#apologies if this comes off pretentious i tried my best

[warping-realities]

Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

[multifanatics]

hii :) i was wondering if you could write an enemies to lovers jamie tartt x reader fic where maybe she’s the sister of someone on the team and hates jamie from the minute they meet but after an unexpected night together, reader realizes she could be falling for him

idk if that makes sense 🫣🫠

A/N: Of course! I changed it a bit, I apologize. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Possible spoilers, Slight angst, Mentions of Jamie's dad, and more.

Word Count: 463

---

From what [Y/N] had heard Jamie Tartt was a grade A asshole. She felt the same way once she met him; Jamie is full of himself, a self righteous, pretentious prick who had to be better than everyone else. 

“Jamie Tartt I’ve heard about you.” Jamie wondered his way toward [Y/N] and Colin. [Y/N] and Colin had been best friends since forever. [Y/N] held out her hand to greet Jamie. 

“I don’t really shake hands.” Jamie spoke unphased by [Y/N]’s statement. Of course she’s heard of him, he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Jamie told Colin off for not passing to him before he left showing [Y/N] that she truly hated him. There was no ‘good game’ before he left, he just left.

It was such a shitty first impression that [Y/N] was convinced that Jamie Tartt was the one person in the world she strongly disliked more than anything in the world. Which was what made accepting that he changed over the past two years so difficult. Even when watching the football matches on the television every pass he made to other teammates. Unbeknownst to her the growing anger laced a much stronger emotion. 

“Daydreaming?” Jamie asked. She was there in the locker room earlier and went to Jamie’s hotel room to ‘know if he’s okay’. The locker room after the match was hard to watch when Jamie’s dad showed up which placed [Y/N]’s misplaced anger onto Jamie’s father, a man who deserved it.

“Yeah, I guess.” [Y/N] spoke defensively. Jamie took a seat on the couch one cushion away from her. 

“I’m not the best at reacting.” Jamie tried to make conversation and he chuckled dryly. [Y/N] just nodded. 

“But uhm..” Jamie tried to think about what to say. [Y/N]’s crying was guilt mixed with an aforementioned laced emotion and the stress she was under at her job. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” [Y/N] looked at him and his uneasy smile. 

“He’s the reason I tried my hardest. Called me weak, a pussy…” Jamie trailed off trying to come up with the words for an apology for the things he’s done in the past to her and to the team. 

“I guess I'm trying to say I'm sorry.” Jamie spoke, hanging his head, while [Y/N] felt the conflict of emotion that filled her. The true emotion made itself known, but now wasn’t the best time to admit to her now realized crush. 

“I forgive you, I can’t imagine the hell you’ve been put through.” [Y/N] placed her hand on his shoulder and he glanced at her, the expression on his face said it all. Now, just wasn't the time.

[madsworld15]

Part 5 of still unnamed Asexual Spectrum AU (QAF)

The next day, Justin wore his best pair of jeans and a light blue button-down with his dark navy cable knit over it. This sweater was one of the few things he had left from his parents. It was Brooks Brothers. The only reason he knew that was because his mother made sure he knew it when she gifted it to him for Christmas his senior year. Justin knew the sweater probably made him seem pretentious, considering the event, but it was the only nice sweater he currently owned, and he wanted to look his best.

Justin had no expectations of selling any of his art. None of it was particularly spectacular or even meaningful to anyone outside of himself. Except maybe the one of Brian, but Lindsay was the only one who truly cared about it, and she wasn’t able to afford the price tag. She had told him as much yesterday when he had returned to the center with Emmett. Justin had already decided that if it didn’t sell today, he would gift the drawing to her. If anyone deserved to have it, it was her.

He was nervously standing in front of his section of the exhibit when he looked up and saw his mother enter the center. He hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day his father handed him $2000 and told him that if he insisted on continuing with his disgusting lifestyle, he could leave. So, Justin had packed up a few of his things and left. That day, his mother hugged him and told him she loved him and that she would talk to his father. Nothing came of that, and so Justin and Mrs. Taylor hadn’t spoken since August. Five months of complete silence from the one person Justin had thought he could always count on.

“Mom?!” Justin accepted her hug, shock still evident on his face.

“Oh, my sweet boy!” His mother’s lavender scent permeated every cell in Justin’s body as they continued to embrace. “Daphne told me your art was going to be featured. I had to come and see.”

“Why haven’t you called me back? I tried calling you a couple times these last few months.” Justin asked, vulnerably barely above a whisper.

“Justin.” His mom’s voice held so much unsaid emotion, and he knew the response that was coming. “Your dad. He is adamant about his decision.”

“Then what are you doing here? How’d you explain it to him?” Justin steeled himself against the tears that threatened to fall.

“He’s in Aspen for the weekend. He says it's for work, but I know it’s not.” She looked away from Justin and toward the art on the wall behind him. “Oh, Justin! This is beautiful.” 

She stood before the sketch he had made of Molly at her dance recital. There was a sadness to her that Justin had never seen before. His mom had always been strong, stoic, and proud. But the woman before him was fragile and cracked. He knew that he was to blame for that. If he’d just stayed in the closet, his father wouldn’t have made her choose between her husband and her son.

“Yeah, I drew this right after her recital back in July. The last thing we did together as a family.” Justin stepped forward and silently forgave his mom for the sacrifices she had to make. “I miss her.”

“She misses you too.” Mrs. Taylor turned to her son and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “She asks me at least once a week when your father is going to let you come home.”

“I’m sorry. I caused everyone so much pain. That was never my intention.” Justin started to apologize but stopped when his mom moved her hand to his chest.

“We’re getting a divorce.” 

“What?” Justin shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of the news. “I can’t let you leave him because I messed up.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not leaving him because you messed up. He did. Your father was wrong to cut you off from us completely. I’m just sorry it took me this long to see it.” His mom pulled him into another hug. Justin could feel the tears escape before he had the chance to swipe them away.

They were still hugging when Brian walked over. Justin wasn’t even aware that he’d even come. But there he was in all his glory. It was the first time they were face to face since the night they kissed, right before Christmas. And here he was, crying. Justin pulled out of his mom’s embrace and quickly wiped his cheeks to divulge them of any tear tracks. 

He cleared his throat, “H-hello, Brian. Shocked to see you here.”

Brian gave his signature smirk and tucked his tongue into his cheek before he responded. “I heard that a local artist had drawn the likes of me. So, naturally, I had to come check it out.”

“Of course.” Justin tucked his lips between his teeth and softly chuckled.

Mrs. Taylor cleared her throat and gave Justin a pointed look. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled before he turned to Brian.

“Mom, this is Brian. Brian, this is my mom.”

“How do you know my son?” Justin’s mom asked as Brian shook her hand.

“He works at the diner. We all eat there from time to time. You get to know one another. It’s a small community.” He gave her his most charming smile, but when he looked over her shoulder to Justin, his look changed. There was something charged about the way his gaze bore into Justin’s eyes.

“Yeah. Brian works for a local ad agency. His best friend’s mom is my boss.” Justin let out the breath he’d been holding and added a bit more context.

“Like I said, small community,” Brian whispered and then ducked his head.

“So, Justin. Tell me about these other pieces.” Justin turned his attention away from Brian, who was now studying the sketch of himself, and back to his mom.

“This one here is called The Graveyard Shift. It’s of the diner where I work. My boss typically picks up that shift because no one else wants it. That’s here, there.” Justin pointed to the drawing positioned to the right of the one of Molly. 

“I had no idea you were working at a diner.” Mrs. Taylor whispered, her tone dripping with awe for the talent her son displayed in his art. “I figured you had to be working somewhere. I just never expected it to be a diner.”

“I needed to join the gay community here. For myself.” Justin took his mom’s hands in his and looked her in the eyes, begging her to understand.

“Of course.” Mrs. Taylor removed her hands from Justin’s only to wrap one of her arms around his shoulder and took in the next two drawings, his still lifes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Justin just smiled and didn’t say a word. Brian was still standing there staring at the drawing of himself and Gus, but Justin didn’t care if the man heard every word. It was important to him that his mom had shown up. At first, he was ready to murder Daphne, but now that they’d had a chance to talk, Justin could see she loved him. There was still so much they needed to talk through and work out if she ever wanted to be as big a part of Justin’s life as she used to be, but her showing up today was huge. She knew it, Justin knew it, and from the subtle smile on Brian’s face, he knew it as well.

“Justin!” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the breathless exclamation of his mom, who had just reached the drawing of Brian. Justin smiled to himself, knowing that she loved it as much as he did.

“I drew that a few weeks ago, right before Christmas.” Justin tried to nonchalantly shrug it off as no big deal. 

But then Brian did something unexpected. He wrapped himself around Justin from behind and muttered against his ear, but loud enough that Justin’s mom could hear, “You got every detail correct. All the way down to the expression on Gus’ face when he eats.”

“Is this you?” Mrs. Taylor addressed Brian. 

He didn’t let go of Justin, but his face pulled back a bit in order to respond. “Your son drew me and my son.”

“This truly is a work of art.” Mrs. Taylor turned back to stare at the drawing once more. 

Brian pulled Justin away from his mom and over to a corner of the room where barely anyone else stood. Justin wasn’t sure what Brian’s intentions were, and Justin didn’t know if he’d be able to stop him if the older man decided to kiss him again, especially not with what Brian was wearing. The man was dressed in a form-fitting black sweater and a pair of nice but tight slacks.

“Why do you look as though you are going to shit yourself?” Brian finally asked once they were alone. “I’ve been watching you since I arrived, and you’ve only become more distressed the more time passes.”

“What?” Justin was expecting any number of things to come out of Brian’s mouth, but concern for him was not one of them.

“Did I use any particularly hard-to-understand words?” Brian teased.

“You’ve been watching me?” Justin’s voice came out in a squeak.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you say it like that, I sound insane.”

“Well, I’m not the one watching people.”

“No, you’re just the one crying and looking distressed. Is it your mom?” Brian put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and looked him over critically. “Because I know how to handle crappy moms.”

“My mom is fine. We just…” Justin sighed, his throat closing up and tears forming in his eyes once more. “FUCK.”

Brian didn’t say anything or remove his hand from Justin’s shoulder. He just let the blonde process whatever emotions he needed to process in order to get the words out. Justin was grateful for that.

“In August, my dad kicked me out of the house with nothing but a small bag of clothes and things and a couple grand in cash. My mom tried to stop him, but he told her she had to choose.” Justin licked his lips, “She chose him. Until now. Now, she said she’s divorcing him and that she’s sorry.”

“Do you believe her?” Brian’s voice was calm, quiet, and gentle. Something Justin was still getting used to hearing from him.

“I want to.” The ‘but’ Justin wants to say remains unsaid.

“But her initial reaction and choice hurt you.” Brian finished his thought correctly.

“Yeah.”

Brian moved his hand to cup Justin’s cheek. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Justin’s lips. “You have to do what brings you happiness. Who cares what anyone else thinks.” 

Their foreheads connected as Justin closed his eyes and tried to get his racing heart under control.

“I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I should be running away, but all I want to do is get closer to you.”

Justin took a few deep breaths before he responded. “And I meant what I said. I may never want sex.”

Justin pulled away from Brian entirely and headed over to chat with Debbie and Lindsay, who were by the drink station. He needed to clear his head. Being around Brian was never good for the logical side of his brain, which he needed for this event. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” Debbie greeted him with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s a very nice lady.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.” Justin shrugged his shoulders; he couldn’t hide anything from Debbie, so he decided that he didn’t even want to try.

“Justin,” Just then, his mom was there. Before he turned around to face her, Justin plastered a fake smile on his face. 

“I have to go pick up Molly from a playdate, but I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Your art means something.” She wrapped him in a hug.

“Thanks, Mom,” Justin replied, letting her hug him tightly. He never wanted the safety and security he felt in her arms to go away, but as soon as they pulled apart, it did. To be replaced by the uncertainty her presence now brought.

After she was gone, Justin turned back to Debbie and Lindsay, who stood there in sympathetic silence. Then, he was wrapped up in Debbie’s arms once more. This time when the tears fell from his eyes, he let them.

“She came. That’s a big deal. Forget that she hasn’t spoken to you in months. She was here today, of all days, to support you. Remember that. She loves you.” Debbie whispered sagely.

Justin spent the next hour walking around and mingling with the other artists on display. He learned that the GLC offered free art courses in a studio from time to time, but that for more advanced artists, the time in class was better spent working on something else. Justin made a note to look into attending these free courses once school was on break for the summer. He had almost managed to make it through the rest of the show without another interaction with Brian when the man cornered him. 

It was ten minutes to the end, and Justin was back to standing near his art. Brian sidled up next to him with his signature mischievous smile on his lips.

“You know, I heard a tired old queen telling his friend that your art lacks a certain sex appeal.” Brian gently nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own.

“Did you now.” Justin smiled. The two stood side-by-side, not even making eye contact.

“Yes, but clearly, they hadn’t seen the drawing of me because I ooze sex appeal. Even in charcoal.”

Justin shook his head and laughed. “Never lose your self-entitlement.”

“Are you finally admitting you find me charming?” 

Justin didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because a moment later, Brian continued.

“Never lose your artistic eye. You see the world differently than most people. You always manage to find the nugget of goodness inside everyone.”

“It’s something that could get you any job you want once you graduate. Even in the art department at Ryder.” Brian finished, and then he was gone. 

Later, when Justin was taking down his art display, he was informed that someone bought his drawings of Molly and Brian. He couldn’t be sure who bought the one of Molly, but he’d bet big money that Brian was now the proud owner of his sketch of him and Gus.

[adickaboutspoons]

I dreamed of Gentlebeard; Cinderella-style. Stede was excited for the ball, but saw a young woman huddled under a table in a room off the hall & stopped to make sure she was ok.

"I'm fine; just light-headed," she said. He offered to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Along the way his glass slippers started hurting, so he took them off, tucked them in a room, & closed the door. Water fetched, he sat with the girl & chatted until she said she wanted to go lay down. He offered to get a servant to take her to a room she could use. "I know a place," she said. "Come with me?" "You must come here often to be so familiar with the place," he said, helping her up. She smiled. "Clearly you do not, but that's a refreshing change." Stede took her to the room & bid her goodnight. But now he had no idea how to get back where he belonged or where his shoes were. He started wandering. He found a room full of toys & books, &, suspended from the ceiling in the center, a swing big enough for an adult. He was going as high as he can when a footman came in, scolding him for being where he's not supposed to, & told him to leave quickly because the prince was coming. Stede's stocking feet slipped on the polished floor when he tried to stop, so he jumped, thinking he'd slide until he hit the door. But, whoops! someone opened the door he was inexorably skidding toward. "Look out!" he cried too late. He crashed into the man that just entered the room. A handsome man with long hair, a beard, & the loveliest eyes Stede had ever seen. Stede was mortified, profusely apologizing while disentangling himself, but the man was more amused than anything. He assured Stede it's fine, & asked what he's doing here instead of at the ball. Stede explained about the girl under the table. The man frowned. "So that's where the princess was hiding," he groused. Stede was astonished. "You mean I met a real live princess?" The man frowned some more; not unkindly - more like he was puzzled. "I think I would have noticed you at court," he began slowly, "so I suppose I can understand you not recognizing her straight away, but..." He indicated a large portrait on the wall beside the door. In my dream, Stede's near-sighted instead of needing reading glasses (no, YOU'RE over-identifying with Stede), & the mice stole his glasses while he dressed. Stede explained he "forgot" his glasses & could see the gentleman fine, but everything beyond that was a blur. The man was intrigued. “And you’re not cross with the princess for concealing her identity?” "I doubt it was anything personal," Stede mused, "I mean, she probably didn't mean to deceive - possibly she assumed I already knew. Besides, it must have been embarrassing for her to be caught hiding like that. It's hard when what's expected of you is contrary to what you want for yourself." The man stared at Stede. He opened his mouth to say something, but Stede remembered what the footman said. "Oh! We've got to get out of here! The prince is coming any minute!" The man chuckled. "You don't need to worry about that when you're with me." "Oh," Stede breathed, "Do you know him?" The man blinked a few times. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." "Well, glad as he might be to see you, I can't expect he'd have much patience for some stranger doing his best impression of Fragonard's 'The Swing' in the family wing." (Christ my subconscious is pretentious) The man laughed outright. "And for whom were you flashing your pretty ankles?" he wondered with a devastating grin. Flustered, Stede insisted, "That's not what he meant!" The more the man grinned, the more words turned to mush in Stede’s mouth. He cut himself off with a curt apology & said the man was welcome to stay, but Stede had to go find his shoes. The man seized Stede’s hand to keep him from running off. “Wait. I’m sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Why don’t I come help you?” “Won’t the prince be disappointed when he arrives & finds you’re not here?” "Pfft. The prince is a fucking bore,” The man flashed that rakish grin again. “Come on. Let's go!"

[3terna15unshin3]

hi!! as ”miss este”, so to speak, do you have any recs of romantic books?? Some that are about young adults who fall in love and all that and that make u feel the same way as fanfics do sorta…. i’m taking up reading again (honestly….. a lot to do with reading your fic - it was amazing) but i’ve not found a lot of romantic books that arent like super cheesy or for way older women or children. i want them in their 20s!!! so yes i noticed your books of ’23 and thought maybe you were the right person to ask??

this is like the best message ever to get😭💖 i love that you’re taking up reading again!!!

i’m so honored to be part of that and that you thought of me but honestly i haven’t been much into romance this year! most of my pile was either nonfiction or literary fiction but not much romance. i agree - most romance nowadays is sooo cheesy which is why i don’t really dabble much. i find that most of the ‘BookTok’ resurgence of reading is very millennial, i’ve tried to get into a few recommendations from there and the writing just is not great🥲🥲

i have loved Emily Henry’s books tho - Beach Read and People We Meet on Vacation are ones by her i read back in 2021. they’re not technically in the romance category they’re just shelved in general fiction so they’re not overly cheesy. very reminiscent to fanfiction, plenty of tropes that i love are in them! she has two more books and i’ve heard great stuff about them too, you should check those out! Beach Read is sort of enemies to lovers and PWMOV is friends to lovers :)))) i was kicking my feet and giggling when reading them.

otherwise, for something a bit different - i really love Persuasion by Jane Austen which is a classic and has a ton of pining! it is a bit hard to get into tho just bc Jane Austen can be a bit old timey and wordy but i listened to the audiobook on Spotify as i read back in 2021 as well and that made it way easier.

any other romance-adjacent i’ve read recently have been queer because i’m Gay hahaha. i read one called Body Grammar by Jules Ohman which is a queer coming of age book, there’s a long time best friends to lovers pipeline that runs through the whole thing that was sooo amazing to read. i was obsessed when i first finished it hahah thread of gold which is my second matty fic is sort of based off of it💀 (if you’re not opposed to queer stories I read another called Sirens & Muses which was amazing too. another coming of age artsy pretentious college love ish story drama!)

Normal People by Sally Rooney is also an all time fav of mine - devastatingly sad but definitely a story of two people falling in love. highly recommend!!!!

anyway sorry for rambling and i apologize that i don’t have many good romance recs but i hope these will suffice x

[lordderpathon]

The Tower of Remorse

By Lord Derpathon

Autumn is a funny season for monster hunters. It's often the last stretch of work before they either settle down during winter or turn bandit because of a lack of work. Most enormous creatures try to eat as much as they can before hibernating, others migrate, and many rarely venture from their territory. There are always exceptions, of course, what with Mu being a hotbed for predators, but it is always a hard time for any adventuring party. And it was incredibly difficult being my first contract against a monster.

After those eldritch spiders ransacked Dawnstead, I was running out of gold again. What I "borrowed" from the Holy See had run dry. The rates of local inns and transportation increased because of course they have. Not to mention needing more potions because of my lacerations I received from said spiders. So Nippy and I drifted our way to a remote castle town of Frodrick's Peak. The castle itself was worn, but the walls were still manned, the peasantry often conscripted into a militia, and because of this, the roads were decaying. It was much larger than the last town, and I heard a rumor there that there was an occult library, so my interest was peaked. Hopefully, it could offer some clue about my affliction.

The library itself was practically a fortress, but it bore banners of a certain mage cabal called The Guardians of the Arcane Truth. Pretentious, yes, but it was my best chance at finding out more about my curse. Unfortunately, the moment I arrived there I found that they only take in fellows of their order, or those with enough coin for entrance. The total price being five hundred gold halos. That would set a normal peasant for life, for many if they spent it wisely. Therein lies my conundrum. Should I break into the library or attempt to scrimp and save until I could pay my way in?

The former option was obviously out of the question. Mage cabals are notoriously paranoid about those who would steal their hoarded knowledge. It'd be likely that traps, wards, and summoned creatures would be there to guard their lore, not including the mages themselves. So I tried to look around for work the usual way alongside Nippy, whose spirits our predicament did not dampen in the slightest. We searched local inns, meeting halls, even barracks notice boards, but because of the oncoming winter, there was little gainful work to be found. Slumped outside of a stable and at my wits’ end, I figured that we head on and cut our losses. Until I met some unexpected company.

"Hola stranger, a little bird told me that ya might be interested in some knife work what needs doing," said a voice coming down the alleyway. "Inn jobs ain't up to snuff for someone of your talents. I can tell by that armor you wear you've seen things, ain't ya?"

"Show yourself. I have no interest in talking to voices whose speakers I cannot see," I replied.

"My apologies, good sir. Come this way into the alley and you'll meet me soon enough." I had little choice, so Nippy and I set off to the alleyway. Leaning beside a thick brick wall was a man in brown peasant garb with a dark hood. I could see two green piercing eyes behind it alongside the glint of a silver tooth.

"Much better now, don't you think?" he said. "I'm Arnolt, by the way. And I know plenty about you, my Lord." He snickered after saying it.

"Yes, yes, get it out of your system. Lord Derpathon is a silly name, but it is still my name. Now, what is this job you speak of?"

"Right to the point. I like that. I represent the local baron of the keep. One Dietrich Holdest. From an old respectable line, if you believe it or not. And he's been anxious to free a guard tower in his lands for some time. Seized by the dread beast of Frodrick's Peak, it is."

"And what exactly is this beast?"

"That's the funny thing. Nobody's seen it and lived. There have been some survivors, of course, but many accounts aren't precise enough. A shaggy beast that walks on two legs in the dark moon-tide, or any darkness really. Likes to attack at night. Can't say I don't blame it. Clever thing that beast."

"Alright then. How much for its head?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but last time I heard the price was near one thousand gold halos."

My eyes widened at that. A lucrative task for a single creature. This tower must be very important to the baron, I thought.

"Oh, and you have to bring its head as proof. Stipulation from his lordship."

"I figured as much. And how can I be sure the good lord will hold to his end of the bargain?"

"Right here." He pulled out a sealed envelope. "An engraved invitation with his seal, noble crest and all."

I took the letter. It had a red vellum seal with a crowned tower crest.

"I'll be damned, it is real. My thanks... Arnold."

"Arnolt. With a t in it. And best of luck slaying that fell beast, my lord." He took a mock bow before sauntering off into the darkness. I tried to follow him, but by the time I turned the corner, he was already gone. I opened the envelope and unfurled the letter before me. It read as follows:

The bounty for the wretched beast that occupies the post of Dyrton Crossroads Tower is hereby increased to 1,000 golden halos. The beast's crimes are many against his Lordship but chief among them are the following: raiding local caravans, devouring livestock, desecration of roadside shrines of the Holy See of the Luminous Halo, and most of all the kidnapping of Lady Brittany Ul-Holdest. His Lordship has taken up regentship of the region after his niece's disappearance, whom was rightly named ruler of the lands of Frodrick's Peak by her late father Augustine.

It was official. I just needed the proof of the deed. So after scribbling down a crude map of the roadways upon the back of the letter with a charcoal "pen" I found by the roadside, I walked towards the baron's keep. Hopefully, I could learn more from him with the invitation.

The keep itself was imposing, a stone bulwark at the heart of the castle itself. Two armored soldiers protected the gate with pikes, who immediately crossed their weapons to bar my way.

"Alright piss-ant, who in god's grace are you and what do you want? His lord gave us explicit orders to slay any uninvited solicitors, wise fellows, or other rouges who are likely gonna try his patience." One shouted.

"I have an invitation to speak with your lord about a monster he's been having difficulty with." I waved the seal right in front of them.

"Oh really? If anybody could just walk up to the manse without a care in the world, I'd bu- oh shit, that's the house crest. Fine. Open the gate!"

The massive door creaked open as the guards led me through. The interior well kept and clean. Various portraits lined the halls, often of haughty nobles, all looking down at me as I entered their domain, and the flicker of torchlight illuminated the well carved furniture. Two guards and what I assumed was a head servant led me through until I reached the audience chamber of Baron Holdest. He sat upon a throne on a raised platform, a stone seat with elaborate gems carved into it. A gaunt man, but he seemed oddly sure about himself. Standing beside him was a tall warrior from an unknown land, a curved sword at his hip, splintmail armor with a pointed helm, and a large frame with a thick trimmed mustache.

"Why are you here, stranger? We are not expecting visitors at this time, so make it quick." Holdest said.

"My lo- I mean, I'm here for the bounty. The one you set on the monster at the tower."

"Oh. I had almost given up hope on that venture." Suddenly his posture changed in his seat as if I had caught his interest. "Another hunter come to slay the dread beast occupying our tower. Well, I won't stop you. Off you go. Kill it and be done."

I hesitated at first, almost dumbstruck at this rude man's apparent dismissiveness. The bodyguard walked down and clenched his sword.

"You leave now, little runt." He said.

"I am Lord Derpathon!" I stomped my foot down. "I need more information on what I'm dealing with so I can do this job right! I have emptied a town of horrid brain spider parasites but a few weeks ago! So tell me what I need to know and I'll be on my way."

At first, there was silence. The Družina, that was the guard's title I learned later, gave a silent glare until his master suddenly burst out laughing.

"Wait, you can't be serious. That's your name?! Boris, what kind of wandering warrior calls himself such a stupid title!?"

"A stupid man, clearly. Slow minded too." Boris sneered. Looking at these two at the moment, they incensed me. I tried to take a few deep breaths to keep my cool, but these two shit-lords really knew how to piss me off, it seemed. Until the strangest thing happened.

"Wait, Boris, wasn't there a Lord Derpathon nearly ten years ago? I think he was that failed rebel who died in the battle of Rikkert's Bridge. I heard they routed his entire army, and he drowned in the river. What a character. Tries to slay his majesty, our king, and dies in a puddle."

For a brief second I saw a flash, a blur of screaming soldiers and blood slick cobblestone on a wide bridge. I felt fire in my veins and fear as a sword swung for my head. Then I returned to the present, back to Dietrich Holdest and his court.

“Oh dear, we've lost our guest. Boris escort this miscreant out until he finishes the job. As the most eligible bachelor in the region, I have other work to do than humor the help.” Holdest walked off to his other attendants as his thug Boris nudged me towards the exit.

“So you wouldn't know what the beast is, would you?” I asked him.

“It kills at night with fang and claw. I'll wager a month’s pay on your dead body,” he jeered at one of his fellows. He merely shook his head.

“I'll take that wager,” I retorted. “Five hundred gold halos if I win. If I die, you get my armor and sword.”

“What good is an empty hilt-” before he could finish, I ignited the Blade Aetherium. Boris stepped back and gazed in awe.

“Alright, I accept the wager. I'll just take that shiny sword off your stiff corpse, then.” He said.

“Fine by me.” I thought I rigged the bet in my favor. Having bested a mangled body horror and a town of shambling parasites, I felt in high spirits. It's all too easy to get swept up by your own pride. It feels good, but it can blind you to the reality in front of you.

I set out alongside Nippy after leaving the castle towards Dyrton tower. We were low on supplies and the sun itself was setting, but I was assured of my victory. Let it believe us to be vulnerable and we show our true strength. In hindsight, I’d no idea what we'd be up against, and it nearly got us both killed.

The roads were worn, much of the forest land overgrown to the point even small shrubs appeared out of potholes. Nature was clearly taking back the road. Maybe the monster had a hand in it. Our journey was uneventful until we found the remains of an attack.

A wagon split in half was surrounded by metal scraps and broken crates. There were claw-marks on the ground, rending even the cobblestones. I took up a metal scrap from the ground. It had rusted from exposure to rain, most likely, and saw canine like teeth punctures through it. I asked Nippy to sit near me. He did so willingly, and I inspected his teeth just to make sure. They were similar, but the one on the plate was much larger. Then I inspected as saw that this was a shoulder plate. Someone forged the steel expertly and even had a worn house crest. This thing was a knight killer, not uncommon in Mu, mind you, yet that it could bite so cleanly through plate armor was worrying. We also looked at the crates around the wagon. They'd been broken more haphazardly, so it was likely the work of looters and scavengers. I don't blame them. It can be tough out on the road and sometimes a dead man's coin and wares come in handy.

We continued onward for a few days. Nothing really interesting happened. A few suspicious travelers met us, burning foul incense to ward off monsters. This method can be effective against certain beasts but can often lead bandits right to you. These were mostly peasants, poachers, and other commoners who went to and from the city. Few of them talked about the beast, and when they did it was either a prayer to the gods or hastily ignoring it and moving further down the road. On the fourth day, after seeing a few road wardens ride past wearing Holdest's colors, dark green and blue half pattern on their tunics, we saw a glimpse of the tower.

It was enormous, more of a monolith than a keep, to be honest. There were no battlements but many large trees coiling around its base like serpents. The woods here were thick, it segmented thorn bushes and thickets to the trees almost like a natural barrier. This would make for a great druid circle, though many prefer stone circles and natural caves to large obelisks. As we drew closer, there were a series of way-stones along the road, boulder sized and full of strange carvings. They had a pictographic language, showing what appeared to be the sun and moon, people farming, woodland animals, but some had more sinister pictures. Giants assaulting a primitive folk and devouring them, stomping their villages into the ground. The land swallowing up the giants as what I thought were druids or magi fought back against them. This was the history of a long gone folk. I wonder if any of their words or works would be remembered save for that obelisk.

When nightfall came, we camped far enough from the site, a small near hollowed out stump on the tower's side of the road, a dim fire lighting our surroundings. Nippy had been successful foraging, having caught a few fish from a nearby stream. Using a cooking pot we scavenged from Dawnstead, I boiled one, Nippy ate the other with glee. I found some edible mushrooms as well and made a stew out of both. But as the night went on, Nippy was on edge. His back hair stood up and he snarled frequently. We were not alone. In fact, something had followed us. I stood up and readied my sword.

The trees rustled, Nippy began snarling again, and I saw something move in the woods. A large shape, taller than a man but built like one, rustled through the brush with ease. I stood ready, ignited my sword, and tried to observe my surroundings. I couldn't see a damn thing, save for the campsite. As I tried to look for it, the beast drew first blood, its claws raked my back as it pierced my armor. I screamed in agony as I fell to the ground. My armor had saved my life, but it still cut deep. I grit my teeth and stood. Nippy ran out into the forest, biting a hulking shadow in the trees, only for him to be flung off into the stump. That's when I saw the beast for the first time.

Werewolves in Mu are incredibly dangerous. You might know them from your fictions. Lupine man hybrid beasts cursed to hunt in the moonlight. Silver can hurt them, and they can only turn during a full moon. There are plenty of variations across the many realities. However, werewolves of Mu are different. They earn such forms by what I can only describe as a sympathetic spirit, often to a dying traveler or somebody who has been subject to immense abuse, to name a few reasons. However, many barely handle their newfound power and often go feral, mad with their empowered blood and strength, hunting all who dare trespass on their domain. There are sentient werekin out in Mu. They lurk amongst the wild places of the world. But the werewolf is one of their most dangerous kind. A killing machine honed by natural magics and primal fury, their gift passing on only through specific ceremony or spiritual benefactors. They are some of the few creatures that can stand against the more... eldritch beings and win. And one such warrior of the wilds stood before me.

She had a jet black coat of fur, yellow eyes, massive claws, and stood nearly eight feet tall. The wound that Nippy gave her from his bite was knitting up before my very eyes. She bared her fangs at me and growled. I fell down to the ground out of sheer fear. She then turned towards Nippy, barely able to stand, and stomped towards him.

“No! You will not have him!” I screamed. I lunged at the werewolf, only for her to catch my blade with her clawed hand. It cut into her flesh, but she still held on to it despite the pain. The beast then bit into my shoulder. Its fangs scraped against my armor until somehow enough force had pierced the plate and cut into my shoulder. I screamed out. I felt it crush my very bones until I slammed a fist into her eye. The wolf snarled briefly, and I slipped out of its grasp. I raised my sword and swung at her, fighting hard against the pain in my shoulder. However, she parried the strikes of my blade with her claws.

After a failed exchange of blows, she kicked at me and sent me hurtling through the forest, face down into a mud puddle. I spat out mud from my mouth, tried to scramble to my feet, but the slick surface of the mud made it difficult, my sword slipping out of my grasp. I straightened myself up after using a nearby rock as balance, but by that time, the wolf was already upon me again. She punched me in the back and I felt more bones break. I tried to scream in pain, but all that came out was a hiss as the air escaped my lungs. I was terrified I would die there, killed in a ditch unremembered and with my poor dog as this werewolf's next victim. Then, suddenly, I heard Nippy bark at the wolf.

He stood near my sword, now only a hilt since the blade didn't ignite, grasped it in his mouth, and drew the blade. It had a cold yellowish blue color to it, unlike my orange one, and the shape had changed too from an executioner's blade to that of a Messer, a single-edged bastard sword. He charged at the wolf and slashed at her leg, unable to sever the limb but carving a deep wound. I stood to my feet and saw Nippy hold his own against this werewolf, dodging her strikes and lashing out at her in quick hit-and-run attacks. However, her wounds would simply heal, and Nippy was rapidly losing ground.

Then the wolf used the terrain to her advantage. After Nippy slightly slipped in the mud, she cut into his belly with her claws. Blood spurted from his hide and he yelped in pain. I tried to scream as I limped towards the two as she held him by the neck. I grabbed a nearby jagged rock from a mud bank and tried to jab it into her back. It merely bounced off her hide as she continued to choke the life out of Nippy. I was so desperate to free Nippy I tried punching, grabbing, doing anything to make her stop. As if out of desperation I kicked her in the privates, some weird bar fight instinct going off as I tried to break her hold. That was the key, but unfortunately for me, she threw Nippy deep into the forest and I saw him tumble into a thorn bush. The werewolf looked at me and screamed, not a bestial howl, but a pained, strained scream of anguish and fury. I met her gaze and saw now that it was personal; she didn't just want me dead. I would suffer for such an action.

Her stance changed to something more human, akin to a boxer's stance, and then all hell broke loose. With claw and fist, the wolf pummeled me near the bank of a large creek. Every hit felt like a sledgehammer or a mace denting my armor. I was all but defenseless, too winded to continue, and too injured to really fight back. She then kicked me back in the privates, and I am thankful that I always wear protection down there, but it hurt like hell. As I fell to one knee in agony, she swung again for my face, yet oddly enough, I caught it. My arm buckled under the pressure and I twisted a muscle, but out of desperation I swung my right hand at her face, one of my fingers jabbed her in the eye. The werewolf screamed out, clawing at me, cutting me across my chest and forcing me into the creek.

I got caught in the current, my armor dragging me down into the deep. The force of it carried me far off, water filling my lungs as I desperately struggled to regain my footing. I gained a breath of fresh air after hitting a rapid, but more came. It was a miracle it did not kill me. I don't know how far the current took me down the creek, only that it was far enough from the wolf. I was concerned for Nippy, poor thing suffered as much as I did, but I had to focus on surviving. Gripping an exposed willow root while floating down, I hid underneath a small muddy grotto. Then I saw raindrops pour down and felt a sense of relief. Even though I fell into the water, it'd be difficult for the beast to track us, meaning we could survive this. For nearly two hours I hid, wet and cold, under the willow. I was afraid I'd die without saving my dear dog, but somehow I survived. By causality, or simple luck, it didn't matter. I was alive. I would find Nippy and finish this. This was no longer a mere hunt, it was a battle.

Once I felt secure, I drew my secret weapon. One last, small health potion. It wouldn't be enough to heal me fully, and it would be extremely dangerous to use with this many broken bones. But I had no choice, otherwise I'd be dead. I drank it straight, and my organs felt as if they were on fire. Bone knitted together, I felt my blood boil around my shoulder and chest. I shook violently, fearing I would die. But as quickly as it began, it ended. The pain didn't subside completely, but I felt I could move again. I waded up the river as far as I could, clenching my teeth and trying not to make a sound.

I only made it up to a pool near the rocks which had dashed me earlier. Lightning in the sky flashed before a loud thunderclap bellowed, nearly knocking me back into the current. I climbed out on a nearby rock, slowly, my joints aching the whole time. I continued to follow the creek despite the vines and brush in my way, finding the old clearing. The wolf had moved on; it seemed. There was no sign of Nippy or my sword. The rain pounded harder. I tried desperately to look for any sign that Nippy might be alive. I glimpsed some bushes on the other side of the creek bank, their branches bent. He may have broken his fall, or something else moved through there. It was hard to tell in the storm. I shivered as the cold water poured down on me, my boots filling with water. I needed to find some shelter and fast, lest I catch a deadly cold from the elements.

I wondered aimlessly for a while. It seemed like a good hour or two before I found an old stone cottage. The roof was intact, but vines and thornbushes had claimed the building for nature. It would have to do. I crawled through an open window, despite a few thorns digging into my arm. I made it through. The interior was barren, save for some rotting logs, moss, and mold. A large hollow log lay inside as well. The only signs that it was a house were the foundation. Stripped out of my armor, shivering, realizing my clothes too were soaked, I removed them. I felt exposed, like an open wound. I'm not used to being naked so often. It reminds me of how fragile we are.

I curled up in a ball away from the mold and fungus, a nice dry spot. I warmed my chest with my arms. Friction helped soothe me. Rest wasn't easy that night. Between the thunder, I swear I could hear howling. The wolf was relentless, but it was a big forest with a thunderstorm. I guess I got lucky. If there were no storm, I'd likely be dead. Morning came, I thanked the Shepard god I did not dream. When I stood up, my armor stood in front of me. I hadn't heard it during the night and the pieces were scattered. It shocked me initially, but I wasn't afraid. Part of me knew this had happened before. My clothes were near as well. They had dried oddly enough. I didn't care at first. I focused on the moment at hand and dressed myself in my garb. In hindsight, this is concerning, some other force is at play and I'm unwittingly part of it.

I exited the house via the window again. I looked at my surroundings. If I lacked weapons, I would have to improvise. The house I had left had thorn like vines, the stones of the house shaped beforehand, and there was plenty of wood and plant matter nearby. I sharpened a crude stone's head into a serviceable knife, then got to work. Cutting down vines first, looking to see which ones were the strongest. I then used it to cut a healthy-looking branch off a tree. Wrapping thorny vines around it, a makeshift weapon that would have to do for now. I then remembered the old ambush site I found down the road earlier. The cart was damaged, but there could be nails there or other scrap metal. It took the better part of a day to reach it, retracing my steps from where our fight was to our old camp and back to the road, but I managed. It was still there, and better yet, some of the metal remained despite the storm. I disassembled it as best I could, taking only a meager amount of nails. The wagon's spokes were metal, so I tried as best I could to add them to my makeshift weapon. But the nails were the valuable treasure. Using some vine parts, I made six caltrops, sharpening the edges efficiently. By then it was sundown, but I had all the weapons I could scrounge so I headed towards the monolith. I was sure that was the beast's lair.

Making good time by simply going forward, I reached the monolith before the sun had truly set. I still had light enough to fight with for at least a few more minutes. The monolith stood by the roadside, oddly enough, more way-stones surrounding it. The closer I looked at it, I noticed two things: an aetheric energy coiling around it and a hollowed out stairwell leading inside. I felt a strange shiver, almost akin to goosebumps when I saw it. I then heard the wolf's snarl. Looking frantically, I couldn't find her in the brush until I looked up at the tower. Climbing down its narrow build almost like a spider with its apparent speed and force of her claws, the wolf descended the tower and growled as it saw me. I threw the caltrops outward and gave a swift salute with my makeshift club towards the wolf and stood at the ready.

My gesture puzzled her. If some part of her knew the salute or thought I was mad, I do not know, but swiftly regained her posture as she charged towards me. She evaded the caltrops with ease; I figured they could deny her valuable space for footing. Her lupine feet, while capable of quickly covering ground, might have some issues with moving to the sides, I hoped. I dodged her first claw strike easily, then struck her side with the jagged edges of my weapon. It barely left any marks, let alone a scratch. Thorns and nails were ineffective against its hide. I would have to strike at more vulnerable areas like the joints and throat in order to have any sort of effect.

The werewolf howled at me with such a force I nearly fell into the mud. Before I could compose myself, she had struck me with another claw, punching right through my armor. I hissed as my ribs broke. Blood spurted so quickly as I fell to the ground. I flipped myself over and quickly stood as she tried to bite my throat, quickly thrusting my weapon into her open maw. She bit down and barked in pain. I scratched the inside, but the weapon itself shattered. Spitting out metal scraps and thorns as we both struggled to our feet, the wolf was once again on the offensive. I dodged claws, teeth, and even a powerful kick as I retreated from the clearing. I sprinted back after a failed lunge, right in the middle of my caltrops. She howled again. My ears felt like they were going to burst as I raised my hands in front of my head as an instinctual attempt to block it. I held my footing. I felt stiff at first, but then, as I lowered my hands from my head, I saw a faint glow from my gauntlets. My whole armor had it, in fact, like steam from a boiling pot, coating my armor. In layman’s terms, it could harness residual magical energy and empower me with it, but I am not invulnerable to spells.

I took a new stance before the wolf, fists raised like a pit fighter. Muscle memory kicking in and regaining long lost techniques. I then went on the offensive. Even though I knew that one true hit would be the end of me, I felt confident. I gave two quick jabs to her side before dodging back away from a retaliatory strike. Her hair stood on end and pounced on me. Pinned at first, I struck her nose and throat before jumping back. My breathing became erratic. My wounds were catching up despite my newfound advantage. I kicked out at her leg, right at a joint near a foot, and struck her aside in the head with a followed punch. I had to be careful, though. One wrong step and I'd be feeling a caltrop pierce my boot or trip me into the mud. Both were a death sentence in this fight.

I couldn't keep fighting like this forever. However, my wound ached and my vision flickered. The wolf's shoulder checked me as I collapsed into the mud. She then tried to stomp on my head. I rolled and stabbed her foot with a caltrop. She howled in agony. Seizing the advantage, I kicked in her knee. I heard a snap as her left leg broke, and she collapsed into the mud. I yanked another caltrop from the mud and stuck it into her neck, finding a vein and slitting it. Blood spurted from the beast as she raged. Clutching her behind her neck, I continued to stab as massive arms elbowed me. I almost let go as the caltrop fell from my grip, but I still held on. I put the wolf into a headlock and desperately clung there. After a struggle, her arms wavered, she gave out an almost silent hiss, and fell limp.

I crawled my way out from under her, pulled off my helmet, and vomited. It was bloody and filled with bile, and I scampered to my feet. The werewolf was dead. Yet I felt no sense of triumph at having won. No, I felt shame overcome me while I stood there in front of the obelisk. Here was an animal, aggressive and territorial to an extreme, dead in her own home by my hands. It wasn't like I was minding my own business. I wasn't some hapless traveler. I came to hunt her, and I killed her. Shame best describes of how I felt that day, one of many sins remembered or otherwise, but this one sticks to me like no other. Collapsing to my knees, I wept. Nippy was likely dead. I was alone, and I made this tragedy happen. The worst was yet to come.

The wolf's body began to shift and change. Mangy fur faded and turned to dust, and in place of the werewolf was the body of a woman. I couldn't tell her age, either from the mud or not bearing to look at what I'd done. Her brown eyes were glazed over, looking at the sky. Tears strung down my face as I gibbered. I've done something terrible, and nothing I could do could amend the damage. Even as I donned my veil and helmet, I cried. I just stood there and wept till my eyes dried up and I looked at my bloody mud covered gauntlets.

The sun set as I remained distraught. I didn't even bother moving. I just stood there in a haze, failing to hear galloping and the twang of a crossbow bolt. It hit me straight in the back and I fell over into the bloodied mud. I could still hear the horses and a familiar voice.

“I didn't think this could have worked out so perfectly. All obstacles in my way gone in a single swoop. And to think I have that nitwit dead in the mud to thank for it all. Boris, collect my niece, would you? I think she might have soiled herself and that won't fit our cover story now, won't it?” The damned arrogance of Dietrich Holdest echoed across the area. My guilt gave way to anger, but I remained stiff still. The bolt punctured my plate, but not enough to pierce my skin.

“Benny, stick your spear into that dead errand boy, just in case,” Boris said.

“Ya don't think he's already dead? I mean, he was just standing there all blo-”

“Do it or you don't get paid.”

I heard footsteps approach me, and I saw the ground illuminate as torch fire lit up the mud. The bolt was within reach of my arm. All I needed to do was grab it. I felt my blood boil, knowing that this scum would live not only to hurt more for his ambitions but that I was a part of his sick scheme to begin with. None of them would leave this clearing alive.

I sprung up and yanked the bolt from my armor, standing before a stunned guard. I stuck the bolt into his eye as he screamed, thrusting it into his brains before grabbing his spear.

“You idiots! How is he still alive? Shoot him now!” Holdest said. I got a better look at his group. Aside from Boris and the lord, there were four horses among them all, a crossbowman on his mount, a road warden with a spear, and at least five other armed guards. I lifted the dying guard before me as his comrade fired again, a bolt punching through his lung. Throwing the body aside, I hurled the spear towards Holdest himself. I missed the body but grazed his leg. He screamed out as he fell from the saddle into the mud, his horse racing away.

The footmen charged at me with weapons raised. Boris dismounted to tend to his lord as the crossbowman rode off and reloaded his weapon. The spear wielding horseman charged towards me ahead of the others, unaware of the caltrops buried in the mud. His poor horse stepped on one, buckled backwards and throwing off its rider before galloping off. I tried to spring upon him before his mates would reach me, but with my wounds, I merely stumbled. They helped him up, and they surrounded me. I dodge a few spear blows until a guard with a sledgehammer smacked me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me.

“Hold him lads, don't want no funny business now.” A guttural voice came from that sallet helmed thug. I tried to struggle as two others grabbed me. I threw mud in one’s face and he recoiled, trying to get the mud out of his face and beard. Tackling the other, I punched him in the neck, but before I could finish him, the hammer slammed into my ribcage. I coughed up blood as he knocked me over onto my back. The armsman with the hammer planted his boot on my neck and pressed my head into the mud.

“You're not gonna gut another one of my mates tonight, you fucking bastard!” He shouted. Then he screamed as a bright blue blade punctured through his chest. It retracted as he collapsed to the side. Over him stood Nippy, battered and scarred but still clenching the Blade Atherium in his teeth. As the other guards charged him, he leapt forward, slashing at them with the sword and slicing off one's arm. I was relieved that Nippy survived, but we had to end this before it drew out any longer. I took a sword from one of the fallen guards and, while the others were recovering, hurled it at the crossbowman as he rode for a second pass. He fired a bolt first, which struck me in the leg, but the sword impaled him and he yelled out in pain as his horse carried him off into the forest.

Nippy could see to the others as they fought. I trudged through the mud to reach Holdest.

“Oi, bastard!” I heard as a hammer once again swung towards me. I dodged the hammer head quickly and faced the grizzled guard with the sallet again. He somehow stood, wounded, and held his weapon at the ready. The hammer swung at me again, but I was ready for it. I grabbed the hilt, twisted it, and seized his weapon before smashing his right arm with it. He howled before grabbing the hilt and head-butting me, breaking my nose, and knocking me into the mud. Yet as he tried to draw a dagger, he suddenly collapsed and fell silent. Some internal injury, I guess. As I finally stood up, the smug grin of Boris greeted me.

“Looks like you can fight after all. I've been needing a worthy win since I got to this dump.” He held his sword aloft before drawing it from the scabbard, throwing aside the sheathe and raising the blade. It held a slight curve at the end. I could see faint glowing runes against the blade. I let the hammer rest on my shoulder, catching my breath while I could.

“I just slew a beast that could cut through your armor like it was nothing. What makes you think this will be a win?” I retorted.

“Simple. You're good at killing monsters. I'm good at killing people.” He lunged at me in an instant and I barely parried the blade with the hammer. I felt a jolt run through my body as he drew another blade from his back, slashing into the mud and covering my helmet. As I tried to wipe away the grime he was on me in an instant as I saw the glint of a second sword flash from behind him as he cut into my leg. Then my arm forcing the hammer from my grip. He was fast, efficient. Clearly an expert swordsman. His strikes were rapid and precise, always aiming for my joints and getting in many hits, and if I tried to parry him, his magic sword would give me quite the shock. If I didn't end this, soon he would have his win.

I lifted the veil from my face and looked straight at him for a brief instant. He met my gaze, and it bombarded us both with horrific visions. My mind felt like it was boiling as I beheld a ravenous world of mouths and tendrils and the laughter of things that should not be. It is a tactic I am loath to do since I fear one such vision might shatter my sanity entirely. While gritting my teeth and donning my veil, I bought myself some time.

“You cursed, little rat! Killing you would be a favor to this world! Fighting dirty won't save you now!”

“Said the kettle to the pot,” I retorted. I looked to Nippy and saw that he only had one guard left on his front, the others slain.

“You slow minded little bitch! I'll kill you!” Boris again pressed his attack as I ran to Nippy. I held out my hand, and he threw me my sword. Grasping it, the blade changed from the Messer to an executioner's greatsword again, brimming with orange and yellow energy. I parried his strikes with ease, his weapon no longer jolting me. Armed again, I pressed the attack, despite my aching body I had the reach to take to the offensive. Each blow hammering against his swords until I shattered the regular blade he held at the hilt.

“How the hell is this possible!? Fall over! Die! You shouldn't be standing like this at all! What the hell are you!?” He screamed out in a last desperate assault, his sword casting arcs of electric energy all over the field illuminating us both. As he moved in for the kill, I smashed the hilt of my sword against his head, staggering him. He parried my next blow as I went for the head, but I was really aiming for his sword. His sword might have been magical, but it was nothing compared to my skill at arms. I sundered the blade as energy exploded before us. Shards of metal ricocheted off my armor, but Boris wasn't so lucky and one dug into his hand. He reached on the ground to grab a spear, but I leapt forward and cut off both his hands. He hissed out in pain before I struck at his neck. I didn't decapitate him, he dodged it, but my sword still hit his neck, searing the windpipe shut. I left him to suffocate, walking away as he clawed at his own neck in vain.

I limped over to Lord Holdest. The fight long since was over. The fires from his party's torches had died out, and so did his retainers. Straining with a wounded leg, he had a boot caught in the mud and had tried to limp away.

“How is this possible? How can one man-”

“Shut up, you pathetic little worm. Why did you put up the bounty? Why send so many hunters to their deaths and worse still, put a hit out on your niece!” I almost snarled, talking to him like that. I could see aetheric energy coil to the sides of my helm, the glow illuminating a horrified look on Holdest's face.

“How did you know?”

“The moment your minion shot me in the back. I didn't pay attention at first, I thought this was some simple job. I... was wrong. So horribly wrong. How long did you try to have your niece killed?”

“That doesn't matter anymore. You killed her, after all. But it doesn't have to end this way.” He slowly stood to his feet. “Why not work for me? This whole thing can all be forgiven. I'm now the sole owner of this entire region. You want gold? I can give it to you. You want spells? Magics? I can call in favors. I'm far more valuable alive than dead. I'm sure we can work something out like civilized men.”

“Civilized men don't have their nieces murdered.”

“She was a beast!” He fell to his knees. “Under her rule, my territory would collapse. A beast cannot rule a castle. But a lord... a lord can. I should have been an heir by right, but my idiot brother wouldn't have that! He'd put my holdings at risk to the whims of a young maiden who didn't even know how to raise an army! Poisoning my brother was a mercy. But his whelp of a daughter had to leave the castle grounds and run off into the forest. I figured she'd had either died of exposure or something, but I never thought she, of all people, would become a beast!”

I was stunned by this revelation. A man who has so much would murder his own kin for the sake of titles, gold and land. I knew what the nobility often did, anybody who lives in Mu does, but hearing it firsthand was chilling. A man who willingly abandoned empathy for power and would do anything for it. I raised my sword and walked towards him.

“Th-think about what you're doing! I'm unarmed!” He said. I kicked a dagger towards him.

“Pick it up!”

“What about my family? How could you kill a father in cold blood?”

“I doubt the most eligible bachelor in the land even has a family to go back to. You already played with your hand. Now you must pay for what you've done.” I walked towards him.

“I can cure your curse! I know powerful people! Don't throw this chance away! Spare me an-” It was over in an instant. I stabbed him in the chest and he collapsed into a heap. I walked back towards Nippy. He had long since finished his fight and I simply collapsed.

For what seemed like hours, I was out cold. I didn't care about the cold or the mud. I felt numb and my wounds ached. Later that night, I scavenged around for supplies. I got lucky. Boris had a healing potion on his person. After the painful experience of my ribs and nose knitting back together, I called it a night and slept outside the obelisk. In the morning, I found what wooden debris I could and made a pyre for Brittany. She deserved a proper funeral, for what it was worth. Nippy whimpered as she caught flame. I felt the same way. We were guilty of it, after all. I uttered a prayer to the Shepard god before heading inside the obelisk for the day. I needed some sleep, after all. What seemed like hours passed, with nothing happening until I heard a familiar voice hum a tune I swore I knew, but could not remember it for the life of me.

“Good morning, your lordship. Sleep well?” it said. A pit formed in my stomach as I realized who said it.

“Arnolt.” the moment I said his name he appeared before me, I could see his green eyes glimmer like jewels in the light. I tried to stand, but could not move. I heard Nippy growl and felt him jump away from me in an instant.

“And to you what a magnificent job you have done today.” Arnolt gave a grin, revealing his teeth. Something was odd about the silver teeth. They looked so real that I don't think even a skilled silver smith or mage could create such things. And his eyes, too, seemed to have a metallic glint.

“Before you say anything, I just want to say this has gone much better than I thought it would. A whole noble line dead and gone, the leyline freed. Oh, and I saw that trick with your armor, too. You truly are one impressive warrior. And a hard day’s work is good enough for well-earned pay, I say.” I felt the coin purse fall upon me, filled near to the brim.

“You can keep it. I don't want your blood money.”

“Blood money? That's a bit rich coming from a mercenary like you, isn't it? You did this entire job on the presumption of killing a living creature. That too counts as blood money, doesn't it?”

“You...” he was right. I did venture into the forest with the intent of killing. I'm as much to blame for what happened here as any other.

“See. You get what you deserve after all and you deserve your coin. It was hard won. I assume you'll blow it on getting into a library for your curse? Anybody else would spend it on essentials, maybe a day out on the town. The choice is yours, after all.”

“Leave us!” I ignited my sword and pointed it at him. “I never want to see you again!”

“Is that a threat?” Arnolt seemed to chuckle. “I'll tell you this once. It isn't wise to threaten me. It never has been for anyone my benefactors take interest in.”

“You couldn't defeat me even on your best day. Even if you harnessed some incredible power for yourself, you'd never win. So be a good lad and lower the sword.” He was serious, and a pit formed in my stomach. Looking down at me, I saw his eyes shaded, the emerald glow as sharp as a knife's edge. I lowered my sword immediately. The blade fizzled out and left naught but a few embers. He simply smiled and walked away.

“We'll meet again, my lord. You've proven yourself useful and there is always more work to be done.” He tipped his cap and walked towards the forest. I couldn't tell if he was walking on air or if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but he vanished. Not before leaving with one last silver toothed grin.

I learned a lot on that day. I now try to learn as much as possible before really setting out on a job. Even though I've wronged others, hurt others, I want to do better. I want to be better. To aid rather than harm. That's the hard part of it, though. It's easy to admit that something isn't your fault, and sometimes circumstance can lead people down dark roads. Even though tricked, I still bear responsibility for what happened. I killed Brittany. Some of you might say it was self defense, but I knew what I wrought when I took the contract. I still fight. Mu is unforgiving and one should defend themselves, but I still strive to change not only my surroundings but myself as well. To leave this world in a better state than when I found it. It won't be easy, it never is easy to change yourself. So now I search for context before and during a monster hunt. Not all monsters are wicked, and not all people are good. That line blurs so very often, and it is up to us to learn in order to improve. Since then, I've learned an open mind is a powerful tool, not just out of guilt or shame, but to hope for a better tomorrow.

[saltygeode]

FR LIKE OH MY GOD

ii3’s claim that Balloon was just as bad as Knife or Nickel just makes the story worse. Full stop. The most interesting arcs (in my opinion) in S2 stem from Balloon’s relationships with other characters, and the way S2 establishes these relationships is important: everyone distrusts Balloon and thinks he’s an ass, but his tomfoolery didn’t seriously hurt anyone. The other contestants (aside from Suitcase) treat Balloon as an inconvenience at best and rival at worst. He’s a loser and a punching bag character.

At the beginning of S2, Balloon has barely anything to repent for. A lot of the characters’ hatred of him comes off as annoyance rather than any deep feelings of betrayal. Balloon’s behavior put a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, but that’s about it. Furthermore, Balloon’s nasty behavior being just an act (by his own admission) puts him on a completely different playing field from characters like Knife and Nickel. Knife’s character arc throughout S2 is about self-improvement and trying to “play the game right.” He makes an active effort to be careful, respectful, and blunt. He tries to unlearn old behaviors and adopt new ones. Nickel’s character arc in S2 is being a self-destructive bully (which I’ll get into later) and his arc in S3 is being the bane of my existence. Balloon on the other hand doesn’t need to learn how to treat others better. He doesn’t need to challenge any previous ideas he held because he’s already come to the conclusion that what he did was wrong. The only thing he needs to do is muster up the bravery to apologize and the self-worth to make new friends. Balloon has improving to do, but it’s far less than Knife and Nickel.

I find the Grand Slams fiasco so engaging because Nickel OVERREACTED to Ballon’s presence. Balloon was not a threat. He was a mild inconvenience at worst. Nickel’s decision to go above and beyond, to try and get rid of Balloon at every turn, to berate him and set him up for failure was what made Nickel interesting to me. Nickel was not a rational actor trying to distance himself from a toxic peer, nor was he a victim imperfectly defending himself. He was an overprotective, insecure bully who let his jealously cloud his judgement and prevent him from fostering the friendships he so desperately wanted to protect. I loved Nickel because he was fault for his downfall.

None of Nickel’s behavior toward Balloon in S2 was justified. When S3 claims that Ballon was just as bad as Nickel and used similar tactics, it’s retroactively making S2 worse by 1.) just being inconsistent and 2.) implying that Nickel was justified in his fear and defensiveness, or at the very least that he wasn’t overreacting.

Look. I like to write needlessly long essays about the impacts decisions have on a text, but I think the previous user said it best. Balloon just wasn’t that bad.

I wanna talk about how this transition from “Balloon was kind of a jerk” to “Balloon was a manipulator just like Nickel” happened, and I have a few theories, but tbh I’m tired and don’t want to pretentiously ramble any longer.

TLDR; ii3’s writing makes me want to chew through drywall. /neg

Literally all Balloon did in s1 was insult their teammates, slingshot Sslt into the gorge (which was THE CHALLENGE, and Pickle tripped over Rocky and let go too early so that wasn’t even their fault tbh), and made an alliance with the INTENT to manipulate (but never did on screen). Yet the entire ii cast acts like he poisoned their crops, killed their mother, and kicked their dog

[writtenwhalien]

all of you: forever (epilogue)

Park Jimin is the man of your dreams... and now you have him, forever.

pairing ↠ ceo!jimin x reader

genre ↠ friends to lovers | arranged marriage AU (fluff, angst, smut)

word count ↠ 7535

A/N: still haven’t processed that we’re at the end of this series, but i reckon it will hit in a few days when i’m no longer reminding myself that i have to hurry up and work on it 😅thank you so much to every one of you who have been reading this series, and i hope you enjoy this epilogue. (i’ll admit i’m feeling kinda sucky bc i’m not happy with how my writing is turning out these days but..)  i tried my hardest to complete their love story like they deserve 🥺 also, i want to say thank you to @kithtaehyung once again for making the banner that i love so much… you’re the best ryen!! 💓

series masterlist

The grand gates of the house appear once the car goes around the corner, no longer hidden from view by the trees that surround the estate. 

You remember the last time that you were driving up this road with Jimin, how anxious you had been. In hindsight, you don’t blame yourself at all, knowing all the events that would occur after — you had good reason to feel unsure. 

But this time around, it’s completely different. 

Jimin told you in more detail how everything had happened with his grandparents and what his grandmother said. It’s been two weeks since then, and Jimin has since spoken to his grandparents again, and both of them had asked him if they could come and visit you to apologise for everything that’s happened.

At first you were hesitant, remembering the last time Deok-su invited you over only to set you up and have Bong-cha turn up too, but Jimin assured you this was different. He said he’s seen a change in his granddad, and because you trust Jimin, you trust Deok-su.

So you’d offered to visit theirs instead, not wanting Deok-su to have to travel even though he said he was fine to do so, but you still decided to go to their home. Although you still harbour some strong negative feelings towards him for everything he put you through, you made sure you’re the ones to visit them so Deok-su won’t tire himself, because you still have respect for him as Jimin’s granddad, but only as that.

As a man whose values are questionable, you think he still needs to earn your respect. 

When you told Jimin that, he completely understood and agreed with you. 

You can tell that Jimin is still upset about how his granddad has treated you, knowing it’s caused irreparable damage to the relationship you could’ve had with Deok-su, but Jimin also knows you well enough to know that you’re not one to hold on to grudges. 

If Deok-su apologises, you’re fine to forgive him, and sure it’ll take you a while to really move past it but you’re sure that if he means it, it won’t be difficult to do so. 

But you’re most certainly not about to let anyone walk over you and unless Deok-su ensures that everyone  — those other pretentious people who think just like him, such as his friends — give you respect as well, you’re not willing to accept his apology. 

However, like Jimin assured you, he’s seen a change in his granddad and you hope that this time around, things will be different, better.

Jimin pulls up in the drive and as soon as the engine is off, he takes your hand before you can get out. 

He’s looking at you with slight concern in his expression. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, placing your other hand over his. 

Jimin sighs, squeezing your hand. “I know you said you’re okay to do this, but are you sure?” He brings your joined hands to rest over your tummy. “I don’t want you to get stressed out at all, and my grandparents will completely understand if you choose not to do this now.” 

Smiling, you bring your hand to his cheek and smooth his worry lines with your thumb. “I’m good, I promise. As long as I have you with me, I know I’ll be fine.”

Jimin smiles too, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss you softly. “You do, always.” He leans in and kisses your lips. “Thank you, Y/N.”

It’s a quiet thanks, one coming from a genuine place, and you know that Jimin knows you’re mostly doing this for him. His grandparents mean a lot to him, and after everything, you’re still aware that Deok-su has limited time so any amends should be made as soon as possible — for Jimin’s sake. 

“And you’re still okay to tell them today too?” he asks, his voice gentle and letting you know there’s no pressure on you.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m almost three months so I think it’s a good time and soon I might not be able to hide it, but um…” you pause, hesitating slightly.

Jimin notices and squeezes your hand gently. “What is it?”

“You’re sure it won’t be a problem for them, you know, ‘cos we’re not married?”

“Babe,” Jimin takes your face in his hands. “I’m so sure. I know my grandparents have their issues and if this was a few months earlier, yeah my granddad might’ve thought differently about it, but now this is something I know they’ll both be thrilled about, and definitely my parents. Plus, it’s not the same as when they were younger and they know that.”

Relaxing, you give Jimin a small smile. “Okay.” 

You grab your purse and start getting out of the car, and as always, Jimin rushes to help you. 

Jimin hadn’t told his family about the pregnancy yet — when he first found out and told his grandparents he wasn’t going to marry Bong-cha, he kept it to himself despite how excited he was because he didn’t want them to think it was influencing his decision. Jimin had made up his mind then that he wasn’t going to go ahead with the marriage, whether you were pregnant or not. Now, he wants to tell them with you at his side. 

Before you can start walking towards the main path, Jimin pulls gently on your hand to hold you back. 

“Y/N…”

You turn to look at him, and he smiles, stepping closer as his eyes roam your face. 

You smile back naturally, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah?” 

“You know I am going to ask you to marry me one day, right?” 

Your heart flutters, hearing those words aloud for the first time, and your smile grows wider. “I know,” you answer quietly. “And you know I’ll say yes, right?”

Jimin’s hand gently caresses your cheek as he leans in to kiss you softly. “I do.” 

After exchanging a few more gentle kisses as you stand in each other’s arms, Jimin takes your hand and you both walk towards the front door together. 

Jimin looks at you before he rings the doorbell, and you nod in reassurance. 

You’re surprised when there’s not a housemaid answering the door, but Eun-ae and Deok-su themselves. 

“Y/N, Jimin,” Eun-ae beams as she lets you in. “Thank you for coming.”

You nod and smile in return, stepping into the house with Jimin, returning Eun-ae’s hug when she embraces you in her arms. 

She hugs you as warmly as she did the first time she met you, but now she holds it a little longer to whisper quietly in your ear — “Really, I’m grateful for you accepting our invitation, Y/N. I hope we can make up for our mistakes.”

You don’t respond with words, rather a gentle rub of her back as you pull away and smile. 

Then it’s Deok-su who speaks, stepping towards you and Jimin. “Y/N, it’s lovely to see you, dear.” His eyes keep flitting away from you as he speaks, and if you’re not mistaken, he seems almost… nervous?

Jimin is circling the back of your hand with his thumb, a gentle reminder that he’s here for you.

“Likewise, Mr Park,” you smile, stepping back a little. You don’t expect him to try to hug you like Eun-ae did, but even if he wants to, you don’t. So you stay close to Jimin’s side to avoid it. 

Deok-su smiles, somewhat awkwardly, but Eun-ae is already ushering you towards the veranda, talking excitedly of the dinner she had planned. 

As you approach the backyard, your face breaks out into a smile when you see Geun-woo. He’s stuffing his face with some canapés that the maids are putting out, but when he sees you coming, he grins and swallows as fast as he can. 

You let go of Jimin’s hand and approach him right away, not even waiting for him to finish swallowing to greet you before you embrace him in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you, Geun-woo,” you grin, moving back and brushing some loose crumbs away from his shirt. 

Having now swallowed his food, Geun-woo smiles warmly. “I’ve missed you too, boss.” 

You chuckle at the name, bringing him in for another hug before turning towards Jimin’s parents while Jimin greets Geun-woo too, despite having just seen each other the other day. 

“Told you everything would work out,” Geun-woo smiles at Jimin, hugging him briefly. 

Jimin chuckles, ruffling his hair. “I guess I should listen to my wise younger cousin more often, eh?”

“That you should,” Geun-woo responds smugly. 

Mi-jeong, Jimin’s mom, is the first to approach you. “Y/N,” she greets you happily, hugging you just as her mother-in-law did. “I’m so happy to see you again, my love.”

“You too, Mrs Park,” you reply, turning to her husband. “Mr Park, it’s great to see you again.”

Pil-woo smiles, stepping forward and embracing you in a hug. “You really should call me Pil-woo now,” he says. 

“You got it,” you smile, moving back as Jimin walks with you to sit down. 

Eun-ae comes and sits on the other side of you, and Deok-su sits beside her.

“You look very well, Y/N,” she beams. “I do hope my grandson has been taking wonderful care of you.”

“Oh, definitely,” you answer, turning to Jimin and smiling. “He always looks after me.”

“Good…” Eun-ae purses her lips, glancing around at Mi-jeong, Pil-woo and Geun-woo, before turning back to you. “We owe you an apology, Y/N, my husband and I more so than anyone else. We were fools to disrespect you as we did, and I don’t believe any words can make up for it, but I should hope that with time, if it’s something you want, we can show you just how sorry we are.”

You’re feeling pretty awkward, but you know you should respond properly, so you do. “Sure,” you nod. “I know how important you all are to Jimin, and if you’re important to him, you’re important to me.” 

Eun-ae smiles gratefully, but it’s Deok-su who you’re watching. He nods in understanding, but he doesn’t smile or even look your way. 

As Eun-ae starts going in excitedly about the dinner she has planned for you tonight, you begin to wonder if maybe Deok-su hasn’t changed. The fact that he can’t even look at you seems like it, and even though Jimin said he’s seen a change in him, you don’t feel notice it… until ten minutes later. 

Eun-ae has been gone for a few moments, having gone to check on the dinner, and that leaves no one between Deok-su and you. 

While Jimin is engaging in a conversation with his parents and you and Geun-woo are just listening, Deok-su says your name. 

It’s quiet, as though he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, and when you turn to look at him, he’s looking at you with a serious face. 

“If you’re okay with it, may I have a word?” he asks. “Privately.”

Having heard this, Jimin pauses and looks at you. “Babe, I can come with you if you want,” he says, disregarding his granddad’s wish to speak alone with you — he only cares about making sure you’re comfortable.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I can go.” You turn to Deok-su who nods and stands up. 

Just as you’re about to get up, Jimin holds your hand and kisses your cheek, murmuring quietly, “You can walk away any time you want, okay?”

“Okay.” You place a kiss on his cheek in return, before getting up to stand with Deok-su who is waiting for you. 

He smiles and turns as he begins to walk towards one of the paths in the massive backyard. 

For a moment, you walk in silence together and you start to feel somewhat anxious, unsure of what he wants to say and why he’s taking so long to say it. And then—

“My grandson is truly enamored with you, Y/N.” He glances at you as he says it, a lilt to his voice which you can’t quite decipher properly but it seems almost… teasing?

“And I’m just as enamored with him,” you answer, unsure of where this conversation is going. 

Deok-su nods, the smallest of smiles on his lips. “He is lucky to have you.”

You stop walking, and you’re unable to hide the slight bitterness in your voice when you respond, “You didn’t always think so.”

Deok-su turns to look at you, the smile disappearing from his face. He glances towards Jimin where he’s sitting on the veranda with the rest of his family. When you also glance in that direction, you see Jimin is watching you both. You smile and nod, turning back to Deok-su so as not to worry Jimin. 

“You asked to speak with me, Mr Park. I’m sure it wasn’t to make meaningless comments over how much Jimin and I care for one another… you already know that. You’ve known from the start.”

Lowering his head as though ashamed, Deok-su sighs. “You’re right, I did. I apologise for pulling you away from everyone else just now, I find it difficult to say what I have to say in front of so many people…” He looks up at you. “As bad as it is, I have a bit of an ego problem, something I’m grateful my son and Jimin haven’t learnt from me. They could probably easily do what I have to do, but I seem to struggle with this stuff…” he pauses, taking a small breath… “I’m an old man, Y/N. A stubborn one. I’m stuck in my ways but it’s only proven detrimental to me, and these past few weeks have shown me that… you’ve shown me that.”

You acknowledge his sentence with a subtle change in your expression, but you don’t smile. 

“I’ll admit,” Deok-su continues, “In doing all I could to give Jimin and the rest of my family the best upbringings, I often overlooked their own wants and needs.” He looks at you, brows furrowed in slight apprehension. “But as a grandfather, I’ve tried to ensure they grow up to be successful, independent people who are proud of themselves.”

“They can’t be proud of themselves when you’re trying to raise them to be who you want them to be,” you respond bluntly.

Deok-su pauses, going silent for a moment. He looks somewhat insulted, but you know that only because he recognises the truth to your statement. 

After a moment, he nods slowly. “You’re right.”

“Mr Park,” you say, waiting until he looks at you before continuing. “I never got to say this before, when I visited you in the hospital because I was more occupied with, well, other things.” Deok-su makes an apologetic face which you ignore and continue. “But besides my family not being rich enough for you, I want you to know that I understand you. I understand that you love your family and you want what’s best for them, but that’s not always going to be what you want.”

Deok-su purses his lips and you can tell that this conversation really is difficult for him to have. 

“I am learning that now,” he says after a moment. “I can see that with you… I see how much Jimin loves you, and for him you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and I can see just why...” There’s a small smile on Deok-su’s lips when he says it which slowly fades. “I owe you an apology, Y/N. I’ve wronged you in ways I realise I can’t make up for, at least not with the time I have left.” You lower your head when hearing those last words. “And I don’t say that to make you pity me,” Deok-su continues, “but I do have a request from you…” 

“A request?”

Deok-su nods. “Would you give me a chance?” 

For a moment, you’re confused. Especially when you see the sudden difference in Deok-su’s appearance — he no longer has those hard lines in his skin (which you realise contributed to his arrogant, stubborn persona to you), but appears softer. He just looks like a grandfather who loves his family.

“I know I don’t deserve your time after the way I behaved and belittled you, when really you should be put on a pedestal, but you mean the world to Jimin, and he means the world to me, so would you please give me a chance to at least earn your respect?”

You don’t have to think about the answer. It’s the thought of Jimin that makes you answer right away.

“Yes.”

Deok-su looks at you in slight surprise at your fast response.

“Jimin means the world to me too,” you tell him. “And he loves you, so I’m saying yes for him.”

A small smile appears on his lips and he nods. “Thank you, Y/N, and I’m truly sorry…”

You’re taken aback when Deok-su moves his hands to his sides and in apology, he bows. 

Any unsureness you felt about Deok-su not being sincere in his accepting you is completely diminished when he does so, and you find yourself already having some respect for him — he is a stubborn man as he said so himself, yet he’s still bowing to you, something you wouldn’t ever expect from someone of his age. 

So you bow back, and as you both rise, you smile. 

You can’t quite say you forgive him just yet, but one day you hope you will. 

“And for dessert, I made your favourite, Y/N…” Mi-jeong grins as she helps the housemaids put the fancy little plates on the table. “Tiramisu.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smile, eyeing up the boozy dessert as she puts the plate down in front of you. It does look divine, but…

Jimin and you exchange glances, and he waits for your small nod of approval before he beams, turning towards his family as Mi-jeong takes her seat again. 

“Thank you for dessert, mom, but um, Y/N can’t eat it.” He looks around at them and their confused expressions before chuckling. “I wish I’d come up with a better way to announce this, see, we have something to tell you all.” He reaches for your hand, squeezing gently as he tells them… “Y/N is pregnant, we’re having a baby…”

You expected at least a few seconds of silence, confusion, as Jimin’s family would process the news, but what you didn’t expect is for all of them to react so excitedly right away, with Eun-ae and Mi-jeong already tearing up the second they hear it. 

Geun-woo is the first to approach you, grinning wildly as he pulls you into a hug. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re going to make the most amazing mother.” 

“Thank you,” you murmur, holding him a little tighter before pulling away and immediately being embraced by Eun-ae who says the same as Geun-woo. Except she plants a motherly kiss on your cheek as she steps back, eyes glistening with tears, and Mi-jeong is the same, bringing you into a warm hug as she congratulates you. 

By now, everyone is surrounding Jimin and you, having gotten up to share in the joy of the moment, and as you’re hugging Pil-woo, your eyes land on Deok-su.

For a split second, you’re apprehensive of his reaction, but then you see the small smile on his lips as he stands behind Eun-ae, watching you all. Then, he meets your gaze, and he nods.

It’s a small gesture, but to you, it means a lot.

As Pil-woo moves away from you to hug Jimin, Deok-su approaches. 

“I am truly delighted for you both, Y/N,” he smiles. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smile back with a nod.

Deok-su hesitates, glancing at Jimin before looking back to you, so you step forward — it’s a decision you make in a split second, but you do it anyway, meeting him in a hug.

Jimin is still beside you, and seeing that, his heart immediately grows warm. 

It’s a short hug, but it means something to you all, and when Deok-su steps back and moves to bring Jimin into his embrace, seeing the tears glistening in Jimin’s eyes make you feel emotional. 

“It may be too hopeful of me,” Deok-su speaks quietly to you both as the others chatter excitedly around you, “but I would love to still be here to meet the little one.”

Taking Jimin’s hand, you smile. “I hope so too.”

You feel Jimin’s hand tighten around yours. “Six months, hal-abeoji,” he smiles teary-eyed. “We can do that.” 

“For your child, I’ll fight for as long as I can,” Deok-su smiles, and you find yourself moved by the sentiment of his words. 

This is the first time you feel something close to love for Deok-su. Maybe you will forgive him one day, maybe soon, and not just for Jimin, but for yourself. 

seven months later

In truth, you always thought it was a bit cliche when people would talk about childbirth — the same saying about forgetting all the pain the moment you get to hold your baby in your arms just seemed very repetitive, and you weren’t sure how someone could instantly forget about that much pain (you’d seen Gi in labour and that alone was horrific)… 

But it’s true. 

The moment you stop pushing and feel your baby in your arms, is the moment your life changes.

Every drop of blood, sweat, and tears becomes so worth it, and you immediately forget about all the pain and suffering you just went through to hold the little one you’ve spent nine months growing and nurturing inside of you. 

Nari is a quiet baby, a carbon copy of her father with his button nose and plump lips, and she seems to have his gentle nature too, having only cried once since coming into the world. 

Jimin’s already dubbed her as “daddy’s little princess” and he can’t take his eyes off of her. 

Even when the midwives whisk her away for a few minutes to perform a few mandatory health checks, he won’t stop staring at her, round eyes as he ensures his little princess is okay. 

“All good,” the doctor smiles, handing your precious little bundle to Jimin. 

He’s a natural, taking your daughter in his arms and cooing her softly as he walks over to you. You’d seen him with Ji-seok before, so it’s not a surprise to you, but seeing him with your baby in his arms, has your heart swelling with pride and tears brimming in your eyes again. 

“I need to give you to mama now, little Nari,” he whispers softly, lowering his head to place the gentlest of kisses on her forehead. 

As he hands her to you, he catches your gaze and you see his eyes are also glistening with tears. But now he just smiles, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead. 

Your eyes close when he does so, and you feel so grateful for having him. 

You truly don’t know how you could’ve done this without him — throughout pregnancy to now. He’s been on top of everything, from making sure you have everything for the baby, to looking after you in every way possible. 

And when your water broke eighteen hours ago, he’s the one who stayed calm and reassured you (despite being nervous and excited himself) as he got you to the hospital, and helped you through every contraction, remaining patient and kind (even when you were snappy because of the pain). 

Then when the time came to push, it’s his hand you held onto brutally tightly as he gently rubbed your thighs. 

He didn’t care about his own pain, knowing it was minuscule compared to what you were going through, and Jimin even had to hold back his tears the whole time, even during the later hours of labour, because he couldn’t stand to see you in so much pain. 

But when Nari came into the world, you both did cry, albeit you more than him. It was a beautiful moment. The most beautiful moment of your life. 

“I love you so much,” Jimin whispers, the words conveying a deeper meaning of love and appreciation than ever before. 

“I love you too, Jimin.” You raise your chin and he meets your lips in a soft kiss. “You sure you don’t want to hold her for longer?” you ask as Nari settles on your chest. 

Jimin nods, smiling as he ever so gently caresses his daughter’s head. “She needs her mommy first.”

He helps you pull your hospital gown down so you and Nari can get some important skin-to-skin time, and then he sits beside you as Nari fusses quietly in your arms. 

Five minutes later, the midwife comes and assists you in starting your first feed.

Jimin watches concernedly at first because Nari won’t latch, but as soon as she’s on you properly, he watches mesmerised. 

You also can’t take your eyes off of your little baby girl. It’s only been twenty minutes since she’s come into this world and to say you’re in love would be an understatement. 

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asks you, taking Nari’s hand. Her tiny fingers seem to instinctively curl around his pinkie and Jimin beams. 

It makes you giggle. “No,” you answer, looking back down at Nari. “Just feels a bit weird.”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt,” Jimin says, briefly taking his eyes off of his baby to look at you. “I can’t stand to see you in pain, baby.”

You smile softly. “I’m all good now,” you reassure him.

Jimin takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “Mhm, still tell me if you need anything.”

You hum quietly, looking back at your daughter, and it crosses your mind that with Jimin beside you and Nari in your arms, you really have everything you ever could have wished for. 

an hour later

“Oh, she’s so precious,” Gi whispers, barely holding back her tears as she looks down at her niece in your mom’s arms. “My beautiful niece.”

“I remember when you were this little, Y/N,” your dad beams, enamored by your daughter. “She looks a lot like you.”

You shake your head, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “No, I think she looks like her dad.”

“I agree,” Mi-jeong says quietly. She’s smiling, also unable to take her eyes off of Nari, and you can see there’s tears in both hers and Pil-woo’s eyes. 

“She’s so beautiful,” your mom whispers. 

“Just like her mom,” your brother grins, throwing a wink your way. 

“I was gonna say that!” Geun-woo almost sulks.

Your brother throws a smug smile Geun-woo’s way. “Beat you to it.” 

Geun-woo narrows his eyes at him playfully but when his eyes fall on his niece, he smiles again. 

“A beautiful lily,” Pil-woo beams.

Jimin smiles proudly. “Nari.”

“She’ll grow up to be spectacular, just like her mother.”

Your head turns towards his voice, and when you meet his gaze, you smile… 

Deok-su and Eun-ae were the first to arrive at the hospital when Jimin called everyone to tell them, and Deok-su has yet to hold your daughter, but you’ve seen the way he’s looking at her — it brings a light to his eyes which have been seeming far too dim these last few months. 

If these months have taught you anything, it’s that Deok-su really is stubborn. He beat the doctors predictions of six months, and so far has outlasted their expectations by three months, keeping true to his promise of fighting as long as he could to meet her, but you know that it’s been difficult for him. Far too difficult. 

“That she will,” Eun-ae agrees, wiping her tears away. 

Deok-su takes her hand, and she turns to look at him. Neither of them say anything, simply appreciating the moment with one another, and then Eun-ae lowers her head to rest on his shoulder. 

It makes you smile, seeing them together, although it saddens you to know that Deok-su is living on borrowed time.

He tires easily these days, and spends most of his time resting at home. You didn’t expect him to turn up at the hospital either but he was adamant on coming, wanting to see his great granddaughter as soon as possible since she’s the first girl of her generation in the Park family (Jimin’s older cousin only has two boys). 

You’re thankful he’s here to see Nari, especially when you know how happy it makes Jimin. 

He’s beaming at the sight of your families together with Nari in the middle. It’s something you never would’ve expected to see a few months ago, but it’s real. All of those you love and care about, surrounding the little light of your life now.

“We got real lucky, didn’t we?” you murmur to Jimin. 

Jimin smiles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “We sure did, and I thank you, my lucky star for that.” 

You roll your eyes at the nickname, but it warms your heart really, and with a soft kiss on his lips, you rest your head on his chest while your family fawn over Nari. 

five months later

There’s a gentle breeze this Sunday afternoon, a perfect companion to the warm sunshine of July. 

All around you there’s beautiful arrangements of flowers decorating the stone that appear row after row. It doesn’t exactly take away from the melancholic atmosphere that resides here, but it’s something. 

Jimin has brought some with him today, a variety of his granddad’s favourites — pansies, sweet peas, marigolds, and petunias. 

As he finishes planting them in the soil around the headstone, Nari, who is sitting in between your legs, squeals excitedly, flapping her arms to get her dad’s attention for what feels like the hundredth time in the last half hour. 

“Does my little princess like these flowers?” Jimin smiles, pausing what he’s doing to give Nari the attention she’s demanding. “You’re a beautiful lily too, aren’t you?” 

Nari laughs in excitement, as she always does when Jimin talks to her, and his smile grows wider. He leans down to kiss her head, careful not to get any soil on her. 

After a few moments, he’s done planting the flowers, and pulls the gloves off before shifting backwards to sit beside you. You’re quiet as he observes his work, and then you feel his arm close around your waist as he pulls you and Nari closer. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” he says quietly, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Of course,” you smile, rubbing his leg comfortingly.

There’s not many words you can think of saying to comfort him further, but you know you don’t need to. Although Jimin misses Deok-su, he’s grateful that Deok-su was able to meet Nari at least, and he’s grateful that he was able to make amends between you. 

Having been here for a while, Nari grows impatient and starts whining, showing signs of tears coming. Glancing at Jimin, you decide to give him a moment alone and you take Nari just a few feet away where you distract her with a slow walk. 

Jimin watches you for a moment as you point at all the flowers for Nari to see, smiling fondly at the sight. 

Then he turns back towards the headstone in front of him. “I can feel it, hal-abeoji,” he says quietly, a small happy smile on his lips. “You told me I’d know when the time is right, and I do. I’m going to ask her today. Wish me luck.” 

With one final moment beside his granddad’s grave, Jimin gets up, wiping his tears away before approaching you and Nari. 

“Hey,” you smile. “You okay?”

Jimin nods, bringing you into his arms with Nari between you, and kisses your forehead. “Mhm, let’s go home, baby.”

a few hours later 

“Nari, you can’t keep doing this!” Jimin groans, putting down the pot of baby food defeatedly. 

Nari pouts, noises coming out of her mouth that tell Jimin she’s about to start crying, but he hasn’t got what she wants. 

“Princess,” he pouts back, (purposely mimicking his daughter in an attempt to keep her from bursting into tears), “If you don’t want to eat this, then you’re gonna have to wait because mama’s in the shower and daddy doesn’t have your milk, okay?”

Nari speaks back to her dad in whiny gargles, none of it making any sense to Jimin but he nods and responds with facial expressions as though he understands, keeping up the conversation of gibberish until you come out of the shower. 

You can hear their baby talk as you walk into your bedroom, and you decide to take a peek at what they’re doing, surprised to see Jimin fully invested in whatever it is your daughter is babbling to him. 

Sometimes it still feels new when you see them both here, in your apartment which feels so much more like a home now. Jimin had insisted on moving into your place instead of you moving to his, wanting you to be comfortable, and before you were even five months pregnant, he moved in permanently. 

It just felt like the perfect thing to do — since the day he returned to you, you’ve spent every night together, so neither of you had any worries about taking the next step.

Giggling, you approach Jimin and Nari. “What are you two talking about so seriously?”

“Oh, baby,” Jimin sighs, visibly relaxing when he sees you. He pulls your waist closer, still sitting as you stand next to him and he rests his head on you, looking up. “She’s having a real hard time today… the formula just isn’t cutting it for her, neither is mashed peas…” Jimin pouts, “she wants you.”

“Hm…” you look down at him as your fingers naturally work their way through his soft locks. “That’s okay, I haven’t fed her any milk today.”

Smiling, Jimin gets up to take Nari out of her seat as you sit on the couch. He sits beside you, handing you Nari who immediately settles the second she’s latched onto you. 

Putting his arm around you, Jimin leans closer to talk to Nari. “This is what you wanted, hm?” He smiles softly. “You just wanted mama’s milk instead of the bottle. You cheeky girl, always being so difficult for daddy, aren’t you?  Don’t worry, I get it, I like mama’s boobs too.”

You tut playfully, giving him a look. 

“Oh sorry,” he smirks, “I love mama’s boobs.” 

As you roll your eyes, unable to hold back your smile, Jimin kisses your cheek softly, and he stays by your side as you feed Nari. After a few moments, she slows down and her focus slowly drifts from your boob, to you. 

She stares up at you with her big brown eyes as though she’s dazed, and when you start talking to her, her face slowly breaks into a smile. She does this often with both Jimin and you, and you’ve come to learn that at her age, these moments are her memorising the details of your face as she comes to recognise you and Jimin as her parents. 

With a few soft spoken words, her keen attention fades and she becomes restless, kicking her legs and arms around. 

“Does our little princess want to play now?” Jimin coos, and you hand her over to him. 

She squeals excitedly, making you and Jimin laugh. 

“I’ll go put her down,” Jimin says, putting her on his shoulder. “Also, you still need to call Gi.”

“Oh, yes, I do.” You get up to get your phone from the coffee table. “Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jimin smiles, walking with Nari to the bedroom, and you pick up your phone to call Gi. 

Nothing’s happened, but it’s been a while since you last spoke to her and you had been meaning to call for a while. It’s been a bit more difficult with how busy she’s been with her boys and she’s still working, and now you as a new mother too. Although you’re lucky enough to not be working right now, and the perks of Jimin being a CEO means he can take extended paternity leave to spend as much time with you and Nari. 

“Y/N!” Your sister picks up after a few rings. “You can already hear Ji-seok crying in the back.

“Hey, Gi. Bad time?”

“No, it’s perfect,” she says relieved. “Hyun, he’s all yours,” she says, and you can just picture your brother-in-law’s face as he acquiesces to his wife’s request. 

“What’s wrong with Ji-seok?” you ask. 

Gi snorts. “Nothing. He’s just got a flair for dramatics.”

“Much like you,” you joke. 

“Please,” Gi scoffs, the sounds of crying fading behind her. “If I’m gonna cry, I at least make myself look cute. Boogers are not cute.”

“Gross,” you laugh.

“Hm, get used to it. Nari’s gonna grow up real fast and before you know it you’ll be knocked up again.”

“I know,” you sigh. “These five months have already gone so fast.”

“Just treasure every moment,” your older sister tells you. 

“I will.” 

“Good. Where’s Jimin?” Gi asks. 

“He’s putting Nari down, I just fed her.”

“Ah… how is he?”

You look towards the bedroom. You can’t see him but you can hear him talking quietly to Nari. “He’s good. We went to visit the grave today, he wanted to plant some flowers for Deok-su,” you tell her. “I can tell he’s still upset but besides that, he’s perfect. I know he’s just grateful for everything he has, he always is.”

“That’s good,” Gi sighs. “I’m glad he’s not as upset as he was the last time I saw him. I suppose Nari is helping too.”

“Yeah, definitely. He’s always happy every time he’s around her.”

“And you too,” Gi adds. “The man still can’t keep his eyes off of you, you know?”

You smile. “I can’t keep my eyes off of him either.” 

“Okay, Nari, this is it,” Jimin says quietly, putting Nari down on the king size bed before carefully lying down beside her. “We’re Actually doing this,” he says, staring up at the ceiling before turning to Nari. 

She seems to be in her own world, gargling quietly in her own speech, making Jimin smile. 

He sits up and puts his hand on her tummy, rocking her gently. “Well, I am, but you have to help me, okay?”

Nari doesn’t say anything and simply stares back at her father. 

“Okay, good,” Jimin nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead before getting up. “First, candles.” He locates the small heart shaped candles he’d ordered secretly and lights them as fast and safely as he can on the clear side of the room, before scattering a few rose petals he’d also ordered across the rug. 

“Sweet and simple,” he sighs, looking around at it. “Just how my girl likes it… it’s not too corny is it?” He looks at Nari, awaiting a response, and when she babbles something, Jimin shrugs. “Yeah, I guess most romantic things are corny. Now, the ring.”

He walks across the room, and from his hiding space (being the back of his underwear drawer) he pulls out the small black box. 

He quickly glances out of the room and he can still hear you talking to Gi. 

“Okay,” he exhales, opening the box and staring at the ring. “Nari,” he walks over to his daughter. “What do we think?” He shows her the ring, admiring it himself. “D’you think mama will like it?” 

Nari seems to be intrigued by the ring as it shimmers above her, reflecting the warm lamp light in the room. Then as though she understands what her dad plans to do, she squeals excitedly, arms flapping and legs kicking. 

Jimin grins. “I think so too.”

He looks back at the ring, and slowly, he nods. “Here goes…”

“You wanna go to him now, don’t you?” Gi asks, laughing. 

You wince even though she can’t see you. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Sure, but how about you come over tomorrow instead? All three of you. Me and Hyun will cook dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” you smile. “Thanks Gi, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Bye, babe.”

As you cut the phone down, you’re already walking towards your bedroom. You feel slightly bad that you got distracted from your conversation with Gi so easily, but you know she understands. 

Approaching the bedroom, the door has been left open only slightly ajar and the light is far more dim than usual. 

“Jimin?” You walk towards the door, pushing it open slowly. 

First, you’re confused, looking around at the candle lit room while Jimin stands across from you in the centre. Around him in the rug are rose petals, scattered all over, and when you cock your head in confusion, he grins. 

Then he gets down on one knee. 

He meets your gaze with tears glistening in his eyes, and a crooked smile which melts your heart.

Your hand claps over your mouth and tears blur your vision already. 

“Y/N, baby, you can’t cry yet, I haven’t even asked you,” he chuckles, holding out his hand for you as you approach him. 

“Jimin,” you whisper, unable to think further than the one word that’s on your mind — yes. But you don’t say it, not yet. Wiping your tears away, you nod. “Okay, go on, I won’t cry.”

Jimin smiles, pulling you closer to him as he looks up at you. “You’re already crying,” he laughs softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand soothingly before he places a kiss on it. He reaches his hand up to wipe your tears away, before taking your left hand again. 

“I know all of this is pretty simple,” he looks around at the candles, smiling sheepishly, “and I was thinking hard about what to do, how to show you how much I love you, but I realised that one moment could never be enough to give you everything you deserve… I need a lifetime to do that.” His eyes glisten with tears and affection as he beams at you.

“Y/N, my life hasn’t been the same since I met you, you’re everything to me…” he pauses to pull out the small black box before looking up at you with round eyes. “I love you, Y/N. Will you let me love you for the rest of my life?” He opens the box. “Will you marry me?” 

The word comes out of your mouth without any thinking — “yes” — and the next moments are a blur, with you dropping to your knees and crashing into Jimin’s arms as he laughs, holding you close. 

“Baby, can I put the ring on you?” he asks, stroking your hair. 

You’re still crying, but you let out a muffled yes, your head buried in his neck. 

He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “I’ll need you to let go for me then.”

“Mm’kay,” you nod, slowly moving back. 

You have no doubt you’re a mess now, puffy cheeks and red eyes, but Jimin doesn’t care. He loves you at your worst and your best, and everything in between. 

Taking your hand, he slides the ring on your finger. 

“It’s perfect,” you murmur, dazed by its beauty. Looking up, you cup his face in both hands, taking a moment to admire him right now.

His cheeks are damp with a few stray tears, and his brown eyes are disappearing into beautiful crescents as he smiles at you. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jimin pulls you in by the waist. “I love you too.”

As you meet his lips, the rest of the world fades away and you feel him pouring every ounce of his love into the kiss, already keeping true to his word of showing you just how much he loves you. Not that he needs to though, his words and actions every day for the last two years have proved just that. 

A demanding babble of speech comes from the left of you both, and giggling, Jimin and you break apart. 

“We love you too, Nari,” Jimin chuckles as both of you get up and go over to her. 

She smiles when she sees you both, flapping her arms in a show of excitement. 

“Daddy did it, Nari,” Jimin grins. “Mama’s gonna be my wife.”

Another squeal escapes her, but you’re sure that’s only because of the attention she’s receiving. Still, Jimin squeals back excitedly, leaning in to give her kisses. “Now it’s mama’s turn,” he says when he’s done, booping her nose before turning to you. 

As he pulls you into his arms and presses his chest flush against yours, a serene feeling fills you, knowing that this is the promise of your future — tender moments like this, and Jimin’s love and attention for the rest of your life. 

You have all of him, and he’ll always have all of you. 

A/N: thank you all so much for reading and following this story along with me, it means so much!!! i hope you all enjoyed the ending, and if you have any questions for me or the characters, you can always ask! :) 

have a wonderful week my loves! <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog / leave a comment / send an ask!

[ecliptsukki]

his delinquent phase ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki // cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff

➣ warnings: adam’s existence 

➣ request: can i request a one shot where you’re cherrys s/o and like childhood best friends with joe and cherry and adam and you’re gushing over cherrys old bad boy look with piercings and everuthing and cherry one day goes to S with his piercings and hair the same way as before just to see you fawn over him skjfks

➣ a/n: this took me three times to type up because the first two times i did it, tumblr thought it would be funny to delete it. i’m not sure if i love how this came out, but it’s still better than my original plan. hopefully this was correct to what the anon requested. enjoy!

ps: i’m also going to be going on a trip for four days tomorrow, so i’m not sure if i’ll be able to post. i’ll definitely try to start working on my other requests!

You had known Joe, Cherry, and Adam ever since the four of you were in high school. Out of the three, you had met Joe, first, not soon before you met Cherry.

You were walking down the eventful streets of Okinawa, admiring the sights and getting accustomed with the area. You had moved to the city not too long ago and already were growing attached to the place. In your defense, the city was your perfect and desired location to live in. 

A gentle breeze blew through your hair, rustling the leaves of the green trees. You sighed at the feeling of the cool breeze tickling your warm skin. Not long after that breeze had gone, another, harsher breeze blew past you. You flinched at the abnormally sharp wind, snapping your head to the side, in its direction. You were met with honey red eyes and short, green locks, swaying. 

The male slips past you, stopping abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, embarrassed, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You were in awe, seeing what the boy was standing on, and on alert because you had always been taught to be cautious around strangers, especially when you were walking alone. 

“Um, no. I’m alright, just shocked,” you shrugged, replying quietly.

Another harsh, but gentler than before, wind blows past you, revealing a pink-haired male. He had three piercings on his ear and one on his lip. Half of the boy’s face was hidden by his long bangs, allowing your focus to lock on his golden eye.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps at his green-haired friend. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes, giving you a polite smile.

All the sirens were going off in your head.

He has so many piercings! Is he a delinquent? Are both of them delinquents? If they are, I can’t fight them off on my own. What do I do?

“I’m Kaoru,” the bubblegum-haired male suddenly said, “This is Kojiro.”

Kojiro nodded at you, an embarrassed blush still grazing his cheeks. 

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid?” Kaoru asked, finding your puzzlingly familiar.

“Oh, that’s why I felt like I’ve met you before,” Kojiro spoke up, nodding his head when he realized who you were.

Awkwardly, you shyly respond, “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember seeing you guys at school. Are you in my class?”

Until dusk, the three of you talked, getting to know the each of you better. You were also able to befriend the boys you were so afraid of, becoming your first two friends in the city.

You met Adam in the dark of night, beside Cherry and Joe.

They had brought you along, one night, wanting to skate with you. You already knew the basics of skating, nothing more, nothing less. Therefore, as your closest, and only, friends, they wanted to get further acquainted with you in something they loved. 

“Who’s the sweet cheeks?” His hoodie-covered eyes left an eerie pressure on you, causing goosebumps to emerge from your skin.

“This is our close friend, Y/N L/N,” Cherry spoke up.

“She goes to school with us, and we wanted to bring her skating. Mind her tagging along?” Joe asks his hooded friend.

“Not at all, just as long as she can keep up,” he spoke in a cocky tone.

The pretentious attitude the unnamed face had was irking you in the wrong way. He seemed too mysterious for your liking. A third of the boy’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, leaving you only able to see the blue tips of his hair and his structured nose. 

He must’ve noticed your timid stare because he looks at you, under his hood, “Call me Adam.”

 Cherry and Joe look at you expectingly.

“Just call me sweet cheeks, for now,” you reply, distantly, not ready to let your guard down just yet.

You hear your two friends sigh, chuckling to each other.

“Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you, soon,” Cherry told Adam, “We know firsthand how she is with meeting new people.”

You blush, remembering your first encounter with the pair.

Thinking back, you still regret letting your walls down and accepting Adam as a friend. Not a day goes by that Adam doesn’t linger in your mind, as much as you’d hate to admit. 

You despise that man with a passion. From your first interaction, you should’ve known that there was something off about the blue-haired male, but pondering on these frustrations now wouldn’t change anything. As much as you’d like to curse the man for hurting your friends’ and your feelings, you knew you had to move on.

You sat on the soft mattress of your shared bed, scrolling through old pictures stored on your phone. You saw pictures taken by Kaoru when you guys went on dates. Majority of the photos were candid, seeing as he always had told you that you were the “most photogenic woman” he had ever met.

You remember the day he had told you that. You also remember your laughed reply.

“Then you’ve got the whole world to explore, my love.”

Although, honestly, you thought Kaoru was quite the photogenic one himself. His gorgeous, sorted, pink hair matched with his golden eyes and perfect face never looked bad, not even at the crack of dawn or in the late of night. 

Speaking of which, you scrolled upon a photograph of Kaoru sitting all pretty with his piercings on display. Those piercings brought back many memories, humorous and lustful.

Ironically, the thing that brought you fear before now brings you yearning.

Honestly, once you had befriended Kaoru and came to trust him, the piercings no longer frightened you but instead, fascinated you. Those metal hoops further increased your attraction to the ponytailed man, leading you to the relationship you were in now.

Obviously, Kojiro played a big role in setting the two of you up together because both of you were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings. It got to the point that Adam almost had to step in and wack some sense into the both of you.

Anyways, ever since Kaoru had started working in the calligraphy business, he removed his piercings to maintain a professional image. You detested the idea, but you also knew that it was the best for his business. 

Now that you were looking back at photos of Kaoru as a teenager, you began to crave seeing him in those metal rings once more. You missed the “bad boy” look your boyfriend used to have, not that you didn’t appreciate how he looked now. It’s just that there’s a different vibe to his current and past aesthetics.

As you stalked through more pictures of teenage Kaoru, you were unaware of the very man you were thinking about watching you. He noticed the longing and craving in your gaze. Then, he caught a glimpse of what was being projected on your screen: it was him but in his teenage years. 

Suddenly, everything clicked for Kaoru, and he had the perfect plan in mind.

Something was off. Usually your boyfriend would insist on bringing you to “S” himself but not today. If anything, he was urging you to go with Kojiro.

“He’s been your friend for the same amount of time as I. You should take this time to your advantage and catch up,” was Kaoru’s excuse.

First of all, catch up on what? It’s not like you haven’t talked to Kojiro in months. Actually, you talked to him a day ago, at “S.” Secondly, what’s up with the sudden lenience and weak excuses?

Joe, who was also in on the plan, tried to help his friend out, making a feeble attempt to lure you with free food.

“I can get free food from you whenever I want,” you replied, squinting suspiciously at your friend.

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” That pulled a raised brow from you and a regret-filled face from the muscular man.

Though you weren’t fully convinced that nothing was off, you still left with Joe, caving into their terrible attempts of covering up whatever they were hiding from you.

You had arrived at “S” with Joe for about ten minutes now, but there was still no sightings of your beloved, Cherry. Joe caught glimpse of your searching eyes and reassured you that he would be coming, be it later than usual.

Reki, Langa, and Miya had made their way over to you, sparking up a conversation with you, making you forget about the missing presence of a specific male. 

Miya was explaining the new training regiment and diet he was to use in order to advance his strength, leading you to worry for the small teenager. If he didn’t eat enough, it could become fatal to him. You didn’t understand why a child was being treated so harshly by his managers, forcing him to eat barely anything and train long hours of the day. 

You were concernedly asking Miya if he was feeling alright and offered him an energy bar you carried around in case of emergencies, which he gratefully accepted, when you heard the cheers of fangirls behind you. Knowing they weren’t meant for Joe, you turned around to meet the golden eyes you’d fallen in love with.

This time, there was something different. His face wasn’t hidden by his mask. You could see the pale skin of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. Besides the absence of the black cloth, you noticed metallic rings decorating your boyfriend’s lip and ears. Also, his hair wasn’t whipping behind him, as per usual, but laid low, drifting in the wind.

For a hot moment, you had thought you had finally lost it, but when you blinked your eyes, looking at Miya then back to Cherry, you realized you were still sane and your boyfriend still looked like he aged back into his high school days.

“Is that Cherry?” Miya asked from beside you.

You nodded, speechless.

You heard someone let out a loud laugh beside you, “Since when did he have piercings?”

Ignoring the redhead’s outburst, you were mesmerized by the Cherry you had been obsessing over a couple days ago. It felt like one extravagant dream that you didn’t want to wake up from. In your defense, as he stepped of his skateboard, coming to embrace you, he looked straight out of a fantasy. His skin was practically glowing, and his hair gently floated perfectly onto his shoulders.

“Hello, darling,” he spoke in a sultry voice, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you in his muscular arms.

“K-Kao—” you quickly realize your soon-to-be mistake and fix it, “Cherry.”

His eyes shrink as he laughs, endearingly, admiring the flustered and confused look you were portraying.

“Is this why you and Joe were being so weird earlier today?” You asked, cheek pressed against his slim, toned chest.

“Indeed, my love. What do you think? Definitely brings back some memories of the old days,” he lifts your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” you smile brightly, eyes lustrous. Pushing yourself up on your toes, you whisper into his ear, “You also look really hot.” You quickly pull away, turning a vibrant red.

“I think you broke her,” Joe told his friend, placing a heavy hand on the pink-nette’s shoulder.

After the supposed one occurrence surprise, you began to avidly ask him to wear his piercings, loving how attractive and domineering he looked in them. If he denied, you would ask him to, at least, tie his hair in the relaxed half up half down hairdo. He didn’t mind the different hairstyle as much as he did the piercings so it became a normal look for him. The only times he would willingly put on his piercings were when he was going to “S” or when the two of you were safe in the comfort of your own home, for research purposes.

[axwalker]

Jealousy--One Shot

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2. Engagement Tour. 

Pairing: Drake Walker x Alexis O’Brien (MC) 

WORDS: I’m using my WD golden ticket so 3,000 words. 

POV: Dual 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUT!! 🍋🍋🍋 A very frustrating Drake and Alexis.  

ALL MY FICS ARE +18 !!!! 

I’m participating in the  @wackydrabbles​   prompts. This week’s prompt is “I can’t do this anymore.” 

I apologize for any grammatical errors.   

Tags in the comments ;) 

DRAKE

Standing next to my window, I admire the Roman ruins of the Palatine hills as the royal train rolls into Rome. I’ve always loved Italy, but something about this trip is getting to me. It might be the woman occupying the cabin next to mine. It might be the fact that my best friend is almost as crazy about her as I am. Almost. He can’t possibly care for her the way I do. I down the rest of my glass and pick up a simple shirt and a pair of pants for tonight’s banquet. Fuck the black tie.

Since O’Brien came back to court, I tried to avoid her as much as I could. As a result, I’d cut off a leg tonight just to lay eyes on her again. I crave her like a drug. I spent the last few days debating with myself, and each day I grow a little more desperate, my arguments growing wilder and less probable by the minute. “Maybe” is how every single thought began, each one borne of desperation. Maybe I can make Liam understand that I’m crazy about the woman he loves. Maybe he’ll understand that I’ve been lying for months. Maybe Alexis will realize that she wants a quiet life with me. It’s a weakness on my part; I just need to get through this banquet without giving into it.

Thank God there’s a bar. I’m going to need something to make this experience tolerable. I grab a whiskey and drink half of it before I even head to my table. I’m halfway there when my eyes meet Kiara’s. She’s been leaving me flirty messages since we built the barn to celebrate Liam’s engagement. She’s a beautiful and smart woman but I couldn’t be less interested. 

“Come with me,” she says, pulling at my elbow. “I saved you a seat.” 

At that very moment, Lexie walks in. She’s wearing a red silk dress that matches her lips, pours over her curves, and reveals only a hint of cleavage while allowing you to imagine what you can’t see too fucking easily. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her back, highlighting her long neck and her gorgeous face. As always, I seem to settle on her mouth. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her wear red lipstick before, and, for some reason, this opens an entire box of fantasies. I want to see it soiled. To kiss her so hard that neither of us can breathe. To pull back and find that mouth ajar, panting, the lipstick a red blur around the edges., I want it so badly I’m not sure how I’ll get through the goddamn night without having it. My hands sliding that silk dress over her head, learning every inch of her the way I’ve dreamed about for months. Except right now, Lexie’s eyes are fixed on the point where Kiara’s arm is linked with mine, and her expression—sad and wounded—is like a knife to my chest. I step away from Kiara, grabbing my drink and draining it. “I’m sitting with Maxwell and Olivia,” I tell her firmly. 

 “Doesn’t Lexie look gorgeous?” Max asks. My eyes move across the room again. Her red dress shimmers, sticks on her curves. `

“She looks like she needs more clothes,” I complain. 

“Olivia helped her choose that dress,” Max says with a brow arched. “It fits her like a glove.” 

“Yeah,” I reply. “That’s sort of the problem.” 

My gaze is still on her, though. Moving up from her hips to her waist to her breasts, back up to that mouth of hers. I picture it again; the lipstick smeared, her breathless under me. And then a single hand cups her hip bone, visible through the thin silk, and I’m ejected from my fantasy at high speed. My lust transforms into rage in a single breath. Fucking Signore Francesco Lombardi. When everyone finally takes their seats, I discover that she and Francesco are at the table on the other side of mine, giving me a painfully direct view of the two of them. Whenever she stands, his eyes are on her, devouring her. He paws at her when she returns, jumping to pull out her chair but managing to get his fucking hands over approximately sixty percent of her body when he does it. And if he tries to look down her dress one more time, I’m definitely taking him out. I don’t give a fuck about our diplomatic relationships with Italy. I go to the bar again and ask for another glass of Macallan. Tonight it’s either get drunk or completely lose my shit in front of hundreds of witnesses. Pretentious food and great speeches are given out that I don’t notice. She is more real to me than anything in this room or out of it, the only thing I can see. No one knows her fears like I do. No one knows how fragile she really is, how deeply sweet. How funny and smart and kind. But I know. And for all the fighting we’ve done, there aren’t two people in this room as made for each other as the two of us. My world is constructed entirely of rules about what I owe Liam –my education, my career, and so many other things. But somehow, it excludes the only thing that matters to me. Her. If it weren’t for how Liam feels about her, she’d be here with me tonight. I watch her say something to Liam, and he nods, his eyes telling her how he feels. Jealousy runs through my veins. 

 “Enough,” I say quietly as I stand. I don’t know what possesses me to follow her. I know, with every bone in my body, that I have no claim on her. But I saw that look in Liam’s eyes, the one that says he’ll do anything for her, and I found myself on my feet. She’s halfway down the hall by the time I reach her. She looks over her shoulder warily when she hears me, but she is too late. I’m already there. I grab her elbow before she has time to react and pull her into an empty office. She stiffens and pulls back, ready as always to fight. Eyes flashing and hands on her hips. Seething before I’ve even said a word. “You have no right to—” That’s when I cup her jaw and capture that mouth I’ve longed for the whole goddamn night.

ALEXIS 

 His mouth comes down on mine, demolishing my pathetic attempt to object. He seizes it thoroughly, with such certainty, as if he’s spent his entire life practicing for this precise moment. His hands raking back through my hair, his tongue finding mine as he presses against me. His mouth moves over my neck, and he groans, a noise of both despair and satisfaction. 

“You didn’t want me a week ago, but now you do?” I start to push back, but he holds me tight against him. 

“I just don’t want you stuck in a shitty ranch with a poor veterinarian when it all ends. It was never about not wanting you.” I know there are other reasons why I’m supposed to object, but they escape me. I’ve wanted this too long, his hands on my body, my skin pressed against his, and his mouth creating a trail of kisses down my neck. It’s right. I’ve known nothing in my life with such certainty as the fact that nothing in the world matters more to me. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, and then he pulls one strap of my dress down, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses over my shoulder and collarbone, almost reverently. Nipping with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. He pulls the dress down to my waist, unclasps my bra with a single hand. He cups my breasts, bringing his mouth to them in the same way, sharp and sweet at once and creating a need in me so intense that it borders on pain. I gasp and arch toward him, submitting entirely as my head falls backward against the wall. He pulls back just enough to see my face. His chocolate eyes are dark now as he searches mine, looking there for something he desperately needs. Permission. He wants permission. As if I’d ever tell him no. 

“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.” 

“You’re sure?” His voice is gruff with desire. And when I nod, he pushes the dress over my hips and allows it to slide to the floor. His hands follow, skating over my hips, down my thighs, and I stand before him now in nothing but panties and heels. “That fucking dress nearly killed me,” he says, smoothing my skin as he kisses me again. He pushes against me, his shirt against my bare skin, his erection pressed hard to my stomach, a quick pulse there as if he is desperate for friction. He slides his index finger under the elastic of my panties. The moment he touches me, my whole body jolts. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “You’re already soaked.” His finger slips back and forth, lightly, in torturous circles before it pushes inside me. 

“Oh God,” I whisper, my body bowing toward him. He adds a second finger, and this time his groan is louder than mine. 

“Jesus, Lex,” he growls. “You’re going to be the end of me.” 

I unclasp his belt and unzip his pants reaching down to pull him from the confines of his boxers. He is thick and heavy in my hands, hissing as my fingers wrap around him, tugging gently. 

“Stop,” he exhales after a minute. “I’m not gonna last if you do that, and there are so many things I want to do to you first.” 

He pushes my panties down and lifts me up almost simultaneously, turning to deposit me on the table behind us. He kisses me once, hard. “Lie back,” he commands. He drops to his knees, spreading my legs so I’m displayed before him. Suddenly, his fingers are joined by quick swipes of his tongue. 

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Drake … just—”

 His mouth and tongue lick and brush and pull, creating flames that begin there and spread all the way to my toes. I try to move, but his free hand clamps down on my thigh, holding me in place. 

“I’ve dreamed about doing this every goddamn night for months, Alexis. So let me.” 

I can’t even nod in agreement because suddenly, everything inside me is building so quickly that I can’t tell where I am or where I’m going. 

“Oh,” I gasp. And then his fingers push inside me and I explode with a cry of ecstasy and surprise, arching against his mouth. He doesn’t pull back, but instead slides his hands beneath my legs and tugs me closer, buries his face to create wave after wave of something I never thought would happen in the first place. 

“Holy shit,” I breathe. He leans over to kiss me and when he does, I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing him against me so suddenly that he gasps in my mouth. 

“Lexie,” he groans. 

“Please,” I whisper. It seems impossible for anyone to be more satisfied than I am now, yet I still need the very thing Drake wants most, the thing he is so sure he shouldn’t give. He looks tortured and pulls back, but I tighten around him, pressing him against me. “Don’t even think about stopping right now.” He shifts his hips just enough that he is pressing right there, not inside me but mere seconds away from it. In a single pulse, he could be buried deep inside me. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice tight. “Do we need …” 

“No,” I beg. “Just do it. I’m on the pill.”

He pushes in, barely. He’s so thick that already I’m stretched to the point of pain. 

“Oh fuck, Lexie,” he whispers. “God, that’s so good. Just give me a minute, or this is going to be over before it starts.” 

Finally, he moves once more, going slowly, a low noise deep in his chest as he finally shoves all the way in. 

“Are you okay?” he asks between clenched teeth. I nod as I adjust to the size of him, pain still outweighing the pleasure. It’s when he starts to withdraw that the pain recedes as a burst of pleasure sucks the air from my lungs. It feels too good, something so vast and all-consuming it can’t possibly end well. I never finish this way but oh my God… If it were ever going to happen, it would be now. His next thrust is faster, more certain, but he stops entirely at my sharp inhale. “Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks. 

“No.” He didn’t hurt me. He stunned me. His strokes come slow and rhythmic then, as he leans over, finding my mouth with the table bracing his weight, his arms taut. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he says, holding still inside me. 

“Keep going,” I beg. “Don’t stop.” 

“Patience,” he grins. “You have no idea how hard it is not to come right now.” 

I grab his ass and push upward, ignoring his warning, thrilling at the low grunt he makes. “Alexis,” he growls, “goddammit.” 

His hips jerk back and then forward, almost involuntarily. It’s all I need. I cry out as it happens again, everything inside me bursting. He thrusts quick and hard, desperate now, and then stiffens with a single guttural noise as he pushes in one final time. He falls against me, his mouth against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. It’s closer than I’ve ever been to another person, and I would like to stay here, just like this, forever. But after a moment, I open my eyes when I realize what we’ve done. 

It’s a little like waking from a dream. What the fuck have I done? The best sex I’ve ever had and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made just occurred simultaneously. The guilt and astonishment collide with each other. It was wrong. No matter what other considerations there are, I just slept with Liam’s best friend.

I know I don’t owe Liam anything. I came to Cordonia to see if there was something between us beyond that kiss in New York, and there wasn’t. He’s engaged to Madeleine and I’m hopelessly in love with his best friend. Bu this isn’t about me. This is about Drake. 

I just became that woman. The kind of woman that would stand between two brothers. The type of woman capable of breaking a lifelong friendship in a moment of lust. 

I know that sooner or later, Drake will resent me, us, if he loses Liam. Somewhere inside, I knew that, but because I wanted him and was jealous of Kiara, I chose to ignore it. He looks up at me, and his smile fades. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. There’s dread in his voice. His jaw hardens. “You regret it.” 

“Drake,” I sigh, nestling in his chest. “It’s not that. It was…amazing. I just need to figure this out.” 

“Figure what out?” 

I bury my face in his neck. I don’t want to be having this conversation with him. I wish there was a way he could just hold me and take me to his cabin and work this all out on my own later. But there’s not. “What happens next. I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that. Liam… “

“No,” he snaps, pulling away. “Do not bring him up. Are you really going to let the way it might look to everyone outside this room dictate whether or not it’s okay? This is about us, Lexie. No one else.” 

Except it’s not everyone outside this room. It’s him. Until a week ago, Drake was determined to push me away. He didn’t want to betray his best friend. He told me over and over again that he wasn’t that kind of man. That he would never forgive himself. 

I let my need obliterate every reasonable thought, as usual. And in doing so, I’ve let myself down and—far worse—I may have put Drake’s friendship with Liam at risk. I pull away and grab my dress and bra off the floor. 

“We have to get back out there before someone notices we’re gone.” 

He buttons his shirt. “So you want to go back and continue flirting with Liam like this didn’t just happen?” he asks.

.

It’s right then, at that precise moment, that I realize that no matter what happens, Drake and I will never be together. Liam will always be there, between us. Right now, in our post-orgasmic bliss, Drake is not thinking straight, but I know what he will be telling me tomorrow morning. Or at least how he will be feeling. Guilty. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” I take a deep breath to calm myself. “So what matters most is that we both get through the banquet like nothing happened.” 

“And then what?” He growls.

His anger doesn’t scare me. “Can we please just get through the next hour?” I ask. “Liam is out there. Olivia, Max, Kiara are out there. The most important thing either of us can do right now is to act like nothing’s wrong.” 

He fastens his belt and moves to the door, his jaw rigid. He’s doing what I asked, but I hate that he’s leaving mad. I’m doing this for him. I don’t want him to lose the only relationship in his life that matters to him. “Drake, wait—” 

 “For what?” he demands. “I just fucked you on a table, and now you’re sending me on my way. What more could you possibly need to add to that?” With those parting words, he crosses the door and walks out, leaving me heartbroken. 

[literaila]

Epic III

spencer reid x reader 

summary: And I know how it was because. He was like me. A man in love with a woman

or 

Spencer tells Derek about Y/N for the first time 

warnings: mention of the FBI, confusion, fluff, Derek Morgan (just kidding), probably some typos, terrible conversation 

a/n: inspired by the song “Epic III” from hadestown. the words are there, but the idea is sort of flipped on its back. would strongly reccomend listening. 

*

“Hey, Kid!” 

Spencer would like to deny that he felt comforted by that voice, but he couldn't. 

Even the brief words put a smile on his face. 

A friendly feeling made its way to his chest, his nerves relaxed from the moment the receiver had clicked. 

“Hi Morgan,” he started. Spencer wasn't quite sure why he was calling in the first place, but he was glad he didn't seem to be interrupting anything. Glad that Derek had answered the phone. 

It had been a while since they’d talked. Spencer didn't like to pick up the phone, and he definitely didn't like the inquiring questions Derek always seemed to ask. But still, he always enjoyed phone calls with his old friend. And it really had been too long. As Derek reminded him. 

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ve been busy with some cases.” An excuse he might have used before, but it wasn't untrue. 

There was a moment's pause, and then, Spencer expected the next question. 

“Is that why you’re calling, Reid? Do you need to talk about something?” 

Derek had always been one to check up on Spencer, his paternal instincts clicking into place. Even years ago when they were both still new to the world of everything. And, calling about a case wasn't unusual. Sometimes Spencer called just to talk to someone about it. 

Spencer almost wanted to roll his eyes though. Almost. “No, I’m fine. The cases haven't been that bad.” 

Spencer could almost hear Derek nodding his head, and if they had been in the same room he could imagine Derek staring him down, just to check and see if he wasn't lying. 

“Okay,” Derek finally said, slightly suspicious, slightly joking. 

“Okay,” Spencer repeated, flicking through a book next to him without reading it. Just looking for something to mess with. Not quite sure where this phone call was going. 

“...So why did you call then kid? Not that I’m complaining, but usually you have something to bring up.” Derek said, and Spencer could hear something moving around in the background. 

He thought for a moment. Why had he called? Everything seemed to be fine. Work was as good as it could be, Spencer was the same as always. He didn't have anything significant to talk about, hadn't had many changes in the months they'd spent between phone calls. 

“I don't know,” Spencer answered, scratching the back of his neck. Sharing the same confusion as Derek. 

Derek started to say something when the door to Spencer's office opened. When his girlfriend came strolling in, holding some papers, a smile plastered on her face. 

She brought light with her, striding in the room completely unbothered, looking at Spencer without noticing everything else. The colors seemed to burst around her. 

Spencer's confusion almost completely evaporated. His smile was an uncertain reflex. 

She started to say something, her laugh infectious, before she really looked up at Spencer. Realization hit her face, and she stopped in her tracks. She smiled a sheepish smile at him, glad that he didn't look too upset that she had interrupted his conversation. 

She whispered a quiet “Sorry,” placing something on his desk, and walking around to kiss him on the cheek. After only a few seconds, she was gone. 

But the warmth in her smile managed to cling to the room, in the air. 

La la la la 

“Reid?” Derek repeated, snapping Spencer out of his stare on her. 

“What?” Spencer asked, shaking his head and focusing back on Derek. 

“Who was that?” Derek asked, a creeping smirk in his tone. Spencer could feel the heat making its way up his neck. 

He hadn't said anything about her yet. 

It wasn't that he was embarrassed, or worried, or even nervous about telling anyone. He didn't want to keep her a secret necessarily. 

But, he also knew that he loved the quiet moments with her, and he knew those moments would become shorter and shorter over time. 

He knew it was far too early to draw any actual conclusions. 

“Huh?” He said, trying to play it off as best as he could. This was definitely not something he wanted to talk about with Derek. Not now. Especially not after the years of badgering and ‘tips’. He really didn't need to hear about how to ‘keep a lady around’. 

“You almost completely zoned out for a minute. You’re trying to tell me you don't know what I”m talking about?” Derek said, his voice making Spencer feel even more flustered than before. It was teasing and sounded far too old for Derek. 

Like mentioned, it had been a while since the two of them had talked. 

And, of course, the last time… Well, Spencer hadn't had anything to talk about. Hadn't had anyone strolling into his office while he talked to Derek. 

When Spencer didn't answer, Derek asked again. “Who is she?” 

Spencer sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Y/N.” 

Where’d you get that melody? 

And almost as if Derek knew, he didn't press on the tone of Spencer's voice any further. He only made a sound of acknowledgment, very clearly smiling across the phone. 

"And?" he asked, inquiring on something Spencer didn't quite pick up on. 

"And... she apologizes for interrupting our conversation." 

Derek laughed, very clearly entertained by Spencer's annoyance. Very entertained with this moment that he had probably waited years for. 

"How long?" 

"What?" 

Derek laughed, sighing into the receiver. "How long since you met her?" 

"Um..." he took a minute to think even though he already had the number in his head. "Almost a year now." 

Spencer could almost feel Derek's wide eyes. 

"A year?! It hasn't been that long since we've talked." 

Spencer laughed nervously, fiddling with his hands. His heart almost started pounding at the questions he knew were to come, at the secrets that were to be unveiled. At the feelings, he knew he couldn't just hide anymore. 

He knew that she was probably just right outside the door. Probably watching TV on his couch, or reading a book. There were so many things he could say that might just carry on too far into his house. So many things he was keeping a secret from her. 

"We were just friends a couple of months ago," he whispered- just a brief little spurt of nerves making their way to his voice. The memories making him nervous still. Derek's acknowledgment only adding to that. 

Derek waited, giving Spencer a clear indication to continue, but when he didn't, Derek asked again. 

"Tell me about her." 

Spencer sighed. This speech was one he would tell again, and then again. He knew that this was going to have to become a familiar thing, that he was going to have to stop keeping so many secrets. But, it was still hard to speak when asked. 

"We met at the library," 

It was a good start, one that didn't dive too deep. One that would allow him to stop talking as soon as possible. 

La la la la la... 

"And?" 

Spencer sighed again, his mind on a repeating pattern, thinking about all the things he could reveal and all the things that he didn't need to talk about. 

"She, um, she criticized my book choices." He laughed an anxious laugh at the memory. "And then tried to help me come up with better books to read, but I had already read them."

She'd glared at him when he said that and told him to stop being so pretentious, that there was no possible way he had read all of the fifteen books she had recommended. But she'd smiled after, so Spencer knew that she wasn't actually mad. 

"I thought it was weird that a student was trying to persuade my reading choices, but she assured me it was completely normal." 

Derek laughed with Spencer, and the tension in the air was removed. Suddenly replaced by the warmth these stories always brought. Though it was different to say them out loud. Different to let them pause in the air as his friend listened. 

He didn't quite know if he liked it. 

"Sounds like she's a bold girl." 

Spencer nodded his head even though Derek couldn't see him. A smile managed to make its way to his face as he thought about her. "She is. She's one of the most outspoken people I've ever met. But, she was never mean about anything." 

No, not even when Spencer refused to read any fiction that she recommended. 

"And, um, a couple months after we met she started slipping notes into the books she would give me. That's, um, how I asked her out." 

"Taking all the big steps, huh?" Derek said, clearly smirking, clearly proud of Spencer for some unknown reason. 

"It took me months to come up with anything to say, and Y/N said she wasn't surprised." 

"You always have something to say," Derek reminded him, a quick thought right into the air. His voice sounded teasing, but Spencer knew that he was asking him yet another question. 

"Not with her, she... completely erases everything I know. And, I can never speak right around her." 

He didn't mention how Y/N found that endearing, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless. 

Derek didn't say anything for a second, and then he breathed out. A sound Spencer didn't recognize. 

"You're in love with her?" 

And Spencer, he was shocked. He froze as he thought over the words, ones he might have thought, but never dared to say. 

he fell in love with a beautiful lady

"I- um," Spencer breathed out, running a hand through his hair. "I think it's too soon to tell- and- it would depend on which type of love you're talking about in the first place" he stuttered out, nervously laughing. "Because there are seven different kinds according to- to-" 

"Spencer," Derek interrupted, giving Spencer some relief from the fast pace he was talking in. "It's just a question kid," he was laughing but Spencer just felt frustrated. 

He didn't want to classify this, didn't want to make the same mistake as he'd made before. 

But, 

you didn't know how

When he thought of her walking into his office, handing him things she already seemed to know he needed. 

When he thought of her in his kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of them and dancing to the music Spencer had protested against. 

When he thought of the two of them walking in the park, Y/N laughing into his neck, kissing him on the cheek when it was time to go. 

When he thought of laying with her in bed, messing with her hair as she told him secrets she didn't share with anyone else. 

When he thought of her, and her bold, and her bright. And the warmth that followed her. 

you didn't know why

When he thought about those things it was almost impossible, almost unfeasible to think about it as anything else. 

Love. 

Huh. 

"I don't- I don't know." He finally whispered, confused and realizing all at the same time. 

Derek just seemed to know. 

"You're talking about her like I talk about Savannah, that's the only reason I asked." 

Spencer thought about that for a moment, thinking about all the times he'd seen Derek glow with Savannah, and he'd seen Derek smile an unreasonable smile when she was around. 

"It's okay if you don't know kid," Derek continued, seeming to think that Spencer was going crazy at his question. "It takes time." 

Spencer laughed, thinking that his feelings for her hadn't changed since the first day he'd met her and she'd called him pretentious. 

"But," Derek teased again, his tone suddenly changing. "She seems great." 

And Spencer couldn't help but agree with that. Couldn't help but think there were so many greater words to describe her with. 

He fell in love with

"She is." Spencer reaffirmed, the smile back on his face, the warmth on his cheek from her kiss still prominent. 

"Just make sure to invite me to the wedding, alright?" 

Spencer caught the joke, hesitating to laugh. 

You saw her alone there, against the sky

His heart sped up at the prospect. At the idea of getting married to her. But, of course, he didn't let Derek know that. 

He only laughed. Trying to keep these ongoing feelings in his chest. 

It was like she was someone you'd always known

*

Later on, after the two of them had talked for an hour more. Derek telling Spencer about how he was still struggling with making sure everything was baby-proof, and Derek laughing along to stories Spencer told him about the team. 

It was a good opportunity. And Spencer couldn't deny that he had missed his friend. 

But, as soon as the phone call was over, he was ready to get out of his office. 

When he walked out, a girl was sitting on his couch, flipping through a book he knew she'd already read. 

He smiled at the sight, comforted by the fact that she was waiting for him, that she was there in the first place. 

He walked over to the couch, gently taking the book from her hands and sitting next to her so that he could lay his head on her shoulder, and wrap an arm around her. 

"Hi," she whispered, molding with him into their couch. She smiled at his clinginess, returning it with all the admiration she could muster. But, when Spencer looked up at her, she gave him a playful glare. 

"I was reading that," She scolded him, running her hands through his hair as he held her closer to him. 

"You've read that before. I didn't think I was interrupting," Spencer said, playing innocent but breaking his composure to laugh at her face. 

They both took deep breaths, relaxing into the moment, warmth surrounding them like a cocoon. 

She was silent for a minute, continuing to run her hands through his hair, a soft smile on her face as she looked at him. But, eventually, she spoke up. 

"Good call?" she asked him, a playful tone in her voice, a feeling they couldn't describe in the air. 

"Yeah," Spencer whispered back, moving away for a moment and laughing at her pout. He switched their positions, her head on his chest now, wrapping his arms around her. 

She wasn't pouting anymore. 

Instead, she held him back, unspoken words living between the two of them. 

"Sorry I interrupted," she muttered, her breath soft against his skin. 

"It's okay, Derek didn't mind." 

She nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around him, enjoying the way he was smiling at her. She strained to reach up and kiss his neck, satisfied when she finally did. 

And Spencer felt enchanted by her. 

He felt like he was holding the world in his arms when he held her. He felt like he might burst into flames because of her warmth, because of those feelings he couldn't tuck under his chest. 

He was enchanted by the way that she smiled at him, by the kisses she traced over his skin, by the air she breathed out, by the arms that were holding him back. 

He couldn't think of anything else, not a single thing, that compared to this. 

To holding her. To being with her. 

He kissed the top of her head, letting her know his thoughts without actually having to say them. 

He kissed the words across her forehead, down to her cheek. Told her things that he had never dared to say out loud. 

And she understood. 

How could she not? When he was smiling at her as he was, when he was holding her so close, when his eyes were a world of wonder she wanted to stare at. 

How could she not understand? 

The woman he loves

Spencer thought he might fall asleep sitting in this moment with her, he thought that it was too comforting, too warm, to keep his eyes open for too much longer. 

With nothing to lose

He thought about what he had told Derek, about how he didn't know. 

But he did, 

He could feel it in his chest, could feel it in the air, could tell when she smiled up at him, when he smiled down at her. He could feel it all around the two of them, bliss a word that didn't mean enough for the moment. Wonderful, was not a stronger enough word to describe her. He didn't think there were any. 

But he could feel this thing in his chest, invading his mind. 

He didn't know. 

But he did, 

Because when he looked at her, 

La la la la la la la...

And when she looked at him, she couldn't help but feel the same things, couldn't help the smile that made its way to her face. The song that played in her head. 

Lover, tell me when we...

*

my masterlist here. 

[volleychumps]

Hello!! Can I request for Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kuroo to you getting hit in the face by their spike or serve and like you pass out..? tysm I love your writing sm!!!! You’re my favorite writer on this app probably

:’)) These will be written before anything significantly romantic happens and they start dating, I hope you enjoy!!

Accidental Ambush w/ Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kuroo

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

Bokuto

“Bokuto-san, should you really be trying out a spike you’ve never tried before with full force?” 

Akaashi Keiji sighs, watching with a tired stare as the nationally-known spiker grins, gold-eyes gleaming with excitement as the owl-haired boy spins the ball in his hands for good measure. 

“Learn to live a little, Akaashi!! If I’m gonna be the bestest spiker in the world-” 

“Bestest isn’t-” 

“-then I’ve gotta have more tricks up my sleeve!” 

The banter between the two had kept both boys occupied as you entered the gym, planning to grab the sneakers you left behind from practice with the girl’s basketball team. In doing so, you eye the two as the darker haired one finally obliges to set for the over-hyped boy, causing you to pause. 

It wasn’t every day you got to see the skills of one of the top spikers in the nation up close. Realizing neither had noticed you, you hum, leaning against the wall as you think that it wouldn’t hurt to watch from a distance. 

What you didn’t expect, however, was for the ball to come hurtling in your direction, so fast and uncontrolled you hadn’t even been able to react as the weight of the ball knocks you off your feet, feeling the ground hit your back as the impact causes you to begin to lose conciousness. 

Bokuto Kotarou’s jaw drops as Akaashi’s slackens a little, both pairs of eyes widening as the last thing you hear is the sound of sneakers on the squeaky gym floor as Bokuto looks down at your limp figure in shock. The ball bounces away, leaving a trail of blood coming from out your nose. 

“Shit! Shit Shit SHIT OH MY GOD DID I KILL HER?!” 

“No, I...don’t think so.” 

“THINK? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY ‘THINK’, KAASHI?!”

“Yelling won’t change the fact that you just hit one of the captains of the girl’s basketball team.” 

“YOU SET THE BALL!” 

“You wanted me to set it, so techinically, you did this.” 

Bokuto’s golden eyes dim down a little, a wilt to his shoulders as he scoops you up carefully, guilt bouncing around his chest as he brushes some hair out of your face, Akaashi crossing his arms when Bokuto seems to gaze at your face for a second. 

“Um...are you gonna take her to the nurse, or is something supposed to happen-” 

“Right! Right, the nurse.” 

When you finally gain conciousness, your first reaction is to sit up quickly, groaning as soon as you did. What the hell happened? 

You blink when you’re immediately pushed back down again, but slower and gentler this time as the owl-haired boy in front of you gives you a nervous grin, golden eyes looking a tad sad as he begins to ramble. 

“You’re awake!! Do you want money? I can buy your lunch! Shoot shoot, uh...a goldfish! How about I buy you a goldfish?” 

His words are a tad difficult to process as you blink once, then twice before realizing he had been holding a warm towel to your nose, pink staining the white material as it indicates you had bled. You smile a small grin, pushing his wrist away as Bokuto rubs the back of his neck guiltily. 

“Bokuto...is it? Uh, I’m okay. Really.”  You assure him, telling the truth. Most of the pain had faded away, and you were left with a dull throb in your head. “I just really wanted to see you spike, I should’ve made myself known..”

“Really?” Bokuto’s eyes widen the slightest bit. “You wanted to see me spike?” 

“Yeah, that’s weird, right?” You laugh awkwardly, looking off to the side. “You’re one of the most talented players in our age range, right?”

Bokuto swallows, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he sees you, slightly bloody nose and all, smile as if he hadn’t just socked you in the face with a volleyball as you openly compliment him to his face. 

The words rush out before Bokuto can think twice. “Do you...want to?”  

“Want to...see you spike?” You arch a brow, surprised as Bokuto nods brightly as he grins, putting the warm towel on your nose again as he brushes some hair out of your face to keep it from getting wet. “I can make a private showing just for you as my apology! I’d just need to get your number...and your name...”

“Y/N.” You attempt to push the towel away again, only for Bokuto to catch your hand, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours as he gives you a half-grin. 

“Whaddya say we make it a date, Y/N?” 

“Depends, are you gonna hit me again?” 

“I’ll definitely be hitting on you, that’s for sure.” 

Akaashi Keiji fights the urge to roll his eyes as he closes the door quietly to the nurses office, wondering how the hell his best friend managed to turn the situation into an opportunity to get a cute date. 

Oikawa

“Ladies, remember: if you’re gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks.” 

“Lame as hell.” 

“Iwa-chan, I’ll give you my attention in a second, okay?” 

Oikawa Tooru misses the flicked off finger in his direction as he continues to talk up his group of fans, grinning his playboy grin at all of them in the middle of the lunch period. Hanamaki coughs as he approaches the middle of the courtyard, choking back a laugh as he examines the situation. 

“Is he really showing them how to serve a volleyball like they actually care?” 

“At least he’s not talking to us.” Matsukawa shrugs, boredly watching as well. “I say it’s a win-win situation.” 

“Show us, Oikawa-Kun!” 

“Yeah, let us see your famous serve up close!” 

“Girls, girls...” Oikawa puts his finger to his lips, winking once. “Promise to keep it a secret?” 

“Hey now...he’s not actually gonna hit it, right?” Iwaizumi sits up fully, drinking his melon juice as he sees his childhood friend actually take position, causing Iwa to choke. 

“Oi, shittykawa, is that really the best-?” Iwaizumi questions through a fit of coughs, but doesn’t manage to finish his thought as Oikawa’s already running to hit the volleyball already set into the air as he hits it towards a space with no students-

or so he thought. 

Through a herd of squeals and praises, chocolate brown eyes widen as your figure enters the direct line of fire, time seeming to slow down as you manage to turn in question at the sound, only for your jaw to slacken. 

The sounds of his fans drown out to Oikawa’s ears as the ball hits you straight in the face, causing you to stumble confusedly as you feel your face go numb, pain slowly taking its’ place afterwards. The distance doesn’t allow the setter to pinpoint exactly who you are, but he begins to move without thinking. 

Oikawa is careless as he pushes aside the girls surrounding him, legs moving so fast before breaking into a run just in time to catch you from falling into the grass. He blinks once, eyes in shock at what he had just done, all to show off for some girls. 

He watches the tears prick your eyes, eyes beginning to flutter shut as his rushed thought process doesn’t realize just who he hit. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I-” 

Oikawa feels a lump grow in his throat as your lips form a simple, yet meaningful smile as the colors in your vision begin to close in on you, his panicked mind still trying to register who exactly he had harmed. 

It’s okay. Your smile seemed to have meant. 

Weren’t you mad? Shouldn’t you be angered that this stuck up pretentious playboy had nailed you right in the face with the oh-so famous serve known to make half the teams in his district tremble at the thought of it? 

“Congrats.” Oikawa feels a familiar hand clasp his shoulder to see Iwaizumi looking down at your now unconcious figure. “You just hit the school sweetheart square in the face.” 

“S-School sweetheart? Shit, wait, Y/N?!” Chocolate orbs widen with realization as his adrenaline-rushed mind finally registers. 

Iwa grins a tad sadistically as Oikawa gapes at the beauty in his arms, now slightly bruised and passed out because of his doing as the setter carefully picks you up, regret brimming his eyes. 

“The one girl in the school you wanted, and you had to hit her? Nice.” 

Ushijima

“WATCH OUT!” 

You don’t have time to do anything of the sort as you had just slid the door open to the entrance of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club practice room just as Ushijima had nailed another practice spike, this one hitting the inner court so hard it had rebounded back out of control in another direction.

That direction just so-happening to be yours. 

The papers meant for the advisor slip out of your grasp as you try to process what had just happened, hearing the once boisterous gym drain of noise as the ball hits you square in the face. You had known of Ushijima’s scarily powerful spikes, but you had no idea the rebound back could feel like a ton of bricks. 

Ushijima seems to still in place as you faint backwards, eyes widening the tiniest fraction as the rest of the team surround your now blacked out figure, bruise forming on your nose along with a trail of blood. The powerful male slowly raises his hand to examine his palm, eyes betraying no emotion. 

He had done that...to a girl?

“I-Is she dead?” Goshiki whispers as Subaru nudges him, nodding over to a staring Ushijima as he takes in what he had done.

“Y’all are such babies.” Tendou yawns, walking over to begin to wrap your arm around his neck. “She wouldn’t die from something like a rebound, but if it had been the real thing-” 

“Shut up, you ginger.” Semi begins to take your other arm before the culprit’s voice makes him freeze in place. 

“No.” Ushijima’s steps manage to silent the team as they, excluding Tendou and Semi, all take a subconcious step back. They watch in bewilderment as Ushijima takes your unconcious figure with a gentleness they didn’t know he possessed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you into a piggy-back position. 

“I’ll take her. Continue practice.” 

Ushijima ignores the gapes and questioning stares as he walks out of the volleyball room, never had left practice early before for any reason. 

As he walks, feeling your even breaths against the back of his neck as he carries you easily to the nurse, he wonders just what he would say to you when you came to in addition to his apology. 

The stranger on his back seems to shuffle a bit, causing the ace’s steps to slow to a stop. 

“W-What...?” 

“I’m sorry, but try not to sleep. We have to make sure your head’s alright.” Ushijima says straight forwardly, blinking when you hum in agreement, still seeming to be out of it as you nuzzle your face into his neck. 

“Okay...” 

Before Ushijima can tell you not to do that, your next words make him press his lips together. 

“You’re a lot nicer than you look, you know?” You seem to slur, head lolling on his shoulder. “Sweeter too.” 

Thump.

Ushijima pauses for a few moments, beginning to walk again before stopping abruptly, grip on your legs relaxing as he feels your breathing even back out again. 

Wait. 

...thump?

Kuroo

“Kuroo, you’re hitting too hard.” 

“I don’t care!” The captain fumes as he grabs another volleyball from the basket, throwing it up to slam it across the gym angrily. “Stupid sensei! I don’t even know if I’ll be able to play in the next game if I have to take those dumb classes.” 

Kenma dodges the ball with a slight movement to his head as he doesn’t tear his gaze away from his console just as it hits the space next to his head. The setter looks up lazily as Kuroo grabs another. 

“I’m telling you, you’re-” 

Kenma’s cut off when he hits the ball again, this time not even bothering to put a spin of direction on it when it suddenly gets slammed outside a nearby open window, followed by a yell of pain. The two childhood friends exchange looks, Kenma getting to his feet with a sigh as Kuroo rushes outside. 

“I told you so.” 

Kuroo’s footsteps bring him to the point of contact, eyes widening at the sight of someone he recognizes leaning on the building for support, a hand rubbing your cheek as tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

“Shit! Are you okay?” Kuroo questions hastily as the captain’s heart beats in fear. How could he lose control of his power like that? The two friends watch, one less worried than the other, as you wave it off, laughing a little with a blush on your features. 

Kuroo breathes out the anxiety in his chest at your laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards the slightest bit as you go to say something-

The smile on your face seems to fade as you lurch forward, the impact of the spiked volleyball finally processing in your body as Kuroo catches you swiftly, anxiety back in his chest. 

“Hm. Well, have fun with that.” 

“K-Kenma, what?!” 

Kuroo sighs, annoyed at his best friend as he walks off carelessly, leaving you in the hands of the captain, who looks down at you guiltily before scooping you back up in his arms and back into the empty practice room. 

When you come to, the first thing you see are the eyes of the captain, ice pack on your forehead as you realize your head had been placed in his lap, Kuroo nursing you until you had woken up. 

Startled, you sit up quickly, his forehead colliding with yours as the ice pack falls into your lap. You share a groan, and you scramble out of his hold with a redness to your cheeks that the raven-haired captain couldn’t pinpoint. 

“That couldn’t have felt good.” Kuroo frowns, a hand reaching out to touch your forehead before you turn away, causing him to arch a brow. 

“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” The captain questions the victim of his doing, and you laugh a little too loudly. 

“U-Um! Nope, I’ve just got to uh- feed my shark-” 

Kuroo catches your arm before you can go, pulling you back down gently. 

“Do I need to kiss you or something to make you stay still?” 

The capain catches on as a pink hue takes over your cheeks as you do as your told, a smirk tickling the corner of his lips. 

“Y/N L/N, right?” 

“You know my name?” You squeak, only prompting Kuroo to come even closer as his feral eyes seem to keep you from running. 

“I heard through the grapevine someone of the sort had a crush on me all of last year.” 

You blanch, finding movement in your legs again as you ignore the dull throb in your head. Kuroo puts an arm on the opposite side of you, resting it on the bleacher as he leans even closer, seeming to trap you. 

“What I didn’t hear however,” 

The ice pack in your lap continued to melt. 

“Was that the girl who liked me was this cute.” 

[goldenraeofsun]

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

[archies-litterbox]

Whumptober No. 2: Talking is Overrated

Garotte | choking | gagged

Summary: Zoe wakes up in rather inhospitable custody, as well as in magic-nullifying shackles. She wants nothing more than to make her escape as soon as possible without relying on anyone to find her, but the fatigue and headaches brought on by a certain nullifier cast in the metal of her chains makes that rather difficult. And to make matters worse (or better?), she’s not alone.

Words: 7k

A/N: Welcome to Day 2! This one is a much longer piece than Day 1, but I was actually working on this for like a week before I realized it fit one of the Day 2 prompts, so I figured it worked! (“Garotte” is italicized because although this is written for the theme “gagged”, garottes are mentioned coincidentally). The next piece is gonna be for another fandom, and I won’t get back to ToA until likely Day 4, but for now, I hope you enjoy! Also this may be from Zoe's POV, but be fooled not - Douxie's the one getting whumped the most here. I mean... you know me.

[CW: Kidnapping/Capture, Muzzle, Chains, Swearing, Creepy Whumper (Antagonist acts creepy to Zoe but never lays a hand on her)]

--

It had been, by most conventional standards, not a particularly pleasant afternoon.

It started out fine for Zoe, going about her typical herb-collecting in the woods, but getting a sharp pain in her neck and waking up with cuffs on her wrists pretty much threw a wrench in things. The shackles were generously - as generous as shackles could get, anyway - tethered by a long chain to a stake in the ground, giving her enough length to lay back against a tree. Such was an opportunity she took without hesitation, for something - whether the sedative or some magic nullifier in her shackles - left her feeling drained. 

Drained, but not alone.

No, she woke up with another person in her predicament - another magic user, most likely, judging by the way that shackles were clamped on his wrists the same as hers, linked by a long chain to that same blasted stake in the ground.

But unlike her, he was unconscious. Whatever sedative they used must have been doing more of a number on the boy than it did to her. At least, that’s what she figured while the gangly kid laid knocked out on his side.

She decided not to wake him, instead resolving to try to think of a way out of this. Sure, hedge-witches were well-networked, and one of them was bound to track her down to this literal neck of the woods, if there was one thing Zoe Ashildr loathed, it was being at anyone’s mercy. The sooner she got herself out of here without waiting on anyone, the better.

As they sat around a campfire some meters away, the gang that must have been her and this guy’s captors didn’t even notice she was awake, and she hoped to keep it that way. The longer she wasn’t noticed, the longer she’d be left alone to think.

Well… to try to think, anyway, but it was hard to get any clever escape schemes going with the horrendous pounding behind her eyes.

Besides, her attempts to think through what almost might have been the start of a plan were interrupted by a groan beside her.

“Ooooh, Fuzzbuckets.”

...What was a fuzzbucket?

She’d been looking right at the ground at her feet before, but she shifted her gaze to the stirring boy next to her. Zoe couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Great, now she’d have to keep this kid calm, as if fighting through her brain fog wasn’t difficult enough on it’s own.

He lifted his head and sat up, still too dazed to realize his circumstances yet. But when he did, his big hazel eyes widened at the sight of the shackles on his wrists.

His eyebrows upturned, and he opened his mouth like he was going to scream, but Zoe reached out, almost lunging over to do so, and put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“Mh!” he squeaked behind her palm. His eyes were still widened for another second, but then they glanced down to her hands that were shackled just like his, and when he seemed to realize she was a fellow captive and not his captor, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were confused, if not a little affronted.

“The longer they go,” she whispered, nodding to the still-unawares gang that sat grumbling around their fire, “Without knowing you’re awake, the better. Don’t be loud.”

The boy nodded apprehensively and moved his head back to get away from her hand.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, fortunately lowering his voice.

“Right now…” she crossed her heels over each other, sitting back against the tree, “...sitting. And messing with these stupid shackles.”

He rubbed the side of his head, “How long have I…”

Zoe shrugged, “Beats me. Half an hour, at least - that’s how long it’s been since I woke up, anyway… what were you doing before?”

She wasn’t sure why she asked. His squeaking, even when he spoke quietly, was already worsening her headache.

Well, whatever - the question was out there.

The boy looked down to recollect what happened.

“Well… I was picking herbs. My master sent me out to do it. He’s probably in his study going,” he changed his voice to mimic what sounded like a surly old man, “Hisirdoux, what’s taking so long? They’re easy to spot, even for you!”

Zoe tilted her head, “Hisirdoux, huh?”

He nodded, as if remembering he hadn’t thought to introduce himself yet, “Hisirdoux Casperan! Apprentice to Merlin. But I like going by Douxie. It’s shorter, and people usually don’t sound like they’re scolding me.”

Ugh, great. 

Not only was she chained here, but she was stuck with an apprentice for a wizard synonymous with snuck-up snobbery.

“I was doing the same thing. Looks like that’s how they got the drop on both of us.”

Douxie - it was better, she admitted, and much less pretentious-sounding than Hisirdoux - tilted his head, “Don’t you have a name?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter.” she said.

“Come on, I told you my name.”

“Not like I asked for it.”

Douxie scrunched up his face in an adora-

NO.

Douxie scrunched up his face in a definitely-not-adorable pout.

“Fine, be all secret-y.” He curled his legs up and hugged them close to his chest with his shackled arms.

And that’s what she wanted to do. She didn’t want to say anything beyond what she had to say to Douxie. Not only was she apprehensive - for all she knew, he was some sniveling kid that knew just as much of the struggle of surviving as a magic user outside the sheltered walls of the castle as that privileged Arthurian toolbag did, which couldn’t have been much - but names were risky. If someone knew your name, they knew how to ask around for you. And she tried avoiding that as much as she could. If Douxie wanted to introduce himself, that was him, not her.

There was more she had to worry about besides introductions. Thinking of a plan… getting these cuffs off… not freezing…

She tried to tuck her hands under her underarms as best she could. These shackles drained her energy, and in addition to her magic’s obsoletion and the awful headache, it made her get cold easily in these woods, under the shade.

“...Are you cold?”

She turned her head to Douxie, who looked genuinely concerned. As skeptical as she was, she nodded.

“Not like I can whip up a fire… neither can you, so don’t try it.” she quickly added, holding up a pointer finger, “Draining Dust in the shackles. It’d just hurt.”

His eyebrows upturned, and he took a shaky breath. Merlin must have told him how poisonous it could be if it gets in the system.

“It’s toxic…” he mumbled, “It… it’s poison.”

“It’s not too bad just in the cuffs.” she said, almost to reassure him, “It shouldn’t actually poison you unless it gets in your system. Maybe if they rub against a cut, or something. Don’t worry about it - there’s enough to be scared of right now.”

Douxie nodded, swallowing, looking at her arms before glancing down at his hands.

“If your hands are cold… I could…”

He blushed, hesitation choking him up as he shook his head, leaning back against a tree of his own, next to the one Zoe was using for support.

“Agh, never mind.”

He tapped the back of his head against the bark, squishing his… manbun when he did.

“What do they even want?”

Zoe shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” she said, “For all I know, we could be going off to the highest-paying witchfinder… I just hope they don’t want our magic.”

“Well, they obviously don’t want it right now.” Douxie grumbled, shaking his cuffs. Assuming him to be truly clueless, rather than purposefully obtuse, she shook her head.

“I mean to do their dirty work. Keep the cuffs on until they need a spell or something, make us do it. We end up like vessels.”

Douxie looked down.

“Oh…”

Zoe stared down at her cuffed hands in her lap.

“I don’t think there’d be anything worse.” she huffed, “That’s the thing about everyone who hates magic. They say they want it eradicated, pushed out of their sight, crushed underfoot… until it helps them get what they want. Then they rip it from whoever they want, autonomy be forsaken.”

“And what if that’s…” Douxie asked, obviously worried now that he considered the prospect of being forced to use his magic against his will.

“...I'd rather they just get rid of me.” Zoe said, “Maybe taunt them until they do. No way they're getting my magic… especially not with these on.”

She lifted her shackled hands.

Douxie lolled his head back against his tree again.

“Urgh, it feels like they’re making me sick…” he whined, “I’ve got an awful headache.”

“Me too.” Zoe groaned, “Thought it was just from hearing you all along.”

Something panged her heart when she saw the way the boy’s eyebrows upturned. It wasn’t from the shackles, but something else… remorse.

“Ugh... sorry.” She lolled her head back against the tree for what felt like the fiftieth time this afternoon. “Uncalled for.” The apology felt foreign coming from her throat.

But Douxie only shrugged, “‘Salright. I’m notorious for causing headaches. And spills. And spikes in blood pressure. Merlin says so…”

His eyes widened with hope - faith, even, an odd thing - shining in his eyes.

“Merlin! He’ll find us! He’ll know I’m missing.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. Did he really have that much faith in that Arthurian toolbag?

“Sure.” She huffed. Douxie's eyebrows upturned.

“Come on… don’t you have anyone who'll miss you?”

Zoe lifted her head.

“A lot of people, actually. Hedge witches are pretty well-networked.” she said, immediately wanting to bite her tongue for mentioning what she was.

Douxie looked like he had stars in his eyes, which was… not the reaction she expected. She thought Merlin would have led him to think hedge witches were lesser in comparison to pristine magicians who managed to slither their way into King Arthur’s begrudging tolerance, but Douxie seemed… impressed? In awe?

“A hedge witch?” he asked in admiration, careful to keep his voice down. It caused a flutter in her heart that she wanted to beat down with a stick, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that could’ve come with her being flustered, so she nodded.

“One goes missing, the rest pick up on it. Just a matter of tracking down from there…”

Douxie’s mouth formed an “O” and his eyes widened, like he had an idea (which must have been something of a rarity, if this afternoon was anything to go off of).

“Oooh, like a game!” he said, “It’s just like waiting to see who gets here first! Guess we’d both win though, ‘cause we’d… y’know…” he lifted his hands, “Not have these on anymore…”

...Wow, he was an idiot.

“Yeah, sure. A game.” she said, sardonic, “Whoever’s people show up to save our sorry butts first wins.”

It was quiet for a little while after that. Zoe still kept trying to think up an escape plan, despite the headache that messed with her head, and Douxie had either gotten the hint that she wasn’t too giddy for conversation, or he’d grown too worried of his predicament for words.

Judging by the way he sat curled up, hugging his knees against his chest as he stared down at the grass, it might have been the latter.

Douxie’s head snapped up at a noise - one that made Zoe’s heart spike as she whipped her head forward; the sound of one of their captors heading over to them.

He was one of four of them, the other four still sitting around their fire and blathering on with cantines abound in their hands, and he was quite the nasty specimen. Big, burly, greasy-looking, but pretty typical, as far as most people who would kidnap two teenagers out on errands tended to look. He glowered down at Zoe, not paying the curled up moppet next to her much attention.

“You’re awake.” he said to her.

She leaned back against the tree, unimpressed.

“Took you and your drinking buddies long enough to notice.” she said, “It’s bad enough you chained us here, but seriously, you’re going to keep us waiting?”

Douxie, still curled up and now shaking, glanced between her and the… bandit, she wanted to presume? These kinds of guys were always bandits, or something.

The man scoffed, “Rather confident for a hedge witch.”

Zoe tilted her head, “Mm… nah, we’re all pretty much this cocky. What do you want? I was in the middle of something back there.”

“And I was too! Something very important!” Douxie squawked. Zoe grit her teeth.

This isn’t the time to try to be included!

“What you’re in the middle of now,” the supposed bandit said, “is a trip to a rather high-paying witchfinder.”

Wow, she thought, I hit the nail on the head. Great. Can I hit this guy on the head too, while I’m at it?

(But she couldn’t.)

Zoe huffed, “If he’s sending you around, then he’s not much of a witchfinder, is he? I mean, he didn’t even find me, a witch - you did.”

“So, er…” Douxie started, “He’s more of a… send-weird-bad-guys-to-find-witches...er.”

Zoe looked at him for a beat, confused by how much of an idiot he was. Really, he kept surprising her in this respect.

The bandit turned his head to Douxie, too.

“Actually, me and my boys-”

“My boys and I.” Zoe corrected, earning a growl.

“-weren’t sent out to find a witch.”

Zoe didn’t understand, and by the looks of it, neither did Douxie.

“Nah, the guy said he’d pay a rather high price for the apprentice to, say, Merlin Ambrosius…”

Douxie’s eyebrows upturned as he shrunk into himself. Wait, he’d been demanded? Then… what about Zoe?

The man turned to her, as if to answer her question.

“But when we saw a pretty little hedge witch going about nearby…”

Zoe’s stomach turned. Her magic, however suppressed, instinctively thrummed at her fingertips in an attempt at defense. She didn’t let it show how much it burned.

“...Why not get more out of the deal?”

So… she was the one that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Zoe almost felt a little insulted, but it was drowned out by anger and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, fear.

“If the “more” that you want is a bunch of hedge-witches after the sorry, ugly mugs of you and your “boys”, then go for it.” she said, keeping her voice cool despite clasping her hands to suppress the magic that would only hurt her, as long as those cuffs were on.

The hunter huffed, “I’d take the chance, I think. Worth the money.”

He knelt down. If Zoe could’ve backed against the tree any further, she would have. She gripped the chains on her shackles, wondering how good of a garotte the chain between them would make.

“I mean, I don’t see why anyone would turn that down…” his voice was lower now, and Zoe hated that. She really, really hated that.

“Maybe because they don’t have deathwishes.” she said, much more shaky than her liking as the man leered at her. “Do you?”

He brought up a hand.

“...Maybe I d-”

“DON’T TOUCH HER!”

It all happened so fast.

The screech next to her that sounded so unlike the quivering moppet from the past hour.

The slinking of chains moving fast against the ground.

The thumping of feet getting up on the grass.

The blur of brown, blue, and black that moved to her right.

The yowl from the hunter.

The last thing to finally catch up to her senses was a shocking sight, even more so than her own electric magic.

It was the fury in those hazel eyes as Douxie’s jaws clamped down hard on the hunter’s hand.

Zoe dove away from the scene, but mostly the hunter, as much as the chains allowed. Getting out of the space between those two and the tree, she got right to her feet. She wanted to shout something, do something, but she was too shocked by the scene for words. Here he was, some boy who she thought was a pretentious whiny little moppet who couldn’t do anything without Merlin’s approval, huffing and almost growling with his teeth locked onto the man’s hand like a dog’s on a piece of meat.

But as daring (and stupid, and possibly a tad feral) Douxie had been, he was light and gangly, and the hunter swinging his arm hard was enough to slam Douxie’s head against the tree, stunning him so his jaw opened so the hunter could pull his hand away.

Zoe hated that sound of skull meeting wood, and it made her wince, but it wasn’t as bad as the cry from Douxie. It seemed that ferocity was dormant now, smacked out of him as he lay slumped against the tree, somehow still conscious.

“What the hell…” she panted, still standing still as the weight of her shackles pulled her arms down, “What did you do?”

But, for once, Douxie didn’t say anything back.

“So, the little stray Merlin took in has a bite, now does he?” He said, kicking Douxie in the side on the emphasized word. The boy whimpered, grimacing with blood on his teeth, and with every ounce of the self-preservation that had been ingrained in her, Zoe fought tooth and nail against the urge to protect him. He was a stranger, just a kid caught up in the same messed-up predicament she was. It didn’t matter if he got himself in more danger than he was already in for her sake; she had no loyalty to him, and even if she did, her loyalty to herself was greater.

“...Well, I have something for that.”

But her stomach still dropped when she heard that.

The other three of the captors had already been running over, and when they got to their leader, he held out his hand. Without a word, one of the lackeys rummaged around in a bag for something that, whatever it was, Zoe desperately - no, why desperately? Why was she desperate for Douxie’s sake? - hoped he wouldn’t find.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, panting, her feet still planted to the ground.

The leader of the hunters, who still towered over Douxie, grabbed a fistfull of hair on the back of his head and yanked his bun loose.

“What you always use for dogs who can’t help but bite.”

The realization hit Zoe like a smack to the face. She started shaking her head, however minute the action was.

A second later, the realization apparently hit Douxie too, judging by the way his eyes widened and his breath quickened.

Both of them darted their eyes to the lackey with the bag, both knowing what he was looking for and hoping to anything they could that he wouldn’t find it.

But a damning “Aha!” from him all-but-confirmed their fear only a second before he pulled it out.

Zoe saw the straps. She saw the metal clasps. She saw -

Oh, no no no-

She saw the piece of metal that all the straps connected to; that was big enough and shaped just right that it could - no, it would cover the lower half of Douxie’s face and curve just under the chin to keep his jaw clamped shut.

A muzzle.

“NO!”

The scream/plea from Zoe sounded foreign to her, but she didn’t care. Laying eyes on that thing made her own, and she tried lunging forward, just like Douxie did for her, but two of the lackeys stopped her before she could take as much as three steps. They held onto her arms, both stopping her from moving forward and making her cuffed hands dig into her abdomen the more she thrashed against their hold, but she didn’t care. Not as her heels dug against the ground, not as the fabric of her dress sleeves chaffed against her sleeves with how tight the hold on her was, and not as magic thrummed under her skin despite the cuffs.

Douxie curled up and shook his head, clamping his hands over his mouth as if to block the muzzle from being put on. But once the leader had the muzzle in one hand, he used the other to yank on the chain for Douxie’s shackles to pull both the boy closer and to and pull his hands away from his face, stomping on the chain to keep it pinned. Douxie’s hands were forced down now, a mere inch or two off the ground, but even though he was practically stuck on his knees, he kept trying, trying, trying to tug himself away.

“No, no, no! Don’t! Please don’t!” Douxie pleaded.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Zoe screamed, louder than him. It probably wasn’t a good idea to scream at the man holding a muzzle, but she didn’t care. Not while she thrashed and tried pushing forward and yanking her way out of the grip of the men on either side of her.

Until a blade to Douxie’s throat made both him and Zoe go still.

Douxie froze, save for the sharp rise and fall of his chest, and Zoe stopped her thrashing in an instant. The one who’d rummaged around and found the muzzle in the first place was the one holding it, and the angered look in the leader’s eyes made the demand clear:

“Stay still and shut up, both of you, or he gets his throat slit.”

Zoe shook with anger, but stayed still on her feet, glowering at the man so she didn’t have to look right at Douxie.

But she could still see him.

Douxie was just as frozen as her, shaking more with fear than Zoe’s fury, until he tried to shy away from the blade on his neck (and inadvertently pressed his head closer to the man with that damn contraption in his hands), minutely shaking his head.

But when the one holding the blade put it closer to his throat, pressing it against the skin with enough force that so much as a mere twitch would cut him, he went limp (as much as his trembling allowed), squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded minutely - a silent resignation, a nonverbal “I won’t move, just don’t hurt me.”

Zoe closed her eyes, too. The sting of tears was overpowering, and she couldn’t… she couldn’t bear to watch.

“He’ll kill you.” she heard Douxie hiss, “Merlin will kill you, he’ll kill-”

A sharp intake of breath and a muffled whimper made Zoe’s stomach twist, especially when no more sound followed but those of tightening straps and the “chk” of a lock.

Zoe never thought a sound could hurt so much to hear.

Fortunately, oh so fortunately, the leader went back to his fire, and the others followed suit.

When the men on either side of her let her go, the first thing she did was fall to the ground. The way she unconsciously tried using her magic despite the nullifier winded her, so she ended up kneeling on the grass, further staining the skirt of her dress as she stared at the unfocused green mess underneath her.

She wanted to think that was the reason, anyway. Definitely not because of what she knew she’d see once she lifted her head.

But when she heard Douxie’s shaky breathing through his nose - the only way he could breathe, she knew - she straightened up and looked at him. How could she not?

For the first time today, Zoe realized that all she wanted to do was cry.

His mouth and some of his cheeks were covered by dark, dark grey metal that spread ear to ear, reaching just up to his nose. It was likely cast with Draining Dust, just like the cuffs on both their wrists that shared it’s hue. Two little straps on either side of his nose met at it’s bridge, with a ring that had another strap coming from it, too - one that stretched all the way down the middle of the top of his head (hence why the leader tugged his bun loose). Two straps, one on either side of Douxie’s jaw, met the end of that strap at the back of Douxie’s head, Zoe reasonably guessed. Just as well, she assumed that locking noise she heard was the lock being put on back there.

But guessing was all she could do about that, because she wasn’t looking there. No, all she could look at was his face - at the eyes of the muzzled boy that stared at her like he didn’t know what to say, even if he could speak.

In those heavy-lidded hazel pockets of quiet desperation, nearly hidden by messy strands of black hair, Zoe saw what she could only describe as the poor man’s despondence - so close to being checked out of all this, but not quite there, not quite lucky enough to lose awareness of the situation.

She got closer, so she sat on her knees right in front of him while he stared at the ground. She felt more at a loss for what to say than Douxie, even though she was the only one out of the two of them that could say anything.

“He… you…” she started, but none of the words felt right.

Douxie’s eyes drew up to hers, as if he just realized she was in front of her.

And his breathing picked up, and his eyes widened, as if, although he knew there was a muzzle on his face, the realization sunk in, like fangs into skin, that there was a fucking muzzle on his face.

Desperately, he brought his hands to his head, yanking at the straps in desperation only made quiet by the very thing making him desperate. After a second or two, he forwent pulling at the leather bindings in favor of pulling at the metal on his face, almost digging his fingers underneath it and starting to scratch his face in the process as he clawed near-hysterically at it, making high-pitched whining noises behind the muzzle. His eyes weren’t heavy-lidded anymore. No, they were like a wild animal’s (a resemblance only furthered by the muzzle), wide with the fact that he needed, needed, needed to get it off.

But he couldn’t. Not like this.

“Wait! Stop!” she grabbed his hands, and pulled them down. “You might cut your face! You’d only make it worse!”

The image popped into her mind of somehow, some-bloody-how, traces of that nullifying powder ending up in his blood, and if he got poisoned on top of all of this…

No, she couldn’t bear to think of it.

Douxie tried pulling his hands back, but however gentle Zoe was, she was firm in keeping them away from his face.

It took a few moments, but eventually, his attempts in vain subsided and his arms relaxed… only to start trembling with the rest of his body.

The whimpers and whines from before were nothing compared to the keening wail he let out as the futility of his struggling let in, made all the more awful by how muffled it was; as his torso lurched forward and his head hung low.

(Now, Zoe got a good look at the lock binding all the straps together, but she didn’t pay it much mind.)

Douxie let go of her hands in favor of balling his own into fists, but she still felt his tears fall on her arms as he started to sniffle.

No, no, not good. If started crying any harder, and his nose stuffed up, he wouldn’t be able to breathe through his nose due to the congestion and… well, obviously he wouldn’t be able to breathe any other way. And the last thing she wanted to count on - even less so than that armored, bearded, weird-metal-head-plated embodiment of pretentiousness caring enough to send help for his errand boy - was these guys being merciful and trading the muzzle for something more breathable, let alone just leaving him ungagged.

No, it was too much of a risk.

“No, no, no, no. Don’t cry. Please.” It only made Douxie sob behind the metal again, the thought of something else being taken, but she explained, “If you cry, you might plug up your nose. You’ll suffocate.”

But that only scared him more, she realized as his eyes widened, his eyebrows upturning as he shook his head again, whining behind the metal that made the sound near-inaudible. She put her hands to either side of Douxie’s face, despite herself, despite the coldness she carried with her like a switchblade.

Douxie put his hands over hers. She tried to ignore the flutter in her heart - anything to help him get grounded.

“I need you to breathe. I need you to take deep breaths for me, and I need you not to cry. Just - just keep that nose of yours cleared up, okay?” She rubbed her thumbs over the little bit of his cheeks still uncovered by cruel, horrendous metal. “Can you do that for me, Douxie?”

Douxie’s eyebrows raised, and he seemed to relax a little with a certain realization - one that made Zoe fight back heat in her cheeks…

That was the first time today she’d called him Douxie.

And it was enough to help calm him down; to help his breathing slow, and to help the tension leave his body, even if it was just a little bit.

His eyes became heavy-lidded again, and however strange it sounds, Zoe thought it was a relief. It meant that he’d calmed down; that he was less of that frenzied, near-wild person from moments before and more of that moppety boy he’d been all this time.

Really, it was hard to believe they were even the same person, and if Zoe hadn’t seen it for herself, she wouldn’t have.

And even now, she still couldn’t wrap her head around the way he clamped down on that man’s hand, biting like a wild animal. It wasn’t his being daringly stupid - or stupidly daring? - that unnerved her, but the way he’d been as such…

How was she supposed to expect that from anyone? Especially Merlin Ambrosius’ sniveling errand boy?

“Why…” she huffed, “Why did you do that?”

Douxie couldn’t rightly answer, but he gestured to their captors again, bringing up a shaky hand to do it. Looks like Zoe would have to fill in the blanks.

“You…”

She sighed.

“You just didn’t want him to hurt me, did you?”

Douxie nodded, his head lolling with each motion because of the weight from the metal across half his face.

“...You know,” she started, “If he got close enough, I would’ve just tried using these chains as a garrote.”

Douxie tilted his head, mumbling something unintelligible in confusion.

“Something you wrap around someone’s neck to choke them out.” she explained and shrugged, “...Probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway.”

Douxie shrugged, noncommittal.

“I didn’t expect that from you, but I guess that goes without saying, huh?”

The look Douxie gave her was almost deadpan - enough to let her know that was the wrong choice of words. Oops.

“Heh, sorry…”

When she realized her hands were still on his face, a realization that made a pink tint come to her own cheeks (the same hue she’d eventually dye her hair, which was still brown now), she started taking them off…

...But Douxie put his hands on hers with a muffled whine.

“M’kay…” she gently rubbed under his eyes again, “Alright…”

She humored him, kept her hands on his cheeks. Not because she pitied him, or felt like she owed him for that stupid way he leaped and bit for her sake, but… he was scared, and if she let it show - if she brought forth even a sliver of the fear she felt today, he wouldn’t hesitate to comfort her, just like he didn’t hesitate when that bandit brought his hand up...

And she couldn’t turn down that sad look of helplessly quiet desperation in his eyes, no matter how much she wanted to.

Zoe sighed.

She wasn’t much for reassurance, but for his sake…

“...We’ll be okay.”

Douxie cast his gaze down, clearly not believing the statement as much as she did (even though earlier, the inverse was true). No, no no no - he couldn’t get discouraged; Zoe couldn’t let him.

“I mean it.” she insisted,  “You’re Merlin’s errand boy, right?”

Douxie mumbled something - a correction, a muffled “apprentice” - behind the metal clamped cruelly over his mouth.

“Then he’ll know you’re missing, and he’ll come for you. And the hedge-witches will come for me. Like a game, remember? Like you said?”

Douxie nodded, a little of the light returning to his eyes, as if he were happy that Zoe remembered what he said so naively earlier.

But despite that light… Zoe could tell that Douxie was exhausted.

“...It makes you more tired, doesn’t it?” she said, and it was obvious what “it” was. Douxie nodded, moving her hands with the motion. Of course it did - again, it didn’t take much to reasonably assume that it was cast with Draining Dust, just like the shackles, and now that more of it was on him, it just made him more miserable… 

Douxie moved his head out of her hands and started to lay down on the ground, but he still looked miserable, curling his arms around himself and curling his legs. And Zoe couldn’t take it. If she had any way of making him more comfortable…

...Well, at the very least, she had an idea.

“Sit up, Douxie,” she said to the boy that lay curled up next to her. Obviously a little confused, he sat up so he sat up and put his heels underneath him.

Zoe stretched her legs out and gauged, just by looking, how well her arms could fit around him. Even with his vest, he was rather skinny, and her arms were long, so she figured it would work. 

“I have an idea. I can try to make it a bit more comfortable.” she held her hands up, “Can I…”

Douxie didn’t look like he knew what she’d try to do, but he nodded all the same.

Her back had been laying up against the tree before, but she sat up a bit to get closer to Douxie - close enough to raise her shackled arms and put them over his head and down so they lay somewhat loose around his torso, like she was hugging him from behind. 

He looked a little confused, but didn’t recoil, so she laid back against the tree and gently pulled Douxie with her, so the back of his head laid against her shoulder, and he could rest it there, against the softness of the cloth that made up her dress.

And that’s what she did. As much as he still didn’t seem to get this (and to be fair, Zoe didn’t get why she was doing this, whatever this was, either) and his arms were somewhat pinned to his sides by the embrace, he still seemed relaxed.

“How’s this?” she asked, “If you don’t like it, I can-”

Douxie brought up his own shackled hands, his arms still sort of pinned to his sides by Zoe's embrace, to hold hers, only nestling further against her.

It was a clear enough answer - one that made Zoe feel relieved that she wouldn’t have to let go of him. She hated that relief, as good as it felt. It meant that if she did have to let him go, if something took him from her arms, it would hurt. And that knowledge - the looming threat of that pain - was dangerous.

But she found that right now, for once today, there was little she could bring herself to hate.

“Oh… ‘kay.” she rubbed one of his fingers with her thumb, “Okay…”

Despite the way one of the straps of Douxie’s muzzle - which she wanted nothing more than to blast right off - dug against her collarbone, the slow, steady breathing against her helped calm her as much as her hold calmed Douxie.

Zoe laid her head back against the tree, feeling fatigue weigh on her own eyelids once again.

“...It’s Zoe, y’know.”

Douxie lifted his head a little and looked up at her, “Mmh?”

Zoe brought her gaze, which lay aimlessly at the sky above the forest, down to the boy in her arms.

“You asked my name before.” she said, “It’s Zoe.”

When he seemed to finally understand what she was referring to, he hummed in contentment and squinted his eyes a little - the closest thing he could convey to a smile.

Zoe tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered, trying to at least keep any traces of it off her face.

Douxie closed his eyes and nestled his head against her again.

...She was just tired. That’s all this was. It was the cuffs, the stress, the circumstances. They were the only reasons she felt her heart warm when he saw that he looked content, despite the shackles on his wrists and godawful contraption clamped on his face; the only causes for her relief that his tears were drying under his closed eyes, his pretty lashes. Certainly, it wasn’t because he’d managed to make himself someone who meant something to her, to bumble his way through her barriers. And most definitely, it was not because she loved-

DAMN IT.

Zoe sighed, as if in defeat, and rested her head atop Douxie’s.

“Let’s just… sleep.”

“Mhm…”

And that’s what they did.

--

Zoe woke up some twenty minutes later, she guessed. It got chillier, and apparently, she’d been asleep long enough for thick clouds to form overhead. She hoped it wouldn’t rain - it was the last thing she needed.

She looked down at Douxie, and of course, he was still asleep. Her arms ached a little - something that would have driven her up a wall before - but she didn’t mind much now. Not while she listened to his slow, quiet breaths as his chest rose and fell in her hold.

Zoe huffed, grateful that the boy's breathing was still clear; she didn't calm him down earlier just for his nose to stuff up now.

She could hear footsteps - hulking, stomping steps - come her way. As her stomach dropped, her gaze picked up. She steeled it when she saw the leader of those damn hunters standing over her, glowering. He was pissed, and over what? Over the fact that she tried to comfort Douxie when he made the child miserable?

Gritting her teeth, she held Douxie a little tighter. Not enough to make him stir. Instinctively, she could feel her hands burn as her magic tried to surge to her fingertips, an unconscious attempt brought forth not of desperation, but of resolve.

Just like Douxie protected her, Zoe would protect him, even if she had to shatter these shackles and set this whole forest alight with a lightning strike to do it.

And when that bastard reached down to Douxie, she feared it would come to that.

...but it didn’t.

With a blast of a green magic poofing out around him like an aura, the man froze. That same green hue of magic surged down both her and Douxie’s chains, and when it reached their cuffs, they snapped right open.

With a sigh she felt like she’d been holding in since she first woke up here, Zoe’s hands relaxed and fell to her side, free of that godawful metal.

Naturally, they also dropped Douxie, who, without that little support, flopped on her lap. Thankfully, his head landed on his side, rather than directly on that lock on the muzzle, which hadn’t been affected by that blast of magic and still remained clamped on his face. The last thing anyone needed was the lock getting damaged to where unlocking it would be impossible.

“Mh!” His eyes snapped open, and his eyes darted around in confusion. Zoe couldn’t blame him. Once he seemed to realize his cuffs were off, he rubbed at his aggravated wrists. Zoe couldn’t blame him for that either.

She looked up at the still… still man in front of her.

“He’s frozen.” she said and leaned to the side to see that the same quick work of immobilization had been done to the rest of the hunters, “They all are.”

Douxie lifted his head, as trying a task it was, and he squinted when he saw the green aura around the hunter and the bright green cracks surging through their old chains like glowing veins, as if inspecting - trying to figure out if this was real. If he could really hope.

But Zoe knew he could.

“Looks like he found you first, didn’t he?” she asked.

And seconds later, she heard new footsteps getting closer this time - armored, urgent footsteps - and she knew that she was right.

“Hisirdoux!” Zoe heard a grouchy old man’s voice call out. Of course, he sounded just like that silly impersonation Douxie did of him earlier.

Speaking of Douxie (which he still couldn’t do at all yet), the boy sat up as fast as he could. Swaying with the extra weight on his head, he got up so he was sitting on his knees, and he whined in an odd mix of desperation and relief behind the metal over his mouth, as if - after the horrible, awful afternoon this had been - Merlin Ambrosius could not get over to him fast enough.

“Heh…” Zoe huffed to herself, rubbing her own wrists. Really, she thought her fellow hedge-witches would track her down in these woods way faster than anyone from that ever-pristine castle, but that didn’t matter. A rescue was a rescue.

“Looks like you won.”

[junhuiste]

next level (ex-wip)

pairing: wonwoo x gn reader

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, angst, slightly suggestive, cursing, friends to enemies to lovers, college au

a/n: so i said i’d publish my other ex wips and here’s another one! i planned on making this a 3 parter where y/n asks wonwoo for help on a computer game even though they were enemies but before that they were friends …does that make any sense i didn’t think so! also this is an ex wip so sorry for the asterisks everywhere! those words were the ones i was gonna replace later on lmfao!!!! also i wrote this 2 years ago when i was 17 so my apologies if its utter bullshit 😭

as wonwoo help you leveled up, you wondered if you should do the same regarding your friendship…errr…enemyship….

It’d been an hour or so of Wonwoo verbally guiding you through the various moves and strategies but once he stood up your breath suddenly hitched, for whatever reason.

Breathing seemingly became somewhat harder as you saw from the corner of your eye that wonwoo was coming to stand behind you.

“it’s gonna get harder,” he said softly, his hand finding yours, “let me help you.”

as much as you appreciated his help, you didn’t need wonwoo to baby you; you were perfectly capable of taking verbal directions without needing guidance like a rookie. “i can do it; i swear!”

though it was hard to train your eyes on both wonwoo and the computer monitor simultaneously, you managed to do it anyway. “that’s not what you said last week when i offered you my help.”

it wasn’t that you didn’t need wonwoo’s help, and it wasn’t certainly that you didn’t want it, but there was something mischievous yet somehow alluring and amusing pushing him away. it was honestly quite ***horrible ** for you to admit it, but playing cat and mouse was refreshing, though it was a game hard to keep up with.

eventually you gave in and you took deep breaths slowly and surely as wonwoo’s hand rest atop yours. it was warm, but not sweaty; relaxed, but not ***heavy***. his head was most definitely closer to yours than last time, even though you tried to focus solely on the computer monitor, he was within an ear’s whisper from you. as he guided your hand, your thoughts glided slowly away from the game entirely and onto the boy behind you. it was hard, really, to ****focus*** on the 146th level of the game when the boy you liked a while back had his shoulder barely leaning into yours, with his warmth radiating onto you so so comfortably.

it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since wonwoo had stood up behind you that his arm was now resting ***comfortably***on yours. the weight of his top half ***barely*** on yours wasn’t even what went into consideration, for the most part. it what you could feel was ***slowly*** developing in the room, moment by moment, and it was excruciatingly painful how much time it took to build up. palms clammy, fingers ready to give out, and breathing ***most definitely*** not under control, you were ready to tap out and give into your instincts.

a mosh pit of psychedelic colors reflected onto both of your faces as the round ended. with the blinds only half drawn and how bright the screen was turned up, you winced at what seemed like a light source that envied the sun glared at you. the heat from the screen wasn’t the only **warmth**** prevalent, however. you certainly hadn’t forgotten about wonwoo’s shoulder ***leaning** onto yours.

avoiding all what you’d learned in high/secondary school about what freud said about the ego calming the id, you surpassed straying from your normal actions. you’d leaped from them, and it couldn’t be fathomed by anyone, by you or soonyoung, or especially jeon wonwoo, what lead you to remove your headphones and turn around in the computer chair and then kiss jeon wonwoo. what was most surprising was that he leaned in too, so much didn’t have to be done on your part.

as he leaned in closer, you pulled wonwoo closer, as if it were instinct and you’d kissed him a thousand times before. knowing him for quite some time, it was evident that he didn’t link up with anyone, whether that be for a single night of pleasure or months of commitment, so it was ***most definitely*** more than alike to a jack-in-the-box when he knew what he was doing, and so well too. his hand **softly*** stroking your cheek with your thumb and your hand ***softly **rubbing*** his neck were a pair you never would’ve expected in light years would be together. the whole ***thing** was just unbelievable…and undoubtedly **breathtaking***, as such as you would ***hate*** to ever tell him.

flashes of blue and red glossed wonwoo’s face again as you looked up at him. “would you look at that,” a slight tinge of satisfaction laced his tone and captured his expression, as you heard a faint “level 147 unlocked” behind you.

the exact reason you were at the dorm for you had completely abandoned; your endeavor was ***seemingly** cut short by your id, too strong for it to be tamed by your superego. in fact, all goals for the game were temporarily thrusted into the iceberg of your unconscious thoughts as you looked up at wonwoo again while tugging his shirt.

it was a precarious game of truth or dare you were playing with yourself, and you were losing to nothing none other than your current desires? mere attractions? repressed feelings? whatever it was, it didn’t really matter as wonwoo leaned into you again, this time more ***forcefully/intensely**, with both of you managing to slip a tongue in here and there. french kissing wonwoo? not exactly on your bucket list but something you were glad to have checked off, be it for lust, regret, or simply nostalgia of how you once felt for the boy who’s sweater you were tugging at to bring him closer and closer and closer.

it had **certainly** been more than a few good minutes of locking lips with jeon wonwoo, and what resulted was both of you panting heavily and looking each other in the eyes a little too intensely for your liking—not necessarily a look of sin but rather of repressed longing and ***regret**. the tension swore to engulf you and spit you out but what was sprinting through your mind instead was that wonwoo kissed you back.

had the naive, freshman you known that making out with jeon wonwoo would become a reality, you would’ve jumped at the thought. was he cute or irritating? bold or brazen? or was he simply just there that you immediately caved in and let your libido think for itself? it was just like that class where he palpated you; did feelings resurface because of a craving for affection? or was wonwoo a person you genuinely wanted to pursue something with. restating what he’d said earlier, that’s not what you’d thought a few months ago.

confusion. that’s what it was at most, at best, with the clearest label. wonwoo was there, yes, but he was also ***caring** (yet competitive), offering (yet **pretentious**), and someone you’d cared for back. the way he carried himself around you was *annoying** at times, sure, but he was never malicious. wonwoo had not one bad bone in his body, and you were willing to stand by that statement. his competitiveness and bold nature that peeked in once in a while were far outweighed by his humility.

no matter how many times he corrected you as naive and curious freshmen, you’d always find yourself falling back to feelings. just like now. but what was it really? did bubbles reappear just because of his hand on yours? because of his somewhat secret smiles when he knew you enjoyed his company? maybe. but it certainly wasn’t because he was just there.

even if bubbles popped and didn’t reappear, it would be better to get feelings out, right? it would lessen the blow, for both you and wonwoo. would you come to terms with what you once harbored for jeon wonwoo? maybe not.

sitting on the bed, wonwoo perked his head up at the sight of you in the chair finally facing him. “this…this isn't a heat of a moment thing…” you began, taking as much of your precious time as possible. if you were going to confront how you felt and didn't feel simultaneously, it might as well have taken some thought at the very least, especially for wonwoo’s sake.

the raven-haired** boy hunched over with a quirked eyebrow to continue to hear you out.

“i like you—i’m sorry, i mean i used to like you. like a lot. sometimes a lot for my own good. back in freshman year.” it was a struggle to get it all out in one breath. confrontation should be something you’d never have to do again. wonwoo stayed silent, his eyes no longer **trained* on yours, but shifted **somewhat** nervously to the floor. the way your heart pulsated mercilessly at the brutal sound of silence forced the temperature to shoot up suddenly.

it didn’t work; you didn’t feel clean, worse actually, and from what it looked like at the moment, wonwoo probably did as well. he usually did well when it all boiled down to fear, feelings, and *rationality* mixing, because he pushed it away. everyone knew that, and you especially. he didn’t take any hard hits when he was third-wheeling soonyoung or roaming mindlessly at one of **NCT’s** notorious frat parties.

maybe it was time to leave. perhaps those moments of silence where you had to recollect yourself, your dignity, and your feelings were a pure waste.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i just threw that at you. i’ll leave now—and uh, thanks for the help.” sometimes feelings weren’t merely felt, other times they were ruthless and just sprung up at the worst of times. maybe that’s why your body was unforgiving and threatening to prick your eyes with water. hurriedly, you grabbed your headphones and clenched them tightly in your fist before taking a step to leave.

however, a pang of something hit. it was unidentifiable, that thing that was keeping you from taking any more steps to leave wonwoo’s room. it was agonizing at the same intensity as it was delirious, and wild and tantalizing even. whatever it was, it was piercing you, forcing you to stay in place.

once again, the air around you was impassioned and the evident thumping and thrashing and thrusting in your chest occurred as wonwoo stood up in front of you. his tall stature didn’t threaten you, only how you felt did.

“how long?” he pried with a *cold** kind of warmth before sitting down in the computer chair. his knees were almost touching yours, and he leaned back with burning curiosity.

“i…don’t know. it was a while back…and for a long time; that’s all i remember.”

the unspoken miracle had graced you as river that almost formed around your eyes earlier had finally dried up.

wonwoo had that same look on his face he always had when no answers or solutions came to mind right away. it wasn’t expressionless, far from it. you didn't know if it was inquiry or discontent, or even a thrill; the latter you’d wished but was far from being a reality.

the way wonwoo struggled to get out what he wanted took you aback. he always knew what to say, whether witty, spiteful, or helpful, and to plain sight of him also choking on his words threw you for a numbing, yet throbbing** loop.

“do you still like me?” wonwoo finally made eye contact with you, the kind of eye contact someone makes when they itch for the answer to so badly be yes.

it was at that moment that he locked you in again. but you spent the last year convincing yourself you hated him. indeed, hate was too strong of a word for it. something else. and just as you’d told him, it was absolutely not the kiss that stirred you to confess in a half-assed manner. it was just so bothersome to not know what those feelings were.

it almost choked to say it, because you *genuinely* felt it, but didn’t know what exactly to do about it.

“i-i don’t know.” you couldn’t keep up with eye contact. it was much too biting.

wonwoo captured your eyes again, but this time it wasn’t the same confused gleam they held, but rather one of clouded elation. you couldn’t exactly tell, but you knew it was just electricity in there somewhere.

“do you want to kiss me again?” was the million dollar question that was lurking. wonwoo asked it with such subtle amusement. instead of taking advantage of your feelings and vulnerability in this situation, which he would never think to do, he decided to act upon his own.

there was an evident yearning in his tone, his body language, his eyes, everything. you knew the difference between when wonwoo was simply waiting for an answer and when he was aching for it immediately. this moment called for the latter.

his inclination provoked a smile out of you. whatever it was, you didn’t know how you felt; you just knew you needed to kiss him again.

you dropped everything you had been clenching so tightly in your hands and and bent down to hold his face in your hand as you leaned in. his soft lips finally met yours again, and unlike the first couple of kisses you shared, this time it was *softer***, slower, driven by an avid and throbbing want to be as close to the other person as possible. this time it had meaning. and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away as wonwoo’s hand came behind your thigh to pull you closer to him.

he was never one to make the first move, for most things, and it surprised you when he popped the question and pulled you to him. practically falling on him in the chair, you whispered out a faint “sorry”, as he rushed to hold you. he *giggled softly** before he continued to kiss you. eventually you repositioned yourself to straddle him in the chair and oh my god you were making out with jeon wonwoo.

videogames, huh?

[whumpmatsus]

So. Todomatsu always ACTS like he hates that Karamatsu is so eccentric, but we all know he actually doesn't mind that much. If anyone else made fun of him for that stuff, I can't help but think he wouldn't let it fly. So what about a situation where Karamatsu gets made fun of/bullied/put down by someone OUTSIDE the family for being the way he be and Todomatsu gets an opportunity to go into full protective mode over him??

OH SHIT the youngest of them goes feral

dare I say... RELEASE THE BABY!!!!!

God I love Zaimoku, it’s so good <3

-

If Totty is being completely, utterly, unfailingly honest with himself, his brothers need his help if one of them is going to be going on a date.

Really, he’s the only one who has any clue about how to act on a date! He could hit his big brothers over the head with a Clue-by-four with that shit and they still wouldn’t really get it.

Even so… part of him thinks he shouldn’t really be following Karamatsu to a date. Karamatsu is the one Totty knows is never going to come running to him for advice or assistance, especially with girls; he’s got the undeserved ego of an avocado toast sandwich. Totty isn’t sure he’d be pleased to know his baby brother tagged along not because he has to sort out a schedule thing at work, but because he wants to keep an eye on Karamatsu.

What else is he supposed to do, though? Just let Karamatsu go alone and totally blow it? His usual behavior aside, Totty really wants his big brothers to be happy and have fulfilling relationships. He thinks if he can be there to keep an eye on things, well, maybe it won’t go so bad. Maybe Karamatsu will have a shot with this woman. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend!

The very idea was enough to make him feel a little better about lying so that his brother will take him along. It eases his conscience, imagining that if he manages to help Karamatsu out to the point that the second eldest ends up in a loving, joyful relationship, (obviously as opposed to the past few horrible ones he’s had), then a little fib isn’t so bad, is it?

After all, if he were the one in need of something like this, he’d be grateful for his brothers’ help however they did it.

Of course, when he sees the look this girl gives Karamatsu, a look like the kind a baby gives after licking a lemon for the first time, Totty can’t help but wince. This isn’t off to a great start. He lingers by the counter, greeting Sacchi and Aida, trying not to look as if he’s watching his big brother’s date.

“Aren’t you off today, Totty?” Sacchi hums as she turns to start making a drink.

He nods. “Yeah, well, I can’t stay away, I guess, haha.”

Aida jerks her head toward the table where Karamatsu and his date are. “That’s one of your brothers, right? Still as painful as ever,” she teases. “Is he… oh, my God, he’s on a date??”

“Shhhh, shh!” Totty waves his hands a little, hoping to get his friends to quiet down a little. The last thing Karamatsu needs is to be drawing attention. “He thinks I tagged along to talk to you guys about my schedule. But, yes, he’s here on a date.”

Sacchi finishes serving her customer, one of the few in the shop at the moment, and then leans against the counter to look over. “Aw, good for him. He’s not either of our types, but he deserves a shot with someone who’s interested.”

He lets out a soft sigh. “Agreed there. I kind of just wanna keep an eye on him, you know? To make sure he doesn’t mess it up too much. He should have let me pick his outfit, ugh… that aside, he’s doing okay so far, though, I think.”

Aida frowns as she slides a cup of coffee toward her coworker. “Um, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s got his work cut out for him. I’ve been to some mixers with that girl, and she always finds something wrong with every guy she hangs out with.”

“She’s right,” Sacchi adds. “Good thing you came along so you can carry him home, ‘cause that girl’s gonna tear him to pieces. I mean, she went out with Atsushi and the next day he was in here crying and telling me she made him feel two inches tall. Nobody’s good enough for her.”

Aida clicks her tongue. “Your big brother’s in big trouble, Totty.”

It’s Totty’s turn to frown as he looks toward Karamatsu. Unfortunately, Sutabaa is so small and he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to strain too much to hear what’s being said.

The woman is laughing. However… Karamatsu hasn’t even really opened his mouth yet. “Oh, my God! You’re my date, huh? Last time I let my sister set me up. That bitch, haha. Ah, well… wow, your jacket is hurting my eyes. Could you take it off?”

Karamatsu seems to be trying his best to smile. “O-oh, yes, of course.” He moves to tug it off, folding it over the back of his chair. “Please forgive me. Anyway, my name is Karamatsu. And you, my angel?”

“Ahaha, WHAT?” The woman raises an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, dude. Don’t call me that. I’m nobody’s angel.”

Totty feels himself starting to steam. You’ve got that right.

“A-ah… right, my apologies.” Karamatsu just keeps smiling. The expression on his face reads almost like he’s in pain. “Well, should we order?”

She gives a cursory glance toward the menu, then suddenly her eyes are drawn to Karamatsu again. “Oh, my God, hold on… is… is that your face on your shirt?! Holy shit! Are you really that full of yourself?”

Totty’s heart sinks as his brother’s cheeks flush bright red. This is not going well. And while, yes, Karamatsu probably should have picked a different shirt, what’s really wrong with what he’s wearing? Even though he’s a little over-the-top and dramatic, this woman can’t know whether or not he’s ‘full of himself’ when she’s barely letting him get a word in.

Totty is the most socially intelligent of his brothers, and even he doesn’t think Karamatsu’s actually doing anything wrong. He hasn’t drawn anyone else’s attention like he usually does, he hasn’t gone overboard with any poses, and he’s… kind of just being himself, slightly toned down. It’s not like he’s bragging or being a jerk. Hell, it’s just a strange fashion choice; how the hell does she think it has any bearing on what he’s like as a person?

“Damn,” Sacchi cringes. “She’s not wasting any time, is she?”

Aida gives a pout toward her friends. “He didn’t even do anything wrong yet. He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little odd and, like, a tiny bit painful. But he’s acting really nice and polite.” Sacchi sighs as she props her head up on her hand. “There’s no pleasing some people. Aida, why don’t you go take their order? Maybe you can accidentally spill it on that pretentious top of hers when you bring it to them.”

“Pfff, if only. I’m on it, though.”

Totty continues to fume as he watches his poor brother try to impress this girl, pretty much in vain. He gets the feeling that nothing Karamatsu says or does is going to be good enough. For some reason, that really pisses him off. Despite the fact that Karamatsu can be a bit much, that he’s overcompensating for being insecure on the inside, that everyone rolls their eyes at him… Karamatsu isn’t a bad guy. He tries hard to make other people happy and treats them with respect. Even his brothers who don’t always return the favor.

By the point Sacchi and Aida are finished making their order, the youngest is ready to explode at this woman. She never even told Karamatsu her name, but she’s spent the whole time talking him down. When she asked what he did ‘besides be super excruciating’, and he told her he didn’t really have a job, she laughed at him. He tried to save it by saying he occasionally played guitar at coffee shops, and she responded something along the lines of, “What kind of hipster loser does that these days??”

Listening to it just makes him so angry. She doesn’t think Karamatsu is attractive, she’s called him embarrassing more than once, and no matter what he does or says, she’s not happy with it. Why the fuck did she even bother going out with him, then?

Totty was worried that Karamatsu was going to screw this up; so far he’s actually managed to be a decent date. He wasn’t prepared for his brother’s date to be the shitty one.

Sacchi brings him a simple iced coffee while Aida returns with the serving tray, a fake smile on her face from laughing uncomfortably at one of the woman’s comments. “God, she’s exhausting.”

“I don’t even know her and I can’t stand her,” Totty mutterrs before taking a sip of his drink. “Why the hell is she treating him like that? He’s just… being himself!”

Being himself. Karamatsu’s really not doing anything wrong. He’s trying to talk himself up when this woman gives him a chance to, but who doesn’t talk themself up on a first date? He just wants to impress her.

It makes Totty feel a little guilty to realize that, honestly, all Karamatsu really wants is to impress everyone because he wants people to like him… including his brothers. If Karamatsu feels the need to seek love and acceptance from strangers like this girl, to the point that he’s willing to put up with the horrible way she’s treating him, what does that say about his brothers? It’s not the first time he’s sucked it up and dealt with something he shouldn’t have from someone just because he wants that person to love him.

His attention is drawn by the woman giggling a little too loudly. “Fuck, you wanna go out with me again? I mean, how do you think this is going? I’m two seconds away from sneaking out the bathroom window. You’re so obnoxious, you dress like an edgy middle schooler, and who wears sunglasses inside, especially when it’s raining outside? You’re, like, cringe incarnate.”

Completely contradicting every statement she made, she slid her hand across the table to take his, if only for a brief moment. The wicked look in her eyes, more sadistic than even Ichimatsu, made Totty’s stomach twist in anger. “I might keep you around, though. You seem like a guy who’d keep me laughing for a while. Maybe next time I’ll take you out with my friends so everyone can laugh at you.”

Oh, that’s it.

He doesn’t know if Karamatsu is oblivious to what she means because he’s blinded and deafened by the promise of another date, or if he knows exactly what she means but perhaps thinks it’s worth it. His eyes light up… and behind that hopeful spark is the pain she’s already put him through.

Baby of the bunch though he is, Totty isn’t going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while some bitch takes advantage of his big brother.

“Oh, that is sooooo not happening!” he calls as he approaches the table. Although he feels a little bad about just stepping in like this, he’s not gonna let her get away with treating Karamatsu like that. Laughing at him herself was bad enough; parading him in front of her friends for all of them to laugh at him when there’s nothing wrong with Karamatsu isn’t gonna happen if Totty has something to say about it.

The woman gives him an unimpressed look. “Who the fuck are you?”

“T-Totty!!” Karamatsu,  on the other hand, looks immediately panicked. “I can handle this… please, go back and fix your schedule, and I’ll meet you at home.”

“Wait, you work here?” She tilts her head at him. “Oh, shit, hold up. You’re the asshole who messed up my drink last time I was here.” Her gaze flits between the two of them, and she laughs again.

“― Oh, my God! You had to bring your twin brother along to come on a date? You’re pathetic!” Her hand pulls away from Karamatsu’s. “Oh, you’re definitely coming out with me and my friends.”

Totty hisses and pushes her hand away from Karamatsu’s. He steps in front of his big brother to physically block this woman from him. “Keep your hands off him! You’re not taking him anywhere. He’s never seeing you again, because you treated him like… like, fuck, I wouldn’t treat a rock the way you treated him!”

He hears Karamatsu make a noise of almost-protest behind him; he can just imagine the other man sinking down in his seat and trying to hide his face. “Totty, please…”

“No! No, she doesn’t get to just treat you like dirt, Karamatsu-nii-san! You think my brother’s just some kind of dumbass you can show off to your friends and laugh at and treat him like crap?!” he snarls. “Well, guess what? He may be sort of a dumbass sometimes, and maybe he’s a little painful, and maybe he’s not the perfect guy you’re looking for! But he’s a whole hell of a better person than you are!”

Although Totty could kick himself for not saying anything to Karamatsu before, it might be best it’s coming out now. He doesn’t have a lot of time to really think about it or pretend or rehearse. What he’s saying isn’t practiced, it’s real. “Karamatsu is the kindest person I know, and you wish you had at least half the passion he does for the things he likes! Who cares that he wears a shirt with his own face on it? He was bending over backwards to make you happy, even though everything out of your mouth was word barf about how embarrassing he is! And, by the way, you’re wrong!”

It only takes half a step for him to reach over to grab his coffee from the counter, assisted by Aida who’s smirking as she holds it out for him. “If my choice was between you or him, I’d be way less embarrassed to be seen in public with him than with you! He’s not perfect, but he cares about people, and he’s always there when you need him, and ― and all this stuff you think is embarrassing, who the hell gives a shit?! It’s what he wants to do and it’s not hurting anyone! I’d break my phone before I let my big brother go out with someone like you again! Maybe he keeps striking out with dates, but he’s never going to be that desperate!”

He feels a little bad about what he’s about to do. That feeling is mitigated by the fact that at least his coffee isn’t hot.

“And, you know, I actually am sorry about messing up your drink last time. So here, you can have mine!” Almost before he’s finished speaking, he’s dumped his entire cup over her head.

He doesn’t stick around to deal with the aftermath aside from seeing the look of abject horror on the woman’s face as the coffee makes her bad mascara drip. And even though there’s a little bit of guilt over the fact that he’s leaving his coworkers to deal with her, the fact that Sacchi and Aida are cackling while they gather up napkins eases his mind.

He grabs Karamatsu by the hand and leads him out, tossing his coffee cup on the way. There’s not much choice on Karamatsu’s part, except he doesn’t particularly look as if he minds that.

“You didn’t… have to do that, Totty,” Karamatsu mumbles. When Totty glances over, the second eldest looks more tired than anything. He knows that look; the exhaustion of something not working out, of thinking you had a chance only for it to all go up in smoke.

Totty huffs, marching the two of them in the direction that leads back home. “Of course I did! You weren’t going to do it, so someone had to. God… you’ve gotta stop letting people walk all over you, Karamatsu-nii-chan.”

The shift to the more affectionate honorific suggests to Karamatsu that this is really, truly something Totty cares about. He squeezes his baby brother’s hand with a thoughtful hum. “… If that’s the case, perhaps a romance for me just isn’t in the cards. I… really thought it was going to go somewhere this time.”

At last Totty slows slightly, from an aggressive pace to something a little calmer. He’s still pissed off that someone treated Karamatsu like that, and although he’s a bit upset that Karamatsu sit there and let it happen, he knows what it’s like to want people to like you so much that you’ll put up with nearly anything.

However, that’s also the reason he doesn’t want Karamatsu just putting up with it. He deserves so much better than to have people treat him like dirt. It’s not right to do that to anybody, but… especially not to Totty’s big brother.

“I’m sorry I kind of… tapped into Murder Totty in there,” he sighs. “Did I go overboard?”

Karamatsu shrugs. “Maybe a little. But I wasn’t truly enjoying myself and I didn’t want to go on another date with her. I just… didn’t know how to tell her no. I suppose I really am lucky you were there, too.”

Silence falls between them while they walk, then after a moment, Karamatsu clears his throat. “Totty… did you… mean all those things?”

“Huh? All what things?”

“Those things, you know… you said I was… kind and passionate and reliable.” He lets out a soft laugh. “You… you said you’d rather break your phone than let me go out with her again.”

… Oh. He. Did say that, didn’t he?

He pouts a bit, then squeezes Karamatsu’s hand. “Yeah, I meant it. Of course I meant it.”

Beat.

“But as much as I love you, I’m just glad I don’t have to do that.”