#and then i got to the third time fighting him + the flashback and like. hear me out ok

[aibafiles]

i have begun to suspect that the question is not "where is zagreus" but rather "when is zagreus"

[ineedhaikyu]

Chapter One

Summary: How does Asahi find himself in these situations? He wasn’t the tough and scary guy everyone made him out to be. Why can’t someone just give him a chance? That’s what he thought until he met her…

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: So much FLUFF! Dealing with self-doubt and anxiety. I didn’t write Atsumu’s slang dialogue but maybe I’ll edit in the future.

A/N: My contribution to Asahi x Reader content. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEST BOY!! GIF credit to @akaashikoutarou

~

Today is the day. January 5th. Everyone’s hard work and determination will be put to the test on this day. A day where volleyball teams from all over Japan, the best from each prefecture, will meet with one another and have a chance to battle on the orange court. 

Today marks Day One in the All Japan High School Volleyball Championship. Otherwise known as the Spring Tournament.

The victor of each battle will be one step closer to reaching the summit, a place that is only reserved for one winning team. 

But until then, each team must go through the wringer and the emotional ties that come when playing the best of the best. Not only are the team members fighting for themselves to place a respectable standing in the tournament, they are also carrying the weight of their school’s pride and honor on their shoulders. The pressure that the Spring Tournament has always been great, but it’s even greater for those teams who are participating for the first time.

Teams such as the Karasuno High School Volleyball team.

A twelve member volleyball team from the Miyagi prefecture. For the past few years, Karasuno has fallen from their powerhouse status, but it seems that has all changed. Because now, here they are competing in the Spring Tournament for the first time in years.

Their methods of offense and defense were amazing to watch. It was almost too beautiful to describe but then again the concept is all the same: just keep the ball in play. 

“(Y/N)-san!” 

The third-year manager tore her gaze away from the orange court to meet with the familiar brown eyes of Miya Atsumu, the second-year setter of their volleyball team. 

“Hey Atsumu.” She greeted the popular setter with a smile before scanning the area around them. “Where’s Osamu?”

“That scrub is probably stuffing his face.” He huffed as he stood next to her. His eyes peered down at the active court. “What are you even doing here?”

(Y/N) followed his gaze and smiled. “Just want to check out the competition. I’m curious as to who our next opponent will be.”

“Who’s playing?”

“Tsubakihara Academy and Karasuno High.”

Atsumu furrowed his brow at the mention of the latter school. He’s sure that Goody-Two Shoes setter came from there. 

“Are they any good?”

He waited for her answer but when he didn’t receive one, the twin looked at her. Usually the older girl always had an answer for his questions, however silly the questions were. It was something Atsumu liked about (Y/N). No matter what silly antics he, his twin, and the rest of the volleyball team partook in, (Y/N) was always there to keep them in check. It was something Aran and Kita, her best friends, valued her for and the coach couldn’t agree more. 

Of course, there were times she played along with their shenanigans. It was why she got along so well with everyone on the team. As a manager, the girl knew there were times to be serious but also to just enjoy the moments with the best team she ever had. Even the annoying moments of Suna and the Miya twins prying into her non-existent love life. Take the conversation she had with them from last week.

Flashback

“You rejected another guy, (Y/N)-senpai.” Osamu commented as he ate his lunch. “How many is that now?”

His twin answered for her. “I’m pretty sure that makes him Unlucky Schmuck #5. But that guy didn’t even have a chance.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) stopped taking her notes and decided to indulge in the conversation. “And why’s that? Kenji’s a nice guy.”

“Easy because he’s boring. You don’t want to date a boring guy, do you?”

“The most interesting thing about him is that he’s on the basketball team.” Osamu piped in, reaching over the table to get some of her chips. “He’s not even on the starting line up.”

“His last post was just a picture of the ocean.” Suna piped in, his eyes showed so much disinterest in Unlucky Schmuck #5’s profile account. He showed his phone to her. “See?”

“So? That doesn’t mean he’s boring. Besides, I like the ocean. That’s why I liked his post.”

Suna rolled his eyes and turned off his phone. He leaned all his weight over (Y/N)’s shoulder. “That’s because you’re nice.”

“Sometimes too nice.” She grumbled as she jerked her shoulder so Suna could get off her and then slap the gray haired twin’s hand away from her chips. She looked back at Atsumu and said, “But I’m still waiting for the right guy to come around.”

The setter grinned. “Then quit waiting because I’m right here.”

Osamu and Suna scoffed, which irked Atsumu. “Aren’t you Unlucky Schmuck #1?”

“Am not!”

“Got the video on my phone if you want to relive it again.” Suna smirked as he taunted Atsumu with a wave of his phone. The video was pure gold. No way was he going to delete it. He needed all the memories, especially embarrassing moments of the Miya twins.

“Well, I’m glad you three are so interested in my love life but I already have my hands full dealing with you guys. I don’t need a jealous boyfriend on top of your crazy fangirls. My anxiety would not be able to handle it. Besides, nationals are literally next week. ”

The twins pouted in unison when the manager mentioned their fangirls. 

“Then get a guy who’ll understand. I’m sure there’s someone-”

“I’m right here-!” Atsumu exclaimed but was cut short when his twin hit the back of his head and at the same time Suna kicked his foot. “Quit abusing me!”

Suna ignored him and continued on. “Whoever this schmuck is, he’s going to be the luckiest guy in Japan.”

“He better be good at volleyball.” Atsumu grumbled, his head on the table. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Osamu joined his twin’s line of thinking. “Preferably from a powerhouse. The guy can’t be from a weak team. And cook some good food.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the Miya twins. Of course, they would say something like that. She looked back at Suna and asked, “Do you have a requirement for my future significant other?”

Suna thought for a moment before answering her question. “As long as he cares for you.”

“Thanks Suna.” 

“But the moment he hurts you,” Atsumu began.

“He has to deal with everyone on the team.” Osamu finished his brother’s sentence.

(Y/N) grinned at their protectiveness. “Thanks Unlucky Schmuck #1 and #2.”

“Hey!”/ “Don’t call me that!” The twins exclaimed in unison causing the middle blocker and manager to laugh once more.

End of Flashback

“Earth to (L/N) (Y/N)! Can you hear me, manager? This is future champion setter, Atsumu, speaking! Talk to me!”

(Y/N) blinked and tore her eyes away from the orange court. “Huh? What did you say?”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes and leaned close to (Y/N)’s face, causing the girl’s face to heat up. She quickly stepped back and looked away from the twin’s observant gaze. 

“What?” She asked him.

“Who were you looking at?”

“No one in particular. Just Karasuno's team in general.” 

She answered way too quickly and they both knew it. Atsumu grinned at his senpai’s poor attempt to lie. “Someone caught your eye?”

“Shouldn’t you be practicing your sets?”

“Oh no, don’t you avoid my question, (Y/N). Besides, my sets are perfect.” He turned his focus on the volleyball players that were still competing below. “Who’s the guy? Better not be that Goody-Two Shoes.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Karasuno’s #9. Kageyama Tobio.”

She looked at the roster and found the person Atsumu was talking about. She then looked back at the match that was still playing. 

“Wait a minute. Is this the same Goody-Two Shoes that you met at the National training camp?”

Atsumu huffed and nodded. His eyes narrowed at the impressive set Tobio just did. “Yeah, that’s him alright. Piece of work that guy. Always setting the ball exactly how the spiker wants it. Such a Goody-Two Shoes.”

“Oh my god, Atsumu. He’s just a first year student. Give him a break.” She paused for a moment before she asked, “Did you actually call him a Goody-Two Shoes?

The Inarizaki setter was just about to answer when he saw the familiar glare on his manager’s face. “Of course not.”

“You’re such a liar.” She scolded him as she flicked his forehead. “You always have to psych someone out and cause trouble.”

“Whatever! It’s not like I hurt his feelings. I was just telling him the truth. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Just as she was about to reply, there was the familiar sound of a volleyball being slammed to the ground. Soon after, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the stadium. “And Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi, just did a flawless service ace!”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched for the mentioned ace. #3. The third-year wing spiker. A guy with long brown hair styled in a bun. He looked older than the rest of the team with his tall and strong build and with the service ace earlier, Azumane has proven himself that he’s the ace of the team.

He looked intimidating, just like how Aran would be when he was on a roll. But for some reason, Karasuno’s ace, didn’t scare her. 

‘It’s his smile. He has a beautiful smile.’ (Y/N) thought as she watched the ace high-fived his teammates. ‘It looks like he’s enjoying himself… Having the time of his life.’

The pair of students watched the match until it reached its conclusion with Karasuno winning the second set. Which means they’ll advance to the second round where they’ll face their own team. Tomorrow’s match: Inarizaki vs Karasuno. It will be an interesting match that would guarantee to excite the crowd.

“Well, at least we know who we’re going to beat tomorrow.” Atsumu’s eyes shimmered in excitement, knowing tomorrow’s match will be a battle between setters. He couldn’t wait to prove to everyone who the better setter was. “Come on, (Y/N), let’s get out of here. The team is probably waiting for us to go out for lunch.”

“Sure.” 

As Atsumu led the way, (Y/N) looked over her shoulder where her eyes landed on the members of Karasuno’s volleyball team cheering for joy. The ace’s smile was infectious as she felt her own lips smile as well. 

~

“Hey, Atsumu. You go ahead. I want to buy another T-shirt while I’m here. I’ll catch a bus to the hotel.”

“You sure? I can wait-” Atsumu’s stomach decided it was the perfect moment to announce its hunger out loud. 

(Y/N) laughed as the setter tried to cease his stomach’s rumbling. “Just go, ‘Tsumu. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Fine! But hurry, will you? You know how ‘Samu gets when he’s hungry.”

The two parted ways. It always surprised her how large the crowd gets during intermission. She had to dodge and weave to avoid the hurdle of students carrying band instruments. She was successful and luckily the T-shirt stand was right there. There were so many options to consider and she was just about to make a selection when there was a sudden loud CRASH. 

The noise caused her to stiffen in fright, she looked behind her to find someone had dropped a pair of cymbals.

“Can someone pick those up?” A girl asked her bandmates.

“I got them.” A bright-eyed boy volunteered.

(Y/N) remembered to breathe to calm her nerves as she gave the worker of the T-shirt stand a wobbly smile. “Can I have-”

“Hey, you! Look out!”

While the boy meant to be helpful, everything went downhill from there. When the boy bent down to pick up the cymbals, he accidentally bumped the nearby bass drum causing it to fall out of its little wagon. The large drum began to roll away, causing the crowd to panic. 

(Y/N) looked behind her and saw that the drum was heading right towards her. She was just about to move when she felt a warm hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way. She watched as two guys her age, one with dark hair and the other with silver hair, stopped the drum from crashing into the T-shirt stand. 

“A-Are you okay, miss?” A male’s voice, deep with concern, asked her. “Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yeah. Thanks for that-” (Y/N)’s ability to talk disappeared when she saw the face of her hero. It was Karasuno’s ace, Azumane Asahi. 

And he looked even more handsome up close. She had to step back - not because she was scared of him but because she could feel her heart going into overdrive being so close to the guy she was beginning to have a crush on.

“Miss?”

‘He’s talking to you, dummy! Talk back!’

“Oh, um, yeah! Thanks again.” (Y/N) gave him a smile. “You’re Azumane, right? From Karasuno? I just watched your match. You were amazing, especially with that service ace.”

Asahi’s POV

A girl was talking to him. 

A pretty girl. Willingly talking. To him. 

It was enough to cause his brain to short circuit. He waited for the girl to come to her senses and realize that she was supposed to be scared of him, like how everyone else he came across. But to his surprise, the pretty girl was still talking to him. She didn’t have an ounce of fear in her eyes and the gentle smile she gave him made him feel better about himself. And to make matters even better, she was giving him compliments.

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Daichi and Suga came up on either side of him and saw the girl. Asahi didn’t have to look at them to know his friends were giving each other a knowing smile behind his back.

The two introduced themselves to the girl who in turn introduced herself.

“My name is (L/N) (Y/N). I’m from Inarizaki High School in Hyōgo. I came here with my team.”

“You must be really good if you made it to Nationals.” Suga complimented.

She shook her head. “Oh no. I’m just the manager for the volleyball team. I was just telling your ace here how good your team was during your match.”

“We were nervous at first but we managed to get through this round.” Daichi told her. “The other team surprised us with that underhand serve.”

“Really? You manage to adapt to it very well.”

“We couldn’t have done it without this guy!” Suga slapped his hand against Asahi’s back. “Would you believe me if I told you he was single?”

“S-Suga!” He shouted in embarrassment. “W-Why w-would you say that?!”

“Oh come on, Asahi,” Daichi placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like he’s lying. Besides, we're all single too.”

“Y-Yeah but that doesn’t mean she is.”

“Sorry to break the news but I’m single just like you.” 

He was shocked to hear that the girl in front of him was actually single. She was breathtaking. Literally. And she was so nice to him.

“My team thinks otherwise. They keep pushing me to have a boyfriend, but I have my hands full managing them and their crazy fangirls. A jealous boyfriend isn’t something I need, you know?”

“Oh, well, that’s reasonable. Maybe you need to find someone who’s understanding,” Suga elbowed his side. “Right, Asahi?”

“U-Um yeah?” What is Suga up to?

“It’s a good thing there are guys, like Asahi, in the world. He’s actually quite sensitive. The only time he feels confident is when he’s on the court.”

“Daichi, what are you doing?” He whispered, the heat from his neck began to crept onto his face. Is his face red? Can she tell?

“Oh, no. Look at the time. Daichi, we need to go.” Suga announced, grabbing the captain’s shoulders and pushing him in a random direction. “We have that meeting with the coach. Right now. Remember?”

“That’s right, Suga.” Daichi gave him a knowing smile, a smile that he knew meant trouble. “Asahi, why don’t you stay here with (L/N)? Make sure she’s safe from any more runaway instruments.”

“It was nice meeting you two! Good luck tomorrow! You’re going to need it. The boys of the Inarizaki team love a good challenge. Don’t disappoint them.”

“Right back at you.”

He watched as his friends walked away, leaving him alone with the girl who caused his anxiety to skyrocket to a whole new level. Not even Kiyoko made him feel like this.

“You're lucky to have such good friends, Azumane.” She told him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. “I bet there’s never a dull moment when you three are together.”

He laughed as he rubbed his neck out of habit. “Been that way since we were first years. Though the first and second years bring all the crazy.”

“I know exactly what you mean. The second years on the team love making my life crazy. I love them but sometimes they can be a bit much. Especially during Nationals. Speaking of which, is this your first time?”

“Yeah. And with this being my last year, I guess I should be grateful that I’m even here.”

He was so lost in his own world of self-deprecation that he didn’t notice what she was doing. Not until her fist punched his chest. It wasn’t gentle or strong, somewhere in between, but her touch didn’t surprise him. 

It was her eyes that surprised him. They seemed to shine with determination and, for some reason or another, inspire confidence. Even her voice was firm.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Asahi. Your team didn’t get here by chance. You all earned a spot here. You deserve to be here.”

Was it possible for a heart to beat so hard against a person’s ribs? Maybe it’s a medical condition? Because never before had he felt so anxious yet empowered. He wondered if (Y/N) could feel his heart underneath her hand. 

“I’m not saying you should just get over yourself because we all have experienced some level of negative emotion in our lives, right? And it’s not as easy as turning a page in a book. Trust me I know. So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.”

There was another feeling. He couldn’t find a label for it, but he could describe it. A warm sensation that bloomed from his chest to every cell in his body the moment she said his name. Not his surname. His actual name. Asahi. His brain felt as though it had melted inside his skull. But by some miracle, he found his voice again.

“You… You think so?” He asked her. “About me being here?”

Why was he asking her this? Just a few minutes ago, she was a stranger. She could just lie to make him feel better but he had a feeling (Y/N) wasn’t like that. 

“Are you kidding? I saw it with my own eyes.” She stepped back and mimicked a serve. The smile on her lips complimented the excitement in her eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of players these past three years, all of them possessing some kind of amazing skill. But you’re… Special.”

“Because I’m the ace?”

She smiled up at him. “That’s part of it, but if I’m being honest here I think you’re special even without the title of ace. The match from today proved it to me and I’m sure you’ll see it soon enough.”

“See what?”

“Your true self-worth.”

Normal POV

(Y/N) watched as Asahi mulled over her words and she hoped it gave him some confidence. While she didn’t know him all too well, Asahi looked like a nice enough guy. A bit self-conscious about his abilities, but hopefully she helped him loosen the strangling roots of insecurity that surrounded him.

Why did she care so much in helping him? Well, he did save her. The least she could do is give him some encouragement. She frowned at the thought. No… There must be something else she could do to give her thanks…

Her eyes wandered to the T-shirt stand and an idea was formed.

“Hey Asahi-san, let me buy you a T-shirt. It’s the least I could do since you saved me and all.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Really. As long as you're okay-”

She shook her head, grabbed his hand, and led him to the T-shirt stand. “Come on, please. You can choose whatever shirt you like. Consider it a gift.”

“G-Gift?” Asahi stammered and she couldn’t help but find his stammering cute. “From you?”

A small chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes from me. It wouldn’t make sense if it was someone else. Let me do this for you.”

Asahi contemplated for a moment before agreeing. The worker of the T-shirt stand, who watched their interaction the whole time, was extremely kind to them as (Y/N) picked her choice as well. Asahi stood awkwardly by, waiting for the transaction to be finished.

“You two would make a cute couple.” The worker said, quiet enough so only she could hear. “You should go for him.”

“You think so?” (Y/N) asked as she discreetly peered over her shoulder to look at the guy who made her feel all warm and fuzzy. 

“Believe it or not,” The worker handed her the two bags, hers and Asahi’s, “Before the whole chaos started, you already caught his eye. His two friends tried to get him to talk to you but I guess he was too nervous.”

(Y/N) smiled widely at this. Maybe he liked her too? She hoped so because the feeling was definitely mutual. Only one way to find out...

“Hey, do you have a pen and paper I can use?”

~

Turns out the two third-years were heading in the same direction. By some cosmic fate, Asahi and his team were staying at the inn right next to the hotel she was staying in with her own team. So during the whole bus ride there, they got to know more about each other.

Asahi learned about (Y/N)’s favorite foods, hobbies, and even her future dream of attending the university in Tokyo. He laughed at the stories she shared about the Inarizaki team members. And (Y/N) was happy to learn more about him. She learned that he was close to the libero of his team, he has taste in fashion, and that his birthday just passed four days ago.

All too soon, they reached their destination. They walked side by side until they reached the point where the path forked, one way led to her hotel while the other led to Asahi’s inn.

She turned to face him and flashed him another smile. “Thanks for your company, Asahi-san. It was really nice getting to know you.”

“Same here, (Y/N)-san.” Asahi replied, his voice no longer nervous around her. “And thanks again for the shirt. I’ll make sure to take care of it. I want it to last for years.”

“It’s no problem. After all, you did save me.” Her fingers rubbed the plastic material of her bag out of nerves. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah, see you.” 

Asahi’s POV

With her back turned, there was sudden pull in his heart, as if begging for her to stay.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

He was surprised to hear his voice sound so firm but she brought that feeling out of him. He didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. He enjoyed talking to (Y/N). She was so understanding, kind, and ever so confident. Their time together felt so short but at the same time so long. Those moments with her… He wanted more of those moments. 

And the moment his eyes met with her hopeful ones, he knew he had to at least try to ask for her number.

“Yes, Asahi?”

Oh, god. She looked so pretty… He wondered if (Y/N) knew the effect she has on him. The initial confidence he had was beginning to fade, but he steeled his nerves and took a deep breath.

“I was wondering, i-if it’s okay with you, that w-we could-”

“(Y/N)-SENPAI!” A guy with blond hair called out to her.

Right next to him was another guy, identical to the first only with silver hair, yelled, “WE’RE WAITING FOR YOU! I’M STARVING!”

“WHAT ‘SAMU SAID!”

‘They must be the Miya twins.’ He thought.

(Y/N) sighed before answering back, “Give me a minute!” She turned back and offered him a sheepish look. “Sorry about that Asahi. What were you saying?”

Over her shoulder, he saw the Miya twins frowning at him all the while staring daggers in his direction. His confidence, the little bit he had in supply, disappeared into thin air. He stammered out a reply, “Never mind. U-Um… Get a good night’s sleep. T-Take care of yourself.”

(Y/N)’s smile melted. Was that disappointment in her eyes? But she quickly recovered and offered him a bittersweet smile, “Oh, um, thanks Asahi. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” She turned around and began to make her way to the twins when stopped in her tracks. “Oh, and Asahi-san?”

“Yeah?” He felt his heart hitch up to his throat when they made eye contact once again. Her eyes were a lovely shade of (E/C) filled with warmth and kindness. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself the next few days. Remember what I said. Your team is lucky to have you as their ace. So do your best tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She glanced down at the plastic bag containing the shirt she bought for him. “I hope you like the shirt. Consider it a birthday gift from me.”

And with that, the girl he developed to have feelings for walked away, but not before she gave one last smile that made his heart expand three times its size. 

~

“Asahi! You’re back!” Nishinoya’s loud voice echoed throughout the room where Karasuno's team was staying. “Is what Daichi and Suga are saying true? You met a girl?!”

Tanaka joined in his friend’s interrogation. “Yeah, Asahi! Daichi didn’t want to say anything but Suga said you saved her life!”

“Was she pretty?”

“What school does she go to?”

“What was she like?”

“What’s her name?”

“We need details!” The two second-years yelled out in unison. Their eyes shimmering in excitement as they waited for answers. 

“Uh, w-well…”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Daichi grabbed their shirt collars and pulled them back. “Give Asahi a break. He’s had an eventful day.”

“Yeah, come on, Asahi, let's get you a drink from the vending machine.” Suga offered, his hand already pushing him out of the room.

“I’m not thirsty-”

“Yes, you are.” Suga interrupted. “Our treat. Well, Daichi’s treat since he’s buying.”

The trio of third-years walked downstairs and true to Suga’s words, Daichi bought them a round of their favorite drink.

“Okay, spill! Don’t leave out a single detail. I want to know everything.” Suga pressed, just as Nishinoya and Tanaka were a few minutes ago.

“Suga, calm down.” Daichi told him. “You're worse than Nishinoya and Tanaka combined.”

“Oh, come on, Daichi,” Suga complained. “You want to know just as badly as I do.” 

“Ok, fine.” The captain admitted before turning to the ace. “So how did it go with (Y/N)?”

“Details.” Suga reminded him. 

So he told his friends everything that happened when they left them alone. How she raised his spirits, believing in his self-worth as an ace. How her words inspired him. How she made him feel nervous one moment and confident the next. How she bought him a new shirt as a gift.

“She sounds awesome for you, Asahi.” Suga complimented. “And if I remember correctly, doesn’t she fit your description of your ideal dream girl?”

“I mean- Yeah. She’s great but-”

Daichi interrupted him. “But what, Asahi? You're both single and you’re definitely interested in each other.”

“How do you know that? I mean she did say she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.”

“She said she didn’t need a jealous boyfriend.” Daichi reminded him. “You’re the most sensitive guy I know.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“This time it is.”

“Seriously, Asahi,” Suga placed his hand on his shoulder. “Why do you think I highlighted your star qualities? You take other people’s feelings into account. She helped build your confidence. And you just told us, how you had a great time talking to her where it sounds like she did too. You’re literally perfect for each other.”

“You think so?” He asked, sounding hopeful. “I do like her. Do you think she likes me?”

“Dude, she wasn’t scared of you, she held down a meaningful conversation with you, and she even bought you a shirt.” Suga listed, his grin growing by the minute. “(Y/N) likes you.”

The small flame of hope in his heart, fueled by his friends’ words, began to burn brightly. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Even if she’ll be on the sidelines on the opposing team’s side, he’ll still be happy.

“So what will you do next, ace?” Daichi asked, crossing his arms. Suga did the same thing as they waited for a response. “Will you let this opportunity slip away?”

“No way.”

His friends grinned, happy to see their glass-hearted friend sound so confident.

~

It was nightfall. Everyone took a rain check and turned in early, knowing that the next day will be just as hard as the first. The only person not asleep was him. He volunteered to shower last as it gave him the chance to relive the afternoon.

How was he going to talk to her tomorrow? Will she want him to talk to her? His team is playing against hers tomorrow… If they win tomorrow, will she be angry and ignore him? 

Shaking his head at the thought, he finished his nightly routine. He decided to wear the shirt (Y/N) bought for him. He grabbed the bag and unfolded the shirt. Carefully as if it was woven by the most precious fabric in the world. In his mind, the T-shirt was a treasure given to him by an angel.

For some reason, he recalled (Y/N)’s words, ‘So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone.’

He hoped she believed that to be true because he might have found that someone. 

The sound of paper falling caught his attention. At first he thought it was just the discarded T-shirt tags, when his eyes landed on a simple piece of folded notebook paper in the sink. He picked it up, unfolded it, and his heart stopped for the third time? Fourth? Maybe fifth?

In clean and elegant handwriting, the note displayed:

I hope this isn’t weird of me to do this, but I didn’t want to lose this chance. So this is me making the first move because while I try to play it cool, you make me nervous. (Hard to believe, right?) Anyways, this is my number: XXX-XXX-XXXX. 

We can just talk if you want. You seem like a cool guy and I still want to get to know you. If you don’t, I’ll understand. Anyways, I’ll cut this note short. Good luck tomorrow! Don’t hold back against Inarizaki. 

P.S: I hope your friends were telling the truth earlier.

~

Normal POV

(Y/N) ditched her cards the moment she heard her phone let out a small ding, signaling a new message.

“Hey, you can’t just do that in the middle of the game!” Atsumu’s voice called out.

She ignored him as she jumped on her bed and grabbed her phone. Her heart was racing as she quickly unlocked her phone, but then it expanded at the sight of the message that read:

Hey, it's Asahi. Is this (Y/N)-san?

Her face broke into a wide smile. Her thumbs danced over the keyboard as she typed out a reply:

Asahi! Yeah, it’s me. I’m glad you found my note.

She watched as the three dots appeared, signaling that Asahi was typing. God, he has no idea the effect he has on her.

It was a nice surprise. A bit of a shock, but it’s very much welcomed. The shirt fits by the way. I think it’s my new favorite. 

Another message appeared after the first and she felt every atom in her body seemed to explode after reading it.

By the way, my friends were telling the truth. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

~

This was the first page of a story where two individuals found solace in one another.

~

Next: Chapter 2

[beaulesbian]

🌘☀️ Some thoughts on Zoro & Luffy and their connection to gods and demons☀️🌒

This post started at first with just a few points about Zoro in the context to Asura/ King of Hell but since then it somehow evolved into connecting bits and pieces between Zoro & Luffy parallels again, I just can't help it, sooo...long post ahead.

Wano + Egghead spoilers

I always love remembering this one of the very first scenes where we (and Luffy) first hear about Zoro, and in the context of Zoro being a Pirate Hunter, even described as a demonic beast or as Koby says "demon in human form." None of this discouraged Luffy upon hearing this, on the contrary - he thought that if he sees for himself if Zoro was a good guy, he would be a great addition to his crew, and then went out of his way to seek him out! And only later we got the explanation that Zoro just couldn't find his way back home. "Roaming the seas" meant surviving for him, bounty hunter meant getting by in life with the skills he knew the best - swords, which is kind of sad when you think about it, but all the more interesting that it was Luffy who found him in Shells town,

where Zoro, a nonbeliever of any gods of higher power, was bound to a cross, and the first thing Luffy pointed out was "he's smiling".

I like to think that the smile might have been one of the first signs important enough for Luffy to choose someone for his crew - not only the kindness that followed when Luffy saw Zoro eating the dirty rice ball, but the smile that's by itself also very connected to Luffy himself:

After that first fight they won together, already reading each other so well, Zoro was the first one to call Luffy his captain (and later at Baratie also the first one to call him the future Pirate King!). He was someone who already fully believed in Luffy's future of reaching his dream without questioning it, perphaps because their drive towards their goals and dreams was very similar. And Luffy was the one who freed Zoro and let him have his swords - his biggest treasures - and gave him back the possibility to go into the world to actually follow his dream!

"One day, he'll show up and take you out under the sun, to the freedom of the sea!" - ch. 1095, Buccaneers about Sun God Nika (flashback with Kuma)

Fast forward to Wano - it's incredible how entangled their stories are with belief in always striving to do better/be stronger/try again next time for Luffy, someone who doesn't care what others think - he just needs to do what he wants and to be free - only for him to awaken his Devil Fruit and his God Nika powers; and for Zoro (a non-believer/apatheist) with how determined he was to successfully wield Enma so he could defeat King the Wildfire even to the lengths of becoming the King of Hell if that was what needed to be done to get Luffy one more step towards being the Pirate King.

Which brings me back to Demon Asura Zoro and where we saw this form throughout the manga:

This whole post started at first as a parallel to my other post about Zoro not really being shown to react to Luffy's Gear 5 (yet, as of chapter 1109), and I kept thinking about Zoro's Asura technique and how he used it so far only three (!!!) times, and there weren't many reactions from the strawhat crew either.

First one was during the Enies Lobby against Kaku, who even calls that vision 'demon-god' (ch. 417). If I remember Zoro was there by himself with Kaku, his crew each fighting other opponents elswhere:

The second time was during their first visit to Sabaody Archipelago, ch. 510, where it was the whole crew against the Pacifistas. The only bigger reactions were Brook and Chopper ("So many Zoros!!" - how cute!)

Luffy went right after Zoro with his last attack against the Pacifistas, so he's either seen Zoro's attack or it just wasn't the time or place to react, which, fair.

and then, third and last time so far Zoro went into his Asura form, it was up against Kaido, ch. 1010, when Luffy was out of it and Kaido was threatening how he would end Luffy in various ways.. which only angered Zoro more ("That's my captain!" - yeah, tell him, Zoro!)

All of these three times we've seen Asura, it was against few of the most dangerous opponents and all three times Zoro had his bandana on, being serious about it. All three of these times he knew his whole crew was fighting for their lives too and were in very real danger. Enies Lobby really changed the tone of the next few arcs with how serious things were about to go; Sabaody was just after Thriller Bark with Zoro being still injured and he knew what Kuma/Pacifistas were capable of - there was real fear and despair. And of course, on Wano against Kaido,. he saw how much damage Luffy took, Zoro could only hope to put more wounds on Kaido to count in their favor.

Zoro knew he had one last attack to try and make some difference in this fight - and this was before his fight with King, so he wasn't fully in sync with Enma yet, but it was good enough to unlock Asura technique - with something more to it.

Apparently along with his haki - not just the armament or observation haki, but the supreme king haki, as Kaido himself is shocked to find out. Zoro wasn't even consciously aware of having/using this haki.

Even the wiki mentions this as Zoro adding the supreme king haki to his Asura attack to strenghten it, or possibly was only able to unlock this technique because of having supreme king haki - meaning he was possibly using it even in both of those pre-time skip situations mentioned above.

The supreme king haki is something people can't learn, but are born with, meaning Zoro probably didn't know until Wano (and still wasn't sure what he did), but possibly learnt to use it instinctively - very much like Luffy on Amazon Lily.)

I already made a post that touched a bit on King of hell Zoro, and other parts around Asura (clearly, i'm never done thinking about that), with a very big possibility/hints that he could come from lineage of people of the D. (asura - enemies of gods - people of D.) - especially if it's connected to supreme king haki as inherited ability (although that isn't confirmed in the manga, as far as I understood).

This brings me to Zoro's family, and specifically Ryuma.

Wano was a great arc that connected things from Thriller Bark -with Zoro returning the legendary sword Shusui back to Ryuma's grave where it belonged.

There was an interesting panel at the end of Wano, where people were celebrating Luffy's victory over Kaido, but were given the name Joyboy as their savior - possibly Momonosuke's doing as Luffy told him not to mention him by name because Luffy didn't want to be a hero.

And in this panel, the peple are comparing this feat of victory to the legendary "God of the Blade" - which is another title for Ryuma.

It's so curious how Zoro is connected to Ryuma, even through span of many centuries and countries across, but still there is that connection, on top of actually fighting Ryuma's zombie on Thriller Bark, and Zoro isn't even aware of it. We only know about it from the SBS corner of Oda mentioning Zoro's family. (SBS corner in vol. 105. Ryuma wasn't mentioned there precisely, but the name Shimotsuki being of Zoro's grandmother and others from Wano, it makes sense they're Ryuma's descendants):

Side note: There's also something really beautiful of how the Shimotsuki line was passed down on Zoro from his grandmother - and his promise he cherishes since childhood being tied to Kuina, someone who wanted to be the greatest swords(wo)man - and therefore Zoro carrying Wado and that dream and promise for her.

Zoro & Luffy

Now to tie it all back to parallels with Zoro and Luffy - I love that there are always these small moment in how similar these two are - in their honest words and actions, in them believing in one another and believing even more in reaching their dreams, their crew and their strengths. In both being so directionally clueless and sometimes outright stupid, yet in certain situations (more so in battles and fights), they are the ones sometimes smartest and most strategic.

Then there's these other similarities between them: how much they don't care about what's told about them or -be it by luck or fate- how things work out in their favor in the end, usually. How both of them don't wish to be heroes, because heroes had to share (food and sake).

How there's that fact that Zoro doesn't know the full context of his powers, especially with his supreme king haki- or that he doesn't want to know the truth or put a name to that ability, because he fights with his swords and doesn't need to put belief of any other powers beside his own strength. (Or maybe he will soon learn how to use it to his (and his crew's) benefit.)

and Luffy, who doesn't know probably anything about Nika- and most likely wouldn't care much about them beside the scope of his new powers. The whole meaning of being something like "sun god" for others didn't register with him yet, and it might never be that important to him personally. Time after time, people around him mention luck or fate, or how people of the D. are the enemies of the Gods - enemies of the celestial dragons, but those don't really matter to Luffy because it doesn't change why he fights and why he needs himself and others to be free and achieve his dream.

How Zoro and Ryuma could be parallels to Luffy and Joyboy - one living in the present, reminiscent of those that lived centuries ago - something about the history always repeating.

When Zoro got to fight Ryuma on Thriller Bark, or even Hyogoro compares him to Shimotsuki Ushimaru (Zoro's great uncle),

and how Zunesha was waiting for Joyboy, how Roger and Oden found messages from Joyboy of his promises to return.

The parallels between sun god Nika and demon god/king Asura are so interesting in their opposites yet similarities. There's still so much we don't know about Nika or Joyboy, but Luffy himself isn't just the perfect picture of responsibility or justice. He's free, and that's the most important for him. He now has the power to do what he really wants to do with his powers, he unlocked that new potential to make it even more fun and even more dangerous against his enemies.

Even if Zoro's saying he doesn't believe in higher powers he embraces the powers that unlocked with Enma and getting him the title of King of Hell, he knows it would be the things that would keep him fighting for another minute, hour, day when it becomes necessary to protect Luffy and their crew.

Zoro may not believe in any gods but he believes in Luffy with all his being.

And in the similar vein, Luffy is the one who always believed in Zoro's strength and capability to protect the rest of their crew when it was necessary, times after time.

It's feels like it's not at all a coincidence that Luffy's whole crew is full of otherness and beings connected to hell/monsters/demons more than anything divine - because lot of the gods in One Piece are mentioned in context of standing above others and above common people - it's a bit flipped of what's good or not, or even more it's never clear because that's life, and those people are just claiming some titles. Eneru being the first example of a "god" the Straw Hats encountered, celestial dragons being called Gods, the Gorosei having each titles of "Godhead" - it's no wonder that Luffy's crew all fights for freedom and reaching whatever each of them needs to achive as their dream,

and includes: a dead man but living skeleton Brook; a demon child Nico Robin; Chopper "I don't mind being a monster for Luffy.'"; Sanji with all his hell fire and "diable" kicks and attacks, along with his non human strength and other abilities; Nami wielding the powers similar to Eneru without the need of both Devil Fruit or being called a goddess, and bringing down lightning on anyone who threatens her crew; Usopp and his powers of nature and plants sprouting new life and strengths from long distance; Jimbei - fishman and former Sun Pirate and also "First son of the Sea"; Franky the more cyborg than a man; and of course, Roronoa "I might as well become the King of Hell" Zoro.

It's not all so black and white, good or bad. Luffy is still everything that makes him Luffy - he's honest and selfish in his selflesness, kind and brave and stubborn, and always knows that Zoro (and his whole crew) has his back so he doesn't have to hold back.

And Zoro is still Zoro despite being able to wield some newer haki powers he's slowly discovering now. He's still getting lost and still is his stubborn self that puts the crew and Luffy above himself, and would follow Luffy into hell if that was needed.

Luffy and Zoro are "just" captain and his first mate, always throughout the story since the beginning. Orphans with such interestingly woven past and relationships around them, who grew up with a big dream they had to go and achieve it no matter what, and found someone just as honest, kind, powerful and trustworthy as they were. But there's that deep and fierce devotion that always borderlines on something beyond just good. They're pirates - because that means being free.

They can be chaotic and powerful, and find something divine in the loyalty of the demonic powers, and something hellish in the god-like entity bringing freedom.

It feels like something Roger said to Rayleigh when they first met - That it was a fated meeting.

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[macfrog]

la petite mort sex on fire chapter four

bonsoir my children. it's your cool slutty daddy, ceo!joel, back for round two of paris trip. please enjoy, i hope this one causes less confusion but just as much heart failure as last chapter. love u guys long time. literally SO much. 💘✨💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you spend your second day in paris being spoiled by joel, who buys you anything you set eyes on. you’ve a treat of your own in mind as a thank-you, later on

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) another fucking confusing flashback, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, more obscene spending, sexy french speaking, sugardaddy!joel, BIG flirting, alcohol consumption, sexy lingerie, lapdance, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected piv sex, titty appreciation, assplay, double penetration, dom!joel, softdom!joel, ripping of expensive lingerie (rip), overstimulation, creampie, aftercare!joel, angst, themes of abandonment, fluff in the end i'm a romantic at heart

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first. “Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.” “Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?” “No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

The late afternoon sun has dipped behind the clouds. The wind’s picked up, too. You’re standing on the terrace of your suite, elbows propped on the metal railing, watching the light slowly drain from the sky, and melt into tiny twinkling headlights on the roads below.

Paris stares straight back at you. Melancholy, in this light. A little faded, worn, a washed gray as she loses her fight with the slow-setting sun. Your eyes trace the skyline, jumping from buildings to streetlights, following birds in the distance as they loop and soar over the city. Free. Held down to nothing, and no one.

When you close your eyes, he’s on the couch beside you. Blue-eyed stare cloudy, eyes puffy and red with tears he’s doing everything to hold back. Calling you sweetheart, telling you we can work through this. He’s got your bare fingers in his, thumbs running across your knuckles, rubbing circles around the empty space on your third finger. You have an impulse to stand up and walk out. You think you might follow through with it.

You don’t even hear him come in, don’t hear him call your name. Only feel when his arm snakes around your waist and he turns you to face him. Your eyes flutter back open.

“Hey,” Joel says, leaning back to look you up and down. “Nice robe.”

His fingers toy with the belt, thumb running across the soft terrycloth.

“You smell like whiskey,” you mutter, hands resting on his chest. You take a deep breath, pushing the relief you feel now that he’s back, down to the pit of your stomach. And then you finally look him in the eye. “How was Jean-Marc?”

Joel shrugs. “Same as usual. Wants to meet you.”

“You mentioned me?”

He bypasses your question. “Said I’d check with you, but he wants to have us for breakfast tomorrow.”

You nod. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

Joel grumbles, his lips tighten, and he looks out over the view behind you. You tilt your head and his hands take yours, dropping them to your side. His eyes fall low, past the tie he was just messing with.

“You gettin’ ready to go?”

“I was about to, yeah,” you reply, breathing a laugh when he starts to kneel in front of you. “Joel.”

“Mhm?” he asks, but he’s not listening, is he? His hands run up your legs, starting at your knees, and push the edges of your robe apart the higher they go.

“We – gotta – Joel,” you sigh, head rolling back, hands gripping the railing.

Joel’s lips part on your inner thigh, his tongue runs along your skin, trailing northward. His hands precede, pushing under your robe now to cup your naked ass, when he lifts his chin and glances up.

“Nothin’ on under it, baby,” he whispers, tsking. “’m I gonna do with you?”

“We have–” you shudder when his fingers move between your legs, “–to go get ready.”

“So go.”

Fucker.

You lean back against the glass, eyes quickly scanning the hotel in front of you, searching the neighboring windows for any prying eyes, but in the slow-moving blanket of dusk, mixed with your will to care quickly depleting, you find none.

Your attention draws back to Joel, whose lips run dangerously close to your center.

“Open, baby,” he says, and you don’t think about it. Your body just does what he tells it to.

Your legs fall open, head lulls to one side, fingers move through his hair. His jaw lowers, breath gently tickling your soft skin, and then his lips cup around your mound.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Which quickly morphs into a moan, open-mouthed and broken, when Joel’s tongue sweeps over your clit.

“There,” you whisper, a little more serious than you intended, “do that – again.”

He obeys, wet tongue licking you again while his hands pull your thighs over his shoulders. Your weight shifts onto his body, back arching as he sucks on the sensitive bud.

Your hips roll, needing him a little more and a little further south. And he hears you, again. He takes a hand off of your leg, middle and ring fingers joining together to push up between your folds and inside you, dragging a whine from your lips.

“Yeah,” you moan, feeling yourself driving into his mouth and fucking yourself on his hand at the same time.

“Taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbles, mouth preoccupied.

Your head falls back, body slung over the balcony, thighs spreading ever so slightly to have more of him on more of you. And then your head starts to dizzy, your body hums in pleasure, your cunt starts to throb.

But before it goes any further, he’s pulling away.

His lips leave first. Then he draws his hand from between you, sucks his fingers clean and stands. Is he fucking –

“– serious?” you ask, jolting back to life.

He smirks, tongue pushing around his cheeks. “Hurry up ‘n get ready. I wanna go down to the bar for a drink before the car comes.”

And then he’s turning on his heel, striding back inside.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he calls over his shoulder.

Your hands hit your thighs with a slap. “Fucking…sadist,” you hiss after him, following him into the warmly lit living room of your suite and down the hallway to the bedroom. Trying to ignore the ache between your legs which only grows worse the more you move.

“I’ll take good care of you later, angel.”

He sits back against the dresser at the foot of the bed, nods toward the black dress you’d laid out on the mattress an hour ago.

“Go on.”

“Go on what?”

“Show me the dress I paid three grand for on you, instead of it laying on the fuckin’ bed.”

You roll your eyes and storm by him, grabbing the black fabric, and lock yourself in the bathroom.

“’n don’t you think about finishin’ yourself!” Joel calls through the door.

“Fuck you!” you throw back, hearing his cocky laugh echo around the room.

You untie your robe in front of the mirror, letting it drop off of your shoulders into a pool of white cloth at your feet. Your eyes flit down your naked body – scanning from your shoulders over your breasts, around your tummy and down your thighs. You slip the black material over your head – a little stretch in it, just enough to mold around your body – and tug it down until it sits comfortably on your thighs.

The smooth skirt sits perfectly on your hips, curving around your ass and pulling in at your waist. You adjust the thin straps, fixing your breasts into place above a cut-out, just revealing enough. Backless, of course, straps crisscrossing over your skin.

It's skimpy, and it’s sexy, and it’s enough to make you look expensive as fuck and also make Joel want to rip it off of you the second you two make it back to the suite.

Enough to make him want to rip it off you before you’ve even left the suite, going by his reaction when you step out of the bathroom. He catches you in the mirror whilst he buttons his shirt, and turns, mouth falling open, eyes dancing all across your body.

You wordlessly sit, slip your feet into the heels you’d chosen, and fish the diamond-encrusted jewelry Joel had bought you from its box – pull the necklace around your neck, clip the earrings into place, and push the bracelets over your wrist. Then, you sling your jacket over your arm, and stand.

“I’m ready.”

“You…” His eyes scan down you again, settling on your chest for a couple seconds. “Yeah, baby. Give me five minutes.”

----------

The hotel bar reflects perfectly the intimidating grandeur of your suite, despite being a small room. It’s intimate, and pleasant, lit in a warm glow, and as you stroll in on Joel’s arm beneath a huge, ornate chandelier, you feel a smile pull across your lips. You’re not fucking sure why.

He leads you over to two heavy leather stools, pulling one out and waiting for you to hop up on it before he sits beside you. He orders two glasses of red wine, and the waiter craftily pours a small drop into one glass, setting it down in front of you and waiting for you to take a sip and approve before he pours the rest.

“Pétrus,” the waiter says, focusing intently on filling Joel’s glass. “Most expensive wine in France.”

You shoot Joel a look, but he’s already lifting his glass, glint in his eye. You hesitantly pick yours up and bump it into his, taking another sip.

“Good?” Joel asks, licking his lips.

You nod. “A little too good.”

He laughs. Then he nods at the waiter, who smiles, turns to you, and winks.

You smile back, a little embarrassed. “Merci beaucoup.”

As the waiter leaves you both, Joel turns, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. “Nice accent,” he says.

You scoff. “I hope it’s a nice accent, I studied it for six years.”

“Studied French?”

You nod.

“When?”

“High school, and then all through college.”

“How did I not know that about you?”

“It’s on my resume,” you say into your wine glass, “which I now know you didn’t read when you hired me.”

“Didn’t have to,” Joel replies. “I took one look at your pretty face ‘n decided you had the job.”

Him and his quick fucking wit. He almost catches you blushing, but you save it by shaking your head, and looking at the striped-wall room around you. There’s a framed picture of a horse on the wall behind Joel. Two men sit in animated conversation on the velvet couch below it, one of them clutching a wine that’s about to spill over.

When your eyes drift back to Joel, his are fixated elsewhere.

“Oh, be less obvious, Joel,” you mutter, corners of your mouth twitching.

“Can’t help it,” he finally draws his gaze from your chest, “they look so good. That dress is…” He shakes his head.

“You chose well.”

“Say somethin’ French to me.”

“Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah. Tell me I chose well in French.”

“Tell me how the meeting went.”

Joel sits back, pushing air out of his cheeks. “Can’t do that.”

“Then no French.”

“Baby, c’mon. Just for me.”

You shake your head, pouting your lip. “Nope.”

Joel pleads a few more times, promises he’ll buy you more things, promises he’ll order more wine, even promises he’ll fuck you in the bathroom right now if you’ll just say one sentence in French to him.

You don’t relent.

Not until you’re a couple more wines deep, leaning into one another, your knees between his, pointing out other guests in the room and conjuring make-believe backstories for them.

“That one,” you say, hushed, shoulder brushing off of Joel’s, “in the corner, by the lamp. He’s waitin’ for a date, a Tinder date, who–”

Joel snorts. “A Tinder date?”

“–a Tinder date, who used photos of Cindy Crawford on her profile.”

Joel’s head tips back with laughter, his hand steadies himself on the bar. “If Cindy Crawford ends up walkin’ in here, you’re gonna be real sorry.”

You lean into his shirt, giggling into the cotton. When you lift your head, the two of you quietening again, you look into his eyes.

Blurry around the edges, a little too much wine in your system, you whisper: “Kiss me.”

Joel’s head cocks. He leans in, and you lift your jaw. His lips part, breath hot over your red lips, and he says, “You��re gonna get us into trouble, darlin’.”

“Je m’en fous,” you reply.

“Monsieur,” a voice from your right breaks between you, “your car is outside.”

Joel straightens up, clears his throat, and thanks the waiter with another nod. His palm runs along the bar toward your arm, which he takes, rubbing his thumb gently over your skin, and he nods again toward the doors.

----------

Dinner was as fucking extreme as all of this has been. Food you’d never seen before, a menu you could barely translate even with language experience. Waiters who arrived at your table if you so much as looked up at them.

And more wine. A lot more wine.

You both stumble back into the suite, arms linked, laughter chorusing against the beige walls. Joel keeps a vice grip on your hand as you spin around him, wrapping you up in his arms when you’re close enough, and runs a thumb across your cheek when you’ve stopped giggling.

“That was fun,” he says, and you nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For all of it. I don’t even know what to say.”

He shakes his head in response. “You’re my guest.”

“Didn’t have to be,” you say, “could’ve brought Martha.”

“Oh, yeah, Martha. She’d be a fuckin’ hoot.”

He lets go of you, your laughter picking back up, and you split off. Joel wanders over to the minibar, and you…you wander off down the hall.

You’ve something in mind.

Safely in the bedroom, you slink over to your case and lift the bag you’d hidden in there earlier. You sneak into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as possible, and whip your little black dress over your head. You turn back to the mirror.

Same reflection as before. Same naked body. A little faded, a little unfocused, jewelry catching the light like stars in the night sky, but the same.

You reach into the white bag, like it’s a lucky draw, and lift out the soft black lace. One by one, you add each little piece – the bra cups your breasts, lifting them just the right amount. The panties sit on your hips, garter belt just above, hooked onto thigh-high, lace top stockings. And finally, the robe.

You tie it loosely at your waist, leaving it just open enough to reveal the balconette bra underneath. One last hazy look in the mirror, and you tumble back out into the bedroom and over to the door.

Your fingers clutch the gold handle, shaking a little. The cold metal bites against your skin, hot with adrenaline and determination. You twist, pulling gently on the door, and wander back to the living room.

The lights are still out, the room dark against the sparkling cityscape. There’s soft music playing, some seventies soul stuff. He’s on the balcony. The sliding doors open wide, sheer curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. His silhouette stands black against the glittering Eiffel Tower in front of him. He’s holding a whiskey.

You slip out from behind the door and let it close over gently, walking slowly across the soft carpet toward him. He can’t have heard you, you’re being too quiet, but he turns anyway, and spots you in the middle of the room.

His eyes rake down your figure, mouth falling agape. Whiskey almost spilling over from how limp his arms fall.

“Baby…” he whispers.

You take another step forward. So does Joel. Your hand reaches for the back of one of the chairs, tucked neatly under the dining table. You drag it along the carpet, setting it just in front of you, facing him, and stand back.

“Want you to sit.”

Joel nods, a voiceless Okay sneaks past his lips, and he sits back in the chair, placing the whiskey at his feet.

The song fades into a steady love song, string orchestra echoing in the background, slow, sultry. The smooth vocals fill the room, quiet and relaxing, and push you nearer him, rounding the back of the chair.

Your hands run over Joel’s shoulders as you curve around to face him, and slot in between his parted thighs. Watching as his eyes shift up and down your figure. Watching as his breath hitches, his chest shuddering anytime you move.

You’re ignoring the rise and fall of your own chest; nerves and desire and complete fucking disbelief at what you’re doing all fighting to break through. Your stomach is flipping, pulse jerking every time your eyes cross paths with Joel’s.

You nudge his legs open wider, lift his wrists, and place his hands on your waist. His fingers pull on the silk belt, loosening your robe until he’s slipping it over your shoulders, revealing every inch of lace and strap of satin to his lust-blown eyes.

“This all for me?” he asks, fucking…wonderstruck. His fingers dance along the garter belt, dipping where it clips onto your stockings.

You cock your head in a shrug. “You paid for it.”

He smiles. As if it’s Christmas and you just gave him the gift at the top of his wish list. And then you bend your knees, lowering between his thighs and dragging your hands down his front, stopping by his stiffening crotch as you go.

Joel hisses through clenched teeth, spurring you on. You palm him through his trousers, never touching his zipper, only letting him go so far as grinding his hips into your hands, before your palms slip down to his knees and you push yourself up.

Joel meets you halfway, leans forward to let your lips ghost across his. Your back arched, knees digging into the plush carpet, you trail your tongue from his chin down his bearded jawline, stopping when you reach the collar of his shirt.

And then you stand again, taking his hands and replacing them on your body. Anywhere on your fucking body. Feeling him on you is like feeling the soothing flicker of the fire after a walk in the freezing cold, and when his palms aren’t pressing against your ribcage, his fingers aren’t running between your thighs, that bitter cold bites back.

Joel hums, still taking you in through glassy eyes. “So…fuckin’ beautiful, babygirl.”

In response, you lift your knees, placing them one by one on either side of his hips. You settle against his body and push him back in the chair.

Your clothed heat lowers onto his waist, lace running across the rough fabric of his trousers, forcing a choked moan from your lips at the contact. Your skin alight, nerves burning with excitement and arousal, the slightest touch only fuels the fire more.

You grind down on him, hips rocking in time with the music. Letting his hands hold you around your back, letting him feel any part of you he fucking wants. His fingers knead roughly into your round ass, and he bucks up against your core.

You hover over him, running a hand from your stomach over your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits through your bra. And then back down again, to slip over the lace of your panties and relieve the tension there even if only for a second before you’re feeling down your thighs.

You link your arms back around Joel’s shoulders. “You gonna pay me back?” you whisper, head lowering to bury into his neck.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he slurs back.

You suck a mark into the hot skin, breathing against his pulse, “Think you do, daddy. You owe me one.”

His head rolls, bass of his laughter vibrating against your lips. “So fuckin’ slutty, darlin’. You want it that bad?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, lips still tight against his neck, fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt lower and lower.

Joel told Martha he needed you here only to keep him right. Make sure he got everywhere on time, make sure things ran smoothly. Drop off drycleaning, pick it up before he had appearances. Get him pastries from that patisserie he loves around the corner for breakfast. There’s an empty suite downstairs that he made her book for you – an almost three grand per night suite that you both knew the entire fucking time you’d never set foot in. All to keep up with the story.

The story that you’re here strictly on PA duty. Seeing him off in cars, making sure he gets back to the hotel at night. And that’s it. Not buying lingerie with his card, and putting it on for him, and mounting him in the living room of his suite. Not letting him slip your panties to the side and run his cock through your folds, balcony doors wide open, moans escaping out into the late Parisian night.

But now his hands are on you, really on you; strong, wide hands, slipping around your waist, pressing down on the lace of your lingerie, massaging the softest parts of your body and scooping under your ass to align you to his length.

And you’re letting him.

Your hands are sifting through his hair as he breathes you in, his nose buried between your breasts. Your back arches when he finally enters you, giving you what you need most in the form of his thick cock pushing up into your warm cunt.

Like there’s nothing new, or weird, or different. Like this is all you know how to do; all you’ve ever known about him. You’re not in the office; he’s not your boss. He doesn’t tell you to shred files or organize his schedule.

This is what he does. This. He asks things of you with his hands and you fold every time. He runs his lips along the curve of your breasts and peels the delicate fabric of your bra down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, flick his tongue across it until your head rolls back and you’re moaning his name to the ceiling.

“Make yourself cum, baby,” Joel breathes against your hot skin.

His tongue is swirling around your nipple. Teeth grazing the pointed bud. He’s grinning to himself as he does it. He’s fucking lapping this up.

“So pretty when you’re wrapped around me.”

And then his fingers are toying with the clasp of your bra, and as you sink down over and over on his cock, he lets the cupped lace fall to the floor, lips instantly returning to their place on your tits.

You hold his head there, looking down and watching while you slowly bounce on his cock as he kisses, caresses, sucks.

The pleasure boiling between your legs starts to spill over, your body unable to take much more without releasing. And when Joel mumbles against your skin, “Can feel you, darlin’, squeezing me so tight,” you let go.

Your orgasm, nearly four hours in the making, rocks through your body in tidal waves, throwing your head back. Joel’s arms keep you safe on his lap as you writhe, gasping and moaning his name until you can think straight again.

When you come back to, he lifts you up. Carries you like you’re made of diamonds through to the bedroom and lays you down on the soft mattress, calling you angel, telling you you’re the prettiest fuckin’ girl he’s ever seen.

He dips his fingers and traces them along your panties, feeling the mess you just made, humming in amusement. He asks again if this is all for him and when you moan out a desperate Yeah, daddy, he tells you he’s gonna make you cum again.

He takes your waist and flips you over, propping you up on your knees in front of him. He peels the white shirt from his shoulders, tossing it somewhere in the dark room, and asks if that’s what you want – to cum again. Yeah, daddy.

And when he asks who this tight little pussy belongs to, leaning forward to align with your wet mess of a cunt, your thighs spreading to accommodate the size of him, every fucking nerve in your body on fire: You, daddy.

“All mine?” he asks, pushing inside. He’s going slow. He’s making you answer him first.

“Y-yeah,” you whine, head falling forward into the bedsheets. “All – yours.”

“Spoiled, ain’t I? Such a pretty little pussy all to myself. You sure you don’t wanna share with anyone?”

“No, daddy. Just – want – you.”

Every fucking time. Every mindless, depraved time, you do it for him. Only for him.

You cum again on his cock before he’s even five thrusts in. His words send you hurtling over the edge by themselves; the massive dick burying itself between your legs is just a bonus – and something to let your walls clamp around when your back arches, chest pushes into the mattress, and your orgasm floods over you.

Joel rocks his hips slowly as you come down, cunt swollen and almost agony. His hands run from your thighs up around the globe of your ass, massaging gently. You push back, wanting more pressure from his hands, and his fingers slip against your tight hole.

You jut forward with a moan. A moan Joel knows all too well.

“Easy, easy.” He holds you steady, replacing his fingers against your asshole, pressing delicately. “You like that?”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “mhm.”

“Yeah?”

You’re nodding, though you know he can’t see you in the dark.

“Baby?”

“Yeah,” you choke out. Desperate. Depraved.

He lifts his hand and spits; you feel a bead of saliva dribble down your ass, only to be collected by the pads of his fingertips and dragged back up. Smeared over the ring of your ass, massaged into the sensitive skin around it.

“Daddy…” you moan, hips gyrating.

“’s a good girl,” Joel replies, “just relax, darlin’, you do that for me?”

You can hear in his voice he’s focusing. Eyes glued on your ass, watching as you open up around his first finger, pushing slowly inside.

Your whole body freezes as he enters you. Breath cuts short in your throat. Your mouth falls open, throat constricted around a moan.

“Breathe, babygirl.”

And you do. Well, it’s more of a gasp, a broken whine, and then a long, needy sigh, curled up at the end like it’s a request – a plea for Joel to keep going.

It’s tight. It feels…tender, and overwhelming, and good. More than good. Your hips move backward, pushing onto Joel; a swelling feeling overcoming you, the more of him you take.

“Good girl…” he whispers again.

You’re as fucking shocked as he is that you’re letting him do it – letting him slip inside both holes at once, exploring one while keeping the other content with lazy thrusts.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you tell him, body urging him to fuck you again.

So, he does. His cock picks up speed, finger knuckle-deep, curling around inside your ass. You’re gripping the bedsheets, whimpering softly into them, feeling your stomach tighten as your third orgasm begins to rise.

“Keep – doing – that,” you utter as his hips collide with yours, his thick finger picking up pace ever so slightly.

“Such a dirty girl. So fuckin’ dirty for me. You do this for all of ‘em, baby?”

The laugh you breathe answers his question. No, you don’t fucking do this – for anyone. You didn’t know until five minutes ago this was something you were into. It’s Joel. He’s the only one who could convince you – whether through his words, his expressions, or just his fucking body – to –

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Know you are, pretty girl,” Joel says, “let me feel you. Cum all over me.”

Your body collapses when your high takes over. Electricity thrumming through you, contracting around Joel’s cock and his finger. He coos you through it, whispers words of praise and filth in your ear until you’re no longer screaming, no longer able to hold yourself up.

He slowly removes his finger, soaked with his spit. You whine as it leaves you, missing the feeling, but it’s not long before his hands are on you again, flipping you back over.

He drags the clothes from his legs and pushes you up the mattress, slotting between your hips, one hand coming down to grip the lace front of your panties. He rips it, tearing the material off of your body in one motion.

You gasp, equal parts aroused as you are fucking outraged. You liked those panties. You wanted to keep ‘em.

“Fuck, Joel!”

He pushes back against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to dot kisses along your skin.

“Buy you more, baby.”

“This whole getup,” you moan, “it cost you a grand.”

He lifts his head. “Well, in that case,” he kisses your collarbone, “buy you ten more.”

Your eyes roll back and your head follows, sinking deep into the sheets under your body. You’re sure you know where this is going, what he’s about to ask of you. You’re not sure you can give it to him. Three orgasms deep, you can barely feel when he’s massaging your sex, never mind lining his cock to it and pushing the tip inside.

“One more, angel,” he utters, looking down to guide himself through your glistening folds. “Just one more.”

“Can’t, daddy,” you whimper, but he pushes your thighs up, bending your knees. It’s borderline painful, the stretch you feel when he’s barely an inch inside.

“Yes, you can. Know you can.”

He could fuck you and cum himself without asking you to – and you’d be okay with it. You know it. He knows it. Just a few tight, wet thrusts and he’d be coming undone inside you. But he wants to do it together. Loves the way you feel when you tighten around him, squeeze him, draw his release out of him. Loves the way your voices sound together, the way you grip onto him and pull him flush against your body.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, too. The way he looks when he’s deep inside you, eyes shut, focused on nothing except the pretty noises you make and the sweet way you wrap around him, warm and snug. So you let him take you to the edge again, throw your arms around him, and fall.

Hard.

The shock of it surges through you, stars burst across your vision. You drive your nails into his shoulders, scream out into the night, moans mixed with curses and gasps and – fuck it – cries of daddy loud enough that the thought of a noise complaint at your door floats through your mind.

Joel lets out a deep groan when he cums, filling your tight cunt with his seed, face still buried in your neck. Your legs untense, thighs slip down his waist and onto the bed, your arms unlink from around his neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your skin.

You’re panting, chest lifting against Joel’s. He pushes into the mattress and rolls off of you, dropping in a heap to the bed at your side. You lay like that for a while, waiting for the fluttering feeling to subside, waiting for any feeling to come back to your body.

Joel pushes off of the bed and dips into the bathroom, still groaning anytime he moves. Water runs for a couple minutes, a gentle whirring as he cools his face and washes up, and then he’s back in the bedroom, sinking into the bed beside you.

He props himself up on his elbow and runs a hand across your damp forehead, unsticking your hair from your face. Intimate, vulnerable. You’ve slept together four times now, and this is the closest you’ve felt to him.

You push down an ache, different to the one he just satisfied – four times over. No, this is deeper. Somewhere more hidden. An ache for him to hold you, run his hands down your back until your body feels like yours again. An ache for him to take you in his strong arms and keep you still, keep you steady.

An ache that feels…dangerous. An ache you want to disappear. Now.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you nod.

He studies you for a while, looking up and down your body, smiling to himself. This isn’t something either of you are going to forget for a while.

“What’s this?”

Joel takes gentle hold of the gold chain around your sweat-glistening neck, running it between his fingers until he’s holding one half of a broken heart.

“Notice you wearin’ it all the time.”

You take a deep breath before replying, watching as he looks at it intently in his hand. “My mom has the other half. It makes up a heart. We got ‘em when I was sixteen, right after…”

Joel’s eyes drift up to yours when your sentence crumbles. His soft gaze encourages you to continue.

“…right after my dad left.”

He almost winces.

You’d always hated Wednesdays. Wednesdays meant Math, and Math meant two hours of sitting in total confusion, dodging your teacher’s requests for answers and counting down the minutes until class ended.

But your dad told you that you should do well in it, so you were trying. For him.

One Wednesday, Miss Pepperman handed out the results of the previous week’s test. You’d scored well, maybe not as good as some of the others, but decent by your own standards. You snuck the test paper into your bag to take back home, show your dad. Make him…proud.

When you rounded the corner to your street, his car was in the drive, trunk wide open. Suitcases inside. You caught him leaving as you wandered by the beat-up Toyota.

Your mom wants you in the house, he’d said, a cardboard box of files in his clutches.

You tried to ask what the fuck was going on, but he’d yelled at you and thrown the box into his back seat. And then you brought up the test paper, twisted around to fish it out of your bag, like some stupid C would convince him to stay. He yelled louder, and you disappeared inside like a spooked cat.

Your mom was on the couch, face in her hands. She lifted her head, cheeks stained with mascara and tears. As you sat down beside her, you heard the engine of his car roll away. You never saw him again.

You don’t tell Joel all of this. He doesn’t need to know, and he doesn’t ask. Telling him about the C in Math risks telling him about the way your dad looked at you when you held up the crumpled paper, and that risks telling him about everything you’ve ever held back from saying to anyone, for fear of seeing that same bored, disappointed expression.

It feels like a hand you’re not quite ready to play just yet. An ace or two missing, only a couple of cards off of feeling confident enough to show him.

Instead, you shrug, and say, “That was…thirteen years ago now. And we just never take ‘em off. It’s like our little promise to, like…stay together, or whatever.”

He nods, letting the necklace rest back on your naked chest.

There’s something in the air between you. Quiet, unassuming. An understanding, though you’re not sure what of. But it feels comfortable, which you weren’t expecting when he asked the question. Nobody knows much about you and your dad – not even your closest friends. And here you are, naked and exhausted, letting the words tumble out to none other than your boss.

But he’s so blasé about it, so unperturbed by it that, if he hadn’t been the one to ask himself, you could mistake it for disinterest. He just listens, nods, and lets it pass over. Lets you drop it, when you’re done talking about it.

For the second time tonight, this time a little more sober but a little less guarded, you say, “Kiss me.”

And this time, he doesn’t ask you to speak French. Doesn’t make any witty quip, doesn’t warn you you’re walking dangerous territory. Doesn’t even hesitate, not for a beat. Just leans in, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses his lips to yours.

Warm, sweaty, almost quivering lips. Soft, and kind, and safe. You melt into him, wrapping both hands around his wrist, shutting your eyes and pretending just for a moment that you’re not teetering along a knife edge right now.

You pull back, losing your balance on the tightrope you’re walking, and Joel’s hand slowly drops from your face. His eyes ask if you’re okay, and you nod. I’m fine. This is fine.

“Alright,” he says, sitting up with a sigh. “You want a drink?”

You nod again. “Water, please.”

He strokes your thigh once and walks out of the room, leaving you in the quiet dark by yourself.

You bring your fingertips up to your eyes. Exhale deeply into the palms of your hands. Think about what just happened, and then tell yourself not to think much about it. Think about that fucking twinge in the bottom of your stomach, the one that felt like…yearning. And then tell yourself, fucking – order yourself not to read too much into it, or you’ll drive yourself up the wall.

Because the truth of it is: you’ve one more full day in Paris, and you highly suspect that what happened here tonight, is gonna happen all over again tomorrow. And that leaves room for that yearning feeling to come back. Resurface, like a silent predator in murky waters.

That won’t happen tomorrow. It can’t happen tomorrow.

You stand and throw that white terrycloth robe over yourself, heading for the living room.

----------

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[atlabeth]

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes. 

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides. 

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard. 

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die. 

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating. 

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down. 

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books. 

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud. 

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.” 

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.” 

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?” 

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?” 

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.” 

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?” 

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.” 

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?” 

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.” 

“How did you get that?” he asked. 

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?” 

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on. 

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.” 

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?” 

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments. 

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.” 

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.” 

-

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked. 

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.” 

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.” 

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.” 

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you. 

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused. 

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?” 

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.” 

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.” 

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.” 

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.” 

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!” 

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—” 

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?” 

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.” 

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.” 

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.” 

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.” 

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you. 

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know? 

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.” 

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness. 

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.” 

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” 

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”  

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both. 

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?” 

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?” 

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.” 

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?” 

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.” 

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.” 

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.” 

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.” 

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.” 

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.” 

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand. 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.” 

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.” 

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.” 

-

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.” 

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.” 

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.” 

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?” 

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.” 

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.” 

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb. 

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her. 

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.” 

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges. 

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.” 

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?” 

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”  

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in? 

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most? 

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.” 

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly. 

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.” 

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own. 

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked. 

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit. 

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented. 

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element. 

He wondered what you would think of Montauk. 

“This was one of those times?” he asked. 

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.” 

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool. 

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird. 

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened. 

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.” 

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?” 

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.” 

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.” 

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. 

-

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself. 

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again. 

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit. 

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly. 

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.” 

“Flatterer.” 

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.” 

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.” 

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”  

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?” 

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could. 

“I look like a stock photo.” 

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.” 

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?” 

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.” 

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said. 

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.” 

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?” 

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.” 

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agreed. 

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.” 

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.” 

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.” 

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.” 

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.” 

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.” 

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h” 

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—” 

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.” 

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.” 

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.” 

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.” 

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke. 

Either worked for you. 

-

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list. 

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.” 

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.” 

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.” 

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!” 

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus. 

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!” 

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.” 

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.” 

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—” 

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!” 

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.” 

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.” 

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.” 

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” 

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything? 

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.  

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.  

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.” 

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”  

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.” 

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan. 

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that. 

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest. 

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over. 

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground. 

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid. 

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help. 

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary. 

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium. 

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black. 

[misty--nights]

So I'm watching the show yet again (usually I struggle watching shows, I don't know how I've managed to watch it twice already and still want to watch it a third time), and here are some things that I've noticed in episode 1, after the read more because it got longer than expected.

Charles calls himself the brawn and the protector of the two, but it's Edwin who goes all serious and says "I would not let that happen" when Charles asks what they'd do if Death came for them. I'm sure/concerned that he'd try to fight her if she ever came to take them...

Edwin knits!! When they are wearing their disgusses to get the demon out of Crystal he knitts while Charles reads the newspaper. Granted, you can only see him doing for a short moment, so I don't know if he's doing it properly, but I like to think he is. I have many thoughts about this, but it would take over the whole post. I'm still willing to make a whole post for it if anyone is interested but yeah. Bottom line is, Edwin can knitt!

The tone of voice that Crystal uses when she first wakes up in the Agency and in her walk with Charles is really different to the tone she uses the rest of the season. In hindsight, it's pretty obvious that is her mean girl tone, but still, I just think it's a nice detail.

Edwin takes Crystal's coffee cup when she takes the mail? We've just stablished he's not going to drink it, so is he just being petty? Is he going to throw it away or hide it just to be a nuisance? Is he investigating what she got? This boy, I swear...

I know people have pointed out all the Clue boards in the closet, but there's also a ouija board there? Hilarious. Maybe some ghosts prefer communicating with that instead of speaking? Or Charles got it because he thought it was funny and then never got rid of it?

I like that the thing that convinces Edwin to take the Becky Aspen case is Charles asking if he's going to let a little girl die. But more importantly, the title card right after that says "three flights". I've had this question for a bit, but what do they do during those flights? Do the boys spend those just standing in the hallway next to Crystal's seat? Do they sit in the cockpit? Do they hide in the bathroom until someone comes to use it? Do they hope for empty seats they can use? I don't know, every possible version of their trip is so funny to me. I know ghosts don't get tired like alive people, but the idea of them just standing awkwardly off to the side for more than 10 hours is hilarious.

No big detail here, I just love Crystal's purple coat thing she wears in this episode. Never really noticed that it has like flowers embroidered at the bottom, and the color of the whole thing is so nice.

"Maybe he's our fucking demon now." Crystal I love you, that is one of the funniest lines in the episode. I also really like that she gets to be angry and scared. Even if later Jenny talks her down from the worst it, it's not her anger that she points out, it's the fact that people are just like that and how the boys act is nothing personal. Her anger is not directly attacked (except by Edwin, but that's just him being petty), because she gets to be angry about all that's happening to her.

The flashback to Edwin's life at St. Hilarion's changes the video aspect (is that the proper term for that? It makes the screen square like in older films is what I mean.) Also he card for that flasback specifies "Edwardian England" even while having the date at the bottom. I don't know, it made me chuckle that they felt the need to clarify the era even while having the date there. They don't put "modern day England" for Crystal's flashback.

With the way the cat reacted to the sardine, I'm willing to bet he would have told Edwin everything without the binding spell if Edwin had a few more fish for him.

When they're talking behind the shop and Crystal says she gets angry, Charles looks down and takes a bit to respond. I think this is the first time he relates to her. The first time he can call that pull twards her something more than mere attraction. He has this very vulnerable look when she says it and then immediately shows her his parents and tells her something he's never told anyone before? This boy saw his anger in someone else and thought maybe it's fine for him to be angry too.

Is it a trick of the light in the scene where she meets Niko, or does Crystal have a septum piercing?

"If you're sticking around, you gotta let us in." Charles, I love you, but you are the last person who should be saying this. Specially after that sad look he gets when Crystal says it must be hard not being able to talk or hug his parents. You just agreed to what she said, as if that were the truth of why you check on them, what do you mean "you gotta let us in"? (I do get that they haven't known each other for long so he's not going to open up about all his trauma, but precisely because of that, it's wild for him to expect her to do it.)

I never noticed Charles quickly returning the mirror to normal when Edwin comes. I'd noticed the audio cue for the mirror changing back, but I never noticed Charles moving to do it and he looks so panicked about it.

Considering how Edwin is about touch, the fact that he lets Crystal take his hand when she tells the that the case matters is huge.

Why are they planning down at the shop when they have Crystal's room all to themselves? Besides the ambiance, of course. I think Jenny's reaction is completely justified.

Esther leaves her turntable on when she goes to the post office. Is it for Monty? The atmosphere? Did she just forget?

Not a new discovery, just a reminder of something I really like. There's this very specific editing thing (like the quick cuts between the instruments and then the opened lock, I don't know what to call it) that they do pretty much every time Charles picks a lock / opens a door, and it makes me very happy each time. The sound they use for it is perfection.

Edwin's attention to detail is insane. The fact that he can recall one cupboard is further forward than it was in the plans is really impressive.

Charles sounds so done when he throws the magic backpack. "Put her in the bag-of-tricks backpack." Man, I can hear the eye roll in that sentence. Good to know Edwin isn't the only bitchy one in this relationship.

And that's it for episode 1. I think I might do this for the others as well as I watch them. It was really fun to do, and it forces me to pay attention to the details, so I think it's worthwhile.

[hestzhyen]

Already Waist-Deep

Hi internet void. Please allow me to kagura my bachi all over the place for a little bit. I've got a bad case of the brain worms about these boys that I haven't even had together for 20 chapters yet, so let me ramble a little bit about why they're already so compelling as not only a duo, but a ship.

First off, a caveat. Kagurabachi is a Weekly Shounen Jump (WSJ) action series. That means that if romance is ever addressed in the series itself, the protagonist is going to end up with a girl. Doesn't matter how underdeveloped or lackluster his relationship to her is, or how flat she is as a character. Invest lightly and come along for the ride without any expectations of m/m ships becoming canon. (That said, it might not be the worst thing in the world for our MC to end up with a girl in this case- more on that later.)

Second, I don't really ship that often. Not seriously at least. I need more than two guys being close with each other to start wanting them to be a pair, y'know? So I hope you understand the intensity of the material Hokazono-sensei has been giving us the past few chapters. I am on the brink of going all-in on HakuHiro/ChihiHaku in less than 20 chapters, it's that insane.

Third, I will be talking about current developments without marking potential spoilers. There are only 38 chapters out as of writing this, but there are at least two reveals that would be better appreciated going in blind. Spoilers for the oneshot Farewell! Cherry Boy are also a thing near the end.

Okay? Okay. Let's begin.

Who's Involved? First up is our protagonist Chihiro Rokuhira, an 18 year old boy and the son of a famous swordsmith. He was raised with genuine love and care by his father (no idea what happened to his mom yet), taking care of their day-to-day life while learning his father's trade. And from the very first chapter he is steeped in tragedy as he witnesses his father's murder and life's work being stolen. He then sets out on the long, fraught road of vengeance.

Sounds grim and not exactly compelling, right? Especially when this scene from the first chapter was making the rounds being memed to death:

But there's much more to Chihiro than meets the eye. Flashbacks to his time growing up show him being a natural caretaker to his dad and their fish- cooking meals, keeping his dad on task, and so on. We see glimpses of underlying tenderness when he meets and rescues Char, a sweet little girl with her own tragic past. And we get some insight that he might not be quite as resolute as he's projecting himself to be when he faces off against Sojo, a fan of his father who worships a much different version of the man than Chihiro knew. And now the Rakuzaichi arc has definitively shown us that Chihiro isn't as collected as he seems. One of his father's killers easily cracks the mask and shows us Chihiro is really just a desperate kid with a heaping helping of trauma, then Tenri's pointless sacrifice shakes him to his core. But despite it all he's still doing determinator things in the most badass way possible. Chihiro has layers, man. A lot of them. And the best way to understand our protagonist right now is through his foil: Hakuri Sazanami.

Who is Hakuri? A 17 year old boy with a special lineage, but he's a loser who needs to be saved from common thugs. A pathetic guy who latches on to Chihiro and doesn't take the hint when Chihiro literally runs away to ditch him. An utter failure to his family. A lost puppy looking for a samurai.

Hakuri Sazanami is one of the best goddamn foils I've seen in shounen manga yet.

Let me tell you all the ways I love the writing around this kid and Chihiro because MAN I can't even contain all these feels.

What's Going On? From the start, Hakuri looks like he's just another person for Chihiro to bail out. He witnesses Chihiro's awesomeness fighting Sojo in the streets and decides to imitate it by standing up for a little girl being kidnapped. Instead of winning out, though, he's captured and kicked around. Once he's coincidentally rescued by Chihiro he's immediately all-in on tagging along and keeping Chihiro in his life. Look at this pitiful guy:

Chihiro decides to hear him out due to his connection to the Sazanamis, the Big Bads of the arc. He's initially put off by Hakuri's intensity but brings him along anyway, as Hakuri's insider information regarding the Sazanami family makes him useful. Then, as Chihiro wavers under Hiyuki's assault, Hakuri is truly useful for the first time:

And it only gets better from here. We see Hakuri hanging off Chihiro's every word trying to be as useful as possible for his samurai, striving to do anything he can, though it ends up with him forcing Chihiro to give up his precious sword Enten in exchange for his life. (Yes, Chihiro "buys" Hakuri from Hakuri's own family.)

Later on during the invasion of the auction is where things go into overdrive though. We see their character arcs start to invert and shape each other's as the action unfolds and Hakuri's own tragic past comes to light, eventually awakening him to his special abilities. Chihiro's bravery and strength help him pull this off and finally defeat the older brother that tortured him in the name of "love". Hakuri ascends to being the strongest Sazanami since the progenitor that started their line centuries ago. He's the Special Boy!

All this to say that Hakuri Sazanami isn't just a deuteragonist or a foil…

He's the goddamn heroine.

Kagurabachi's Built Different What makes a shounen series heroine? Firstly, they support the main character without getting involved in most of the heavy fighting. A shounen heroine will usually at most have a fight against another girl while the Big Event is happening nearby, making sure the main character has the spotlight. Second, most of the value they bring to the protagonist's story is emotional. They encourage him, validate him, provide a bit of a refuge for him to safely let his guard down. They can get him to express softer emotions that he wouldn't normally show around others. Third… they're the love interest. Hinata, Orihime, Chichi, and now… Hakuri? Really?

We know the third one will not happen for HakuHiro in canon. But what about the first two? Well, let's recap what Hakuri has done for Chihiro so far.

Hakuri can defend himself now, but his most useful ability is access to an interdimensional storehouse. Given the way that his magic works -he needs to prioritize maintaining the storehouse or using Isou- he'll likely be the means of keeping the enchanted blades safe rather than a front-line fighter. Support-centric character that will still get some combat time against lesser opponents: check.

Hakuri's given Chihiro some much-needed direct emotional validation that he hasn't gotten from anyone else yet. ("You saved me." … "That katana suits you.") Hakuri's words fortify his resolve and Chihiro later pays it back by trading Enten, an incalculably precious sword and memento of his father, for Hakuri's life. He even uses the same phrase when asked why he'd do that for someone as worthless as Hakuri ("That guy… saved me."). He later reaffirms that Hakuri's encouragement gave him the courage to let go of Enten in the first place:

This is AFTER we see Chihiro open up to him for the first time just minutes after they met:

Chihiro's been a stoic good guy with buried trauma up until this point. But somehow Hakuri is the first person he outright admits his fears to- not Shiba, not Hinao, but the freaky kid he just rescued. Emotional support pillar: check.

"Well that's not enough!" you say. "That's just taking some moments and doing that thing you said you didn't do- smushing boys together just because they're close!" OK but look at how Hakuri thinks about Chihiro:

Chihiro has been his inspiration from the first time he saw him. It can be read as admiration and hero worship, but doesn't that feel like selling Hakuri's feelings short when remembering how devoted he's been since they first met?

And just look at Hakuri's face here, he's beaming when Chihiro busts in to save him just like he believed he would:

Mostly, though, Chihiro is the one who gives Hakuri strength in the moment. The Ice Woman broke him free of his family's mentality, and now Chihiro gives Hakuri what he needs most: hope. Something he never had before, which doomed his relationship to the Ice Woman; he couldn't prove to her that there was more to life than despair because that was all he knew… but that completely changed once he met his samurai.

And that's been their thing through this arc. Each one is giving the other the vital thing they needed to grow and keep going. When Hakuri was struggling at the start, Chihiro was his guiding light towards a better future. And when Chihiro struggled in the aftermath of Tenri's cruel death, Hakuri pulled him along so they could finish the job. They're in perfect sync now as they take down the Rakuzaichi. Don't just take my word for it, check out Hokazono-sensei's color page for the most recent chapter (38): https://twitter.com/KaguraShiba/status/1804898273859445181 From Hella (KaguraShiba): >Kagurabachi Ch 38 JP Color Page 「阿吽の呼吸で薙ぎ払え」 "Two people dancing to the same beat, mowing down enemies" >阿吽の呼吸/"Aun no Kokyuu" Synchronized breathing >Or when people are the most in tune with each other >阿吽の呼吸/"Aun no Kokyuu" Is a Buddhist expression in Japanese meaning something close to "harmonizing in sync together" >"Aun" is also used to indicate an "Aun relationship", indicating an inherently harmonious relationship or nonverbal communication Yeesh. But holy shit it's paying off. In chapter 38 these boys are already in harmony- Hakuri registers Chihiro into his storehouse (yes they both "own" each other now) and sends him in to fight his father. During the fight, Chihiro trusts Hakuri to interpret his intent and it works. Chihiro wordlessly tags a bunch of grenades with his spirit energy and Hakuri pulls them out into the real world to bomb the shit out of the Rakuzaichi audience. They didn't plan this beforehand- they had no idea Kyoura had fucking grenades laying around in there. But they're close enough to understand each other's thoughts already. Peak soulmate material right there!

What's got me most interested now, though, is how they will pull/push each other after this arc. Chihiro's going to be focused more than ever on tracking down his father's killer and the swords. But Hakuri, well… I think it would be very interesting if he starts to become a despair monster. A reflection of Chihiro's state at the very start of the manga where nothing mattered to him except exacting revenge. We're seeing shades of this in the most recent chapter (38) where he's slumped over and obviously depressed about how all this is turning out. He's going to end his family's cruel trade but at what cost to himself? Will Chihiro see some of himself in Hakuri and be able to help him out, or at least promise to find relief from the pain together? Obviously a Bad End where Hakuri takes himself out is in the cards given Hokazono-sensei's previous works but… on a meta level, I think his storehouse ability will keep him relevant. I mean yeah he could be used to slap Chihiro across the face by showing what a bad end for his revenge story could look like but I think (hope) that won't happen. [Note to future self: I give you permission to go batshit insane if Chihiro stops Hakuri from committing sudoku.]

And this is where my brain worms are coming from. In just under 20 chapters we have an extremely strong set up between them- so much room for them to teach each other; push to grow and pull back from the brink when tragedy strikes again.

But where's the real meat, you ask? The actual literary analysis in this gushing rant about how much I love these boys I barely know? Well, fine. Buckle up because it's time for some…

Daddy Issues The Rakuzaichi arc really digs into comparing Chihiro's affection for his dad to the Sazanami family structure. And I gotta talk about this because it's the key aspect that makes Hakuri such a brilliant foil.

First off, the similarities. Chihiro and the Sazanami kids are all intensely devoted to their fathers. All of them were raised with love while learning the intricacies of their family trade. We see the Sazanami kids getting praised for doing well, just like Chihiro. Hakuri and Tenri were even told they were special. During the arc, the Sazanami kids put their lives on the line to defend their dad and family legacy with zeal matched by Chihiro's intensity to avenge his dad. When he falls, Tenri's final words are apologizing to his father.

It's truly heartbreaking that Kyora never really loved them back.

You see, the Sazanamis are one of those families that put their lineage and craft over everything else. Every member of the family lives for ensuring the Rakuzaichi auction goes off without a hitch. One of the clan is chosen to inherit the storehouse, and the rest are trained to defend it to the death. Kyoura, the current patriarch, has no compunctions about letting his son Tenri die just to delay Chihiro and the gang for a few more minutes. He had his kids put their lives on the line to defend a storehouse door that he had already broken in secret- making it completely useless. And he's equally cold when it comes to children who can't perform to standards like Hakuri. Once Hakuri (apparently) fails to manifest an ability for sorcery, Kyoura turns a willfully blind eye to the abuse his kid starts to suffer. He knowingly lets Hakuri be tortured by his older brother for years and does nothing, then disowns him once some "merchandise" kills herself in front of him. There's no love for children who can't be useful to the family's traditions. And yet any love that does exist between father and child is manipulated as seen here:

What the fuck man.

So Hakuri is going into this arc firm in his conviction to end his family's evil ways. He's been abused physically and emotionally for at least five years straight; he knows his father doesn't love him. But even now when he's about to bring the whole place down with Chihiro, he's still yearning for his dad's praise. Hakuri's family is fucked up bad and he needs a hell of a lot of healing after all is said and done.

Meanwhile, every flashback with Chihiro shows us that he was truly loved and cared for like every kid deserves. His dad wasn't perfect but he was exactly what a parent should be- kind, understanding, and supportive. His goofy advice helps Chihiro to this day. Chihiro and his dad had a genuine father-son bond that was broken by tragedy and thus Chihiro's desire to do right by his father's memory is driven by grief, first and foremost. So when we see his expression after Tenri's death, we know why he's so badly shaken. They clashed out of love and duty for their fathers, supposedly prepared to pay the ultimate price. The Sazanami version of "love" is a very different, much less wholesome version than the kind Chihiro knows… yet no less effective in terms of motivation.

You can practically hear his heart breaking for Tenri. And his inner thoughts in the next chapter say it all: he was naive to think he could enact revenge while holding fast to the kindness he grew up with. Chihiro's kindness that he learned from his father is a liability to him in this situation. In contrast, Hakuri knew from the start that he had to finally give up the last of his familial affection. He hardened his heart and steeled his resolve to do whatever it took.

Both Chihiro and Hakuri knew what it was like to be loved. Hakuri's version might have been twisted, but it was still painful to have that bond suddenly broken. And now we've seen Edgy Revenge Man's inner softness hold him back while Silly Soft Guy has a heart colder than the arctic. I go absolutely feral comparing and contrasting their situation and how their positions have reversed. Yeah, Chihiro's going to be the action guy who saves the day but Hakuri's the reason he can do it. Hakuri's surprisingly strong core has pushed Chihiro to put his feelings aside to get things done. I can't fucking wait to see how this arc ends and where these boys end up. What will the the most important thing Chihiro takes away from Hakuri here? I hope it leads him to be a bit more openly compassionate and soft around his allies- Hakuri's situation being a lesson in not letting your family's bonds overtake everything else. For Hakuri, well… I think being around Chihiro, Char, and the rest will help him heal. But I hope it's Chihiro that keeps him stable as the person that can relate to him best.

Meta Ramblings Whew. Now then… Yo dumbass writing this, we're not even 40 chapters in yet. Don't you think it's a bit too soon to start getting hyped for a character that could be shelved as soon as the arc is done?

It's interesting to see the themes and characters Hokazono-sensei's reused in Kagurabachi. From the four one-shots available to read, it seems like he's is interested in writing about characters encountering tragedy through various kinds of love. I think it's intriguing that three out of the four end in despair, and the one that doesn't still involves a fair bit of sadness. It's a bit early to say about Hakuri's circumstances since this is only the second proper arc in the series, but given Hokazono-sensei's past works, I think Hakuri is here to stay. For one, Hokazono-sensei seems to love his color-coded foils (Chain, Enten, Roku no Meiyaku). Farewell! Cherry Boy also explores the circumstances of a blindly loyal boy who feels useless being given his first chance to prove himself… I think this is a theme that Hokazono-sensei is revisiting in a more in-depth fashion with Hakuri, so there's a good chance there's more planned.

And just for fun, if we want to look at his romance stories… Madogiwa de Amu is all about one person being the other's greatest hope, their reason to persevere in the face of hardship and seeing that reciprocated in turn. Complete with the weaker person becoming strong enough to protect the person who inspired them first. Hmm. (Hopefully it doesn't end the same way though 'cause man, I can see Hakuri doing something similar right now…) It's also not impossible for Kagurabachi to touch on love given we see Farewell! Cherry Boy incorporating love as the crux of the narrative, despite starting as a gangster story. The true MC is quite like Chihiro as well in terms of motivation and action plan.

I also think it's impossible to overstate how important it is for Chihiro to have a friendly peer to compare to, narratively speaking. Char is a woobie, Shiba's an uncle figure, and Hiyuki is set up to be the aggro rival/frenemy. Hinao could become more than a side character but it seems unlikely at this time. Chihiro needs someone his own age to just be himself with. And that, I am 99% sure, will be Hakuri. A guy who's suffered just as much as he has. Someone who knows what it's like to have a famous last name and lineage to protect. An equal who's unquestionably on his side, who will lift him up when he's down, yet will still need some protection and care. So yes I think Hakuri will be sticking around to be Chihiro's foil. He might take a back seat at times as heroines do, but he'll still be there to support our sad boi through thick and thin.

Anyway that's why I'm ready to jump feet-first into this ship. It's got all the hallmarks of a wonderfully strong bond and I hope we get to see these boys comforting each other for years to come. If you read all this… thank you? Maybe get yourself checked for brain worms? And tell everyone you know to read this amazing action-packed tragedy laced with BL crack cocaine.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. IV

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jungkook snaps, lots of family drama, mommy issues, oc being accommodating, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues but trying to be good hubby, jk gives oc more hope!

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: this week's flashback hint–nothing like a little dilf rivalry! Also, this chapter gives more of a reason why jk is adverse to parenthood 😶 My closing notes offer some explanations. Let's go! 💞

<< ch. III ༓ ch. V >> | series masterlist

For the first 22 years of your life, you had zero partners.

Most people labeled you as being jaded, stuck up, or having too high of standards for it. But fuck it. Why couldn’t anyone accept that you weren’t about to settle down with the first interested guy just 'cause of peer pressure?

Of course, you'd likely end up with someone eventually. You have gone out on a couple of dates before. Yet they were never that promising. The men, or excuse you, boys roughly your age did nothing to woo you. They just wanted a late-night fuck at 1 a.m. or a nice, cute girl to take home to their mom.

Not that you gave a hell what others were into or anything, but you had other agendas. Getting married and birthing children before kick-starting your adult life was not in your playbook. Neither was jumping into bed with random guys every week.

So you haven't had much luck in the romance department. Good riddance to it!

What you were waiting for was a gentleman. Someone that was responsible, mature, and experienced. Bonus points if they were into the arts. But it was rare to find a suitor of such quality–who wasn't ridiculously off-limits that is. Obviously, some other strong-willed man or woman sunk their claws in before you got the chance. Drats.

4 years ago

“I can’t believe you,” your best friend giggles. “You’re going to that fancy new art exhibit downtown just to run into Dr. Kim! You’re so shameless __.”

You roll your eyes and stick your plate in the dishwasher. You’re best friend Na-Rae has been one of your closest friends since your second year of undergrad. Now into your third year of friendship, you consider her as close as a sister.

Unlike you, Na-Rae is utterly fascinated with all things STEM-related. She’s currently in med school aiming to become a surgeon, which is one of the many reasons why you and her are currently roommates.

“I’m telling you one more time, I’m not going for him. I actually want to see the paintings which should come as no surprise to you. Dr. Kim just happens to be going too.”

Na-Rae leans against the kitchen island, tongue in cheek. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself, babe. But how, may I ask, did you know he’d be there? Are you stalking him online now?”

“Of course not. I’m not a creep Na-Rae.” You throw her a dirty look. Honestly, she really thinks you’re some obsessed fangirl. Like yes, Dr. Kim is really hot for an older guy, and the fact that he’s basically the second dean of the art department? He may or may not visit you in your dreams. Especially after studying for Dr. Jeon’s fifteen million econ exams.

Now there’s a guy who definitely knows how to stick it to you.

“Besides,” you continue. “Dr. Kim doesn’t have social media.” You don’t notice how contradictory that statement sounds until your best friend lets out a sinister cackle.

“Looked him up did you?” She hits your arm, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. “I knew it! I knew you were stalking him!”

“I–I am not! Stop that!” You ignore her looks, seeing it best to avoid eye contact altogether.

"Iovmererdhimalkingintheallway."

"C'mon, you know I can't understand that. You did what?"

"I over…heardhimalkingintheallway," you repeat, skirting most of the sentence again.

"For the love of might __! Why are you being so–"

"I overheard him talking in the hallway!" Once you blurt the words out you scurry out of the kitchen. "Gotta get my laundry, bye!"

"Uh-__!" Na-Rae races to catch up to you. "Explain to me how that's not being stalkerish!"

You grab your laundry basket and set it next to the dryer. "It wasn't intentional alright? I happened to be passing by at the right moment." You pop the door open, stuffing your clothes in the basket. Na-Rae casually watches you from the doorway.

"Right," she says. "Just happened to overhear Dr. Kim's whereabouts on a Friday night and just happen to be going to the same place. But definitely not planned because the dress you're currently trying to hide from me isn't meant for him to coincidentally see. Oops, my bad."

You release said dress from your hand aggressively. "Dr. Kim is at least a decade older than me and he's a high-level faculty member of the university. I'm not seriously trying to present myself to him in any romantic sense. That would be so inappropriate! And as far as the dress goes, it's the grand opening tonight. Everyone's wearing these kinds of things. So no, you're wrong."

"Very well, if the lady persists," Na-Rae shrugs, checking her phone. "Shoot, I gotta get to work in fifteen but I expect a full report later!" You watch as she hustles to her room.

.

The exhibit's doors open at 7 pm sharp. The line to the entrance runs about three blocks which is far longer than you were expecting. Most people came in groups or pairs, making you wish Na-Rae didn't have to work tonight.

But you're right about this being a formal affair. Everyone is dressed to kill. Some lean more towards black tie while others choose to show off their highly expressive, avant-garde nature.

You look down at yourself, suddenly feeling quite underdressed. You're wearing a simple black dress that's cinched at the waist. If one were to look close enough they'd see hints of gold throughout but no one would get that close.

The artwork itself is stunning. Varying from abstraction to impressionism, you get a sense of pleasure in taking in others’ inspiration. Many of these works are from locals in the area which is one of the main reasons for the number of interested guests. You wonder if anyone here knows the artists directly.

You make your way to the next set of pieces, studying the first in line. You immediately recognize the particular style as post-impressionism. It's clear the artist has great influence by Van Gogh evident from the similar large yet controlled strokes.

As you continue observing the work you feel a second body, looming close beside you. Naturally, you shift your eyes over to see the source. His hair brushes past his face as he leans closer to the painting.

After about three seconds you quickly dart your eyes away, careful not to stare. The man appears to be equally as focused on the work in front of him, as you were. It'd be a bit embarrassing if he noticed your gaze and snapped at you for it.

The man next to you slowly straightens his bent-over posture. He moves to the other side of you, viewing the next painting on your right. You barely catch the slight glance he gives you in the process, now able to see his full face.

It's not Dr. Kim–it's Dr. Jeon.

This isn't weird, you try convincing yourself. It's perfectly normal for you to see your professor in public. Besides, who knows if he actually recognized you yet. No need to make this awkward if you simply pretend not to notice him.

You think about whether to sneakily slip away or continue to feign ignorance until…

"Are we going to keep side-eyeing each other or can I say hi?" Dr. Jeon lightly smiles at you with playful eyes. His glasses are different today–thinner design. And oh, is that a...lip ring? Is that new or has he always had it? You don't remember seeing it before. "If you keep staring at my lips like that I might get shy."

"Ahha, Dr. Jeon!" You fight the stirring of your nerves. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare or anything. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Please, __. Outside of class, Jungkook is fine. Though I understand if that's a little out of place for you."

A little?! You've been calling Dr. Jeon, well, Dr. Jeon for the past two weeks. It's unlikely that will change. "If it's alright with you," you start, hands restless. "I'd like to stick with the usual."

Jungkook nods, giving you a brief once-over before replying. "Sure, no problem. I'm hoping you'll warm up to the idea though. Dr. Jeon makes me feel old." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I'd ask what brings you to this art exhibit but I think I have the answer, given the amount of sketches I see you doing while I'm lecturing."

Oh god. Your professor calling you out for both gawking at his lips and doodling in class under the span of five minutes? You've never wanted to disappear more. The sketches you do aren't meant to look like a distraction and honestly, you didn't mean to gawk at the tiny ring, it was just there!

"Sorry," he continues. "That wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive. I really don't mind as long as they don't hinder your learning. Dr. Kim does the same thing whenever I'm talking to him too. I've summed it up to an itch all you artists have. I've come here in support of him actually." He gestures to the collection of paintings next to you; the post-impressionism ones you were intent on studying earlier.

"Oh wow," you gasp stupidly, following his gesture. You didn't even clue in to read the artist's name.

Stigma by Kim Taehyung.

"I had no idea Dr. Kim had some of his work displayed here. I feel so foolish. I was viewing his pieces for I don't know how long just a few minutes ago."

You were sure Dr. Kim was attending the exhibit for the same reasons as you. But while it was partially right, you obviously missed the biggest point.

"Don't fret," a deep, honey-coated voice comes from nowhere. "Any admirer of my work is a friend of mine." He strolls up to your left, Jungkook still on your right. "I don't believe we've met yet. Dr. Kim Taehyung." He tosses a hand out for you to shake.

Oh no, no no no. You hope to death you won't start sweating. You've never been this close to Kim Taehyung before and he wants you to hold his hand! "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Kim. I'm __," you say, struggling not to burst inside.

Okay, so it's not exactly holding hands but it's close enough. His fingers are so long and elegant. You can't wipe the grin off your face.

You're squeezing it now, stop stop stop. You mentally slap yourself and retract your hand as naturally as you can. Thank fuck no one can read your mind.

"I'm sorry your name is __?" Dr. Kim freezes as if suddenly needing to remember something. When you think he's recalled whatever it is he needs, he flicks his head over to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. "__," he repeats aloud.

"Uhm, yes..." You're definitely missing something. You look between the two men, apparently both intent on keeping you in omnious silence. What's so facinating about your name?

Taehyung whips his head back to face you, flashing a blinding grin. "You're the little artist in Jungkook's class aren't you?"

That's what this is about? He looks far too proud of himself for connecting those dots.

"Yeah I take ECON 602 with Dr. Jeon." You make the mistake of looking at Jungkook mid-sentence. For some odd reason, his previous mirthful expression has changed to one of bitter distaste.

"She isn't little," Jungkook intrudes, nearly snapping at the older man. "Little is what you call a child and it's inappropriate for you to call her that."

What the hell....? How is Dr. Kim calling you little bothering your professor more than you?

"My apologies," Taehyung says. "But she's your student, right? The one drawing during your lectures? I think she drew you once. Exquisite may I add. You captured his pissed-off look so well." He gives you a pleased look but you're too sheepish to form a reply.

"Yes, I wasn't having the best day. Can I talk to you a moment Dr. Kim? We'll be right back __, just a second." Jungkook grabs the older's arm, yanking him out of your earshot.

"What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?" Jungkook spits. "You're making my student uncomfortable."

"Aha, so she is the artist. Look I admit that using the term little was a misstep but I think she's alright. I apologized didn't I?"

"Yeah sure, but she's not alright." He makes air quotes. "Since you've also made it seem like anything she does in my class, I spill to you! Don't you see how uneasy that would make someone feel? Especially me being her professor. She could be thinking I tell you weird things too! See what you've done?!"

"But Jungkook," Taehyung drawls, face scrunching. He's not sure what's gotten Jungkook so worked up. "You do in fact regurgitate everything to me. You've been talking about her for the last week just to one-up me that she's an artist. Now I get to have a face to the name. I'm kinda tickled about it but also, what weird things are you referring to?" Taehyung pauses, eyes going as big as a saucer. "Oh my god, bro. Are you–"

Jungkook grunts firmly, shutting the man up at once. "Absolutely not Tae. Whatever you were about to say, it couldn't be a bigger no. All I'm asking is for you to keep the private things private. I don't want you blubbering everything to her."

"Very well," Taehyung hums, stealing a glance at you behind Jungkook's shoulder. From where he stood, he had an easy view of you moving down the line of paintings. You stop in front of each one, curiously examining them the best you can. "However, she's quite intriguing. I can't make any promises that I'll hold myself back."

"You better be talking about her mutual interest in art. She's my student and we have an obligation through the university not to fraternize with any–"

"Yes yes, your student. I don't need a reminder of where my boundaries are, but perhaps you do....bringing up fraternizing and all." Taehyung moves past Jungkook, striding back over to you. "Whatever else can there be besides professional or academic affairs? Of course, we're keeping our witts about us Kookie."

Behind him, Jungkook huffs and follows his lead. Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face, he thinks.

Present

Dinner is rough.

Jungkook's parents showing up unannounced and uninvited throws you both in a very quick, downward spiral. How can two people have so much time on their hands? Retirement, that's how.

You try your hardest to keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but it's obvious the air has grown thick between your husband and his mother.

"Why didn't you come to the reunion last year?" your mother-in-law presses for the second time tonight. She clutches the napkin in her hand, anxious for his response.

Jungkook sits across the table. His posture stiffens at the question. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do. The reunion is always so close to when I have to go back to the university that I just didn't have the time."

A loud, impatient sigh comes from back across the table. "You didn't have the time or didn't make it? Honesty Jungkook, you expect me to believe that?"

When Jungkook doesn't answer, you and your father-in-law exchange troublesome looks. "Honey," Mr. Jeon speaks up, placing a hand on her shaky one. "You know how full the school year is for Jungkook. Don't blame him. Maybe he can come this year if we reschedule for a more convenient time." He pleads with his son, hopeful eyes.

"Stop helping him." She looks at Mr. Jeon and then back to Jungkook. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just want you there, you and __."

At that, you find yourself gripping your husband's arm from under the table. Jungkook shifts in his seat and stares dead straight into his mother's eyes. "Funny you say that," he seethes. You tug on his arm in desperation to calm him. "Seeing that you keep dropping by at random times throughout the year, I'd say you expect a great deal from us."

Mrs. Jeon immediately snatches her hand from your father-in-law's. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd come to the reunion. Or called, texted, or even emailed at this point. If it weren't for my efforts, I wouldn't hear from you at all."

"Please," Mr. Jeon pleads again, this time to both parties. "We're having dinner. Let's continue this later." He reaches for the bowl in the middle of the table but he's quickly ignored.

"You're right." Jungkook cuts. "Maybe I should come. Because it's one more way you can get what you want, isn't it? All those years of hard work so you can show me off to everyone."

"Don't you talk to me like that," Mrs. Jeon grits. "If I wanted to show you off it'll be when you give me a grandchild! I'm lucky to even have a daughter-in-law by now."

Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor and your arm snakes out from Jungkook's arm. Your husband stands at the table, Mr. Jeon follows suit. "Okay, okay, let's just–"

"Dad," Jungkook interrupts. "Can you please take Mom home for the night?"

"Are you okay?" you pop the question once your in-laws leave for the night, a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Mrs. Jeon looked completely bewildered, whereas Mr. Jeon looked deeply troubled; conflicted between wife and son. You have a feeling he has a better understanding of what happened than you do right now.

"I wish she hadn't come today," Jungkook plops on the bed. You sit beside him. "I'm sorry about what she said about you....I knew she was here for something."

You won't lie. When Mrs. Jeon mentioned being lucky to finally have a daughter-in-law, it stung. You detest being seen as an achievement. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that since she said it out of impulse. It was a tense moment," you say. "As far as what she was getting at though, it was for you to go to the reunion."

"No." He shakes his head and then glances at you. "It's not about the reunion. She only wants me to go so she can show everyone how smart and successful her son has become–all her doing of course. It's been like that since high school. And she wants you to go for a similar reason."

"I knew your mom had a bit of a thing for status but I thought that mostly revolved around her profession. Also, when she was talking earlier about you not keeping in touch she seemed more hurt and sad than mad. I think she really just wants you there."

"If she seemed hurt it's because she didn't get her way," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

"Jungkook."

"I'm sorry but it's true" He adjusts his position, angling himself to face you. "Mom's used to calling the shots– at work, at home, even with our neighbors growing up. You've seen how dad is around her. Yeah, he pushes back a little but at the end of the day, he does what's asked of him."

Frightened to ask the next question, you swallow hard. "What aren't you telling me Jungkook?"

He gently takes your hand from your lap, rubbing small circles on the knuckles. "Growing up, she was hardly around or involved in my brother and I's life. Most weeks, she and Dad would be at work, and we'd be with a babysitter or nanny. Dad did what he could to take care of us but Mom? All she would do is prune us to be just like her...smart, successful, and a dash more to make up for all the achievements she couldn't make."

"Jungkook...I don't know what to say," you murmur, trying to take everything in. "But your PhD–"

"My decision but her influence. Though she wasn't pleased when I said I'd be relocating ten hours away."

You remember him telling you this part before. His mother had a hard time coping with his reluctance to stay nearby. Maybe she did want him to follow in her footsteps. "Your brother didn't have as much pressure on him did he?"

"He did, but he still bends to her will. Except for the grandchildren part." Jungkook grimaces, averting eye contact. "I guess we have that in common."

"Hey," you urge him to lift his head. "Please don't feel bad about telling me any of this. If your picture of parents has largely been their absence and desire for self-fulfillment, then I understand your grounds for not wanting children. And as far as tonight with your mom, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's partially my fault for agreeing to host them for two days."

A pair of soft eyes rest on you in the dim room. The sun was near set now and all the light previously shining into the room had come from the window. If this wasn't a serious moment you might take a candid shot of your husband.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me __," Jungkook coos. "Don't ever think your kindness is a fault." He pauses then continues. "I still want both my parents in my life but I need to draw boundaries or I will completely snap and that's not something I want to happen. Especially since we have a possible baby to make one day."

"Hu–huh?" It's the repetition of the last sentence that makes you utterly dumbfounded.

Baby? Baby with Jungkook. One day?

Your husband draws his hand up to barely caress your cheek. "Why does that always seem to stop your heart?"

You catch his wrist mid-movement and throw yourself into him. Your arms link around his neck, chest flat against his. "It doesn't stop my heart," you say, playing with his hair. "It makes it beat faster."

"Wow." Your husband hugs you closer. "So cheesy." He leans back after, pressing a soft kiss to yours.

The two of you continue making out like teenagers again; Jungkook tumbling on his back.

"Kook." You lay on top of him, straddling his sides. "Have you ever thought about seriously talking to your mom about you know, everything you told me?"

Jungkook hums, before answering. "Somewhat but, I'm not sure how that'll go."

"It might be worth it instead of having little pieces slip out when you get into conflict...like tonight for instance."

"I suppose it's not a far-fetched idea. I'll consider it but it might take some more time. For now, I think I'll start by calling her tomorrow. I'm still mad but I don't wanna leave things the way they are now. Plus, I'm sure they don't have plans to go back home early. I'd hate for them to stay in the hotel the rest of these two days."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Mom." Jungkook holds the phone to his ear. "What are you and Dad doing today?"

"Oh, I–," his mom stutters from the other end. "We're not up to too much. I think your dad wants to swing by some bookstore around town. Uh, what about you?"

"__ at work and I'm home by myself. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out for brunch."

Jungkook hears his mom's tone lift. "Are you sure? I mean that would be lovely but if there are things you need to do then we don't want to...impose."

Mrs. Jeon's sudden willingness to check in is unexpected. Jungkook still senses traces of guilt but at least she's making somewhat of an effort.

"It's my treat," he assures, a little shaky. "I'm sorry about yesterday, mom. Maybe we can talk about it more in person."

"I think that would be good," she agrees simply. "Where and what time do you want to meet up?"

"Drive over here in twenty minutes. We can pile in my car and head over."

Once finally agreed, Jungkook ends the call. He opens his messages and shoots you a text.

Jungkook: Well I did it  😬 [sent at 10:42 a.m]

__: Proud of you ❤️ if anything happens, call me. [sent at 10:44 a.m]

Jungkook: I will. Also, sorry to bring it up but I gotta give Yoongi hyung an answer by tomorrow. Are we babysitting his twins Saturday? [sent at 10:47 a.m]

__: Ahm, it'll likely be the evening, right? [sent at 10:48 a.m]

Jungkook: Probably [sent at 10:49 a.m]

__: I guess, sure. We're going to need to put some stuff away though 😅 And get something fun for them to do! [sent by 10:51 a.m]

Jungkook: Noted but I'm sure they'll bring lots to do. Yoongi hyung is a big sofie for his girls. He buys them everything–literally 🫠 [sent at 10:52 a.m]

__: True. I have to get back to work now but love you xoxo [sent at 10:53 a.m]

A/N: Surprise! jk has mommy issues and they've has been triggered. Was hoping how he talked, thought, & acted towards her in the last chapter gave hints. On the brighter side, jungkook is another step closer to babyville! And next flashback will be something exciting! Lmk if you wanna be tagged or have thoughts in comments or asks! 💞

Masterlist

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper @ellesalazar @monbebe234-blog @parkinglot-nights @borahaexoxo @hobiswhore @kimseokjinbangtan @jjk97091 @mk-id @blueberry711 @givemethemaknaes16 @iammartian07 @jjkluver7 @itsdingdong @jiminshi20 @sweet-sourhotcoco @lovingkoalaface @starsinsky1999 @rockstarrgyu @chaconnelatte @lubtou

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[neo-zone]

Sweet Home 3 Official Trailer Personal Breakdown

Some little narration from monster Hyun-su with flashbacks of the last two seasons moment of them. Neat, I like it

Yi-kyung's daughter seems surprised (and kinda scared). Maybe when she realizes who her father is or she's realizing how bad the situation is in the stadium once it's already too late to go back to her peaceful garden? But who knows

Alright, how we go from monster Hyun-su having no sense of privacy at the last episode of season 2 to a scene of him and Eun-yu laying down separately like a divorced couple sleeping on different beds in season 3?

I guess the scene where Hyun-su parted with Eun-yu is after the night attack or well whatever, the main point is it's before the time skip. Also this is most likely the last time we see him with his best hairstyle before he went back to his older one and wearing some fancy clothes because why not. As for Eun-yu and Chan-young, maybe they went back to the stadium? But I don't know

What's this last step of monsterization Eun-hyeok mentioned? I thought it's just stop at the infected regaining full control over themselves after 15 days and got a cool superpower (although most are just variations of fleshy kinda icky stretched limbs, no not you Hyun-su your wing is cool) 🤔 Second power-up stuff, maybe?

So monster Hyun-su attacking Chan-young might have just been a red herring (gladly because whatever the reason they fight it does not make sense for both characters). There's another nasty murderous monster near the hospital at night and Chan-young probably planned a suicide attack with the explosion because duh what else a feeble human like me gonna do against a monster immune to firearms. Monster Hyun-su ofc got his shared abandonment issue with Hyun-su triggered and his immediate response is unconventionally grabbing Chan-young away before he could do something reckless. Hopefully that's what actually happened

On the other hand, THIS (Hyun-su vs Eun-hyeok) is the actual fight (more like little brawl you saw on school tho before Hyun-su uses his wing). Does remind me that the first thing Hyun-su did after waking up in S2E1 is beating up Sang-won (though unsuccessful in the end because he's skewered like a kebab on the vehicle ceiling shortly after). I could see it as both reference and parallel with the scene I just mentioned: Hyun-su saw what he thought is a Green Home survivor he knew who "died" in season 1 and then got into fight with them inside a large vehicle. He probably thought Eun-hyeok went through a similar unfortunate fate like Sang-wook, so he fought him out of anger. Except Eun-hyeok is Eun-hyeok and his corpse is not possessed by someone else with a penchant of pushing Hyun-su's buttons *side eye to Sang-won*. Also he's very much alive and in control of himself. Notice that the outcome is also both of them talking in peace and some bromance bromance vibe

I just noticed that Hyun-su's wing is covered in fire! He's very much ok, so this is an improvement and could be vital in a fight against the monsters

I'm not sure how it really went when the Neohumans going to the stadium? Is it peaceful until the soldiers start attacking? Or is it attacking first before they comply? Or they start attacking after the time skip? Once again, Sergeant Tak, I know you 100% don't trust that motherfucker, so it's not too late to burn Sang-won with your gasoline stock. And make sure not even his ashes remain this time. He's kinda slippery so make sure he does not slip away and find another corpse to possess for the third time

You could see how obvious the "I don't wanna be here" look on the facility girl's face when the Neohumans gang are on the stadium. Poor girl

"Oraenmanieyo" (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠) ah, Hyun-su finally met with Sang-won again after ages. Can't wait for the unlimited stabbing and flirting 👀 Their long overdue meeting probably happened during the epic showdown at night between Hyun-su & Eun-hyeok (& others if there's any who's willing to die) vs evil Neohumans for the final battle, because it's on night as well and there's fire

Um so what's going on between Yi-kyung and Hyun-su? Whatever it is, I have a bad feeling about it, just like their fight last season

Please do tell me or correct me in the reply if I still missed something (ofc outside the repated scenes from first teaser or ones I had discussed in the previous breakdown) or wrong at something. Thank you

[fluffysucker]

Bad Things

Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: Violence. Fighting. Brief mention of torture. Steve is alive and well.

The only way out was to awake them. And you did.

A/n: Heavily influenced by oxytocin by Billie Eilish. No like you will find lyrics throughout. Listen to it while reading, please.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Main Masterlist

You were sure that if you weren't driving the motorcycle, your legs would be bouncing, your hands would be shaking, and your palms would be sweating. But you were focusing on the road ahead despite feeling like you were driving on autopilot. You may not look like it, but you were a mess. Internally, at least. Anxity from the plan, danger of the situation, horrors from flashbacks, and uncertainty of the results. You were bitting your lips that you were close to feeling the metallic-tasting liquid on your tongue.

The darkness that grew, the further you got close to the agreed upon location, wasn't helping either. For someone who did this for a lifetime, you were spiraling. You wished you could cancel everything and come up with something different, but you couldn't.

Can't take it back once it's been set in motion.

You started to regulate your breath, take control of your mind, and keep your heartbeats in check once you saw the warehouse. It was now. There was no going back.

You stopped the motorcycle abruptly, causing the sand and dust around you to fly away. You took one last breath before taking the helmet out.

You got up and steadied your posture. The suit was never comfortable on your skin. Today, you felt like it was crawling on your skin, trying to devour you. You hid the suffocating feeling and put the act into action.

If you only pray on Sunday,

Could you come my way on Monday?

Confidence and peril were displayed. A strenuous look on your face. You were back in her.

"I thought you weren't coming." His voice annoyed you so much that you wanted to cut his throat open.

"I gave you a word, didn't I?" You came to a stop with enough distance between you and him. Even your voice was different in your ears.

"It's not like you had many choices." His laugh sent shivers through your body that you were able to hide.

"I always believed in your intelligence, moon." You pulled your hands into fists to stop any visible reaction from coming out of you.

The name was only associated with corruption and cruelty. Something the man in front of you strived for.

"With both of your capabilities, we will go back to the top of the world." The evil smile was more telling of his intentions than his disturbing words.

With the mere mention of him, you felt the air get thicker, the wind blowing harder, the stars dimming their lights, and the rocks and pebbles shaking on the floor.

He was here.

"Great. We didn't have to wait long for him." The man almost clapped in excitement.

In the sea of the darkness of the night and the void you were in, he appeared. His black suit made him almost unseen in the darkness of the night. But his heavy footsteps made him known.

The golden in his arm reflecting the light of the stars and the mask covering all his face except the eyes were making him even more fearful.

In person, he was much more terrifying than the stories and myths.

However, the crazy man didn't think so.

"Would you look at that?" He said once that the two of you were standing next to each other. You wanted to hold his hand, seeking any sort of comfort and reassurance, but you knew it would blow out your act.

"The Winter Soldier and Wicked Moon. Together and back at their home."

Dugal, the man speaking, had been the bane of your existence for some time now. Every mission, every warehouse, every file, and every piece of evidence all trailed back to him.

The manic, who had been obsessed with bringing Hydra back to life,.

With the right allies and calculated steps, he was able to achieve most of his plans in secret, but why show yourself now? Why draw attention to you now?

Because it was time to get Hydra's greatest weapons back.

You and your husband.

You and Sergeant James Barnes

Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier.

You and Bucky shared the same life. Kidnapped by Hydra, injected with the serum, erased and brainwashed, trained to maximum efficiency. You reached levels of skills that were unmatched.

Despite the different start, you and Bucky were the faces of the same coin.

You were taken a bit after Bucky. Hydra had the goal of making both of you into its lethal duo. Unbeatable and unpredictable. You and Bucky became the ghost story for decades. Never once seen or traced.

You were a myth that terrified all.

And for decades, you spent all your days with Bucky, or who you called soldier at a time, because you didn't know his real name. Nor did he know yours, and he called you Moon.

You shared a cell. You trained together. You were sent on missions together. You were tortured together. You were used to each other's screams and pains. You were the same person in many ways.

While Hydra was blinded and happy with your success rate and obedience, they failed to notice the deep connection that was forming between the two of you.

The comfort you found in each other. The conversations without words. The accustomedness. The long eye contact and gaze The gentle touches that only you provided each other with. The worry and panic if one went on solo missions.

You understood each other. You trusted each other. You empathized with each other. You prayed for each other's freedom.

You loved each other.

So, looking at Bucky with questioning and worried eyes above Steve Roger's unconscious body after you disobeyed the direct orders of eliminating Steve and following Bucky to save him from death by drowning, Bucky knew he could never leave you. He took your hand and ran away.

Other people wouldn't stay

Other people don't obey

You and me are both the same

You should really run away

It was a long and bumpy road. Gaining back your memories and learning how to live. But you held each other's hands. And in the face of all the hardships, you stood together.

You fought it all until you finally settled into your shared apartment in Brooklyn. Almost ten years after escaping Hydra.

You thought life was finally good. You knew who you were. You got back your identities. You were healing bit by bit. You finished therapy and were officially pardoned. You were allowed on missions, but more importantly, you were allowed to turn down missions. A luxury you and Bucky never had.

You were so happy for Bucky, who got to have his bestfriend back, Steve, and make a new one, Sam. You were happy that one of you could have someone, especially after finding out that you had nobody, which made you the perfect target for Hydra in the first place.

But being the good people they were, Steve and Sam instantly took you in like family. They could easily tell how much you meant to Bucky. Even from the first day. Whether on the bridge or in Bucharest, The uncontrolled urge to protect you despite being perfectly capable of looking after yourself. The care and admiration in his eyes whenever you were around or your name was mentioned. All and more signs that exposed Bucky's feelings for you.

They were more than happy when Bucky told them that you got married on the very long, overdue vacation that you went on.

You were everything to Bucky's. His love. His life. His rescue. His salvation. You were his reason to keep going.

While he felt bad that you had to go through the tough life you had, he couldn't imagine how his life would have looked if he had never met you.

So when the danger of Hydra taking you away from him arose with Dugal's appearance, Bucky almost lost his mind.

Dugal seemed insistent on taking you and Bucky back. He was destroying places, terrorizing, and hurting innocent people. Dugal heard you were trying to be good people, so he played on your conscience. He was pushing you and Bucky towards this moment. The moment you caved and gave up. The moment you returned to Hydra.

So, with his knife on Cass's neck, you surrendered. You promised to meet him and do whatever he wanted. And you promised to bring Bucky as well. He wanted the both of you.

And you listened.

Here you were. In the suits you thought you would never put on again. Triggering the two people you buried so deeply within. In front of the warehouse of an enemy, you fought for and against your whole lives.

"This is your home. This is your purpose. Not fake heroism. You were made to serve the greater good. To protect and serve Hydra." Dugal's voice made its way to your ears.

"You belong to Hydra. And Hydra only."

'Cause as long as you're still breathing

Don't you even think of leaving

Not gonna wanna look away, look away, look away

You're gonna wanna get involved, involved, involved

And what would people say, people say, people say

If they listen through the wall, the wall, the wall?

You kept the stoic expression on your face, refusing to let him see the effect his words had on you.

The door of the warehouse opened, and walking out of it were Dugal's two trusted men that you saw everywhere with him. Nedward and Alexios. They stopped behind him.

Following them, hundreds of agents came out of the warehouse. They surrounded you and Bucky in seconds. You looked at Dugal, confused.

"I want to make sure you are still the best. I want to know where to pick up from." His smile was wicked and filled with bad intentions.

"Call it a test. A test of Wicked Moon and The Winter Soldier's abilities." His wicked smile wasn't flattering.

You got into a fighting position quickly, not willing to lose this. You felt Bucky take position, too, his back turning to you. You were back-to-back, moving in slow circles, assisting the situation.

And once the first agent threw the punch, it was nonstop.

I can see it clear as day

You don't really need a break

Wanna see what you can take

You should really run away

While the agents largely outnumbered you, they were at a disadvantage. You and Bucky fought like one. You had a never-seen-before fight style. You designed it so that you used each other's strengths to the full and utilized the weaknesses as power points. You used your full bodies in fighting. You were familiar with each other's bodies and movements. You grabbed weapons that were strapped to the other's suit. You twisted around each other to reach as many targets as possible. You trained until you perfected it. No flaws. No mistakes. No room for lacunas.

It didn't take long before the last agent was down on the floor. You felt like it was harder to breathe. There was a ringing noise in your ears. Your hand wanted to start shaking. Tears were rushing to your eyes. You were having a panic attack.

Memories of missions and assignments you did throughout your life It all looked like this. You standing above the fallen, waiting for your destiny to be decided by an evil organization that thought of you as an object of killing.

Dugal's voice gave you a sense of where you were and the situation around you. Quickly, you pushed your emotions inside and regained your focus. A trait you learned from your days at Hydra. Human emotions were never well accepted by Hydra.

You shook your head as you looked at Dugal, who was clapping slowly.

"Excellent. Great job." He moved a bit towards the both of you.

"It seems you haven't changed. Still the best." You succeeded in his test.

"You did cost me all the agents in the base. But we will bring more." Dugal was proud of the two assets.

"So it's only us in here?" You were hoping to get a specific answer.

"Yes. Tomorrow, I will bring agents and recruiters. Also, scientists who know how to treat and handle great weapons like you. This will be Hydra's biggest base." Dugal seemed excited for his plan.

However, once the words left his mouth, chaos erupted everywhere.

Bucky caught the shield in his hand as Sam and Steve landed on the ground and attacked Dugal. You and Bucky moved to Nedward and Alexios. Each taking on one.

Cars and vehicles appeared everywhere, lighting up the deserted place.

This was the plan all along.

No matter how much time passed, Hydra's men would always have something in common. They were arrogant. They had an ego big enough for an entire population. And that made them stupid. That made them vulnerable to mistakes.

You and Bucky knew that more than anyone. So the plan was to trick Dugal with your alliance until he was defenceless. It was risky, but it worked.

You only let go of Alexios once handcuffs were secured around his wrists. Same with Bucky and Nedward. You turned to see Sam and Steve holding Dugal until Torres handcuffed him.

"You think you won?" His words were more direct towards you and Bucky.

"You think you can ever escape this? You think you can be free? You are delusional. Hydra will never die." Dugal continued. Torres handcuffed him, letting Steve through him in one of the more armored cars and strapping him more.

"Cut off one head; two more shall take its place. Hail HYDRA!"

Steve closed the door of the car.

They weren't planning to cut off one head. They were planning to burn down the whole bunch. No mercy. No stopping until they were all gone.

Once his voice was muted and you couldn't see him anymore, you couldn't hold up any longer. You sat on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to get hold of yourself, trying to reconnect, trying to disassociate from what just happened.

Like you, immediately after the car started to move, Bucky threw the mask off his face, finally breathing. He hated everything about this mask. Trapped like an animal behind it. Deprived of any form of humanity.

He prayed he never had to put on again.

"You okay?" Sam asked his friend, worried about the mental toll this whole act may have had on him.

Despite having his nephews being the ones in danger, Sam was against this plan. He cared about you and Bucky dearly and didn't want to know how stepping back into your assassin personas would hurt your healing. You had come a long way.

While your quick response to save his nephews and willingness to do this for them touched his heart immensely, Sam couldn't help but feel like they should come up with something else.

But both of you insisted, and it worked, but was the cost expensive?

Bucky nodded. They were okay physically, at least.

Bucky turned around to see you still sitting on the sandy ground, face in hand. He knew it wasn't just today, but the whole thing. Hydra still haunted you, messing with your progress. He understood.

Bucky sat on the ground next to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling into him and letting you lay in his laps, both of your legs on the side of his thigh. You nuzzled into his neck, holding his gear in your hand. You wanted to disappear in him.

"It's over. You're fine. You are okay. You are safe." Bucky's voice whispered in your ears, the end of his long hair touching your face and his hands wrapping up your back and waist.

You felt the tension leaving your body a bit by bit, making yourself only focus on Bucky's voice and letting yourself breathe. You knew you were surrounded by people, but you didn't care.

You only cared about Bucky right now.

You moved away from Bucky so you could look at him.

"We are okay. We are safe." You said to Bucky.

Because you cared about Bucky more than you cared about yourself. You loved Bucky more than anything. Bucky was the reason you were still alive. Bucky was your everything.

You wanted him to know that he was okay, too. You both survived this. You weren't back in that cell. You were going to your home.

Being the good-hearted person he was, Bucky always felt responsible for you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier. That's how the spark between you kindled. His instincts to protect you and care for you took a big part of him. And that made you fall deeper in love with him.

But you loved him just as much, if not more. You wanted to protect him from the hell you went through. Because he didn't deserve it. None of it.

The bigger burden of today wasn't the possibility of falling back into your old selves. It was the possibility of losing your partner to Hydra and watching them lose themselves once again.

You both came in with one goal. Protect each other to death.

And you succeeded. You were fine.

Bucky looked at you with love pouring out of his eyes. Bucky didn't understand how, after so much evil, he was still able to feel such strong emotions of love and adoration. But you melted him and lived in his heart. You were printed on his soul.

He nodded with a smile. You were okay. He leaned in and kissed you. It was a slow and gentle kiss. A reminder that you were both still yourselves. You were free. You were okay.

"Let's go home." You spoke once the kiss broke.

Home. Bucky was going home to the city he grew up in. He was going home to a place he had chosen to live. He was going home, where he would take a shower and lay on a comfortable bed. Bucky was going with his wife. Bucky was going to hold on as you both got rid of the remains of tonight. Bucky was going to hold you as you both drifted to sleep, dreaming of your future together.

Hydra didn't win. You were okay.

[romanarose]

how would the boys react to me referring to them as my baby daddy (with no pregnancy in sight) 🤭

Okay listen first of all. How dare you stress them like this. dont they got through enough.

second

Stephen

His eyes go wide

For a second he's a little confused. Maybe he feels like its back in his 'insomnia' days and is like... did I miss something?

Then he sees the smile twinkle in your eye and he realizes you're joking, making him relax and chuckle.

"She's a cheeky one, isn't she lads?" He might ask rhetorically. For the rest of the night as he fights off questions of oh your having a baby, when are they due, oh no baby? are you trying? He makes sure to turn to you.

Sometimes you catch him across the room in a conversation and he pretend glares at you and you just know what he'd being asked.

Think's it's hilarious as you drive him home, both of you laughing so much it's almost dangerous to be driving.

Jack

Immediately knows your fucking with him

Laughs and does you a one up.

"Well, it's either me or the other two"

This goes over the heads of everyone, and now he made you look like a whore among your own group

beat at your own game

play stupid games win stupid prizes

You spend the night trying to embarrass each other more

"He thinks the baby is his, but he barely made it inside before cumming so, who knows"

Next party, he introduced you as his "first wife"

Mark

Why would you do this to him

He's just a guy

Isn't he under enough stress?

You quickly tell him you're joking

Dude looks like he's having flashbacks to 'Nam

"Oh! Your... not?"

You assure him if you were, he would be the secod to know. Well, third. After you and the baby.

He's more confused now you're losing him he needs a smoke.

Outside you're like???? What's wrong baby?

he's like... "well what if you actually were pregnant would that be so bad??"

You said no that wouldnt be bad....

He suggests you start tonight

*Proceeds to rail you in the bathroom and cum inside 3 times because he's got god on his side*

ANYWAY

[marvel-ouss]

The Way I loved You

Charles Leclerc x Reader, Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: italics are flashbacks, the timeline is unreliable (Charlotte and Charles are dating and Zak is still McLaren's team principal), mentions of cheating, nicknames in French and Italian, "y/n/n" means "your nickname", screaming, fighting, English is not my first language

Type: fluff and a bit of angst Inspo:

Reader pov

Time goes by and you can’t even feel it. If a year ago you had told me I would be dating Arthur Leclerc I would literally laugh in your face.

I would never imagine dating my ex’s brother, never in a million years. But it end up happening.

I dated Charles for three years, all our friends and family thought we were getting married some day without them knowing, those were the best years of my life, of course it all went south on the end of the third year.

-

Lewis organized a drivers dinner or something like that and Charles as a f1 drivers was expected to be there. He told me the latest he’d arrive was 11pm so he didn’t keep me here alone for too long since Arthur was out with some friends as well.

It’s 3am Arthur arrived one hour ago and not a single glimpse of Cha, he didn’t answer the phone or replied my texts so I was getting worried. I got up from my bed and headed towards Arthur’s bedroom and knocked on his door “Thuthur?”

“Get in y/n/n” he said just loud enough for me to hear on the other side of the door.

I got in and sat on the end of his bed, I could tell I woke him up “Do you have any news on your brother?” He checked his phone “No, he hasn’t answered my texts yet.”

“Alright, thanks Thuthur I’m sorry for waking you up, sleep well” I kiss his cheek and leave the room. As I get to the living room I sit on the couch and open Twitter to see if there were any updates. After a while of swiping trough the timeline I see a video of my boyfriend with a girl I could recognise, Charlotte the first girl I met and could call my friend when I moved to Monaco.

I was left speechless. I could not believe my eyes while the video of my friend and boyfriend kissing played on replay. I could feel the tears starting to fall down my face.

I felt betrayed. I didn't even notice the time passing.

I wake up from my trance when I hear the door unlock. There he was, the man I swore to be my night in a shining armor. The man I loved the most.

“Hi bab-“ “Get out Charles, I don’t want to see you” I don’t even want to listen to his voice, because I know I will forgive him in a blink of an eye. We’ve been here before he fight all the time, for stupid things but this, now this was serious. This was the first time he cheated, and only to make everything better, with my friend.

“What’s wrong babe?” his calmness usually soothes me. Unfortunately all his calmness right now was making me furious.

“Don’t call me babe, not after tonight!”

“Babe I can explain” he widened his eyes and approached me.

“GET THE FUCK WAY FROM ME” I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm down.

“Y/n, listen to me!” He says going after me.

“I don’t want to listen, Charles! You went out, you didn’t say a word and I was left worried the entire night!” I kept screaming, I was so angry I started tearing up “I understand you want to go out with your friends, enjoy you're youth and have fun but the least you can do is send me or Arthur a message!” I checked the time on the kitchen’s clock and continued “It’s 5am and I haven’t slept because I was worried! I thought something might have happened to you! Just for me to go on the internet and see you with another woman!”

“Babe, I can expla-“ I take a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water and say: “No you can’t!”

“Please listen to me!” “I won’t, tell Charlotte I said hi, now leave” he has a shocked look on his face which means I was right, the girl in the video I saw earlier was indeed my old friend.

“The silence says it all. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, when I wake up I’ll make my bags and leave” I say sipping in my cup of water.

“Are you crazy? You are not going anywhere! Not before we talk!” I could tell he was getting desperate. This was all his fault in the first place.

"Now I'm the crazy one?" I turn my back I head to our bedroom so I could get a pillow and a blanket.

Charles enters the room after me and closes the door.

“Please Y/n, let’s talk, I need to explain everything to you, it was a dumb mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. I started drinking and I felt needy but you weren’t there! When I looked at her all a could see was yo-“ “Please Charles, shut up” “-u and I just wanted to kiss you and hug you, but you weren’t ther-“ “SHUT THE FUCK UP! I can’t listen to you anymore! I’m done with your excuses! At the end of the day I’ll be the one to blame because I wasn’t there, and the jokes on me.” I make my way to the bedroom door and open it.

Arthur’s door is open and he is resting his side on the doorframe. “You good?” He asked in a cautious tone.

“Sorry for waking you up but your brother’s a dick!” I make my way down stairs. I could hear Arthur talking to Charles in French but I just went to the couch, laid down and eventually fell asleep.

-

The next morning I packed my things and left, I stayed at Lando’s house for a while until I had the money to buy my own house. I had some money in my savings for as emergency and this was the perfect moment to put it to use. I met Lando a long time ago, when I first came to Monaco, four years ago, it was with the intuition of becoming a f1 photographer, and that ended up becoming true, I was a photographer for McLaren during one year. Zak had a lot to say about Daniel Ricciardo so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

Danny has a heart of gold and he didn’t deserve half of what he went through on his last year at McLaren.

After leaving McLaren I did some jobs here and there but settled as a Quadrant photo editor and a APM Monaco main photographer. Even with two jobs I still have time for myself, when they need me they give me a call and I go as fast as I can.

It was easy making the money I was missing to buy a house and not even 3 months later I was all settled in my new apartment.

-

Lando puts the last box we brought down from his apartment on the table. I bought a two bedroom apartment in the same building as Lando.

“How could you do this to me? You can't leave meee” Lando said with a fake crying voice.

I burst out laughing “Landoo, stop with the drama, we’ve talked about this. You have my phone number and I’m just two floors down!”

“Oh right I forgot about that part! Seems like I’m not getting rid of you that easily.”

“Lan, I think it’s more the other way around.” We stay silent and the next second both our laughs fill the apartment.

"Sorry to ruin the mood, how are you feeling with all this situation?"

"Honestly I don't know. It feels weird. this is the first year in almost four years that I won't be constantly at the paddock. I'm gonna miss the races and specially the people." I was starting to get nostalgic, thinking of all the moments I spent at the paddock, the people I met and all.

"You can always come by, you're welcome to come with me!"

"Yah, obviously!" I say in a sarcastic tone "The last thing I want to do is fight with Zak again, and I doubt I'll be welcome at the McLaren hospitality"

"Y/n you know a bunch of people, you'd be welcome in all the hospitalities! We'll really miss you around." He says hugging me.

"I'll miss y'all as well" I start crying with my face buried in his neck

"Y/n/n, please stop crying or we'll make a pool in the middle of your living room"

"Sorry" I say stepping away and wiping my tears away. "I'm gonna take a bath and settle in, talk to you later?"

"If you want me to go just say it!" he says stepping out the door "See you tomorrow miss" he kisses my cheek and leaves.

-

I remember being there, in the middle of my apartment, crying my eyes out because of some boy that decided to play with my feelings. Later that night Arthur called to check on me, after all we were pretty close. He came over that night and I got to say everything I was keeping inside of me.

Thur coming over started being something usual so we just got closer and closer.

“Mon ange, do you have any ice cream?” I hear Arthur ask from the living room.

“I only have vanilla ice cream, mio caro” I say from the kitchen door.

“You’re basic, as anyone ever told you that?” He says in a playful tone getting closer, holding my waist and hiding his face in my neck.

“Yes, you have, plenty of times!” I laugh.

“Forget the ice cream, let’s watch a movie and cuddle!” He picks me up and makes his way to the couch. “What do you wanna watch?” He asks putting my feet back on the ground.

I make my best puppy eyes. “No, Y/n, no, please not ‘What’s your number’ again” he says in an annoyed tone. We’ve watched that movies at least 20 times in the last few weeks. “Please, please, please, please, plea-” I keep the puppy eyes to try to convince him. “Okay, you won, but I choose what we’re getting for dinner!” “Deal” I say with a big smile on my face.

The movie ended and Arthur was about to order the food when he got a phone call from his personal trainer so he goes to the other room to answer.

“All good?” I ask when he comes back.

“Yeah, the f2 season starts in three weeks so I need to get in shape before the season start” we keep talking about the f2 season and how excited he is to start racing again. “You should come with me to the races, if your job let’s you of course” he says exited but insecure at the same time.

“I’m not sure, mio caro. Especially with your brother there. I don’t want to make things awkward” I say with a sad tone.

“You still don’t know, do you?” He looks really confused.

“Know what?” I furrow my brows.

“Charles is taking Charlotte to most of the races” and that’s it, replaced like a snap of a finger.

I got lost in my thoughts. Didn't realize I was crying until I feel Arthur hugging me. That was when everything fell down, every tear I held during 6 months, every feeling, all the thoughts, all the love I still felt for Charles. Everything.

"Mon cœur, you don't need to cry anymore, everything will be alright."

I lift my head from his chest "Arthur I'm not sure if I'll ever get over him, he was my first love, he's the person I spent three years of my life with" I sobbed "You don't understand what I'm going through, I loved him more than anything just to be replaced by one of my closest friends, I trusted them. I feel betrayed by the both of them. I don't know if I'm ready to see them together! Thuthur, what do I do?"

"Mon ange, trust me when I tell you that he loved you, he's also hurt by the break up and this was his way to cope, just know that it was real while it lasted."

"If he was hurt he would have tried again, he didn't even call!" I argued

"Of course he didn't. I told him not to." he said really calm

"Why would you do that?" I was so confused, I've been complaining that Charles never tried again but the cause of it has been invited to MY house by ME countless times.

"Would you forgive him? Wait, better question. Would you forget what he did? Or every time you were with him you'd get flashbacks of the video? Don't try blaming it on me because I know that that's what you're doing!" I didn't answer, I just started blankly at the rug on my living room floor. After a while Arthur stood up "I'm sorry but I'm leaving." he made his way to the front door and left. I knew I had fucked up.

-

That night I went to Lando's house to get his opinion on the situation. Lan always has the best advices! He told me that Arthur might care for me a little bit too much and told me that I needed to replace Charles to help with the pain. I still remember his words to this day "When your puppy dies you need to replace him to help you cope with the pain, it doesn't mean you'll stop loving him, he'll always have a special place in your heart but you need to allow another puppy some love as well" yes he compered my situation with puppies! What's in that's kids head, be forreal.

Me and Arthur didn't speak for three weeks, a sent him hundreds of texts but he didn't answer any. So I did what anyone would do: I went to Bahrain with Lando to talk to him.

-

"ARTHUR LECLERC GET BACK HERE!" everybody started looking at me and Arthur. He turns around and when I reach him I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in the crook of his neck to feel the smell of his perfume that I loved so much. "I'm so so sorry for not saying a thing that night, I was just left speechless. Everything you said was true I just didn't want to accept it. Then you left and it was already too late. I'm really sorry mio caro"

He hugged me back and lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders. Now we were face to face. "I forgive you mon cœur, I also apologize for ignoring all your attempts to talk to me, I'm sorry cherie"

I just couldn't resist him. After what Lando said and all this time away from Arthur, I knew I needed him in my life. It was not a want, it was a need. So I kissed him. I didn't care about the cameras or about the people around us. It was just me and him in that moment.

I separated my mouth from his to catch my breath and he followed to kiss me again. "Thur, can you put me on the floor please?" I whispered. "Only if you don't run away." he laughs before putting me on the floor. "Grazie mio caro" I smiled at him.

I looked at his beautiful eyes before getting on my tiptoes and kiss him again.

-

I went with him for most of the races, the time we spent in Monaco was enough to make the APM photoshoots and all the Quadrant editing could be done while I was away in other countries.

I avoided both Charles and Charlotte. I couldn't deal with any of them. I didn't want to ruin my happiness.

Right now I've been dating with Arthur for seven months and his f2 championship is going great. I still run from my problems instead of solving them.

Today is race day so there's drives, wags, cameras and teams everywhere. Me and Arthur were walking to the Dams motorhome so he could check the strategy before the race. "Y/n?" I didn't answer. I've been ignoring Arthur for the past 30 minutes cause since early this morning he decided that he wanted to challenge my patience. He only called me by my name (which never happens), closed every door in my face and disagreed with everything I said even if I was right! The man's insane! So I decided not to talk to him. we where passing the interview zone when he held my waist so I looked at him "Baby, Mon ange, mon cœur, cherie,-" he said burying his face in the crook of my neck "That's enough Arthur" I started laughing and he started tickling me. "Stoopppp, Thur. Please stop" I can't stop laughing. "Apologize for not speaking to me."

"Thur, stop please, I apologize" a say pushing is hands away from my waist.

"Come here" before I could even think he had already thrown me over his shoulder like a potato bag. "Thur put me down!" I couldn't breath from laughing so much. "Nope, I'm gonna carry you to the hospitality"

All the laughing and talking got interrupted "Arthur? Y/n?"

Charles pov

“The car seem-“ I stopped hearing the interviewer when I heard her laugh, the laugh I didn’t hear for so long, I always loved her laugh. I loved her smile, her eyes, her hair, well I loved her. I love.

I don’t remember much after I left the club on that night but I know we had a fight. What I did was wrong. More than wrong. I don’t know what got into my head! I love her. Even after all this time I still love her. Charlotte means nothing compared to her.

I wanted to go after her but Arthur told me do drop it, everything he says was right but I didn’t want to listen. Then I realised that it might be for the best. That’s why I went back to Charlotte so I could try to get over her.

But I need to respect her happiness. She’s with Arthur and I know he's good for her.

“Charles, are you with us?” I hear the interviewer

“Sorry, can you excuse me?” I turn towards what I believe was the dams hospitality “Arthur? Y/N?”

~

Hi everyone, this is my first time writing something a publishing it. So please be nice :)

Let me know if I got something wrong and let me know your opinions.

Should I do a part two?

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You… (Part 5)

YouTube!Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Lee Know scolding his Hyung, talks of feeling guilty, jealous, frustration, crying, family issues, Chan and reader not feeling good enough, Chan feeling like a bad leader, teasing, comforting, talks of mental and emotional abuse

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (Taglist open)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV

Chan, feeling guilty, had been standing outside the Maknae/Lee Know’s door. Ever since he himself got onto Felix about being so obsessed with Y/N’s channel, his little Aussie brother has been avoiding him. The only time he interacts with Chan is when he has to, otherwise he avoids him like the plague. It didn’t help that his mind kept replaying his conversation with Lee Know after said dance leader came over to talk to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashback

Lee Know has been pacing back and forth in front of his only Hyung. His emotions were all over the place. Chan’s eyes were following his every move. He was waiting for him to explode. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he did. Lee Know finally speaks up. “Do you know what I walked into, mmhm? Our son crying, because not only did his brothers tease him, but his own Father got onto him about something he can’t control.” He stops pacing and Chan’s body stiffens. His eyes were wandering all around Lee Know, trying to gauge what his next move is going to be.

“I’ve told you time and time before just how sensitive he can be when it comes to her. You and I both just how easy it is to get attached to something or someone. Yet you let your emotions control your actions and you took it out on someone. Did you even apologize like I told you to?” Chan looked away, making Lee Know scuff. “How am I not surprised?” Chan goes to open his mouth, but Lee Know stops him. “I don’t care how stressed out you are about this new comeback.” Lee Know finally sits down beside his Hyung. “Look, you know that I will always support you and have your back. I’ve always looked up to you Chan Hyung for how much responsibility you take on for us, and I know it’s not easy being the leader of a group. Sometimes you forget that you’re not alone and you have people who want to help you.”

Chan nods his head, trying to keep his tears at bay, but even his younger brother can see he’s struggling. Lee Know surprises his Hyung by wrapping his arms around him. At first Chan didn’t know if he was just imagining it or not, but then Lee Know speaks up. “Are you going to hug me back or not? Because I will pull away.” Lee Know teases him and that’s all Chan needed before he returns the hug. Chan lets a few tears slip from his eyes, holding on to Lee Know. “I’m sorry Min. You’re right, I do let things get to me. I guess the fight between them too was my breaking point.”

When Lee Know finally pulls back after some time, he looks up at Chan. “I know, but just remember that I can help you. You’re not alone.”

End of Flashback

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They ended up staying like that for a while. Lee Know telling him that if he apologizes to Felix, then that should fix the problem. At least he hopes it will. Finally knocking on the door, Lee Know opens it. “That took you a while.” He teases his Hyung, making said Hyung roll his eyes playfully. “Is he in his room?” His other half bobs his head. “He’s been in there for a while. He’s come out to eat, but then goes back to his room.” Chan acknowledges him before going over to his little brother’s room. He knocks on the door and hears movement inside. Footsteps reach the door before the door knob turns, revealing Felix.

Felix, seeing his oldest Hyung, goes to close the door, but he gets stopped by Chan. “Can we please talk Felix?” Before Felix can respond, Chan continues. “You don’t have to say anything. I’d like to apologize to you if you’ll let me.” Felix knew that he couldn’t avoid his leader forever, so he lets his Hyung in. Chan enters the room, taking in his surroundings. He could see that he’d been playing a game, but he had been listening to Y/N’s channel. He sighs to himself. Chan places a bag on his nightstand filled with goodies.

“I know that I can’t win you over by food, and I don’t expect you to eat it. I was at the convenience store and picked up some things I know you like.” Chan moves to sit on Felix’s bed while Felix goes to sit in his gaming chair. Chan looks down at his hands before saying what’s on his mind. “I shouldn’t taken my frustration on you.” Felix is avoiding eye contact with Chan and wringing his hands together. Chan continues, watching Felix closely. “With everything going on and me worrying about things I can’t control, the argument you had with Seungmin just topped it off. I let my own emotions control my actions and I shouldn’t have. It’s not fair to you.”

Chan wants to hold his little Sunshine, but he’s afraid he’ll make things worse than it already is. Then again it’s not like Felix is making it better either. He knew that avoiding the impending confrontation wouldn’t go away on its own. Felix takes a glance at his leader to see that he’s struggling too. Chan’s never exploded on any of his members before, especially not Felix. He knew that instead of trying to make things better for Felix, he made it worse to point where he’d locked himself in his room crying. When Chan learned this from Lee Know, he never felt as guilty as he did now. He’s always had this feeling like he fails at being a leader, but what he did to Felix really pushed him over the edge.

Chan looked over at the video Felix had been watching. It’s the same one that Felix loves. Chan didn’t express just how much he loved seeing her. The only one that knows is Minho. The dance leader found his Hyung crying while watching that video. Everyone knew, especially his members, how hard of a time he went through while training for those 7 years. He’s told everyone that his members saved his life and his members know this all too well. When he first found Y/N, he felt this emotion in his chest and it didn’t feel like happiness. He felt like she was trying to copy him and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He held some kind of resentment towards her, but one day it all changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan had been trying to avoid watching Y/N’s videos, but it was as if she was everywhere. From his FYP on TikTok to YouTube, even Instagram. From his members to the Stays that wouldn’t stop talking about how wonderful she was. It was as if the Universe wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t escape from seeing her beautiful face and those gorgeous y/e/c eyes that haunted him every time he closes his own. He could almost hear her contagious laughter in his head. You’d think he was going insane and needed to be put in an asylum.

He’d had enough with all of it. At this point he was ready to throw his own laptop at the wall. He couldn’t focus on the task at hand anymore. He’s never been this frustrated about someone he’s never met. She’s everywhere he goes yet not there in physical form. He wishes he could find some way to get rid of her, that way he could focus on making music for all these comebacks that are coming up. It didn’t help that all of his members were talking about the latest video she posted.

Finally having enough he forcefully pushes himself away from the desk and it’s down on the couch in the studio. He sees that she just recently posted a new video within the last hour or two. It had already gotten over a million views and 300 thousand likes. He presses down on the video before watching it. She shows up on the video and she looks like a wreck. Eyes bloodshot, nose and cheeks are red and puffy, tears flowing down her cheeks leaving tear stains. She looks like she has been crying for hours. Her hair is a mess, she’s wearing baggy clothes. But one thing that stands out to Chan is she’s wearing a Stray Kids hoodie while holding the Wolf Chan skzoo plush. All of Chan’s frustrations go flying out the window and he’s fully focused on her.

Her lip keeps quivering then she just breaks down and cries. All the times he’s seen her, she’s always smiling and happy, but he’s never seen her like this. He’d give anything to be there with her right then. To hold her and tell her that it’s okay. He doesn’t know who or what caused her to be like this, but he’d do anything to find out and make them pay for upsetting her. She gets up to grab a box of tissues to blow her nose. She had some snot running down from her nose, but he didn’t pay it any attention. “I’m sorry.” She finally says, lips still quivering.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Chan finds himself replying, though she can’t hear him. “I won’t lie to any of y’all and say that I’m okay, because I’m not. Everyone has problems in their life, including me.” She laughs a little. “I never wanted for any of you to ever see this side of me. But today had just been the worst.” She goes on to explain how broken her family is and that she always seems to be caught in the middle of the chaos. She talks about how her mother took her passive aggression out on her for years because she was the only child that wanted to visit her father after their divorce.

She was never physically hurt but was mentally and emotionally abused. How it took years for her to understand what actually happened to her while she lived with her mother and siblings. What caused her breaking point was an argument with one of her siblings and how no one ever seems to understand her. She had cried all the way home and even broke down when she got home. “Moral of the story, everyone has struggles in their own lives and everyone deals with them differently. So please don’t be like me and hold your emotions inside. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s not okay to feel like you’re a burden, because you’re not.” She lets out a shaky breath and Chan can’t remove his eyes from the screen. “Did I want you to see me like this? No, because I know that there’s people out there who will mock me saying that I’m just doing this to get attention. I’m not like that. I have problems just like everyone else. I’m not a robot, I’m a human being that has emotions too. I just act like everything’s okay, but in reality I’m not.” She holds tighter to Wolf Chan. “I hope everyone has a good rest of your day. I will see you all next time. Bye.” She tries to smile and waves with her hand that’s not holding Wolf Chan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You like that video too, don’t you?” Felix looks up at his Hyung seeing him staring at the computer screen. Felix looks at him and nods his head. “It seems I’m not the only one. Lee Know Hyung likes it too.” Chan’s eyes widened, “That’s his favorite too?” Felix nods his head. “He’s never told me that.” Chan replies back to Felix. “He told me when he came to comfort me. I didn’t believe him at first, but when I looked at him I could see he wasn’t lying.” Chan drops his head. ‘Maybe we all like this video.’ He thought to himself.

“I thought you didn’t like Y/N’s channel.” Chan goes to ask him why he would think that, but Felix beat him to it. “Come on, Chan Hyung. We all could see that you didn’t like her from the start. Every time she got mentioned, it was as if someone had kicked Berry. You can’t tell me that you liked her this whole time. What changed? Why get mad at me when the other members were talking about her too?” Chan closed his eyes trying to pull himself together. ‘I guess I wasn’t good at hiding my emotions like I thought I was.’ He thinks to himself.

“A lot happened.” He feels the bed dip beside him and he opens his eyes to see Felix looking at him. “Tell me. Please.” Chan nods before explaining everything. From his frustration with hearing about her all the time to the jealousy he felt because of her. To the video that changed his perspective of Y/N and all the stress he’s been under from the company. He laid everything out there for Felix, hoping that it would possibly explain why he’s done what he did. “I will always regret coming onto you instead of taking a step back and thinking things through. I didn’t realize until it was too late and by then I upset you when I shouldn’t have. I don’t want to be the reason why you cry, but I was. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I hope you know that I will never to that again.” Chan feels arms wrapping around him and respirates by wrapping his own around Felix. He tightens his arms around him afraid that Felix will disappear if he loosens his arms.

“It’s okay Chan Hyung. I didn’t help any either. I should have talked with you sooner rather than later.” Chan shakes his head and pulls back just enough to look at Felix’s face. “Don’t. The person in the wrong is me, not you.” He grins at Felix, and Felix smiles back. “Did Lee Know did you that the company will let us send Y/N one package or letter each?” Chan’s smile widens and bobs his head. He had been excited when he heard about that. He pulls back completely before replying. “I did. What are you thinking about sending her?” Felix looks around his room. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while but I’m stumped.” Chan moves to get up. “Well don’t think too much about it. She’ll love whatever you give her.” Felix agrees. “Wait. What are you going to send her?” Felix asks his leader. Chan smirks. “I guess you’ll find out when she opens the package.” He winks leaving his room.

(A/N: Stray Kids get to send the reader one package or letter each! What do you they they’ll send her? 🤔)

[thatssonanii]

Chapter Twelve

A/N: I'm interested in knowing who yall wanna fight more after this chapter.. Nadine, Gia or Josh😂😂 ⭐⭐LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT & SHARE⭐⭐

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abortion, typos, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven

Flashback #1

“When you was still in Texas you complained about missing me and how I don't come visit enough but you get ya ass here and don't come see me or text.” Sefa fussed, pushing her away from him. “Nope, don't hug me. Move.”

“Stop being like that. You know Zay be hogging me to himself. He cry when I got to work.” 

Sefa finally stopped pushing her away, allowing her to hug him. He squeezed her just as tight as she squeezed him. When Moriah and Zilla met as kids, she made herself the third musketeer to Sefa and Zilla and fit perfectly. 

“He cry without you?” Sefa laughed. 

She nodded then frowned, swatting Zilla's hand away from her face. “Stop it, Fatu.”

He kissed her cheek, laughing when she wiped it away. “I was just tryna fix your hair, damn. What's up, Sefa?”

The two men slapped hands and hugged.

“Nothin, Moriah was tellin me the reason she ain't come see me or text me is cause you cry without her.”

Turning to his left, Zilla stared down at his girlfriend with his brows furrowed. When she tried to hide behind Sefa, he caught her by her hips pulling her into him. She squealed as his fingers dug into her hips.

“I cry? Is that true?”

She giggled trying to get away from him. “It is. You do, cry baby!”

“Fat,” he called, pulling her into a bear hug, “Tell the truth.”

She giggled. “Okay, okay, you don't cry! Let me go.”

Upon releasing her from the hug, Zilla thumped her ear prompting Sefa to step in. He knew if he didn't, the two of them would continue their play fighting just like when they were all kids. In the midst of their conversation, Trinity came back outside to retrieve Moriah to bring her back inside. Sefa turned to his younger cousin expectantly, making him laugh. 

“What? Why you looking at me like that?”

Sefa folded his arms across his broad chest. “You know why. Updates, uce. How yall been? Everything straight?”

Whenever Sefa would visit Zilla, their conversation always went to Moriah. If Zilla didn't bring her up, Sefa did. Their talks were pretty similar each time; how she was doing, if she had come to see him, how much Zilla had missed her, if she'd called Sefa. The older cousin hated the way Zilla deflated and got sad whenever he admitted that he still hadn't gotten a visit from her and how he knew she was upset with him. 

“Yeah, we good. Our schedules had us missing each other but hers finally calmed down so that's fixed.” Zilla responded, leaving out the revelation and struggle the couple just went through. “Don't worry, man. She ain't going nowhere and neither am I.”

Sefa visibly relaxed. Although he saw how they interacted with each other he knew looks could be deceiving. Hearing that they were okay from Zilla gave him some solace but he wouldn't completely have it until he heard it from Moriah as well. 

“That's what I wanna hear. I told you if you got her when you got out that you better hold on to her and do the right thing, didn't I?”

“Yeah, you did. I'm doin both. I ain't perfect but I try.”

“Ain't tellin you to be perfect,” he explained with a chuckle, “Tellin you not to be your regular hard headed self.”

Zilla sucked his teeth playfully. “Yall love callin’ me hard headed. I listen sometimes.”

“Keyword being sometimes.”

Back at the grill, Jon joined his brother and cousin helping them load the cooked food into the pans to make room on the grill for the other food. He listened to Jacob tell him about the last show he was at but noticed his brother's body language was off.

“Hold on, Jacob.” He turned his attention to his brother. “What's wrong with you, Josh?”

“Nun, I'm cool.”

Jacob sucking his teeth let Jon know something was off. He looked between the two of them. 

“I miss something?”

“He don't like sis. He don't think uce should be with her,” Jacob explained ignoring Josh's glare.

Jon laughed loudly for a few seconds until he realized neither man was laughing along with him. “Wait … you forreal? He don't like Rye?”

Jacob shook his head, giving a disappointed look. 

“And why don't he like her?”

“Don't know. He ain't told me.”

Jon turned to his brother with a confused look. “Why don't you like her?”

“He don't need to be wasting his time with her. He need to be with somebody that ain't gon turn on him later on.”

Jacob and Jon stared at him in disbelief. 

“Ima ask you something and you better tell the truth.”

Josh huffed, taking the last of the chicken off the grill. “What, Jon?” 

“Did you and Rye sleep together or date or something?”

“Soooo how are things with your mom?”

Moriah frowned at the question, giving Trinity a side eye. “I told you I cut that lady off.”

“I was asking to make sure,” she laughed. “I'm sure that made things better with you and Zilla.”

Avoiding eye contact, Moriah gave a slight nod put her attention on the cheese she was grating. On the way to the house, Zilla promised that he wouldn't say anything to his cousins about her fertility and Angel during this family event. Even though she never promised, she felt like it was implied that she wouldn't either. Trinity stopped chopping bell peppers to stare. 

“You might as well go ahead and start talking.” Trinity pushed. “I'm listening.”

Moriah whined. “I can't. Zay promised he wouldn't say anything so I can't say anything.”

“Did you promise?”

“No, but,” Moriah was cut off by the older woman. 

“Okay then. Start talking, I'm listening.”

“Okay but you cannot tell Jon or anybody else.” 

“I won't, I won't. I promise.”

She sighed taking a few moments. “I finally told Zay that I was pregnant when he got locked up and that my mom made me abort the baby about 12 weeks in. It was a bump to get over but we're okay now.”

Stopping what she was doing, Trinity threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. Knowing that she would cry if she hugged back, Moriah stood as still as she possibly could waiting for the hug to be over.

“I'm sorry, sis. I knew she was a piece of work but I didn't think she was cruel like that. How'd he take it?”

“Not good but we talked about it after some time passed. We're good.”

Both went back to their tasks in silence. The partial revelation hanging in the air between them. Moriah willed herself not to let the rest of the words escape her. She squeezed her brown eyes shut tight and tucked her lips in, counting back from 20 in her head. When she opened her eyes, Trinity was staring at her. 

“Sorry, I'm okay. It was a while ago but it's still hard sometimes.”

“You're not okay. I know it still hurts and it still bothers you.” She leaned in once more to rub Moriah's back. “How did you still talk to her after that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I felt obligated I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad that you know now that you aren’t obligated to her in any way, sis.” Trinity felt bad that she had soured the mood with her question and wanted to lighten the mood back up. “When is this wedding, honey? I need to know when I need to be off and get fitted for my bridesmaid dress.”

Moriah laughed, emptying the grater. “What wedding are you talking about? There’s no wedding.”

“Uh yes ma’am there is a wedding. One between you and Isayah.”

“What … you speaking it into existence?” She joked.

Trinity laughed, bumping her shoulder. “I don’t need to do that. Yall are getting married, he made it very clear that he ain’t going nowhere and neither are you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “As of right now, there was no proposal so no wedding. But when there is one, I'll let you know.”

After the fallout at Kamille's house, she called on one of the people she knew who could get her sister together. While it wouldn't do the trick completely, it would get Nadine to at least think about what she was doing. Her older sister was starting to spiral, it was getting out of hand. Despite their siblings divorcing, Kamille and Gabriella stayed friends and in for the most part constant contact. When Gabriella got the call, she weighed her options– should she call or should she show up. 

Nadine snatched her door open, her eyes narrowed at the person on her doorstep.

“Aren't you gonna invite me in, ex-sister in law?”

Not waiting for a response, Gabriella pushed her way into the house and headed for the living room. It had been a few years since she'd seen the inside of this house but it hasn't changed one bit, just like the person who lived in it.

Slamming the door, Nadine followed her to the living room with a less than pleasant look on her face. 

“Sure, Gabi, come on in. Make yourself at home.”

Gabriella smiled, getting comfortable in the recliner that was deemed as her brother's many years earlier. “Don't mind if I do. I mean this is my brother's house and he says I'm always welcome in and to anything that he owns.”

Nadine sat on the sofa adjacent to her guest. “Don't walk into my home uninvited again, Gabi. This is not your brother's house and hasn't been for quite some time now.”

Gabi smiled, tilting her head slightly. “True my brother hasn't lived here in quite some time but it's still his house. Last I checked, it's his name and his name only that's on the deed. He just let you stay here after the divorce because of my niecey pooh.”

“Is there a reason you're here? You know I don't like you.”

“And that feeling is mutual, sweetheart.” Gabi motioned to her face. “You might wanna put some more ice on that bruise. It looks worse than the one you left on my Moriah.”

“The one I'm gonna leave on you is gonna be even worse than this.”

Her words made Gabi laugh hysterically. “Oh, please, Nadine. You know what happened the other three times you tried me. But I think … I think this time, I'll just call Leata. I'm sure she wouldn't mind going upside your head again.”

“Gabriella, you have exactly two minutes to tell why you’re here and what you want before I call the police.” Nadine spat, rubbing her temple.

Gabi stared at her, taking her ex-sister in law all in. Her facade was slipping, she was starting to run herself down which was sad considering how beautiful she is. 

“I remember when you were pregnant, you were so happy to be having a baby girl. You called my parents as soon as you and San got home, your joy flowed through the call.” Gabi recounted, keeping her eyes on the older woman, “You would call my mother and talk about how you and babygirl were gonna be best friends, have mother daughter dates, and how you were gonna be her cheerleader for life. But ever since you divorced San, hell before then, all you’ve done is harm her. You’ve left scars on that girl that will never heal, you’ve taken away any chance of moments that mothers and daughters are supposed to share. You’ve tried to break your own daughter down because you’re mad at my brother.”

Nadine rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the sofa with a hard sigh. “You flew across the country to talk to me about my child? This could have been a phone call.”

“It shouldn’t be happening in the first place, Nadine. I shouldn’t have to fly across the country to check your evil ass but here I am. If you’re mad at Hassan, you should be taking it out on him and not Moriah. That girl has never done anything to you.”

“You think you’re so smart, Gabi. You always did. Nobody is mad at Hassan.”

“Tell that lie to somebody that believes it. You’re mad at him but you wouldn’t dare take it out on him and I know why.”

“Oh please tell me why? I’m dying to know, Gabriella.”

Gabi chuckled. “Because somewhere deep down in that heart of yours, you think that my brother is gonna come to you and tell you that he wants to get back together. So you don’t wanna mess those chances up.”

The momentary look on Nadine’s face told Gabi everything she already knew. She knew since the couple started divorce proceedings, Nadine never thought Hassan would actually sign the papers. She thought that he would make some grand gesture giving in to what she wanted and they would go back to being married. 

“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Gabi laughed. “You think my brother is stupid enough to take you back so you’ve been careful not to be nasty to him. But do you really think he’d take you back after the way you’ve treated his babygirl? Especially after he finds out about the shit she never told him. You’ll be lucky if he ever looks in your direction after that.”

“Just get your ass out of my house! You come in here thinking you know everything when you don’t know shit!” Nadine yelled trying to regain her composure. “If I wanted Hassan back, I would have him back.”

“Oh really?” She asked with a hint of humor. “So you think that after the way you’ve treated his pride and joy and doubled down on everything by wishing death on his son in law, that he also loves to death, he’d take your sad ass back? Even your twisted ass can’t believe that.”

Nadine jumped up from her seat, screaming. “That boy is not his son in law! Stop saying that! My daughter will not marry him and he will not be in my family!”

Clapping, Gabriella stood from the recliner a wide smile on her face. “What a beautiful performance! You deserve an Oscar for that, boo. Cause you know like I know it is only a matter of time before they’re married and you’re forgotten about, Nadine.”

“No! They’re not getting married! They will not stay together, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Gabi scrunched her face waving her finger in Nadine’s direction. “Yeah, he’s definitely not gonna want your ass back after I tell him about this tantrum.”

“Get out!” Nadine screamed as loud as she could but Gabi was unphased.

“I’m leaving but only because I’m done here.” She started to leave the living room then backed up. “Seriously though, I would start lowering your expectations about getting San back and start hoping he invites you to his wedding since you won’t be getting one to Moriah’s.”

Nadine had to do a double take, thinking that she heard wrong. “Wedding?” She swallowed hard.

“Oh yes. There’s a new lady in his life, we love her. Especially Moriah. She even knows about your looney ass and doesn’t care. She’s a keeper for that part alone,’’ Gabi gushed. “You know you might get lucky. San may take pity on you and give you this house outright to soften the blow of you never ever getting him back.”

The silence almost made Gabi burst into laughter but she held her composure. Before coming out to Texas, she had a talk with Hassan about what they wanted to accomplish from her visit. He wanted to take the heat off of his daughter for as long as he could so he was okay with Gabi revealing Tamera’s presence in his life and the seriousness of their relationship. The siblings knew that would keep her mind occupied with him instead of Moriah and Zilla.

“Toodles, DiDi! See you at the wedding. And I know I don’t need to say this but,” she paused dramatically. “Please don’t wear white, you’ve had your turn already.”

As she was leaving the house, she laughed hearing Nadine’s tantrum over her revelation. Their plan had worked, she hoped that it would prompt her in losing interest in Moriah and Zilla or at the very least last longer than Hassan predicted it would. When she got into her rental, she texted her big brother and Kamille to let them know the job was done.

“Why your face all tore up? Rye told you it’s time to come in. It’s yall bedtime.” Sefa joked, noticing the frown on his cousin’s face. 

Zilla looked up from his phone and shook his head, trying not to be irritated. “Nah, it ain’t Rye. And I run this, I go to bed when I want.”

Just as those words left his mouth, Moriah poked her head out smiling, making Zilla jump a little and the men laughed. All except Josh, he sat quietly watching the interaction.

“Yall okay out here? Need anything?” 

“We good, sis,” Jacob called back still laughing. “Yall good in there?”

She nodded, giving them all a slightly confused look. “Yeah, we’re good, Just watching a movie. How much longer yall gonna be out here?”

“As long as we want!” Jon piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed, “I was asking the ones in the top 5, not number 6.”

Zilla, Jacob and Sefa ooohed in response. 

“Damn, she got you,” Sefa laughed. “We don’t know yet, Rye.”

“Thank you, number 2. I don’t know why six is getting beside himself.” She joked, dodging the bottle cap Jon threw at her. “It’s getting late so don’t be out here too late, Zay.”

He sucked his teeth at his cousins’ snickering. “I won’t, Fat.”

“I mean it.”

“Fat,” he called out, staring at her, “I’m grown, I come in when I want to.”

The cousins turned to look at Moriah.

“Oh then your grown ass can find another bed to sleep in if you not in the bed when I get in the bed. You got a hour, Isayah.”

Moriah went back in the house, the cousins laughed even louder as soon as she closed the back door. Zilla frowned playfully at them.

“Man, whatever. I go to bed when I want, she just tryna show out.”

“Nah,” Jacob laughed, “That was you tryna show out and sis put you back in your place.”

Zilla’s phone pinging interrupted him, he sucked his teeth when he checked his notifications. Sefa tried to look at the screen.

“Rye making you come in now since you was tryna show out.” 

He shook his head still reading. “Nah, it ain’t Fat.”

“Who is then? Whoever it is must be annoyin cause your face tore up again,” Jon noted.

He put his phone in his lap, looking around at them careful to keep his tone down. “Yall know that backstage girl, Gia?” They all nodded waiting for him to continue. "She been commenting under every picture I posted today, she reposted every story I posted and now she messaging me. She can’t take a damn hint and it’s gettin annoyin as hell.”

“She like you or something?” Sefa asked.

He nodded. “She say she don’t but I can clearly tell she do. She be touchin me and shit when she talk to me no matter how much I move her hands off of me and will stand in my way if I don’t stop to talk to her. She can’t take a hint or she just ignoring them.” 

“I get you tryna be nice but just tell her you got a girlfriend and you not interested.” Jon shrugged.

He huffed hearing his phone go off again. “I always tell her that shit. She always say she just tryna be my friend and keep doin the same shit.”

“She must not have met sis yet.”

Zilla nodded at Jacob. “She did! At the show this week! Fat almost beat her ass, she called Fat my sister then said cousin.”

“Sister?” Sefa repeated with a frown. “Yall don’t look nothin alike”

“And that’s what Fat said. She knew what the hell she was doin.”

“Next time she try you tell her the skating rink story, I bet she leave you alone then. The thought of getting her ass beat until she piss herself will make her stop.”

He shrugged. “All I know is, I ain’t gettin my ass beat cause she can’t take a hint.”

“Is she cute?” Josh asked, now leaning into the conversation. 

“She straight, I ain’t looked at her like that.” Zilla responded with a shrug. 

Josh gave a shrug of his own, Jon stared at his twin mouthing ‘no’ to him and Jacob sat back ready for what would come. Sefa sat perplexed as he looked through Zilla’s many notifications oblivious to the imminent danger his brother was about to put himself in.

“Ion understand what the problem is, uce. She cute, she clearly like you and putin in the effort. Why not talk to her?”

Zilla glared at him. “What you say?”

“I’m just sayin, shorty clearly shootin her shot. Go for it.”

Zilla started to laugh at his cousin. “Oooh, Fat must’ve already told you. Chill, ion want that girl, I’m good where I’m at.”

The way Josh’s face screwed up at the mention of him talking to Moriah was far too dramatic for it to go unnoticed. 

“Hell nah she ain’t tell me nothin.” Josh spat. “I’m tellin you as your big cousin that you need to try another option. Being with Moriah was cool and all but you gettin older and need to be thinkin about settling down. She ain’t who you needa be settlin down with.”

“I know I ain’t just hear that. I know you ain't just tell me to leave my lady.”

The tone of voice was unmistakable to the cousins. They knew their younger cousin was pissed but Josh was the only one who didn’t care. Sefa tapped his arm trying to get his attention but Zilla’s eyes never moved from Josh.

“Wait, Josh ain’t mean that. He was just playing. Right, Uce? Tell em you were playing.” Jon said trying to ease the tension and save his brother.

Jacob spoke up a slight smirk on his face. “Naaah, he wasn’t playin. He meant that shit. Let your brother stand on that shit he said.”

“I know you don’t like nobody tellin you what to do but you need to listen to me. You love her but you can’t change who she is." Josh reasoned not backing down.

Sefa sat confused, looking between them wondering if it was something his brothers and older cousin had forgotten to tell him and Zilla. 

“Ain’t no need to change who she is. She fine as is. The fuck is you talkin bout, mane? My lady straight.” Zilla argued, trying to calm his nerves.

“She gon end up just like her mom and you gon end up alone and heartbroken just like her dad if you stay with her.” Josh answered matter of factly. “Everything cool now but that's the same way it was with her people until it wasn’t. Thats what you want? Give everything to her ass just for her to divorce you, take the kids and the house? Cause if that’s what you want then I’ll leave it alone.”

Sefa spoke up seeing the rage boiling over in his younger cousin. “That ain’t cool, uce. She ain’t like her mom and whatever happened between her parents ain’t got shit to do with us or they relationship.”

Josh waved his brother off, “Fuck that. It got everything to do with them and us. If yall wanna stand by and let him ruin his life by staying with her then that’s cool but I’m not. She just like that lady, I can see that shit already. Save yourself, go date Gia or somebody else but don't stay with her ass.”

Zilla’s eyes met Josh’s with rage just begging to be released. Again he spoke calmly trying not to get too worked up. “Moriah ain’t nothin like that bitter ass, weak ass, evil ass bitch. This the last time ima tell you forreal. And I mean that. Ion know who the fuck you been talkin to and ion really care but when it come to that one in there I ain’t finna play bout her. Whatever you think you know, forget that shit. You my cousin and I’m tryna respect the fact that we family but you keep sayin that shit and I won’t.”

Jacob was proud of his cousin for staying calm knowing how much he cares about and loves Moriah. He knew Josh was lucky they were all related because Zilla would have beat the shit out of anybody else for Moriah without a second thought.

“I love you, Isayah that’s why I’m tellin you this,” Josh replied sincerely, “She gon end up bitter, weak and evil just like her mama. Why would wanna put yourself and your future kids through that? Especially when you don’t have to.”

At the mention of kids again, Zilla got up heading for Josh but Jon and Sefa quickly pushed him back then stood between them. Josh jumped out of his chair with his hands up in surrender showing his younger cousin he meant no harm while Jacob sat in his spot watching everything unfold with his beer in hand and a smile on his face.

“Chill, uce.” Jon said, attempting to calm Zilla down.

Zilla tried pushing them out of his way, seething with anger. “I told you stop sayin that shit! Moriah ain’t like that fuckin lady, aight? Do you even know what the fuck that bitch did to her?”

“And she gon repeat the same shit to your kids, uce! Listen to me!”

Again, Zilla reached for his cousin. “What fuckin kids, man? What kids? That bitch made her abort my fuckin son and made her tie her tubes! She made Fat life hell while I was gone and you sittin here actin like you fuckin know her and you don’t know shit! Don’t speak on my fuckin lady again, I mean that shit!”

All four men stared at him in shock, they were at a loss for words. Zilla angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, his body shook with rage but he backed away. He knew the emotions she had inside of him, although partially for Josh, were mainly for Nadine and he didn’t want to do something he couldn’t take back. Jacob sat his beer down and stood, going to put a comforting hand on Zilla’s shoulder only for it to be shaken off. Zilla snatched his fallen phone up and stormed away from them into the house.

Jon pushed his twin harshly. “This why I told you to leave that shit alone but you just had to say some shit.”

“I told you that boy ain’t right in the head about sis and now you see and know why.” Jacob added, shaking his head. 

Josh shrugged. “Even more reason to leave her ass alone. She gon resent him for that shit on top of everything else.”

Sefa stared. “And you still goin? Leave that shit alone. They happy. Her mama already tryna split them up and here you go. They need support not whatever the fuck you doing.”

“I said what I said. It’s tough but somebody gotta tell em.”

“I should go get em and let em beat yo ass for saying that shit after we just found that evil ass shit out.” Jacob said in disgust. “Sis is family. Better learn to be okay with that shit or learn to be okay with not seeing Zay.”

Zilla took a few minutes in the kitchen to calm his nerves before going to the den where Trinity and Moriah were watching their movie. Both women were cuddled under their own blankets on the large sofa  watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He lightly nudged his girlfriend’s leg.

“What’s up, Zay?”

“Come on,” he said gently pulling the blanket off her, “I’m ready to go to bed.”

“My good sis go to bed when she ready. Right, Rye?” Trinity piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed softly, “That’s right. I was just playing, baby. You could’ve stayed out there as long as you want to.”

He gave a quick, quiet chuckle. “I know. I was ready to come in. Come on.”

Moriah told Trinity good night and grabbed her blanket and phone to follow Zilla. 

Getting to their room, Zilla moved around quietly as he got his things ready for his shower. Moriah watched him, she could hear him mumbling under his breath. 

“You okay, Zay?”

His movements paused, he looked over at her. “Yeah, I’m straight. You comin in with me?”

She thought for a second then nodded. There was something bothering him but she knew him well enough to know that he would tell her when he was ready to. 

The next morning, Zilla woke her up early telling her to get dressed for a surprise he had for her. Apart of her wanted to whine about it being six in the morning but a bigger part was too excited about the surprise. During the drive to her surprise she must have asked him a thousand times to give her a hint or to flat out tell her what the surprise is. She scrunched up her face when they pulled up to a tattoo studio.

“Uuuuh what surprise is in there?” She asked then gasped. “Ooooh! You getting that one that I told your ass not to get covered up? Thank God.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “No, I ain’t. I like my tattoo, you don’t gotta like it. But my therapist gave me homework to plan something for us to celebrate Angel and this is what I planned.”

“Oooh you’re gonna get a tattoo for him? I love that, Zay.”

He laughed. “Not me. We. We gon get one for him.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “Oh no, I'm not. No, no, no.”

“Why not?” He asked turning the car off.

She pouted. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“You so scary,” he laughed, “Mean as shit and scary as shit don’t go together. But I’ll let you bite me if it hurts.”

She sat quietly pondering the proposition for a moment. “Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere appropriate in public, Fat.”

“And you won’t complain?”

“Won’t complain.”

“Deal! And if I cry, you cannot tell anybody,” she added. 

He stuck his pinky to her. “Only if you go first.”

“Mmmm … fine fine!”

Six hours later, the couple was leaving the shop with their fresh tattoos. Zilla’s placed under his on his upper arm below his father’s name and Moriah’s on her forearm. While they were there, Zilla went ahead and added Moriah’s name by his right eyebrow. The couple stood in front of his car in an embrace. 

“You did good for your first one, Fat. Zilla proud of you. You ain’t even cry.”

She smiled wide at his praise. “Thank you, I wanted to at first but it was just my nerves. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I told your scary ass that,” he pointed out. “And we’ll be back as soon as I figure out where Zilla name goin on you. It gotta be a special spot.”

“Boy, I’m not fooling with you. Anyway … I can’t believe you got that though. Why couldn’t you put it somewhere else?” She laughed.

He leaned down to kiss her. “The same reason I couldn’t put Mama name nowhere else, I ain’t want to. This where I want my favorite ladies cause I want everybody to see em and know.”

“You could’ve put it on your chest, Zay.”

“If Zilla put it there then Zilla gotta be shirtless all the time,” he pointed out. “Is that what Fat want?”

Moriah laughed  at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “No, Fat does not want that. You get on my nerves. Shawn and Booker are gonna kill you.”

“Naaaaah,” he drug out laughing. “I told them. They was cool with it.”

“Or did they just know that you weren’t really asking and you were gonna do it anyway?”

He leaned his head down to her shoulder laughing. “Shit probably so. They know I can make good choices. Shit best choice I made was you.”

She stared up at him. “I can’t tell if that was a compliment for you or for me.”

“Both,” he answered, kissing her head. “Wanna get food before we go back to the house?”

“For everybody or you wanna sit and eat?”

“Sit and eat, Fat. We got something else to do when we get back to the house.” He informed her.

He released her from their embrace, leading her to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She stared at him as he reached across her to fasten her seatbelt. 

“What we gotta do? Trin said she was sleepin in.”

“We got snugglin to catch up on. Ain’t you say I hadnt been wantin ro?” He asked, still leaning over, his face inches from hers.

“I mean yeah but your cousins are there and probably awake.”

 He shrugged. “Guess you better learn to be quiet.”

[romance-rambles]

modern* cael | a guide to handling your girlfriend's amnesia

Whilst attempting to recover your memories of your father, you end up losing your memories of the past few years instead—including the part about how you're on your way to be the future Mrs. Anselm.

8.1k, mostly fluff + slight angst + some suggestive stuff, flashbacks + amnesia, takes place sometime after hot springs event, reader is mc, series: none

"WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I lost my memories?"

A question, innocently asked. Cael thinks nothing of it at the time—thinks nothing at all, actually. The sky is blue, the grass is green, you love him, and he loves you. Therefore, there's only room for one answer, the same one as yours.

"I'd help you get them back," he says. Gently. Patiently. Though you seem to have come to terms with the fact that the amnesiac Cael you saw was your own doing, the experience seems to have to left you clingier than normal. "I'd tell you about all that we've seen and done together. The good, the bad, and—"

Even in the darkened room, he thinks he can see you grin.

"And the weird?"

He chuckles softly. "It sounds like you have ideas."

You start exactly where he expects you to, with the man who was once Darya's lover. An orb-shaped third wheel that gave relationship advice—and pestered Cael every chance he got. When it came time to part ways with him, you were rather sad.

As if, to you, Darya's lover was no different from a friend you made on one of your own journeys.

Next on the list is the time they both spent in White City, as beautiful as it was when it stood tall and proud. But rather than the cleansing ritual that demanded all travelers leave their negative emotions behind, or Darya coming to destroy the city, having lost her mind after the loss of her lover, what sticks out to you is—

"And you were so young! And this tall." you exclaim, gesturing in the dark. A dreamy sign gives way to a fit of giggles. "You were so cute."

Trying to fight back a smile in your presence is a fool's endeavor. It spread across his face anyways, warm and fond—and though you likely can't see it either, he feels as if you simply know. You snuggle closer and hum in satisfaction.

"I see," he says, amusement dripping from every syllable. "So, in your eyes, I'm no longer cute."

A muffled protest escapes your lips, though undoubtedly half-hearted. From your voice alone, he can tell you're pouting, happily unhappy—an oxymoron, if he's ever heard one—that he's derailed the conversation.

"You're always cute," you murmur, and he takes his victory with a faint laugh.

MEMORIES ARE A FICKLE THING, fragile yet everlasting—it takes great skill to painstakingly manipulate every element of someone's past to offer them a coherent illusion. To this day, Cael isn't sure how his senior managed to wipe your memory so thoroughly that no traces of your father remain. Even he, arguably an equally skilled prefect, cannot manage such a feat.

And yet, here he is, against his better judgement, fiddling around with your memories in hopes that he can undo Prefect Crimson's finest work.

Fitting for such an endeavor, a pile of notebooks containing information he compiled on the subject sits nearby, on the floor beside your bed. The pillow cushioning his knees, though unnecessary, deflates as he stands up, wiping the sweat of his forehead awkwardly. You insisted upon it, though he's half-certain you were teasing him for his age, and he found he couldn't deny you in that moment.

The thing is, one hand rests on top of your forehead, though the ritual has long since concluded. The other hand holds onto yours, having never given up your warmth for even a moment. Even when he felt his ponytail loosen, he merely gritted his teeth and soldiered on.

As he watches your peaceful form, he can't help but sigh.

When you brought up the possibility of re-tampering with your memories, he'd been hesitant. You did not remember the times your heart could not forget Godheim, but he did. And from then on, he simply had no reason to mess around like that.

All this to say, he, Prefect Silver of the Thousand Empires, is afraid of messing up—not for the first time, in these past few months.

"Cael…?" A groan—and the faint squeeze of your hand—draws him out of his thoughts. You blink blearily, your free hand coming to rest on your forehead as well. "What…"

"That's right," he says, squeezing your hand back, "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" You complain. "Where exactly did I fall from?"

Almost immediately, you attempt to sit up. Cael presses down on your forehead gently, quietly reminding you to rest for a bit longer. You comply, without complaint, though a frown tugs faintly at your lips. In his heart, he harbors no doubt on whether you consider him fussy; still, he accepts your silence gratefully.

"Cael—" After a few minutes have passed, you call his name again. "—where are we? This doesn't look like my room. It doesn't seem like a hotel either."

And with that, his heart drops.

If you aren't pulling his leg, it means something definitely went wrong. The fact that you remember him at all is a good sign. That narrows the amount of explaining he'd need to do by a lot. There's also the simple fact that he's not sure he'd be able to keep a straight face if you forgot him.

"What's the last thing you remember doing?" he asks.

You frown, watching him as though he's the one who's lost his mind. "We were about to go to France for the summer. For Van Gogh, remember?"

"What year do you think it is?"

"2022…?" This time, you actually do sit up, your hand removing his own before he can make a move. It goes back to where it sat on your forehead, your grimace saying much about the state of you. "Did something happen? You look…pale."

Cael bites back a grimace.

"I'm fine," he says reassuringly. "I simply…wasn't expecting that answer."

Raising one eyebrow at him, you joke, "How hard did I hit my head? What is it, 2035?"

Somehow, it manages to pull a weak smile out of him.

YOU'RE STILL A GIGGLY MESS, by the time you let him go.

And if someone is to assume that phrase implies that his limbs are no longer bound, they would be incorrect. Though his hands are now free, you waste no time in throwing your legs over and in between his own. He thinks he should snap a photo of this moment, for the next time you complain that Beanie feels more like his cat than yours.

Like owner, like pet seems to ring true in this situation.

"You know—" The words come out with a gasp, a brief prelude of silence before you devolve into another fit of giggles. You're laying on your back, and the start of your next sentence is marked by the sound of your hand hitting the mattress. "—I think the first thing you should do is tell me that we're dating."

He quirks an eyebrow, well aware of your motives. And though you can't see his expression, he knows you've read him correctly when you shift your head onto his shoulder. Your hair is soft, and tonight, it smells the same as his own.

These days, he can understand your shy mood during hotel stays when the two of them would use the amenities offered, instead of bringing their own.

"After all, I used to write Mrs. Anselm on the margins of my notebooks."

Cael snorts, shifting his arm to accommodate the way your hands insist on wrapping around it. "And now you scribble it every else."

And he does mean that.

He's seen his last name traced on napkins at a restaurant and on the base panel of your laptop. On the fabric of your tights underneath a table—and on the smooth pages of your textbook during class. Your phone case is not immune to the treatment either, and by now, half the student body must be convinced you're in a tragic love that will never be reciprocated.

"Well, it's not like we can let anyone know!"

The vision of you, with your lips pulled into an angry pout and your cheeks puffed, comes to him easily. It becomes the catalyst for his laughter, soft and gentle—enough to disarm you completely. Yet, by then, you've already pinched the inside of his arm.

You rub at the spot gently, as though a pinch from you has ever left him wounded.

"In a few years," Cael promises.

CONTRARY TO YOUR WISHES, CAEL does not start with the part about their relationship.

Understandably, you have questions, and many of them center around your college of choice. From the day you learned of his workplace, St. Shelter Academia became the school of your dreams—you were hardly subtle about it, and perhaps you never intended to be.

For the you facing him now, the thought of them going their separate ways may as well have be a nightmare. One carefully concocted to attack your worst fears, head on. So, Cael softens his tongue the best he can, hovering somewhere between the man he is now and the man he once used to be, and you look at him as if he hung the stars and the moon.

And in the middle of his detailed explanations, which he suspects you've half-tuned out, you notice something tucked away in your desk drawer.

You've been fluttering around the room in a daze for a while now, thoroughly enraptured by the design sense of your future self. It was only going to be a matter of time before the topic began shifting towards Godheim—and all that entails.

"What is this?" you ask, flipping through the pages of volume three of your manga. The curiosity in your eyes dims the more you make sense of its pages, until you look upon your creation with dread. "Is this…my manga? Why is the heroine with the emperor?"

Cael is sitting on the edge of your bed, his legs crossed neatly at the ankles. He lets you run through your thoughts out loud. Some of them are borderline conspiracy theories, and others make his smile falter, though not enough for you to be able to see his grimace.

His favorite one, in a dark humor sort of way, is mind control.

You—the one from 2025—would find it quite funny.

"No to all of those," he cuts you off.

You've been pacing around the room, with your hands in your dark hair. They form little pigtails, the kind you always complain you can never get right. He worries for your hair. For you, and the headache you'll have later.

"Quite a bit has happened in between," Cael says calmly, as the memories of that time flood his mind. What he remembers most is that meteor shower, the moment when the cracks seemed to begin repairing themselves. "There was a period of time when you and I did not speak to each other."

You bite your lip.

"But we're fine now." There is no question in your words. Only a statement, spoken in a distressed tone. And the answer you seek is a resounding yes. "Or you wouldn't be here."

As if sensing his owner's emotions from downstairs—or perhaps Beanie is simply tired of being excluding—a meow sounds from outside the door. A question, and the sound of his paws scratching at the door.

Let me in, a voice that sounds remarkably like your rendition of the cat's human voice yowls in his ear.

"Is that…a cat?" you ask. Your earlier worries seem to have disappeared, replaced with pure, unadulterated excitement at having a furball of your own. "Do I get a cat?"

With an exasperated sigh, he opens the door for Beanie.

The spoiled cat walks in, rubbing his chubby cheeks against Cael's leg. To him, the scene feels not unlike the first time you met Beanie. You crouch down beside the cat, eyes sparkling in delight. This time, Beanie does not spurn you.

Instead, he merely looks at you curiously, as if he can sense that you aren't quite the same human who feeds him every day.

"Hi kitty," you whisper, your hand hovering in the air, above his fur.

"This is Beanie." As he introduces to you the second love of your life, Cael mimics your sitting position and smooths over Beanie's fur. "He's yours."

FOR A FEW MINUTES, THERE is silence.

Then, the discussion begins once more. The subject, this time, is Beanie. A long-running joke in their relationship is that Cael happens to be the favorite parent—and you are simply someone who feeds Beanie every so often, with startling regularity.

Every time you bring it up, he becomes more and more convinced that it's perhaps rooted in an actual insecurity. Like now.

"Do you think Beanie will still like me?" you ask, a yawn interrupting you halfway.

Cael suppresses his instinct to mother you in favor of answering your question. Telling you to go to sleep has never actually worked—he's not so much of an idiot that he can't figure out why you're always tired in the morning, even when he's not staying over.

"I don't see why not," he says sincerely, remembering how despondent the little guy was when you were in the infirmary for three days—all thanks to Cael's most obnoxious colleague. "He adores you."

"Mhm, I know." Your voice is soft. He thinks you might be thinking of the same thing, or the other times you returned from your long journeys. "I won't make him worry."

The silence that follows tricks Cael into thinking this is the end, once again.

But you still have more to say, and he wonders how much of your own worries have yet to be revealed. You must've worried about how to break the news to Beanie—that perhaps Cael wouldn't be in his life in the same way as before.

"I won't make you worry either," you promise.

His gaze softens. "I know."

WHEN YOU REPEAT HIS WORDS back at him, it becomes easy to see why you're skeptical of the truths he's revealed to you. The first time around, when he informed you of your mother, you had already witnessed the depths of his cruelty and learned of his mission. Your travels through Godheim—through its past and its future—also lent him much credibility.

Right now, Godheim is simply the nameless otherworld of your manga. And its trio of protagonists—the maiden, the emperor, and the knight—exist only in its pages, as a mimicry of the love triangle that actually existed.

Or, from the perspective of someone stuck in 2022, the love triangle that will one day exist.

"So, you're actually an alien," you repeat slowly, as though it may make him reconsider his words. It's the same tone he used on you when you mixed up the laundry detergent with dish soap. "I'm also an alien, but only half. And I tried to stop you from destroying the world?"

Unfortunately, as he happens to be very correct, it does nothing to hinder him. Rather, he feels a childish part of him that once went dormant with the fall of White City quietly urge him to be, in your words, a smartass.

"A world," he corrects.

You shoot him a withering glare before proceeding to match—and perhaps exceed—his energy. "Right. A world. The world of my manga, which I wrote."

Cael nods thoughtfully, ignoring the way your glare transforms into the most incredulous of expressions. "That sounds right."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're the one who hit your head."

"LET'S SAY THIS DOES HAPPEN, and you do lose your memories," Cael says, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Would you believe me if I told you about what transpired in Godheim?"

You've wrapped yourself around half of him like an octopus, in such a way that the only comfortable place to put his other arm is over you. The digital alarm clock to his right reads 1:00 AM, but the only symptom that can be attributed to your sleepiness alone is your vaguely nonsensical declarations.

Like the one you shoot off in response to his question, one paired with a snort and, he imagines, a roll of your eyes.

"If I can land you as my boyfriend—" Taking a moment to nuzzle into his shoulder, you pause. "—aliens kind of seem…more realistic, don't they?"

Raising an eyebrow, he parrots your words back at you, in a tone that makes it plainly obvious what he thinks. "Aliens. More realistic?"

To the average human living on Earth, aliens are fantastical creatures of all shapes and sizes—some with, and some without, the intelligence they themselves possess. The most common are colored green, with a penchant for shapeshifting. And if not, then it means they usually do not possess a humanoid body.

Cael, as someone who might be considered an alien himself, would argue that you getting a boyfriend is a far more realistic option for a girl who knows nothing of travelers and prefects—and the empire they belong to.

"Trust me on this one," you say, your voice half-muffled. "It might come in handy one day."

He thinks of his own devastation in Godheim, when the timeline would renew, leaving only the memories of a past that no longer existed in his mind alone. That must be the closest to what you felt when the Cael of your own creation could not recognize you. If he never witnesses such a thing again, it might still be soon.

"I hope not," he mutters.

You laugh. "Me too."

There's a joke at his expense waiting to be made. And you're hardly one to disappoint. Your voice pitches higher, taking on a distinct quality that can only be described as baby talk. You let go of his arm and lay your head down on your hand, propped up by your elbow.

"Can you imagine forgetting about the cutest—"

The positions flip.

As he pins you in place, you giggle, unaffected by the implied threat. It takes kissing you—on the lips, on the cheeks, on your eyelids, and anywhere else he can find—to get you to abandon your train of thought, but even so, his hard-won peace is only temporary.

The moment you pause to catch your breath, undoubtedly smiling up at him with a mischievous grin, is the moment it goes away.

"Sometimes, he even gets jealous of himself."

AFTER FORCEFULLY CHECKING FOR ANY bumps on his head and finding nothing at all, you observe him suspiciously. Beanie has already left by now, having realized that there's nothing of importance for him in the room. It's just the two of them, and whatever dialogue that must be going on in your mind right about now.

At some point, the two of them had swapped positions. You sit on the edge of the bed now, and Cael stands nearby, one hand in his pocket. Every so often, you remember to kick your legs in the air aimlessly.

In this way. an eternity seems to pass.

Cael waits for your verdict with all the eagerness of a man heading out to the battlefield, one wrong move away from losing a limb. He's taken back to the months when the two of them were only cordial, hardly as close as they once were—and definitely not as close as they are now.

Finally, you seem to reach a consensus with yourself.

"What else?" you ask, with a sigh. "I've never known you to pull my leg. Any other riveting stories you have for me?"

By his calculations, the next time that he can fix his mistakes will be a week from now. The cooldown has nothing to do with any energy exerted on his part, but rather, what your body is able to handle. In theory, the procedure itself should be a quick fix.

And, well, he did promise you he would tell you about your relationship status, if you ever happened to forget.

"You have a boyfriend," he says carefully, keeping a close eye on your expression.

"Oh," you say, sounding disappointed. He wonders about your reaction to his next words—if you'll perk up like a dying flower exposed to magic. "That's nice. I'm sure he's nice."

"It's me," he adds.

The current expression on your face speaks much about the state of your mind. You blink rather forcefully, and your tense smile seems to be permanently frozen onto your lips.

"…It's not nice to pull someone's leg like that, Cael," you chide him. "Aliens, I can believe—"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You can believe aliens?"

"But this is—" Sputtering, you begin to gesture wildly in the air. "Is this April Fools' day?"

Your words from before echo in his head. Aliens kind of seem…more realistic, don't they? To think you would be right about that—Cael watches the current you comb through your hair and wonders, not for the first time, about your priorities.

By now, you've started searching for your phone. It occurs to him that perhaps you weren't joking when you asked him that. But, by the time he opens his mouth, you've already learned that it's actually March right now.

"It is not," you mutter, sounding shocked. You don't even seem to have the strength to point any more. "You—we—we're dating."

"That's right," he says gently. "If you're curious, I—"

"Prove it." You cut him off, all of a sudden, your words carrying an intensity he doesn't often see. "If we're dating…then you've probably kissed me before, right?"

"HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU that you're a good kisser?"

"A few times," Cael says, sounding faintly amused. "What brought this on?"

You have your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. From where his hand rests just below your shoulder, he can feel your chest rise and fall. Every so often, a small exhale escapes your lips, when you remember that holding most of your breath in is bad for you.

You shrug. "I was just thinking, if lost my memories, I wouldn't know you were a good kisser."

He waits for you to continue your train of thought. But you offer him nothing more in regards to your stray thought—instead, you're oddly silent. Still, he knows better than to assume the discussion's end.

Burying his face in the nape of your neck, he waits.

"I think—" Your hands assume a more comfortable position on his back. "—that might be the first thing I check."

Cael raises an eyebrow. "And nothing else?"

It's said that a person's personality is often tied to their memories. So, upon losing their memories, it's entirely possible for them to act like a different person. Assuming the premise of the situation you've put forth involves you entirely forgetting him, he can't help but doubt the validity of your claim.

If you retain your memories of him, however—that may be a different story.

"You can be the responsible one." As you giggle, your hands curl into fists. And as you begin to count, you put down a finger for each number. "One kiss. Maybe two."

"I can't imagine that an amnesiac faced with a man claiming to be her boyfriend would be so quick to jump into my arms," he says dryly.

You hum one of the love songs that have been playing everywhere recently. It's your politest way of telling him that he may be correct, but he is also very wrong. On his back, your thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart, after a few clumsy attempts at drawing one instead.

"Why not?" you say finally. "As I recall, someone else we know seemed to really like me."

Cael can point out that it was his adult self, with his adult self's feelings, all he wants. The truth is, he isn't really sure if that's the case. It's evident that there's much he doesn't know about his life before the Empire—and then there's the complicated matter of you traveling back in time to meet him.

If the day comes where it turns out his younger self was somehow involved with you, Cael doesn't think he'd be surprised.

"I think I'd really like you too," you murmur. "If there's such a thing as soulmates, I'd like to think that's us."

LUNCHTIME SEES HIM IN THE kitchen, his hair still tied up and an apron tied at his waist.

Yesterday, you said you would want something unhealthy and easy to cook. Something greasy and fried, so thoroughly awful for your body that it would help you cope with what you'd lost. So, he bought a frozen pack of fried chicken and french fries—and he decided against getting buns, just to keep things simple.

He's in the middle of frying the first batch of chicken—having gotten himself out of the previous situation by half-jokingly instituting a one kiss per day limit—when you poke your head into the kitchen.

"So…boyfriend." You step out from behind the wall. "Can I help in the kitchen?"

The gleam in your eyes only promises disaster upon him. It's almost as if you never lost your memory at all. Muscle memory prompts you to tie your hands behind your back and lean forward, the very picture of innocence—in a few minutes, he suspects your arms will be wrapped around his waist.

Your definition of helping tends to be loose at times, but you've spent enough time in the kitchen that he feels comfortable assigning you to the chopping station.

It is then he remembers once more that this simple moment of domesticity is all too new to you.

There's a smile on your face, giddy and uncontrollable. Ordinarily, you'd feign a pout. Insist there are other ways you can help—ones that involve holding his hand, leaving you to grab whatever is he can't at the moment.

His lips thin into a straight line, a compromise to the frown that wants to come out instead.

You don't notice. You're already reaching for your designated apron. Once you've tied it around yourself, you flash him a bright grin, and he can hear your thoughts—the very same words you said the first time you wore it.

We match.

A week, he reminds himself.

Soon, lunch is fried. The unhealthy aroma of frozen fast food wafts through the first floor of your house, and he suspects the same is true for half of the second floor. He did make sure to close all the doors in the house so the rooms, he figures, should be fine.

And as he's setting up the table, you seat yourself in your chair and stare. More of that muscle memory, Cael thinks. He's used to being stared at—you've never hidden your thoughts on his beauty.

And yet, somehow, a simple compliment leaves him at a loss.

"Have I ever told you," you whisper, as he walks away to grab something, "that you look beautiful with your hair tied up?"

There's a lump in his throat. It stops him from offering you a snarky Often. So, he smiles faintly at you and hopes you don't notice what it's meant to hide.

EVEN WITH GREASY FAST FOOD in front of you, you can't seem to take your eyes off of him.

There's something almost reverent about the way you watch him. It takes him back to a time when you knew nothing—and believed wholeheartedly that Cael would always be there, no matter what.

Enough time has passed that the knowledge of how the next week will play out has begun to settle in. Part of it still feels like a dream, as though he might wake up and you'll chase the faint ache in his heart away with a steady stream of kisses.

When he vowed to be his most authentic self in front of you, you had already seen the worst he had to offer. The only place to climb, at that point, was to climb up.

In the present, Cael isn't sure how much of the world-destroying alien part of his explanation has stuck.

"Cael," you speak up suddenly, setting down a half-eaten piece of chicken down on your plate. "Are you really my boyfriend?"

Upon finishing up the piece in his own hand, he asks faintly, "Is it that hard to believe?"

You snort. "You've seen yourself in the mirror, right?"

At the end of the day, you are his girlfriend. It isn't so much of a surprise that the you in front of him and the you locked away in your memories are so painfully alike. Even down to the way your gaze changes, a hint of incredulousness swimming in your purple eyes.

He regrets not asking what he should do if you remember him—just not as your boyfriend. It should be fine to treat you normally, right? You've only lost your memories, and nothing else.

And in the event that he can't get your memories back, it might be a good idea to start getting used to this.

"You're beautiful," Cael offers, his longing evident in every syllable of his confession.

Scarlet blooms across your cheeks. Suddenly, you're a bit shy, tucking a strand of dark hair behind your ear. For a moment, normalcy seems to return to the household.

Coughing politely, you mumble, "I wasn't fishing for a compliment."

The thanks that follows your words comes out as a whisper, almost imperceptible, if not for the fact that he knows you so well. He feels himself relax a bit as he bite into a singular fry.

He's not giving you enough credit—you've already proven you're willing to love his flawed self. More than that, you seem to take an immense amount of glee in finding out that he is, in fact, not perfect. Even now.

And then, you open your mouth, and it's enough to startle him into forgetting what it is he was worried about.

"Does that mean I get an extra kiss?" you ask eagerly, your earlier shyness having vanished in only a moment.

Almost automatically, in a bland tone, he answers, "Ask me tomorrow."

"Okay!" you reply cheerfully, as if you didn't believe, for a moment, he'd say yes.

WHEN NIGHT FALLS UPON HARP island, and you begin to yawn, it becomes increasingly obvious that they must discuss living arrangements. And the opportunity comes when you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

For most of the day, he helps you familiarize yourself with your current friends and acquaintances—and lets you mourn the loss of your old ones. And then, there's the matter of your tstudies. You deliberately chose a weekend after your midterms, when your load would be the lightest.

But you need to know where your classes and what they're for, with only a day in between today and Monday.

Needless to say, you're incredibly spent.

If the expression on your face is not enough to sell it, the way you cling to him does.

Affection has always come easy to you. And when your walls are at their lowest, it comes pouring out of you, aimed at the nearest you hold any ounce of affection for. When Cael first properly entered your life, he deduced that allowing such a thing would increase your trust for him.

So, for you, his only boundary was meant to ward off any romantic pursuit.

It worked spectacularly—that is to say, not at all.

"Cael…" you mumble. "I'm sleepy. Can we stop?"

The clock reads 11 PM. Though you act differently, he's aware that this is perhaps the earliest you'll be sleeping in a while. Holding back a sigh, he turns off his laptop, then turns to you.

"You've had a long day," he says, finally, his tone gentle.

"Mhm, can you carry me up? And…" You yawn, cutting off his exasperated response. "Can you stay?"

Cael wonders what might be going through your mind right now. Without his deduction abilities, he feels oddly vulnerable—a notion he hasn't related to in months.

"Alright. It might be good for you to have someone familiar with you tonight," he says, painfully aware of how much he misses his own version of you. "I'll sleep on the couch. So, come get me if you need anything."

"No…" The noise you make vaguely resembles a whine. You wrap your arms around his neck, hands grasping at the fabric of his collar. "Stay. A little longer…"

He can only smile weakly. "Just for a little bit."

"Mhm…I'm not gonna—" A yawn cuts off your words. "Don't wanna wake up."

In the end, Cael must concede to you and your vice grip.

When he sets you on the bed, you cling to his shirt and refuse to let go. You've done this before a few times, mostly after you began dating him—and he, a Prefect of the Thousand Empires who could easily remove himself from your grasp, has never had the heart to escape.

In the week that follows, all his nights happen to follow a similar pattern.

HERE ARE THE FACTS: CAEL goes to sleep with one girlfriend and one cat. He wakes up with one of them laying on top of him. Given their distinctly human-shaped form, it is definitely not the cat. In addition, he locked Beanie out, in case it could be overwhelming to wake up to that.

Therefore, Cael's girlfriend is, for some reason, laying on top of him, their legs tangled together and her intense gaze boring holes into him.

"Good morning." You've stacked your hands on top of each other—and on top of him—which is the base upon which you rest your chin. "…boyfriend."

Bleary violet eyes blink up at the woman trapping their owner in place. Cael's arms, however, are the only part of him that can freely move. And move they do, of their own volition, gingerly wrapping around your waist as they do every morning.

"Good morning," he croaks out, vaguely aware of the troubles awaiting him for the next week. Liore will almost certainly know that something is wrong with you, as will the paragons. That, however, is for future him to worry about. "Go back to sleep."

You ignore him, and the very clear message his closed eyes send. Poking his cheek, you tell him, "Let's go on a date."

Cael cracks one eye open. "Right now?"

"I have to get used to things at St. Shelter, don't I?" Your eyes are sparkling. They're beautiful, like amethysts in the sun. You're beautiful. He wants to sleep. "You're the only one who can help."

He has to be responsible.

With a sigh, he opens his eyes. "I'll make breakfast. Give me a minute."

The world immediately goes dark. Cael is, of course, aware of the dangers of leaving you unattended when you're brimming with energy. Tiredly, he drops a kiss on your forehead and tightens his grasp on you.

Not another word escapes you for the next hour.

THE CUP OF COFFEE IN HIS hand is still warm, by the time the two of them find a bench to settle down on. To call the whole experience a date, in Cael's opinion, is pushing it—interrogation is, perhaps, the better word for it.

For example, on the way to the park, you asked him about how he slept in today.

In your memories, he wakes up as the sun rises, and he's at your house before you even wake up. You once told him that you sometimes pretended he stayed the night. That if you came down at 3 AM, you would find him snoozing on the couch.

You never did, because he never stayed.

In some ways, at that time, you were a nine-to-five and he wasn't keen on working overtime. And when it did become appealing, he justified his distance with the impending goodbye. Wendy would soon no longer need Peter Pan.

Another thing you seemed to be curious about was his suddenly snarky personality. He was still the same gentle Cael you remembered, but different. Even now, as Cael analyzes your words, it seems clear you didn't mean different in a bad way.

Just different.

"So, what else do we usually do on a date?" Although your coffee is already on the cooler side, you still blow air into the cup. "Lunch?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Maybe a movie that's playing right now."

You hum. He wonders if you're remembering the time you tried to scare him by taking him—or, more accurately, begging him to take you—to a horror movie. What happened instead was that Cael had to check the backyard for any serial killers and groggily comfort you at 4 AM via the phone after you woke up from a nightmare.

"That movie would never have scared you, huh?" you ask.

He grimaces, thinking of all the inaccuracies he could've pointed out back then. "I've seen much worse."

At this point, the only horror story he can't tolerate is the thought of losing you. Not through a break up, or even in this way, with you having lost your memories, but through death—something so permanent he would have to take over the Empire to bring you back.

He thinks you—the 2025 you—have caught on, especially after the fiasco that was Spirit World.

You bob your head up and down rather seriously.

Birds are beginning to gather near their bench, likely recognizing you from all the times you've fed them before. Before leaving the house, Cael made sure to grab some breadcrumbs for your bird friends, knowing how you tend to be. Even before coming to Harp Island, this was a habit of yours.

Having taken a sip of his coffee, he's about to start digging through his bag when you ask a different question. Predictably, one that he chokes at, already anticipating how you might tease him.

"Am I the only girlfriend you've ever had?"

BARRING A FEW INCIDENTS, MOST of the week goes by quietly.

The threat of being possibly exposed leaves you hesitant to leave the house more than strictly necessary. So, although Cael went through the specifics of an average week in your life, you make use of approximately a quarter of that information.

You pass half the time by going through your stuff. The other half is devoted to pestering him for dates, usually in remote places, where the chances of running into someone are nil.

You seem to really like Greece.

You tell him it'd be nice to have the time to hunt down a flight and sit tight for hours—and there's a wistful tone to your words when he allows himself to scrunch his nose. It makes you laugh too.

And, three days before the deadline, Cael is in his office, preparing a few things for his next lecture, when a familiar ring tone cuts through the silence. Right now, you should be on your way back from your last class of the day.

The contents of your call could be anything from being "kidnapped" by Lars to actually being in trouble to having no explicit purpose at all.

"Hello?" he answers, glancing distractedly at the email from his TA about a question from one of the students. "Is something—"

"You're Emerald?" a familiar voice half-shrieks in his ear. "The award-winning artist Emerald? My favorite artist ever, Emerald?"

As usual, he lets you run through your thoughts out loud. Your chatter serves as the backdrop to his prep work. He catches the words idol, boyfriend, and dream crop up a few times. It's only when you drop Liore's name that he pieces together what might've transpired.

The local art gallery is hosting an event where they'll be showing off some of his newer works, post-hiatus. It isn't for another month, but the tickets for it were given to him in advance—a fact that you mentioned to the older woman when she offered to buy you the tickets.

You did, of course, exclude the part about it being a date.

"It slipped my mind," he responds apologetically. "I'm sorry."

And it was, in fact, a genuine mistake on his part. Given that his identity as an artist rarely cropped up in his day to day life—unlike, say, the fact that he was a Traveler—he hadn't seen the need to bring it up.

You're silent for a few minutes.

"I'll forgive you," you finally respond. "But only if you give me another kiss."

"You know I made that up, right?" he asks, unable to contain his amusement. Cael pulls his phone away from his ear. "You don't have to barter for a kiss."

Your silence soon turns into sputtering.

That's the only response he gets out of you for the next five minutes.

SOON, THE PROMISED DAY COMES, bringing with it a light drizzle.

You settle down on the bed, eyes closed, with all the bravery of a soldier going to war. Your only request is a kiss—and whatever thoughts are swirling in your head, you don't say. And as for holding his hand, you don't ask; your fingers simply grasp his hand tightly, like they had week ago.

The next time you open your eyes, Cael gets a sense of deja vu.

"Cael…?" You blink blearily, your free hand coming to rest on your forehead—where, once again, his own hand sits. "What…"

Squeezing your other hand tightly, he asks, "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" You complain, attempting to sit up. Once more, he gently forces you back down. "Where exactly did I fall from?"

As you grumble about being able to sit up and that you're absolutely fine, Cael breathes a sigh of relief. At the very least, you still remember him. And given how freely you can complain about him, he suspects that you might've recovered all of your memories back.

"What year do you think it is?" he inquires carefully.

You look at him like he's an idiot. Cael doesn't budge on requiring an answer. Instead, he squeezes your hand encouragingly, the expression on his face quietly asking you to humor him. A long-suffering sigh escapes your lips—and that's when any doubts about your memories wither and die.

"It's 2025. We were—" As a realization dawns on you, the blandness in your tone transforms into disappointment. "It didn't work."

"What do you remember about the last week?"

The expression on your face implies much about your thoughts at the moment. You open your mouth, undoubtedly prepared to give him the wrong answer, and then you seem to realize something.

Eyeing him warily, you ask, "What happened last week?"

It's as good a confirmation as any that you don't remember losing a few years worth of your memories. Cael settles down on the edge of the bed and recalls how clingy you were in that time.

As it so happens, you often tend to be all bark and not bite—until you're so used to the action in question that it becomes instinct.

"Well…" he starts, a faintly amused smile on his face. "For starters, you really liked calling me your boyfriend—"

THE NIGHT BEFORE IT ALL ends, you ask him a question—one he suspects you've been holding onto for a while.

The two of you are lying in bed, separated by the eternal third wheel that is Beanie. And if ever there's a reason to stop sneaking him treats, it would be for this. But, for a destroyer of worlds, as you like to point out often, Cael is surprisingly soft-hearted.

One distraught mewl, and it's game over for him.

On the bright side, you no longer have the twin bed he prepared for you, back when you first moved into this house. After the first couple of sleepovers, it became evident you needed a bigger bed, especially if Beanie would keep crawling into bed halfway through the night.

So, you went out and bought yourself a bed—and when Cael came over the next time, the layout of your room had changed drastically.

Never let it be said that feeling shy about something has ever prevented you from doing said thing.

"Cael…" you whisper, and rustling sounds ensue. In your attempt to shift onto your side, he hears your elbow hit the backboard. "What if—what if my memories don't come back?"

His gaze is fixed onto a point in the never-ending darkness, where the ceiling should be. In the silence, he can clearly hear your soft exhales—small reminders that you seem to have forgotten how to breathe. He shifts onto his side, and sure enough, his hand finds yours, curled loosely into a face on top of your pillow.

"Then you'll still be my girlfriend," he says carefully, then pauses. "Just—with a few holes in her memory."

Cael has pondered that same question as well. Many times, in fact; whether over a cup of coffee or in the middle of a lecture, the reminder that you've lost your memories has a tendency to creep up on him.

How will they explain it to everyone, knowing that you haven't left Harp Island in quite a while?

What would be the easiest way to help you relearn the basics of your life, knowing that you nearly fell asleep the first time?

Going forward, will living together—as addicting as it is—be the new normal? Should he start looking for an apartment the two of you can share? How would they explain it if anyone asked?

And sometimes, a little voice creeps into his mind, and it asks, What if you change your mind?

But you haven't yet. In fact, Cael suspects those same thoughts have been running through your head as well, down to the little insecurities that he can't seem to shake.

"More than a few," you murmur softly, squeezing his hand.

He closes his eyes and squeezes your hand back. "Hopefully, not more than right now."

"I think you'll be fine," you say, your words succeeding a nervous giggle. "You have a very pretty face."

A sense of deja vu washes over him and, along with it, a familiar kind of sadness. He's reminded of your previous predictions—and of the way he has to remind you of them. For as long as their relationship grows, the number of inside jokes they accumulate will grow as well.

But the ones they already had might be lost.

He can't imagine his mocking impressions of his past self will land quite as well. This, in a nutshell, perhaps describes perfectly the answer to your next question.

"What's it like to have someone forget about you?"

"Strange," he says, condensing his rapid fire thoughts into only a single word.

It is neither a good thing nor a bad thing. Except it is a bad thing, because this whole fiasco occurred due to his mistake. But that's not your fault. If anything, the blame lies with him. But if he said that, you would deny until your face turned blue.

When you ask him to qualify his single-word statement, Cael naturally struggles to describe his feelings—in a way that won't make you feel bad.

Eventually, he settles on:

"You still remember who I am, don't you?"

In your voice, he can hear the slight downward curve to your lips and the way they flatten every so slightly into a straight line. And with a sigh, you flop onto your back loudly, sending a shockwave through the mattress. Your hand slips out of his grasp and makes room for its twin instead.

"I'll put that down as 'undecided'," you say, and sigh #2 soon follows.

But silence does not.

You call his name once more, still in that fretful and plaintive tone. "What if I get my memories back, but I don't remember this past week at all?"

"Then I'll tell you all about it," Cael answers easily.

For a moment, you ponder his words. If he could look into your eyes, as though the room was illuminated by the lamp in the corner of your room, what sort of emotions would he see?

"Okay. Don't let me forget about it, okay?" you tell him sternly. He's about to ask what that entails, in a teasing tone that's sure to have you reaching for a pillow, when you add, jokingly, "I can live without the embarrassing stuff."

He smiles and lets his silence do the talking.

You acquiesce to your fate rather easily, with a sigh. "Then, let this be the last time we have to deal with any memory shenanigans…"

"Indeed," Cael says, and hopes for it with all his heart.

— happy (very belated) birthday to the local caelmc art dealer, @nekonyaniii!