottage in the wood.

Lord of the rings

I ship you with... Elrond!

Elrond is kind and patient in nature, and he’s glad you’re like that as well.

He knows all about neurodiviegency, autism, asthma, so you don’t have to worry about him not understanding you for doing or needing certain things a certain way. He will ask you thought if you prefer to have things done a certain way and what he can do to make you feel comfortable.

He adores your art-work, and makes sure you always have the best art-supplies to work with. He’s also insistent on only wanting to use the candles made by you. He keeps a few on his desk for when he has to work late into the night, and looking at it reminds him of you.

As the lord of Imladris he does not always have the time to join you when you go out to explore the valley, and he often finds himself worrying for your well-being when you’re out even thought he knows you can handle yourself.

He has a special place in his room to keep all the little things you’ve gifted him. It’s somewhere he can easily look at them without having to worry about accidentally placing his books on them.

He once gifted you with a bunch of beautiful notebooks and journals, because he knows how much you enjoy writing down your stories and thoughts.

He adores the way you look. As an elf he is already tall, especially compared to you and because of that he loves to give you forehead kisses, so expect a lot of them! Elrond isn’t much for PDA, aside from the casual handholding, but once you’re in your private quarters? Oh boy, be prepared for him to cuddle you like his life depends on it!

Elrond enjoys braiding your hair. It’s definitely one of his favorite things to do. He always braids your hair so you’re eyes stand out, while still keeping it in a way so you can keep wearing your hats.

He always carries an inhaler and some other stuff with him in case you’re asthma flares up.

He’s really glad you’re such an open and polite person, and he’s especially glad you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself. He truly thinks you’re perfect and he can’t believe how lucky he is to have you.

It makes Elrond so happy to see you grow more comfortable around him, and he does everything he can to gain and keep your trust. He shows you his feelings for you are genuine by giving you gifts, giving you compliments, being there for you when you need him and always reminding you that he loves you, but he’s also more than ready to give you your space if you need it.

Elrond has a very calming presence. If you ever were starting to feel anxious or overwhelmed, he will take your hand, softly rubbing it with his thumb, and ask you if you’d like to go somewhere more quiet.

He is very patient, never making you feel like a burden and always reminding you that you and your emotions are valid. If you were to tell him not to worry, saying that others have it much worse, he will gently shush you, telling you that it’s okay to feel the way you do, that you’re not an imposter and you sure as hell aren’t weak.

You mean more to him than air itself, and Elrond is more than willing to help you overcome your challenges. He’s been throught a lot himself, and he will never force you to talk about your trauma, but he’s always right beside you in case you need him, always reminding you you’re save in Rivendell and always loved by him.

[minmotl]

Chapter 59: Sui Zhou Forbids Tang Fan From Hiding More Money

Context: 洛水古棺案 The Luo Shui Ancient Coffin Case - This happens after Tang Fan’s promotion and is his first major case after he successfully deals with people who don’t like him at his new job. The case happens at a riverside city called Bei Song (Northern Song). To the North of the city it faces Luo Shui (Luo River), and further up they will see the Yellow River. The town is built near the tomb of the Song Emperor, and while the town and tomb have to frequently deal with tomb raiders, everything is still pretty manageable and peaceful.

Recently, however, things have taken a turn for the stranger, and the courts have put Sui Zhou and Tang Fan on the case.

Before they embark on their next case together, however, some things have to first be ironed out, for example, the royalties from writing that Tang Fan gets but secretly hides from Sui Zhou.

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Since a year ago, every day when it hits midnight, the civilians living nearby would hear some strange noises coming from Yong Hou Tomb and Yong Shao Tomb. At first, they thought it was the sound of the wind, but listening to it closely, they realised that those were crying sounds.

Yong Hou Tomb is where Song Ying Emperor Zhao Shu rests, and Yong Shao where Zong Ren Emperor Zhao Zhen rests.

Zhao Shu was Zhao Zhen’s successor, but he was not Zhao Zhen’s biological son, because all of Zhao Zhen’s sons died then, which left him with no choice but to take on Zhao Shu, who was from the royal family, as a charge.

These are not important, however. The question is, in the middle of the night, why would there be crying sounds from the royal tombs?

It has been so many years since the emperors from Song dynasty passed away and there are no longer any filial children or virtuous grandchildren. And even if there were, who would choose to cry for these lost souls in the middle of the night?

This is really strange.

The civilians in nearby villages have the responsibility of guarding and watching the tombs, and so after hearing the cries for a few consecutive nights, a few villagers went ahead to Yong Hou Tomb to investigate.

In the end, the people who went, never came back again.

It was only then that the village chief realised something was amiss - he urged other villagers to head forth to locate the missing people on one hand, and on the other, reported this to the Gong County Magistrate Court. Officials sent some men over and also searched thoroughly, but did not manage to find the people who disappeared. The royal tombs are built right next to the Luo River, and officials guessed that these people could have accidentally fallen into the river when they returned in the night.

With this conclusion, the case was wrapped up as well.

After that for a long time, the cries were never heard again. The village seemed to have its peace restored. Aside from those villagers who lost their loved ones, everyone slowly forgot about this incident.

But just half a year ago, those chilling wails emerged again and were louder than before, seemingly accompanied by the roar of thunder. The village chief did not dare to be careless about this and anxiously reported this to the courts again. The Gong County Magistrate thought that the village chief was making a fuss over something small, coming off the previous incident, and so did not think much of this. However, because the royal tombs are located there, he still got some of his officers to bring some men to the village and investigate.

This time, they found three tomb raiding holes near both the tombs of Yong Hou and Yong Shao. It seemed that tomb raiders had their eyes on these two emperors’ resting places, and came for a visit. Regarding the royal tomb being stolen from, the magistrate did not dare to be careless either. And so, he ordered the officers and also six of the strongest and younger men from the village to stake out the royal tombs nearby, hoping to catch the tomb raiders.

Everything was quiet in the surroundings of the royal tombs as the first day passed. The moonlight was like water, and next to them, aside from the sound of the Luo River water flowing, nothing else was heard. Everything was peaceful. The same happened on the second day.

And on the third day, crisis struck.

Three officers, six villagers and the village chief, when they went, they were 10 people in total.

At the end, only two returned.

One of them was an officer, and the other was the village chief.

The first went mad, and the second turned dumb.

The one who went mad was the officer. The village chief and he ran back from nearby the royal tombs, one after the other, and he was incoherent. Whoever he saw, he would try to hit, not to mention saying anything while being in a clear state of mind. The village chief’s expression was filled with horror, and his body drenched in fresh blood. His state of mind was almost that of the officer’s.

After the prognosis of the physician, he concluded that the officer has probably been frightened to the point of insanity. He would probably like this for the rest of his life as there is no cure for it. Although the village chief is old and of dwindling strength, he did experience more things in life and instead, was more resilient than the young officer. After a period of rest, his mental state slowly improved.

However, whenever the happenings of that night were mentioned, the village chief could not be more silent and reluctant to say anything more. It was not until the magistrate himself came over to question him that the man began repeatedly chanting ‘it’s a ghost’ and ‘there’s a monster’ - words related to that. No matter how much they asked, they could not get anything substantive out of him.

The magistrate was out of ideas but also felt that this situation was strange, and so had no choice but to get the investigation reported to higher authorities until it reached Jing city.

“Ghost? Monster?”

In their small courtyard, Tang Fan considers both words and asks, “Could it be the tomb raiders pretending to be ghosts?”

Sui Zhou shakes his head, “I’ve also only just gotten this case. It’s very difficult to ascertain the accuracy of the magistrate’s report just by his words, we will have to head down there personally to make judgement. This happened in the jurisdiction of Henan, and I suspect it will be handed to the Department of Justice for an investigation, and then after that, it’ll also land on the head of the Henan’s Qing Li Si.

Tang Fan laughs bitterly, “That seems like a definite possibility.”

He stretches lazily, “Might as well. Anyway, I naturally have fidgety bones and cannot bear to be so leisurely. I’ve gotten tired of sitting in the courts, and if given the chance, I’d rather go out for a walk!”

Sui Zhou says in a low voice, “I also plan to go personally.”

Tang Fan is flattered, “It cannot be, Sui zhenfushi would like to fight by my side? This is truly this lowly official’s honour!”

Although Sui Zhou is officially only a qianhu, he has become the boss of the Northern Administrative Court in reality. Any higher up than him would be Yuan Bin, so between officials, everyone is already used to calling him “Sui zhenfushi”.

Of course, hearing Tang Fan call him that, the title sounds a little more like (light teasing) mockery than anything else.

Sui Zhou leans into the chair, and taking the cup of buckwheat tea from Ah Dong, he says lightly, “Fighting side by side, maybe not so much. Since I am the zhenfushi, I naturally have to handle all matters. For a small Rank Five official like you, you’ll have to listen to my commands then too.”

Of course, these words are coloured with mirth, as he says it like a joke.

Tang Fan laughs, “Then I’ll have to fight for that with you. You’re a Rank Five army official, and I’m a Rank Five civil official. Since the Ming dynasty came into being, it is always civil officials commanding army officials. If we follow the principle of a Rank Five civil official being allowed to command a Rank Four army official, even if your big boss Yuan came, I’m afraid he would still have to listen to my orders. Otherwise, for someone who as physically unfit as me, what will I do if I go? I can’t possibly head up personally to catch the criminals myself, right?”

He winks at Ah Dong, “Isn’t that right, sister?”

Ah Dong nods, “Yes.”

Tang Fan puts up his leg and proudly says to Sui Zhou, “It’s really good to have a sister, see how considerate my Ah Dong is!”

Ah Dong goes, “I’m saying that Sui-dage is right.”

Tang Fan is dissatisfied, “Why do you always favour the outsider?!”

“Of course I have to side with the outsider. Da-ge, all your money is now in Sui-dage’s hands. Without him, we’d both be homeless!!” she laughs.

Tang Fan retorts, “What do you mean by all?! I only gave him half, don’t I still give you grocery cash every month?!”

Sui Zhou then asks, “So tell us how much money you have on hand right now?”

With both of them staring at him with their four eyes, Tang Fan stammers, “A man’s savings is a secret, you can’t just ask like that!”

Ah Dong then asks Sui Zhou, “Sui-dage, how much money do you have?”

Sui Zhou doesn’t say that she cannot ask, and very honestly says, “I helped him to save 30 taels last year, and then together with the 350 taels he gave me previously, that’s 380 taels. I also have some savings from before, and together it totals up to 1400 taels.”

Ah Dong gaps, “Sui-dage you’re so rich!”

Tang Fan huffs twice in awkward laughter, “The weather is really great today! That dumpling dish has been left alone for too long and it’s waiting for us to eat then. How low class is it to speak about money, our mouths full of the stench of copper!”

Ah Dong covers her mouth as she laughs, “You hid your writing royalties under your pillows and did not submit it. And here I was wondering how long you’d hide it for, but in a flash, you went to buy another stack of useless novels!”

Tang Fan, embarrassed, says, “What do you mean useless books! That is Spring and Autumn, a Song dynasty publication that people can’t buy even if they have money. I only got it after looking out for the book of so long!”

Ah Dong blinks, “Well, there’s another one called The Legend of Chun Chao.”

Sui Zhou frowns, “Why does that name sound a little strange?”

“That’s a proper book on demons, don’t think so much!” he says, guilty.

If he didn’t say anything, that would still be okay, but the more he explains, the stranger it sounds.

“Give it to me so I can have a look later,” Sui Zhou says.

Ah Dong sticks out her tongue at Tang Fan, “I want to see it too!”

Tang-daren feels immense pain, “You took the manuscript for Aspirations of War previously and you haven’t returned it to me yet!”

Although Tang-daren does spend his free time writing fiction books as a way to pass the time and also to get some writing royalties as well, to say that all he writes is erotica fiction, this is truly an injustice to him. Take Aspirations of War for example, he reflected the history of the years of war during the Eastern Zhou period, but because the content is complex, he often does not have time to write it. Only now does he have two-thirds of it finished.

Innocently, Sui Zhou says, “I’m not done reading it yet, I’ll return it to you when I’m done.”

“And when will you finish it?”

“When you promise not to secretly hide your royalties,” Sui Zhou answers.

Tang-daren is so angry right now that he feels like he is capable of doing anything, as he expresses his objections and dissatisfaction at these unfair standards.

“Well you didn’t give me the money either!”

“But I don’t have a habit of spending money unnecessarily,” Sui Zhou’s explanation ends the argument.

“…”

His pride slides to the ground and shatters.

He’s rising up in the ranks as an official, but when he comes home, his status gets increasingly lower! Let him live!

He wants to run away from home…

Seeing how his ears are drooping downwards, Sui zhenfushi compassionately caresses at his friend’s head as if he would a dog, “I am not after your money. I just want to help you keep it. Who asked you to be so happy when you see books? We almost cannot stack them up anymore, you have to control yourself.”

Tang-daren’s face is filled with tears.

===

Notes:

*胳膊往外拐 ge bo wang wai guai

Literally means using your elbow to reach out and hook onto someone else - As a metaphor it means to side with outsiders instead of your closest friends or family.

*满嘴铜臭味 man zui tong chou wei

Literally means for one’s mouth to smell like the rotten stench of copper - as a metaphor it means that it is not good practice or manners to speak about money the way they are talking to each other.

*春潮记 chun chao ji

Sui Zhou is so scandalized when Ah Dong mentions this book - The Legend of Chun Chao, and that’s because when you break the characters down: Spring (chun), tide (chao) and legend/records (ji)

chun also can mean youth or a time of canoodling of sorts

chao can also have a sexual connotation, i.e. to climax

And that’s why he is like “that sounds strange” when Ah Dong reads the title out, and this book is in fact an old story about demons, but the more Tang Fan denies it, the more guilty he sounds basically.