#7900+ words

[lycorogue]

Latest Story: I Think I Like You (Maybe More Than I Should)

For @mostlovedgirl-writes

A companion story for her work Ha! You Think That’s Embarrassing? 

MLG, I warned you that you sparked something! What's worse is that I had this story done on May 14th, and it just kept me this long to sort out what to title the darn thing! 😅[smile with sweat emoji]

The Aged-Up AU that MLG created for her MariChat May ficlet was just too enticing for me to leave alone, so, naturally, I nearly quintupled her story as I retold the same tale but from Adrien's POV.

Why do stories keep running away from me like this!?

I want to send so many extra kudos and just general love MLG's way. I barely wrote anything the past two years. Because of MLG, I have now written my SECOND 7000+ word story in a month (the 1st story wasn't due to MLG, but still...)!

Also, I had I Think I Like You by The Band CAMINO on a constant loop while writing this story (which is how I finally landed on a title). So, if you want some mood music, I'd suggest using that.

Summary: Adrien is intrigued by one of the junior designers at his father's company. Maybe more intrigued than a few passing interactions with Marinette would warrant. At least, that's what Plagg jokes when Adrien notices Marinette on an abysmal date and decides to intervene... as Chat Noir. **An AU where Adrien and Marinette (as their civilian selves) never met as teens** Rating: General Audience (does contain the word "shit" once) Word Count: 7,974 Estimated Read Time: 40min Status: completed one-shot Continue reading below, or find this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

I Think I Like You (Maybe More Than I Should)

Adrien's brain began fogging over. He knew he was the face of the Gabriel brand, but did his father truly need him to sit in on every partnership meeting? He was little more than a fancy doll paraded out to lock in a new deal. Especially when he wasn't allowed to add any actual input.

Just smile. Say some pleasantries about wanting to work with them. Talk up the brand. Look pretty and professional.

It was a relief to see Nathalie stand up. It was Adrien's signal that his part of the meeting was finally over. He stood up as well, shook hands with the shoe execs that Gabriel was partnering with for the fall line, and practically sprinted out of the door as Nathalie passed out the contracts for the execs to sign.

He should have known better than to exit the room backwards so he could get in one last wave and thank you to their guests. In fairness, though, he didn't expect the hall to have traffic.

“Whoa!” The woman Adrien rudely collided into cried out as she flailed to try to catch her balance.

With his Chat-Noir-trained reflexes, Adrien swung his arm out to catch the woman around the waist. He gently tugged her back up onto her feet, but he didn't calculate her already throwing herself back into balance. She tilted the opposite direction, and Adrien ended up dipping her; his other hand supporting her shoulders – and her hands reflexively grabbing onto his – as her momentum finally stopped.

“Easy there!” He nervously laughed. Of course, he would collide with one of his father's employees as he tried to escape one of his father's meetings. He was sure he'd never hear the end of this.

“A-Adrien?” The woman squeaked in a panic. “I-I mean, Mr. Agreste?”

Her large eyes shined like blue zircon gemstones. Her strawberry-pink lips were partially parted in shock. Her raven hair dangled like a curtain behind her as Adrien held her in the dip. She was adorable. She also looked so familiar to him. Those eyes, in particular.

Agreste! Wake up! Realizing that his father's employee was still leaning awkwardly against his arm, Adrien cleared his throat and lifted the woman back onto her feet. He held her elbows to help steady her. Once he was confident that she wasn't going to fall, he took a step back and hoped his blush wasn't as visible as it felt as it burnt his cheeks.

“Adrien's fine. I'm not really into formalities, if I'm honest. Are you okay? Sorry about colliding into you like that.”

“N-no! That's alright. I'm fine. I should have been paying attention as well.”

Now that they weren't inches from each other, the woman started to shrink into herself. She couldn't keep eye contact with him and fidgeted. Her foot rubbed the back of the opposite leg and her arms flailed about as she talked. Seeing her so nervous definitely brought about a familiarity, and a name bobbed to the surface of Adrien's memory.

“Marinette, right? You're one of the junior designers?”

She squeaked with a start. “You-you know who I am?”

Adrien laughed. “Well, yeah. You fitted me for a few outfits for the spring line, didn't you?”

Marinette blushed. “Mm-hmm. The casual evening wear line.”

“That's the one!” Adrien snapped with acknowledgment. “Were any of those pieces yours?”

“Mine?” Marinette flailed her hands in front of her again. “No! I'm not nearly– I mean, my work isn't quite– I'm not ready for that. I-I did help with the color selection though.”

“Well, that's quite the accomplishment in and of itself. I think those were some of the most fun outfits I've worn in a while, and it was largely due to how bright the colors were. Really shook up all of those bland whites and blacks and tans menswear tends to fall into. You know?”

Marinette nodded like she was a freshly bopped bobblehead. Adrien struggled to not laugh at how adorable she was.

“Oh! I'm sorry. I'm holding you up!” Marinette's eyes again flew wide and her blush deepened. “And I need to take these– Oh no! The sketches!” Marinette stared at her hands, suddenly realizing they were empty. The sketches she was carrying before Adrien ran into her were carpeting the floor.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Adrien leaned down to help scoop up the papers, this time keeping an eye on the door to make sure they didn't end up tripping Nathalie and the execs as they left the conference room.

“No, that's alright. I have it.”

“I'm the reason they got scattered all over the floor in the first place. It's no problem. Really.”

As they scrambled to scoop up the papers – Adrien focused on the conference room door and Marinette focused on anything but Adrien – they bonked heads.

“Oof! Sorry. I seem to just keep running into you today.” Adrien sheepishly laughed.

“No-no. That was on me this time.” An awkward, lopsided smile spread across Marinette's lips as she gathered the last of the sketches.

They both stood, and Adrien held out the papers he had picked up. “We really need to find a better way to run into each other. Preferably one where we don't do so literally.”

“I love you,” she swooned. “That!” she quickly corrected. Her blush deepened. “I'd love that. The not running into you part. I mean, no! Not that part. I love running into you. Not literally though. That part. But I don't love running into you. It's not like I purposefully position myself so that I have an excuse to interact with you. That would be weird and stalker-y and I definitely don't do that. I mean why did I even put that out there? Now you think that's exactly what I do, but I swear I don't. I just–”

Adrien softened as he listened to Marinette. There was something about her rambling that was equal parts confusing and endearing. He cocked his head to the side while waiting for her to get to the point.

“You're so nice,” she continued at that same frantic pace. Her papers slid out of her arms due to the uneven pressure she was putting on them. She juggled them a bit as her mouth kept going. “You don't have to be nice. Everyone would probably expect you to not be nice. Not not-nice. I mean, indifferent? But you're not. You're super nice. I mean, you put in the effort to remember my name. Plus, you didn't need to help me with these.” She held up her uneven pile of papers. “And you're standing here listening to me going on-and-on and good grief why am I still talking? I'm holding you up and I really need to get going as well and yet I just can't seem to stop talking. I'm so embarrassing. But you're still here listening to me, because you're so sweet and I just want to spend all night talking to you. And it seems like maybe you'd be willing? So, maybe we could go and grab dinner tonight after work or something?”

Marinette stopped with a gasp as she tried to refill her empty lungs.

Adrien politely chuckled. “You good?”

Marinette's blush quickly drained as the woman went pale as a ghost. Her eyes bugged out and her mouth slacked.

“I did not just do that!”

“Hmm?” Adrien cocked his head. His mind still frantically trying to sort through the word-vomit Marinette just spat up all over him.

She started backing away from him. “Ignore everything I just said. I don't want to date you. Not that I wouldn't date you if you wanted. Actually, no! You wouldn't– I mean I wouldn't– I mean I'm so sorry. My bad. I just remembered that I already have a date with someone else tonight. A very nice date. One that I've been looking forward to. With someone not you. So clearly I'm not waiting to go on a date with you. Because I have a date with someone else. Tonight! Definitely already have a date tonight. Sorry. Gotta go!” Then she sprinted down the hall.

There was a commotion behind Adrien and the conference door opened. Adrien mindlessly stepped out of the way as the execs filed out of the room, followed by Nathalie.

“Adrien?” she asked. “What are you still doing here? Something wrong?”

Adrien didn't register Nathalie talking to him. He looked through her and down the hall where Marinette had sprinted. His mind finally sorting through what happened.

“Did she just ask me out?”

“Huh? Who? Who asked you out?” Nathalie looked over her shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry. Never mind. It's nothing.”

Nathalie frowned. “I have to escort our guests out, but we'll talk about this later. You know how your father feels about you dating.”

Adrien waved Nathalie off and walked in the direction Marinette had sprinted.

The woman was quick! Adrien couldn't have lagged that far behind, but he couldn't find her anywhere. He couldn't even determine which office she was aiming for.

He tried looking for her office. Turned out that she was still too entry-level to have her own. With some effort – it was hard trying to bluff his way around the ���why do you need Marinette?” question – he managed to sort out where her work desk was. She wasn't there either.

“What's the big deal with this girl?” Plagg poked his head out from behind Adrien's blazer. “Can't you just wait until the next time you just naturally see each other?”

Adrien scanned the hall to make sure they were alone. “Plagg,” he hissed, “You know you can't come out of hiding while I'm not in my office at work! It's too easy for you to get caught.”

“Pfft. We're fine. Believe me. I take way more notice of who's around us than you seem to, Mr. Literally-runs-into-somebody-twice.”

Adrien simply shook his head at his kwami.

“But, seriously. Don't you have anything better to do than try to track her down?”

“Probably, but I don't care. I need to talk to her again.”

“Why?”

Adrien stopped.

“I... don't really know. She intrigues me, and I guess I do kind of want to take her up on that date invite. Just so I can get to learn more about her. And she seemed so nervous around me. I need to check in with her. Make sure she's okay and that the two of us are good.”

“I'm sure that's all this is.” Plagg cocked an eyebrow before zipping back into hiding.

Adrien heaved his exasperation with Plagg's interrogation before continuing down the hallway. Maybe if he grabbed a treat from the breakroom to appease his kwami Plagg wouldn't tease him further.

“Okay, I'll meet you at Bastian's tonight at eight.”

Ladybug?

Adrien nearly sprinted towards the dominant voice. When he popped his head through the breakroom door, however, he instead spotted the same loose, medium-length, raven hair that had draped down his arm nearly an hour before. After all of her stammering around him, Adrien didn't recognize Marinette's more confident tone as hers.

She had both hands firmly planted on a table, her back towards the door. A thirty-something-year-old man with wire-rimmed glasses not properly shaped for his round face, a god-awful pencil mustache, and mousy-brown hair slicked back with far too much product sat across from Marinette. The man's basic white button-down shirt wasn't even properly ironed. Adrien was clear across the room and he could still see the wrinkles lining the man's sleeves. The man's tie was also a basic black and horribly dated. Adrien wondered if he had bought it for a school dance as a teen and just never replaced it.

“My reservation is actually for 7:30.” The man shrugged. “I prefer to not eat too late into the evening. I get heartburn then.”

“Okay. Fine.” Marinette's shoulders slumped a little.

“And don't forget to dress up nice. None of–” The man gestured to Marinette's lovely pastel pink capped-sleeve blouse and flowy cement-gray knee-length skirt adorned with cherry blossoms. “–this. I want Date Night not Office Space.”

Adrien scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Well, yeah. Of course.” Marinette backed away from the table and rubbed her elbow nervously.

With a huff, Adrien stormed away from the breakroom.

Seriously? Him? What does Marinette even see in him?

“I didn't even realize Marinette had a thing for Jules.”

Adrien pivoted at the mention of Marinette. A man and woman walked out of the breakroom, gossiping with each other.

“Have they even talked to each other before today?”

“If they have, then Marinette's a miracle worker for getting a word in edge-wise against the Jabberwocky.”

“She's pretty meek. Maybe she prefers being talked at.”

“Well, here's hoping she's also a masochist, because those are the only ones who could possibly enjoy the mental agony of interacting with that guy.”

The two workers laughed as they approached Adrien.

“Oh!” The female worker jumped slightly upon noticing him. “Mr. Agreste. What a pleasure to see you. What are you doing on the third floor? Something we can assist with?”

“No. Sorry.” Adrien put on his patented Model Smile(TM) as he scratched the back of his head. “I was just getting my steps in.” He held up his wrist to show off his fancy watch. It didn't register his steps, but he hoped it looked high-tech enough that they wouldn't notice. “I should probably head back to my office, though. Carry on.”

With a wave, he made a bee-line back to his office on the twelfth floor.

“Huh. I would not have guessed that guy was Marinette's type.” Plagg floated back out from Adrien's blazer and drifted over to the mini-fridge Adrien had put into his office.

Adrien plopped into a plush club chair he kept in the corner of the room. “Me neither. What does she see in him? For someone so fashion-forward and quirky and adorable–?”

“Maybe this is a case of opposites attract?”

“He sounded so rude towards her, didn't he? And then those employees joking about his endless talking and how painful it is to just interact with him? Does Marinette see something in him that no one else does?”

“Marinette seemed to be a bit of a motor-mouth herself.”

“Yeah, but hers was different.”

“How so?”

“It just... was. Okay?”

Plagg shrugged and gobbled down a large slice of Camembert. “Ah, to be a fly on the wall during that date.” He laughed. “If that woman could handle the– what did those guys call him? Jabberwocky? I like that. If Marinette could slay the Jabberwocky I wish I could be there to see that. Oh! Or the two of them just rambling at each other; holding two different conversations? Either way, get me the popcorn.”

“I am curious. Maybe it isn't as bad as it seemed in the few seconds that I caught. Their interactions, I mean.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. I'm sure there's something there that we don't know. Marinette wouldn't go on a date as awful as I'm thinking.”

“How could you know that? You barely know the girl.”

“That is true.” Adrien hung his head in his hands. Why was he even so fixated on this? Plagg was right. He only really knew Marinette in passing. It was none of his business. Even if it was a bad date, so what? Everyone has had terrible dates that they've suffered through.

Ones that they wished they could pull a rip-cord on.

That maybe they didn't have an escape plan for, but wished they did.

Marinette's gemstone eyes flitted into Adrien's mind.

He whipped out his phone and looked up the number for Bastian's.

“Hello? Yes. This is Adrien Agreste. Yes, that Adrien Agreste. I was wondering if you had an opening for a solo-diner tonight? I was hoping for around 7:20? Oh, no. A VIP table isn't necessary at all. Public dining is perfect. Fantastic. See you then. Thank you.”

Adrien turned from Plagg's knowing look. “What?” he asked his kwami, “I heard that Bastian's has a delicious salmon risotto.”

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

The quality of the salmon risotto was highly exaggerated.

It wasn't bad. It was a textbook execution of the dish, worthy of high marks at any culinary school. The flavoring was just a bit bland despite the chef clearly being a bit heavy-handed with the butter.

That didn't really matter though. Adrien wasn't particularly hungry anyway.

His stomach felt heavy and the back of his brain was itchy. He had no clue what he was doing there. The whole thing was insane.

It hit him all at once the moment he caught a glimpse of Marinette's raven hair coming around the corner behind the hostess. He realized that he had no excuse to be at this mid-grade (at best) restaurant. Not the same one that she just-so-happened to have a reservation for. And not at the same time as the aforementioned reservation. Definitely not while also eating alone!

I can't let her catch me here!

Adrien quickly pivoted to a different seat at his table so his back was towards her. As discretely as possible, he slid his meal over to his new spot. He then shrugged his sweater a little higher up the back of his neck and shagged his hair slightly. Similar to how he used to wear it when he was a teen. With any luck, she wouldn't recognize him.

He felt Plagg snake his way around his back and down to Adrien's hip. Plagg then phased his head through the sweater. “Plagg!” Adrien hissed under his breath.

“Calm down,” Plagg whispered back. “No one looks at someone else's hips. I just want to see this disaster.”

“No,” Adrien intoned, trying to not move his lips too much and get caught talking to 'himself'. “We're not spying on Marinette and her date. I'm sure it will be fine.” He poked some more at his risotto and wondered how bad it would look if he just downed it as fast as possible so he could escape.

“You're no fun,” Plagg huffed, but he didn't bother to retreat into the sweater.

Despite himself, as Adrien worked his way through his dinner, he attuned his ears to Marinette's table. His hearing wasn't as keen as it would have been if he was Chat Noir, but, over the years, he had trained his senses to be a bit more sensitive than usual, even out of costume.

Training his sense of touch was probably a poor decision, though. Especially with how many hands roam his body between fittings and shoots and quick-changes....

It seemed to work in his favor that night though. The entire meal, he barely heard Marinette say five words – outside of ordering her steak with the waiter – but Adrien could not get away from her date's dreary voice. Marinette's coworkers were right, however, and the woman was always more on the meek, non-confrontational side anyway. It was possible that she was somehow enjoying the endless conversation. Except, Adrien's sort of sixth sense – due to his heightened touch sensitivity – made him acutely aware of Marinette's discomfort.

Well, it was either the sixth sense thing or Plagg's wincing at Adrien's hip.

Despite warnings about cats and curiosity, Adrien couldn't help himself. He nudged his way around the table again. Shimmying closer and closer to his original chair before smoothly shifting to it and pushing his other chair back into place. Then he slid his half-eaten bowl back in front of him. Then the glass of wine.

He refused to keep going so he was full-on facing Marinette, but he could at least keep an eye on her in his peripheral now. He didn't like what he saw.

Her back was tight and tall. Her shoulders raised towards her ears. Her upper arms were flexed as she fidgeted with something under the table. A miasma of irritation seemed to radiate from her, and Adrien wondered if she was going to literally try to slay the Jabberwocky. Did this restaurant somehow have vorpal knives?

Adrien desperately wanted to just intervene. He wasn't sure at this point if doing so would be rescuing Marinette from her date or the other way around.

“And that was how my third marriage ended,” Jules monotoned across from Marinette.

How is that guy so loud? I get the masochism comment now, Adrien thought.

As Marinette filled her side of the conversation with yet another sip of water she started to take in the restaurant around her. In a flash, Adrien was laser-focused on the last bites of his risotto.

Please, don't let her see me, he mentally chanted, subtly shifting his head so he was turned away from her. If she catches me here I'm done for!

Right. He had no plausible reason to be at the same restaurant as her at the same time as her and right after she told him she had a date tonight. He'd be outed as a stalker or something! His father would throw him into lock-down if that ever got out! And, considering how recognizable he was, there was no way the other patrons wouldn't videotape him interrupting a woman's date and probably getting called an obsessive creep by that same woman.

Marinette had walked back – well, black-hole-absorbed back – her date invite to Adrien specifically so she could still come here with Jules. She must have had a reason to prefer the Jabberwocky's company. Maybe Adrien somehow offended her when they collided earlier. Maybe she had gotten in trouble after being late with those sketches. Maybe she didn't want anything to do with Adrien Agreste anymore. Wouldn't be a good look to ride in and try to White Knight for Marinette then. He didn't want to seem possessive of her.

His risotto finally done, he gently reached out to a passing waiter and requested the check.

“This is great,” Plagg whispered from his watch party at Adrien's hip still. “She's just gazing out the window now; not even looking at the guy. And he's still talking! I think he just likes the sound of his own voice.”

“That's hard to imagine,” Adrien intoned.

He thanked the waiter for the check, and quickly handed him in his payment. After confirming that the waiter was also assisting Marinette's table, Adrien included a nearly fifty-percent tip in hopes that it would help compensate for having to deal with Marinette's date. Meal consumed and paid for, Adrien placed his napkin on the table and stood to leave.

��Aww.” Plagg snaked back around to Adrien's chest just under his cable-knit sweater. “The train wreck isn't over yet.”

“Oh, yes it is.”

“Adrien?” Plagg warned. Adrien quickly shushed him.

He walked past Marinette's table as fast as possible while still looking nonchalant. He again prayed that she wouldn't notice him there.

“So, last year I went snorkeling with...”

Adrien struggled to not roll his eyes and scream at Jules to just shut up already as he caught the man still droning on at poor Marinette.

Just look forward. Don't react. Get out of here before she notices you! he ordered himself.

Adrien got to the front of the restaurant with no incident. He heaved a relieved sigh, thanked the wait staff and the hostess, and headed out the door. Fighting against his desire to full-tilt sprint, he casually followed the sidewalk along the front of the building. As soon as he reached the small alley between the restaurant and the neighboring building, however, he dashed into its welcoming shadows.

“Adrien?” Plagg asked with a challenging tone, “What are you planning? Nothing stupid, I hope.”

“Oh. It most definitely is. Plagg-”

“Adrien! Don't! You can't use your powers for personal gain, remember?” Plagg rattled off in a panic.

“What personal gain? Chat Noir is a hero, isn't he? And I'm rescuing Marinette. It's all on the up-and-up.”

“Adrien!”

“Plagg, claws out!”

“Adrien, no!” Plagg got sucked into Adrien's ring before he could fight his holder any further. In an instant, Chat Noir stood where Adrien was a moment before.

“Now, let's go rescue a citizen.”

Chat Noir puffed out his chest and casually walked back into Bastian's. He gave the hostess a salute as he walked past her. “Not dining today,” he called over his shoulder, “Just need to do a quick pop-in. Don't mind me.”

As he passed by the tables within the dining room the patrons all started to mutter among themselves about him.

“No need to panic,” he reassured them. “Paris is safe. Go back to your meals.”

It was too late. The restaurant was already abuzz and everyone was too focused on him to even think about their food anymore.

The only one unfazed by Chat Noir's presence was none other than Marinette's lout of a date.

Marinette, on the other hand, stared up at Chat Noir with those shining blue zircon eyes that had captured him earlier that day.

“Hello, Miss,” Chat Noir greeted. He rested one hand on the back of Marinette's chair, and the other he balled up before resting it on his hip. It took imagining Ladybug's disappointed scowl to keep him from using his balled fist to punch out Marinette's date.

“Buh-blah-uh?” Marinette blabbered in shock.

Chat Noir struggled to not smirk at how cute even Marinette blue-screening was. “Pardon my rudeness, but could I borrow you for a moment? Won't take but a sec.” He then winked at her to let her know that he understood her situation; he was there as her out.

Clearly still blue-screened, Marinette slowly pivoted her head back towards her date. Jules did not look impressed that a superhero was currently standing at their table.

“Excuse me,” Jules grunted, “but you're interrupting our date.”

Marinette slowly pivoted her head back towards Chat Noir, awaiting his response.

Chat Noir turned to regard the boorish man. It was so ironic to Chat Noir that this other man was complaining about interrupting dates. Him! He was the one who was interrupting so many dates within that restaurant with his loud droning. Let alone his prevention of Adrien's date with Marinette that night. Besides, how did he not notice that Marinette was desperate for someone to interrupt the date?

Taking a long, soothing breath, Chat Noir stood straight, his hand no longer resting on Marinette's chair. Once again breaking out his Model Smile(TM), Chat Noir relaxed his body in an attempt to disarm.

“Oh, right,” he said with a thick layer of honey in his voice. “Sorry about that. Interrupting a date is so annoying. I totally get that.”

Like a skilled magician, Chat Noir distracted from his hands with his winning smile. Meanwhile, his left hand scooped up Marinette's right.

“Let me just get out of your way,” Chat Noir finished with a coo. In a flash, he tugged on Marinette's hand, spinning her out of her chair and into his arms. After catching her in his arms earlier, it was a welcome return to feel her weight against him again.

Marinette was still stun-locked. Her only acknowledgment of what just happened was the rosy coloring flooding her cheeks.

Shifting his arm so it was draped around Marinette's shoulder, he confirmed that she had her purse on her. Chat Noir then gave Marinette's former date a two-finger salute before escorting Marinette out of the restaurant. Once they were outside, he detached his stick from his back. In one, smooth, solid motion, he scooped Marinette up into a bridal carry while extending his stick to vault up onto the nearest roof.

Upon landing, he shifted her slightly so he could reattach his weapon to his back before again lifting her into a bridal carry. A moment later, they were off. He wasn't sure where he was going. He just let his feet lead him. All he knew was that he couldn't be anywhere near that restaurant or that oaf of a date.

With the same ease as a leisurely jog around a track, Chat Noir ran across the rooftops of Paris with Marinette in his arms. He leapt across the gaps between buildings as if he was hopping over puddles to avoid getting his shoes wet. He felt so free and the weight of Marinette in his arms renewed his energy.

As they neared the Seine, Chat Noir stopped within a rooftop garden. It was a gorgeous view, between the flowers, the lights reflecting off the river, and a cozy-looking garden bench tucked within the flora.

Chat Noir gently rested Marinette back on her feet, holding her hands to support her while she regained her bearings.

“You okay, Miss?”

“Uh...” She blinked at him. Her face shifted between confusion, relief, shock, and frustration as if those emotions were on shuffle play. She finally settled on stupefied. “I'm sorry. What just happened?”

She was too cute. Chat Noir couldn't help himself. He chuckled. “I think I just rescued you from the world's worst date.”

Marinette cringed and moaned in embarrassment. “Believe it or not, I've had worse.”

She circled around Chat Noir, studying him. It unnerved him slightly, but he tried to not let it show. He reminded himself that there was no way that she'd know that he was Adrien Agreste.

“But why me?” she asked. “You don't even know me.”

Chat Noir pursed his lips. He was not expecting that question. Why wasn't he expecting that question?

“Let's just say–” his mind raced for a suitable answer. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “–I know a guy who asked me for a favor.”

Ha! Perfect! Vague but plausible.

Marinette's face fell and her shoulders slacked. “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, more to herself than to Chat Noir. “You know Adrien Agreste.” Her eyes darted up to meet Chat Noir's. “He contacted you somehow, didn't he?”

Shit!

Marinette must have spotted Adrien in the restaurant after all. He was never going to live this down! With any luck – of which he was sure he had virtually none – his mask would at least hide the blush burning his cheeks. He broke eye contact with Marinette and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “What makes you think that?”

With a groan, Marinette fell onto the bench nestled between the flower boxes. She buried her face in her hands, muttering “no, no, no, no” into her palms. She then let out another whimpering groan.

“Hey. Are... you okay?” Chat Noir sat beside her. With a moment of hesitation, nervous that he was the source of her woes, he tentatively placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“I can't believe Adrien saw me on that awful date.”

Oh, good. He was the source of her woes. Excellent.

Chat Noir choked down his own whimpering groan.

“I'm so embarrassed,” Marinette continued.

Chat Noir tilted his head in confusion. Why was Marinette embarrassed? She caught her boss's son basically stalking her. He'd understand her being angry or feeling violated, but embarrassed?

“I feel like I'm missing something. So, what's the story?”

“It's a long one,” Marinette grumbled. She dropped her hands to her lap and rested her head against the back of the bench, gazing up at the starless sky.

Chat Noir smirked. He'd love a long story from Marinette.

“I'm all ears.” He willed the false cat ears atop his head to twitch and wiggle.

Marinette laughed. It was the loveliest sound Chat Noir could recall hearing. He melted a little as he settled in next to her, readying himself for Story Time.

She took a deep breath to steel herself and heaved out a heavy sigh. “There's this guy at work – tall, blond, sweet, and so handsome I melt into the floor every time I see him.”

Chat Noir hoped Marinette didn't hear him gulp his heart back into his chest.

“He even smells amazing,” she whined with yearning.

Chat Noir fought the urge to sniff himself that very instant, and the follow-up urge to wiggle closer to Marinette so she could perchance catch a whiff. Which one of them was downwind? Why wasn't there any wind right now?

Clearing his throat slightly, Chat Noir teased, “Okay, so you know Adrien from work.” He gestured as if offering the right of way to Marinette. “Go on.”

Marinette glared up at him with a little pout. It was adorable, but still sent a chill down Chat Noir's spine. It felt familiar somehow. As if he'd faced That Look at least a dozen times before.

“I never said it was Adrien.”

Oh. This is going to be fun, Chat Noir thought as he fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He dramatically crossed one leg over the other, then rested his chin in his hand. His other hand casually draped across his thigh. With a wisp in his voice, Chat Noir asked, “Oh? So, who is mister tall, fair, and handsome?”

Marinette flushed with embarrassment. She whipped away from Chat Noir's playful gaze, instead focusing on her thumbnails as she picked at them. “It doesn't matter!”

“Mm-hmm,” Chat Noir challenged.

Marinette shifted in her seat, rolling her shoulders before again gazing up at the sky. “Anyway, this guy from work, I've...” She cautiously glanced back over at Chat Noir as she bit down on her thumbnail.

He straightened, relaxing both hands to seem more sincere. The shift in posture appeared to have put Marinette more at ease. She stopped biting on her nail, lowering her hand back to her lap.

“I've had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on him for the longest time.” She slammed the back of her head against the back of the bench. She screwed her eyes shut and whimpered a little before continuing. “I ran into him in the hall earlier today–”

Literally, and the other way around, Chat Noir thought with an embarrassed chuckle.

“–and in a fit of complete insanity I asked him out.”

A warm wave washed over Chat Noir. The confirmation that she had meant to extend the invitation made his heart skip in a way he wasn't expecting.

“Doesn't sound so bad.” Chat Noir hoped his glee didn't spill over into his voice. He had to remain neutral and detached from the situation. Neutral and Detached. Neutral. And. Detached.

“But then I realized what I had done,” she continued, “I got all flustered and started babbling, said, 'Sorry, my bad. I just remembered that I have a date with someone else tonight,' and ran away.” She glanced back over at Chat Noir and gestured as if to say, “ta-da! I'm an idiot!”

Chat Noir bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing. It really was a ridiculous situation, now that Marinette laid it out so plainly. How could she be so cute and yet so insecure?

“And why did you do that?”

“Because,” she whined, “he's Adrien Agreste!” She threw her hands out, gesturing to the sky in desperation. “Not only is he France's top model and so far out of my league that I can't even see his league without a telescope, but also–” She violently shook her hands out in front of her, as if she were mentally shaking sense into herself. “He's my boss's son! I can't even begin to fathom how inappropriate asking him out like that was.” She screamed out her embarrassment before hiding behind her hands again. “I panicked and ran,” she finished softly.

Chat Noir wanted to pull her in for a hug so bad. The poor thing! He was right. She had meant to ask him out, and just revoked the offer because she got nervous.

How on Earth did that Jules guy get involved then?

“So,” Chat Noir drew out the word as he tried to sort out a non-judgmental way to ask, “after asking out the guy you wanted to go out with, how did you end up on a date with that other guy?”

“Ugh, it's so embarrassing.” Her chest heaved in mock sobs. “I was still panicking and wasn't thinking straight, and I heard that guy – I think he's from accounting or something – say that his date for tonight had fallen through.”

Gee, I wonder why.... Chat Noir mentally rolled his eyes.

“I didn't want Adrien to think that I had lied to him about having a date already–”

“Which you had,” Chat Noir teasingly pointed out.

“–so I asked him out. Right there in the breakroom. In front of all of my coworkers!”

Chat Noir pursed his lips as he choked down a laugh. When that wasn't enough he clapped a hand over his mouth to try to better hide his amusement. Now was not the time to laugh about how unhinged the whole situation was. That would be the last thing Marinette would need when she was already having a rough time with it.

Marinette again cradled her head in her hands. “You can go ahead and laugh. I deserve it. I'm such a loser.”

Okay. Definitely not the time to laugh.

“Nah, you're not a loser.” He gently elbowed her to try to catch her attention. “Delightfully awkward, but not a loser.”

“I'm going to have to quit my job and move to America, and start designing ready-to-wear for a department store,” she moaned into her hands.

Chat Noir knew that very sentiment painfully well. “A valid career path, but why are you moving an ocean away?”

Marinette sunk further onto the bench, bending nearly in half as she hid within her hands. “I'll never be able to show my face at Gabriel or any other fashion house in Paris again.”

“I don't think it's as bad as all that. Sure, you had one embarrassing day at work, but who hasn't?”

Marinette scoffed.

“Even Adrien has embarrassed himself in public,” Chat Noir ventured.

Marinette stilled for a heartbeat. Slowly, she sat up a little straighter and peeked out from behind her hands. “Really? But he's so perfect.”

“Pfft. Hardly!” Chat Noir dismissively waved off the very idea. He then draped an arm along the back of the bench and recrossed his legs.

Marinette studied him. Those zircon eyes flickered between pleading to be reassured and questioning if Chat Noir was simply jealous of Adrien.

The woman had been through the wringer that day, and had already suffered enough simply by going on a date with the Jabberwocky. Chat Noir wasn't sure why, but he trusted that Marinette would never weaponize someone else's embarrassment. It was time to break out the big guns.

Chat Noir nonchalantly shrugged. “His first modeling job after lycée, he had a horrible cold. Someone offered him one of those vitamin-C tablets that you're supposed to dissolve in a cup of hot water before drinking. Oblivious kid that he was, he put the tablet in his mouth and drank a cup of warm water.”

He shuddered remembering the next part. The vile taste returned to his mouth through recollection alone.

Marinette's eyes widened. Her mouth formed into an astonished 'o' and she slowly covered her silent gasp with her hand. She was getting ahead of his story.

Chat Noir nodded that she was on the right track. “The tablet started dissolving in his mouth and foaming over everything. It got all over his clothes; the furniture; the floor. It was like he had rabies! Everyone started laughing and calling him 'Atomic Blond'. He was so embarrassed that he vowed to move to New Zealand and become a sheep herder.”

“Oh, no!” Marinette laughed; breathy, secondhand-embarrassed, sympathetic laughs. Chat Noir could practically hear her thinking 'poor thing'. “How have I not heard that story before?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “His dad worked his PR magic and covered it up.”

More like Nathalie worked her magic, but to-may-to to-mah-to.

Marinette arched an eyebrow. “How do you know about it?”

“Sorry. That's a trade secret.” He pressed a finger to his lips and winked.

Marinette sighed. Getting off the bench, she gently stroked the flower petals as she passed by them. She wove her way through the lush garden and wandered over to the railing lining the roof. With a deep breath, she took in their gorgeous city. Her shoulders were relaxed. Her one foot was hooked around her other ankle, but she wasn't fidgety. She was the most calm and at peace that Chat Noir remembered ever seeing her.

“Thank you, Chat Noir.” She turned back towards him and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “I'm glad I won't have to move to another continent.”

Chat Noir joined her by the railing. “Decided to stay?”

Marinette puffed out her chest and stood tall. “If Adrien can still show his face at work after a day like that, then so can I.” A breath later, she puckered her lips and her bravado washed away. “I'll just make sure to stay in the basement where he'll never see me again.”

Chat Noir knew he definitely couldn't allow that to happen.

[break]

Their evening was over too soon. It wasn't the date Adrien pictured for the 2.5 seconds he had to process before Marinette had revoked her offer, but it was still a mostly-lovely evening with the intriguing woman. As Adrien got ready for bed, he already knew it was going to be a struggle to get his mind to stop thinking about Marinette long enough to fall asleep.

That was, at least, until he caught the evening news. Amateur photos and videos of Chat Noir in Bastian's confronting a patron and spiriting a citizen away flooded his TV.

“Oh, no!”

“And this is why we don't use our powers for personal gain,” Plagg said as he floated by, not prepared to give more of a lecture than that single sentence.

Adrien faceplanted into his pillows and screamed. “Ladybug is going to kill me!”

“There's always sheep herding in New Zealand.”

“Not. Helpful. Plagg.”

“Didn't realize you were expecting helpful,” Plagg teased.

Somehow, Plagg's snarkiness did help. Adrien chuckled.

“Do you think I at least helped Marinette tonight, Plagg?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it weird that I almost wish I had told her the vitamin-C story as Adrien? Have a real bonding moment between us? Maybe she'd be less nervous around me then.”

“I find it hard to believe that she could ever to be nervous around you now anyway, Mr. Atomic Blond.”

“You know, I don't think I'd mind if she called me that.” He chuckled at the thought.

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

The tick of the wall clock tormented Adrien as he sat through a seemingly endless morning meeting. He had always hated these meetings, but it was extra agonizing that morning. Marinette was in that very building at that very moment. But she wasn't in that room.

Adrien rapidly tapped his foot while he focused the rest of his energy on keeping the remainder of his body painfully still. He had no recollection of any words that were said for the past twenty minutes. He couldn't describe a single slide shown explaining the company's growth.

He needed out of this conference room. He was going feral.

Finally, the meeting broke, and Adrien was free.

He didn't bother with the elevator. He couldn't be trapped somewhere again. Besides, he could move faster on the stairs. Especially when he only took every third step and swung himself around each landing (saving him another 5 steps or so per floor).

He bee-lined it to Marinette's work desk. Just like the day before, she wasn't there. Adrien began wondering if he even had the right desk.

“I'll just make sure to stay in the basement where he'll never see me again.”

Adrien knew where to find Marinette!

He didn't care who caught him this time, he sprinted down the four flights of stairs to the basement. As he exited onto the floor he took a moment to even his quickened breaths. He wasn't sure if they were from the sprint or the anticipation of seeing Marinette again. Either way, he couldn't see Marinette while panting. Like that was the right impression to give!

His breaths once again steady, he checked that his clothes were neat and straight, and his hair was in place.

Perfect.

Now to just oh-so-casually bump (not literally) into Marinette.

The first few rooms he checked were empty. He wondered if maybe Marinette wasn't hiding. Did she take a personal day? She didn't actually move to America, right?

Then he heard muttering within the sample fabrics. His heart fluttered. He had found her.

Her back was again towards the door when he poked his head in. She had an armful of fabrics, and was holding up a sea foam swatch against a pastel teal one, trying to decide which shade to go with.

Adrien leaned casually on the door jamb, hands in his pockets and his ankles crossed.

“Hi. Marinette, right?”

“Gah!” Marinette jumped as she spun around, dropping her fabrics as she pressed herself against the rack of silks behind her.

That didn't go as smoothly as he had planned.

Adrien pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them up non-threateningly. “Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Didn't you. I mean-I didn't. I mean-you didn't!” She pinched her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

Why was she so cute?

“Oh. That's good.” Why was he dragging out each word?

Come on, Agreste! he berated himself, You know she likes you! Why is this so hard?

It was probably because Adrien had never asked anyone out before. It had always been the other way around. Girls fawning for him. His father dictating who he should date to better improve the brand. That sort of thing.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you–” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. What if Marinette just bolted again and YOLO-asked yet another coworker out simply to avoid Adrien? He needed to take his shot though. He could do this! “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Please say 'yes'. Please say 'yes.' Please say 'yes'.

Adrien wasn't sure he'd seen Marinette's eyes grow so large before.

“Uh– Bah– Bluh–?”

Adrien smiled. Throwback to when Chat Noir interrupted Marinette's atrocious date. The two of them seemed to have had a lovely evening after she did that stammering. Maybe this was a good-luck omen or something.

“Is that a yes?” he teased.

Marinette snapped her mouth shut and nodded.

Adrien chuckled. “Great! I know this wonderful little café by the river. What time do you get off for lunch?”

“Tw-tw-tw-tw–” Marinette pinched herself. “Twelve-thirty,” she gasped out.

Adrien checked his watch. It was half-past-eleven. He didn't have to wait too much longer. “Perfect. I'll come back for you in an hour.”

Glancing at the floor, he noticed that he again forced Marinette to drop what she was holding. He quickly scooped up the fabrics and passed them over to her. “See you later, Marinette.”

“Mm-hmm,” she intoned as she nodded. She held out her arms to accept the fabrics Adrien had gathered.

Pivoting on his heels, he gave her a quick wave over his shoulder and strode back out of the room, fighting the impulse to skip away.

He climbed every single stair leading up to his twelfth-floor office. He needed to get out the giddy energy, as well as find a way to kill the next sixty minutes. Even with Adrien pausing every couple of floors to do a mini tap-dance routine in the stairwell, he still only killed about eleven minutes.

The next forty-nine minutes were filled with endless twirls in his desk chair, memorizing the café's menu, non-stop ribbing from Plagg, and probably far more cartwheels than a twenty-something-year-old man should be doing in a business suit and within the confines of a corner office.

.

** Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you want me to tag you on any of my writing updates** @discoveringmiraculouswriters

[kingofthecotas]

edge of the universe | ~8k words

Flight Manifest: USS Helios Captain: Valentino Rossi Commander, Flight Systems: Marc Márquez   It’s not that Valentino didn’t know he was assigned to his ship. Rear Admiral Stoner had informed him, with the kind of smile only present when Rear Admiral Stoner was experiencing schadenfreude, that Márquez had been passed fit to return to duty aboard the Helios.

star trek au

[lovequartz]

under wisteria blossoms

⊱ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x reader

⊱ genre: small town, acquaintances to lovers, fluff & angst

⊱ warnings: historical inaccuracy, self-image and self-esteem issues, period-typical views (marriage/women)

⊱ word count: 7900+

⊱ tonight, i’ll send the glow of a firefly to somewhere near your window

⊱ notes: happy and somewhat relived to be able to share this, i think like aoybb this is something that i worked really hard on and tried my best with <3

The boy's skin feels warm and clammy underneath Wonwoo’s fingers. He’s glad the family called him when they did, thankfully the young boy’s condition had been better than he’d anticipated. He hangs his stethoscope back into its place over his shoulders and turns to the boy’s grandfather. 

“It’s a mild fever, he should be feeling better with a few doses of herbal tea and lots of rest,” Wonwoo pauses to pull the young boy’s shirt down and the sheet covering him, back up, “please don’t hesitate to call me if anything changes.” 

Your father walks the doctor to the door and bids him farewell with a firm handshake as well as a pat on the shoulder. As soon as the door shuts you move to change the washcloth resting on your nephew’s head.

“You could’ve greeted him properly rather than peek at him from the hallway,” your father teases. 

You shake your head as your hands busy themselves with wringing the washcloth. “He was so handsome,” you sigh, “I almost broke into a rash just staring at him.” You place the now cool fabric back into place across your nephew’s forehead, and press your moist hands against your cheeks in a futile effort to bring a chill to your warm face. Perhaps you’re the one with the fever now.

Your paths do not cross with the young and handsome doctor until sometime a week or two later. Your parents had insisted you bring him a small basket of persimmons on your morning delivery to thank him for Silas’s care, and your sister, Silas’s mother, had insisted that you bring your nephew with you.

So there you were, the pair of you, walking towards the town center to find Jeon Wonwoo’s office of practice. 

Silas squeezes your hand to get your attention and you glance toward him to let him know you’re listening. 

“Auntie,” he starts, “do you think I should become a doctor when I grow up?” 

You almost giggle but hold it in lest he thinks you’re laughing at him. His mother would probably run the streets in excitement if she’d just heard her son’s query. 

“Now why do I have a say in what you should be when you grow up? You can be whatever you want, I always tell you that.” 

His lips form a small pout before he replies; “You’re my best friend, of course you have a say.”

Tears try to fill your eyes before you will them away with a shake of your head. “Well as your best friend I say that you should be whatever makes you happy.” You tell him and lean down to quickly press a kiss to his cheek. “Now let’s hurry to Mister Jeon’s office so he can get his persimmons and you can go to afternoon classes.” 

The doctor’s office isn’t too hard to find, mostly due to the fact that there’s only one of them, and it’s fairly new to town.

As you and your nephew make your way to the entrance you notice the wisteria plants that span the awning. ‘They'll look lovely when they bloom in spring,’ you muse. 

The bell above the door chimes as the two of you enter and the young man sitting behind what you assume to be the reception desk nods in greeting. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asks once you are closer to the desk. 

“Actually, I’m here with a delivery," you say, shyly holding up the basket, "and payment for Dr. Jeon's house visit." 

"Of course," he stands to receive the basket from you and sets it on the floor beside his chair. You watch him smooth down his dress shirt as he returns to his seat. The man then pulls open a drawer at his side and retrieves a medium sized journal, setting it in front of him and wetting his index finger to flip through its pages. 

"May I know the date the visit took place? As well as the patient's last name and address?"

You provide him with the information and watch as he skims through the cursive written on the journal's pages. 

As you converse with the man about payment you can't help but be thankful about how well behaved Silas is as you do. Although it might have been due to his fascination with the fish in a tank that sat in the waiting area, tucked next to some chairs and a table with a few newspapers, you're no less grateful. 

The two of you leave the office shortly after, your nephew a bit disappointed in not seeing Dr. Jeon, the man who has become the current subject of his admiration. 

"I'm sure we'll see him sometime soon," you say, trying to lift the boy's spirits, "it's a small town after all. Now, run along to class. Your mother will have my head if you're late again." 

Silas bids you farewell with a hug and you watch him jog down the road towards the schoolhouse, his bag swinging behind him. Unbeknownst to you that the doctor you'd been speaking about was watching it all from not too far away. 

Wonwoo is just shy of exhausted as he enters his practice. Removing his hat and tweed coat, holding onto them to hang them up in his office. 

Seungkwan stands from his chair to greet him but before he can utter a word Wonwoo lets out an almost comical sigh. 

"Please tell me I'm done with house visits for the day, I don't think I can handle another matriarch trying to convince me to marry their daughter." 

"You'll be happy to note that all the patients left today are mostly general check-ups." Seungkwan replies with a look of amusement. "Oh and before I forget the daughter of the persimmon farm came by with a basket for you and also took care of their bill for the visit two weeks ago," he continues. 

"I thought I caught a glimpse of her outside. Thank you, Seungkwan, I'll be in my office if you need me." 

Wonwoo closes his office door behind him as he enters, hanging up his hat and jacket on the coat rack to his immediate left. The basket of persimmons sits in the middle of his desk, covered with a cloth that had to have been hand-sewn. It's cream colored with a bouquet of embroidered flowers in the corner, beautiful work. It's a shame he can't enjoy the sweet fruit that lies beneath, work comes first. 

The bookstore's wood stairs creak as you ascend and in turn the bell hanging above the door chimes as you enter. Delight flashes across your face as you lock eyes with the girl who sits behind the counter. She returns your joy earnestly with a small smile and a wave of her hand. 

"You seem to be awfully chipper this afternoon." Jisun notes as you lean against the counter. 

"Maybe because I have it all to myself," You reply, with a smile. 

"I thought you had deliveries to do today?" She asks, confused. 

"Well, I did have one delivery today, to Dr. Jeon's office. My father said if I made that delivery and sent Silas off to classes I could take the afternoon off. I might have to do some this evening though."

At the mention of the doctor's name your friend gives you a coy look, which you ignore. 

Jisun and you fall into easy conversation between the calm buzz of the bookstore and her helping whatever customer needs it. You move to sit beside her behind the counter, to free up space. She tells you all about the planning being done by her mother for her upcoming wedding. Her engagement to the eldest son of the town's pottering family, Kim Doyoung, happened sometime this past winter. Jisun was over the moon when he had asked for her hand; you remember her crush on him from your school days. He was set to take over the family business in two to three years due to his father's declining health. 

"I'm thinking late summer or next autumn, because of the weather. My mother wants it to happen as early as possible, but Doyoung and I are okay with waiting a bit longer. His mother is fine with whatever I decide, she's truly wonderful." 

"I'm sure everything will work out. I just can't wait to atten– your response is cut off by the bell above the door chiming to announce a customer, your and Jisun's eyes snapping to the door. 

To your utter horror, Jeon Wonwoo enters the bookstore. 

You duck behind the counter quickly, praying he hasn't seen you yet and clutching your headscarf so it obscures your face better. 

Jisun gives you a confused look but you wordlessly plead for her to act normal, breathing a sigh of relief when she turns to greet the doctor. 

"Welcome, Dr. Jeon! I wasn't expecting you today."

You're glad Jisun is a better actress than she seems. 

Wonwoo returns her greeting and asks about the store. To which Jisun replies; "It's been fine, not too busy and not too slow." 

"How's Doyoung's father? I understand he's been taking his medicine diligently, but I haven't got around to seeing him yet as I was in the office all afternoon." 

She offers the doctor a smile, "He's doing much better, thankfully. We're all really grateful to you, Dr. Jeon." 

"Please, call me Wonwoo, I prefer to be 'Dr. Jeon' during work hours." 

Jisun smiles, "Of course."

Your squatting position soon becomes uncomfortable but you'd rather die than show yourself now, so you continue to listen to the two converse. 

"And the wedding? I know you've been planning." 

"Well, nothing is set in stone yet, but Doyoung and I are thinking perhaps late summer or even early autumn. Fret not, you and Seungkwan absolutely have a place on the guest list." 

"Looking forward to it then. Sorry to take up so much time with small talk, your father has a medical textbook saved for me. I told him I would be by this morning but I was a bit too busy." 

"I see, it's likely in his study then. I'll be just a minute!" She replies before turning around to the back of the bookstore, shooting you a wary glance before she disappears. 

You hear Wonwoo hum quietly to himself as he waits, and you silently pray for Jisun to make haste. Your legs are burning, not only from the weight of your body but also mostly due to the weight of your deceit. No matter, you cannot possibly let Jeon Wonwoo see you. 

"Here it is!" Jisun announces cheerfully as she returns, holding up the thick book with two hands and a sense of pride. 

"Thank you, Jisun. How much do I owe?" 

Jisun calculates the total along with a hefty discount sparing no room for argument, before wrapping the book up and handing it to the doctor. 

"You take care now Wonwoo! I'm sure I'll see you soon." Jisun says as she bids him farewell. 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the bell chiming, and the sound of the door closing. Grabbing onto the counter you hoist yourself back to standing much to the torment of your legs. 

"What was that about?" Jisun asks with a confused look as you wince and massage your knees. 

You open your mouth to respond but Jisun continues; "Don't you dare say 'nothing'." 

"I don't want him to see me." You admit, looking at your feet. 

"Why not?" She seems incredulous at your confession, "Is it because of your scar?" 

Your hand instinctively reaches to touch the long scar that runs through your left eye and down your cheek. The scar that "marred" you, the one that made people look twice, the only thing that prevents you from finding love. 

You sigh before giving Jisun a hollow smile, "I have to fetch Silas soon. I'll tell you more later." 

And with that you wave to Jisun and make your exit. 

The reminder of your scar brings awful memories back to the surface of your mind, and they are all you can think about as you walk to the schoolhouse.

Early Summer (Two Years Prior)

"Darling, is your sister ready? The Baes will be here any moment!" 

Your sister hurriedly pulls the curlers from your hair, and runs a brush through them. "Give us forty seconds Mama!" She looks you over in the mirror before giving you a reassuring smile, rushing to pick up the discarded curlers. 

"You look beautiful! Now go see Mama, quickly!" 

You meet your mother in the kitchen and she gives you a once over before kissing your cheek. "My lovely girl." 

Your mother instructs you on when to join them at the table after the Baes arrive and to bring the persimmons she's already cut with you. Figuring you still have time, you move to your sister's room where your nephew is playing. 

"Hi Silas." You say softly as you find a seat next to the boy. 

"Hi Auntie, what happened to your special meeting?" He asks with a tilt of his head. 

"The special people aren't here yet so I came to say hi one more time." You reply, pushing his hair out of his face, it was getting so long. 

You and your nephew chat for a bit more until the commotion from the front of the house draws away your attention; the Baes have arrived. 

The Baes were a modest family, a mom, a dad and two children, one boy and one girl. They owned the town jewelers, and were surprisingly well known. Bae Giwoong, the head of the family, was skilled with his hands, creating beautiful pieces that complimented anyone. Paired with a wife that had vast knowledge on jewels and precious stones, they had done quite well for themselves.

Hyunsik, the son, had come in earnest with his family to potentially ask for your hand. You were quite nervous, but seeing as your sister had married almost four years prior and had Silas, it was only natural that you were thinking about marriage as well. 

The meeting was dragging on. You had presented the persimmons just as your mother had instructed, before taking your seat at her side, across from Hyunsik who you offered a polite but reserved smile. He did not return it, only glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the conversation between your father and his. 

Soon, the chatter dwindled and the Baes announced their leave. Your father convinced Mr. Bae to have a cigar with him just outside the house before they departed. You busied yourself with clearing the table of the used forks and now empty cups of tea your mother had prepared.

After your tidying, you swiftly move through the house to the window at the front of it, intent on eavesdropping. 

Peering out you see the son and father chatting amongst themselves, your father probably in his study to fetch the cigar he promised Mr. Bae. Leaning closer to the ledge you're able to hear the two as they converse. 

"They're a good family, what do you think of her?" Mr. Bae asks. 

"They seem to be," Hyunsik agrees, "She's adequate, I suppose. If only she didn't have that unsightly scar," he continues. 

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words, as your hand unconsciously reaches to the scar. 

His father mulls over his words with a hum before replying; "You'd have to keep her under lock and key, the poor girl's mangled." 

The dread in your stomach hardens and you want nothing more than to stop hearing these harsh words, but you are frozen in place. 

Hyunsik nods in agreement, "It's really a shame. I'd be able to overlook it if it were anywhere else, I just can't imagine waking up to that face every morning."

You feel the tears before you register that you're crying, and the sensation is enough to knock you back to consciousness. You stand hurriedly and make your way to your room before anyone can see you in this pathetic state. 

 You pretend. In the day you are just yourself, getting errands done and living day to day. You pretend to agree, when your mother tells you that Bae Hyunsik would not be asking for your hand due to the fact that he believes you two wouldn't be compatible. At night you are inconsolable, crying into your pillow until your tears eventually put you to sleep. 

Silas senses a shift in your mood, but as a three year old he only does what he can. Seeking attention whenever you're sitting idle, laying his head on your lap while you stroke his hair. His little hands playing with your free one. 

Eventually, you learn to move on. As does Hyunsik when he marries the eldest daughter of Lee's dairy farm. 

His words, however, will stay with you forever. 

Drawn out of your memories by the clanging of the schoolhouse bell you quicken your pace, keeping eyes out for your nephew. He appears within a few moments, his own eyes searching for you. You wave to him when he finally finds you. 

"How were classes?" You ask as the boy bounds up to you, reaching to smooth his unruly hair. 

"Good!” He chirps, before launching into detail about his afternoon. Keeping the two of you entertained as you follow the road home. 

The days that follow glide by until eventually they all bleed into a week, a week since you’ve seen the young doctor. Your deliveries go as well as can be expected, though they have been slowing down, and your father is busy preparing the year’s saplings. Silas has gone off to visit his paternal grandparents who live a few towns away, your sister going along despite her relationship of apathy with her in-laws. She did say something about Henry’s younger brother finishing his woodworking apprenticeship so she was expected to be present. 

You find yourself bored without your small friend but find time to chat with Jisun every now and again. Miraculously you haven’t run into Wonwoo at all, though you’ve caught glimpses from afar and he has not gotten any less handsome. 

At dusk your mother finds you with a basket in her hands. 

"Did I forget a delivery?" You question eyes falling to the vermillion fruit. 

"No dear, your father is out with the trees still and it slipped my mind that I had promised Mrs. Lee these. You know her youngest just got engaged," She explains. 

"Ah right I had forgotten. I'll take care of it," you reply, taking the basket from your mother's hands and pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. 

The walk to the Lee home is not long, but it is closer to the town than to your own home. You greet the few townspeople you come across on the way, offering them small smiles and polite nods. 

The greetings have you in a good mood so you have a little more pep in your step as you bound up the Lee family's porch, curling your fingers around the knocker when you make it to the door. 

"Coming!" You hear a girlish voice say, followed by the sounds of the door unlocking. 

With a slight tug of the door inwards you come face to face with Lee Daeun, the eldest Lee sister, one hand laid on the wood while the other cradles her very pregnant stomach. The polite smile on her face slips when her eyes flash with recognition. 

"I had assumed your mother would be dropping by, not…..you." 

You offer a shrug, "Mother sent me instead, sorry to disappoint." You reply jokingly, trying to ease the tension. 

Daeun doesn't respond right away, choosing to study you for a few moments. The silence becomes awkward quickly so you try your best to remedy it. 

"Congratulations to your sister, what a joyous occasion for her. And to yourself, I didn't know you were with child." You say with a warm smile, probably the most genuine thing the two of you had exchanged thus far. 

You hold out the basket to her, which she takes sliding it up her arm so it rests in the crook of her elbow.

"Yes, well, our family is quite satisfied with her fiancé. He's the son of an artisan, and they live a few towns eastward." Both her hands now rest on her stomach, "As for this one, it's only been a few months. Hyunsik is over the moon, and Momma insists on keeping me inside for the time being, so I don't get out much." Daeun's eyes seize you once more before she continues; "And yourself? I know your family has been searching for suitors, any success?" 

She may as well have doused you in cold water with the way her tone becomes icy. 

"Unfortunately not. I'm not too worried though, I know finding a suitable bachelor can take some time and I'm nothing if not patient." 

A scoff escapes her at your reply. "Worried? I feel you should be rather embarrassed. My youngest sister, a girl who we both watched play with mud when we were all children, is now engaged. Meanwhile you continue to age with no partner to call yours, as well as toting around your poor nephew pretending he's your own. I think it's time you face reality, nobody wants a scarred wife no matter how pretty she is." 

You are stunned into silence, fists clenched and nails biting into the skin of your palms. Every cell in your body fighting the urge to cry at the venom Daeun had spat at you for seemingly no reason at all. 

"Give your parents our family's thanks." Is the last thing she says before shutting the door in your face. 

You stare at the door for a few moments, tears starting to blur your vision, before you turn and hurry away from the Lee's home. 

Hot tears are blurring your vision as you head in the direction opposite your house. You want to find somewhere quiet to cry your eyes out before heading back to your residence and pretending everything is fine and dandy. 

Reaching closer to town, you stumble across the fountain just behind the main street, tucked between a few trees. A veranda shielding it from the setting sun with vines of wisteria weaved through its wood. The flowers are nowhere in sight as their blooming season is still a ways off. You, however, are too busy crying to care much about wisteria.

Shakily you manage to sit at the fountain's edge before your body is wracked with your sobs. Fingers fumble to pull the knot of your scarf resting against your chin loose, and once the fabric comes free you bury your face in it, your tears never once stopping. 

You don't know how long you sit there crying, removing your face from your tear stained head scarf every so often to breathe. 

A soft voice is the thing that finally brings you back to reality, and there before you with worry etched into his wrinkled brow is Jeon Wonwoo. 

Your mind blanks at the sight of him, and it feels as if someone has stuffed cotton in your ears as Wonwoo's lips move but you cannot hear a word he utters. His concerned frown deepens as he gets no response from you, leaning closer. It's as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you feel yourself falling backwards as if someone had grabbed onto the back of your dress and yanked. 

Wonwoo cries in surprise as he watches you fall towards the water, arms reaching out to grab you. The sound kicks your brain into gear, it's too late to stop your descent but you throw your hands back to catch yourself. A loud splash echoes through the small area before you are engulfed in the sensation of cold water drenching your skin and clothes. Wonwoo as he lunged to grab you had also met with the fountain water, his hands and forearms submerged, and his body leaning over top of yours. 

Silence buzzes between the two of you as the only thing you can do is stare at each other. It's only then do you truly realize the situation that you've found yourself in. Wonwoo's face is mere inches from your own and the only thing you can think is how much more handsome he looks up close. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and the flecks of honey that swim in the brown of his irises. 

You notice him studying your own face, and as his eyes drift over to the left you remember why you were crying in the first place. Your hand snaps up to cover your scar and this is what seems to break the trance between you and the doctor. Wonwoo can feel the blood rushing to his ears as he scrambles back to his feet, bowing his head and offering apology after apology.

 When you don't respond his eyes meet yours, and he notices you have not made any attempt to remove yourself from the fountain. Your green dress is bunched up over your knees, the fabric now dark due to the water, and your patterned head scarf still gripped in hand. 

Wonwoo's face still feels like it has been set ablaze but he offers you both of his hands, "May I?" 

You nod shakily before he leans over and your hands reach up to grasp his own. He pulls you firmly, but not yanking, and even lets one of your hands go to loop an arm around your waist for a more secure hold. 

You notice how firm his body feels against yours and how much taller he is than you'd thought now that you're practically pressed together. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

Wonwoo slowly removes his arm from your waist and his hand from yours, taking half a step back to give you some (much needed) space. 

"Are you alright? I feel awful about startling you, but I heard the crying and wanted to know if you were okay." 

"I'm fine," you reply, voice small, "my apologies for getting you wet." 

The doctor's lips twitch and you feel perhaps he wants to laugh at you. You wouldn't fault him, you are soaked to the bone, rivulets of water running down your legs beneath your dress. 

"Water under the bridge." 

You almost giggle at that, but duck your head down and compose yourself quickly. 

Wonwoo continues; "Would you mind walking with me to my practice? I live right above it, and would feel better if I could get you into something dry before escorting you home. I know you live a bit out of town." 

Before you can respond Wonwoo must have realized how he sounded. 

"I know because you left me the persimmons and I treated the young boy, though I didn't see you there. I have seen you around town with him though, just briefly of course, completely coincidentally. I don't go out of my way to catch a glimpse of you here and there. I promise, I'm not a strange person." Wonwoo rambles in an attempt to clear the air, though you're not sure it needed clearing in the first place. 

The space above Wonwoo’s office is quaint, what it lacks in size it makes up for in homey-ness. Books piled neatly from where they spill out of the bookshelf, a warm armchair nestled right beside it. A dining table with one chair, both a dark cherrywood, sits against the wall adjacent to the small kitchenette. There’s a small wood-burning stove that looks well loved. Everything in the space feels very Wonwoo to you. 

Speaking of, you can hear him rustling through the drawers in the other room. He ushered you in despite your protests, not wanting to drip all over his home. Once inside he disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a towel clutched in his hand, and then layed it across the floor in front of you. “Since you feel so strongly about not getting my floor wet,” he’d said, before disappearing once more. 

You fiddle with your fingers, still drenched to the bone, as your clothes drip drip drip onto the towel. 

Finally, Wonwoo exits the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a bundle of clothes tucked safely in his other arm. 

“I’m sure they won’t fit like a glove, but you’re likely grateful for dry clothes either way.” His tone is a bit teasing, and you can only nod in response with your ears feeling hot. 

“The bathroom is just opposite of my room,” He says, passing over the clothes to your hands, “take your time. It’s just about dark so I’ll be sure to walk you home. You can call your parents, or husband, when you’re dressed. I have a phone.” He continues. 

The ‘husband’ comment makes you bristle but you decide to clear the air with Wonwoo at a later time, desperately wanting to get out of this wet dress.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, and turn to scurry into the safety of the bathroom. 

You get dressed quickly, not bothering with your undergarments. You’d rather have wet undergarments than be bare underneath clothes that don’t even belong to you, the thought flushes your whole body with heat. 

Wonwoo directs you to the phone, it rests on a side table next to the armchair,  and you dial your house phone with urgency, despite the slowness of the crank dial. The line rings for a few moments, and as you hear the other line click “Mother?” tumbles from your lips. 

Your mother says your name with surprise, “Darling where are you? Are you still at the Lees’?” 

“No, something happened on the way home. But I’m with Doctor Jeon, you know Doctor Jeon? He treated Silas when he had that god-awful fever. Well, he helped me out, so I’m fine. He insisted I call you before he accompanied me home, so I was just letting you know Momma.” 

You listen to your mother talk for a bit more before you bid her goodbye, her voice ringing out a “Be safe on your way home!” before you set the receiver down. 

“Thank you for letting me use your phone, and for the clothes,” you say to Wonwoo, who sits across the room from you in that dining table chair. 

“Of course,” he replies, “now let's get you home.” 

The small talk as the two of you walk the path to your family home is pleasant enough. You find that Wonwoo has somewhat of an eclectic sense of humor, and he’s quite witty despite the seriousness of his profession. In no time your home is visible, and you feel a tinge of disappointment at its sight. 

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” Wonwoo sighs as the two of you stand in front of the gate of your home. 

“I suppose,” you echo.

A long pause ebbs between you both as you gaze at each other.

Suddenly you feel a jolt go through you as you have a realization. You’d forgotten your dress on the floor of his bathroom. 

“My dress,” you say bashfully, “I left it in your bathroom.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll get it washed for you. You can come by the office in the next few days, I’ll have it nice and clean.” He assures you with a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

Before you can turn to leave Wonwoo continues; “I haven’t seen your boy around, Silas was it? How’s he fairing these days?” 

You offer the doctor a tight lipped smile, “His father took him to visit family a few towns over.” You think you have to clear this misunderstanding up before it's too late. 

“Also, he’s not mine. Silas, I mean, he’s my sister’s son. I’m not married, I’ve never been.” 

“I see,” Wonwoo replies, and you feel you may have offended him somehow at his tone but he continues; “That’s good then, I felt I may have been acting inappropriately towards you. Thinking you were married and all.” 

“I didn’t think you were acting inappropriately at all.” 

“That brings me relief. Then you won’t think me telling you how lovely I think you look would be inappropriate either? Considering you’re unmarried.” 

You feel your ears are deceiving you, because surely Jeon Wonwoo didn’t just say he thinks you look lovely. But as you gaze at his face, a handsome smirk paints his lips, perhaps your ears work just fine. 

It seems your mother has never had a more perfect sense of timing as she swings the front door open shouting your name. 

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo to call back to her; “I’m here! No need to shout.” 

You hear her footsteps as she makes her way to the gate, shooting Wonwoo an apologetic glance. He offers a soft smile in response. 

It isn’t long before you hear the rattling of the gate lock and your mother’s voice again “Honey, what are you doing loitering around outside…“ Her words trail off as she takes in Wonwoo standing across from you. Her gaze flits between the two of you, pausing at your state of dress; a linen shirt and black trousers that were a few sizes too big. Despite her obvious shock your mother paints on a lovely smile and bows her head in greeting to the doctor. 

“Oh my, Doctor Jeon, I had forgotten you’d be accompanying her home! Thank you for helping my daughter out, you’re quite the gentleman.” 

You shoot your mother an incredulous look, not wanting her to embarrass you further than you yourself already have. She ignores you, of course. 

Wonwoo bows his head with a smile, “Not at all. It was my pleasure, your daughter has quite the interesting personality.” 

“Doesn’t she? We have no idea where she gets it from, there’s no one like her in the family.” 

You assume your mother is trying to rope Wonwoo into having something to eat by the glint in her eye so you jump in. 

“I’m sure Wonwoo would like to head home, Momma. He has a bit of a walk back into town.” 

“Do you?” She turns to him, “We’d hate to keep you.” 

“I have some time,” Wonwoo assures her, “there’s no one waiting for me at home.” 

You can’t help but feel betrayed by Wonwoo’s choice to indulge your mother. 

“Really? Have you eaten? Let me pack some food for you to take!” 

And before any of you can say anything, your mother has Wonwoo’s wrist in her grip gently leading him through the front gate and to your house. 

You run a hand down your face before following. 

Your mother leads Wonwoo through the house, through the living room, to have him sit on the ledge just outside the living room doors that open up to the garden. 

“Now you wait right here,” your mother tells him, “I’ll have my daughter fetch you a drink while I pack up something for you!” 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. 

She eyes you meaningfully before grabbing your arm to drag you to the kitchen. 

“There’s some cold yuzu tea in the fridge, take him a glass please.” She sets a medium sized cup onto a saucer, and you recognize it as a part of the china set your family typically uses for important guests. It’s white with some foliage painted on the side. 

You follow your mother’s command as she busies herself with packing side dishes, reaching past her into the fridge where the pot of yuzu tea sits. 

After pouring a cup you garnish it with a rosemary sprig you pluck from the plant sitting on the kitchen’s windowsill. You're careful not to spill as you make your way to where Wonwoo waits, your pace slow. 

He gives you a kind smile as you set the cup and saucer in front of him, thanking you in a soft voice. 

“Your mother made this?” He asks, after having a sip. The tea is quite refreshing, and it's probably one of the best yuzu teas he’s ever had. 

You shake your head. “I made the pot this time, usually whoever finds it running low makes it, between me and her of course. My older sister can’t brew tea to save her life, she takes after father.” 

“Well, it’s delicious. I suppose you’re quite the master when it comes to brewing tea.” 

You shake your head again, bashfully. You feel small under Wonwoo's fond gaze, not sure what is the appropriate way to act when he's showing you such kindness. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, with Wonwoo sipping at his tea and you trying to discreetly study his face. You know you've thought this before but he really is quite handsome. 

"The garden is beautiful, I don't think I've seen one built in the middle of a home like this before." 

"My great-grandfather built this house," you reply, moving so your body is parallel with Wonwoo's, both of you facing the open space. "He traveled a bit with my great-grandmother and when they built this house they took inspiration from some of the homes they stayed in on their travels." 

"I see." He replies, setting his now empty cup down, his knuckles brushing the side of your hand as he does so. 

You pull your hand away, as if burned, and heat flushes your body. 

Wonwoo doesn't comment on this thankfully but you think you see the edge of his lips twitch. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Your mother's voice rings out. Walking to where you and Wonwoo sit with the containers of food wrapped up in an orange cloth. She sets it between you and Wonwoo as she kneels.

"I don't know what you like, so I added a bit of everything! I snuck in a couple of persimmons as well, we have more than enough." 

"Thank you kindly," Wonwoo says sweetly, giving your mother a smile. 

"It's no trouble dear! And don't worry about the containers, I'll have this one fetch them from you whenever." She says, motioning to you. 

"Well, thank you again. I should be getting on my way now, I've overstayed my welcome it seems." 

"Oh not at all!" Your mother pats his arm, "We're always happy to have you Doctor Jeon. My daughter will see you out, don't be a stranger now!" 

Wonwoo gathers the cloth in his fist, and the cup and saucer in his free hand. You take the china, passing it to your mother before leading Wonwoo back towards the entrance of your home. 

Soon you are in the exact same setting you were when you had arrived; you and Wonwoo standing across from each other at the gate. 

"My apologies for my mother, she's the type to flit around even if you tell her to sit still." 

"Not at all. She's quite the character, but I can tell she's also immensely kind. I now know where you get it from." The smile on Wonwoo's lips is teasing and you think about how nice it is to have someone compliment you. 

After a few more short moments of small talk you urge the doctor to be on his way. The sun had already sunk low behind the horizon and the path back to town settled in darkness. You hurry to grab him a lantern, just to help him light his way home, as the roads would absolutely be dark until about halfway into town. 

Wonwoo promises to make it home safely, and he watches you enter your house before turning and making his way to his own. 

Later that night you lay awake, palm pressed to your racing heart, replaying the moment Wonwoo called you lovely over and over again in your mind.

The next few days are spent with you staying busy, too busy even to go see Wonwoo for your dress. Pruning the persimmon trees and overall maintenance of the farm are the allotted tasks that fall to you. The workload is a bit heavy due to your sister and her family’s absence. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in Wonwoo’s linen shirt, his pants have been washed and folded, but perhaps selfishly, you can't bring yourself to part from his shirt. It smells like him, petrichor with a light musk and the hint of something floral. It's intoxicating and the scent lulls you to sleep better than any tea you’ve ever had. 

Sadly, you aren’t meant to hold on to the young doctor’s clothes forever. You have your mother wash the shirt, and find a bag to put Wonwoo’s clean clothes in so they can be returned to him. You intend to slip out quickly, but when your mother catches wind of your plans she rushes off to grab a few persimmons to send with you. 

“Please, he’ll be sick of persimmons at this rate,” you whine. 

She ignores your concern, slipping the wrapped fruits into your hand. “Nonsense! Nobody can be sick of persimmons,” she argues. 

Soon, you are on your way to the doctor’s office. Unfortunately, with the persimmons in tow. The walk to town is pleasant enough, and you get a sense of tranquility with nobody else on the path except for yourself and the occasional woodland creature that makes an appearance. 

You made a point to doll yourself up just a bit, wanting to leave Wonwoo with a better impression of yourself than last time. You don’t have high hopes, but perhaps just a hope that Wonwoo holds any feelings other than cordiality towards you. Your dress today is a dusty pink, and you’d found your sister’s rouge and applied a smidge to your cheeks and lips. 

The air is somewhat brisk, as it usually is in early fall, but the chill still makes you shiver slightly. Red and yellow tipped leaves sway in the crisp wind, it is undoubtedly autumn. Soon enough you are at the entrance of town, face burning with embarrassment as you catch a glance of the fountain, remembering the events that transpired there. 

Your pace quickens. 

As you come upon Wonwoo’s practice, you are surprised to see him waiting outside. Giving you a small smile and a wave when he notices you. 

“Good Morning,” he greets you with a honeyed voice.

“Morning,” is your soft reply, “do you always mill about outside this early?” 

This makes the doctor chuckle. “No, not usually. I saw you coming up the path from my window, so I figured it was only right that I came to greet you.” 

“Oh,” you try to fight the heat blooming on your cheeks, “I have your clothes, freshly laundered. Mother thought it pertinent to slip in a few persimmons even though I told her you’re probably sick of them by now.” 

The smile has not left his lips yet, and he reaches out to take the bag from your hand, fingers brushing against your own. “I could never be sick of persimmons,” he replies, “after all, everytime I have one I think of you.” 

The heat rushes back tenfold, you are beyond flustered and you think Wonwoo notices because of the way his lips quirk up. You feel your brain has been fried at just those few words and you struggle to form a reply.  Thankfully, Wonwoo takes pity on you, despite being the cause of your non-functioning state. 

“Your dress is upstairs,” he tells you, “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled so I hung it up as best I could. If you’d like, we could go upstairs and retrieve it or I can always bring it down to you.” 

“We can go upstairs,” your voice small as you reply, your heart fluttering shamelessly in your chest at the thought of being in Wonwoo’s cozy home once more.

The fluttering of your heart does not stop even as the two of you climb the steps.

You get a lovely sense of warmth when the two of you enter, and you look at the wood stove still kindling. Wonwoo guides you to sit in his armchair, disappearing to the area his kitchenette is. You watch him grab a resting teapot and pour whatever resides within it into a mug. The mug is then wordless placed in your hands, and you murmur a soft “thank you”. 

“Apple blackberry tea,” he explains, “I thought you might need some warming up from the chill.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you reply softly, “thank you.”

A small smile twitches at Wonwoo’s lips as he watches you cradle the mug and bring it to your lips to taste the tea. “Your dress is in the other room, give me a moment.”

You nod, taking another slow sip of the delicious tea. Both fruits pair surprisingly well, and it seems to be the perfect blend for a crisp autumn day. 

Wonwoo returns, your dress folded meticulously and resting in his hands. Despite how well worn it is it looks almost brand new, testament to his care of it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble!” You stand to take the dress from Wonwoo’s hand, fondness swimming in your chest.

The man just shakes his head, “It was no trouble. It's something that belongs to you so I wanted to make sure it returned to you in an adequate condition.” 

You press the garment to your chest, your eyes meeting his. You try to think of what to say to convey your gratitude but nothing seems good enough. 

It's almost as if Wonwoo turns bashful under your gaze as he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t intend to keep you longer, I would accompany you back to your home but unfortunately I have a few patients to see this morning.”

You snap back to reality at this, “Oh! Don’t apologize please, you’ve done more than enough for me, Wonwoo. I can make my way home no problem. Thank you again, for everything.” You give him a nod, walking past him to the door. However, before you can turn the knob you feel a hand at the crook of your arm, pulling you gently to a halt. 

Glancing behind yourself, you see that Wonwoo has stopped you. An emotion you can’t quite place swims within his eyes, and it just adds to your confusion. 

“Wonwoo..?” You say slowly, when neither of you has spoken for a stretch of moments. 

He uses his delicate grip on you to turn your body so you two face each other once more, and the hand on your arm raises slowly to hold your cheek. Suddenly, his thumb is rubbing against your scar gently. He whispers your name and you feel as if you’ve been caught in a trance, you can’t speak, move, or think. All you can do is breathe and feel Wonwoo’s touch. 

His eyes trace the lines of your face, before they find yours. “From this moment onwards, I intend to court you. If you’ll have me.”

His words stun you, a moment of silence passing between the two of you before it is broken by your mouth, moving faster than your mind can. “Yes, I’ll have you. Of course I will,” You say breathily. 

A smile tugs on Wonwoo’s lips and then he is leaning down to brush his lips over your scar, his hand falling from your cheek and finding your own. 

⊱ notes: as always thank you for reading! it really was a pleasure to write this doctor wonu is very dear to me <3333

[2baabbies]

🖤 You Should Think About the Consequence (Reader x Bangchan x Felix x Hyunjin; part 1)

Crossposted under 2Babbies on Ao3 <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (WIP)

Pairings: established relationship bangchan x reader, established hyunlix, reader x bangchan x felix x hyunjin, established minsung, background hyunbin mentioned, various hookups not detailed

Words: 7900

Summary: You have a crush on Felix and Hyunjin. Luckily, your boyfriend Chan does too. As much as you love pining together, it would be nice to let your friends know how you feel. (Inspired by Gorgeous by Taylor Swift)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

CWs: alcohol/reader is drunk at the beginning but there is no smut at this part, platonic undressing, groping without consent/reader likes it, slight exhibitionism, consensual voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, teasing, slight rough sex/marking, making love <3 mutual masturbation for hyunlix + spoilers they don’t fuck reader or chan (yet ;)))

~~~

“Naur.”

“Seriously, that’s enough.”

The giggles bubble up from your chest as Felix attempts to stare you down. His eyebrows pinch together and his eyes narrow, but despite his best efforts you see the smirk sneaking across his face seconds before he forces a pout.

“Naur.”

He grins.

“Stop. I do not sound like that.”

“Yes you do,” Hyunjin argues, which causes another round of laughter to burst out of you as Felix turns to him in astonishment.

“Wow, taking her side?”

“Her impression is impeccable, I almost can’t tell the difference.”

You squeal in delight and stumble into Hyunjin as you are racked with another round of laughter. He catches you seamlessly and drapes an arm around your waist as you let him take your weight. Felix tsks and shakes his head, then begins walking away as he unlocks his phone.

“I need to get you two home, I’m calling Chan.”

“Why?” You whine.

“Because you’re not making any sense, you’ve clearly had too much to drink.”

“Ah,” Hyunjin scoffs, “I had one drink.”

“Then you’re a lightweight, because you’re only being about as reasonable as the drunk girl.”

You blow a raspberry and rest your head on Hyunjin’s chest as he pats your hair.

“She’s a very intelligent drunk girl.”

“Mmthankyou.”

Felix shakes his head and steps away to make the call. You sway in Hyunjin’s arms for a moment, before craning your neck back to look up at him. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles back at you. The distant chatter and muted music from the party happening upstairs swims in and out of your awareness. The lobby of the convention center, rented out for the company party, is empty aside from your group. Not even a desk attendant is present at this hour, but in your current state you are unable to remember why you would find your current situation embarrassing for any reason. You are pleasantly sloshed and only a little hot from the alcohol, and Hyunjin is rocking you close to him as he supports your unsteady legs. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

You giggle for the hundredth time that night and shake your head.

“Mno…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make Felix carry you out to the car.”

He winks and your heart stutters. How could Hyunjin be so charming? The golden glow from the lobby chandelier frames his head like a halo as he stares down at you with his soft, perfect, smile. Felix returns but you find yourself unable to look away from Hyunjin’s warm eyes.

“Chan didn’t answer, but Changbin is on his way to take us home.”

“He’s sober?” Hyunjin assures.

“Yeah, he hasn’t had anything to drink, he said.”

“I wonder where Chan is?”

You snort and let your head fall back as Hyunjin picks you up bridal style. He turns so you can see Felix, albeit upside-down.

“Why are you laughing now, Giggles?” The Aussie asks.

“I dunno why you even bother wondering… where Chan is- I mean at this point, I don’t.”

Felix seems surprised, from what you can register while looking up at him from your current angle, and helps Hyunjin put you in a standing position once again.The room spins in a circle before you realize Felix is turning you to face him. He cradles you in his arms and tilts his head to meet your eyes, much like Hyunjin did.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin inquires behind you.

“What?”

“What do you mean by that, what do you think Chan’s doing?”

“What? I don’t know what. Working?”

Felix abandons keeping you on your feet and scoops you up, earning him an exclamation of joy. You drop your head on his shoulder and yawn loudly.

“When did you get so strong, Lix?”

He chuckles.

“I don’t know.”

“S’not fair… I hate it, you’re too cute to be carrying me around… Both of you are too cute…”

“Ah… Is that right?”

“Roight?”

Felix sighs.

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Hyunjin comes closer to study your drooping eyes and lets out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Are you tired, baby? Want us to tuck you in for bed now?”

“Mhhmhm… Like a baby…”

“Okay, we will. With a goodnight kiss and everything.”

You giggle and nod in agreement as Hyunjin pats your head.

“Oi, Changbin,” Felix greets.

Your head is too heavy to lift and you fail to decipher the hushed words spoken between Hyunjin and Changbin. You only become aware of Felix’s silence when his chest rumbles with his soft response and he passes you over to Changbin’s arms. You say nothing and allow yourself to doze off in favor of sleeping on the car ride home.

When you come to again Felix is the one jostling you awake. You blink around in confusion at the dim room then look at him.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, you gotta get changed.”

“Where am I?”

“Channie’s room.”

The bed sinks next to you as Hyunjin takes a seat. You grasp at Felix’s bare shoulders, shirt abandoned, bewildered that such elegant arms carried you home. No, Changbin carried you home, you think. 

“Where’s Chan?”

“Not home yet, but he’ll be home soon,” Hyunjin answers.

“Can you put your pajamas on? You shouldn’t sleep in this dress,” Felix asks.

Your hands fall to the hem of your party dress then quickly yank it over your head. Felix catches the garment as you toss it aside as Hyunjin helps lead your torso into one of Chan’s long sleeves. You fall back as they work together to dress you in a pair of his sweats, then move you to the middle of the bed to tuck you in. 

You groan softly and throw your arm over your eyes. Hyunjin moves it carefully and touches your forehead.

“Feel sick?”

“Mhm.”

“Was that a yes?”

“I’ll get her some water,” Felix whispers.

“Sit up again, hon.”

Hyunjin leads your arms around his shoulders then lifts you up by your back. He holds you there as you both wait for Felix to return. You nestle your chin in the crook of his shoulder and let his gentle breaths lull you to sleep. You drift back to consciousness as they coax you to take a few sips of water, the cold glass being a pleasant shock when it touches your lips. Hyunjin lowers you slowly and wipes a drop from your chin.

“Do you need anything else?” Felix asks.

“Kiss.”

“What?”

You slap your hand over your forehead then point there insistently.

“Oh.”

Hyunjin laughs and leans up to peck your clammy brow. Felix smiles against your forehead when he offers one as well.

“Anything else?” The Aussie whispers.

Your hand finds his cheek and holds it for a moment before you let it fall.

“Stay here?”

They murmur amongst themselves softly.

“I’ll stay,” Felix offers, “Until Chan gets home.”

You nod but your eyes have already long fallen shut for the night. The bed shifts and you feel Felix pull you into his figure as he curls up beside you. Hyunjin tucks the blanket in again and gives you another peck on the cheek before he leaves.

“Goodnight babies, sleep well.”

“G’nite, Jin,” Felix mumbles into your hair.

“Mhm, night…”

When you come to the next morning Felix is gone and Chan is sitting beside you, working with his laptop. He sits atop the blanket, only wearing a pair of sweats.

“Ngh.”

“Morning babe,” He chirps softly, “How’d you sleep?”

“Mhm… Too hot…”

Chan’s hand slides up from where it rests on your thigh and slips under the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off then.”

His eyes never leave the screen but his fingers tenderly caress your stomach as you struggle to pull his shirt off. They continue dancing there absentmindedly as he clicks through files and types with his other hand. You huff and toss the shirt over his head, successfully covering his face and causing him to pause.

“Something up, babe?”

He sets his laptop aside and flings the shirt away before rolling over to lay beside you. He props himself up on his elbow and leans over you as his hand moves to cup your waist.

“When did you get home?”

You trail a path with your pointer finger from Chan’s chest up to his neck, then trace the muscles there slowly. He smiles and tilts his head to rest his cheek in your palm as you cup his face.

“Not long after you. You and Lix were so cute.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I was a little jealous honestly. I carried Lix back to his room.”

“Boo.”

“Where was I supposed to sleep?”

“There’s room for three in your bed.”

He cocks his eyebrow and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you make it to the party last night?”

He purses his lips.

“Not quite.”

“So, no?”

“I may have passed out in the studio. Changbin came and got me. And yelled at me.”

You sigh.

“Channie.”

“Hey, be a little thankful. You were doted on by two gorgeous angels thanks to my negligence.”

“I don’t think that’s the flex you think it is.”

He laughs.

“Hey, you know what’s really cute?”

“Hm?”

“Hyunjin got so flustered when I found out he was planning to spend the night in Bin’s room last night. Like we don’t already know they’re hooking up.”

You smirk as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Ah, now I’m jealous. I bet he was so cute.”

“Freakin’ adorable even.”

“Damn.”

“You know… They only try to hide it from us because they think we’re not into that sort of thing…”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I don’t think I could face the guys again if they knew how I felt about them.”

“God, I know what you mean,” He sighs as he flops onto his back beside you.

Your hands intertwine as you stare at the ceiling. He brings yours to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“You and Lix were so lovely… You really fit together so perfectly…”

“Stop fantasizing about me with other men.”

He giggles and pecks your fingers and the back of your hand.

“And Hyunjin… he has a couple hickies on the back of his neck. I wonder if he even knows about them,” Chan ponders.

“He’s a cutie…”

“You know, Hyunjin likes girls too.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me.”

“Everyone likes you. And Felix… well, he likes everyone.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Channie.”

He turns his head to face you and you follow suit.

“I’m just saying… The option is there if you want it…”

“I do… It’ll just be a big change… I like how it is now, I don’t want to ruin it for us.”

“I know, but you won’t, baby. You’re perfect.”

“Gross.”

He scoffs.

“Just let me know when you’re ready. There’s no rush, and I want to do what makes you happy.

“And what if I want my workaholic boyfriend?”

Chan grins.

“You’ll always have me.”

“And you’ll always have me.”

He rolls over again to cage your body under his and brushes his nose against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You murmur as you lace your arms around his neck, “Even though you didn’t even give me a good morning kiss.”

He chuckles.

“Good morning,” You share a kiss, “I love you,” Another kiss, “I missed you.”

“G’morning,” You kiss again, “I love you,” You share one more lingering smooch, “You’re a dick.”

“Agh, because I missed the party?”

“Yes.”

“Oops.”

“You don’t sound apologetic.”

“Sorry,” He breathes before capturing your lips in his again.

You giggle as you separate.

“You lead the way. When you think the time is right… we’ll let them know.”

“Deal.”

You and Chan spend most of the day cuddling together, unbothered. It is not until much later that Jisung enters the room and interrupts your peace.

“Hey,” Jisung says sternly, “Stop that.”

Chan lays between your legs with his head resting on your chest. Your arms are draped over his shoulders as he works on his laptop, which rests in his lap. You have both fully dressed yourselves since the morning. You see his quizzical expression in the reflection of the screen before he answers Jisung.

“Stop… laying with my girlfriend?”

“Working. You said you would take a break today, what the Hell?”

“Oh, that’s easy: I lied.”

Jisung rolls his eyes and addresses you.

“You’re supposed to be helping us, stop enabling him.”

You kiss the top of Chan’s head and smirk as you catch his relaxed smile.

“No. He needs to make more money so I can be a trophy wife.”

Chan howls in laughter as Jisung stares in awe.

“You gold digger! Get away from him, he’s not your sugar daddy!”

You stick your tongue out as you pat Chan’s chest.

“You’re doing such a good job, daddy.”

“Thanks, babe,” Chan sighs.

“Ugh, no! Take a break! Now!”

Jisung slams the laptop shut and takes it away, leaving Chan grasping at empty air.

“Ah…”

“We’re watching a movie, get out there before I actually get angry.”

Chan makes a defeated noise and drags himself out of your embrace. You wink at Jisung.

“Thank you, Hannie.”

He blushes and shakes his head. You giggle and follow Chan to the living room, where the members are getting settled for the movie. Minho is on the couch, browsing through the options. Felix and Hyunjin are curled up together in an armchair, both scrolling through their phones. You grab one of the throw pillows and whip it at Changbin’s back, interrupting his conversation with Jeongin where they stand behind the couch.

“Hey, lovebirds, what were you doing in there?” Seungmin teases from another armchair.

“Nothing,” Chan protests, “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Were you having sex?” Jeongin asks.

“Yes,” You deadpan.

Chan turns to you sharply.

“No!”

“Crazy kids,” Seungmin comments.

“We weren’t having sex,” Chan scoffs, “Stop lying.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” You coo.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Would you prefer it if I called it making love?”

Chan scowls and gives up on arguing with you. Changbin swings the pillow back at you, which you catch with ease.

“She’s only with Chan for his money,” Jisung pipes up behind you, “She told me.”

“Yeah, I want to be a trophy wife.”

You hit Changbin with the pillow again and he cocks his head.

“I don’t think Chan’s old enough to have a trophy wife.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude.”

“Also, you could choose richer.”

“Well, how much do you make?”

Changbin smirks as Chan answers, “Not as much as me.”

Changbin finally takes the pillow and smacks you lightly with it.

“Can you guys stop flirting so we can pick something to watch?” Minho complains.

Changbin bites his lip and looks at Chan.

“Channie… Were you flirting with me?”

“Yeah,” Chan replies shyly.

You take the pillow, which Changbin still clings to with one hand, and hold it over your head as you grin at Minho. He holds up a finger in warning.

“I will destroy you.”

“In a pillow fight, right?” Jisung mumbles.

“What?” You question.

“Nothing…”

Jisung avoids your judging glare.

“You’ve lost your pillow privileges,” Changbin states as he finally pulls it away.

“C’mon…”

“So, what are we watching?” Chan redirects.

“Not horror,” Felix finally speaks up, his voice muffled where his face is pressed into Hyunjin’s chest.

Hyunjin hums in agreement.

“Let’s do drama,” Jeongin suggests.

“No,” Minho protests, “I’m not in the mood.”

Jisung gasps softly.

“My baby? Not in the mood for drama?”

“My life’s a drama thanks to you.”

Jisung whines and pouts as he drops next to Minho on the couch. The older sighs and throws an arm around him as he continues scrolling, and the younger quickly tucks himself into his side. The boys gently debate over what to watch and you resign beside Chan where he leans against the wall. He pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your shoulder as you observe the others. 

You still as your eyes catch Hyunjin staring at you from his spot with Felix. Felix seems unaware, focused on his phone as Hyunjin’s eyes remain locked on yours. You offer a small smile but Hyunjin has no reaction. You feel Chan's nose at the base of your neck and finally Hyunjin looks away. You shift a bit and close your eyes as Chan pecks a barely there kiss on your neck, then rests his chin on your shoulder once again.

They finally come to a decision and everyone moves to grab snacks from the kitchen and fill the floor with pillows and blankets. You collapse on the floor once the makeshift bed is made and yawn obnoxiously into the fabric, prompting Jeongin to poke your back with his foot.

“Hey, cut that out.”

“Wake up, the movie hasn’t even started yet.”

“Mhm.”

Jeongin gives up and walks away. You lay there lazily until the blankets shift beside you, and you turn your head to see Chan getting comfortable. He smiles and pats your head endearingly.

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah…”

“C’mere.”

You groan and move into a sitting position, then slump against Chan and the couch. He chuckles and pulls a blanket over you, then wraps his arm around your shoulders. Seungmin settles back into the chair he claimed earlier with a bowl of popcorn. The couch shifts as Minho and Jisung settle in behind you, and Changbin takes a seat at the other end.

“Hey, you stole our spot,” Felix whines.

Jeongin now occupies the armchair Felix and Hyunjin were snuggled in earlier and only grins slyly as Felix pouts at him.

“Mean maknae,” You scold.

“You can sit with us, Lix,” Chan offers.

Felix does little more to argue with the youngest and shuffles over to you and Chan. He easily wedges himself between you two and curls up in your direction. Chan helps him tuck under a blanket and offers him a pillow, which he drowsily accepts. You pat Felix’s head and let him rest a hand on your thigh.

“Hyunjin, get the light?” Minho requests.

The lights dim and you hear Hyunjin’s steps pause before he joins you on the floor. He sits next to you and throws a blanket over the two of you. He takes a moment to settle in and rests his head on your shoulder once he finally does. You feel his hand roam under the blanket for a moment, before it finds Felix’s where it rests in your lap. The two intertwine fingers there, concealed under plush layers.

Soon you feel them shift again, and you fail to ignore the way they brush their hands over your thigh. Their hands disconnect and Felix cups your thigh again, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. You inhale sharply, which seems to go unnoticed as his motions go on without break. Hyunjin’s fingers spread over your thigh, then squeeze gently. Your leg spasms in response, and Chan glances over. You swallow thickly as his eyes flit over the subtle, yet undeniable, motion under the blanket.

Chan’s arm falls from your shoulder and moves around your waist, then he presses a kiss to your temple. He rests his head against yours and continues to watch the movie. Hyunjin nestles his head further in the crook of your neck and slides his hand under your thigh, then slowly gropes there. This time is a bit rougher and your core throbs from the teasing. Felix’s thumb moves a bit higher up your thigh and you let out a controlled exhale to calm yourself.

“Are you-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Minho,” You hiss.

His voice startles you at the same time his hot breath washes over your ear. Hyunjin lifts his head and draws his hand away discreetly while turning to glare behind him. Felix’s hand stills but remains where it is. Your heart pounds in your chest and you catch Felix and Chan both biting their lips to suppress their laughter.

“Sorry, are you using that blanket?”

Minho reaches past you and Hyunjin to point at one of the extra blankets on the floor, no doubt suspicious or aware of the tension growing between you. Hyunjin silently grabs the blanket and passes it to Minho, who mumbles a soft thank-you. You sigh and shove your burning face into Chan’s neck. Felix moves his hand a bit lower and pats your leg as he looks up at you with wide, gentle, eyes. Hyunjin casually yawns and rests his head on your shoulder again, but this time keeps his hands to himself.

Hesitantly, you slide your hand over Felix’s. He turns his over and caresses your fingers slowly. His fingertips follow the lines of your palm then slip down to your wrist. He soothes you with gentle touches then clasps your hands together once you have settled. You shut your eyes and will yourself to relax as the movie continues peacefully.

“Hey,” Chan’s soft voice in your ear startles you awake as the credits are rolling, “Everyone’s heading to bed now.”

“Oh, okay.”

Felix has already taken his leave, but Hyunjin is still beside you on the floor. He sits with mussed hair and a dazed expression, probably just coming to as well, and watches Chan as he helps you up from the floor. You smile at him and let Chan lead you back to his bedroom.

You stretch then sit on the end of the bed as Chan shuts his door.

“Was that okay?” He asks while kneeling in front of you on the floor.

“Y-Yeah, I liked it.”

“Good, I thought you did but I couldn’t…”

Chan allows himself to trail off as you lean in and kiss him. He hums softly and moves closer, pulling your thighs around his sides as he presses his hips into your core. You whine softly into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to draw him in deeper. You stay like this for a while, lightly grinding and trading heated kisses. Eventually, Chan breaks the kiss so you move to mouthing at his jawline.

“Oh, babe… You’re so… Fuck…”

“Hah… Hot, sexy, beautiful?”

“All of the above…”

He cranes his neck and lets you litter sloppy kisses where you please. He groans and pushes you back on the bed, then dives in to attack your lips. His hand slips into your pants and prods your heat gently, experimentally spreading some of the slick around with two fingers.

“Good girl.”

“Ahn…”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come on,” You cry softly when Chan separates from you.

“I’ll be quick.”

Chan cracks the door open while doing little to fix his tousled hair or wipe away the sultry kisses you left on his neck. Someone speaks and he responds by throwing the door open and pulling them in by their shirt.

“Stay here. Where’s Felix?”

“O-Okay, uh,” Hyunjin stammers, “Bathroom?”

Chan steps out and shuts the door behind him. Hyunjin braves a glimpse at you then rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he turns away. You smirk and sit up, wiping your mouth and combing your fingers through your hair as you study him. He toys with his fingers and sways uneasily where he stands. Chan returns with Felix faster than you expected and silently shoves him into the room before shutting and standing at the door.

“Oh,” Felix gasps when he sees you, “Um, what-“

“On the bed. Sit.”

Hyunjin and Felix share a look and silently obey. You grin wildly, admiring Chan’s authority. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands as the two settle at the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Felix starts.

“Chan, if we did something wrong-”

“Quiet.”

Hyunjin’s mouth snaps shut and he stares in disbelief.

“As soon as I step away from this door you can go, but not a second before,” Chan crosses his arms and leans against the door as he speaks, “I know what everyone says about me. You all think I don’t know what you’re doing. Flirting, hooking up, checking us out, I see all of it. The only reason I’ve acted oblivious is to make her comfortable. I wanted her to be ready.”

You preen and watch him with admiration.

“I don’t have a problem with you putting your hands on her, but could you at least offer to give me the same treatment?”

“W-Wait,” Felix splutters, “Y-You’re not mad?”

“I’m furious that while you were feeling up my girlfriend neither of you made a move on me. Are you trying to kill my ego?”

Hyunjin bows his head and Felix laughs incredulously.

“We didn’t,” Felix reasons, “It’s not like we didn’t want to t-touch you.”

“We didn’t think you were interested, Chan. You… don’t act like her.”

You giggle and smirk at your boyfriend as his attention falls on you.

“Well?” You prod.

“You two can stay if you want, but we’re not putting our hands on you tonight. You can watch me and y/n, and that’s it; if that’s alright with you, love?”

Your body warms as you nod.

“Of course, baby.”

Chan smiles at you then turns to his friends.

“Your choice. Stay or go.”

He leaves his post at the door and drops on the bed in front of you. Felix and Hyunjin both remain seated but you are too enraptured by Chan to watch what they are doing. He tenderly cups your face and you pull him in by his shirt to complete the kiss. He chuckles and leads you to lay down again as he cups the back of your neck and begins kissing down your throat. You sigh happily as you fall back into a rhythm of kissing and grinding slowly.

You let your head fall to the side as you tug Chan’s shirt upward. In the moment he takes to remove it you let your gaze fall on Hyunjin and Felix. The cool light of Chan’s room washes over their delicate features and dimly illuminates their flushed faces. They both seem tense with anticipation, but at the same time are lounging together with ease. Felix’s lip is trapped by his teeth as he drinks in the sight of Chan trailing kisses over your neck and chest, while Hyunjin bashfully watches your reactions and curls his fingers in the bedspread. You gasp softly as Chan’s hands slide into your pants and tug at your panties.

“God, I can’t wait to have you.”

Your laughter turns into a breathy moan as he lowers your pants and presses a deep kiss into the v-line of your stomach. You pant softly as he strips you of your pants, then helps you remove your shirt. He resumes covering you with teasing kisses: from your chest, down your sternum, over your stomach, and finally between your thighs. You mewl as he avoids the wet patch growing on your panties, and scowl softly as he rises again.

“Don’t be a tease.”

“Ha, you’re so wet already.”

He presses his thumb against your clit through your panties and draws out a whining moan as he circles there slowly. Your voice is probably too loud for the late hour but you are unable to silence yourself.

“Channie…”

“I’m sorry, but look at you. Was that all it took? They barely touched you and you’re dripping.”

Your back arches as you moan pitifully. Chan takes his time pulling your panties off, savoring your desperate sounds and writhing figure.

“Chan…”

He spreads your thighs, quickly, given how pliant you are for him, and holds your panties up gracefully between his fingers.

“Are you watching? Do you see what you do to her?”

“Fuck, y/n…” Felix hisses.

You look at them and sigh softly. Felix meets your eyes easily, his lips are slightly parted as he watches you with a softness. Hyunjin’s gaze flicks away from your face for a second, then returns shyly as he watches you in silent distress. His palms rest over his crotch but he does little to relieve himself. Felix has a pillow clutched in his lap.

You prop yourself up and unclasp your bra, then let Chan remove it for you.

“Don’t you two want to cum?” You ask innocently while slowly tracing your bottom lip with your index finger. Your eyes wander over their busy hands thoughtfully, “Chan’s deal was that we weren’t going to touch you, he never said anything about touching yourselves’.”

“Fuck,” Felix growls as he digs his fingers into the pillow.

Hyunjin looks away and shyly gropes himself through his sweats. You bite your lip and glance at Chan, who watches them both with a pleased demeanor.

“She likes it when you do what she says.”

Hyunjin nods and moans softly, but hesitates to continue. He looks at Felix, who gently draws him closer.

“Come here, babe.”

“Lix…”

Felix slides his hands over Hyunjin’s abdomen, then into his pants. He whines at the contact and melts as Felix laps at his ear. Chan lowers himself between your legs and slides his hands over your thighs.

“No.”

He stops and looks up attentively then quickly rises to face you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just fuck me already.”

He laughs and gives you a heated kiss.

“I want to make sure you’re ready, baby.”

“Don't make me wait anymore, Chan. Please.”

While your voice is steady your body is shaking, anxious for some relief from the tension. Chan notes your quivering limbs and kisses you again, sweeter than before, then he tests your patience.

“Do you really need it? I’m sure you can wait a bit longer.”

“I’m serious, Chan.”

“Then prove it.”

You huff and grasp his throat as you crash your lips against his. He groans and pushes closer, following your hand as it slides around his neck then up into his hair. He obediently falls into you and groans into your mouth as you fumble to pull down his pants with your other hand. He turns his head away, breaking the kiss, and helps you slide off his bottoms as you nip at his neck.

“Are you nervous, baby?”

“Shut up.”

Chan finally kicks off his pants and boxers as he laughs at your response. You smirk and suck roughly on his ear lobe as he sighs playfully. You groan as he leans away to grab a pillow, and tucks it sweetly under your head.

“So impatient, my love. Don’t you have any appreciation for chivalry?”

“Chivalry is dead.”

He kisses your forehead tenderly.

“Mhm, you’re so cute.”

He abruptly rolls you onto your side and grasps your hips as he grinds against you. You gasp and moan as he folds himself around you and slides his cock against your heat. Gently, he turns your head to look at Felix and Hyunjin while he speaks breathlessly in your ear.

“Did you forget we have an audience?”

Your eyes flutter as he nips along your jawline. Felix is curled around Hyunjin as he thrusts into the hand still concealed beneath his sweats. Hyunjin has a hand awkwardly tucked into Felix’s pants, palming him messily. They watch you with hazy eyes between messy kisses.

“Chan…”

“Look at what you do to them.”

“Oh…”

Your cheeks flare from the attention, the circumstances suddenly becoming much clearer. Chan kisses your cheek then murmurs into your ear, “I love you so much. I love you so, so much, baby.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you ready? Do you want me now?”

“Yes…”

Chan lifts your leg over his hip and enters you with a shallow thrust. You gasp and muffle your moans in your pillow as he pulls out, then gradually pushes deeper with each subsequent thrust. He buries his nose in your neck and groans softly as his body molds into yours.

“Does that feel nice? You like it, baby?”

You nod and turn your head to kiss him messily. He returns the kiss then breaks it. You brush your lips over the bridge of his nose as he murmurs against your chin.

“Look at them, baby. Jinnie and Lix are losing it over you.”

“Hah, Chan…”

You do as told. Chan peppers kisses over your neck as you watch Felix and Hyunjin, and they watch you back. 

“Touch yourself,” Chan commands.

You whimper as you slide your fingers between your legs. You tilt your head back to expose more of your neck, and sob softly as his fingers join yours to play with your clit. He kisses your ear and murmurs sweet praises between each kiss.

“That’s right, you’re beautiful, baby. So wet for me, so good. You’re such a good girl.”

“Fuck, Chan…”

“You’re so perfect. My sweet girl.”

He prods your folds gently, stretching you open even more as he slips a digit in alongside his cock. His thumb circles your clit and you abandon touching yourself, opting instead to wrap your hand around Chan’s arm and cling to him. He sucks gently at your neck as his pace quickens and you feel your climax approaching. He rocks into you recklessly, his inevitable release signaled by his shaky breaths and pointed thrusts. You try to watch Hyunjin and Felix, but your eyes struggle to focus as you are blissfully fucked out.

“That’s my babygirl. You’re so good for me.”

You moan dumbly at the praise, smothered in Chan’s love as he compliments his deep thrusts with the softest kisses. This intimacy was familiar to you, but now so overwhelming with observers. It was the same love Chan always made to you, perhaps that was why he wanted the others to watch. In one way, he was setting the standard. How to talk to you, how to touch you, how to worship you. In another way, it was a message: this is what you are missing out on if you ignore me again.

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the pillow, although you had already been too noisy, and scratch your nails over Chan’s bicep. He groans as you clench around him and quiver from the intensity of your sudden orgasm. He slides his fingers from between your legs and up to your stomach, lessening the overstimulation a bit as he chases his own release. You crane your neck to give soft kisses and whisper words of encouragement into his ear. He keeps his face tucked into your neck as he holds you tight to him, now too far gone to manage a coherent sentence. 

He makes a wrecked noise, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and fills you up with his release. You reach your hand up to cup his head and kiss his temple as he pants through the afterglow. His cock softens and he drowsily pulls out, only to collapse into your welcoming arms shortly after. You trade lazy kisses as he catches his breath and lets his hands roam over your thighs and stomach. You giggle softly and cup his face while staring into his loving eyes.

“Mhm, good job, baby.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

Chan slumps on top of you and wraps his arms around your torso. You return his hug while tracing little shapes over his back. He turns his head where it rests beside yours to face the others.

“How you doing, boys?”

“Fuck off,” Felix jokes, “You cocky bastard.”

You giggle and rub Chan’s back lazily.

“Did you two come?” You ask.

Hyunjin makes a tired noise and Felix laughs. You look back at Chan as he lowers his head to rest on your chest. Hyunjin watches you with flushed cheeks and an expression mixed with shame and anticipation.  A stain darkens the crotch of his sweats. Felix is lazing against him, his eyes shut and his cheek pressed against Hyunjin’s shoulder. His eyelids lift heavily as he looks at you and smiles.

“Good boys…”

Chan laughs at their reactions to your praise: mild shock and sheepish satisfaction.

“I didn’t imagine you two would be so into the praise thing,” Hyunjin mumbles.

Chan replies, “Oh? What did you imagine? Care to share?”

“Ha… Maybe another time…”

Chan rises up and you let your arms fall above your head as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Not to kick you two out, but I have to get y/n cleaned up… She’s not going to stay up much longer, as you can see.”

“Mhm…”

“Ah, but,” Felix stammers, “A-Are we good?”

“We’re more than good,” You purr.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Lix. You and Jin should get to bed.”

“O-Okay… Um…”

You pry your eyes open to look at Felix, who struggles to choose his words under your’s and Chan’s waiting gazes.

“Is it okay if we, um… Kiss goodnight?”

“Oh, Lixie,” Hyunjin breathes.

Chan grins.

“Well… I don’t know… I’m still a bit sore about earlier…”

“Shut up,” You chastise as you reach out to Felix, “Come here, baby.”

Hyunjin laughs as Chan stares at you, appalled. Felix grins and crawls across the bed, letting you guide him close to share a few tender kisses.

“Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight.”

Felix sits up and smiles smugly at Chan, who grabs him and begins tickling him mercilessly.

“Ah-AH! I’m sorry!”

Hyunjin shakes his head as Chan squeezes Felix in his arms. Felix pouts up at him and screeches as Chan wetly kisses his cheek.

“Ugh, no tongue! Please!”

You look patiently at Hyunjin, who looks away as he notices you.

“You don’t want to kiss me, Jinnie?”

“Ah… No, I do…”

“You’re so shy, you’ve kissed me before.”

“Not… When you’re naked…”

You both look at Felix as he gasps, he is still wrapped in Chan’s arms but now the two are sharing a deep kiss. You watch Hyunjin contemplate before slowly making his way to you. You smile patiently as he hovers over you, and slowly shut your eyes.

“Goodnight, Hyunjinnie…”

“Goodnight,” He whispers before planting a kiss on your cheek, “Sleep well.”

“Ugh, Chan,” Felix groans, “This is weird.”

“Why? What do you mean weird?”

“You’re naked…”

“I just let you watch me fuck my girlfriend, and since when do you have a problem with me being naked?”

You peek up at Hyunjin and gently caress his cheek as he moves away from you. Chan drops Felix on the bed and rolls his eyes.

“Get out of my room already, you little monster.”

You snicker as Chan turns his attention to Hyunjin, who lets himself be led closer to receive a soft peck on the cheek. Hyunjin’s face burns as he shyly returns one, then follows Felix up from the bed.

“Goodnight,” Chan sings.

“Goodnight,” Felix replies.

Hyunjin smiles at the two of you and waves as he and Felix depart. Chan looks back at you as the door clicks shut and exhales softly.

“I think that went well.”

You giggle.

“I think so too.”

Your eyes fall shut again as a yawn escapes your lips. Chan chuckles and leans down to kiss your cheek.

“It’s alright, love. I’ll clean you up, you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Thanks baby…”

By the time you roll out of bed the next morning nearly everyone has gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. Felix is making pancakes, Hyunjin is waiting at the coffee machine, Jeongin and Jisung are eating at the table, and Changbin is chatting with Felix.

“Good morning, nuna,” Jeongin sings as you take a seat across from him.

“Good morning everyone,” You smile at the soft chorus of voices that reply, “What’s on the agenda today?”

“We were just talking about it,” Jisung answers, “We’re split between staying in and going out.”

Seungmin shuffles in and hovers beside Hyunjin. Changbin delivers a plate of fresh pancakes to you and smiles at your surprised reaction.

“No, Binnie, you should eat these ones.”

“I’m good, I already ate.”

“I’ll take them,” Seungmin mutters.

“Ladies first,” Changbin argues.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Felix comments.

“Thank you, oppa,” You purr, which Changbin waves off with a wink, “And thank you for making breakfast, Lix.”

“No problem.”

Felix shoots you a smile over his shoulder and you notice a soft blush on his cheeks. You smile and let your gaze linger until he turns away.

“Are you going to drink the coffee or just stare at it?” Seungmin asks Hyunjin.

“Oh,” Hyunjin mumbles, “I’m drinking it.”

Hyunjin glances over his shoulder as you giggle then quickly looks away, but you still see redness in the tips of his ears. The interaction does not go unnoticed. Jeongin and Jisung both glance between you and the boys and give you curious glares. Chan enters the kitchen with only a towel around his waist. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and the marks you left on him last night are on full display. He claps his hands together as Minho files in behind him.

“What’s cooking?”

“Felix is making pancakes,” Changbin replies.

“I’m next,” Seungmin cuts in.

“Noted,” Chan replies.

He stops beside you and kisses your temple.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

“Morning, love,” You hum, “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, the best.”

You giggle as Chan gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You hold a bite up for him and he happily accepts it, then gives you a quick peck on the nose.

“Get a room,” Changbin heckles.

“Looks like they already did,” Minho mutters.

“Get some clothes,” Seungmin groans.

Chan rolls his eyes and leans down to accept another bite before stepping away. You continue eating your breakfast in silence then notice Jeongin silently trying to catch your attention. You tilt your head as you watch him try to discreetly mime questions.

“We were thinking of heading out for dinner tonight,” Changbin informs the room, “But how do you guys feel?”

Chan moves across the room to grab a glass from the cupboard, standing beside Hyunjin in the process. He drinks his coffee and averts his eyes. Jeongin points to the two then wiggles his finger between them.

“I’m good with anything,” Chan answers.

“Where would we go?” Minho asks.

You shrug, feigning ignorance, and Jeongin glares.

“What’s a good place that we haven’t been to in a while?” Changbin ponders.

Jeongin then points to Hyunjin then you. You smirk and scrunch your face up as you feign consideration then shake your head. He responds by raising his eyebrow and tapping his fingers together as you fail to convince him. Jisung looks between you then repeatedly gestures to Felix with his eyes.

“Wasn’t there an Italian place near here or something?” Chan answers.

“That place is always full,” Hyunjin murmurs, “You need to reserve months in advance.”

“Oh, true.”

“I mean,” Felix pipes up, “If we stay in I can just make dinner?”

“No,” Changbin protests, “You made breakfast, you shouldn’t have to make dinner too.”

You roll your eyes at Jisung and shake your head, but still smile coyly as they stare you down. You happen to glance at Minho, who is watching Chan from across the room. Your boyfriend stretches, showing off the muscles in his back, then takes his glass to the fridge to pour a drink. Hyunjin stares at the floor, but his fingers curl around the edge of the counter with visible strain.

The conversation continues in the background, but you find yourself distracted by Jeongin’s senseless gesturing. You realize he is pointing at your phone and pick it up to read the newly sent messages.

in: why is felix staring at you like that

in: did you fuck or what?

You glance at Felix, who seems to be sneaking glances at you as he converses with the others. Jisung leans across the table to peek at Jeongin’s phone and creates a new groupchat for the three of you.

js: tell ussss

js: ;(

You shake your head at them.

js: whyyyy

js: jinnie can’t even look at you or chan

js: we have to knowww

js: plus

js: lino saw them leave your room last night

js: sus af

in: you have to tell us!

in: it’s so obvious you guys did something

Jeongin and Jisung both pout at you. You sigh.

yn: they were with us last night

yn: jin and lix

in: what did you do?

yn: they just watched chan and I

Jisung’s eyes widen and his mouth makes an ‘o’ as Jeongin grins devilishly.

in: kinky

yn: that was it

js: so far? ;))

Jeongin snickers and you cover your face.

yn: don’t tell anyone

yn: >:(

yn: I mean it

Jeongin makes a lip-locking motion and Jisung nods solemnly while crossing his heart.

yn: also, I think your boyfriend is eye-fucking my boyfriend 

Jeongin points to himself, confused, and mouths ‘boyfriend’. Jisung rather indifferently nods at you in agreement then shoots Jeongin a judgemental glare.

js: you don’t even have a boyfriend so she was obviously talking to me

in: oh right

Jeongin looks embarrassed as you grin at him.

“What the fuck are you three doing?” Seungmin interrogates.

“Mind your business,” Jisung sasses.

The other members seem to clue in to your absence in the current conversation.

“What were they doing?” Chan asks.

“I don’t know, but I think they’re texting each other.”

Changbin comes to look over your shoulder and you quickly lock your phone before slamming it facesidedown on the table.

“What are you talking about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Changbin rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab your phone. While futile, you attempt to wrestle it back by grabbing his arm.

“What’s her passcode, Chan?”

Chan smirks and shrugs as he watches you throw more of your weight helplessly against Changbin.

“I don’t remember.”

“Liar.”

“Let go or I’ll bite you.”

“You’re not going to bite me.”

You unhinge your jaw and clamp down on Changbin’s bicep, earning a startled screech as he abandons his mission and skitters away.

“You bit me!”

“She warned you,” Chan defends.

“It’s rude to kiss and tell,” Minho teases while shooting you a knowing look.

“It wasn’t a kiss, hyung!” Changbin argues.

“It’s also rude to stare, Lee Know,” You retort.

Minho smiles smugly and shrugs. Jisung grins at the two of you and hurriedly refocuses the subject on your plans for the day.

“Why don’t we just order in? That way none of us have to cook and we don’t have to worry about getting ready to go out.”

“What should we do in the meantime?” Felix asks.

“I’m going to do nothing all day,” You announce proudly.

“I like that idea,” Jeongin agrees.

“You have to practice being a trophy wife?” Seungmin remarks.

“I want to be the best.”

“I have work to do,” Chan laments.

There are multiple exclamations of protest and Chan throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll be done by dinner, I promise.”

“Channie,” Changbin whines, “You’re no fun.”

“I think he’s fun,” You murmur while winking at your boyfriend.

He winks back and gives Changbin an ‘I told you so’ look. Changbin lightly bops the back of your head and points at Chan.

“Go to horny jail, the both of you.”

Jisung raises his eyebrows suggestively at you and Jeongin snickers into his hands. You brave a glance at Hyunjin, who is watching Chan with a fond smile. Felix looks similarly lovestruck. Your heart stutters watching them.

“Can I bring my laptop to horny jail?” Chan jokes, bringing you back to reality.

“No.”

“Aw.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I’m looking for some soulmate fics! Specifically soulmate marks, but I’m open to anything.

I also don’t mind if it’s human aus or just their normal good omens universe

Thank you for everything you do for this fandom!

Hullo dear! Have you checked out our soulmate tag?

#soulmate au

Here are some you may also enjoy.

Dancing With a Stranger by KiaraMGrey [Rated E, 5k words]

When Aziraphale agreed to go out with Anathema to a club, he never expected to meet a handsome stranger. What's more, he doesn't understand why the very sight of the beautiful redhead stirs something inside him. Something that feels a lot like memories.

or

They find each other, in every universe. But in some, the veil is thinner than others

He'll Gladly Drown by IntoTheMiddleDistance [Rated G, ~2k words]

Soulmate/Soulmark AU. Aziraphale and Crowley are soulmates; Aziraphale has seen Crowley’s soulmark and has known the truth for a long time. Crowley has no idea they’re so deeply connected. Worried about the consequences of being soulmates with a demon, Aziraphale has made sure to hide his soulmark from Crowley. But in the celebration after Armageddon fails, the truth comes out.

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream by Lurlur for Pearl09, WyvernQuill [Rated T, 7900 words]

Soulmates share dreams any time they are both asleep. Crowley has spent 6000 years hoping to find his soulmate, but right now, after the Apocalypse has been averted, he'd be happy just to have Aziraphale's love.

-Mod AB

[thelonelyshore-if]

The Lonely Shore Devlog #7

( 04/08/2024 ) Chapter One, Part Two: 17,339 words Added: +7900 words Total Wordcount: 131,648 words

Long time no devlog!

I hope everyone's been doing well over the past month. We're already a week into April, which feels impossible. I was able to make some really solid progress this weekend, and I figured it was about time for a new devlog.

Recently, I posted about the writer's block I've been struggling with. Last month was a rough one for me; I was dealing with a personal loss on top of a really busy month at work. It seems to be finally passing. I couldn't be happier, as I want to get the rest of chapter one out as soon as possible.

Part of what's slowed down progress on this half of the chapter is the amount of branching I've subjected myself too. I'm convinced it's the strongest choice for the story, and I think it'll create some really fun replayability, but it is, unfortunately, a ton of writing lol.

To vaugly tease a little bit, the MC is going to visit the library, and then they'll get the choice to visit Ravi or Jay at work, or go to the mall (which has three different possible scenes, including visiting Beck or getting coffee with Yas), before the scene comes back together for what I've been affectionately describing as a "team meeting". I think it will be really fun, and being able to hop from scene to scene has actually helped me get back into the writing groove!

I can't put a solid date on a release, since I'm still deep in the writing process, but my goal is to have it out by the end of the month.

For your patience, here are three separate sneak previews <3

[picascribit]

20 years later ...

20 years ago yesterday, I made the above post on my livejournal.

20 years ago today, I started writing and posting my first fanfic, Moony's Tale.

I don't have any particular love for the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, and my relationship with HP as a whole is complicated these days, but it's hard to deny that the movie and the series had a greater impact on my life in terms of subsequent time spent than any other media I've ever consumed. So happy faniversary to me!

Fanfics I wrote or started writing in 2004:

Survivor's Guilt: Moony's Tale (Wolfstar, 71k words, rated E, UNEDITED) - Prisoner of Azkaban, retold from Remus's POV.

Survivor's Guilt: Padfoot's Tale (Wolfstar, 63k, E, UNEDITED) - Prisoner of Azkaban, retold from Sirius's POV.

My Dearest Moony (Wolfstar, 600, G, EDITED & PODFICCED) - A letter from Sirius to Remus, found after Sirius's death.

A Polyjuice Duet (Wolfstar, 7900, E, UNEDITED) - Sirius brews Polyjuice potion. Shenanigans ensue. Unedited.

Secret Keepers (Jily & Peter, 21k, E, UNEDITED) - The last days of Lily and James Potter, told from four different POVs.

The Power of Two (Fred & George, 35k, rated M, UNEDITED) - Canon-divergent post-OotP AU wherein the Weasley twins are instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort.

[munsonkitten]

sugar on my tongue

by deadratz

explicit • 1/? • 7900 words

accidental sugar baby eddie, soft dom steve, sub eddie, misunderstandings, didn’t know they were dating, virgin eddie

If there's one thing Eddie's piece-of-shit father taught him, it's that nothing is free. Everyone is always looking for something in return. That's why, when Steve starts giving Eddie gifts, Eddie tries to find ways to pay him back.

Read on AO3

[cheynovak]

Forged - Part one

Summary: Calista is a young woman who lives with her uncle and nephew since her parents died, one day 'the God king's' guards under the leadership of a knight come to town. Looking for young women to present to the crown prince Cyrus (Luke Evans) , who is in search of a wife before he can claim the throne. Calista meets the handsome Knight Ezra (Jensen Ackles) who doesn't seem to be who she thinks he is. Will she fall for the dark intriguing prince, or will she fall for the guidance and warmth of Ezra?

        

Warnings: Nothing too explicitly in the story.

English is not my first language

Words:  7900

Part 1 out of... I'm sorry I want to put so much into it, that it is getting to long for one shot.

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The forge was always hot, always alive. It was a place where sweat and strength melded with metal, transforming raw material into objects of beauty and utility. My uncle Henry thrived here, his rough hands and muscled arms constantly engaged in the ceaseless dance of the smith. My young cousin Micah and I lived in the small cottage behind the forge, where the clanging of hammers was our lullaby. 

Today was like any other, or so it seemed. I was sweeping the front of the shop when the silence was disturbed by the sound of hoofs, many, many hoofs. A royal knight of the gods arrived, with a few guards. All working to protect the kingdom of the Gods.

Guards where humans who wanted to become godly in hope to claim the title of knight one day.   

Their arrival was announced by the shimmering of their armour, so brilliant in the sunlight that it appeared forged from gold itself. Micah, who was playing with a wooden sword nearby, stopped mid-swing, his eyes wide with wonder. 

"Calista! Look at them!" he exclaimed, dropping his toy and running over to me. His face was alight with excitement, a stark contrast to the sooty, sweaty atmosphere of our world. 

"They are quite a sight," I agreed, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Why do you think they are here?” I had no idea. Uncle Henry emerged from the forge, wiping his brow with a cloth. The heat and soot of the forge clung to him. 

When he saw the royal guards, his expression shifted from one of routine fatigue to wary alertness. It was unusual for the them to stop in a town like ours unless there was trouble. They were notorious for their strict enforcement of the gods' laws, but to children like Micah, they were heroes in shining armour. 

"Calista, Micah, get back into the shop," Uncle Henry ordered, his voice firm. 

Micah hesitated, his eyes glued to the guards. I gently tugged his hand, leading him back toward the shop. As we retreated, my eyes met briefly with the leader, the knight. His helmet obscured most of his face, but his piercing green eyes were unmistakable. There was something about him, a depth that both intrigued and unsettled me. I quickly looked away, ushering Micah inside. 

"Why did we have to leave?" Micah asked, his voice tinged with disappointment. 

"It's not safe to be around them," I explained, closing the door behind us. "Uncle Henry just wants to make sure we're out of harm's way." 

Micah's shoulders slumped, but he didn't argue. Instead, he moved to the window, peeking out at the guards as they talked to my uncle and tended to their horses. I could see the longing in his eyes, the desire to be part of their world. I understood that longing, anything was better than this dusty place, though I would never admit it out loud. 

Inside the shop, the air started to cool down, the familiar smell of metal and soot providing a strange comfort. Uncle Henry joined us shortly after, his expression serious. "They're looking for young women to attend their prince his party.” After that he mumbled something about finding the right coal to press a diamond from.  

Uncle Henry said quietly. "Best we stay out of their way until they leave. They are staying the night and asked to take care of their horses."  

"The God prince?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. We heard stories all our life, but never seen the sons of the God King. Uncle Henry shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Just stay inside and keep an eye on Micah." 

That night, we stayed inside, the usual warmth and clamour of the forge replaced by a tense silence. As I lay in my shared bed with Micah, my thoughts moved back to the knight with green eyes until Micah spoke sleepy "I want to be like them,"  

"I know," I replied, holding him closer to me. “And one day you will prove the Gods you are worthy.” "I will," he promised himself before drifting to sleep.   

-- 

The next morning, after making sure the fire was hot enough for my uncle to work, I took Micah to the market. He skipped beside me hoping we would see some guards.  

The market was bustling with activity, and as we moved through the stalls, I noticed a few of the guards buying food. They looked at me, their eyes lingering longer than necessary. I scanned their faces, but he wasn't among them. 

I knew what they must see, the ugly poor girl with ashy dark long brown hair and brown eyes, and a dress stained from the coal I carried for my uncle. I hated the way I looked, except for my eyes. I had my mother's eyes, big and dark, and they were the one part of myself I took pride in. 

As we continued through the market, I saw the Jamerson sisters flirting with the guards. They welcomed their attention, giggling and tossing their perfectly white blond curled hair, batting their bright blue eyes. The guards seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling and chatting with them. I wondered if it was like this everywhere the guards went. Did people always fawn over them, despite their notoriety? 

The Jamerson’s were part from beautiful also the richest families in this town, the gems of our community, every man would want their hand in marriage, and they knew. While me, just a working-class girl with dirt under her fingernails and dirty straight hair couldn’t even dream of marriage.  

"Calista, can we get some apples?" Micah's voice broke through my thoughts. "Of course," I said, smiling down at him. We approached the fruit stand, and I handed over a few silver coins to the vendor, who gave us a friendly nod. 

As we picked our apples, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the guards nearby. 

"...only the blonds? The captain wont be pleased." 

"Keep looking. The one he wanted has to be here somewhere." 

Micah and I moved on, but their words stayed with me. They were searching for 'The one” and it seemed urgent. I wondered who it could be and what she had to be like. Maybe even dreaming of what it would be, living like a god. But I wouldn’t or couldn’t leave my family.  

Micah reached for an apple with too much enthusiasm, and it slipped from his hand, tumbling onto the ground. Several others followed, scattering across the cobblestones. The marketeer, a stout man with a furrowed brow, immediately rounded on us. 

"Hey! You need to pay for that!" he barked, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "I'm so sorry," I apologized, quickly bending down to pick up the fallen apples. Before I could gather them all, a pair of strong hands joined mine, lifting the fruit from the ground.  

I looked up and found myself staring into those same piercing green eyes from the day before. The knight handed the apples back to Micah, but his gaze remained locked on me. 

I was baffled, unable to speak as he turned to the marketeer and paid for the fruit. "No harm done," he said, his voice steady and commanding. I took in his face, unable to look away.  

His eyes were bright yet commanding, a few fine lines on his face, his eyes an intense emerald green that seemed to see right through me. His brown hair slightly longer and hung partly in his face but was just a little shorter on the sides, catching the sunlight and giving off a slight golden silky shine. His beard added a ruggedness to his godly features. 

He notices me staring, "T-thank you," I stammered, finally finding my voice I saw the crest on his armour, he was the captain. 

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Be careful next time," he said to Micah, ruffling his hair gently before turning back to me. "It's easy to get lost in the hustle of the market." 

I nodded, still stunned. " Thank you." He lingered for a moment, his gaze softening. "What's your name?" he asked. 

"Calista," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Calista," he repeated, as if tasting the sound of it. A small smile curved his lips, making his eyes even more captivating. "Is your father a good smith, Calista?"  

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "He’s my uncle, actually, Micah's father." I corrected, my voice stumbling slightly as I held my nephew close in front of me. "But yes, he's the best." His smile widened. "I'll be sure to remember that. It's rare to find skilled people these days." 

Micah clung to my side, his eyes still wide with admiration. “I want to be a knight  someday." he blurted out, unable to contain his excitement. “I’m sure you will.” he said, ruffling Micah's hair again before kneeling to match his height. "But even knights have to start somewhere. Helping your family is a good beginning." 

Micah nodded vigorously, as if receiving the most important advice of his life. "I will! I promise!" he said grabbing my bags from my hands. Showing the Knight he meant it.

He nodded once more and then turned to rejoin his comrades, who were finishing their purchases. As he walked away, I couldn't help but watch him, his commanding presence standing out even in the bustling market. 

"Calista," Micah said, tugging at my sleeve. "Can we get some sweets too?" I said we didn't have the money for sweets today, Micah lifted a coin, gold with the emblem of the gods. I looked at the knight. He nodded once more and then left with the other guards. 

I smiled, the tension of the moment easing. "Alright, let's get some sweets," I said, leading him towards the candy stall. As we made our way through the market, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, the way he had looked at me as if seeing something more. It was a feeling both thrilling and unsettling, and I knew it was one I wouldn't forget anytime soon. 

Back at the forge, Uncle Henry was busy at work, the rhythmic sound of his hammer echoing through the air. Micah ran inside to show off the sweets we had bought, but I lingered at the door, my thoughts still on him. 

Uncle Henry glanced up and saw me standing there. "Everything alright, Calista?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron. "Yes," I replied, finally stepping inside. "Just thinking." 

"About that knight ?" Micah asked, uncle looked at me, a confused look in his eyes. 

I nodded. "He's different. There's something about him..." Uncle Henry chuckled. "Be careful, Calista. The guards, especially the knights of the gods are not like us. Their lives are full of duty, danger and women." 

"I know," I said softly. "But he was kind. And he paid for the apples and gave us a gold coin." Uncle Henry's expression softened. "Kindness is rare in their world. And rarely comes for free." 

As the day went on, I tried to focus on my chores, but the knight's face kept appearing in my mind. His green eyes, his smile, the way he had spoken to Micah and me—it all felt like a dream. A small part of me hoped I would see him when he picked up his horse. As evening approached, I heard voices outside the forge. One was deep and steady, unmistakably the knight’s, but my uncle sounded upset. 

Curiosity got the better of me. I sneaked to the door and peeked out. He saw me immediately and smiled. "Why don't you ask what she wants?" he said to my uncle, his voice calm and steady. 

Uncle Henry looked defeated, his shoulders slumped. "Ask me what?" I stepped out hesitantly. The man turned to me, his eyes gentle but serious. "Calista, I've come to offer you an invitation. There is a ball at the palace in honour of Prince Cyrus. He is searching across the realms for the most beautiful women, hoping to find his bride." 

I was in shock, unable to process his words. "But I'm not beautiful," I blurted out, my insecurities surfacing. His lip twitched, almost a smile. "All diamonds were carbon once," he said softly. 

I felt a sting of offense. I knew I wasn't beautiful, but to call me that... "So, you think I'm like a piece of coal?" I retorted, my voice tinged with hurt. 

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. "Calista, I didn't mean to offend you. What I mean is that you have the potential for greatness and beauty. If you were to be chosen, your family could live on the palace grounds. Your uncle would become the royal smith, and Micah would have a greater chance to become a knight." 

"But why me?" I asked, still incredulous. He smiled again, a warmth in his eyes that made my heart flutter. "Because I see something special in you. You may not see it yet, but I do." 

I hesitated, torn between doubt and the possibilities he offered. The chance to improve our lives, to give Micah a better future... it was tempting. "What would I have to do?" I asked finally. 

"Attend the ball," he said simply. "Let the prince see you. The rest is up to fate." I looked at Uncle Henry, seeking his guidance. He nodded slowly. Micah must have sneaked up on us. His face lit up with hope. "Please, Calista! Say yes!" 

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his expectations, I would do anything for my family, for those who were left. "Alright," I said, my voice steadying. "I'll go to the ball." 

"Wonderful. I will make the arrangements. We leave tomorrow at first light."  As he turned to leave, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. The future seemed suddenly uncertain, filled with both promise and peril.  

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The thought of the palace, the ball, and the prince filled my dreams, but it was the nameless knight’s emerald eyes that stayed with me. 

The journey to the castle was on horseback, and I found myself escorted alongside the Jamerson sisters. We rode in a silent procession towards a portal that would take us to the palace. The knight kept quiet, not even looking at us, while the other guards constantly talked and flirted with the two sisters. I couldn't help but wonder how many girls they had invited. 

As we approached the portal, an uneasy feeling washed over me. The air shimmered with a magical energy, and a drowsiness began to settle over us. I realized it must have been magic by the gods, a means to ensure their safety and to keep mortals from discovering the portals and borders of their realm. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, I was slipping into a deep sleep. 

When I woke up, I was lying in a bed so large that I couldn't touch the ends even if I wanted to. The sheets were silk, soft against my skin, and the room was bathed in a gentle light. Roses adorned the walls, and golden details highlighted the exquisite furniture. It was a room fit for royalty, far beyond anything I had ever imagined. 

I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings. The bed canopy was adorned with delicate lace, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow. The scent of roses filled the air, and I felt a mixture of awe and nervousness. 

A soft knock at the door startled me. "Come in," I called out, my voice still groggy from sleep. 

A maid entered, her demeanour respectful but warm. "Good morning, miss. I hope you slept well. I am here to help you prepare for the day." 

"Thank you," I replied, still a bit dazed. "Where am I exactly?" 

"You are in the guest quarters of the palace," the maid explained as she approached the bed. "The ball in honour of Prince Cyrus will be held tonight. There are many preparations to be made." 

I nodded, still trying to process everything. The maid helped me out of bed and led me to a dressing area where a beautiful gown awaited. It was a deep royal blue. The fabric shimmered with an almost ethereal glow.  

As the maid helped me bath and dressed, I couldn't help but ask, "How many girls were invited?" 

"Quite a few from all over the realms," she replied. "The prince wishes to meet as many as possible in his search for a bride." I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. "And the guards, do they often bring girls here?" 

The maid smiled knowingly. "They do their duty, but each guard is different. Some are more honourable than others. And as long as the guard hold on to their duty the King and his sons don’t mind who they spend their time with." 

I thought of the ones I met, and him, his quiet, steady presence, I couldn’t picture him in any brothels or a different girl by his side every night... But he was still a man. Even if there was something about him that felt different, more sincere. 

Once I was dressed, the maid led me to a grand hall where other young women were gathered, including the Jamerson sisters. They looked as excited as ever, their faces glowing with anticipation. The guards were present too, their demeanour more formal in the presence of so many guests. 

As I stood there, waiting for the day to unfold, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of hope. The palace was a place of magic and possibility, and though I still felt out of place, I was determined to make the most of this opportunity. 

The day passed in a blur of preparations. We were groomed, pampered, and taught the proper etiquette for the evening. The other girls chattered excitedly, their nerves evident. I tried to stay calm, focusing on the promise I had made. This was a chance to change my family's life, to give Micah a better future. 

As the sun began to set, we were finally led to the grand ballroom. The room was magnificent, with chandeliers casting a golden light over everything. Every girl was presented to the King and his sons. Yes, plural—no one knew he had two. 

Al though the other one seemed to be running late? The king and the prince seemed similar dark haired men, but I was too far out of sight to really take them in. I waited till it was my turn.  

My nerves made my hands tremble as I watched the floor, trying not to trip over my own feet in the unfamiliar heels. When my turn came, I approached the King, my heart pounding in my chest. I knelt before him, expressing my gratitude for the invitation. Then I looked up, seeing the prince on his right side. 

Prince Cyrus had pitch-black hair and cold, piercing green eyes. His jaw was sharp, and he was stunning in his black, simple yet elegant ensemble with golden details. His lips lifted slightly in a reserved smile. "It is an honour to meet you, my prince" I said, my voice steady despite my nerves. 

"The honour is mine" he replied curtly, his gaze assessing me. Then I heard a familiar voice, and my head snapped towards the left side of the King. "I'm sorry I'm late, Father." He kissed the ring of the King. It was him, the nameless knight. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. 

The king waved at him, “Take a seat, Ezra. You haven’t missed much.”  

He smiled softly and nodded for me to look back at Prince Cyrus, who raised an eyebrow, curious about my distraction. I managed a clumsy curtsy, my heart racing, and stumbled slightly as I walked away, trying to process what I had just learned. 

As I stood there, taking it all in, lost in thought, looking at all the women trying to earn the prince his attention, many far more beautiful than me. A hand gently touched my shoulder. I turned to see Ezra, or rather, Prince Ezra, standing before me. His eyes were warm, and his smile reassuring. 

"Calista," he said softly, "I'm sorry for the deception. I wanted to get to know you without the title and the expectations. I hope you can forgive me." 

I nodded, my heart still pounding. "I understand. It’s just a lot to take in." 

Ezra smiled, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. “I wanted to find a girl who is good for my brother, not one who is throwing herself at royalty,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the Jamerson sisters. 

I looked down, feeling a pang of self-doubt. “I’m afraid I’m too plain for your brother. He won't see me amongst these beautiful women."

Ezra thought for a moment, then extended his hand towards me. “May I have this dance?” My nerves fluttered. “I’ve never danced before,” I admitted. 

“That’s alright,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll guide you.” 

As the music changed to a soft, elegant waltz, Ezra led me to the dance floor. The room seemed to hold its breath as everyone else left the floor, their eyes turning towards us. The attention was both exhilarating and daunting. 

I whispered to Ezra, “Everyone’s watching us.” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear. “Even my brother’s eyes are on you now,” he murmured. 

I glanced towards Prince Cyrus, who was observing us with a thoughtful expression. Ezra’s words made me even more nervous, but I focused on the warmth and steadiness of his hand as he guided me through the steps. 

The first few moments were shaky, but Ezra’s calm presence made it easier. He moved gracefully, his confidence providing a steady rhythm for me to follow. As we twirled and glided across the floor, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a surprising sense of ease. Ezra’s touch was gentle but firm, leading me with a skill that seemed almost effortless. 

“You’re doing beautifully,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. “Just follow my lead.” I nodded, trying to relax into the dance. The music swirled around us, and with each step, I felt more at ease. The elegant movements and the rhythm of the dance began to sweep away my anxieties. 

Ezra’s gaze remained fixed on me, and despite the many eyes on us, I felt like we were alone in the ballroom, lost in our own world. His smile was encouraging, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made me feel special and valued. 

As the dance came to an end, Ezra twirled me gracefully and led me back to the edge of the floor. The applause and whispers from the guests blended into a soft hum, but all I could focus on was Ezra’s reassuring presence. 

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly. Ezra’s smile was gentle before he stepped away. I glanced around at the other guests, feeling a new sense of confidence. Prince Cyrus’s gaze still lingered on me, I bowed softly, and the Jamerson sisters looked at me with a mix of surprise and jealousy.  

As the evening continued, I felt a renewed sense of hope. The palace, once so intimidating, now felt less daunting. Ezra's presence had transformed the grand, overwhelming space into something more manageable and welcoming. I no longer felt like a stranger in a foreign world but rather as though I had found a tentative ally in the midst of all the opulence and formality. 

As I mingled with the other guests, I kept glancing over to where Ezra was conversing with his father and Prince Cyrus. Each time our eyes met, he offered a reassuring smile or a subtle nod, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this grand and unfamiliar environment. 

 The evening wore on with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. I tried to engage with others, learning more about the palace and its guests, but my thoughts frequently drifted back to Ezra. He seemed to be making an effort to ensure that I felt included and valued, a gesture that was not lost on me.  

Dinner was served, and the grand dining hall was filled with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation. The long, opulent table stretched across the room, lined with guests in their finest attire. I had been placed at the far end of the table, a position that felt both isolated and distant from the heart of the evening’s events. 

Prince Cyrus, seated at the head of the table next to his father, seemed to be in deep conversation with Ezra. After a brief exchange, a servant approached me, a polite but firm expression on their face. “Excuse me, Miss Calista. Prince Cyrus requests that you switch places with Lady Eliza.” My heart skipped a beat my eyes darted to Ezra, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. He met my gaze with a reassuring nod, and I took a deep breath, rising from my seat. 

As I moved to the seat next to Prince Cyrus, I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Sitting closer to him, even if he wasn't directly engaging with me, felt like a small but significant shift in my favour. 

The dinner continued, and Prince Cyrus and I sat in silence while he conversed with his father and brother. The conversation was animated, and though I was not directly involved, I could sense the undercurrents of the evening’s discussions. I kept my posture upright and my demeanour composed, doing my best to blend in and make a positive impression. 

Ezra, seated across from us, seemed to notice my quiet discomfort. He leaned forward slightly, catching my eye with a supportive glance. “Lady Calista,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear, “you should know that your uncle is indeed highly regarded as a horse smith. His work is impressive, even by our standards.” 

I smiled gratefully at Ezra’s attempt to include me in the conversation. “Thank you, your highness.” I replied softly. “He’s dedicated to his craft. It means a lot to me that you think highly of his work.” 

Ezra nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps he can find a spot amongst our staff at the tables.” Prince Cyrus glanced briefly at our exchange but quickly returned to his conversation with his father. I took comfort in Ezra’s presence and his efforts to make me feel more included. 

As the dinner continued, the plates were cleared, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. I found myself more at ease, aided by Ezra’s occasional attempts to draw me into the discussion. His kindness and the small gestures of support helped me feel less like an outsider. 

At one point, Prince Cyrus turned his attention to me, his piercing green eyes assessing me with a new curiosity. “So, Calista,” he said, his tone polite but distant, “what do you think about the palace so far?” 

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to keep my response genuine yet tactful. “The palace is incredibly impressive,” I said, glancing around at the opulent surroundings. “It’s a world so different from my own, but it’s fascinating to experience it firsthand. I’m grateful for the opportunity.” 

Prince Cyrus nodded, seeming to consider my words. “I’m glad you’re finding it intriguing. It’s not often we have guests from such different backgrounds.”  the way he said those words, I had no idea if he liked of dislikes it. But the side eye to his brother was clear.  

As the evening drew to a close, I retired to my chambers, my mind still buzzing from the day’s events. The opulence of the palace and the complexity of court life had left me both exhilarated and overwhelmed. The next morning, after a restless night, I decided to take a stroll through the palace grounds to clear my head and find some solace in the beauty of my surroundings. 

I wandered through the vast corridors and winding paths until I discovered a hidden garden, a serene oasis of lush greenery and blooming flowers. At the heart of the garden was a tranquil lake, its surface reflecting the soft morning light. The atmosphere was peaceful, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace’s interior. 

As I approached the lake, I spotted Prince Cyrus sitting on the edge, leaning on his hands, face towards the sun, his black shirt was slightly open, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest.  

His presence was striking, and for a moment, I was captivated by his beauty. The sight of him in such a relaxed, informal setting was a departure from the formalities of the previous evening. 

He looked nothing like his brother and yet, in some subtle ways, they were very much alike. My gaze must have lingered longer than intended, as Prince Cyrus turned and noticed me staring. I felt a flush of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

Prince Cyrus’s eyes softened slightly, and he gestured for me to come closer. “No need to apologize, Calista. Please, join me.” 

I hesitated for a moment, my heart racing as I approached him. The garden was peaceful, and the tranquillity seemed to offer a moment of reprieve from the grandeur of the palace. As I reached the edge of the lake, Prince Cyrus patted the grass beside him, inviting me to sit. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. I gingerly sat down on the grass next to him, the soft blades cushioning my weight. The morning sun cast a gentle glow over the scene, and the ripples on the lake shimmered in the light. Despite the initial awkwardness, the atmosphere felt surprisingly relaxed. 

Prince Cyrus leaned back on his elbows, his gaze fixed on the water. “I often come here to find some peace away from the formalities of palace life. It’s a rare moment of solitude.” 

I looked at him, noting how different he appeared. "It’s beautiful here,” I said, taking in the serene surroundings. 

“It is,” he agreed, casting a sidelong glance at me. His expression grew more curious as he asked, “So, why are you here, Calista?”  

I looked at him, slightly confused by his question. "I get the sense that you’re not entirely comfortable with attention and spotlight.” he added. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not used to being in the centre of attention. I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person.” 

Cyrus smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I understand... Although, from what I saw last night, you handled the attention quite well while dancing in my brothers arms.” I felt a flush of warmth at the memory of our dance. It had been a moment of unexpected connection, and the compliment, even indirectly, made me feel good. “I suppose I did manage to hold my own,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Cyrus’s smile faltered slightly, and I noticed a flicker of displeasure in his eyes. “I see,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Well, perhaps it’s not entirely surprising given the circumstances, he did meet you first.”  

“Tell me,” Cyrus continued, his gaze intense and probing, “are you here for the throne, me, or my brother?” 

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to navigate the delicate balance of honesty and diplomacy. “I’m not here for the throne,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “I’m no queen, but my dream is for my family to have everything they can dream of."

"And hoping to be wed to a man who truly cares for me. Your brother must have seen something in me to bring me here, but beyond that, I do wish to meet you, my prince. Maybe next time, you could be faster and ask me to dance first.” 

A flicker of something—perhaps surprise or amusement—crossed Cyrus’s face. His cold green eyes softened slightly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. “You certainly have a way with words, Calista.” 

I smiled, hoping to defuse any lingering tension. “I only speak from the heart. I’m here to experience and to learn, and if that includes getting to know both you and your brother, then I’m open to it.” 

Cyrus studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not often that someone expresses their intentions so candidly. I suppose it’s refreshing in its own way.” 

The brief moment of shared understanding seemed to bridge the gap between us. Despite his usual reserved demeanour, Cyrus appeared to appreciate the honesty and directness I had offered. 

“I’ll keep your suggestion in mind,” Prince Cyrus said, his tone hard and final. It was clear that the conversation had reached its end, and I took it as my cue to leave. I bid him a polite farewell and made my way back through the palace, feeling a mix of emotions. 

In the following days, the atmosphere in the palace grew increasingly tense. Only five girls remained from the initial group, and each of us had been assigned to participate in various courses designed to test our skills and suitability. Each night was filled with grand balls, and tonight was no exception. 

I stood in the ballroom, surrounded by a sea of elegant gowns and glittering chandeliers. The air was thick with anticipation as guests mingled and the orchestra played a lively tune. Despite the festive atmosphere, I felt a pang of unease. I hadn’t seen Ezra in what felt like forever, and his absence was a notable void. 

As I scanned the room, I noticed a distinct emptiness where Ezra's throne usually was. I had grown accustomed to his reassuring presence, and his absence was keenly felt. The remaining girls, each vying for the prince’s attention, were not particularly kind or supportive. Their whispers and glances were sharp, and I felt the weight of their scrutiny. 

Prince Cyrus, dressed in his customary black, eventually stood and walked onto the dance floor. My heart skipped a beat when I realized he was making his way toward me. The realization came late, and I almost missed the opportunity to prepare myself. 

He approached with a measured stride, his expression inscrutable. “Calista,” he said, extending his hand. “May I have this dance?” 

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. His touch was firm and commanding, and I felt the strength in his grip through the layers of my heavy gown. We began to move in sync with the music, and as we danced, I could feel the eyes of the other girls on us. 

Prince Cyrus leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You dance well,” he murmured. “Though, of course, the competition is fierce. It’s interesting to see how some of you handle the pressure.” 

I tried to focus on the dance and not let his words unsettle me. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I said softly, attempting to maintain my composure. 

His whispers continued, each one laced with veiled criticism. “You have a certain grace, though it’s clear you are still learning the ways of the court,” he said, his voice carrying an edge. “It’s a challenging environment, and not everyone can adapt as quickly as others. May I suggest you spend some time in our library, learning about our past.” 

I felt a tightening in my chest as he spoke. His compliments, though seemingly kind on the surface, were undercut with reminders of my perceived inadequacies. The way he spoke made it clear that while he acknowledged my presence, he saw me as still falling short of the expectations of court life. 

Despite the sting of his words, I tried to focus on the positive aspects of our interaction. The dance itself was a reprieve from the tense atmosphere, and the closeness of our bodies in motion provided a rare moment of connection. 

As the music came to an end, Prince Cyrus guided me back to my seat beside him. The transition was smooth, but the weight of the moment felt heavy. The other girls—those remaining in the competition—shot me sharp, envious glances. I could feel their eyes on me, a mix of irritation and speculation. 

I took my seat, trying to steady my breathing. Despite the intimate dance and the seemingly special attention from Prince Cyrus, he remained silent, his gaze turned toward the dance floor or engaged in conversation with other guests. His aloofness was disheartening, especially after the whispered comments he had made during our dance. 

The silence between us was palpable, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done something wrong or if I was simply not meeting his expectations. The discomfort of being so close to him while receiving no further attention made me feel uneasy. I glanced at him occasionally, hoping for some sign of recognition or a hint of his thoughts, but he remained distant. 

Despite this, I tried to focus on the positive. The fact that I was sitting beside him, even if it felt uncomfortable and isolating, indicated that I was still in the running. Prince Cyrus’s silence was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant there was less chance of making a misstep in conversation. On the other, it left me wondering about his true feelings and whether my efforts were making any impact. 

The hours passed, and eventually, the event began to wind down. Prince Cyrus remained reserved, his interactions with me minimal but polite. As the guests began to depart, he offered a brief nod in my direction, a gesture that felt both formal and dismissive. 

I stood up, preparing to leave, and took one last look at the prince. Despite his earlier remarks and the chilly distance, I hoped that my persistence and adaptability would eventually be recognized but he did not once look at me again. 

In the solitude of my room, the grandeur of the palace felt like an empty shell. I missed the warmth of my family, the comfort of familiar surroundings, and, oddly enough, Ezra’s reassuring presence. The opulence of the palace, though dazzling, seemed hollow without the connections that truly mattered. 

The next morning, my maid who seemed to wake me every morning needed to be my ally for the day, hoping to learn more about Ezra. “Where is Prince Ezra?” I asked, trying to keep the concern out of my voice. 

She looked up from brushing my hair, her expression somber. “He is out on a mission for the King. It’s one of his frequent duties. The King relies heavily on him.” 

I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. I had hoped to see Ezra soon, to find some solace in familiar company. “Can you tell me more about Prince Cyrus, he seems slightly younger than Ezra, yet I hear he is crown prince?” I inquired, curious about the prince whose presence seemed to dominate the palace. 

The maid hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “Prince Cyrus is indeed the one who will inherit the throne, if he finds a wife." she began. “However, it’s known that he is not well-liked by the people. He’s very much like his father—stern, cold, and focused on maintaining power through conflict.” 

I listened intently, trying to piece together the dynamics of the royal family. “And Prince Ezra?” I prompted gently. 

“Ezra is the oldest son,” she continued, her voice softening. “He chose not to take on the role of crown prince. He believes he is not fit to rule, and his decision has caused quite a bit of tension. He’s more like his mother, who was kind and compassionate, ruled with her heart, but she passed away some years ago.” 

Her words painted a clearer picture of the complex relationships within the royal family. “So, Ezra does a lot of the King’s work?” 

“Yes,” the maid confirmed. “Ezra often handles tasks and missions that the King delegates, especially those that involve delicate or dangerous matters. The King values him for his skills and dedication, though it means Ezra often bears the brunt of the Kingdom’s more difficult affairs.” 

The maid’s explanation helped me understand the dynamics I had witnessed. Ezra’s absence now made more sense in the context of his role and responsibilities. It also shed light on the strained relationship between the princes and their father. 

“Is there anything else I should know about Prince Cyrus or the royal family?” I asked, seeking more insight into the world I was navigating. 

The maid glanced around to ensure no one else was listening, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Rumor has it that Prince Cyrus is hesitant to marry, or at least, he’s reluctant to make anyone his queen. There’s a lot of speculation about why.” 

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued. “Why is that?” 

She continued quietly, her eyes darting around to make sure we weren’t overheard. “There’s talk that Cyrus fears betrayal. His former lover only wanted to marry him to kill him. Since he ordered to kill her former husband. The incident left a mark on him, and he’s wary of trusting anyone who might have the ambition or opportunity to undermine him.” I felt a chill at the mention of such intrigue. “So, is that why he seems so distant and guarded?” 

The maid's eyes flickered with a hint of caution as she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s another version of the story that circulates among the servants and courtiers. Some say that Prince Cyrus’s former lover ran off with Prince Ezra.” 

I was taken aback. “Ran off with Ezra? What do you mean?” She nodded gravely. “Yes, it’s said that she shared a bed with him, no longer being pure, it would also explain why Ezra stepped down.”  

“Cyrus’s feelings toward Ezra are clouded by resentment and suspicion. Not only affected their personal relationship but has also created a rift within the royal family. Ezra, despite his own sense of duty and honour, bears the brunt of Cyrus’s distrust.” 

This new perspective on the relationship between Cyrus and Ezra deepened the intrigue surrounding the palace. It was evident that personal betrayals and rivalries had significant impacts on the dynamics within the royal family. 

"What if Cyrus doesn't marry? My maid looked at me and said. "If the King dies and the crown prince isn't married, the other gods in this realm will get a chance for the thrown via politics. And both Ezra and Cyrus will be killed."

“Thank you for sharing this,” I said, trying to process the gravity of what I had learned. 

That night, rest was elusive. The weight of the day's revelations and the uneasy atmosphere in the palace made sleep nearly impossible. Driven by a mix of curiosity and a need to clear my mind, I wandered through the castle’s quiet corridors, my footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors. 

I decided to do more research on the god and theor powers, learning only the god king and his childres posses the magic, the divine that gives them power to rule. When killed the power is giving to the one who killed, Marriage of the crown prince will secure the bloodline, Children can only be born from a mortal and a god...

After reading all the books I could, since the others were is foreign languages. I found myself hungry and drawn to the kitchen. The grand palace, despite its splendor, felt eerily empty at night. The only light came from the flickering lanterns, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. 

Approaching the kitchen, I heard the soft rustle of movement. When I peered inside, I was startled to see Prince Ezra standing by the pantry, his shirt off and his back to me. His movements were slow and cautious, and it was clear he was in pain. 

I hesitated for a moment, but then stepped inside. “Prince Ezra?” I called softly, not wanting to startle him. “What are you doing up?” 

He turned to face me, his expression a mixture of surprise and discomfort. His usually confidents were replaced with a look of weariness and distress. “Calista,” he said, his voice strained. “I didn’t expect to see anyone. Please just Ezra.” 

I noticed the fresh bandages wrapped around his ribs, but they were not sufficient for the injuries I could see. “You’re hurt,” I observed, taking a step closer. “Let me help.” 

Ezra seemed to hesitate, but then nodded, resigned. “Thank you.” He sat down on a nearby stool, and I fetched a first-aid kit from a cabinet. As I prepared the supplies, I couldn’t help but notice the freckles scattered across his chest, mirroring the ones on his face. The contrast between his rugged exterior and the vulnerability he displayed was striking. 

Carefully, I began to clean the wound on his ribs. Ezra winced slightly as I worked, but he remained still, his focus on the small plate of food he had taken from the pantry. The warmth of his skin against my fingers was unexpected, and I felt a flush of warmth spread through me, mixing with the concern I felt for his injuries. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” I said, trying to keep the conversation light despite the seriousness of the situation. “How did this happen?” 

Ezra sighed, looking away. “It’s nothing too serious. Just a skirmish with some troublemakers. It’s part of the job.” 

I nodded, concentrating on cleaning the wound and applying a fresh bandage. The silence between us was punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional clink of the utensils as I worked. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the vulnerability he displayed, created a strange but comforting connection. 

As I finished bandaging his wound, I looked up at Ezra, my hands lingering on his shoulders. “You should be more careful, Ezra. The palace needs you.” 

He met my gaze, his green eyes warm in the soft yellow light of the kitchen. A faint smile touched his lips. “Only the palace?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint something deeper. 

I felt a flutter of warmth spread through me at the way he looked at me. It was as if his eyes were trying to understand something more than just the immediate situation. My pulse quickened, and I felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. 

I handed him his shirt, but he didn’t immediately put it on. Instead, he took a step closer to me, closing the space between us. The proximity made my heart race, and I could feel the heat of his body, a contrast to the cool night air. 

I shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do. “You should—” I began, but my voice faltered as he stepped even closer. His presence was both comforting and overwhelming, and I felt a surge of emotions that I wasn’t entirely prepared for. 

Ezra’s gaze remained fixed on me, his expression serious but gentle. “Calista,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently touch my arm. The warmth of his touch made my heart race, and I felt a surge of emotions that were difficult to suppress. His eyes landed on my lips. 

I stepped forward, my hand instinctively finding its place on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my fingertips. His eyes held mine with an intensity that seemed to search for the right words.  

He swallowed, his voice steady, the atmosphere changed again. “You are exactly what my brother needs.” Confusion clouded my thoughts, and I blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “Only what your brother needs?” I asked feeling bold yet afraid to speak louder than a whisper.

I swore I saw Ezra's lips part while he ever so slow bended down towards me. His hand dropped to my side. My body leaned into him by lifting me on my toes.  

Ezra’s expression softened as he looked away, he looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I have to go. T-thank you for...” He pointed to his side before he pulled his shirt over his head and left in the dark hallway.  

Leaving me alone, in the kitchen.

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

What do you guys think? Good enough to continue?

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@jackles010378 @headinthemoon87

[northofallmusic]

fic I've posted since I was last on tumblr: a quick masterpost. remember to check the tags on ao3, since this is a super brief summary!

qi ye

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spring blossom (wenzhou, m, 1900 words) / A spring afternoon on the road; Wen Kexing explores the scars the nails have left. / early post-canon exploration of scars & intimacy.

contact point (wenzhou, e, 439 words) / Evidence of life under the snow; points of connection between bodies. / a shortly post extra 1 ficlet about. hand-holding. amongst other things

closer (wenzhou, e, 2300 words) / Wen Kexing invites Zhou Zishu to fuck him for the first time: an experiment with an unexpected kind of mixed results. / an exploration of zzs's relationship to his sexual preferences.

tian ya ke but genderbent

memory is what makes you older (fem wenzhou & past zhou zishu/liang jiuxiao, e, 5000 words) / A house on the edge of a rural village, in the middle of a late winter snowstorm; memories of an old relationship; the messy possibilities of a new connection. Or: Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu circle towards each other, despite the past. / modern au, also with related art by mt linked in endnotes!

the third passenger (fem wenzhou, e, 5000 words) / A year after the end of an illness, Wen Kexing takes care of Zhou Zishu's needa in a more pleasant way. A still-new life; a night train; to give yourself to another person. / a bit of modern au D/s.

[luthien-under-bough]

Daemyra Masterlist🖤🔥❤️

WIPs

i got a bad desire (baby i'm on fire) - rated E, chapters 17/?, ~102,000 words, modern westeros au, in which a one-night stand means Daemon might actually be Rhaenyra's father, dead dove: do not eat

the ghosts that we knew - rated T (for now), chapters 2/?, ~7330 words, modern au where Rhae (Rhaenyra Targaryen, but not THAT Rhaenyra) encounters the ghost of Daemon Targaryen on Dragonstone

we open our throats to sing - rated E, chapters 3/?, ~43,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, where Rhaenyra runs away to Volantis, and Daemon goes to find her

milk teeth - rated E, chapters 5/?, ~32,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, Daemyra early marriage, breastfeeding/lactation kink & character study on Rhaenyra's relationship with motherhood

augurs of spring - rated E, chapters 2/3, ~15,000 words, Old Valyria AU inspired by The Mists of Avalon

give me your ecstasy - rated E, chapters 4/?, ~18,000 words, modern AU with magic, Daemon returns from along deployment with a special gift for Rhaenyra

AUs

won't be satisfied 'til i'm under your skin - rated E, chapters 2/2, 25,367 words, modern AU, role reversal where Rhaenyra is Daemon's aunt

ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you - rated E, chapters 6/6, ~31k words, modern au, in which Daemon & Rhaenyra cheat on their respective spouses with one another (angst with a happy ending)

something borrowed - rated E, 6353 words, a prequel oneshot to 'ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you' that takes place on the day of Rhaenyra's wedding to Harwin Strong

better not touch (i want it too much) - rated E, chapters 7/7, ~31k words, modern westeros au, Rhaenyra comes to Dragonstone to stay with Daemon for the summer while her father is away on holiday

fledgling - rated E, 7900 words, King Daemon/Dark Daemon AU, where Daemon inspects Rhaenyra before her bedding ceremony

acquisition - rated E, 6700 words, modern corporate AU where Rhaenyra is CEO, and Daemon is her executive assistant - but outside of work Daemon is her Dom.

mama told me there'll be days like this - rated T, 5600 words, modern AU, Rhaenyra is determined to have a terrible time at her dad's wedding to Alicent, but she can't seem to stay in a foul mood when Uncle Daemon is around

Canon Divergences/Episode Fix-Its

for our blood is restless - rated M, ~1200 words, alt ep 4 where Daemon stays at the brothel

i found some hate for you, just for show - rated T, ~2400 words, alt ep 5 where Rhaenyra leaves the wedding feast with Daemon

down on my knees, with unquenchable thirst - rated E, ~5300 words, post-ep 4 canon divergence where Rhaenyra returns to the brothel

do you feel the hunger? - rated M, ~6400 words, alt ep 3 where Daemon joins the name day hunt

Character Studies

do you really feel alive without me - rated M, 3500 words, two-shot examining events of ep 6 from Daemon's and Rhaenyra's POV

viventes enim - rated M, ~1280 words, Daemon introspection/character study during the events of ep 6-7

the likes of a darkness so deep - rated M, ~3500 words, Major Character Death, Daemon introspection/character study during an alt ep10 where Rhaenyra dies in childbirth (cw: necrophilia)

Shameless Smut

penitent - rated E, ~3400 words, Dom!Daemon finds a new use for the small council orbs

squeeze and bind - rated E, 4625 words, Dom!Daemon ties up Rhaenyra after another small council meeting

kiss me hard before you go - rated E, ~2300 words, Divorced!Daemyra have some hate sex, modern AU

deep tissue - rated E, ~4,000 words, massage therapist Daemon, modern AU

stay wrecked and jealous for this - rated E, 4,315 words, Rhaenyra goes to the Westeros version of the Warped Tour and hooks up with band manager Daemon, modern AU

seven blessings - rated E, 3700 words, CNC roleplay with Rhaenyra dressed as a septa

when you move, i'm moved - rated E, 6600 words, modern AU pegging

Fluff & Humor

farsighted - rated M, 1200 words, modern AU, Daemon confronts the harsh reality of aging and needing glasses

Naked Attraction: The Lost Episode - Not Rated, ~4000 words, crackfic written as an episode transcript for a "lost episode" of the UK dating show Naked Attraction, where Rhaenyra is the contestant

Prompt Fills

>> Events

Summer of Dove Prompt Event - prompt fics written for Fire, Blood & Kink's dead dove event (summer 2023)

Hot[Daemyra] Summer Snippets & Stories - prompt fics written for the HotD Summer Snippets & Stories prompt event (july 2023)

>> Other

BYOM; or, Bring Your Own Mistletoe - rated E, 7725 words, no specific prompt, but a general holiday-themed fluff & smut fic to get me into the Christmas spirit, modern au

my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder - rated M, 1000 words, prompt: the song Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

best laid plans - rated G, 500 words, prompt: flight cancellation

your lips, my lips (apocalypse) - rated M, 500 words, prompt: holiday party hookup

meet me under the mistletoe - rated T, 500 words, prompt: bringing home a fake SO for the holidays + mistletoe

if the fates allow - rated T, 500 words, prompt: “Through the years we all will be together / if the fates allow”

Background Daemyra

like light refracted - rated E, 23,765 words, Daemyra x Aegon II ep8 canon divergence

the comforts of home - rated E, ~4300 words, Daemyra x Baelon (Daemon's father) threesome

nothing so undoing as a daughter - rated T, ~1200 words, Viserys POV after he learns of Daemyra's secret wedding

[poledancingdinos]

Heaven Knows Series Masterlist

Pairing: August Walker X Stripper!OFC

Total Length: 7900 words

General content warnings: Angst, Smut, P in V sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, various kinks and other warnings outlined in individual chapters

Summary: When August accompanies a mark to a strip club, he doesn't intend to do anything but advance his mission. That is, until one rebellious little minx catches his attention and becomes prey to the Devil.

Heaven Knows

It Was Never About That With You

Good Girls Get Rewarded

Hidden Desires

Inspiration Playlist

[ga-yuu]

So the 'Cheat code' that I promised! Part 1

I don't know if 'cheat code' is the best word for this...it's more like a loophole within the game system that I frequently use when playing event routes and collection events. Some of you might think I'm a genius but I feel like most of you are gonna be like 'that's it?' lol

Anyway...let me first list out the drawbacks of using these loopholes. Don't worry, you won't get banned...except you will be spending little resources compared to what you're spending now. Just pray that Cybird doesn't patch this. Also, this 'cheat' is specifically for Ikemen genjiden. IDK if this works for Ikemen prince. Try it out for yourself and tell me.

STORY EVENT LOOPHOLE:

DRAWBACKS:

I want you guys to go through the drawbacks before following my steps because, in the end, it's entirely your decision if you want to do this.

If you're specifically playing event stories to get avatar items at the end of each route, then don't do this, because you won't be getting them.

If you want to achieve the highest ranking and obtain ranking bonuses in story events, then also don't do this because you'll have to spend a lot to secure a place in the top 200s.

If you're playing especially for the epilogue...I'm sorry you'll only be able to buy one epilogue for the whole story event. (You will know that once I've explained everything)

Okay, so now that all drawbacks are clear, let me explain the loophole.

Let's take an example, imagine a story event is going on right now and it has three routes----Yoritomo, Yoshitsune, and Akihito.

To finish 1st story event route normally you need at least 7900 love points. This is more than enough to complete one route+premium ending only. These love points don't reset and will be carried over when you're playing the next route and you will have to get more of these love points, nearly 10k - 12k, to finish the 2nd route and even more for the third route. You at least need 32k love points to complete all three routes + only their premium endings. If you want to complete all three routes + both the premium and sweet endings of each route, then you'll need much more than that and by the time you achieve that many points, the event will be over.

What if I tell you that you can play all three routes + all 3 premium endings, and all 3 sweet endings with only 7900 love points? Sounds like I'm making it up...but it's not. Hear me out!

This is something I found out when I was playing an event one time and I had to turn off the whole app in the midst of playing to do something else. The only requirement here is to get 7900 points. If you're able to achieve at least 7900 points, then nothing is going to stop you.

See, when you play story events you get to choose which male lead's route you wanna play first. After selecting say, for example, you chose Yoritomo as your first route. But then you started having second thoughts and decided that you don't want to play Yoritomo first and changed to Yoshitsune route. This ability of 'freely changing the routes as you wish' in the midst of playing another route is basically what we're going to do.

Follow my steps:

First, select the route you wanna play first. Don't immediately start playing.

Collect at least 7900 love points by doing the 'Salon game' or whatever you wanna call it.

Once you have achieved 7900 love points, start playing the route. The reason why I'm telling you to start playing after getting 7900 points is that you won't get interrupted with these annoying intimacy missions when reading the story.

Select whichever ending you want, sweet or premium, it won't matter.

NOW LISTEN CAREFULLY!! Here's where you can mess up. So be careful. Once you have finished reading one of the endings, the game will show an 'ending screen' something like this:

DON'T CLICK PAST THIS ENDING SCREEN! Instead immediately close the app completely. You don't have to shut down your phone or anything. Just close the app. After that re-open it and go to the event page. You will see that the route you just completed is still left incomplete.

Now, go and change to the next male lead's route.

You'll see that you can start playing the next male lead's route from the beginning till the end without having to grind more love points.

Follow the same steps above for the second male lead's route and change to the third male lead's route and do the same for him as well. That way you have actually completed all the three event routes even though the game thinks that you still are in the first route.

The reason why this is possible is that, for example, you chose Yoritomo first, you followed my steps and closed the app and when you re-open it, the game will think that you've still not completed Yoritomo's route even though you already read and fully know Yoritomo's story. When you change the route immediately to another male lead's route, say, you changed to Yoshitsune's route, the game will inadvertently think that now Yoshitsune is your 'first event route' and like I said, to complete the 'first event route' you only need 7900 points. Do you get it now?

Now if you're wondering 'Oh! But I wanna play the sweet endings as well!" No problem, because see:

1st route + only premuim ending = 7900 love points, but,

1st route + only sweet ending requires somewhere around 5k - 6k points.

So when you change to the routes for which you have already played the premium end, you get to start from the very beginning and this time you can choose the sweet ending. Again, do not go past the 'ending screen' if you also want to read the other sweet endings.

This trick is actually very efficient for people:

Like me who wants to translate the story events as quickly as possible.

For F2P players.

And for those who don't care about the avatar or ranking bonuses and only care about the story.

That's the drawback. You won't be getting any avatar or ranking bonuses because those are based on the number of love points you achieve.

You guys: "So gayuu, what happens if we get past the ending screen? Is it a problem?"

There's no problem. If you get past the ending screen after finishing your first route, the game will automatically think that you have completed your first route and if you change the route now, you won't be able to complete the 2nd route using 7900 love points. Instead, you have to grind up more.

This cheat also leads to you not being able to claim the epilogue. For your information, the epilogues can only be accessed once the game thinks that you have officially completed a route. Here, we are tricking the game into thinking that we have not completed the route when in reality we already have. So if you want to buy the epilogue, you would have to go past the 'ending screen'.

Now for the collection event...I'll upload it later because..that requires some explaining to do

[bittybug-sunflower-blog]

Chapter summary: Seneca’s dating history

Warning A: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, gun and gang violence, and smoking

Word count: 7900

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 23

At the precinct, it was alive with the usual bustle—officers moving in and out, the hum of phones ringing, and the murmur of conversations that blended into a low, constant drone.

Crosshair walked through the front doors, his presence drawing little attention. He was disguised as an officer, the standard-issue uniform fitting him like a second skin, his cap pulled low over his eyes. He moved with a purpose, slipping through the sea of blue with practiced ease until he reached the back offices where the more delicate operations were managed.

Seneca was in there, leaning over a cluttered desk as she sifted through a pile of files. Jazzori stood beside her going over the scattered paperwork. Their eyes flicked up as Crosshair entered, narrowing slightly in recognition.

"We're moving forward with the plan," Crosshair said quietly, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry beyond the room.

Seneca straightened, her expression serious. "What's the plan?"

Crosshair's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Someone's going inside."

Seneca's gaze sharpened. "Inside? That's all you're giving me?"

"That's all you need to know, for now," Crosshair replied, his tone making it clear that there wouldn't be any more details forthcoming. He wasn't here to divulge the intricacies, just to set the wheels in motion.

"Get the legal side sorted," Seneca said, nodding toward Jazzori. "Witness protection, all the usual channels."

Jazzori nodded, she gathered some papers and walked out of the office in a quick haste. She was a picture of efficiency, her mind several steps ahead.

Crosshair watched her for a moment, then turned back to Seneca. "What's her story?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Seneca leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms as she considered how much to reveal. "Jazzori's a chairman's daughter. Her father was as corrupt as they come, but she distanced herself from that mess. Made a name for herself, graduated top of her class, and worked her way up to becoming the new DA. She's not one to be underestimated."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding back to Jazzori. "And can we trust her?"

Seneca didn't answer right away. Instead, she watched Jazzori as she meticulously worked on the paperwork, she watched her fingers moving swiftly over the forms as she began preparing the necessary documents. Finally, Seneca spoke, her voice measured. "I told her who she's going to be working with, and she didn't bat an eyelash."

Crosshair nodded slowly, considering Seneca's words. With that, Crosshair turned to leave. As he walked out of the precinct, the shadows of the night were waiting to swallow him up again. The plan was in motion, and now it was just a matter of time before things truly began.

Jazzori was absorbed in her work, the soft hum of her office's fluorescent lights a stark contrast to the tumult of her past. As she sifted through case files and legal briefs, her thoughts wandered back to the life that had shaped her into the woman she was today.

She remembered the silver spoon she was born, a life of privilege marred by the rot of corruption. Her father, Montych Dalear, was a figure of power and infamy, a man whose shadow loomed large over their opulent home. The mansion, with its crystal chandeliers and marble floors, was a façade hiding a darker reality. Behind closed doors, deals were made, and lives were destroyed, all in the name of politics, greed, and control.

"Please Mr. Dalear just a few more days. I can get money by tomorrow." Another one of his victims begged.

Jazzori would hear either grateful praise or desperate begs come from her father's study throughout her childhood. She had grown up amidst the opulence, expected to embrace a world she found repugnant. The extravagant parties, the endless parade of influential guests—everything about her life was a carefully crafted illusion. Yet, from a young age, Jazzori was acutely aware of the moral decay that pervaded her family's world. Her father's ruthless dealings and the pervasive corruption were a constant reminder of the hypocrisy she vowed to escape.

Amidst the chaos of her high school years, Jazzori faced a different kind of turmoil. Her life, already marred by her family's corruption, was further complicated by the relentless bullying she endured. Her peers were quick to taunt her with their harsh jabs.

"Well, if it isn't the chairman's daughter, here to make more bad dealings?" they would sneer, their voices dripping with disdain. The corruption surrounding her family was common knowledge, a dark cloud that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

The taunting was a constant backdrop to her days, an unrelenting reminder of the world she wished to escape. But one day, everything changed.  As Jazzori was cornered by a particularly aggressive group of bullies, she felt a surge of frustration. Her usual attempts to ignore them had failed, and she braced herself for yet another round of cruel remarks. But then, a loud voice cut through the noise.

"Hey, lay off!"

A rock sailed through the air, striking one of the bullies in the side of the head. The group turned in surprise, their hostility momentarily forgotten. There, standing with an air of defiance and confidence a young girl. She casually tossed another rock up and down, her stance radiating a bold spirit that caught everyone's attention.

"Who do you think you are?" one of the bullies demanded, glaring at the girl.

"My name is Seneca Mori," she replied with unwavering confidence. With a flick of her wrist, another rock flew through the air, hitting a second bully.

"Run!" One of the bullies ordered.

The bullies, now thoroughly intimidated, scattered like startled birds, leaving Jazzori and Seneca standing amidst the remnants of the confrontation. Seneca turned to Jazzori, her expression softening.

"You, okay?" Seneca asked, reaching out to help Jazzori to her feet.

"Yeah, thanks..." Jazzori replied, brushing herself off. "You knew?"

"Yes, ma'am," Seneca said with a grin.

Jazzori's eyes took in the young girl before her. Seneca's school uniform was neat, but there was something about her demeanor that spoke of a world different from the one Jazzori was not used to.

"You don't seem like the type to come to these types of schools," Jazzori said, trying to navigate the awkwardness of the moment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Seneca asked, her tone defensive but curious.

"I just mean..." Jazzori faltered, searching for the right words.

"That I'm not rich," Seneca finished for her, her gaze steady.

"Yeah... and you're different..." Jazzori said, her voice trailing off.

"Different can be good," Seneca replied with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and warmth.

In that instant, Jazzori saw something in Seneca that was both intriguing and comforting—a stark contrast to the world of wealth and corruption that had dominated her life. Their encounter marked the beginning of something more. The school year seems less harsh with Seneca by her side.

It was another late night in the school library, and Jazzori was buried in her textbooks, her mind struggling to focus on the assignments that seemed to consume every inch of her attention. The silence was interrupted by the sudden clanking of boots hitting the table, making her look up with a start.

"Seneca?" Jazzori asked, blinking in surprise.

"You done already?" Seneca's voice was light, almost teasing.

"No," Jazzori replied with a frown. "Shouldn't you be finishing up your own assignment?"

"Already done mine," Seneca said with a smirk. Jazzori sighed in frustration. "Come on, Dalear, you need a break."

"Maybe later, Seneca," Jazzori said, her eyes returning to her book. But the book was suddenly closed with a firm snap, and she looked up sharply at Seneca. "Seneca!"

"Shhh, come on," Seneca whispered, placing a finger over her lips and gesturing for Jazzori to follow her. They crept out of the now deserted school library and climbed several flights of stairs. They finally arrived at a large, heavy door. With a strong push, they entered the chilly night air.

Seneca rummaged in her bag and pulled out two glass bottles, handing one to Jazzori.

"Is this...?" Jazzori began, looking at the bottle with suspicion.

"Live a little, Dalear," Seneca urged, walking to the edge of a low stone wall and expertly knocking the cap off her own bottle.

"I don't drink beer," Jazzori said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Oh, sorry," Seneca teased. "I couldn't afford champagne."

"No!" Jazzori shook her head. "I don't drink at all."

"Like I said, live a little." Seneca's smirk widened.

Jazzori eyed the cold bottle warily but eventually mimicked Seneca, tapping the cap off against the ledge. She took a hesitant gulp and immediately grimaced.

"This is gross! Tastes like horse piss!" she exclaimed, scrunching her face in disgust.

Seneca burst into laughter, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Okay, I'll take it if you don't want it," she offered, reaching out for the bottle.

"No... I'll drink it," Jazzori sighed, resigned.

"Okay then." Seneca chuckled. The two of them sat on the ledge of the school's rooftop, their legs dangling as they gazed out over the city, illuminated by the vibrant neon lights.

"Been meaning to ask," Jazzori said after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence, "how did you even manage to get into this school?"

Seneca grinned mischievously. "I stole another girl's uniform and pretended to be her."

"You what?" Jazzori stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm kidding," Seneca said with a playful punch to Jazzori's arm. "I won a scholarship."

"Oh phew," Jazzori sighed in relief, her shoulders relaxing.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Seneca asked looking at her friend with concern.

"My father doesn't like me by myself. Only allowed at school or home alone. Anywhere else has to be with the bodyguards." Jazzori said looking at the bottle in her hand.

"Must be rough, under constant watch?" Seneca asked.

"Yeah, doesn't help your dad just sucks." Jazzori sighed bringing her knees to her chest and looking at the bright lights of the city.

"Well duh, all politics sucks." Seneca teased. Jazzori didn't respond. Seneca felt bad for her comment, she tried to change the subject, "You ever wanted to leave?" She asked.

"Leave?" Jazzori looked up.

"Yeah, leave Pantora, see what else is out there?" Seneca asked.

"Sometimes." Jazzori smiled.

At that moment, the two stared at into each other's eyes in silence. The city's hum and the distant flicker of lights add a sense of serenity to their shared space. Seneca's eyes softened as she looked at Jazzori, the soft glow of the city reflecting in her gaze.

Before Jazzori could say anything else, Seneca leaned in closer. There was a brief, charged silence between them. Jazzori's heart raced as their faces grew inches apart. Seneca's hand reached up to gently cup Jazzori's cheek. With a tender smile, she closed the gap and pressed her lips to Jazzori's. The kiss was soft at first, filled with the hesitant sweetness of youthful affection. When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their eyes locked in a mixture of surprise and newfound understanding. Jazzori's cheeks flushed with a blend of embarrassment and exhilaration, while Seneca's expression was a mix of relief and satisfaction.

"Well," Seneca said softly, breaking the silence, "that's something we'll definitely remember."

Jazzori nodded, her heart fluttering with the warmth of the shared moment. "Yeah," she said quietly, "definitely something we'll remember."

As they continued to sit there, the city lights glittering around them, they both knew that their lives had been forever changed by this fleeting but intense connection. In that moment it felt like all the problems Jazzori had been consumed by were gone by just that kiss. For the rest of their school years, their romance was a burst of youthful exuberance, a passionate affair that felt like a beacon of hope in Jazzori's dark world.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. As their high school graduation approached, the paths of Jazzori and Seneca were set on diverging trajectories. Seneca had been accepted into the police academy in Kiros, an opportunity she had fought hard to secure, while Jazzori was preparing to start at a local university, her ambitions aimed at a future in law and justice. Despite their shared dreams and intense connection, the reality of their circumstances began to strain their relationship. One evening, as they sat in their favorite spot on the roof of their school, the weight of unspoken tensions seemed to hang in the air. Seneca stared out in the large city, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her jacket.

"Seneca, we need to talk," Jazzori began, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

Seneca's eyes were shadowed with frustration and weariness. "I know, Jazzori. I've been feeling it too."

"I don't understand," Jazzori said, her voice cracking. "We've been through so much together. Why do you just want to leave?"

"It's not that simple," Seneca shot back, her frustration palpable. "You're about to embark on a journey toward justice, and I'm about to dive into a world of corruption and danger. Our lives are going in different directions!"

"I thought we could make it work," Jazzori pleaded, tears welling up. "I thought we could find a way to bridge our worlds."

Seneca's eyes hardened. "You have your path, and I have mine. It's not fair to either of us to keep pretending otherwise."

"You don't get it!" Jazzori shouted, her voice rising. "I don't want to lose you. I want us to fight through this together!"

"Fight through what?" Seneca retorted, her own voice now a harsh edge. "You think I don't want to stay? I can't stay in Pandora with this constant pressure and your family's shadow hanging over us!"

Jazzori's face flushed with hurt. "So, you're just going to walk away? Leave me here, alone, to deal with all of this?"

Seneca's eyes were wet with tears. "I'm not walking away because I don't care. I'm walking away because I do. I want you to succeed, to be happy. Can't you be happy with my choices?"

Jazzori's heart felt like it was cracking under the weight of Seneca's words. "Honestly, it feels like a selfish decision."

Seneca's expression turned angry but softened, though her resolve remained firm. "We're just too different. Your future is in Pandora, fighting the battles you believe in. Mine is somewhere else, and it's not fair to any of us to try to make something work when we both know deep inside, we'll both be miserable trying."

"Is there someone else?" Jazzori asked her eyes blazing with anger.

"What?! No. You know there isn't anyone." Seneca frowned a bit offended.

"I just don't understand why we can't try." Jazzori sniffed.

"You do, you just don't want to understand." Seneca tried to take Jazzori's hand who quickly moved her hand away.

The argument reached its peak, leaving both of them emotionally drained. The finality of Seneca's words hung heavily in the air. They stood in silence for a moment, the reality of their impending separation settling over them like a shroud.

"Is this really how it ends?" Jazzori whispered, her voice trembling.

Seneca nodded, her tears mixing with her resolve. "I'm sorry, Jazzori. I love you. But it's what's best for both of us."

"So, you're just going to walk away?" Jazzori's heart shattered as she struggled to accept the finality.

Seneca didn't answer but walked to the door, she looked back one last time, her expression a mixture of sadness and determination. "Goodbye, Jazzori."

Jazzori stood by herself holding her sides as tears fell continuously down her cheek.

Years later, as Jazzori, who is now a top-notch lawyer, was deeply immersed in her work, a letter arrived that took her by surprise. The familiar handwriting was unmistakable. Seneca's name was scrawled across the envelope, even more surprisingly it came from Coruscant. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, Jazzori opened it and began to read.

Dear Jazzori,

I hope this letter finds you well. It's been a long time since we last spoke. I saw one of the cases you defended in the newspaper and thought I write you. Life has taken me on a journey I could never have anticipated. I am now a police officer. I've also found love again and am expecting my first son with my wonderful wife.

I wanted you to know that I'm happy and fulfilled in this new chapter of my life. I think of our time together fondly, and I hope you do too. I wanted you to hear this from me. I hope you are happy and able to create your own happiness.

I wish you all the best in your endeavors. You've always been incredibly strong and determined, and I have no doubt that you will continue to make a significant impact in the world.

Take care, Jazzori.

Sincerely,

Seneca Mori.

As Jazzori read the letter, tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away with a determined resolve, knowing that there was no time for dwelling on the past. She had cases to work on, battles to fight, and a future to build. The letter was a bittersweet reminder of what needed to be said. With a deep breath, Jazzori tossed the letter into her trashcan and refocused on her work.

The clock now struck a little past midnight by now, Jazzori pulled herself from her thoughts and looked at her desk. She gathered her things and began making her way to Seneca's office.

"I'm clocking out Seneca, I'll go over the documents in the morning with you and the others. Have them set a meeting somewhere." Jazzori said.

Seneca looked up from her files and nodded, "Alright, thanks Jazzori. Have a good night."

Jazzori nodded and headed out of the precinct.

Seneca sat at her cluttered desk in her dimly lit office, the steady hum of fluorescent lights overhead casting a sterile glow. Her eyes fell upon a small, framed photograph resting on the corner of her desk.

The picture of her wife and two young sons, their faces lit with radiant smiles. They were captured in a moment of pure joy. Her wife's arms were wrapped around their boys, her face glowing with happiness. Seneca's gaze lingered on the photograph, her heart aching with a mix of pride and longing. The image was a beacon of warmth and love, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh realities she faced daily as a police detective. It was a reminder of the life she had built away from the dangerous world she navigated. Her fingers traced the edge of the frame as if trying to reach through the glass and hold her family close.

She often looked at the phone on her desk, the thought about calling them to just hear their voices. But the temptation was always overshadowed by a lingering fear. The last thing she wanted was for her wife to worry about the risks she faced every day. Biala believed that Seneca was cheating, though unfounded, was a painful thought, but necessary. It's better than knowing the criminals she decided to work with to help stop bigger threats.

Seneca thought back to the day she first met Biala, a day that had changed the course of her life in ways she never could have anticipated. She was just a young rookie officer in the city of Kiros, Seneca had always prided herself on her ability to handle danger, to face down the worst of the world with unflinching resolve. But on that fateful day, everything changed in an instant.

A routine patrol had turned into a violent confrontation. Shots rang out, and before she knew it, a bullet had found its mark. Seneca crumpled to the ground, her vision blurring as pain radiated through her body.

The world around her began to fade—the shouts of people, the sound of feet pounding the pavement, and then, amidst the chaos, there was a scent, something sweet and earthy that filled her senses. She looked up, and for a brief second, she saw her—Biala—but only for an instant. As Seneca slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing she remembered was the faint memory of a warm hand pressing against her cheek and a voice, soft and urgent, speaking words she couldn't quite grasp.

"Hang on, you're going to be okay," the voice had whispered, but Seneca was already slipping away.

Days passed, and Seneca remained in a coma, her mind trapped in a deep, dreamless sleep. The hospital room was sterile and cold, the beeping of machines the only sign that life still clung to the injured officer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Seneca stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and with great effort, she opened her eyes. The world came into focus slowly, and she found herself in a stark, white room, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. The first thing she noticed was the silence, a heavy, oppressive quiet that filled the space. She tried to move, but her body protested with a sharp pain that made her wince.

"Where...?" Seneca managed to croak out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Officer Mori, you're awake," the doctor said, stepping closer with a relieved smile.

"What...?" Seneca tried to ask more, confusion clouding her thoughts. As she attempted to sit up, the doctor gently placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back down.

"You were shot. You're in the hospital. Try to relax," the doctor said calmly, his voice soothing.

The door to her room creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside, carrying a bouquet of vibrant flowers, their colors a stark contrast to the sterile white of the hospital room. Seneca looked over, curiosity piqued. The woman smiled, her eyes warm and kind.

"Hello, Officer Mori," the young woman said softly, her voice like a balm to Seneca's tired soul.

Seneca's eyes widened in recognition. "You..."

"I'll let you rest," the doctor interjected, sensing the moment. He excused himself quietly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

The young woman watched him leave, then turned back to Seneca, her gaze warm and steady.

"Who...?" Seneca asked, her voice still weak.

"I'm Biala Quif. My father owns a shop near where you were hurt. I... I was there when it happened," Biala explained, her tone gentle, as if she were speaking to a fragile thing.

Seneca's heart skipped a beat as a flicker of recognition passed through her. She remembered that voice, the one she'd heard just before everything went black. "You... you helped me?"

Biala nodded, setting the flowers down on the bedside table. "I did what I could until the medics arrived. I couldn't just leave you there."

A wave of gratitude washed over Seneca, and she managed a small smile. "Thank you. I don't know what to say."

Biala shrugged, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Anyone would have done the same. I'm just glad you're okay."

As the days turned into weeks, Biala continued to visit Seneca, always bringing flowers or a small gift to brighten her room. Their conversations started off awkward, each of them unsure of what to say, but soon, they grew comfortable, sharing stories and laughing over small things. Biala's presence became something Seneca looked forward to, a light in the long, tedious hours of recovery.

"You know," Seneca said one day, glancing over at Biala as she arranged yet another bouquet in the vase by her bed. "I've been thinking... once I'm out of here, maybe I can take you somewhere. You know as a thank you for saving me. If you're interested, I mean."

Biala looked up, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd like that, Seneca. I'd like that a lot."

The day Seneca was discharged from the hospital, Biala was there, helping her get settled back into her life, offering assistance in any way she could. What began as a friendship quickly deepened into something more. They spent more time together, going out for coffee, taking walks in the park, and enjoying each other's company.

One evening, as they stood on the balcony of Seneca's apartment, looking out over the city, Seneca turned to Biala, her heart pounding in her chest. "Biala, I... I've never been good at this sort of thing, but I want you to know that I care about you. A lot."

Biala smiled, her eyes shining with affection. "I care about you too, Seneca. More than you know."

The distance between them closed, and in the soft light of the setting sun, their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise, a beginning of something neither of them had expected but both had hoped for.

Their relationship blossomed like a garden in spring, each moment spent together deepening the roots of their love. Seneca found in Biala a love that was unlike anything she had ever known, something she didn't feel when she was with Jazzori. Every smile, every shared glance, every whispered word brought them closer, weaving their lives together in a way that felt natural, inevitable.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony of Seneca's apartment, the city lights twinkling below like stars fallen to earth, Seneca turned to Biala, her heart pounding in her chest. "Biala," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I've never been good at this sort of thing, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. I... I can't imagine my life without you. I have something I want to ask."

Biala looked at her, her eyes shining with affection and something deeper—something that made Seneca's breath catch in her throat. "Go on," Biala replied, reaching out to take her hand.

"I like for us to be more for you to be my girlfriend." Seneca's nerves made it sound more like telling than asking.

"No," Biala responded simply. Seneca's eyes widen her heart about to sink, "I'm messing with you, of course, I love to be your girlfriend."

Seneca laughed with Biala joining in. The distance between them seemed to vanish, and in the soft glow of the city lights, their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss.

A few years have passed by now, one evening, under the soft glow of the city lights, Seneca and Biala sat on the balcony of their apartment, enjoying a quiet moment together. Seneca's heart raced with anticipation, but she knew it was time. She had thought about this moment endlessly, and now, she wanted nothing more than to make it a reality.

"Biala," Seneca began, her voice slightly trembling, "there's something I've been wanting to say... something I've been thinking about for a while now."

Biala turned to her, curiosity and warmth in her eyes. "What is it, Seneca?"

Seneca took a deep breath, her hands gently clasping Biala's. "You know how much you mean to me, right? How every day with you has been better than the last? I never imagined I could be this happy, or that I could find someone who completes me the way you do."

Biala's expression softened, her smile growing as she listened to Seneca's heartfelt words. "Yes?" She raised an eyebrow waiting to see what she'll say next.

Seneca's heart swelled with emotion, she tried to push down her nervousness. "I've thought a lot about our future—about the life we've started building together. And I know, with all my heart, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Biala's breath caught in her throat as she realized where this was going, her eyes widening with surprise and anticipation. Seneca gently got on one knee, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small, velvet box. She opened it to reveal a simple, elegant ring that shimmered in the dim light. "Biala Quif," Seneca said, her voice full of love and determination, "will you marry me? Will you be my partner, my wife?"

Biala's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the ring, then back at Seneca. Her smile was radiant, her voice shaking with emotion as she whispered, "Yes."

Seneca let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, a wide grin spreading across her face. She slipped the ring onto Biala's finger, stood up, and kissed the woman who was a light in the dark world she fought. They embraced, holding each other tightly, the world around them fading into the background.

Not long after, their wedding day arrived, sealing their love with vows of forever. The ceremony was small and intimate, attended only by their closest friends and family. Seneca stood at the end of the altar, dressed in a tailored suit, her heart swelling with anticipation. As she gazed ahead, her eyes were fixed on Biala, who was making her way down the aisle. Biala wore a gown fit for a princess, her arm linked with her father's as they walked together toward the altar. The sight of Biala, radiant and poised, took Seneca's breath away, marking the beginning of their lifelong journey together.

The officiant's voice rang out, clear and resonant in the intimate setting. "Do you, Seneca Mori, take Biala Quif as your lawfully wedded wife?"

With a look of pure adoration, Seneca responded, her voice filled with heartfelt emotion. "Hell yeah." Her words were met with a ripple of laughter and fond chuckles from the audience, and Biala's eyes sparkled with joy as she let out a soft, delighted giggle.

The officiant then turned to Biala, asking gently, "And do you, Biala Quif, take Seneca Mori as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Biala replied, her smile radiant and full of love as she gazed deeply into Seneca's eyes.

The officiant smiled warmly and continued, "If there are no objections, you may now exchange the rings." As they exchanged rings, their hands trembled slightly with the weight of their emotions. The simple act of sliding the rings onto each other's fingers felt monumental—a promise of forever. Seneca's heart swelled with the certainty that this was the beginning of something profoundly beautiful. She looked at Biala, feeling as though she was standing at the threshold of a new life, one shared with the person who completed her in every way. The officiant's voice broke the tender moment, full of joy and finality. "I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss!"

Seneca took Biala into her arms and dipped her gently, sealing their vows with a passionate kiss. It was a kiss that seemed to set off a cascade of fireworks in their hearts, bursting with joy and love. The room erupted into applause, cheers, and whistles, each sounds a testament to the celebration of their union.

As they pulled away, their faces flushed with happiness, they shared a moment of unspoken understanding, knowing that this was just the beginning of a lifetime together.

A year after their wedding, Seneca and Biala made the decision to start a family. When Seneca found out she was pregnant through a sperm donor, the joy they shared was indescribable. The months passed in a whirlwind of preparations, each moment filled with excitement as they imagined the little life that was soon to join them.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, Seneca gently placed Biala's hand on her growing belly. "Feel that?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe. "He's moving."

Biala's eyes widened with wonder, her hand pressing slightly as she felt the flutter of tiny kicks beneath her palm. "He's really in there," Biala whispered, her voice filled with amazement. "Our little Isaac."

"He's going to be perfect," Seneca said softly, her eyes shining with love. "Just like his mom."

Biala looked at Seneca, her heart swelling with emotion. "And just like you. Strong and brave."

The night Isaac was born, their world shifted in the most beautiful way. As Seneca held her son for the first time. His cries pierced the night, but Seneca and Biala didn't care. "Hello Isaac," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Biala leaned in, wrapping her arms around both of them, tears of joy streaming down her face. "He's perfect, Seneca."

"I love you," Seneca whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I love him more than I ever thought possible."

"I love you both." Biala smiled hugging her wife and gently stroked their son's cheek.

"Welcome to the world Isaac," Seneca whispered, her happy tears falling down her cheeks as she kissed his little forehead.

Their little family continued to grow, and just a year later, Biala decided to become pregnant with their second child. The news was met with the same joy and excitement, though this time, they were joined by a curious and excited Isaac, who loved to rest his head on Biala's belly and talk to his soon-to-be sibling.

"You feel that, Isaac?" Biala asked as Isaac rested his head on his mother's stomach.

Isaac was only one, but he smiled as he felt the small kicks. Biala smiled warmly.

One evening, as they sat on their bed, Isaac nestled between them, and Seneca placed a gentle hand on Biala's stomach. "What do you think, Isaac? Are you ready to be a big brother?" she asked with a smile.

Isaac looked eagerly, his eyes wide with excitement.

Biala laughed softly, placing a kiss on Isaac's forehead. "And I know you'll be the best big brother ever," she said, her voice filled with warmth. She then turned to Seneca, her eyes filled with love.

The months passed, and their love only deepened as they prepared to welcome their second child. When Lon was finally born, their hearts swelled with even more love. As Seneca cradled their newest son, she looked over at Biala, who was holding Isaac in her arms.

"Hello Lon," Seneca whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She turned and placed Lon in Biala's arms. Isaac stared curiously at the young baby.

Biala chuckled, her eyes glistening with tears. "Say hello to Lon, Isaac."

Isaac just rested his small head on his mother's arm as stared with content. Seneca stared at all three, this was all she ever wanted in her life. Their days were filled with the joyful chaos of parenthood, the laughter of their two sons, and the unbreakable bond that had grown between them.

A few years had passed since their wedding, and Seneca returned home after a long, grueling day dealing with crooks. She hung her coat and hat on the rack by the door, her usual fatigue melting away as she heard the familiar, joyful sound of her two boys racing toward her.

"Mom!" Isaac and Lon yelled in unison.

Seneca dropped to one knee, her arms wide open to embrace them. "Hey, you two," she greeted, her voice brimming with happiness as she squeezed them tightly.

"How was work?" Lon asked, peering up at her with eager eyes.

"Did you beat up some bad guys?" Isaac inquired, bouncing on his heels.

Before Seneca could answer, Biala appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. "Let mom breathe first," she laughed, shaking her head affectionately.

"You two, go wash up for dinner," Seneca instructed, her eyes crinkling in a smile as she stood up.

"Okay, mom!" the boys chorused, rushing off to the bathroom.

Seneca walked over to Biala and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The moment was tender, their connection evident in every touch and glance. As they pulled away, Biala looked up at her with curiosity.

"So, how was work?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern.

Seneca sighed deeply, the weight of the day still lingering. "Same as always, rough. But there's some big news—I've been made detective," she said casually, trying to mask her own apprehension.

Biala's eyes widened with happiness. "Really?" she asked, her voice filled with pride and excitement.

"Yeah, but there's more," Seneca continued, her expression becoming serious. "I've also been offered a position in Coruscant."

"Coruscant?" Biala echoed, her eyebrows knitting together. "That's another state away."

"I know," Seneca said, her voice heavy with the weight of the decision. "It's a big move."

Biala's eyes met Seneca's with understanding. "I know that look," she said softly, a hint of concern in her voice. "You're thinking of taking it."

"And I know you don't want to leave Kiros," Seneca replied, reaching out to gently touch Biala's arm. "Your family is here, your life is here."

Biala looked away for a moment, deep in thought. "It's not just about leaving Kiros," she finally said, turning back to face Seneca. "It's about the impact it will have on us—on the boys, on everything we've built here."

Seneca nodded, her eyes full of empathy. "I understand. It's a huge decision, and it's going to change everything."

Biala took a deep breath, her resolve firming. "But if this is something you want, something that could be important for your career and us, I will support you wherever we go."

Seneca's heart swelled with gratitude, she kissed Biala warmly. "Thank you for being so understanding. I want us to make this decision together. If we decide to go, we'll do it as a family."

Biala smiled, her eyes meeting Seneca's with unwavering support. "I'm in this with you."

The discussion that followed was thorough and heartfelt, filled with both excitement and trepidation. They weighed the pros and cons, considered their future, and ultimately decided to accept the offer. They knew it would be a challenging transition, but their commitment to each other and their family made the decision clear.

Sometime later, Seneca stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her tie with meticulous care. The sun was just beginning to rise over Coruscant, casting a warm glow across the skyline. Today was her first day as a detective in the Coruscant Police Department, a role she had worked tirelessly to achieve. But as much as she had dreamed of this moment, it was bittersweet.

In the reflection, she saw Biala standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, a small, anxious smile playing on her lips. "You look sharp," Biala said, trying to sound upbeat, but Seneca could hear the worry in her voice.

"Thanks," Seneca replied, turning to face her. She walked over and took Biala's hands in her own, squeezing them gently. "I know this move wasn't easy for any of us."

Biala sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It's just...Coruscant is so different from Kiros. The boys are still getting used to the new school, and I'm still trying to figure out where everything is. But I know this is a big opportunity for you, and I'm proud of you, Seneca. I really am."

"I couldn't have done any of this without you," Seneca said softly, her thumb brushing over Biala's wedding ring. "We're in this together."

Biala smiled, her eyes softening as she leaned in to kiss Seneca gently. "Always."

Just then, the sound of little feet pattering down the hallway interrupted the moment. Isaac and Lon burst into the room, both still in their pajamas.

"Mommy!" Isaac exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

"Are you gonna catch the bad guys today?" Lon asked, his voice full of excitement.

Seneca crouched down to their level, ruffling Isaac's hair and smiling at Lon. "That's the plan, kiddo. But remember, it's not just about catching bad guys. It's about helping people, too."

"We know," Isaac said seriously, nodding his head, "Always help those in need."

Seneca's heart swelled with love for her family. "And that's why I do this. For you guys."

Biala knelt beside them, wrapping an arm around both boys. "We're going to be just fine here, right? We've got each other, and that's what matters."

"Right!" the boys chorused, their spirits lifted by their mother's confidence.

Seneca kissed each of her sons on the forehead and stood, pulling Biala into a tight embrace. "I'll be home for dinner," she promised. With one last look at her family, Seneca headed out the door.

The Coruscant Police Department was a sprawling complex, bustling with activity as officers and detectives went about their duties. Seneca took a deep breath as she entered the building, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.

"Detective Mori?" A voice called out, pulling her attention to a tall man with a distinctive appearance. He was bald with a lined face that spoke of years of experience, and his presence commanded respect. "I'm Sergeant Ki-Adi Mundi. Welcome to Coruscant."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Seneca replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"I've heard good things about you," Mundi said, leading her down a corridor. "Your record is impressive. But Coruscant is a different beast. You'll find that things work a bit differently here."

"I'm ready for the challenge," Seneca assured him, her voice steady.

"Good to hear," Mundi said with a nod. "You'll be partnered with Detective Rebekath Hardt. She's one of our best—sharp, experienced, and she knows this city inside out."

They stopped outside an office, and Mundi gestured for Seneca to enter. Inside, a woman was leaning over a desk, examining a case file with intense focus. She had short, dark hair and an air of confidence that was immediately apparent.

"Hardt," Mundi called out, and the woman looked up, a warm smile breaking across her face as she stood to greet them.

"You must be Seneca," Beka said, extending her hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Likewise," Seneca replied, shaking her hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope," Beka quipped, her smile turning into a grin. "Come on, I'll show you around, and get you settled in."

As they walked through the precinct, Beka filled Seneca in on the current cases and the ins and outs of the department. It didn't take long for the two women to find common ground. By the end of the day, they had already established a camaraderie.

One evening, Seneca invited Beka over for dinner. It was a chance for their families to meet and for Seneca to show Beka a bit more of her life outside the precinct.

Biala greeted Beka with a warm smile when she arrived, welcoming her into their home. The boys were thrilled to meet someone new, especially someone who worked with their mom.

"So, you're the one keeping their mommy safe, huh?" Isaac asked, his tone serious, though his eyes were full of curiosity.

"Something like that," Beka replied with a laugh, ruffling his hair. "But your mom can handle herself pretty well, too."

The evening was filled with laughter and stories, the easy rapport between Seneca and Beka evident as they shared tales from their past. Biala quickly took to Beka, appreciating her straightforward nature and the obvious care she had for Seneca.

As the night wound down, and Beka prepared to leave, Seneca walked her to the door. "Thanks for coming over. I think the boys have already decided you're their new favorite person."

"They're great kids," Beka said, smiling. "You've got a beautiful family, Mori. I look forward to many more cases together."

"Me too," Seneca replied, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't expected. "See you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," Beka confirmed with a nod before heading out.

As Seneca closed the door, she turned back to her family, who were still lingering in the living room. Biala met her gaze, her eyes soft with understanding.

"Looks like you've got a good partner," Biala said quietly, moving to stand beside her.

"Yeah," Seneca agreed, wrapping an arm around her wife's shoulders. "I think we're going to be just fine here."

Seneca remembered the night Biala, and the boys left. The tension in the house was palpable as Biala and Seneca stood in their cluttered living room, their voices raised in a heated argument. The normally warm atmosphere of their home felt colder than ever.

"Seneca, this isn't just about the late nights," Biala snapped, her eyes flashing with frustration. "It's about you constantly being away, and now I've seen you with her—Jazzori! At the police station! What's going on?"

Seneca's face turned pale. "Jazzori? Biala, I swear, there's nothing between us, she's the new DA. I was just working on the case. Beka's case got complicated, and I had to deal with it."

"Complicated?" Biala's voice was filled with disbelief. "How many late nights do you need to 'work on cases' before it's clear you're not coming home for us? And now, you're ex is back, make it make sense!"

"I'm telling you it's not what you think!" Seneca tried to explain, her voice strained. "Jazzori's just a part of the investigation. There's no cheating involved. You have to believe me."

Biala's eyes filled with hurt and anger. "Believe you? After all these late nights and excuses? I can't just ignore what I've seen." She turned abruptly, her voice rising. "Isaac! Lon! Pack your things. We're going back to Kiros."

Seneca's heart sank as she watched Biala's face, the lines of anger and pain etched deeply. "Biala, please, don't do this. Let me explain. Finding Beka is important, and I'm not cheating on you. I'm just—"

"I know she's your former partner, but I'm your wife! No," Biala cut her off sharply, her tone final. "I've had enough. We're leaving."

With that, Biala grabbed the boys, who looked up at Seneca with confused, sad eyes. They quickly packed their belongings, the sound of their small feet and hurried movement echoing through the house. The boys looked between their two moms before rushing to the car. Biala grabbed a bag that looked like it had been packed for a while.

Seneca didn't even have time to ask about it. Biala got in the car slamming the door and wiping tears from her eyes. As Biala and the boys drove away, Seneca stood alone in the doorway, feeling the weight of their departure crush her. Once they were gone, she punched the door, she trudged back inside, slamming the door behind her, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

[theoneandonlysemla]

I just finished a 7900 words chapter for DwD II. There's Teldryn-smut in it and I love it.

Anyway, now I'm free to write a new chapter of A Taste of Death!

[ao3feed-itafushi]

Hand In Glove

by tweakystevie Itadori blinked up at him, and Megumi could have sworn that something shimmered in his eyes. “You mourned me?” There was a small part inside of him that reminded him that normal best friends didn’t do things like this. They were too close; they were bearing their souls to each other. He extinguished the voice in the meantime. He could die happily like this, like he could achieve all that ‘proper death’ crap that Itadori spoke about. Maybe this was what that really amounted to after all. Holding onto someone you loved to remind yourself that the world wasn’t falling apart around you anymore. Oh. Megumi was in love with Yuji Itadori. ─── ⋆⋅☾ ☀︎ ☽⋅⋆ ─── Snapshots of Megumi's love for Yuji through their lives together. Words: 7900, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Kugisaki Nobara/Zenin Maki, Fushiguro Megumi & Itadori Yuuji & Kugisaki Nobara, Fushiguro Megumi & Gojo Satoru Additional Tags: Pining Fushiguro Megumi, Oblivious Fushiguro Megumi, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Itadori Yuuji is a Ray of Sunshine, Fushiguro Megumi is Bad at Feelings, Protective Fushiguro Megumi, Introspection, Snapshots, Blood and Injury, Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fluff, itafushikugi sleepovers, Not Canon Compliant from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/7zB9Eux