#but this man (nation) needs an actual middle name

[despairgal2312]

What do you think America’s middle name is?

I’m curious since I’ve seen people give him the most random names, from Alfred Fucking Jones to names that are actually plausible like Alfred Franklin Jones.

So, if you want, let me know what does the F. stand for in your opinion

[ducklingpia]

⋆˙⟡ Lads K-pop boy band HCs ⋆˙⟡

I couldn’t stop thinking about Lads boys in their K-pop ERA after seeing their chibi performance so here it is. I’m brain-rotting I need to get this out I'm sorry if it’s too silly 🧍🏻‍♂️

── .✦ Xavier

Position: Oldest hyung/ Main visual/ lead vocals

He will be the first member to get introduced

The internet WENT CRAZY after that

Has a nickname “Nation’s first love”

Everyone assumed he’s the maknae because of his baby face and cute image. He always looks so cute without trying.

Is actually the oldest

Usually has really calm personality. Doesn’t talk much but becomes the most chaotic duo when paired with Rafayel.

Zayne has to keep his eyes out for these two every time they are near each other.

Master of ‘aegyo’ can do the cringiest aegyo with absolutely no shame.

In terms of skills, he got a very soft- mellow singing voice. I think he will be the type to do well at what he was told to do. Can sing pretty high note. His dancing is also really good. He usually slays if he had enough practice. But can’t really do free style.

Mostly just being chill on stages. He doesn’t really give it his 100% if it’s not his part. Sometimes he will slack off a little bit when he’s in the back (Caleb is NOT happy about it)

Lowkey a musical genius, Got credits in 85% of the songs.

I think this is where his passion lies. He composes most of the songs for the group.

Xavier is the composer& producer while Rafayel& Sylus will be in charge of the lyrics.

The first one to go on collaboration.

Like one day some big name solo singer will release a song and it’s - Prod. Xavier ???? 😭

And that song will blow-up bc it’s catchy as hell?? 😭😭

Everyone were confused

All the members were confused

Also lowkey a social butterfly.

Has the most friends outside the group and also senior friends in the industry.

One time the group were on variety show with the most famous host and he was like “Yo Xavier, did you eat the pears my mom gave to you yet?” and all the members were like “Huh??”

Apparently he and Xavier went out for a drink 3 days ago??

“But you told me you were busy when I ask you to go drink with me that day?” – probably Sylus lol 💀

I think he will go on the production route after the group disbanded. Will become the most respectable producer in the industry and keep a low-profile. He will produces hits after hits for other singers.

── .✦ Zayne

Position: Leader/ Sub-Vocals / Lead Dancer

I think everyone can agreed that he will be the perfect leader of the group

Gives off Dad energy in the group despite being the middle child.

Got Street-casting due to his handsomeness. The staff had to run after him and insists he comes to audition the next day.

Went a bit viral in his trainee days while he’s outside the building. He secretly got photographed and everybody were wonder who’s this super handsome boy was.

So he already has fans even before debut.

I think he will have a pretty low-baritone voice when singing. His singing skills are decent but doesn’t really stand out when first debut. But he will improves significantly later down the line and takes Xavier’s lead vocal spot.

His dance moves are really sharp and clean but sometimes can be a little bit stiff. Doesn’t do much facial expression during performance.

He made it up with his INSANE face card tho

The Unofficial visual. His face card and auras always served.

I HC that him and Caleb will spend their time practice choreographs together a lot and became really close.

Taking good care of everyone, He’s the main cook in the dorm.

Manager’s favorite boy, Also all the staffs love him

The only member who can wakes Xavier up and get him out of bed on time (Xavier is terrified of him but will never admit it)

Has a soft spot for Rafayel. Constantly checking after him and make sure that man doesn’t injured himself doing something silly during promotions

Him and Rafayel ended up having the biggest shippers in the fandom

Half of the female idols have a crush on him.

The first one who got into acting career. He got the male-lead role in a classic romance drama plot and absolutely ATE. Became a new star phenomenon.

Constantly winning ‘The actor you wanted to introduce to your parent on this holiday’ poll

Has perfect chemistry with every co-stars he works with. The video clips about how he treats his female lead like a gentlemen always went viral.

Will have a successful acting career after the group disbanded.

── .✦ Rafayel

Position: Maknae / Main Vocals / lead dancer / Center / Ace of the group

I HC him to be that all- rounder member who can do everything and slayed it all.

A golden maknae. Naturally talented in everything he puts his mind to, Fast learner, only takes him 1-2 times to remember choreographs or lyrics. (kinda like JJK from BTS)

Really passionate member but get bored easily. He will learn new talent skill in every comeback and moves to the new one.

Extremely charming and charismatic while performing. No matter who your bias is, your eyes will always drip to him on stages

Has THE MOST angelic voice. Singing is like breathing for him. Can sing a really, really, really high note.

His voice is also really unique, you can recognize his voice immediately in every songs he’s in.

His dancing skills are excellent too, his movements are really elegant and fluid. Can do free style no problem but sometimes he will unintentionally tweaks the movement and became out of sync with the rest of the team

REFUSED to call Caleb ‘Hyung’

Always insist that Caleb is also the maknae too lol

These two are always bickering or play fighting in the background in every behind the scene videos

HATES doing aegyo but it’s his duty for the Maknae. Easily get embarrassed by it but always trying his best (All the fans think he’s very good at it)

He got the most Anti fans in the group

Like this man will get hate comments in every corners of the internet?

He’s not bothered by it in the slightest tho

And due to that reason he also got the most overprotective& loyal fan base

Most likely be the first member to have a solo career

Everyone thought he will comes out with dance- poppy album but he releases a full on slow-indie sounds???

Surprisingly the album is so chill and easy to listen to plus his insane vocals the album ended up topping no.1 on several charts

I think he will continued his solo career after disbanded and appears as a mentor/ judge in several survival shows.

He will becomes a really good mentor, although he can be a bit scary and cut- throat in his comment sometimes.

── .✦ Sylus

Position: Main Rapper

The second oldest after Xavier, but everyone thought he’s the oldest at first

Kinda broke the internet when he get introduced too.

Has that uncle energy in the group. Always in the background supporting the maknae-line when they’re about to get into trouble.

Has the most male fans

Also has the most Solo stans

Doesn’t do much in the performance. Both his singing and dancing skills are below other members but ALWAYS serves face.

Also HIS VOICE.

Has the opening line in the song when he would say some words and everyone will be like ‘oh my god’ (it’s kinda like that felix guy from Straykids)

70% of his rapping skills came from his voice. He does improves a lot overtime tho

Start writing his own verses in the song due to Xavier encouragement and developed a song-writing talent.

Opposite from Zayne, Half of the male idols have a crush on him.

Surprisingly really good at variety shows.

Every time the group were on red carpet event. He will be in the headline on every reports the next day bc of his insane face card.

Win that “most handsome man in the world” poll every years

Him and Rafayel are the English speakers of the group when promote overseas

Has the BIGGEST international fan base. Goes viral every time the group went overseas

He will dip his toes into acting career a little. Mostly playing the 2nd male-lead or the villain.

One time he play the villain in this movie, they went on promotional activities and everybody is shipping the female- lead with him instead of the male lead?? 💀

He just has this chemistry & sexual tension with everything including the wall pls 👏🏻

The first member who got a brand-deal with this big fashion house, also ended up walking the runway (I’m thinking Prada)

Randomly dropped his solo mixed-tape one day and the fandom went WILD

I think his mix-tape will not be as commercially successful as other members bc it’s not the easiest to listen to, but it will later became a cult classic and got critically acclaimed.  

── .✦ Caleb

Position: Main Dancer/ Sub vocals

I HC that this man is born to be a dancer

Probably learned how to dance since like 4

Staged kid. Perform on stage since he can remembered.

Got discovered by the casting staff when he performs at some random festival.

Has the least lines first debut but always got the solo break dance or center part in the performance

Joined the group really young, probably at the same time as Rafayel

He was the smallest in the group at the time up until like 15

Then on one summer when he turns 16 he went from 5’7 to like 6 fts ??? 😭

Rafayel is pissed

He continued to grow and became the tallest member … yeah, the giant maknae

Doesn’t really has much fans like other members when first debut.

But on the 2nd comeback, he has a bit of glow-up and the concept fits him SO WELL. Everybody agreed he owned that era. they gains a lot of new fans from that comeback bc of him.

Has A LOT of Noo-na fans

He used to follow Zayne around everywhere when he was younger. So Zayne still sees him as that lil brother despite him being so big now.

Became insufferable when playing games especially when paired with Rafayel, These 2 get competitive af.

Get along well with every members but prefer to hang around either Zayne or Xavier the most.

Pretty awkward with Sylus at first, but they became gym buddies as times went on

Easy- going boy most of the time but became really scary when practicing. He will catches even the most subtle slacking from the members through the wall mirror.

Will got quiet and silently staring at that member with the most cold-heart eyes.

I think he will developed a passion for teaching and coaching, probably open his own dance studio and work behind the scenes like Xavier after disbanded

That’s all I have babygirls 🫦 . Please give me your own Headcanons if you have any 🙏 waiting for somebody to brain rot together!! 👀

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

🌸Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

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"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

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He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

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He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

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"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

the monster trio (but make it highschool!au);

basically, what if these mf weren't illiterate?? highschool!au headcanons for the monster trio!!

m.list

luffy:

- the class comedian (and doesn't know it) - like this man is out here just going about his day, doing stupid shit. he doesn't know why the class is laughing when the teacher asks him what he's doing and he says "eating. want some?" through a mouthful of doritos and a shit-eating grin - everyday, atleast once, he gets sent to the principle (the principle is garp lmao) and garp sends luffy back to the teacher because even he doesn't wanna deal with this precious himbo

- he runs track (and he is actually so good at it) - he's that one kid that has adhd and the whole school knows but he doesnt "adhd? what's that?" "you, luffy, that's you" - his homework? never complete; his handwriting? so shit it feels like ants crawling on paper; his uniform? something has to be missing always whether it's a button on his shirt, tie, belt, something. - one time he pulled up with one sock missing and when asked, he shrugged and said "sometimes things happen" - why did he say it like that??? - somehow, despite it all, he manages to pass (nami tutored him forcefully and made him pay her later) - best friends with the martial artist!zoro and cooking prodigy!sanji - nobody knows how these three are friends??? but they are ig - also, i headcannon him as the guy who is like 4 feet and after one summer comes back stretched out (hehe, pun intended) - always so kind to others even if he doesn't know them, always willing to help freshmen out and run errands for you if you need help - nobody knew he is related to his older brothers (ace, sabo) "how are you their brother??" "idk? how am i??" - just the bestest boy ever, golden retriever energy all day every day no matter what universe it is

zoro:

- you take one look at this mf and you think, ah here is the classic delinquent, stick-up-his-ass martial artist and you couldnt be more wrong - he is never dressed right but that's cause he doesn't know how to tie a tie and listen if he had the willpower to find the right socks at 7 in the morning, he will - he is just an incompetent fool, trust me 😭😭 - gets late on the regular cause he always takes the wrong turn - the one "jock" who isn't anything like a stereotypical jock? like he hangs out with soon-to-be valedictorian nami, idiot luffy, theatre kid!ussop and cook!sanji - nobody can understand how this friend group was formed??? - actually gets asked out a decent amount of times and always says "nah, im good" and walks away to his friends - people are starting to suspect if he's dating luffy from how hard their bromance is going "zolo!!! gooDMORNING!!" luffy yells as he launches onto zoro in the middle of the hallway at 8:03 am on a random tuesday zoro casually drops his backpack to catch luffy "morning" zoro replies as if it's casual behaviour - the amount of trophies the school has in his name is insane (nation level martial artist, roronoa zoro) - he is actually decent at school, he is just average and he's fine by it he doesn't give all that much of a shit in the academic sphere - casually pulls up to the parents-teacher meet with thE FUCKING WORLD REKNOWNED MARTIAL ARTIST, DRACULE MIHAWK??? "i see he passed in all his exams. how wonderful, zoro. let's leave now." "aight" - he doesn't even think twice when asked if he knows mihawk, he's just like "yeah that's my dad what about him?" - a certified dumbass in every universe

sanji:

- listen to me this mf went to masterchef junior and fucking won and people only know this cause the school hyped him up and not because he wanted people to know "omg sanji did you actually win-" "no that was my twin brother sanjo, please leave me alone" - actually prim and properly dressed, shows up at time everyday and gives in all of his assignments and submissions well before the due date (he is partially responsible for keeping zoro and luffy on track) - he was the one making cupcakes when nami was organizing a fundraiser for a nearby orphanage, he was the one who baked cookies cause sabo wanted to hand them out on his last day of school, he was the one who baked cakes for his classmate's surprise birthday party - rumor has it if you get on good terms with sanji, a mysterious box of homemade chocolate will be there in your locker the next day - despite all the hype he has, mf still gets no girls - like luffy, he is insanely kind to those who need help - has gotten almost suspended once for beating up a senior year kid for bullying a freshmen (luffy and zoro just stood by and laughed as that kid got his ass handed to him) - he is the son of THE FUCKING OWNER OF BARATIE, A FIVE STAR MICHELLIN RESTAURANT THAT IS FREQUENTED BY CELEBRITIES ALL THE TIME "omg omg sanji is it true that the rock visited your restaurant last night?!" "yeah, his daughter wanted to eat my tiramisu, she's really sweet" - so chill always (but simultaneously losing his shit) - the kinda person you'd love hanging out with - as i said, in any universe, he is still single (feed him the rizz rizz fruit pls)

a/n: tried something new tell me do you like it or love it? m.list

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 4

table of contents

we know the steps anyway

Jamie might have stretched the truth. He has an appointment, yes, but not a medical one, like. There’s enough doctors and shit on staff at Richmond. But no one there has fucking critical thinking or whatever, so he’s able to go early. He goes to the shops and doesn’t pray he remembers what you like, instead he prays that it hasn’t changed.

He gets recognized but he hopes the flowers in his hand don’t signal anything to the fans. If anyone asks he can just say they’re for his mum or something, it’s not totally fucking unrealistic, but his lying’s gotten progressively worse recently. Probably because he’s out of practice, but he doesn’t actually want to get back in practice, if you know what he means.

He also prays that your address is the same. You loved that house and he’d be surprised if you moved but it’s almost a year since he last saw you and much longer than that since you were actually together.

Maybe he should have become Catholic so he could say a proper Hail Mary. But he isn’t one, so instead he just hopes harder than he has in a while and knocks on the door. The doorbell’s taped off with a note that says, baby sleeping so he thinks he probably has the right house after all 

He hears footsteps, has the quickest panic attack known to man, then the door opens to reveal you.

Jamie has never wanted to make a baby more than this moment, if he’s being honest. He can tell you’re in the middle of work but the way it takes a split second too long to figure out what’s happening and the pen behind your ear. You look the same, but assured and he knows it’s because you don’t need him. He wants to unbutton your shirt and also tell you that he loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone in his whole entire life and he knows he’s a fucking idiot but his thoughts have never been good at finding their way to his mouth so instead he just says, “Hey,” and pulls the flowers from behind his back.

Jamie doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen in what he can only construe as fear at the sight of him. It subsides into wariness when he hands you the flowers, but he doesn’t like that the fear was there in the first place. He understands you want to be cautious, but fear?

That’s not good at all.

So he telegraphs all his movements as best he can. Shoulders down, hands at his sides and unclenched. He takes half a step back but asks, “Can we talk?” and watches you play a million outcomes in your head at once.

You don’t want to let him in, but Clare’s asleep in the living room. And the flowers are an indicator that he’s here for some positive reason so you step aside and say, “You can come to the kitchen.”

Jamie knows he’s on thin ice so he barely looks any other direction than straight to where you direct him. He doesn’t sit. He stands in the middle of the kitchen and awkwardly holds the flowers before you take them from him and set them on the counter. He opens his mouth to say something (he’s not quite sure what yet) and is saved by the baby crying in the other room. 

The baby. 

You sigh and go to get her and he scans the room as best he can for any indicator as to her name. He doesn’t see anything but photos stuck to the fridge. You come back into the room before he can move to look closer. 

“Her name’s Clare,” you say offhandedly. “You’re not on the birth certificate. You’ve always said you didn’t want to have kids, and I’m pretty fucking sure you wouldn’t want them with me. And-” you pause. Clare’s awake and staring right at your face. She really does look like Jamie.

“And,” you continue, “I didn’t really want you to come back just to fuck off again. Clare doesn’t deserve that. And you’ve been acting like a right fucking idiot all over national television, so.”

Jamie nods. “Makes sense.” 

You wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t, just looks so uncharacteristically lost that you sigh.

“You’re not here about custody, are you,” you. Jamie’s eyes widen.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s what you thought this was about? I’m not- I wouldn’t- I’ve been to going therapy.”

You raise an eyebrow. That’s new. Maybe that’s what fucking Keeley Jones meant about decent. But he’s not getting off so fucking easy, if at all. 

“So what, you go to therapy a couple times and now you’re fixed? And you want a family? Or to apologize? You haven’t made it entirely clear why you’re here.”

Jamie says, “I’m here because I miss you,” and you scoff. 

“No- shit, I mean- I’ve missed you for a long fucking time but my texts weren’t going through, so I figured you blocked me. And Madeline is fucking terrifying, babe. But I was looking for you the other night because I wanted to apologize. And see if you wanted to get back together,” he says, and you’re not entirely sure how to react.

“Right,” you say, “well, that’s not fucking happening. You dumped me after a year, called me a two in the morning five months later, so yes, I blocked you. And you should be fucking scared of Madeline because I had to forcibly restrain her from ruining your goddamn life despite the fact that I actually wanted her to go completely apeshit. I have more important things than some twenty-six year old footballer who’s only just now getting his life together when I’ve had it together since I was eight. I have a job and a baby, and I’m handling both in the house that I’ve owned since I was twenty-two because like I said before, Jamie Tartt, I’ve had my life together since I was fucking eight years old. I had the same damn childhood as you and yet I’m not the one who has only recently learned what the fuck empathy is.”

Your rant upsets Clare, who begins crying. “Shit,” you sigh. “I’m sorry, Bean. You hungry?” You glance at Jamie. “I’m going to sit on the couch.”

“Right. Yeah,” says Jamie as he follows you to the next room. He sits gingerly on the couch across from you and you sigh again. He’s relatively harmless, and you’re well-versed in what he looks like when he’s up to no good. You pat the spot next to you and he sits, still carefully, while you adjust Clare. It isn’t until you sit down that you realize how fucking tired you are.

“She’s so fucking small,” Jamie whispers. “How the fuck do you ever get anything done? I’d just be looking at her.”

You laugh, but it’s short and brittle. “Things need to get done Jamie. She’s hungry, she needs to be changed, I have work to do and I’ve got to eat, but I’m sick of ordering in so I try to meal prep as much as I can but I don’t ever sleep and I’m afraid of burning the house down, so most of the time I eat frozen dinners at four a.m. because she’s awake.” Jamie doesn’t say anything, just listens. He’s inched closer or maybe you have or maybe both, because your thighs are touching and it sends the same shivers up your leg that it did two years ago. “I’m tired all the time,” you whisper. “It’s like my bones are tired. I think Madeline’s the only one who has any idea what it’s like and she can only help so much. Besides, she’s it’s her last night in fucking Milan and I’m not about to be that mum friend who’s constantly making everything about her baby. It’s just so much work, Jamie. You have no idea.”

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t but Madeline isn’t here and what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, so you rest your head on Jamie’s shoulder.

He freezes for a moment before tilting his face to touch the top of your head.

And you’re furious. It should have been like this before and as soon as it’s over your going to wish that it were like this more often. It’s a fantasy.

But you’ll indulge a little while longer before seriously considering moving somewhere else. Probably Chelsea if you’re being honest; it’s not too far away but it’ll give you the space you need to remind yourself that Jamie isn’t for you. He’s for someone else, someone like Keeley.

And anyway as soon as you want to let Madeline find you a man, you know you’ll have no shortage of options.

It’s not about that, though. It’s about the fact that you’ve been on your backup plan ever since Jamie left and you’d give anything to feel like you’re in control again.

Jamie murmurs, “I want to help,” and you shake your head slightly. 

“Don’t need money, my darling. I need someone to change her diaper at one in the morning.”

“That’s what I mean,” Jamie says and you chuckle.

“And when do you have time for that?” you ask. “Don’t you footballers have a strict sleep schedule? And you’d have to be here in the guest room because there’s no way I’m taking Clare to yours.”

Jamie shrugs and you sit up. “Don’t take this the wrong way love, but plenty of footballers ignore their sleep plan to fuck around. It’s got to be healthier and shit to take care of a kid, yeah?”

“No,” you say. “You can’t just show up and slip back into my life like that. I haven’t talked to you in almost a year and now you’re here on my couch, which is fine, but you can’t just come all the way back.”

Jamie frowns. “So what do I have to do?”

You shake your head. “That’s something for you to figure out without me.”

—

Jamie replays the whole thing from the time he gets back into his car to go home to the time he falls asleep. And then starts again when he wakes up and heads to the Dogtrack. The only person who looks at him twice is Higgins, although that may be more to Jamie’s choice of lime green sweatpants than his mental state.

He can’t get Clare’s face out of his head. He can’t get the feeling of your body on the couch next to him out of his system.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted when he returned to Richmond, he just knew he wanted something different. Maybe this is it.  

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he knocks completely into Roy on his way to get his lunch.

“Fucking watch where you’re fucking going,” Roy grunts but Jamie barely acknowledges him.  

And that’s how Roy knows something is wrong because the little shit is never one to back down from an argument. But he’s Roy fucking Kent and the last thing he’s going to do is ask Tartt about his fucking feelings so he just walks away and forgets about it.

In hindsight, he thinks it probably would have provided some fucking context to what he’s seeing in front of him. 

A very apologetic Keeley Jones hangs on his arm while he watches some short brunette march into the locker room as if she owns it, grab Jamie by the ear, and start swearing at him.

No one seems to know what to do, probably in too much shock to stop Madeline from dragging Jamie (still by his ear) out of the room and presumably to the car park. 

Roy catches Beard’s eye, entirely by accident, who shrugs. Ted claps his hands and says something to the effect of, “Everyone’s made poor decisions when it comes to women, Sam go check on Jamie,” before following Roy and Beard to the coaches’ office. As soon as the door is firmly shut, Ted says, “What in the Sam Hill was that? I know Jamie’s ruffled a few feathers in his time, but I’ve never seen anything like that before, no sir.”

Everyone looks expectantly at Keeley. After all, she was the one chasing Madeline’s heels as she shouted, “God DAMN it Tartt, I’m going to fucking kill you!!” down the hall.

“Well you see,” Keeley begins, voice mousy, “I was in Milan where I met Madeline. We were chatting and we both found out we knew Jamie. And she’s friends with this girl who lives here in Richmond, and it turns out she and Jamie dated right before he was with me. I don’t know what he did but he did something awful while we were away because she got a text, said, “Fucking Tartt,” and then stepped out to take a phone call. She came straight here from the airport; I think her taxi’s still outside, actually.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m just surprised Jamie’s fucked something up again. He’s been doing so well recently.”

“Jamie has a kid,” Beard says like he can’t hold it in any more. He’s met with shocked silence until Ted says, “Well I’ll be. Jamie Tartt’s got a little tartlet,” and then everyone’s talking at once. Mainly, how does Beard know and what does that have to do with his arse getting hauled to the car park?

Ted’s just thankful this debacle happened at the end of the day, because the team can’t afford to miss any training with the Aston Villa game coming up. There’s a knock on the door, and Ted opens it to reveal Sam. 

“Jamie is going home with that angry young woman,” he says. 

Ted asks, “Should we be concerned?” and Sam shrugs. 

“He did not seem as though he needed rescuing,” he replies, and that makes sense. From what anyone could tell, it almost seemed as though Jamie felt like he deserved whatever Madeline was saying to him. As if he expected it. But no one has any more answers so they all just sort of disperse to their various homes. 

Keeley though, Keeley is so fucking curious she thinks she might explode. So as soon as she’s at Roy’s and seated on his sofa she opens her laptop and scrolls through Madeline’s entire fucking instagram to look for clues. It’s hard, what with all the brand deals and photo dumps, but Keeley’s a professional. She has a list of girls who occur in multiple photos throughout the years, checks off their socials, but comes up empty. 

Well, almost empty.

Half of Madeline’s friends are private, so those are Keeley’s top suspects, but there’s one friend whose photos switch from being full length to shoulders-up only about nine months ago. And there’s a selfie of Madeline in a hospital bed with this same friend buried in a photo dump from two and a half months ago with the caption, “she lived, bitch.” It’s focused on their faces and nothing else, but Keeley’s one hundred percent positive this is the girl.

Keeley spends the rest of the night on her computer scouring the internet for as much as she can possibly learn while Roy makes her tea and reads next to her.

next chapter

[cam3lliaw]

Catching the eye of a prince

Chapter 1

-crownprince!gojo x maid!reader

contents/ warnings: (some are mentioned in the prologue), might be ooc,

word count: 1.8k words

series masterlist

the prologue here

notes: sorry for the long wait :) i hope you like it

“His Royal Highness was looking for you, my lord.”

If only Suguru had a coin for every time he heard that exact sentence in the past 20 minutes. The walk from the gardens to the crown prince’s chambers shouldn’t have taken more than 8 minutes, a few more if the staircase was in the middle of being moped but that only happens really early in the morning and really late at night, and at this moment it was neither of them. At least 12 servants that were doing their jobs stopped Suguru on the way to his office, letting him know that the crown prince was looking around for him not long ago. Sighing, the dark haired man decided to go to the prince’s chambers and see what he wanted.

Upon reaching the door, and not hearing any noise from inside, Suguru thought that the prince might still be out and about, and he entered without knocking.

Turns out that not only the prince was inside, but he was pouting as well as he was sitting on the window sill.

“What’s with the pout, Satoru? Missed me too much?” Suguru smirked as he approached him and took a seat on the other side of the sill.

“As if.” Satoru scoffed. “I’m just…deep in thought.”

“Oh, that’s certainly new. Weren’t you the smartest in this palace? That’s clearly what you boasted about around the place, last week. But don’t forget Satoru-“ Suguru came closer and put his hand on the prince’s shoulder “it’s more than okay to ask for help sometimes, it’s a proof of your maturity actually-”

Satoru slapped the hand away before Suguru had the chance to continue talking.

“Ouch.” the dark haired man faked a pained expression. “Seems like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“It’s your fault I’m like this in the first place.”

“My fault?? How is this my fault?” Suguru asked, genuinely confused.

“Who’s that girl from earlier?” the prince went right to the point.

“What girl?”

“Don’t act dumb, Suguru. You know who I’m talking about.”

The lord sighed “On the way here I was stopped by multiple servants, most of them being girls, telling me about the fact that you were looking for me, so I’m afraid you'll have to give me a bit more than just the fact that she was a girl, then maybe, I will know who you are talking about.”

“The girl from the garden! The one that was hanging the laundry. The one that you seemed awfully close to. Is this enough information for you?” Satoru inquired bitterly.

A smile stretched on Suguru’s face. “Ah, I see now. What about her?”

“Huh? What’s the deal with her? I never saw you that close with a girl, much less a servant.” Satoru remarked annoyed.

“What, you jealous? Don’t worry, Satoru. She won’t steal me from you. You’ll always be my one and only-“

The crown prince narrowed his eyes, interrupting his bestfriend again, with no shame whatsoever. “Jealous my ass. It’s pure curiosity. I’ve tried to make you talk with girls from the court or from foreign nations, for years, yet you never even glance towards them a second time. Yet, this maid seemed to have your attention without breaking a sweat.”

A short laugh escaped Suguru’s lips. “If you’re insinuating what I think you are, you can stop right there. Me and [name] are just good friends, nothing happened between us and nothing will ever happen.”

“Then what is it about her? I’ve seen her from afar but she doesn’t seem that big of a deal.”

“You have a bad habit of judging people based on their appearances, you know that’s not something a future good leader must do, right?”

Satoru’s face flushed ashamed.

“Of course I know that. And it’s not exactly judging-“

“It is.”

Satoru groaned. “Fine, I’ll chose my words more…carefully next time. But seriously what’s the deal with her?”

“She’s just a good friend and a nice company when I need to take breaks from your chaos.”

“Rude.”

“You’ll live.” Suguru smiled.

“So when do I get to meet her?”

“You won’t.” Suguru answered without thinking twice.

“And why is that?” Satoru inquired a bit offended.

“The last thing she needs, or would want for that matter, is to be center of attention, or even worse, to be roped into any of your schemes.”

“You make me sound like a villain of some sort.” The crown prince scoffed.

“From certain points of view you might be, yes.” The duke challenged.

“Hmph. Why does it seem like sometimes you forget that you’re talking with the crown prince?”

“Come on, Satoru, if everyone acted respectfully towards you or if they let you think you’re right all the time, you would become spoiled, or like, even more spoiled than you already are.”

Satoru hummed acknowledging what Suguru just said, but he seemed distracted for a moment, it seemed like he’s deep in thought again.

“What are you thinking about now?” asked Suguru as his eyes narrowed.

“What if…you don’t directly tell me how to meet her...but you give me a hint on how to find her. I mean, in that case it’s only a…50% chance I would actually find her. What about this?”

“Since I have a feeling you won’t drop this anytime soon, why not.”

The prince smiled victorious and waited for Suguru to think of something. A few minutes later, Suguru started chuckling.

“I got one.”

“Okay. Go on.” The prince nodded.

“You might find her...if you fall asleep in a meadow.”

“And?” Satoru waited for his friend to continue but he shook his head.

“That’s all.”

“What? How am I supposed to find her based on that?”

“Sounds like a you problem if you ask me.” Suguru added.

“Fine. But sooner or later, I will find her and I will see for myself if she’s such a nice person as you claim she is.”

A few days later the crown prince started getting annoyed. At first, he thought he can cheat and find you at the place where he saw you first, but over the next few days since the talk with Suguru, there were other maids working out there. Then, he thought he might just ask a random maid about you when he sees one, but then he quickly realized that was dumb, because there were thousands of maids working in the palace, some never see each other much less know each other’s names.

In every free moment that the prince had, his mind would wonder to Suguru’s hint.

“You might find her if you fall asleep in a meadow.”

One more thing that Satoru thought about, but didn’t have time for until the weekend, was going for a walk in the gardens hoping that he might spot you around there.

The gardens are like some sort of meadow, right?

Maybe you were assigned gardening work sometimes, it wouldn’t really make sense since the palace hired a lot of gardeners especially for taking care of the entire area, but what does he know about this kind of stuff really.

Satoru spent his entire weekend taking walks while scouting the entire area for you, hoping he’d at least see you once while passing, but he didn’t. However, he seemed to meet someone else in the gardens instead.

“I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve seen you spending so much time in the royal gardens since we were kids.” Shoko laughed as she gestured the bench she was sitting on, signaling the prince to take a seat.

“It’s not by choice unfortunately.” Satoru sighed as he sat down.

“I thought you were only doing the things that you wanted, something about being royalty and never having to listen to anyone.” The duchess laughed.

“You and Suguru seem to find pleasure in criticizing the things I say lately.”

“Well, if two people say the same things, without talking beforehand about it, that might mean they’re right.” Shoko smiled.

“What brings you here? Studying plants for your medicine exams?”

“Yes. It’s nice to study outside from time to time, the library is sometimes parched with people, so the best options to not be bothered by noise is either to read somewhere else or to read at night when there’s barely any people left.” Satoru nodded as Shoko finished explaining “What about you? What brings you out here?”

“A stupid riddle.”

Shoko giggled. “I thought you liked riddles…but I don’t think it’s just a normal riddle, am I right?”

“If I guess then I can find someone, but Suguru has been too vague.”

“Suguru is the one who riddled you? This has suddenly got even more interesting, who do you have to find?”

“A maid, [name], I think that's how Suguru called her. I caught her and Suguru once chatting and they seemed very close. But Suguru won't let me meet her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have let you either. [name] is a really nice girl, you would just get her in trouble.”

“You know her, too?” Satoru exclaimed surprised.

“I do. We don’t see each other often, and maybe we’re not as good friends as she is with Suguru, but she’s a good and smart person.”

“Then…do you think you can help me? With the riddle? Suguru said that I might find her if I fall asleep in a meadow, but as much as I hate to admit it, this is harder than I anticipated. I searched everywhere in the royal gardens and I came up with nothing. And there are no meadows close to the palace either, well as far as I’m aware anyway, but I know the surroundings almost like the back of my hand.”

Shoko burst out laughing. “That is so easy. You overcomplicated yourself so bad.” she continued “Satoru, do you remember our favorite activity in the rainy days? What me, you and Suguru would do every time we weren’t at the palace together?”

“We would send letters.” Satoru responded quickly.

“You need more than that. What would we talk about in said letters?”

“Hmm…we talked about a lot of stuff but I guess we talked the most about the books we read.”

“You’re getting there. What was the one book you would not stop comparing all the others about?”

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?”

“And what happens at the beginning of the book, Satoru? Where is Alice and what does she do?”

It took him less than a second to finally realise.

“She falls asleep-“ Satoru’s eyes widened “in a meadow!”

“There you go.”

“The library…how did I not realise before, you and Suguru wouldn’t shut up about how she’s smart. I should’ve seen it.”

“Well, its better late than never.” Shoko commented.

The prince got up quick but he remembered what his friends said. “She doesn’t like to be the center of attention” Suguru told him. And Shoko mentioned that the only moment the library is not full is at night…

“Thank you, Shoko. I owe you one.” Satoru smiled as he started walking away.

Seems like he has plans tonight.

taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur

end notes: thank you for reading :)

[honey-decadence]

Ignite (Haikyuu!! 2024 Fic Exchange)

"He cried as if he hadn't opened up for years. Actually, that was very likely the case."

CW: gn reader, exes to lovers, emotional reunion, crying, falling for each other again, catch up, nostalgia and reminiscing, teeeensy bit of angst followed up by a happy ending, minor oc (Haruto is reader's younger brother for this story, it's a super common name but nonetheless, any similarities to any real or fictional persons is purely coincidental)

Word Count: 5972

a/n: @szyvrue happy holidays! forgive me for running late but I hope Oikawa made it worth the wait! Thank you for waiting patiently! and thank you @lale-txt for hosting this event!

"I really missed you Y/N chan~" You could hear him sniffling, hugging your torso even tighter. "I never once forgot about you". The man you never stopped loving for years cried gently as those words stumbled out of his mouth.

How you ended up with your old flame in your arms once more with his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his hands rubbing your back, much broader than you last remembered him, was... a bit unexpected.

Thinking back on it, the chances were slim, almost obsolete really. He had made no announcement of returning home on his social media, both private and his professional accounts, he made no comment to his family or friends, minus a few according to him.

And here he was, clinging to you like a lost child, crying tears of joy in the middle of a park with the light from the giant lamp post flickering.

You beat the odds.

Making a pro volleyball player cry on his first night home was not on your list of things to accomplish before the year ended.

- .... . .-. . .----. .-.. .-.. / -... . / -. --- / -. . .-- / .-. --- -- .- -. -.-. . / ..-. --- .-. / -- .

"Let's go Seijoh Let's go!" you shouted enthusiastically. It was only a practice match for nationals, the high school boys needed all the practice they could get before rolling out on the big national stage in Tokyo but you couldn't help but cheer them on.

The game was tense, it was 24 to 23 with the predicted winning team being Aoba Johsai, players of both teams were desperately scrambling around to score that one decisive point.

You came to cheer on your younger brother, Haruto, a setter for the team and a third year. 

After finally being able to get off work early and taking a crowded train to get to a rival school's gym, managing to overcome a mix of bad luck and inconveniences, you finally were able to come watch a game your brother was playing in for the first time today. It was only about 20 minutes away from your old high school but the amount of people you had to slip through at the station made the adventure seem more arduous this evening.

The whistle blew and everyone on the court prepared for the opposing team's serve. Seijoh's defense managed to get the ball up in the air with your little brother following through by setting a perfect arc that no wing spiker could possibly complain about and that's when you noticed... someone.

Oikawa....

but not the one you dated. 

No, this Oikawa was... Takeru? Your eyes blinked a few times before they fixated on the young man, spiking the ball through the opposing team's defense with explosive power. 

Since when did he get this big? How old must he be now? Was he the same age as your brother?

A smile then grew on your face, reminiscing the past and remembering fondly on the times Oikawa Tohru, your then boyfriend, would stop by your house to drop off some snacks and goodies, accompanied by none other than a tiny Takeru chan after his little tikes volleyball practice. He was such a little munchkin then.

You remembered the times Takeru would slip up about something silly his uncle would do, like walking in on Oikawa shaking his butt in front of his bedroom mirror, getting too loud while watching a volleyball match on his computer and his mom yelling at him shortly after, or how lame he was for drooling on his pillow. Typical reportings of a 6 year old.

Of course Oikawa would chastise his nephew for this, clearly embarrassed about his privacy being on blast in front of all people, his partner.

You thought back to the time you and Oikawa were out on a date when Takeru would call Oikawa's number through some relative's phone number to ask if he could play with Oikawa's psp. It was then that Takeru would follow up with "why is it pink?" and that was the first and last time Oikawa would put his nephew on speaker.

Much to Oikawa's exasperation, amongst other questions about this games and hobbies, even if you didn't say anything, you found that trivia about Oikawa to be adorable and wished he'd show you more of the side of him then.

You found the whole thing to be really cute in fact, the way Oikawa would care for his nephew, even when he would be annoyed by Takeru, yelling at him on the phone only to further embarrass himself as the people around you two would turn and stare. 

It made for a good laugh, more for you than for Oikawa but you could see that it made him happy. You got a kick out of him and Takeru's interactions.

Oikawa was a sweetheart then before his insecurities revolving around the sport consumed him for quite some time.

You couldn't remember the exact argument where you had broken things off with him, there were too many where you argued about why he was so obsessed with the sport, some guy from another high school, and how prideful he was about it.

But what you did remember and regret all these years was when you raised your voice at him once, telling him to quit volleyball.

It wasn't necessarily for him to choose between you and the sport but more so that you couldn't understand his obsession, an obsession that both brought him so much joy and pain. 

You couldn't fathom why he compared himself to others in this sport and still complained about not being enough, why he was so fixated on crushing certain players instead of focusing more on his supportive teammates.

For him, it was his life, for you, it was madness. It became too much for you to handle admittedly.

You bit your tongue, remembering those words, how his face changed from that of a charming sweet young man to a defensive and envious monster. 

You still felt conflicted all those years, you had to speak up but ... was it okay for you to say it the way you did? Could you have told him in a much gentler manner? Were you fed up with his frustrations by that point?

Or maybe it was becaus-

The whistle blew for what seemed like too long, deafening to everyone in its vicinity and snapping you out of your trip down memory lane.

The opposing team puffed and heaved with a glum but satisfied look on their faces, the Seijoh boys won the match, their victorious roaring replacing the whistle.

.

.

.

You practically ran outside, hit by the freezing winter winds but forgoing all that to meet up with your brother after his match. Luckily, because of those white tracksuits, it make finding the Seijoh boys a lot easier in the dark evening.

"Haruto!" you shouted, taking extra long strides to reach your little brother. He and his team were waiting for the bus to arrive; waving his hands, your brother welcomed you kindly and of course standing next to him was Takeru.

He seemed smaller on the court, in fact both of the boys did, but now seeing him up close, you realized how much taller he was, almost towering over you and your brother.

"Hey! Long time no see!" Haruto remarked, "Did you escape from hell?"

"Oh shut up, it's already 8pm, isn't it past your bedtime?" you bantered back, earning a few chuckles from Takeru and the other teammates who overheard the interaction.

"Whatever, at least I'm not gonna be stuck in an office for the next 40 years like you!"

Rolling your eyes at your brother's comment, you noticed Takeru, awkwardly caught in self doubt: he looked like he wasn't sure whether to say hello or what but he seemed kinda tense. It's been over a decade, of course he wasn't going to know how he should approach his uncle's ex.

You turned and smiled warmly at Takeru, hoping that the warm gesture would make him relax around you.

"Takeru kun, do you remember me?" you chimed, also worried if he remembered you, internally praying that he did or otherwise this interaction would be getting more awkward real quick. 

The look on his face brightened up, relieved that it wasn't only him who was hit with nostalgia. While trying to maintain his composure, he chirped:

"Of course I do! I remember you came to my uncle's house once and sometimes he'd take me down the long way to my house just to drop off gifts for you."

"Oh you remember that? How funny!"

Your brother popped in, his eyes wide. "You guys met?" He seemed so perplexed by the situation, had Haruto really not remembered your ex?

Before you could respond, Takeru answered him: "My uncle and them dated when they were in high school but then he got dumped".

You had to hold back your laughter, even years later, Takeru was still as blunt as ever it seems. You wonder how often he'd get in trouble for being too honest.

"Haruto do you really not remember me talking to mom about his uncle? I could have sworn you two met once?" even you were puzzled by his shoddy memory. Oikawa had never entered your home but you do remember your younger brother teasing you about him, as per usual children's shenanigans.

He blinked twice, furrowing his brows, trying his best to remember how your ex looked but to no avail.

You sighed, "Forget it, I'll show you a picture of him at the house". You turned back to Takeru, genuinely curious as to what he's been up to all these years. Clearly he must have been inspired by his uncle to pursue volleyball all this time. Takeru probably kept in close contact with him once he went pro, you thought. "How have you been, Takeru? I'm surprised you remember me".

"I've been good! My uncle wasn't the only one who missed you Y/N san, I remember I really liked those checkerboard cookies you made for my uncle one time!" 

"Oh how sweet, you missed my cookies?" You almost wanted to crack up, of all people to run into tonight, you least expected to get along and catch up with your ex's nephew.

Your brother interjected, "I remember Y/N got mad at me once for eating a few of them and threw a wooden spoon at me" he grinned, too proud at his failed attempted robbery.

"Oh dude, my uncle got so pissed at me that I ate all the cookies" Takeru pipes up, his voice getting caught between the bouts of laughter.

Your eyes grew wide, catching that infectious and juvenile energy from Haruto and Takeru as your own voice raised in volume.

"Wait!" you interrupted, "Did Tohr-! Did Oikawa san never eat my cookies?"

The two paused, catching that slip up in your sentence. You stared at them intensely, warning that they shouldn't comment on it, like throwing daggers in their direction. 

"Ahh... Well... no." Takeru bursted out laughing along with Haruto. "He was really mad at me but honestly I thought he had some already! They were sitting there on his desk open and everything.

"Oikawa san told me the cookies were delicious? He really lied to me didn't he?" you half joked.

"Oh probably, he always tried to save face like that." He smirked.

"Takeru shut up already..." a low voice rumbled from the dark winter night, cutting the chit chat with an intense silence, despite the Seijoh team murmuring in the background.

A tall figure appeared from the crowd and stepped into the street light's range, making it clear who he was with every step forward.

Takeru, Haruto, and you stood extremely still, slowly taking in the man before you three: it was Tohru.

"Uncle!" Takeru shouted. Your face went white, wondering if it was really him and as if on cue, the one confirmation you needed presented itself...

"Yahoo Y/N san" he waved at you, seemingly unfazed by your presence. "What are you doing here?"

Turning your attention to the taller and broader Oikawa, you did your best to remain calm and collected.

"I came to see my little brother play in today's practice of course. The better question is why are you here?"

"I just landed in Japan about 4 hours ago... I had meant for this to be a surprise but it seems you caught me first before my friends. It can't be helped I guess." sheepishly grinning, like a criminal caught red handed.

"Uncle! You didn't say anything, why didn't you tell us?" Takeru looked annoyed but also gleeful, even if his tone and words sounded rough, the smile that plastered onto his face couldn't be more obvious. 

Oikawa whipped around to look at Takeru, "I just said I wanted my visit to be a surprise, were you not listening?" His brows furrowed but his smile remained as big as ever, happy to see his beloved nephew.

You noticed he had a slight stubble, likely from his long flight; his physique changed quite a bit, going from lean and fit to muscular and powerful looking. That much you could tell despite all the layers of clothing. You wondered what sort of diet he had to be on to maintain that athletic prowess. You took a deep inhale of the icy air, stopping yourself before your mind wandered... elsewhere.

Luckily, all it took was your little brother's pubescent voice crack to grab your attention to the present moment instead of ogling Oikawa. 

"Dude! Your uncle is Oikawa san? The one that plays for Argentina?" Haruto squeaked. "It's an honor to meet you sir!" his voice trembled, knowing he was a huge fan of your ex. Admittedly, you couldn't help but join your brother in watching Oikawa's games after hearing the rumors of him playing for a Latin American team from other alumni.

"Oh you don't have to be polite, I remember you Haruto" Oikawa sheepishly grinned, not expecting his ex's brother to be so formal. "I would have met up with you three sooner but I got caught up in a conversation with coach Irihata." he chuckled.

Your brother turned to you, whispering loudly:

"HE was your ex?? How do I not remember him??" his voice was shaking.

"I should be asking you about that airhead!" You teased him. "I knew you two met once".

"O-Oikawa san!" Haruto yelped, unable to bring down his excitement. "Could I ask-"

"Aoba Johsai!" Irihata's voice rang. "The bus is here! Let's go home". Oikawa looked back and smiled.

"Oh that brings me back"

Takeru and Haruto straightened out their backs and sighed. "I guess we gotta go now" Takeru said, "I want to stay and talk to you uncle!"

Oikawa raised his hand and placed it on Takeru's head, ruffling his short hair.

"You did good there, Takeru! Try working on your foot work some more so you can get a better timing for your approach. A setter is gonna do everything they can to accommodate but you gotta put in some work too. I'll see you later!"

"Sure unc! Bye!" He parted ways with you and Oikawa, your younger brother following suit, and ran along with their team to catch their bus. Their voices grew quieter the further they got.

"DUDE, you never said your uncle is Oikawa!?" 

"You never asked?? Besides he's still..." 

You were unable to catch what Takeru said but he was probably airing out Oikawa's dirty laundry once more. When you looked over at Oikawa, you swore you saw a vein pulse for a fraction of a second.

As the kids left, it was just you two standing there with the air growing a little awkward, unsure of how exactly to approach each other after so long. 

"So..." you started. His eyes grew noticeably big, awaiting your next phrase with much anticipation.

"You wanna tell me why you lied about those cookies?" you playfully glared at him, a smile erupting across your face. 

Oikawa's once tense shoulders dropped as soon as you uttered those words, laughing as he did, it seemed like he appreciated that playful nature you always had more than ever.

"Hmm I guess I gotta explain myself huh?" smirking, knowing that he was cornered. His 12 year secret was finally exposed to his ex and they demanded answers. "As expected of my ex~" he sighed defeatedly.  

Why did that... make your heart skip a beat?

You tried not to think much of it, it's been less than an hour that you meet in such a long time and already you want to be greedy, you want to know more about him.

Quickly, you thought on your feet. "Oikawa san, are you busy?" 

You couldn't tell from his face alone but something in his eyes dimmed a little when you addressed him by his family name. 

You panicked internally, it's not like you had meant to put distance between the two of you, you just weren't sure where you stood with Oikawa, it's been over a decade since you two broke up... would he misinterpret something?

Were you being the weird one here? Wanting to have dinner with your ex and catch up? Has he changed?

Maybe YOU gravely misread the situation? Has he become more foreign in the sense that he's used to more physical responses like hugs or ... kisses on the cheek?

Your face started to grow red at the thought of introducing yourself to Oikawa so... forwardly, it just felt too... romantic for you, even when you saw other international volleyball teams greet each other this way, cultures and mannerisms that seemed like a huge offense here in Japan must be so normal for him now.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind, one that could hopefully bring back that shine in his eyes.

"Are you hungry? You wanna go eat at that ramen shop you used to love?" You smiled fondly. That ramen shop meant so much to him, it's where he and his team went after their games, win or lose.

The glimmer in his eyes returned, cocking his head and grinning at you, as if you read his mind.

"Oh I'd love that Y/N!" He chirped before putting his hand on his mouth, his eyes wide. "Ah could I call you that? Are we still on a first name basis?"

Your heart picked up, why is your face feeling hot again? Was he feeling the same? Or is he just more open now?

You mustered up and did the best to not let your excitement break through in your voice; you tried to assume this was purely platonic, there's no way you wanted your heart broken tonight or end up disappointed. You had to set your expectations low.

"Yes that's fine, as long as you're okay with that."

You two started to walk in the direction of the ramen shop, Oikawa suggesting first heading to the closest station and getting off a couple of stops closest, proud of himself for still remembering this city route and transportation.

"Y'know Y/N, you can call me Tohru. I really don't mind".

.. - .----. ... / ..-. --- --- .-.. .. ... .... / - --- / ... - .- .-. -

Dinner was delicious, maybe it was the 10 hour work day that seasoned your ramen and Oikawa's long flight that gave the food much more flavor, punching you both with its savory and salty goodness.

Maybe it was because you two chatted as if nothing happened, both of you lightly acknowledging the break up while slurping up noodles and maybe that's all it took, just a good meal to lighten the mood of the topic.

You admitted to Oikawa that your little brother was a fan of his, despite him not connecting the dots earlier and realizing who Oikawa was. 

You recounted a few plays of his where he set the ball in a few crucial moments that turned the tide of the game. How Oikawa's fierce serves still made you tremble, remembering the deafening sound of the ball as it slammed the gym floor. Before you knew it, you gained an understanding and appreciation for the sport, something Oikawa definitely noticed during the conversation.

Maybe it was how chatty he was now, recounting his stories and mishaps in Argentina, living abroad, the struggles of learning a foreign language and realizing that the language textbooks prepared him for nothing. 

Meeting a former rival/underclassmen of his during his trip to Brazil out of the blue was probably his most memorable story by far. He seemed proud of the guy, recounting how badly he used to play in the one year they interacted with each other during matches now kicking ass in beach volleyball.

Oikawa seemed much more... content... and less tied down by his failures and shortcomings. He focused only on the good that happened in his life since graduating. 

You felt that flame light up again, wondering if he was feeling the same. If he even had room in his heart for you to visit once again or if he was open to the idea. 

During the conversation, it took you aback to find out he was single, only mentioning it to the shop owner after a few prodding questions about Oikawa and his love life became overbearing, interrupting the flow of his and your dinner. It didn't help that he paid for your meal as well as his, making it more incriminating the more you two denied that it was a date.

.

.

It was well past 10pm at this point but the two of you strolled by the neighborhood, taking in all the nostalgic sights and smells of the night, retelling stories from your guy's school days and growing up in different parts of the city.

You felt like Oikawa was enjoying himself, not caring that he's fighting against jet lag. You couldn't help but wonder and interpret this as him wanting to spend more time with you, as if he didn't want to go home yet and stalled for time.

The way he patted you or would touch your shoulder set you ablaze. Again, maybe it's just a culture difference and him living abroad made him more open to this type of affection but even when you two had dated before, he was never this outwardly affectionate and attentive. Was it him flirting and subtly wanting to be around you more? Is he just being friendly? Is this a new normal for him and not realize it?

It was then his voice lulled you out of your thoughts, pointing at a familiar park with a swing set. "Y/N you remember this place? Let's go, come on." Excitedly, he gestured for you to follow him and like a moth attracted to light, you followed the brilliant warmth of those embers.

As you sat down on the swing set, you chuckled to yourself, raising your hand to try to stifle the noise but unfortunately for you, Oikawa didn't let this go unnoticed.

"What's up Y/N?"

"Nothing! It's just.." you paused, trying to catch your breath. "I think this is where we came to hang out after our first date, right?"

Oikawa froze, pondering his surroundings before speaking. "Hey yeah, no wonder this seemed familiar." His face flushed a little as he swiftly turned to you, raising his hands up. "Pure coincidence! I promise!"

"Tohru you're fine. I don't really mind at all!" you reassured him. Something about this hangout seemed juvenile to you but not in a negative way. It was nostalgic but it also felt like you two were back in 2012, reliving your high school prime, imagining that you two had snuck out of your homes to meet up by a local park. Things you do only when you're dating someone.

"Y/N" Oikawa spoke calmly, contrary to his excitement just a few moments ago. "Thank you."

"...."

".... What for?" You were genuinely confused. Did you do something just now? You were freezing from the winds blowing over you two but you still felt a rush of blood running through you. The way the sound of your name came out of his mouth just now melted you. 

He took a deep breath, leaning his head back like how he concentrates for his serves in between time outs. 

"Thank you for being you." 

Oh now he's done it. Your heartbeat had never pounded this loudly in your ears before until now.

"You weren't someone I was planning to see when I came back but I can't say I'm not happy that I did."

There was suddenly a twinge of guilt that struck you when he said that.

He continued, "I know we haven't spoken in years but I feel so happy that we're able to have a conversation like this, and even joke about it back at the ramen shop. I don't think I can say other people would be so willing to do the same. So thank you."

You bit your lip, feeling progressively worse and worse the more he voiced his appreciation for you. 

You knew what it was that kept eating at you, you knew exactly what made you feel so guilty. But how would you tell Oikawa? How are you going to tell him without upsetting him? Did that memory still haunt him just as much as it did for you? 

You felt so conflicted, you wanted to tell him how much you supported him on the sidelines, with each match he was in. You wanted to tell him so badly how much you missed him, almost giving in a few times to reach out to him and unblock him from social media.

But what message would that send to him? He was living in a different world, enjoying his time abroad and living his best life in a sport that greatly rewards him. Who were you to be a barrier to all that? These stupid selfish feelings kept reappearing from time to time, in between your other exes, wondering if Oikawa would ever take you back.

Just how-

"Y/N!" Oikawa raised his voice. You hadn't noticed it but he was no longer gently swinging himself on the swing next to you, he was crouched on one knee with his hand on your forearm. His other hand reached out into his coat and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

He sounded concerned, and honestly, with good reason: from his perspective, one minute he was having a conversation with an old friend and the next thing he knew, his ex hung their head and heard sniffling, watching tears fall and stain their work pants.

You had been overthinking, a habit that had a double edge. A habit that he was keen on spotting.

Taking the handkerchief, you wiped away the tears from your face before muttering out your next set of words. 

"Tohru... I'm sorry" you whispered. "I feel like... everything you just said is undeserved."

He tilted his head to the side, curious about what you had meant.

"Undeserved in what way?"

"I just.. You've said so many good things about me and yet... I said nothing but horrible things to you years ago" Taking another deep breath, you continued. "I can't believe you don't resent me."

Oikawa's hand on your forearm grasped you firmly but gently enough to convey what he's feeling. He looked into your eyes and flashed you a bright smile.

"Y/N I don't resent you at all. I'm sorry that you've carried this burden all these years."

He shifted his weight, switching knees to lean on while the other one got the blood flowing again. His other hand hovered over your knee before finally resting it there, rubbing soft circles onto it.

"I'm sorry that I got upset whenever you told me to stop being so obsessed with volleyball. I'm really sorry that you had to date someone who couldn't love himself at the time. I assume that this is what you're talking about, yeah?" His voice was sincere, almost shaking as well.

You sniffled before you could respond, not wanting to risk some water running out of your nose in front of Oikawa.

"Yeah... I knew volleyball meant everything to you but maybe... maybe I could have said things more gently then"

"But you did Y/N, at least at first. I was the one who was too stubborn to realize how badly I was doing before realizing it was too late"

You thought back to the times Oikawa would rant to you about some Ushi guy or how he enjoyed seeing the fallen look on his underclassmen’s face after a tournament. It bothered you how often he would bring it up into conversations with you, constantly seeking validation and complaining to you when you two first dated, accumulating frustration until it wasn't bearable any longer.

Maybe your anger was justified.

But the physical cringe your body made when you thought back to that one day; the day you lashed out at him to quit volleyball.

You solemnly smiled, pushing yourself gently on the swing now. "I'm so happy you didn't listen to me then". You placed your hand on top of his, and to your surprise, he didn't retract or flinch.

You looked up at him, tears running down your face now. "Tohru, I'm so sorry I told you to quit all those years ago. I felt horrible knowing that had you listened to me, you would have lived a very different life."

The winds of coming rain clouds felt sharp against the moist parts of your eyes and cheeks but the tears wouldn't stop running. You had such a range of emotions hitting you all at one: guilt, sadness, pride, joy, relief, it all overwhelmed you.

It was just as shocking that your ex still held compassion for you, for reasons that you can only guess but you couldn't be certain. 

Oikawa took a deep breath and stood up, taking your hand and gesturing for you to follow and as soon as you got up on your own two feet, he went in for the kill shot:

He wrapped his big arms around you, squeezing you until you squeaked, giggling at the sound. "Y/N you don't have to apologize for anything, it's alright."

"Tohru..." your arms slowly wrapped around him too, your hands grasping at the back of his coat as you let the tears fall some more as you hid your face in his shoulder. Partly because you were in such awe at what was happening and partly because of the cold.

"I never resented you Y/N", he continued. "When we broke up.. I never felt anger towards you. I was really mad at myself for losing you." His face gradually sunk into the crook of your neck, now hiding his own face.

"I had so many reasons to fly to Argentina and you were one of them.."

"Tohru..."

"I thought to myself, ' 'This worthless pride of mine has a price, I better make sure I do my damn best to come out on top'. I had nothing to lose after I lost you Y/N".

"I... Tohru" a sense of calm took over you, finally quelling that weight that was on your consciousness after 12 years. "That pride was never worthless you know" you reassured him. “It only made you resilient and stronger. You certainly proved me wrong.”

A gust of wind slashed through you two, almost knocking you over had it not been for Oikawa hugging you tighter. As much as you two knew a storm was coming, there was something... missing. There was something that you needed to tell him.

You felt something... wet ...

But it wasn't from the sky, no it was on your neck; a few drops of tears fell from his pretty face. From his sniffling, you knew that this man broke down; his breathing hitched and heaved in an irregular pattern and his nails began to dig into you.

You knew at that moment, the break up hurt him just as much as it did you. He cried as if he hadn’t opened up for years.

Actually, that was very likely the case.

"Tohru, it's alright" you patted him, doing your best to comfort him now. Similar to the times when he'd just cry to you after losing big matches. He would never admit it to most people but you knew Oikawa was an emotional mess, a huge crybaby for sure. It was something you found so endearing about him, something that you're weirdly glad hasn't changed after all these years. The way he opened up to you and a selected few made you feel so special. All these years later and he still had that trust in you? Your heart softened.

On reflex, you turned your head to plant a small kiss on his stubbly cheek and-

.

..

...

That's when you both froze; his breathing hitched and his grasp on your coat grew tighter; his squeezing making the synthetic material screech audibly.

Did that... That was muscle memory right?

Your heart picked up the pace, drumming loudly in your ears, your body temperature rising and those cold gusts of wind suddenly started to feel refreshing instead of prickly.

"Ah! Tohru!! That was.. It was a force of habit!" you panicked. It was like those years of dating charged head on, possessing your limbs and taking action, doing what felt right. What felt like second nature.

As you tried to push yourself away from Oikawa, to your surprise, he just held onto you tighter, bringing you closer towards him and offsetting your balance to where you practically had your weight in his arms and should he let go, you would be falling to the damp sand. You had no other choice but to surrender to your fate, your life was in his hands now, quite literally. 

"I really missed you Y/N chan~. I never once forgot about you" he whispered, almost too afraid to declare it, to have his heart broken again but he dared take the risk. He sniffled a bit more all the while holding you in a sturdy lock; you couldn't see his face but you knew the man you never stopped loving was bawling his eyes out for you.

Recollecting yourself after processing all the events that lead to this very moment, you lifted a hand and started rubbing his scalp, something that was also reminiscent of your time together, something you remembered about Oikawa always looking forward to after dates or even when you would pass by him in the hallways during lunch period.

At this point, it was obvious that those embers you held onto for years burned brightly tonight, reigniting themselves at that first spark from when he first appeared from the shadows back at the gymnasium entrance.

The hand that was rubbing his scalp dropped slowly, cupping the side of his face, prompting Oikawa to raise his head and look you in the eyes. Maybe it was the tears or maybe it was a genuine light in his eyes when you held him in the palm of your hand, you know something just... synced in that moment. 

You smiled softly, gliding your thumb over his icy cheek and wiping away a tear. Only that in doing so, it landed on your face, making you flinch.

"Pffft" Oikawa bursted into a fit of laughter, admiring your reaction. You followed suit; his laughter ringing in your ears and enveloping you. His breath escaped and dissipated into the cold night with each giggle he let out, mixing with yours.

As everything settled down, you brought his face closer to yours and without missing a beat, you spoke softly:

"Do you want to try again?"

..-. --- .-. / - .... .- - / --- .-.. -.. / ..-. . . .-.. .. -. --. / .. ... / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .. -. / -- -.-- / .... . .- .-. -

[niluffa]

tw : post-fight, moody keigo, fluff, sfw | cw : 0,4k

“nest head,” you whisper.

“excuse me?” hawks─no, keigo, looks at you. the cold cement presses against his cheeks, and he just glares.

“you heard me,” you whisper again, looking at the sky.

“i clearly didn’t─say it again,” keigo growls. the attack from earlier damaged his ear drum, so your voice was pretty much muffled and unable to fully reach his brain.

“nest head,” you repeat, this time more louder.

the ground was cold against his back, wings still sensitive from the fight against some villain whose name was long time forgotten.

“that nickname makes no sense,” keigo huffs.

“it does,” you argue, “just think about it.”

“i’ll pass,” keigo groans, proud of himself for not shooting you the most nasty glare he could manage to pull at this moment.

“your hair is a blonde─yellowish colour,” you point out, finally looking at him after an hour of staring at the stars.

keigo’s eye twitches, “so?”

“nests are yellow,” you pout, feeling stupid for having to point out such an obvious fact; especially to a pro hero.

“actually,” keigo clears his throat to put on a mocking and rather a nerd-like tone, “nests are usually brown, due to the stick’s natural colour.”

“somebody watches national geographic too much," you mutter; oh yeah, maybe that’s the reason he always ignores your texts in the middle of the night when you clearly know he’s awake.

“i literally don’t,” keigo rolls his eyes, lying. “that’s it?”

“what do you mean?” you raise an eyebrow at him, the cold night breeze picking up all of sudden; hair thrashing around wildly in the wind.

“my hair colour,” keigo says, squinting his eyes, “is that the only reason for that nickname?”

“of course not,” you laugh, and as much as keigo wanted to stay grumpy all night, his lips cracked a weak smile at the sight in front of him.

“the second reason is the fact that you’re literally a bird.”

“actually─” there he goes again.

“your quirk is fierce wings, not a bird─i get it.”

“but you’re always ignoring that,” keigo hisses, and you’re not sure if it’s because of your teasing or the fact that he got beaten up pretty badly, “the bird jokes are overused.”

“okay, ‘mr. i can't take a joke’” you shrug, earning an annoyed groan from keigo─not like you expected anything less.

yes, you were a pain in the ass, not helping him with the rest he needed after a tough fight; but you were always by his side, no matter what he did.

and yes, he did invite you to watch new national geographic episodes with him─branches for nests are brown, and that man is not a bird.

nevertheless, he’s your nest head.

[wonsroyalty]

ever seen 🧃

jungwon x f!reader ,, smau

prologue

Ignoring the fact that Sohee had just told you to “like and subscribe to his tiktok account” in order to view his back to school vlog, Yn ditched him to walk into her Biology class.

‘Last year of this dreadful subject’

Mr Van, your teacher for the year, displayed the seating plan on the whiteboard and greeted students as they came in.

“Hello!” he beamed. “Find your name and make your way to your seat. Let’s have a fun year!”

‘Wow, cheery’ you smiled awkwardly.

Scanning the room, it registered that you were one of the last people to arrive.

Your seat was located around the middle section of the room next to some boy, Jungwon ?? You’d never heard of him before.

You walked over to the empty seats and took a pencil case our of your backpack.

Mr Van had handed out textbooks and classwork books prior to you getting there so you just filled your details out onto them.

“Hello!” Mr Van smiled again to the next student coming in. “Find your name and make your way to your seat. Let’s have an awesome year!”

It was like a light had blinded your sight - the sun was shining through the blinds - as the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walked through the door.

He laughed at Mr Van before scanning the board and making his way to his seat.

‘Why is he getting closer…’

He pulled out the chair next to you and sat down.

You mentally cursed yourself for being so down bad immediately as you now knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus during the final year.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jungwon.” he smiled with the cutest dimple you had ever seen.

Your brain went into overdrive as you nodded with an unintended confused expression.

He faced the board and listened to what Mr Van was saying but you just couldn’t look away.

‘How have I never seen this guy before?’

‘He’s so beautiful.’

‘WHY is he so beautiful?!’

‘I could spent an eternity looking at that face.’

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Is there something on my face?”

Your eyes widened. “NO! I mean nooo, sorry.”

He smiled again then went back to writing his notes.

Face heating up in embarrassment, you looked away and tried to shake the feeling in your chest.

~

“So. What you’re saying is that you’ve met the supposed love of your life and he sits next to you in bio?” Minji questioned.

Riki burst out into laughter, stopping when you shoved him.

“I’m being serious!” you assured them.

Sunoo shook his head in disbelief, “So who’s the guy…?”

You froze.

“Um.”

This set Riki off again. “What do you mean um?” he cackled.

“You don’t remember his name?” Minji sighed.

“No.. I do it was… Johnny!” you clapped. “That’s his name.”

They all looked deep in thought as they tried to assess if they knew anyone called Johnny.

“Ahh! I have his number.” Sunoo cheered. “I’ll text him for you.”

Sohee came over with his vlog camera.

“What’s up Slut me out nation! About time I introduced you to my friends.” he spoke to the camera as he took a seat between Minji and Sunoo.

Instead of panning the camera around he just checked his own appearance.

“Right then.” Minji rolled her eyes. “What did Johnny say?”

“I think I texted the wrong person.” Sunoo grimaced showing you all his screen.

Riki almost fell of the table, clutching his sides.

“Woahhh what did I miss?” Sohee pouted.

You snatched the phone out of his hand.

“Who did you send this to?!”

“My friend Jungwon.” Sunoo flinched as you repeatedly hit the table.

“Oh my god! That’s the guy! That’s the guy I was talking about!”

Minji shook her head in disappointment, “You really did forget his name.”

The revelation hit you like a truck.

“Oh my… I just got rejected.”

“Well not technically- ” Riki started.

“Ughhhhgggh, how can I face him ever again?” you cried out dramatically.

Sohee cracked his knuckles, “Who do I need to beat up?”

Minji lowered his hands and explained the situation to him.

“Well he didn’t necessarily reject you.” Sohee frowned.

“He said never.” you cried actual tears as your body slumped onto the table.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends shared confused glances.

“What is she on about?” Minji mouthed.

Riki rubbed your back in attempt to comfort you.

“It’s okay, yn.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, going straight to your twitter account.

“Are you seriously creating an account right now?” Sunoo stared blankly at your screen.

“It’s to help me cope with my feelings.” you sniffled.

Sohee “What kind of therapy method is this-”

Minji shut him down, “It’s good to get your feelings out, it might help you get over him faster.”

You nodded, reassuring yourself on the matter. The page would probably only last for the year but it’s not like you were planning on using it at uni.

~

chapters | next

[yourstrullyme]

not to be weird or anything (I will proceed to be extremely weird) but uh I saw some random tags on on a post that you reblogged and now I really need you to write a fic where Cait goes looking for Jinx and finds her and yells at her to go talk to her sister okay bye

LMAO no need to apologize we embrace weird in this house

ooh man i need that fic too lol but rn i dont think i can do much im a bit busy with life but i can offer an idea of what it would look like under the cut maybe?

so like i picture it being like a few years maybe, and maybe vi's okay with it, but Cait isn't, because Cait is sure Jinx didn't die. she gets the fish guy (i think his name was steb?) to help and at first its a pretty intense search, but then it dwindles and eventually they just keep an eye out for weird stuff like maybe there's a new mechanic in some far away city that's just praised for their genius, or maybe there's a new weapon that's making some other nation's army the winner of every battle, y'know? just stuff that screams jinx was here.

and to be honest she's sort of lost hope too? like she's had her moments of rage against jinx because how could you do this to her? how could you leave her? how could you do all this and then leave? why did you survive but not stay? but also she's had time to think, to understand.

She talks to ekko about it. not that she thinks jinx is alive, no. just like vi, ekko's had enough. he tried mourning her, going through the steps, trying to find some closure, but the pain just wont leave. so he works on keeping her memory alive and in doing so deals with his regrets and mistakes in his own way. but she talks to him about her, too. just, jinx. who she was, how wrong cait was about some things, how right she was about others. her regrets, too. ekko can empathize. he also gave up on her.

so one morning when steb tells her there's been a sighting cait's just eating breakfast with vi and they're laughing about the toast vi likes to make - a mixture of butter, marmalade and avocados (idk what kind of shit they eat for breakfast in piltover sue me) - so she doesn't really register steb's interruption until vi asks about it and steb looks worried between the two. cait doesn't lie, vi would be able to tell anyways and then she'd just be hurt. no, she simply says its work and leaves. it technically is. jinx is still a wanted person in piltover, technically.

she takes an airship to a city she's never visited before. it looks like the perfect mixture between piltover and zaun. there are no great buildings or statues, no grand bridges over polluted waters; but also no trash-infested streets, no beggars in corners, no policemen abusing children.

steb's 'sighting' was actually a news outlet informing its readers that a new form of long-range transportation was being worked on after a woman had invented a seemingly 'totally efficient' battery - no loss of energy of any kind. steb was sure it had to be her. caitlyn not so much. not because it didn't match - it did. more so because of a loss of hope but rather a fantasy she'd been having for a while now. jinx, out and about, maybe on a market or just strolling through a city, happy.

she reaches the address steb gave her and finds a small bar and, immediately, she knows she's found the right place.

'the last drop' reads the sign over the door. caitlyn clenches her jaw, suddenly alert. the fantasy that had become jinx over the years is suddenly overcome by the memories of her. what if all cait'd thought was just a way for her to cope? what if jinx is still...jinx? what if she still hates her? caitlyn vaguely wishes she'd brought her gun, but it's no use. she's here now and, whoever jinx has turned into, she hopes is willing to, at least, talk.

it's the middle of the day so, rightfully so, the place is empty when she goes in. only a singular lonely figure stands there, at the bar, drying glassware as she hums along to the song on the jukebox.

"Jinx,"

[centrally-unplanned]

Oh lets drag up some more 2000's politics debates - Noah Smith had this take today:

So bait is bait, but I think this fun bait, I'll take this. Its a definition game (what does "win" mean) but that can still be elucidating.

There is obviously a sense in which the US won the War in Iraq - which is extremely easy to reveal by looking at Afghanistan! Unlike there, where the explicit, named enemy of the US outlasted us, overthrew our imposed regime, and took power, in Iraq it is true that the country is currently governed by the system the US built, and it rules with relative stability. Not ideal, but hey its not Syria or anything. This would in fact be *shocking* to people in the 2000's - back then the general vibe was that Iraq would descend into full-on civil war. People openly discussed throwing in the towel and just letting the country split in three. And then all of that just fizzled out over time, and people started buying into the system. Its not glorious "nation building" but it looks like it stuck. It is fair to say that Iraq is not in fact a disaster case study in the nation building timeline (from an outcomes standpoint, from other lens like humanitarian its different), and its often unfairly seen that way.

But there is just no coherent definition of "win" divorced from strategy, divorced from goals. Imagine if the US today jointly invaded Israel & Gaza both, and hey throw in Hezbollah too, what the fuck ever (Pro tip: don't do this) with the goal of setting up governments that did whatever the fuck they wanted, don't care, as long as they don't attack each other anymore. And we got Iraq today as a result? Eh, I won't fight you too hard if you call that a win. This magical funland scenario hit the target, right? The US wanted to de-escalate regional conflicts in the region, it did that. How nice a place those are to live or w/e wasn't the point.

In Iraq, "not falling apart" was not the goal. The goal was end Sadaam's WMD program, which well raincheck on that, but moving on was also to End Terrorism by Sending a Message to other enemy countries like Iran and also building a beacon of secular, liberal democracy in the Middle East to show the people that there was a better path to Islamic Fundamentalism, thus reducing its strength in the region.

It Did Not Do That.

Man, can I not emphasize enough how much it did not do that, how much the War in Iraq did not reduce the strength of Islamic Fundamentalism in the Middle East. It is literally, not figuratively-literally but actually-literally, one of the greatest own goals in the history of strategy since war has existed. I have explained that part in more detail too often in the past to repeat, but do I even need to? Say the sentence "The War in Iraq reduced Islamic extremism as a political movement" out loud and try not to laugh. You can't, its too absurd to get past your lips.

From that lens, the proper lens, I do not think you can call the War in Iraq a win. How stable Iraq is, while a dodged bullet for its people, barely scratches the surface of what would need to be shown to call it a win; and I see precious few nails that can join it.

[woneuntonzz]

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𝐓𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐭

band leader!wonbin x song writer!reader

warning/s: cussing

genre: songfic

word count: 6.7k words!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you just can't call a spade a spade. ⭑♪⊹ ࣪ ˖ —the debt unpaid; inspired by Cafuné's Tek It. ✩🎧ᝰ.ᐟ

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The bundles of pillows of gas, outlined with the color of the sky, had been your favorite subject in photography. It fascinated you how everything else seemed to remain in their respective placements —the sun, the stars, and the moon— everything, but the clouds. 

Though you could never say that you favored it more than the moon. 

It somehow made you feel puerile, how something so trivial as moon photographs saturating your gallery made you feel sick to the stomach. You swore that you felt icky having mostly those photographs filling your precious display.

But why then? —why are your eyes so drawn to its shine?

Maybe it is for the sole reason of the void that it fills, even more so when there are none of its little friends —the stars— to accompany it. You hated that, though you admit that the moon is humbler than the spiteful sun. At least the moon allows for you to admire it from afar and closer whilst the sun denies you from it as if it's too glorious for the eyes of man.

You didn't love the moon, but you were true to its beauty and it's granted privilege for it. People loved the moon and you just questioned it. Overlooking its scientific significance, you just thought it put the clouds to shame. A moment would come where the clouds would conceal the moon, but despite its efforts, the moon will always outshine them, even more so with its light outlining the clouds and not the color of the sky that surrounds it. The moon is selfishly beautiful —well to be fair, if you hadn't grown, you would've never realized that the clouds were never meant to be focal. 

The art of photo journaling has been your passion for as long as you can remember. From a very young memory, you were a self-proclaimed photographer who held back a sour face whenever you were asked to snap pictures for your aunts who needed a picture next to every foreign sight and object they saw.

You wished you could just take the photos with your own eyes for even with the newest DSLR —at that time— you would never be able to capture the feeling of which the true vision draws from. 

Even then you were satisfied with your work, having experienced competing in national journalism competitions from middle school till your senior year in highschool, performing exceptionally well in some seasons and satisfactory in some, overall you were content with what you have and have not achieved. 

You never aimed for your name to be displayed all over your school's walls or for it to be countlessly mentioned by any of your teacher's before actually doing their job. You just wanted to bring your visions to life.

These visions would soon take a full swing to a different direction at the very last day of vacation before starting college. 

The sky had just turned pink. You felt so lucky, so intrigued with the seamless transition that had just occurred, seamless but conspicuous. 

With your camera in hand, you captured the pink clouds and the birds that flew along with them, the scenery of the park was just pure pleasure for your eyes. 

You shifted from place to place to take picture after picture of all you found worth your camera's SD card. 

You were taking a picture of the clouds that formed a subtle shape of two hearts. It wasn't your first encounter with such enigmatic forms, but this one would stick out like a sore thumb in your gallery.

Because right below it was an unsuspecting boy —well, he appeared unsuspecting at the very least. You took a picture where he looked up at the heart-shaped clouds, only the back of his head would be visible. The next picture was of him looking right into the lenses. 

Startled, you'd move the camera away from your face and avert your attention from the boy.

The once muted ambience of your surroundings would suddenly make sounds that seemed louder than they're supposed to be. 

You wanted to look back, to look at him again. 

His smile, his eyes, it all aligned with the hue of the sky and the sweet, sweet pattern in the clouds. This was the sublime portraiture that led you to where you are now. 

You weren't a stranger to Wonbin's appeal. He had quite a line of girls and boys who were smitten over him —and for that, you didn't even think of staring at him for too long, fearing that you might find yourself daydreaming, hoping. You thought you had zero chances with him, because it's him.

He's undeniably handsome, unreal even. He got decent marks and left a good impression on his teachers when it came to oral performance. He was in a school band that mostly performed worship songs during their youth, but would eventually resort to the more popular chart songs, censoring any words when necessary. 

Many were fond of him and just as much were jealous. 

“Good-looking, talented, and smart? there must be a jerk in him.” —you've heard from one of the many low-lives in your class that sat at the back. 

Maybe it was true. It was quite an impossibility for him to just be that good. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“What do you think of me?”

“Perfect.” you spoke, nearly spewing it as a question. 

“I'm not.” you laughed at him for wearing such a bashful smile as he replied. “I really am not.”

After that day at the park where you had accidentally snapped a picture of him in the most beautiful scene you have ever captured, you were captured by his allure. 

The way his hair danced with the wind and the leaves of the maple trees, the sight was all too heavenly. You were overwhelmed with the feelings that rushed through your veins, you felt like you needed to let it all out, one way or another. 

When you got home, you sat on your bed with your laptop sitting on top of your thighs. You stared at the loading status of your exporting photos that you captured earlier that day and a few days prior. 

Seeing his photo was all it took for you to start jotting down words, expressing how spellbound you are towards his presence. 

You hummed the melody you heard earlier at the park as he looked at you. It was like the breeze was singing for the two of you, and the sounds of the leaves that fell together in a beat that followed your heart's.

You were certain it was only you who's melting over such a small matter. 

Regardless, you wrote something, a poem. But you like to refer to it as your first song, and it follows the tune of the air that whispered to you.

“I like you, Wonbin.” 

It was scary. To remain standing there for what felt like a day, you thought you'd go home with red eyes and bottled tears. 

His hand slowly reaching up to hold yours gave you the thrills.

“I like you too, Y/n.” 

It was unbelievable, even for your friends. It's Park Wonbin, the Park Wonbin that could never spare people a minute of his time for insignificant matters, being too absorbed with music and the idea of creating a masterpiece of his own. He liked you? 

“You… like me?” you pointed your shaky finger on yourself.

He gently rubbed at the skin on your hands. “No doubts, beautiful.”

You would subconsciously scoff at people who called you pretty because people would often use it to ask for favors. You wondered, was this him asking for a favor? a favor to use you? to only want you when he needed you?

You wrote about these thoughts later that night, and that would be your second song you called 'Blissful but Bittersweet'.

These feelings would be subsided on your very first date. He took you to the studio where he and his band practiced and recorded studio versions of their covers that they'd upload anywhere they could. 

You two were the only ones in the studio at that time. 

For a while, you were both hesitating on looking into each other's eyes, or starting a conversation. When his eyes caught the lights of the studio and glimmered like fairy light, you couldn't look away. You had the tendency to stare and hold at the things that seemed too good to be true.

Just being there with him was all too good to be true.

He stared back at you, his eyes explored your features, breaking you out of your trance. And there he asked you what you thought of him. 

The way he responded to your answer made you think that he knew, he knew the effect he had on everyone else. But you hoped that he saw you differently, different from everyone else that blushed and gushed over him.

“I think your photographs are as beautiful as you.” he spoke as he set up the amplifier for his guitar. “It's your trademark I think.”

You were flushed, but even more confused. “What do you mean?” 

“I would know when a photo was taken by you.” His voice was like a bass line to a soul song.

It was true. He'd been noticing you for a while. He was amazed with how great your works in photojournalism were, he admired your passion for photography, turning even the most tragic elements into such beautiful imagery. 

Those things however, weren't the only basis for his fascination. 

He saw how diligent you were, how you seemed so happy and content with your school life. If it seemed as if he paid no care for the people who whispered for days and days with no end because his eyes would be darted towards god-knows-what, his ears were open for them.

The things he's heard being said about you were endless and repetitive praise, and some backhanded 'worries' they had for you. 

“I don't think Y/n actually has a life outside of the competitions”

“I know right, it's kind of sad. Must be boring, and her friends are no different. Might as well just be government officials.”

“She should let loose a little, maybe then someone would show interest in her.” — and quiet laughter.

He couldn't suppress a scoff, and later a rumor would spark that Park Wonbin had a crush on campus journalist Y/n. 

You never knew about it since you were out of the country for nationals, and when he told you, you had raised eyebrows.

It was only now that he could admire the elegance of your features. Your eyes and their unique shape, the soft curve of your cheeks and its tint, and your velvet lips. 

He had never seen you under a different light before, what he was seeing now went beyond what he could imagine. 

You would write again after that date, and this time you had an actual melody to follow, it was of his guitar's. He played a 'scrap piece' —as he would call it— and asked you if it sounded alright. 

He felt all warm and fuzzy inside when you enthusiastically answered. “I loved it!”

Your full voice made his heart bounce in and out of his chest. He thought, if only, if only he could incorporate your sugared voice into his music. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Are these yours?” you rushed over to Wonbin to recover your personal journal.

When you'd get it from him, it was turned to a page where you had written about your shared first kiss. 

“Uh, yeah.” you gulped when you heard his chuckle.

“You're a wonderful writer too?” you looked up, expecting to see him standing and towering over your very existence.

But he was just as flushed as you were. “They're songs.”

The luminosity of his eyes lit up the room.

“Can you sing them for me?”

He listened to the melodies you have grasped out of pure memory, memories you've had with him.

It wouldn't take a while for him to figure out the meaning of the songs, and somehow, he was surprised to hear,

“They're all about you.”

The feelings that Wonbin had put you through —without his perception— were feelings you have never felt before in your life. Having control over these foreign feelings, somehow, meant taking on new mediums of expression for you. 

You would continue to write songs about your moments with him, all the little and more. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were both in your sophomore year in the same music and arts university. Your courses had apparent distinctions, but you two would share the same few classes together.

“I feel like I should be taking Composition instead of Media Arts.” you mumbled at the top of his head. 

The lecture hall was empty, you two took your time before leaving like everybody else. 

He had himself in between your arms and wrapped yours around him, like how dubiety wrapped around your brain and made it ache for that cause. 

“If you feel like it's the right thing, you definitely should, right? if Composition would help you to a point in your life where you're sound and happy, go for it.” he says, looking up at you with glistening eyes.

Wonbin was always the one to be in your arms and would often bury his face in the crook of your neck, taking in the whole of your warmth. You felt like his sanctuary, and likewise, he was yours.

Taking you to the studio became a routine for him, as a means of spending time with you. He would practice while you watched as his fingers moved rhythmically in a pace faster than your heartbeat. 

And it was with you that he'd first share his own solos and ask for your honest opinions. You were in awe every time. You had nothing but compliments to throw at him whenever he asked,

“Was it good?”

“It's incredible, Bin.” 

While he practiced, you wrote. 

It was a whole other experience to have him play for you as you observed and take in all of him, taking note of his delicate handling of his guitar, the sweat that would gradually build up and stick to his hair, and how he'd close his eyes, fully immersed in the music. 

Music resonates well with the two of you, it's like your own language, the one you shared and cherished by heart, the foundation of your relationship. 

“Let me see.” he'd say as he rests his chin atop of your head from behind you. 

You'd raise your journal to his sight, and you could feel his smile as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You make me feel so loved.” he whispers as he places a soft kiss on your jaw before once again burying his face in your neck. 

You'd always run your fingers through his hair, telling him that he makes you feel the same way, always. 

You loved Wonbin for everything he was —a musician, your best friend, your boyfriend. 

And for a long time, he'd been the Park Wonbin who owned a band, and owned your heart. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Going forward, you would change courses from Media Arts to Composition. You were back to square one. 

This is where your heart had led you to, where he had given you his full support and encouragement. 

Your schedules would crash because of the drastic shift, but still, you found ways to meet as much as you could. There were times where seeing each other wouldn't be possible, so you'd resort to calls instead. You two would talk to each other until you could hear his soft snores.

And when he'd wake up in the morning, he would apologize to you for falling asleep on you and you would always make sure to tell him that it's okay.

He would later take you to the studio again, but this time, there were others; his bandmates. 

It was your first time hanging around them, but you thought they were nice. The teasing was something you were never going to get used to, but Wonbin was relieved to have you by his side. 

He kept you close to him as he practiced, he took more breaks than retakes. He kept making mistakes at different points of their practice and would call for a break everytime —and each time, he went and sat next to you, laying his head on your shoulder as you delved your fingers in his hair. 

“Hey, Bin, you should really focus on your practice. This is for the finals —and I know you're tired, but your bandmates are tired too.” you whispered ever so softly into his ear.

It soothed him, and so he took a deep breath. “I will, starting this very minute.” He sits up and looks at you. He cups your face with his hands and leaves a kiss on your lips and on your forehead. “I just missed you so, so much.”

He goes back to practice, and he listens to you. He fixed himself up and focused. By the end of it they were able to finish practicing three songs.

He took you home to your dorm room, and asked if he could stay. Of course you could not reject him. You two would be all up on each other, all night.

Unfortunately for him, the next day won't be as pleasant as expected.

“Our bassist left.” He got up from your bed and stood near the edge, looking and scrolling on his phone. “That motherfucker.”

Your eyes widened. It wasn't that you've never heard him curse, it's his tone. It was frightening. You knew it wasn't for you —and hoped it would never be— but it made you think of the worse, what could be, and what would be.

“Where are we gonna find a fucking bassist? the competition is in three days.” he threw his head back as he ran his hand through his hair, clasping onto its ends out of disappointment and frustration. “That fucking asshole.” he muttured under his breath.

He turned to look at you, and he wished he shouldn't have. 

You had the face of an angel, and that angel, now, appears to be bewildered, petrified even. 

He sighed, bringing his eyes to the side. He stood there for a couple more seconds before he got his stuff, getting ready to leave.

“I'll go. I'm sorry Y/n, but I won't be around until I find a bassist that's competent.” he bluntly says before leaving, not shutting the door behind him —for he was afraid that if he did, he'd do it too hard and make you feel bad for it. 

You would go on for days without contact. You tried messaging him, but he left you on read. He would reply 16 hours later with: sorry y/n, we're really struggling here.

You stared at his message for hours. You didn't want to respond, so as to not further disturb him. After a few more hours, you'd receive a call from him.

“Bin?” you softly called for him as soon as you picked up.

“We found a bassist. We're practicing real hard since we really need to get it together. We're finished now, but we'll be back in the studio in a few hours. The bassist —she's great.” you nodded to yourself as you listened to him.

You didn't want to be that type of girlfriend, but you badly wanted to ask who this 'she' is. “Oh, who is she?”

“A freshman —so, how have you been?” Wonbin seemed to be speaking a little faster than normal.

You started to wonder whether he even truly wanted to talk to you in the first place. It took you a while to reply to him, you were once again stuck with such overwhelming feelings, having the need to jot them all down.

“Y/n?” 

“Bin—”

“You must be tired. Let's talk tomorrow, yeah? I'll call you when I wake up. Rest, beautiful.” 

Your eyes paced around everywhere. “I'm sorry Bin.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it's me who should be sorry.” he remained quiet for a while and you could slightly hear his breathing.

“Goodnight Bin. Please sleep well.” the hand that held his phone trembled slightly at the dim symphony of your voice. 

“Goodnight Y/n.” he weakly replied before letting you go and ending the call.

On your bed, you lie on your back, eyes wandering the ceiling as if there were more to the tiny cracks and the dormant light bulb. Unable to bring yourself to a slumber, you got up and went to your desk. 

You laid out your journal, opening to a fresh page. You let the tip of your pen hover over it for a few minutes, before you let it all go. 

We started off in such a nice place,

We were talking the same language.

A teardrop would make its way onto the paper, causing the ink of your pen to smudge.

You weren't meant to finish this song just yet.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was finally the day of the competition you've long awaited. You hurried to the front seats, excited to see him perform, to hear his fervent voice, excited to just be able to see him again.

When there were others performing onstage, you tried peeping at the back, or somewhere behind the stage where you'd spot him. You were never able to, not until they were up next. 

He saw you and waved. You waved back, hesitant as their new bassist appeared beside him. 

They looked�� perfect.

You zoned out. Your head would start blocking off the music, and all you could hear was your weak heart. You felt conflicted, the first time it palpated like this, it was for good reason, but now, it seems to be the opposite. 

When it was their turn to perform, you watched as they exchanged looks. Their charisma shook your core, and suddenly, you hated yourself for not knowing how to play bass.

You watched, and Wonbin would lay his eyes on you as he sang —but it within a span of a few seconds he fixed his gaze on the bassist, as they once again gave each other looks that made you sink into your seat. 

After their performance, you would find yourself clapping, standing up like everyone else, the only difference being that you were crying. Wonbin saw, but he couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or something else. 

They would be announced champions by the end of the day, and you couldn't be more proud. Wonbin would find you in the crowd, smiling as he slightly waved the trophy in his hand. You smiled back, just happy with what he's achieved. But you couldn't help but notice that something in the air was changing.

Later that night, Wonbin took you with him to their celebratory dinner. He held your hand tight, caressing your skin with his thumb as you both entered the restaurant. 

His bandmates were already seated nicely and the only seats left were ones next to their drummer, and the other, next to the bassist. When they saw you, their bassist would move next to the drummer, and Wonbin would sit across from her, with you next to him.

You were happy that they were all happy, and while eating, you would get over your thoughts from earlier. 

Your smile would slowly dissipate into the unmindful air feeling Wonbin's grasp becoming looser and looser as time flew by.

You looked over to him, and you saw the sweetest and most seraphic smile you've ever seen him wear. It was just a shame that it was not because of you. 

You grew insecure in your seat, the space you occupied shrinked by the second as you watched how differently their eyes reacted to one another —how different it was compared to how he looked at you. 

“Bin, I need to go home.” you touched his shoulder to get his attention.

He quickly turned his head to look at you. “Oh, I'll take you home—”

“No.” You spoke a little louder than intended. “Sorry, no need. I'll get going now, I have things to finish.” 

You stood up, expecting him to grab your hand to stop you as you walked away towards the exit. But he didn't. 

Were you asking for too much now? or are you just not enough anymore? 

You took slow and miniscule steps, waiting for a taxi to pass by. Once it did, you got in, feeling so dejected that your voice cracked when you gave the taxi driver the address to your dorms. 

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe you're just not used to him being as smiley and as lively as he was around other girls that weren't you. It had been like that since the beginning of your relationship, and yet you felt as if you had no right to doubt him.

By the end of the day, you'd be back at your desk, tear-filled, feebly writing down,

You can't stand the thought,

Of a real beating heart you'd be holding...

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n! we got a record deal!” 

The thrill, the excitement, it all rushed through Wonbin, in his blood. He had called you early in the morning after receiving a call from a recording label.

“That's great, Bin.” Wonbin's smile would die out with the tone of your voice.

“Hey, are you okay?” he suddenly thought about the previous night with you, two nights ago.

“Yeah. I've just been really busy. Congrats Bin!” he bit his bottom lip, staring into nothing feeling your frailty.

“I'm coming to visit you.” he says nonchalantly.

“You don't have to Bin, I'm really b—”

“I can help—”

“Wonbin.” —silence.

You never called him 'Wonbin' throughout the entirety of your relationship, even when the two of you would argue. It left a stinging pain in his heart. “Y/n.”

“I'm sorry Bin. I know you have your own stuff going on so would you please jus—”

“Was this about the other night?” despite your efforts to respond, not a single word came out of you. “Look, I don't even know why you left, why don't you communicate things with me anymore?”

Fear. You feared this tone of his that you never thought he'd take out on you. You feared the eyes you could not see, glaring at your phantom in his studio. You feared his heart, his heart that would no longer yearn for you even if you called for him. You feared losing him.

“Y/n, speak to me. Please.” urgency was apparent in his voice, but you could also hear his disappointment.

“How? Tell me how, Wonbin.” you would break as his name fell off your lips, your tears falling down to your blanket that reeks of his scent. “I don't fucking know how, okay?”

From this moment on, you were able to see just how flawed your relationship truly is. Behind all the affections, you two were just too different. Sometimes, different can be good —there's a thing they call 'opposites attract'— but sometimes, people don't need different. 

It was not that the two of you stray far from each other's passions, heck, it was your passion that brought the two of you together. But rather, it was your values that contrasted with each other. 

He thought you were just as infatuated as he was, all the while you were thinking that you were all he needed.

Yes, he was the most comfortable with you, but his happiness was not you. He felt relieved by your touch, your voice —but he would never admit that that is all it was for him, a sense of relief and nothing more. 

He was thankful for everything you've given him, all the comfort, the nagging for him to take care of himself, the photos you've taken of him and hung on your little cork board, and the songs. He was genuinely touched and couldn't believe that you could get any more incredible than you already were. 

Unfortunately, you thought more of him, memorizing every bit of him, his physique and his very psyche. 

You two would resolve your argument, temporarily. 

He would begin to visit you again regularly, and take you to their studio, a new one, one that would be in a bigger building. And just like that building, everything was different. 

Your whole life, you've learned to fight change, to adapt with ease, but this was one you did not want to adapt into. It was one you wanted to escape.

You missed the way his fingers would play with the shorter strands if your hair that rested at the sides of your head as he rests himself on you. You missed the warmth in his voice, and now it was all fading into nothing. That fire in your hearts that you lit up for each other, it was slowly dying out. 

It was painful to be aware when you were still so in love, when you still saw the same Wonbin that one fateful day at the park. 

You knew that he knew. During his visits to your dorm room, he'd often doze off, and would lazily leave sloppy kisses to your lips, that would slowly become light pecks on your cheek, and soon nothing. 

When he took you to his studio, he would be practicing, and she'd be there too. You would be in your own little corner, writing your songs. 

“Hi Y/n, what are you up to in there?” she would ask, peeking at your journal.

“Oh, I'm writing songs.” she was a nice person, but she was also the reason for the falling out of your relationship, it was crystal-clear.

“You should seriously consider showing some to the producers around here. I feel like they'd love your work.” as nice as she sounded, you felt sick in the stomach, just like how those stupid moon photographs made you feel.

She and Wonbin, they were both like the moon, just letting others take in all of their physiognomy, all of their beauty. They remain unmoved, as if they're the pillar to everybody's constancy. 

They fit each other. —you thought to yourself as you kept writing.

I never could rely on you,

And a few times your face came into view, 

Into view.

I'm not into you,

Into you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It's been a good while since you've cut ties with him. You found it amusing how surprised he was with how you responded to his notion.

“I don't think we should continue being together, Y/n.” he blinked a few times, not having the heart to look into your eyes like he used to anymore.

“Yeah, I know.” you were so blunt with everything that he couldn't believe that it was really you who was speaking to him. “I'll bring you the stuff you left at my dorm. I'll just leave it here.”

You were in their studio, where he had asked you to meet him.

“I could just get it myself—”

“I'll spare you the trouble Wonbin.” you were so cold, it sent shivers down his spine. You were no longer the intelligent and timid girl he knew. “It's great to know you've been feeling the same way all along, if not, I would've felt bad for ever doubting you.”

A single tear would escape his eye, and he'd wipe it away before you could see it. 

“Thank you for…” you fished for his gaze, and you would catch it like never before. “...everything.”

You went out of their studio and started making your way out of the building with your journal in hand. 

The journal. It was full of him. From polaroids and sketches, to the lyrics that brought you to where you are. 

You were glad he finally came to his senses, that he was the one to break it up. If he never did, it would've taken you ages to blurt it out, or maybe you never would've done it. 

As your feet followed the same path you took going in, you could feel the hot tears flowing continuously. The last you would see as you stepped out of the building was her. Worry was written all over her face as she called for you once, twice. You looked back at her for an agonizing and very few seconds before completely turning your back from her.

That day was excruciating for you. You could only imagine, he already had her to comfort him, and you? you were still in the same spot, pouring all of your feelings out into a song. 

After a few lengthy months of practicing with your guitar, you were able to make a full song.

You recorded it within the confines of your dorm room. You were again satisfied with your work. It was a simple, homey video. Your voice was as soft as the clouds, and your presence was like that of the sun, bright, shining against the woe of your heart.

You posted the video to YouTube, even providing them with the lyrics you've put your whole heart into in the description box. 

At first, you didn't really think you'd get as much as fifty views, three likes and maybe one petty dislike. Either way, you didn't really care. It was the least of your worries at the time. 

You were planning to move back to Media Arts, in spite of him. You moved courses because of him, and now you are moving back another step for it. 

Though, your plans would be halted when you were approached by a deceptive man —what made him deceptive? you may ask, well, you would've never thought that this man worked for the same recording label that your ex was in.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Okay, miss. I'm Jung-Sung-Chan. I've been in the xxxx label for two years now. So, I saw your song—”

“And what about it?” your voice was stern, and it seemed as though it was atypical for him as it did not match your appearance at all.

“So, there's this band, don't know if you've heard of them—”

“Is it 'Everiizing'?” he was flabbergasted with how you just kept cutting him off when he was supposedly the one to be intimidating you.

“Uh, yeah.”

He would go on to explain how the band had been struggling to come up their next hit single and they needed it by the end of the month. You told him off by saying that you'd think about it, and think about it, you did. 

It was quite funny, Wonbin would be the one singing since he was the vocal of the band, and he would be singing a song that you wrote and composed about him and the fallout of your relationship.

But you also thought, maybe this was a start for your own career. Maybe after this, you'd be a well known song writer, credited in every hit song in the charts. 

You would call Sungchan back and tell him you've made up your mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So I started to think 'bout the plans I made,

The debt unpaid.

And you just can't call a spade a spade.

Wonbin read through the lyrics of their supposed upcoming single. He couldn't help but feel… familiar. The style of writing, the choice of words, he feels like he'd seen it all before, and he'd felt it all once upon a time. 

“The writer is Y/s/n Y/n.” Wonbin's breath hitched, very subtly that he was the only one that heard. “I saw her on YouTube —that's where we discovered that song. She agreed to sell it to us.”

“The song is on YouTube?” Wonbin asked as he grabbed his phone from the table in front of him.

“Yeah, that's what I said.”

He searched for your name, and there it was. He hurriedly tapped on your video, and watched, and listened. 

You never changed in his eyes. You were still as mesmerizing as you were when he could still have you in his embrace, or when you'd massage his hair.

“So what do you think?” he ignored Sungchan and kept his eyes and ears on his phone, following every note and every strum. 

“Wonbin?” —for a minute, he thought it was you who called for his name, but then he looked up.

“Paige.” he responds to their bassist. 

“I listened to Y/n's song. It's really a masterpiece, I say we try recording it now.” Paige, with pure excitement, would cling onto Wonbin, and he would look at her the way you would want him to look at you.

Sungchan knew, because you had told him everything. It was weird to tell a stranger about these things, but if he was buying your song, he should at least know the story behind it, right?

That day, Wonbin would record his vocals for the song, and Sungchan would be there to monitor. Wonbin seemed so emotional. He must've realized what the lyrics truly meant, and it punched him right in his guts. 

This is all she's been feeling huh —he uttered in his mind as he fought back his sorrow.

Sungchan had spared you the details of everything that went down in the recording, and soon they would release their own version of the song, and it would be theirs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“...we have 'Everiizing', to perform their new hit single, 'Tek It'!”

You were once again, at the same seat you'd always be when he performed, but this time, you were happy. It was your creation being recognized and loved by many. Its story will remain in your memories forever, but it will never cause resentment.

You couldn't help but smile and just enjoy the music. They were the same —if not better than before. Wonbin and Paige were truly a different story. They seem to be doing great. You had no idea if they actually got together, but you didn't care. 

There was a lingering feeling for sure, but it would fall weak knowing that you have a line of opportunities ahead of you, and so did Wonbin and his band.

After their performance he would go on to acknowledge your presence, giving you credit for writing and composing such a beautiful song, though of course, he would never say you were his ex and you wrote it about him.

You two would meet again backstage, for the first time in almost a year.

“Y/n.” you smiled, not for the same reason as you would with him, it was because he failed to have the same effect on you as he did before, and it brought your mind to peace.

“Wonbin.” he would smile back, but it was quite not like himself.

He was a lot more tentative. “I'm guessing you've been well.”

You nod at him and say, “I could say the same about you.”

“So, will you continue to work under xxxx?” he asked hesitantly.

“You know I would never do that even if things ended a little better.” he would drop his smile as he listened to you speak. “I'm moving to Sungchan's label. He's starting one of his own. Might consider being an artist myself, but for now I'll finish my studies.”

Wonbin was once again fascinated with your strong will, it was something he thought he could learn from you, but as soon as forever was promised, it would disintegrate right before your eyes. 

The promises of making songs together, singing them together, performing them with your souls intertwined. They were nothing but long gone.

Wonbin is the moon, and you're the sun. The two are never meant to meet, or to even be close to each other. Being opposites was never a problem, it was because you two had different understandings of what it meant for you to flourish and shine, what your purpose is in this world and how you would salvage it —it is the sad tale of the serene but incredibly fallible moon, and the ravishing sun, that's just as tainted.

And there would be no more eclipses to follow. 

I never thought we'd see it through.

So long nice to know you, I'll be moving on.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

happy hearts day <333

[errorryx]

shitty batman fanfiction

So AO3 went down last night, and my friend @armyanimal156 was in the middle of a fanfiction and couldn’t finish it, so I offered to finish it for him. I used my vague understanding of comic book storytelling from my brief Marvel comics phase in 2019, plus the very minimal knowledge i picked up from some of my mutuals' posts, to assemble this nonsense. This is Damian What’s-his-face’s Journey of Self-Discovery, originally typed out stream-of-consciousness into Discord and then edited into a more digestible format.

Please for the love of god understand that this is not my usual writing style and also I'm not in this fandom and don't know shit about fuck. This is just a very long shitpost. ok enjoy

—

Damian, the newest Robin who was raised by assassins, was about to go on a journey to atone for his sins. He used Batman’s credit card to buy himself plane tickets to Eurasia and Africa, because there was a package deal he saw online or whatever. He decided to fly economy because he had self-esteem issues and thought he didn’t deserve first class.

He arrived in Eurasia, which in DC comics universe is the name of a small country in the continent of Syrup. Unfortunately, when he saw who was waiting for him at the airport, he was shocked.

“Mom?” Damian said. “Dad? Other Mom? That one guy?”

That’s right, it was the four assassins that raised him. The comics didn’t mention the other two assassins, Dad and Other Mom, because they weren’t relevant to the other stories being told. He calls his grandpa “that one guy.” This definitely isn’t someone poorly retconning comic canon into the fic after being told new information or anything like that.

“Yes, Damian, it’s us,” said Other Mom (that’s her legal government name). “We need your help. We’re going to assassinate the President of the United States.”

“No way,” Damian said. “I’ve changed. I fight for justice now.”

“Is that so?” that one guy said. “Then you should know that the President of the United States is actually evil and deserves to die.”

Damian wasn’t sure if he could believe that one guy, because he was a supervillain. But he decided to trust him just this once. He went and found the President of the United States, who was on a diplomatic mission to the small Syrupean nation of Eurasia, and shot him point blank on live television, Joker-movie-style.

Thankfully for Damian, that one guy was telling the truth: the president was evil and everyone had been secretly hoping for someone to assassinate him. People celebrated in the streets, and Batman and Tim and Drake and whoever else called and told him he did a good job. Even better, his mom patted him on the back and told Damian she was proud of him, which made him feel somewhat better about his childhood trauma.

Then, the president came back as a zombie who was impervious to bullets and wanted to eat everyone’s brains. Everyone was very upset about this, including all four of his assassin parents, and Batman, and Drake and Josh. Damian decided his best bet was to run away from his problems instead of facing them like a man, so he used his plane ticket to Africa and escaped.

—

The plane landed in Africa, which in DC comics universe is a small island nation in the Specific Ocean. Damian had never been to Africa before, but it was a popular tourist destination for its pristine beaches and overpriced coconut cocktails. However, after arriving on the island, he quickly learned that everything was owned by a mysterious billionaire known as Bruce Wane, Bruce Wayne’s twin brother who has never been mentioned in the comics before because he wasn’t relevant to any of the stories being told.

After some investigating, Damian learned that Bruce Wane was secretly a supervillain who terrorized the island, who went by the name of Badman (like Batman, but bad). Badman had a sidekick named Robbin. When Damian went up against this pair, Robbin pickpocketed him.

“Hey!” Damian complained. “I saw that! Don’t steal my stuff!”

“Damian,” Badman said in a fake deep voice, Dark Knight-movie-style. “If you want your wallet back, you have to join me. You can be Robbin 2.” Robbin looked upset about this, but didn’t say anything.

“No way, bitch,” Damian said (he gets to say swear words because of his childhood trauma). “Batman is way cooler than you.”

Badman took a few steps back and did a triple backflip. “Bet your stupid Batman can’t do that.”

Damian had to admit that Batman could not do that. “Fine, you win. I’ll join you.”

He followed Badman and Robbin to the Badcave (like the Batcave, but bad). Badman began explaining his plan to take over the world by dropping a bunch of badbombs (like batbombs, but bad) on top of the small island nation of Africa and then the rest of the world.

“That’s a really cool plan,” Damian said. “Can I have the password to your computer? I want to play Roblox.” BECAUSE AS IT TURNS OUT THIS KID IS LIKE TWELVE YEARS OLD HOLY SHIT WHY IS HE FIGHTING CRIME. WHY IS HE ASSASSINATING PEOPLE. WHAT THE FUCK MAN???

So Badman gave Damian the password to the badcomputer (like the batcomputer, but bad), which was, of course, “nanananananananabadman” and gave him unsupervised internet access.

Of course, Damian immediately hacked into the mainframe and set off every badbomb in the badwarehouse (like the batwarehouse, but bad). The Badcave exploded and everything was ruined. Then, Damian revealed that when Robbin was busy pickpocketing him, he was actually pickpocketing Robbin at the same time! He opened Robbin’s wallet and looked through his stuff.

As it turned out, Robbin’s ID picture looked the same as Damian’s, because they were secret TWINS and CLONES and TWIN CLONES. Robbin’s real name was Damien with an E. 

Robbin looked very sad, and he asked Damian if there was a way he could learn to be good instead of bad. “I could take you back to Batman,” Damian suggested. “You could be Robin 2. Actually, more like Robin 27 at this point.”

“That sounds great,” Robbin agreed, and they flew back to Gotham City together.

—

“Jesus Christ, not another one,” Alfred said when they got back.

Batman just shrugged and said, “This might as well happen.”

“It’s going to be really confusing around here if there’s two Damians,” Cass (one of them is named Cass right? or Cath? idfk) said. Everyone decided to call Damian with an e “Dame” and Damian with an a “Ian.” This detail was included despite the fact that it never came up again.

They turned on the news, which was conveniently at the beginning of a report about Badman, who had miraculously survived the explosions. He had now teamed up with the zombie president and vowed to destroy Batman and his league of child soldiers.

The zombie president staged a hostile takeover of the American troops, which was easy because the guy who replaced him was a wimpy loser. Soon the entire US Marines were outside Batman’s house, which apparently isn’t the first time this has happened, but this time they had all been turned into zombies. Which also isn’t the first time that’s happened. Writing an original plotline in DC comics is probably impossible.

So began the epic battle between Batman’s orphanage and the zombie marine corps.

Everything was going well for the good guys, but then Damian got into trouble. It looked like he was about to get seriously injured, until Damien jumped in front of him at the last second to save him, only to get bit by one of the zombies and become infected.

Soon enough all the zombies were defeated, but it didn’t feel like a victory, not when the twinclone kid they met ten minutes ago was dying in front of them.

“Listen, everyone,” Damien said, while slowly turning green (the color of zombies). “I know we just met each other, but the ten seconds of kindness I got from you were better than the entire rest of my incredibly traumatic life. So please, don’t mourn me. Put me out of my misery, and go save the world in my honor.”

Damian nodded and lifted his gun. “I was raised by assassins, in case anyone forgot,” he said. “I can do what needs to be done.” He proceeded to shoot Damien in the head.

But it didn’t do any damage at all, because as previously stated, zombies are impervious to bullets. So Damien finished turning green and stood up. “Please don’t eat our brains!” one of those other batkids said.

“Huh,” Damien said. “I don’t really want to eat anyone’s brains. I think I’m fine, actually.”

As it turned out, the zombie virus didn’t induce the desire to eat brains. The president and the entire US marines were just like that.

So the entire group hunted down Badman and the President and dropped batbombs (like badbombs, but not bad) on top of their heads, and they both exploded into one zombillion pieces.

Everyone lived happily ever after, and Damian now had a twinclone zombie brother and felt a lot better about his childhood trauma.

The end

—

bonus: more discord screenshots from last night for additional context, featuring my other friends @diligently-metastasizing (dyke lego homer) and @avloki-pal (wet ghost cat)

[sayonara363]

Headcanons for Bellion

Because why not?

-Bellion is an angry little feral dog when he is with Ashborn. When he is with Jinwoo he turns into the most behaved dog who knows 300 commands and does them perfectly.

-Bellion is the parent who was left with a custody of a child (Jinwoo) he did NOT expected.

-Bellion is the one that curses out loud and Ashborn is there to close his mouth.

-Jinwoo likes Bellion’s wings.

-Bellions and the shadow angels (and actually what are they named?) adore Jinwoo. To such extent they just randomly pet him on the head.

-Bellion liked Igris when he joined the shadow army. Then he proceeded to beat him to make him stronger. Tough love.

-Bellion is a pilot of a jet without a license.

-Thomas likes Bellion. Bellions couldn’t care less about Thomas. Thomas thinks he is so badass for walking the whole way up to Jinwoo stand before him for a few seconds and then drop to one knee still looking badass.

-Bellion can casually grab a dragon by its tail.

-Bellion tried to ride a horse like Ashborn but failed miserably.

-Bellion was the one that made Jinwoo’s armour when fighting woth monarchs.

-Bellion in the end still succeeded on making a flag for the shadow army and Jinwoo even approved it.

-Bellion doesn’t like fistfighting.

-Bellion couldn’t care less about many people but he cares a lot for the shadow soldiers despite being harsh on them.

-Bellion showed Beru his tough love. Igris could be seen happy that he did his time.

-Bellion is chill.

-Bellion likes to see how Jinwoo sleeps.

-Jinwoo made a photo with every single one of the shadows he named personally. The exception being Bellion. And also the three dragons due to them throwing a tantrum.

-Bellion made a system that when a certain shadow becomes really really strong it gets a new name from their liege. Jinwoo needed a lot of time to think of names. But just so you know when Jinwoo got really desperate, there are shadows named after the national level hunters.

-Beru tried introducing Bellion to history kr dramas but Bellion was more interested in the European Middle Ages.

-Bellion has tea partys with Igris

-Bellion doesn’t miss Ashborn to an extreme degree. Not because he doesn’t care about him but because he learned to let go of things way faster than Ashborn ever did.

-Ashborn never really told his real name to Bellion.

-Bellion was on ruler’s side.

-Bellion sometimes grateful that Jinwoo isn’t completely like Ashborn despite their similarities.

-Bellion likes to tell stories and the only one who hears through all of them is Jinwoo and Ashborn.

-Bellion thinks that Ashborn just needed more time to realise that Absolute being was bad. Rulers didnt give him enough time to process all of it.

BONUS!!!

Hear me out on Bellion- *gets stared at

Wh- what??? Have you seen that man???? That gentle smile??????

But yea I threw angst on the end. And also Bellion is such a cool character why we don’t have more about him? AGH!

Also Ashborn was created by Absolute being or from this world tree? Because I think that Ashborm was created by absolute being personally and Bellion was born from the world tree

[bitchysoulwasteland]

Thranduil x Modern Soulmate Reader

Word Count: 3,367

Thranduil had always wondered who his soulmate was. But, that didn't apparently matter to his father, who insisted that he married a princess, to strengthen Mirkwood's power. He knew certain bits and pieces about his soulmate. For example, they liked music as they were always humming some tune that only he could hear. Their favourite song was called 'Keep Yourself Alive' by a band apparently called Queen. He also knew that, due to the fact soulmates could see each other's dreams, they did not hail from Middle Earth. 

He thought he knew his soulmate well, until one night, he was pulled from his own dream and into a nightmare of war. It was night, he could tell that much. Everything had an eerie green glow as his soulmate looked through an eyepiece for any threats. Within seconds, it went from quiet to deafening. Guns blazed around as a man diffused something. Shots fired from his soulmate hit their mark, even in the darkness. The man jogged back to them, the soldiers regrouping and getting into the vehicle. As his soulmate turned their back, they were hit by something in their right shoulder.

"We need medics at base, a.s.a.p. Sergeant Y/n L/n has been hit. Bullet wound to the shoulder. I repeat, Sergeant Y/n L/n has been hit." A woman's voice spoke over radio. Other shouts for medical treatment echoed in the small space, but, everything was muffled as shouts of 'stay with me, Y/n!' were herd various times.

"Don't you dare die on me, Y/n. This group has been through way too much to lose its best woman." The same female voice said as his soulmate's eyes fell closed.

That was when he woke up, in a cold sweat, his covers in the floor. He moved his hair out of his eyes as he looked around him. He was safe and sound. He worried about his soulmate, searching his brain for her name. The name he had herd when she had been hit. Y/n. Sergeant Y/n L/n. He scribbled her name on a piece of paper and put it on his bedside cabinet for later. 

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You woke up in a medical bay, not really any memory of what had happened. You remembered shots. You turned your back and felt as though you had been punched in the back. Adrenaline had kept the pain at bay, now, unfortunately, it had worn off. You tried to sit up as you saw the Lieutenant Colonel walk through the door of the tent. 

"Don't get up, Sergeant. I just wanted to give you this." He handed you a letter from HQ. "I also want to thank you for your service to the nation. You've done immensely well. You should be proud." You knew he had herd about your resignation from the Army, probably from HQ. You also knew that although he pretended to be cold, he was actually a nice person on the inside. 

"Thank you, sir." You said. 

"Good luck with civilian life, Y/n. I mean it. Bluestone 42 won't be the same without you. As you were." 

"Thank you, sir." You said as he walked out of the tent with a nod. 

Six weeks of recovery and a day of travelling later, you were unlocking your London house, after two years of not touching it. You put your bags by the door, took off your uniform cap, coat and boots, leaving them beside your bag, before turning the electric back on, by the meter, along with the water and central heating. You put the kettle on and flumped onto the sofa, exhaustion draining from your body. No sooner had the kettle boiled was there a knock at the door. Reluctantly, you answered it. You couldn't quite believe what you were seeing. Thranduil. From The Hobbit. Or, at least an extremely good lookalike. 

"May I help you?" 

"My name is Thranduil and I was hoping that you could show me the quickest way back to Middle Earth." You raised an eyebrow in complete disbelief. "I'm only asking as yours was the first house I came across." 

"Hate to break it to you, but as much as I would love for fictional worlds to be real, they're not. Nice costume, though Halloween isn't until October, Barbie." 

"What is this 'Halloween' you speak of, and who is this 'Barbie', mortal?" Okay. Maybe he was the real deal. 

"It's a time when people put up decorations of pumpkins and ghosts, witches, ghouls, goblins and other magical stuff. And Barbie, is a kids toy. She's a doll with long blonde hair." 

"Aside from the toy, why would anyone want to worship goblins?" You saw the hatred. No, disgust in his eyes and remembered the movies. 

"The goblins aren't worshipped. It's about remembering dead relatives. The goblins and all of that are just meant to scare kids. You look freezing, come in. I can't promise a way back to Middle Earth, but I can make a decent meal." You said before hid did so. You closed the door behind him.

"You're very kind to a stranger.." 

"Y/n. Sergeant Y/n L/n." He took off his shoes by the door "Just through here." You noticed the state of his robes. "D'you want me to get you some clean clothes? I should have some somewhere." 

"What's wrong with my royal robes." He stated, matter of factly as he stood in his socks, still looking regal.

"You can't really go walking around on earth in robes, mate. You'll be a laughing stock. Besides, they're muddy." You walked upstairs as he followed close behind. You walked into your bedroom and began looking for the clothes. You went in your drawers and pulled out a stonewash blue Guns n Roses t-shirt, passing it to him. Then, you found the birthday presents that you had never given your family, as you had signed up for service. A navy blue hoodie and black denim jeans, along with a leather belt. The bathroom is just across there. You said as he went to go and change. You noticed that you were still in uniform, so you swiftly changed into jeans, a Queen t-shirt and a grey Rolling Stones hoodie.

You walked out of the room at the same time Thranduil did. "Where would you like me to put these?" He asked as you took the sight in. He looked hotter than you'd seen him on the films in normal clothes. And the hoodie and jeans were doing everything for his look. He looked at you, slightly surprised at how good someone could look in such simple clothes. 

"Erm, just leave 'em on there and I'll was them for you." You said, gesturing to the wash basket. He placed his folded clothes on the basket. "So, what kind of food do you like?" You asked as you both walked downstairs and into the kitchen to see what you had got, food wise. 

"I don't mind. In Mirkwood, we usually have majority of Middle Earth's cuisines." Ok now he was just showing off. You looked in fridge, freezer and the cupboards, but other than some icicles and some cups, there was nothing. 

"I haven't been here in about two years since I went in the Army. We could order food in?" You tried the house phone, which had been disconnected. "Let's go out to eat." You said as you grabbed your keys from the shelf above the kitchen counter. The pair of you walked to the door. You slipped your converse on as he put on his boots. Luckily, the trousers covered most of the shins of them. Thranduil was about to undo the door when you stopped him. "C'mere. If you have your hair like that, someone's bound to notice you're not human." You said as he stepped closer to you, so you were face to chest, due to his height. You got up on the bottom step behind him. You tied his hair in a low bun before stepping in front of him to tease a few strands to cover the points of his ears. "Perfect." You whispered as you locked eyes with him, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him right then and there. You cleared your throat as a blush made its way across your cheeks. "We should be going." You muttered, not trusting your own voice. 

On the walk around the path to your car, he slipped his hand in yours. You looked at the floor, trying to hide your face, by instinct. Thranduil stopped walking. You stopped a foot after him. He turned you so you were looking at him. "I've waited years to meet you, Y/n. I've never met anyone like you. This is probably premature, but, I love you." He whispered before he lent in and kissed you. You didn't have to stand on your toes with him. His arms pulled you closer by your waist as yours went around his neck. Images of both of your pasts flashed before both of your eyes. He was the one. Your soulmate. You had only ever been told that you would see images of each other's pasts. You didn't think it was true, until then. After what felt like a lifetime, you pulled away for air. 

"I love you too, Thran." He smirked at the nickname you gave him, a smile on your own lips. You felt something fall on your head, and within moments, you were standing out in the pouring rain with Thranduil. "This is gonna be so cliché, but, wanna dance in the rain?" You asked as you took his had and led him to the middle of the now empty car park. Holding you close, you both waltzed around the area, until a car horn pulled you from the romantic moment. You both ran to your car and you unlocked it as you both opened the doors and got into the dry. "That was the most fun I've had in ages." You breathed as you ran a hand though your wet hair. Turning the engine on, you began to drive. Noticing the time, you had a better plan than to drive to a fancy restraint that you could undoubtedly not afford. Houses and buildings fell back from the scenery as you drove along the M25 from London. Soon enough, you found a service station. You went into the McDonalds Drive Thru and ordered two Big Mac meals and two McFlurries. 

Half an hour later, you were back on the road again.

Thranduil couldn't help but stare at you as he took in your features. Your h/c hair was curling slightly at your temples, from being wet. Your e/c eyes gleamed as you watched the road whilst talking to him. 

"So, back in Middle Earth, what do you do?" 

"I'm prince if Mirkwood. I ride elks and horses and I have to attend the most boring gatherings ever." 

"So, the usual royalty stuff then." You laughed. "All heirs and graces, yeah?" You said in a faux posh accent.

He couldn't help but laugh along with you "Something like that, yes, meleth." He watched how your laugh lit up your features "What do you do?"

"Well, I was an aspiring singer and dancer. But, I couldn't get any roles or attention from the big names I needed to. I was loosing money, fast. I was on the brink of loosing everything. The house, this car. So, I found an option. I joined the army and became an ATO in Afghanistan. It wasn't the first choice, or the cosy one, but it was to help people, and to help myself." He looked at you sympathetically but blankly as you figured he wouldn't know what you were talking about after the word ATO. "Bomb disposal." He still looked at you blankly. "I was a soldier. Until I resigned." 

"What made you resign?"

"Job lost its appeal, I s'pose. I tell you what, if I had the gift of foresight I wouldn't have made half of the mistakes I did." You drove I silence for a while, until your SatNav tells you that you have reached your destination. You parked the car on the seafront and got out of it before locking it. "I hope you like the sea, your highness, cos here we are. The White Cliffs Of Dover." You put a blanket over the bonnet and sat beside Thranduil. You then pulled the corners of the large blanket over you both, his arms pulling you into his lap. 

"It's beautiful." He said, resting his chin on your shoulder as you leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, watching the sunrise over the sea. 

When the sun had risen higher, you spoke again "Y'see that dark line on the horizon that starts there and ends just there," you pointed "that's France. There's a song about these cliffs. And a story. When pilots were flying back to England during the Second World War, they would look for these cliffs and know that they were home." You didn't say anymore, instead, you began singing.

"There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see I'll never forget the people I met Braving those angry skies I remember well as the shadows fell The light of hope in their eyes And though I'm far away I still can hear them say "Thumbs up!" For when the dawn comes up There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see There'll be love and laughter And peace ever after Tomorrow, when the world is free The shepherd will tend his sheep The valley will bloom again And Jimmy will go to sleep In his own little room again I may not be near, but I have no fear History will prove it too When the tale is told It will be as of old For truth will always win through; But be I far or near That slogan still I'll hear "Thumbs up!" For when the dawn comes up There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see

When night shadows fall, I'll always recall Out there across the sea Twilight falling down on some little town It's fresh in my memory I hear mother pray And to her baby say "Don't cry!" This is her lullaby There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see."

Thranduil looked at you with pure adoration as you finished the song. He took off one of the rings he was wearing and put it on your hand. You took your phone out and took a picture of the two of you, the cliffs in the background, made it your lock screen, then took a picture of the sunset before falling asleep in your love's arms.

"That was magnificent, my sergeant." 

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It had been three months since you had woken up alone. You hadn't entirely expected him to be there when you woke up. He had put you in the back seats of your car, the blanket over you. But, what you hadn't accounted for was the loneliness you felt when you woke up alone. You shouldn't have fallen for him. Even if he was the one. The only thing you had left of him was his robes and the ring he gave you. 

To get your mind off of the Elvenking, you went for a walk in your local forest. But, halfway through the forest, you tripped and fell. When you got up, you were no longer where you had fallen. You recognised the all too familiar shadow of the ruins of Dale a few meters before you. You were in the Battle Of Five Armies. Thankfully, the battle had not yet begun. You got onto your feet, noticing the rip in the jeans and the crack in your phone screen as it had fallen from your pocket. You ignored both. If you were in the third Hobbit movie, then that means that you had a chance of seeing Thranduil again. Running as fast as your body would allow, you made it into Dale. You stopped to catch your breath as you looked around you. The people of Laketown were preparing for battle. You silently thanked whoever controlled the universe when you saw armour clad elves. 

You were about to move when shouts came your way. "Oi." You tried to ignore the voice, belonging to Alfred. "We don't want any more beggars 'ere. Or any more wizards or vagabonds." With every word, you took a step away from him. 

"I'm here to see Thranduil. I'm from Rohan. I owe him a great deal of gratitude after he helped save my sister a short while ago from illness and most likely death, and I intend on seeing him to thank him once more." You just hoped that you had sounded convincing enough to pass for an inhabitant of Middle Earth with the whopping lie you just told.

He looked at you sceptically. "Follow me." He said as you did just that. He led you to a yellow tent.

"What do you want now, Alfred?" Bard said in a bored tone. 

"There is a woman here that claims to be from Rohan. She said that the king of Mirkwood saved her sister from death, so she would like to show her gratitude." Thranduil looked up from his wine glass, not remembering doing any such thing. 

"If you touch me with your grubby little mitts once more, I'll be your next big issue." Thranduil herd this as Alfred kept one hand on the woman, who was just out of sight.

"Send her in." Thranduil said, knowing your voice anywhere.

"As you wish." The man stated, pushing you inside the tent, tripping you up in the process, before walking off. 

"Arsehole." You muttered as you dropped your phone for the second time today.

"How do I know that you're my Sergeant L/n?" He gazed at you, as if looking for a fault that you were not the same woman he had been ripped from the arms of by fate and someone's magic.

"I met you on my doorstep, half an hour after I had just got back from being posted in Afghanistan. You stood in front of me and told me who you were. I didn't believe you at first. Until I spoke about Halloween and called you Barbie and you had no idea what I was on about. I offered you food, but then saw I had no food cos I hadn't been back for two years. I tied your hair in a bun. You were wearing the blue hoodie. Then, then went out and danced in the rain until we were soaked. We went to McDonalds and both had a Big Mac meal and McFlurries. We then drove to Dover and I showed you where France was. I sang the White Cliffs Of Dover song as the sun rose. And you gave me this ring." You said as he walked over to you and kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do. You pulled away and spoke "It's only been three months, Thran."

"It's been three thousand years, my sergeant. I don't plan on ever letting you go again. It's not a coincidence that we met twice. Marry me, please Y/n, you've already got the ring."

You looked into his eyes, knowing you were safe "I'll marry you, Thranduil." you smiled as he kissed you once more. 

[ask-ricky-pawtts]

So, what about Cataris? (2018 SABM)

I AM SO SO SI GLAD YOU ASKED!1!1!1!1! AH I LOVE THESE ZOLAR QUESTIONSSS >w<

Cataris was an early edition of Zolar I made while I was still in middle school! Its story is a little more flat than what I have for my ACTUAL plans revolving around Zolar and K9 (named Calissyus for now as a filler name) (will be saved for LATER ASKS!1!!) however a lot of Cataris has been actually revamped a little and added to the story I’m currently working on!

Cataris is one of the several planets apart of the Zolarian star/planet cluster (several planets, seven suns) and its nation is home to the beautiful Queen Nefrititi Bastet III, of course the royal and leader of this sanction of the planet (each planet is ruled by its own governments, leaders, subsections basically! This monarchy on Cataris is one of the higher ups but it isn’t the big boss or anything basically)

Now the plot of this thing with the whole laser is pretty much scrapped due to again I can NAWT keep that many plots down for my story though I might write it as a pre-story thing just for funsies.

However! Nefrititi is very impawtent to Zolarian and Kanitian (K9 people, dogs) lore, and generally speaking her character stays the same.

TLDR without spoiling too much, the Space Age Bachelor man is sent to Cataris by the main Zolarian leaders for information and bla bla bla Nefrititi is kind of suspicious of the SABM because he’s this weird alien human guy so she’s kind of racist/xenophobic to him because she’s heard bad things about humans but after a few games and trials to like prove his worth and stuff they become friends and SABM gets aaaalll the info he needs :3

Sorry to like super duper ramble and stuff but like WOAWHWH I love this question SOOO MUCH THANK UUU !!!! 🐾🐾🐾🐾 I hope that answers everything there!