#like I've been too busy for profound thought

[typingwithmyhandstied]

The Secret Shanghai fandom is NOT dying. Probably unpopular opinion, but I don't even think that's been less posts in the last week or so.

[demusewriter]

I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part I: 11,432k; Part II: 14,297k (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: I apologize for being gone for a year (⭑•͈ 𓎟 •͈ ). While working on this, I suddenly became so busy with college that I decided to put it on hold. Now that I've graduated and started working in corporate, my responsibilities have doubled or even tripled, and I completely forgot to continue this. (◞‸ ◟) However, in the past few days, I've been motivated to finally finish it. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- This was supposed to be in a longer format, but I decided to divide it into two parts so you can take breaks without missing where you left off. Thank you all for patiently waiting! I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. Enjoy!

PART I PART II

Chapter One

You don't know exactly when your dull world was invaded by an unexpected rhythm that made your whole world sway in unending swirling motions.

When did your pulse start to waltz to the beat of an unknown tune, or when did your heart seem to pound louder than before, like a drum heralding the arrival of a marching band.

At first, these sensations frighten you, as you thought you were experiencing early symptoms of heart disease since your heart was not beating normally.

But this unfamiliar heartbeat, the strong and powerful thump of your heart, doesn't hurt; instead, it is sweet, pleasant, and almost comforting.

Then it hit you like an epiphany.

The erratic rhythm of your heart wasn't a medical heart disease at all, but an emotional one.

The strange heartbeat wasn't a signal of a heart condition—it was the throbbing pulse of attraction, of affection, of something you had never felt before:

Love.

A feeling that is often described as an intense, affectionate concern for another individual or object. It is one of humanity's most profound emotions, embedded in both our psyche and our essence.

They said that love's profound complexity underscores its paradoxical nature; you have to—

'pay attention'

—pay attention to recognize it as an emotion that deserves—

'Y/N'

—respect, care and openne—

"Nishimura Y/N!"

Your eyes immediately snapped open when you heard the scream of your name, making you bolt upright from your productive daydreaming.

You quickly blink your eyes to adjust your vision from the blurriness brought on by your deep slumber.

As you tried to shake off the sleepiness, your eyes settled on the person standing in front of the blackboard, brows furrowed, glaring at you with irritation.

You immediately stood up like a soldier from your chair, making a loud screeching noise from the abrupt motion.

"You're not paying attention in my class, Ms. Y/N." Your math teacher pointed out the obvious when she got you caught slacking off in her subject.

Your face burned hotter than a thousand suns, and your ears tingled with embarrassment. The usual supportive wall of the classroom felt like it bows inward, ready to collapse on you.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. K-kim" You bowed as you stammered an apology, voice barely audible.

You kept your head down, feeling the sudden shame creep in your body when you saw everyone in the class watching you.

Their interest was now directed from the perplexing equations on the board to the scene unfolding at the back.

"I expect all of you to respect the time I put into preparing lessons and the class itself. If you have issues staying awake in my class, especially you, Ms. Nishimura," you flinched at the mention of your family name.

"I suggest you try to figure out the equation for resolving that issue before you start learning about algebra," she continued, her gaze firmly locked with yours while her face was void of any emotion.

The snickers from your classmates were almost as unbearable as the chasing glare from Mrs. Kim. She let out a disappointed sigh before deciding to continue the discussion.

You slowly sat back on your chair, still red with embarrassment, knowing that this unforgettable scene would become classroom lore, a tale that would inevitably follow you through the rest of your middle school year.

"Someone stayed up all night reading manga again." Chunso, one of your bestfriend, teases you after the math class ends.

"Is it my fault that her voice sounds like a lullaby?" You pouted while putting all your things in your bag.

Well, it's true.

Mrs. Kim, who had been teaching for thirty good years, had a voice with a subdued resonance, softer than silk yet harder than rock.

It was a perfect lullaby for you when the math equations emerged with her voice, creating a hypnotic sonata of numbers.

"Really?" He deadpanned. "You're going to blame her voice when your thick eyebags already speak for you that you haven't had enough sleep?" he playfully flicked your forehead, making you whine. "You're lucky she didn't put you in detention."

You continued to pursed your lips and decided not to comment on anything since it was really your fault for spending the rest of your night reading Shounen manga until dawn, leaving you only 4 hours of sleep.

And so you thought of sneakily using the time in math class to take a short nap, but that short snooze took you to dreamland, completely sweeping you off from reality.

Then you get caught.

If only the first letter in Chunso's last name is closer to yours, then there's a big chance he'll be your seatmate, which will help you prevent getting caught.

But you were so unlucky, as he was in the front row while you were in the last.

"Oh, what happened to her?" your other bestfriend, Eunhee, asked when she saw you sulking while clinging to Chunso's arm.

Unfortunately, she's not in the same class as you and Chunso, so you all just meet in the hallway every lunch break.

"Got caught sleeping." You hide your face behind Chunso's arm when you feel another wave of embarrassment hit you. You also expected a row of teasing words from her, but instead, you were embraced by a warm arm around your shoulder with a gentle rub on your arm.

"Did you get detention?" You looked up to her and shook your head in response.

"Then there's nothing to be worried about," she consoled, offering you a comforting smile that wipes your shame away.

You let go of Chunso's arm and cling your arms around her.

You wanted the rest of your high school journey to be quiet and unnoticed, your presence a mere ripple in the grand ocean of faces. But, as luck would have it, today you were scolded in front of 35 students.

"Aigoo, my little sister had a rough day." She coos while patting your head gently. Even though she was only four months older than you, she always considered you her younger sibling, as she never had one.

"Yah! Did you tease her about it?" Eunhee's soft voice was quickly replaced with a loud, arrogant one when her attention went back to Chunso.

"I didn't!" Chunso defended, his eyes suddenly finding the floor interesting as he tried to avoid the scrutinizing eyes of his friend.

You felt Eunhee's hand stop patting your head when she sensed that he was lying. Suddenly, Chunso yelped in pain. You looked up and saw her pulling the boy's poor hair.

You let out a giggle at your two friends acting like they were going to make each other bald by snatching each other's hair.

You take hold of their arms and gently remove their holds on both of their hair.

"It's okay, I'm good now," you assured them while softly fixing their messy hair. You might get teased about what happened earlier, but at least it leaves you with a lesson to learn to balance your time to avoid getting sleepy in class.

Your genuine smile partnered with the softness in your eyes removes their worries.

Ever since your friendship bloomed after you helped the two treat their wounds after the incident in your PE class in 4th grade, they have always stuck with you and considered you their precious little sister that they needed to protect.

So, the thought that you might get teased about the humiliating situation concerns them.

"Let's have lunch!" You excitedly exclaim and drag them with you as you cling to their arms.

Chunso and Eunhee shared a look while they let you yank them to the cafeteria, a silent agreement that your lunch is on them to brighten the rest of your day.

After the delightful lunch break that you have with your friends, which they surprise you with a once-a-month sale of bacon croque monsieur in the cafeteria along with a legendary chocolate mousse that makes you jump from happiness, you shortly parted ways with them as you are instructed by your teacher to get some books from the library that will be used in your class activity.

As you walk through the empty hallways, with the crisp pages and musty scent of the books accompanying you, something catches your peripheral vision.

Across the dusty path to your next class, you saw a spectacle unfolding on the bustling football field.

Captivated by the sudden burst of energy from the loud cheering, you rubbed your eyes and squinted through your glasses, pausing your hurried steps.

From your point in the hallway, you can see a group of people energetically playing football, and the scene looks like a small showdown.

You were never the biggest football fan, but you could at least appreciate the smooth precision of their passes.

With a further inspection from your spot, you could make out why a handful of spectators and students are basking in the afternoon sun when you see some of the players wearing the most famous navy blue and white striped jersey.

The group that clad themselves in that jersey were not just average students; they were the revered football team of your school.

The Nightball Team.

Ever since the establishment of the Nightball Team, it has consistently reigned supreme, its renown spreading far beyond the city.

The team is born out of a unique blend of teamwork, discipline, ambition, and a fierce drive for continuous development.

Making them act as an emblem representing not just the school but the principles its students stand for.

Every time the name of your school is mentioned, the Nightball Team is always the first thing that comes to everyone's mind.

That's how famous they are.

Amidst the navy blue and white-soaked jerseys, a certain person caught your attention. His physique was chiseled, his movements defying time as he led the team with an innate confidence that was as charming as it was stirring.

His jersey number 04, clung to his athletic body as he ran, skillfully dodging the opponents while carrying the ball that was tucked in his arm. Each tactical maneuver, every calculated move, displayed an enchanting dance of dominance and tenacity.

Then it happened—Nightball Team scored, erupting a loud cheer from the crowd.

As the dust settled around him, he looked up, his face breaking into a humble, triumphant grin that lit up his eyes.

It was as if the Earth rotated a little slower, distorted only by the increased pace of your heart.

Ah, now you remember when did your heart started to act out like a drum roll, jumping to the beat like a fool.

It was when he humbly acknowledged a job well done, his genuine joy for the game, and the soft crinkles around his eyes as he gently smiled while everyone praised him for scoring the goal.

That was the moment when you felt it for the first time—your stomach fluttering like there was a swarm of butterflies lodged in there, and your heart skipped a beat—for the first time, not for the new volume of Shounen Manga

but for someone else.

A peculiar sensation that only happens because of him.

Only because of him.

Chapter Two

As everyone in the class attempts to pay attention, the warm sunlight flowing through the classroom window did little to improve the class' concentration.

The monotone voice of your teacher talking about some dead men who died in a fight hundreds of years ago slowly puts everyone to sleep.

It was another ordinary Wednesday for the rest of the students, but for you, it was unimaginably extraordinary.

Before, there was no particular day that seemed special for you.

It was all just ordinary that you have to get through—well, except for Sunday, since that's the scheduled release for each chapter of the manga you are currently binge-reading.

However, after you learned that every Wednesday was the Nightball Team's practice in the field, it became a day that you always looked forward to.

The day when you can only see him.

It's unexplainable how his humble smile, which makes his dimples dig deeper into his natural rosy cheeks while his eyes form a crescent moon, can catch not only your attention but also your very young heart.

Maybe you were simply mesmerized by a man who wore the number 04 jersey, even though you didn't know his name.

You tried everything you could to know his name; you tried to dig through the old school newspapers that you sometimes kept to solve the sudoku part and re-read the sports section in the hope his name would be mentioned.

You also tried to go to your school's website, searching for him by using the Nightball Team's name in the search engine, which is always a hot topic on the website, but surprisingly, you were still left wondering what his name was.

The two options that you chose to know who is the mysterious jersey number 04 are the best choices that you could have since that's all you can do.

However, you still have one good option left.

The best option that will surely secure the chance of knowing his name.

But no matter how great this option was, you would rather get embarrassed again in the class than choosing it.

Asking your brother.

Your brother, Ni-ki Nishimura, who is part of the baseball team, is the best option to ask anything about sports, as he has been athletic and very knowledgeable in that area ever since you were both children.

He is a born sports prodigy.

Besides being part of the sports club at your school, he also has a huge number of friends, not only on his team but especially on the football team.

You don't know why, because the last time you checked, baseball and football are different sports, but your brother appears to be much closer to the members of the Nightball Team than his.

He really is the best choice to finally name the one you are admiring if he is not only a pain in the ass.

Despite your family's crowning him a prodigy and naturally talented, he is always the annoying and bloody irritating brother in your eyes.

He will literally make fun of your desperate mission of knowing the name of a particular person on the football team.

Heck, he might give you the wrong name just for fun.

However, that is not the worst thing that might happen if you ask him something that will give him a hint that you have developed a sudden interest in someone, especially if that someone is the opposite gender from you.

He will explode.

Your brother, who is five years older than you, has the tendency to become very protective when it comes to you.

He might be an obnoxious and nosy brother, but he has a soft spot for you that he cannot admit.

He will do everything to protect you, especially your heart, from men.

Therefore, if he finds out that you are growing admiration for someone, especially in the Nightball Team, he will literally ban you from going to the football field.

You sigh as you scribble his jersey number in your notebook while the boring class continues.

The bell signaling the end of the class of the day rang, making your mood reach the ceiling of happiness. The usual fidgeting in your seat to the rhythm of the clock turned into a wild scramble as you packed up your textbooks and pencil case into your bag.

You rush out of the classroom with thoughts of finally watching a football practice occupying your mind.

But before you could fully get out of the room, you felt a tug on your bag forcefully stop you in your tracks.

"What's with the rush?" Chunso asked still holding your bag.

"I-I'm going to the l-library!" You exclaim as you stumble over your words. Your friend's eyes immediately narrowed into slits when he sense you are making excuses.

"What will you do there?" he interrogates, as it was unusual for you to go to the library after class since you were always eager to go back home to spend the rest of your day reading manga.

"To study, o-of course," you said, forcing a smile in the hopes he would buy your alibi. However, it just proved his suspicion that you are hiding some information that you don't want him to know.

"Hmm." Your smile slowly faded when you realized he didn't believe you. You sigh in defeat.

"I promise that I'm not doing anything bad." You raised your pinky at him as an assurance to ease his worries.

Chunso was still observing you, looking for any hint of lying. He then let out a sigh, seeing the sincere look behind your words.

"You promise to message me and Eunhee when you get home," he said, raising his pinky. A big smile made its way into your face, brightening your mood.

Even though Chunso is not entirely convinced to let you go since you didn't tell him the real reason why you don't want to go home yet, he still trusts you that you're not doing anything behind their back that will make them worried.

You tightly cling your pinky to his, sealing it with both of your thumbs touching.

"I promise!"

After saying goodbye to Chunso, you immediately skip your way to the football field with so much giddiness. Each step you take intensifies your excitement as you are finally able to watch the practice match of the Nightball Team without using the view from the hallway.

You spot an empty seat that is secluded from the rest of the bleachers, although it is far away from the field where the players play, it is still enough for you to cheerfully cheer for your jersey number 04 without being noticed.

The crowd suddenly screamed with excitement when the players of the Nightball team showed up on the field. Your eyes started to scan the players, finding the specific person who always filled your sketchbook and slowly became your favorite muse.

It was as if your world had suddenly slipped into slow motion, and all the noises were muted when you saw him walking with confidence in the field—everything but him and his bright smile faded away.

You held your chest when you felt your heart skip again in a beat that only he could make.

Each time he ran across the field, swinging the ball with finesse, you would do a small victory dance in your heart. You watched every move, every goal, every mistake he made, and still supported him while your hand was busy sketching every movement he made and leaving small comments of amazement beside your sketch.

You would also offer whispers of encouragement, muffled applause, and silent woohoo with your heart thumped in silent cheer.

As the sun went down and the practice match ended, you found a sense of fulfillment you had rarely felt before. You hadn't elbowed your way through the fanatic crowd or screamed your lungs out, but something told you that you cheered the loudest.

It feels like you were bewitched by his enchanting display of professionalism and respect for the game, that you always find yourself in the same seat every week, watching him with full admiration in your eyes.

Your heart fluttered as you headed home while reminiscing the practice match you watched earlier, already dreaming of the next Wednesday when you could watch your jersey number 04 playing on the field again.

"Practice match?" Your mom spoke once you entered the house.

She's the only one who knows that you always watch the football practice, as you can never lie to her. Somehow it makes you guilty because your mom thought you were just growing a fascination with that sport, not knowing you're only there for a certain person.

"Yep!" You sneakily grab a slice of fruit in a bowl that your mom passionately peeled and cut into pieces. "But I went to Eunhee's house to do our assignments."

The football match ended much earlier than usual; sometimes it takes two to three hours, but today they concluded the practice for an hour, giving you time to drop by Eunhee's house when she invited you and Chunso to do your homework there, although you three only ended up watching movies instead of doing it.

You were about to get another slice of fruit when your mother gently slapped your hand, stopping you from getting more.

"You're going to be full before you can get dinner. Go to your room to wash up and call your brother; we will have dinner in a minute." She ushered as you pouted and sulkingly went upstairs, making your mom shake her head at your sillyness.

Then she remembered something.

"Ah, bring down your brother's friend as well!!" she yelled from downstairs, muffling her voice in the process as you entered your room, making you not hear the rest of her words.

"Nii-san, we're going to eat" You called outside your brother's room, clad in your blue Cinnamoroll print pajamas after you wash up. 

"Riki-niisan!" You knock on his door repeatedly when he doesn't respond, making your cheeks puff in annoyance. 

"I'm going to your room if you don't come out," you threatened, knowing your brother doesn't like you setting foot in his room. 

You rolled your eyes and barged into his room, kicking the door open.

"Nii-chan! What's taking you so long!?" You screamed at the top of your lungs with both of your hands resting on your hips.

You expect to see him playing PlayStation while wearing his headphones, the reason he couldn't hear you calling because of the noises in the game, but instead, you are greeted with a familiar pair of Boba eyes staring at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, squinting your eyes in the process to get a better look at the person sitting on the chair, as you forgot to wear your glasses.

He's definitely not your brother, as his eyes were sharper, contrasting to the softer eyes of this person in front of you.

You take a step closer to see his face, which is still blurry in your vision.

On the other hand, the boy suddenly felt amused at how you tried to scrutinize him. He couldn't help but chuckle when you got even closer.

You were taken aback when he suddenly let out a soft laugh. His dimples appeared on his left cheek with his eyes turning to a crescent moon.

Your eyes slowly went wide when you finally got familiar with those traits that make your heart do summersaults.

You suddenly felt frozen in your position when it slowly registered to you, who were occupying the study table of your brother, surrounded by papers and textbooks that were neatly organized on top of the desk.

You stumbled aback.

How on earth did your nameless jersey number 4 end up in your brother's room?!

Chapter Three

When God decided to create you, he probably accidentally poured too much embarrassment into your basin of personality, or when heaven decided to shower humiliation, you caught all of it as it became a frequent situation that always happened to you.

What's worse is that it happens in front of a person for whom you are developing intense admiration!

You dove into your bed, your face buried deep in your pillow. You gave a mighty inhale and unleashed a deafening scream into its soft embrace while your feet kicked with frustration.

You can bear to get embarrassed again in front of your classmates while your raging teacher scolds you, but not in front of your jersey number 4!

Your first encounter with him wasn't imagined this way; in fact, you didn't have a plan to talk to or be involved with him because you only wanted to admire him from afar.

Still! You had expected to meet him more decently, not while scrutinizing him with squinted eyes in your printed pajamas!

God! You can't imagine how unpleasant you look with your eyes squinting to make your vision clearer with your nose crunching in the process!

"Y/n-chan" You suddenly stop your antics when you hear your brother calling you outside your room. You stay buried in your pillow waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm hungry. Let's go downstairs to eat." Normally, you would straight-up come out of your room and sprint down the stairs, racing your brother ahead to prevent him from getting most of the food that your mother had prepared.

But now, you just want to stay in your room and pray for it to disappear.

"I'm not hungry," you said with a tinge of lack of enthusiasm in your voice.

Although your voice is quite muffled by your pillow, your brother on the other side of the door can clearly sense that you're not in your usual mood.

His brows furrowed.

Ni-ki's sure that he heard you earlier screaming his name at the top of your lungs while he was in the shower, certainly ready to annoy him again. But now, you're acting like your energy suddenly got sucked out of your whole body.

"Really? Mom cooked Oyakodon." He made sure that you heard the last part, knowing that it was your favorite and that it would be hard for you to refuse not to eat. "If you don't come down at any moment, I'm going to eat all of it."

Ni-ki expected the door to burst open and you to rush down the stairs to prevent him from hogging all the meals for himself; however, he was greeted by a different response.

"Hmm, okay" Your muffled hum is his cue to storm inside your room.

"Okay, what's going on with you, brat?" he demandingly asked. Ni-ki might sound annoyed at your unusual antics, but in reality, he was worried and now started racking his head if he did something that made you upset.

He snatches the pillow where your head is buried when you don't reply to his question, making you groan and kick your feet in annoyance.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" Ni-ki slightly cringed when his voice suddenly sounded soft, wishing you hadn't heard it.

He proceeded to touch your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you had gotten sick, to which you only whined and smacked his hand away. Your brother sighed.

"If you have no plan to eat, at least tell mom. She even made an effort to make a big serving of your favorite dish just for you."

Your body went still at what your brother softly said.

Since childhood, your parents have always reminded you of the importance of being grateful for all aspects of life, especially the food that graces your table.

Having been born and raised in Japan, you've been instilled with a deep reverence for food to express your appreciation for the hard work of the farmers and the dedication of those who prepare your meals.

Out of guilt, you found yourself sitting at the dining table savoring your favorite Oyakodon while trying to resist stealing glances at the person seated across from you, right beside your brother.

If it were any ordinary day, you'd likely be devouring your meal with gusto, prompting your mother's gentle reminders to slow down.

But today was different.

The presence of the boy who made your heart race like a runaway train transformed your mealtime into a royal feast, leaving your brother to cast perplexed glances your way, baffled by your another uncharacteristic behavior.

"Did you like the food, Y/n-chan?" your father asked when he also noticed that you weren't eating as usual. You wanted to scold your father for mentioning your name, as you felt all the eyes, including the adorable boba eyes, looking at you.

You wanted to say something, but you were afraid that when you spoke, his eyes would linger on you, making you feel another wave of shame. So, you nodded in response without lifting your head and continued looking at your food.

Your parents looked at each other with worry in their eyes, wondering what had happened to their precious, bubbly daughter.

You felt a hand gently rubbing against your back, making you look at your mother, who was beside you.

"Go finish your food so you can have a rest. I'm going to make you green tea later to help you feel better, hmm?" You felt your eyes slightly water as your mom gently cared for you.

Your guilt increased as they thought you were feeling under the weather when, in fact, you were just shy and embarrassed because your jersey no. 4 was on the same table as you.

"How about you, Jungwon? Did you like the food?" Your ears perked up as you looked in his direction when your mother called his name.

His name is Jungwon?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and a mix of excitement and giddiness coursed through your veins. The name resonated with you in a way you couldn't understand.

His name could be translated to "garden," a fitting name that perfectly describes the feeling you experience every time you see him.

Comfort.

"It always tastes good, Mrs. Nishimura. Thank you so much for the wonderful meal." He replied genuinely with a smile.

'Always? This isn't his first time here?' You unconsciously frowned.

Jungwon looked your way, making your eyes widen due to the unexpected eye contact. You quickly looked down at your plate to avoid his gaze, feeling your cheeks burn, with a lasting redness that stayed through the end of dinner.

You weren't sure whether you would be happy to return to your room and continue to privately revel in your embarrassment or disappointed that dinner had passed so quickly.

As you helped your mom with the dishes, you overheard Jungwon expressing his gratitude to your father for inviting him to dinner as they arranged the table.

A sign that he was about to leave.

"Can you send Jungwon to the door, Y/n-chan?" Your mother's request caught you slightly off guard. You had the urge to decline and come up with an excuse, but the guilt of lying to your mother again held you back.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding and accepting the request.

A sigh of relief washed over you when your brother also joined you in sending Jungwon off. However, your relief quickly faded when your brother jokingly rushed out the door, leaving Jungwon behind and you alone with him in the genkan as he put on his shoes.

As you stood by the front door, an awkward silence hung between the two of you. You avoided making eye contact, and as Jungwon prepared to leave, you muttered a shy goodbye.

Throughout dinner, Jungwon had been bothered by your quietness and avoidance of eye contact. It led him to believe that he had made you uncomfortable, especially after your encounter with him in Ni-ki's room that made you dash out of your brother's room.

Ni-ki's comment about you acting unusually and not being in the mood for dinner further supported his belief that he had made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight," he softly said, his voice tinged with worry, making your brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I laughed earlier; I didn't mean it in a bad way," Jungwon continued as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He thought that his chuckles over your actions were the reason why you got uncomfortable.

Your heart sank when you realized that your actions during dinner had made him think that you were offended by him and that his presence made you uncomfortable.

You quickly shook your head, desperately wanting him to understand the truth. "No, no, there's nothing to apologize for! I assure you, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just naturally shy."

Relief washed over his face as he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Really? I thought I made you upset."

"Not at all. I just felt embarrassed because I didn't know Ni-chan had a guest, and I didn't greet them properly." You couldn't help but puff your cheeks when you felt another wave of shyness as you looked down at your fiddling fingers.

A smile crept onto Jungwon's face, making his eyes soften. "It's okay, I know you were just surprised. No need to get embarrassed."

A surge of warm feelings engulfed your heart when you heard his gentle reassurance. You really wanted to look at him, but you were afraid that he'd see the redness in your cheeks that reflected your true feelings for him.

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw his hand offered towards you. You try to swallow your fears and find a courage to slowly looked up from his hand to his face.

You could almost hear your heart pound with fervor, like a wild drumbeat in harmony with your emotions, when you saw him closely with a soft expression paired with a gentle smile, making his dimple make another appearance.

"Hello, I'm Yang Jungwon, your brother's friend." Your eyes almost welled up when you realized that he was making you forget the embarrassing first encounter by redoing it as if you had just met each other.

You softly smiled and took his hand in a handshake. You felt a sudden spark of electricity shroud your body because of the contact.

"I'm Nishimura Y/n, Riki-nii's sister." Jungwon's eyes formed into crescent moons when you accepted his gesture of starting over. Although he already knew a little about you because of your brother, it was still nice to finally meet his friend's sister whom the latter always talked about adorably.

"Nice meeting you, Y/n." He started shaking both of your hands as if sealing a deal, making you giggle.

"Nice meeting you too, Jungwon nii-san."

Chapter Four

You thought that your feelings for Jungwon wouldn't blossom any further, but you were proven wrong when you found yourself researching nutritious foods appropriate for a football player that can boost his energy during practice games, instead of focusing on your homework.

Never in your life did you imagine that there would be a day when it's your turn to give someone a gift to show your appreciation, just like your schoolmates in 6th grade used to do for their crushes—a gesture you often found cringy before.

Yet now, you're going to do it as well.

Football season is just around the corner, making the Nightball Team busier with their practice. Hence, you see this as an opportunity to support Jungwon by providing snacks and bottles of energy drinks anonymously.

You know how intensely athletes practice during the game season, as you've witnessed it to your brother.

To help their bodies keep up with the rigorous training, nutritious foods are very essential.

As you stroll around the convenience store with a basket in hand already full of nutritious foods and energy drinks, a colorful message cards and envelopes caught your eyes.

The intricate design of each card and envelopes make your eyes twinkle in delight.

You've been also a fan of stationery items, developing a fascination for collecting envelopes and colored papers that pave the way for another passion—creating a journal with these elegant items.

If not for manga, the excess in your allowance is spent on stationery items.

As you eye the items, a sudden thought crosses your mind, making your heart beat to a now familiar tune that you are slowly getting used to.

You nibble the side of your cheek, contemplating whether it would be worth it.

You close your eyes, slowly taking deep breaths and gathering the confidence to do it.

Now full of determination, you took the cards and envelopes and proceeded to the counter to check out the items.

Your entire night was spent carefully preparing small packages, filling them with nutritious snacks and energy drinks. Along these, you include heartfelt and motivational notes crafted on small cards that you've intricately designed.

The following morning, you found yourself navigating the empty hallway in an unusual early hour while clutching the gift in your trembling hands, your heart pounding with each step.

Reaching Jungwon's locker, you hesitated for a moment, your mind replaying scenarios of what could happen next.

Would someone appear out of nowhere? Would Jungwon catch a glimpse of you?

With a last scanned around the hallway to make sure no one is around, you took a deep breath, reassuring yourself that the early morning cloak of silence was on your side.

Swiftly, you slipped your gift along with the letter into his locker, your hands moving with a kind of precision that only nervous anticipation could bring.

As you put the gifts gently, you feel a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of satisfaction and nervous energy coursing through your veins.

With the deed done, you retraced your steps, leaving behind the token of your affection. The school began to stir with the arrival of students, and you blended seamlessly into the crowd, keeping your secret hidden behind a casual smile.

You wanted to wait and witness Jungwon's reaction to your gift, but fear taking ahead of you as you pondered the possibility that his response might not align with your expectations.

Ultimately, you chose not to proceed and continued on your way to class.

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself on the same bench you sat, watching the practice game just as you always done. The field was buzzing with energy as the players warmed up, their determination evident in every stride they took.

Amongst them, Jungwon stood out like a star.

As the game began, you found yourself entranced once again by Jungwon's performance. He darted across the field, effortlessly evading opponents with his nimble footwork. His passes were precise and his shots were powerful.

He commanded the field with an air of confidence that made your heart swell with pride.

His performance today was exceptionally good compared to the previous practice games. Not that he wasn't good before—he truly was—but today, it felt like he was in his zone.

Every move he made was so powerful. You couldn't help but wonder if the pressure of the upcoming football season was driving him to new heights.

However, it wasn't just Jungwon's skill that impressed you; it was the pure sheer joy he exude while playing that you always like to see.

His face lit up with a radiant smile every time he made a good play or celebrated a victory. It was clear the football was more than just a game to him; it was a passion that ignited and fueled his determination.

A soft and gentle smile made its way to your face as you held your hands close to your chest, feeling the crazy beat of your heart as you admired Jungwon from afar.

A whistle blew across the field, signaling that the first half of the practice game had just ended, making the players come back to the dugout to take a break. As the players made their way, your eyes only remained and followed Jungwon.

As he talked to one of the players, you saw him reach out for something among the water bottles and energy drinks. He twisted the cup and chugged its contents, making his Adam's apple bob with every gulp. The afternoon sun struck his skin, making it glow like honey and accentuating his chiseled jaw.

You catch your breath in a small gasp, not because of how attractive he looks but because the bottle he is holding is slowly becoming familiar.

It's the energy drink that you brought for him!

You know that it was yours because you made sure that the energy drink that you brought was different from the energy drink that they always drink every day, plus you can see the bright yellow sticker message that contained your motivational pun attached to the bottle!

You suddenly felt like you were not breathing when he noticed the sticker; his furrowed brows made you nervous as he read the message. You almost wanted to leave the field, thinking he didn't like what was written there, when all of a sudden he burst into laughter, making the other players look his way.

His teammates wanted to see what made him laugh, but Jungwon held the bottle close to his chest and refused to let anybody know.

Your cheeks suddenly flamed with redness; you don't know if it was from embarrassment or because of the overwhelming feeling of seeing his positive reaction to your motivational pun.

Jungwon looked at the sticker on the bottle once again and let out a chuckle while shaking his head in amusement. His smile and bright eyes didn't leave until the end of the practice game, making you feel a new sense of fulfillment knowing the small act of affection had reached him.

You guess the "Kick some Asparag-ass

(૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭" somehow made his day.

Seeing Jungwon's positive impact of your secret gesture fueled a newfound motivation deep within your soul.

Especially when you saw his soft smile upon discovering the rest of the gift you had left in his locker, a moment for which you had finally summoned the courage to witness his reaction.

Due to this, you can't help but ponder what else you could do—or another motivational pun to put— to bring him happiness and encouragement without revealing your true identity.

With each passing day, you continued to surprise Jungwon with small anonymous gifts, each carefully selected to brighten his practice session and show your support.

Noticing Jungwon excelled in his games and his skills shone even brighter with added encouragement, made your heart swell with pride each time you witnessed his growth, even though he remained unaware of your involvement.

You planned to spend your whole day today coming up with different ideas to keep Jungwon motivated, but since it was Sunday—meaning today was the scheduled release of a new chapter of the manga you were reading—you got distracted and ended up lying down lazily on the couch in the leaving room with an iPad hovering over your face.

You giggled when the supporting character thought that the protagonist was a love child of a known superhero in the story.

As you continued scrolling the pages, you heard the front door open.

Since the iPad completely covered your vision of the door, you didn't see who entered the house; you didn't mind and didn't bother to look who it was and continued reading, thinking it was only your brother since your dog, Bisco, immediately ran to the door with enthusiasm.

"Hey, make me some snacks." The voice of your irritating brother demanded—you guessed it right—it was your brother, which made your eyes immediately roll.

"Make your own," you grumbled, your eyes remaining on the screen.

"I'm going to study," he retorted, earning a scoff from you. 'Study my ass'

You remained unmoved, pretending not to hear him. However, your brother was relentless about getting you to make him snacks, resorting to tickling your foot.

You squirmed and kicked his hands away, still avoiding eye contact, thinking that ignoring him would make him leave you alone.

But the more you resisted, the more persistent your brother became.

Ni-ki decided to take it a step further and removed the socks you were wearing, continuing to tickle your bare foot.

You dramatically squirm around as if you were being possessed, earning a hearty laugh from your brother.

You got up and lodged a smack on your brother's arm when you had enough of his annoyance.

The sound of it resonated through the living room, proving how strong it was. You were ready to give him another one when you noticed another presence in the room.

Your fist hung mid-air, and your body froze as you saw Jungwon smiling at you.

"Hi, Y/n"

You immediately straightened your posture and quickly tucked your messy hair behind your ears.

"H-hello, Jungwon n-nii-san," you stammered while simply trying to fix your clothes, in which you are clad in your usual pajamas with pompompurin designs. You chew the side of your cheek.

Why is it that every time you look at your worst, Jungwon always shows up?

"Nii-san?" Your brother questioned, making you look at him. His brows furrowed like he couldn't believe what he had heard.

"We've been living here in South Korea for 5 years; it should be Oppa now."

Your fist suddenly feels itchy to punch your brother at the moment.

He knows that you're not yet comfortable using those honorifics because you're still adjusting to their culture; you're still slowly trying to fit in. 

Your fist has already collided with his arm; if not, your jersey no. 4 is not here.

"O-opp—" You gulp, looking down at your feet, trying your best to find the courage to say it. Wanting to put a good impression in front of the person you are admiring, you will try to say it.

"O-opp—"

"—ah"

"O-op—" 

"It's okay, Y/n" You immediately stopped when you heard a reassuring voice. You looked up, and your eyes immediately softened when you saw Jungwon looking at you with gentleness.

"I'm fine with Nii-san; you don't have to force yourself." You felt a warm glow of reassurance spread through your body, thawing the icy grip of fear that had taken hold of you.

"Nah, man. She can say i—" Before your brother could finish his words, Jungwon's fist already collided with Ni-ki's back, playfully smacking his friend.

"Let's have your sister do what makes her comfortable. Respect her decision, dude." Your brother quickly returns the punch to his friend, which only makes the latter laugh.

As Jungwon and Ni-ki were laughing and playfully bickering at each other, you stood there watching as if your world stood still, leaving you with the feeling of a crushing wave of warmth washing over you.

In the quiet corners of your heart, a warm ember began to glow.

It flickered gently at first, timidly reaching out to the cool, untouched spaces within.

Jungwon's gentle smile, the softness of his eyes, and his kindness made the ember grow, its flames dancing in harmony with the newfound rhythm of your heartbeat that you didn't know suddenly changed into something more.

'Uh, oh, you're falling in love'

The fluttering of your heart becomes more frequent and pronounced that every time Jungwon appears in your line of sight, you experience this peculiar feeling.

These little flutters seemed to build into a crescendo, filling your heart with a strange yet amazing feeling.

Every word that Jungwon says to you always shows how pure and kind his soul was, making the beat of your heart grow louder as if announcing to the cosmos the love that is blossoming within you.

Slowly, your heart was no longer fluttering; it was soaring.

'Oh no, you're falling in love'

You had always believed in love because of your parents, but you had never truly understood its power until now.

You realized that love was more than a fleeting connection; it was the awakening of your soul.

It was a feeling that washed over you like a gentle wave, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

As you look at Jungwon, a new, profound, warm sensation spreads through your chest, gradually seeping into every corner of your being.

It was a sensation of love, softening your edges and illuminating your soul.

It was a feeling that found solace in vulnerability and flourished in the light of trust.

'Oh, you're falling in love.'

Chapter Five

The newfound realization made your heart skip a beat and sent a rush of nervous energy through your veins.

You can't believe it, you have fallen in love.

With such a simple word, its complexities were unraveling before you, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified.

At a young age, you already found yourself entangled in a web of emotions that you had never encountered.

It was your first taste of this intoxicating elixir, and you were utterly unprepared for its effects.

With this newfound love came a wave of shyness that seemed to wash over you whenever you were in Jungwon's presence, making you tongue-tied like every word you wanted to say remained locked behind closed lips.

You couldn't even bring yourself to meet his gaze when you brought snacks to your brother's room while they were studying.

As you thought they were both studying.

Because upon handling their snack, you realized that only your brother was engrossed in his studies, while Jungwon was actively helping and guiding him, almost like a dedicated tutor.

This observation lingered in your thoughts, making you seek clarification from your mother about it.

"Oh, Jungwon?" Your mother started "his tutoring your brother on some of his subjects for weeks now." She continued while chopping some vegetables for dinner.

While this information seemed like a casual detail to your mother, for you, it was a revelation that left your eyes widening in shock.

How had you not noticed him doing this earlier, especially considering he had been tutoring your brother in his room for several days now?

What surprised you even more was how he managed to balance this commitment with the intensity of their practice games.

"But why? He's an athlete like Riki-nisan; wouldn't it be exhausting to do both?" Your curiosity compelled you to ask.

The chopping abruptly ceased. Your mother gently set down the knife, her gaze softening as she looked at you.

"You see, Jungwon has been struggling to pay off all of his school expenses—" You saw how the sad smile made its way to your mother's face.

"—despite working part-time, it hasn't been enough. Your brother offered financial assistance, but he always refused. Your brother was determined to help, so he proposed the idea of Jungwon tutoring your brother in subjects he was struggling with," your mother explained, continuing to chop vegetables as you listened attentively.

"That young boy is such a genuine friend to your brother. Despite his financial struggles, he consistently rejects any money from your brother's pocket. If only his mother hadn't fallen ill, he would have also declined your brother's offer."

The weight of the revelation made your heart sink.

While you admired Jungwon for his skills and charm, little did you know about the silent battles he faced. Yet, he remained a compassionate soul willing to endure hardships to support his family.

"So, if your friends are also struggling with their studies, let me know so we can recommend Jungwon to them, okay?" Your mother said with a hopeful smile on her face, also wanting to extend her help to her son's friend.

You nodded and agreed without hesitation, though deep down, a secret plan was forming in your mind.

You were the one who would be getting the tutoring sessions with Jungwon.

If Ni-ki was naturally a sports prodigy, you on the other hand were a naturally gifted student, excelling in all subjects effortlessly.

Despite being smart and not needing any help with your studies, you plan to take on the role of a struggling student to help Jungwon to support him financially.

With that plan, you were more determined to help Jungwon rather than get closer to him.

You were pacing back and forth, your heart pounding with anticipation. It was the day of your tutoring session with the person who only can make your heart do crazy act like this.

When you brought up the topic of needing a tutor during dinner, your parents were taken aback, nearly choking on their food.

It seemed incomprehensible to them that their academically successful daughter, particularly excelling in physics, would require assistance in any subject.

Fortunately, you are gifted an understanding parents who acknowledge that even bright students face challenges. Consequently, they graciously granted your request for a tutor, specifically Jungwon as your tutor in the subject where you usually excel the most—physics.

You will literally rot in hell for lying too much to your parents.

Back in your brother's room—which is the place you have requested to use for your tutor session—your mind swirling with thoughts of how the session would go.

You meticulously organized your study materials, ensuring they were arranged perfectly on your desk. You adjusted your hair, clothes, and everything in an attempt to look decent.

When the knock finally came at the door, your heart felt like leaped into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, before answering it. There stood Jungwon, clad in a fresh fluffy gray hoodie with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Y/n. How are you today?" He casually asks as he enters your brother's room, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

"I-I'm g-good, thank y-you." You cleared your throat, trying to cover your stuttered response. You felt your face immediately flush from embarrassment.

Jungwon smiled gently, sensing your nervousness. "Great! Let's start our lesson then," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "Remember, there's no need to be nervous. We're here to learn together, and I'm here to help."

From his assurance, you felt again the familiar melody in your heart that you can slowly put into a song, and it swelled every time he spoke with kindness.

Whenever you feel embarrassed or in trouble speaking your mind, Jungwon always catches you with soothing words, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to make you feel validated and loved.

His kind words seemed to have a power of their own, melting away your doubts and worries.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way Jungwon said them, the gentle sincerity in his voice. His words were not empty promises or shallow compliments; they held a genuine warmth that touched your heart.

Each day, his kind words reaffirmed your belief that your heart made the right choice in loving him.

"I hear you were having trouble in advanced physics?" You sheepishly nodded, crossing your fingers under the table, invoking a protective power to mitigate the bad consequences that will come to you for lying too much.

"Well, it's not your fault for finding this subject challenging. Teaching this level of physics in 7th grade is a bit advanced for young minds. I only started learning it last year in the 11th grade," Jungwon said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Our school's curriculum isn't the best, is it?" he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you.

He smiled, sensing that you were getting more comfortable, and began to slowly proceed with tutoring you.

As the session went on, Jungwon always been patient with you, eager to make you comfortable around him and create an environment wherein you could truly "learn."

But you've got to admit, the tips he is providing to help you understand the concept better are much easier to grasp than the way your teacher teaches.

As you spent more time with Jungwon, diving into deeper topics week after week, your feelings for him grew stronger. The way he explained things made you admire and like him more.

In those quite study moments, he made the subject matter feel like a beautiful melody, resonating not just in your head but also in your heart.

Falling for Jungwon was like a slow waterfall, this gentle descent into a realm where every drop carried a piece of your heart, cascading softly into the pool of emotions that brought a sense of calmness to your soul.

As the weeks pass, not only your feelings blossom but also your friendship with Jungwon.

Jungwon is an easygoing person, conversations with him flowed like a gentle stream, unhurried and reassuring. 

Before you start to study, he will ask about how your day went, and he will also share his with you.

Whenever you take a break from the study session, he will offer an icebreaker, such as playing a little bit of brain games or letting you rumble about the manga you were reading while he listens attentively.

One of the things you always look forward to in your study sessions is his thoughtful gifts, given as a reward every time you ace the study exercises or tests and quizzes in physics.

Sometimes, he surprises you with snacks, sharing his favorite jelly, and there's that one thing you can't forget: gifting you the latest volume of the manga you were reading.

"Since you ace the exam last time," Jungwon declared with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I think my student deserves this reward." The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, as he reached for his bag and pulled out a paper bag and handed it to you.

Curiosity piqued, you eagerly open the bag to reveal the latest volume of your favorite manga series.

Your eyes immediately widened in surprise, a delightful smile spreading across your face. "Jungwon nii-san, you remembered!" You exclaimed, flipping through the pages with excitement. " I can't believe you got this for me!"

Jungwon softly grinned, his own excitement mirrored in his eyes. "Of course, I remembered. You've been talking about this series non-stop, so I thought you'd appreciate having the next volume"

You couldn't count how many time you have been grateful for Jungwon's kindness, the kindness that always feels so warm and welcoming.

However, as you observed the way he interacted with others, you realized that his kindness and warmth were extended to all.

You're not as special to him as you thought.

You felt a bittersweet pang in your chest, acknowledging that he only saw you as his student, a friend, and nothing more.

Much worse, as his little sister.

In the bustling football stadium, under the warm glow of the stadium lights, you found yourself once again in your usual seat, holding your breath as the football game were in full swing. The players of Nightball team sprinted across the field, their feet grazing the perfectly manicured grass.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as Jungwon miraculously spotted you amidst the crowd.

A wide smile spread across Jungwon's face, and he waved at you with unreserved excitement. Your heart fluttered, surprised that he had noticed your presence among the large supporters. You waved back, returning his infectious smile.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with Jungwon, knowing that after all months of unwavering support for him, he was finally aware of it.

In a brief pause between play, Jungwon jog on your way to quickly thank you for cheering for him, as he talks to you, another talented football player, Jake, approached him, curiosity and amusement evident on is face.

He nudged him and teasingly asked, "Who's this girl you're waving at, man? Do we have a secret fan club now?"

Jungwon simply chuckled, "This is Ni-ki's little sister, Y/n." he look down at you with a softness in his eyes as he gently patted your head, "She's like my little sister too."

You felt a pang in your chest as disappointment washed over you, slowly realizing your position in Jungwon's life.

While your heart crazily beat of full affection for him, his was platonically calm for you.

Despite all of that, you swallowed the hurtful truth and softly smiled, accepting the role of being his only little sister.

From then on, you made a choice to embrace the only friendship you have with Jungwon without demanding more.

You continue to fill the pages of your heart with cherished moments, etching them with love and gratitude.

With each passing day, you learn the true essence of selflessness and acceptance.

Despite the unrequited love that lingered in the depths of your soul, you found solace in the knowledge that the friendship you shared with Jungwon was a treasure you could forever hold dear.

Although you acknowledge already the fact that your relationship with Jungwon will only stay as friends, it didn't stop you to continue sending him gifts and letters still anonymously.

You were happily skipping your way through the school hallway as the morning sun shone brightly, clutching yet again a beautifully wrapped gift along with a heartfelt letter of encouragement for his upcoming football game, and also discreetly thanking him for showing kindness and his help in tutoring you.

But as you approached Jungwon's locker, you noticed him standing there with his group of friends.

Startled, you quickly ducked behind a nearby row of lockers.

Seeing him still engrossed in conversation with his friends and seems like they have no plans to leave the lockers at any moment, you decided to retreat and come back later when they were gone.

With a small and hopeful smile, you turned around and began walking away. But just as you were about to go to your class, something caught your attention.

"Man, you remember the gift that Jungwon received last Friday?" an unfamiliar voice of a boy started, piquing your interest, especially since you knew you had gifted Jungwon that day.

"The design looks so damn childish like it was made by an elementary schooler for their art project." The boy snickered, "And all of the things, a freaking garden design mug as a gift?" he mockingly remarked with a chuckle, causing the others to burst into laughter.

You felt like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head when you overheard their conversations. It felt as though an icy hand wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it with an unbearable heaviness.

You in fact, gifted him a mug with a garden design, thinking he will like it because it reminds you of him and his name upon seeing it on the store.

With tears slowly well up in your eyes, you look down at your gift, which is wrapped in Tamama design gift wrappers with a cute bow ribbon.

Well, maybe they were right, your choice of gifts was childish.

But you had put so much thought and effort into those gifts, believing that Jungwon would appreciate them. However, it seemed like your gesture had become the subject of ridicule.

You felt as if the world crumbling around you, your heart sinking even deeper as if it had shattered into countless fragments. The thought that Jungwon might be also laughing at your "childish" designs only added to the weight of despair.

Unable to face the humiliation, you quickly turned in your heels and retreated, your footsteps echoing the emptiness in your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon, in fact, stood in silence, his usual smile faltered, a hint of offense flickering in his eyes.

"Hey, guys," he spoke up, his voice filled with a strength his friends never heard before. "That gift is special to me. It's different, sure, but it's unique. The person who gifted it to me probably has a reason for choosing a mug, and I appreciate it. It's the thought behind it that counts. So, please, show some respect."

His friends fell silent, stunned by the defense he had just given. Jungwon understood that his friends might not comprehend the deeper meaning behind someone's gift, but he couldn't let them belittle their efforts, especially since how those gifts consistently brightened his day.

You who are still unaware of Jungwon's defense, spent the rest of your day lost in your gloomy thoughts. Your heartache enveloped you like a tight cage, leaving you feeling isolated and alone.

You replayed the scene in your mind over and over, the sting of humiliation and embarrassment refused to subside.

You don't know how you will face Jungwon after all those words.

The idea of facing him, of looking into his eyes and pretending to be casual while those words in the back of your head kept stabbing you like a broken record was unbearable.

As you grappled with your own emotions, the glow of your phone screen caught your attention, announcing the arrival of a new message.

'Hi, Y/n! I might be a little bit late for our study session because of a team meeting ╥ ╥ , but I'll make sure to be there before 6:30 pm so we can have more time to study!'

'As an apology, I'll be bringing snacks~~'

The message from Jungwon illuminated your phone screen, and a mixture of conflicting emotions surged through you.

On the surface, the excitement of an incoming study session and the promise of snacks brought a fleeting smile to your face. However, deep within, a pang of heartache tugged at your insides.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and a lump formed in your throat. Jungwon's innocence, and his kindness, clashed violently with the echoes of humiliation and embarrassment that still pound within you.

The vivid memories of his friends' mockery haunted you, turning the joyous act of giving into a painful reminder of vulnerability.

With a heavy heart, you fabricated an excuse about feeling unwell and unable to attend the tutoring session that day.

It was a lie, one that marked the beginning of a pattern.

The tutor sessions turned into missed opportunities to see him, and the football games became distant scene you chose to avoid.

Jungwon, puzzled by your sudden change in behavior, continued to inquire about your well-being.

Each message from him tugged at your heart, but the walls you created held firm.

His concern was met with vague responses, masking the turmoil within you. The more he reached out, the deeper you delved into your cocoon of self-inflicted solitude.

The peak of this emotional turmoil came when Jungwon sensing your distance.

"Are you okay, Y/n?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Are you mad at me?"

The lies you spun become more elaborate, the excuses more intricate. You assured him that everything is fine and your not mad at him, that you were just busy, that life had taken unexpected turns.

Jungwon, the patient soul he was, accepted your explanations with a grace that only deepened the ache in your chest.

When he extended an invitation to his high school graduation ceremony, offering you a ticket and a chance to be part of his celebration, you hesitated.

The battle within you raged—the desire to reconnect, to salvage what was left, clashed with the fear of facing the unspoken truths.

In the end, you declined, citing other commitments and responsibilities that seemed to multiply in your made-up reality.

You both slowly grew apart, especially as he moved to another city to pursue his dreams at a different university.

It was a bittersweet decision but for now, you resigned yourself to the knowledge that some chapters must end before new ones can begin.

And though your story with Jungwon may have concluded on a sour note, you refused to close the book entirely, holding on to the faint glimmer of hope that perhaps, someday, your path would cross once more.

©2024 Demuse Writer. All Right Reserved.

[moonselune]

Oh funny idea! Aasimar tav letting asterion drink from them because they want to be helpful and also to hopefully keep him well behaved.

Just ends up hurting him because aasimar blood is holy.

As an Aasimar, you always felt a profound urge to help those around you, a divine calling to use your celestial gifts for the greater good. So, when Astarion came to you with a peculiar request, you didn’t hesitate to agree, even if the nature of the request was rather… unconventional.

It all began one evening as the camp settled down for the night. Astarion, ever the opportunist, had been eyeing you curiously for days. He approached you, his steps graceful and confident, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Darling," he purred, his voice dripping with charm, "I've been pondering something quite intriguing. Your blood, being of celestial origin, might just give me a little… boost. Imagine the power I could wield with Aasimar blood coursing through my veins."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his request. "You want to drink my blood?"

He nodded, flashing you a charming, albeit predatory, smile. "Indeed. It would be most enlightening."

Though the request was unusual, you couldn’t deny Astarion’s curiosity or your own willingness to assist. "Alright, Astarion. If you think it will help."

Astarion’s eyes lit up with anticipation. He guided you to a secluded spot in the camp, away from prying eyes. The moonlight bathed the area in a serene glow, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering flames of the campfire. As he prepared to sink his fangs into your neck, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. But your trust in him outweighed any doubts.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft and almost caring, a rare tenderness flickering in his eyes.

You nodded, and he gently bit down, his fangs piercing your skin with a sharp, sudden pain that quickly turned into a strange, almost soothing sensation. For a moment, everything seemed to be going smoothly. But then, Astarion’s eyes widened in horror.

He pulled back abruptly, clutching his throat and doubling over in agony. "What… what is this?" he gasped, his voice strangled and hoarse.

You looked at him in alarm. "Astarion? What's wrong?"

"It burns!" he managed to choke out, falling to his knees. "Your blood… it's like drinking liquid sunlight!"

You tried to stifle a laugh, realizing what had happened. "Astarion, my blood is holy. It’s infused with divine energy."

But Astarion was too busy writhing on the ground, groaning dramatically. "You didn’t think to mention that before?"

He rolled around, making quite the scene. You couldn’t help but find the situation absurdly comical.

"I'm an Aasimar, what did you think my blood was infused with?!" you said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "I mean, I did glow when we first met. Astarion, I thought you knew what you were doing!"

"Obviously not!" Astarion glared at you, his pain subsiding but his pride clearly wounded, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

By now, the commotion had attracted the attention of the other companions. Shadowheart approached, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What on earth is going on here?"

You glanced at Astarion, who was still on the ground, now more embarrassed than hurt. "Astarion thought drinking my blood would give him a power boost. Turns out, holy blood and vampires don’t mix well."

Shadowheart chuckled, shaking her head. "I could have told you that, Astarion."

Lae'zel smirked, crossing her arms with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "This is what you get for being so ambitious, pale one."

Even Karlach couldn’t suppress a laugh. "Looks like you bit off more than you could chew, Astarion."

Astarion shot them all a withering look but couldn't help but laugh himself. "Yes, yes, laugh it up. Lesson learned."

As the camp settled back into its nightly routine, Astarion approached you, still rubbing his throat. The stars above sparkled like diamonds in the dark sky, and the crackling of the campfire provided a comforting background noise. "Despite the… discomfort, I appreciate your willingness to help."

You smiled warmly, the celestial glow around you seeming to brighten the night. "Anytime, Astarion."

[zerokurokawa]

Hi i hope you’re doing well💖 i love your work!

May i request a one shot of kakucho where he’s inlove with his bestfriend who’s a bubbly but shy type of girl (like a mitsuri kanroji type) but he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be her man but izana makes up a plan to make him jealous so he could finally confess. Like he sets ran and reader up on a date since ran always flirts with her hihi…

You can ignore this if you’re too busy or don’t want to🫶🏼

have a nice day!

I Love You | Kakucho x Reader

Ran had always had his way with girls, especially with his good looks and charismatic attitude while Kakucho was awkward and afraid of rejection. Little did y/n know, Kakucho had always had feelings for her, his best friend and often got jealous when Ran would flirt with her. 

Y/n was especially sweet to everybody. She was outgoing and bubbly; she always knew how to make everybody's day light up with just her smile. 

"Kakuchooooo," You ran up to him, giving him a big hug, "Where have you been? I've missed you!" 

"Busy with Tenjiku stuff, are you doing okay y/n?" He asked, trying his best to keep his calm. You made his heart skip beats and he always had a soft spot for you. Izana overlooked the interaction as you two began to walk and talk through the warehouse of the Tenjiku hide out. After you had gotten done talking to Kakucho, you ran off, trying to go find a secluded spot to sit for the meeting. 

Izana walks over to Kakucho and decides to ask him why he hasn't confessed his feelings for you yet. 

"Because, look at her, I mean, she's so beautiful and look at me? I just, can't." Kakucho exclaims, holding his arms out to gesture at his bulky stature and scar on his face. 

"If you're insinuating that she thinks you're scary, you're mistaken." Izana said, while heading to the top of the cargo box where the leaders stood during the meetings. 

Kakucho would often invite you to meetings just to spend some extra time with you. He liked to keep an eye on you, especially with things heating up with Toman. He didn't want to risk anything happening to you, so he made it a point to keep you close. 

As the meeting began, Izana couldn't help but to devise a plan of how he was going to get Kakucho to finally confess his feelings towards you. It was then, that in his little devious head, he came up with the most profound plan. He was going to get the flirty Ran Haitani to ask you on a date. 

After the meeting, Izana went up to Ran and went over the plan with him. 

"You're going to ask y/n out, right in front of Kakucho." Izana would say. 

"What if she says no?" Ran asked, twirling his hair with his baton before continuing, "Wait, who am I to say she's gonna say no?" He smirked. 

______________________________________________________________

After the meeting was over, you made your way outside, not talking to anybody and waiting for Kakucho to drive you home. You heard footsteps coming your way from behind and jumped. Ran had snuck up behind you and immediately started flirting all the while Izana was wrapping some things up with Kakucho inside. 

"Hey there pretty." Ran said while smirking. 

"Hi..." You replied, shyly as he stepped closer, towering over you. 

"I was wondering-" He was cut off by Izana and Kakucho walking over to you both, but then he continued with his antics. 

"I was wondering what a pretty girl like you would do without a date to the festival?" Ran asked, putting away his baton. 

"I, uhm, I don't know... why?" You asked, smiling.  

"Thought maybe you'd like to go with me?" He smirked, reaching for your hand, "I can even take you home tonight too." 

"I don't know, uhm..." You looked over at Kakucho who had a pissed off expression on his face. This was unlike him, especially when it came to you. 

"She already has a ride home, Ran." Kakucho spoke up, nearly choking on his words as the jealously made its' way through his veins. 

"Well, I'll see you at the festival then. I'll pick you up at six?" Ran turned to you and asked. 

"Uhm, sure?" You replied, not wanting to be rude but also not knowing how to react to this encounter. 

Kakucho took you by your hand and practically dragged you over to his bike. You both hopped on and soon enough, arrived at your apartment complex where he walked you to the door. 

Kakucho stood there silently as you gathered your keys to unlock the apartment. You invited him in and he took the offer. He had been silent for quite some time now and you finally mustered up the courage to ask him what was wrong. 

"I don't feel comfortable with you going out with Ran." He finally says, eating the ramen you had made him. 

"Why? I really want to go to the festival... and I don't want to go alone." You said, leaning over the counter. 

"Because, I have a confession to make to you." He finally sat up, finishing his bowl of ramen. 

"What is it?" 

"I uh, I love you," He stammered out, "Like, I feel something when it comes to you..." He couldn't quite find the right words to say in this moment but you gathered all of the information you needed before walking over to him. 

He stood up, towering over you as you asked, "Then why didn't you ask me to the festival?"

"Because, I was afraid of being rejected and ruining our friendship." He said, worriedness in his tone. 

You leaned in closer to him before whispering, "You wouldn't be ruining anything. I love you too."   

Yours and Kakucho's faces were inches apart when he leaned in. You could feel his breath against yours as he tried to keep his breathing steady when suddenly, he closes the gap between you two. Kissing passionately for what seems like eternity, you finally break away. 

"So, you're not going to the festival with Ran?" He asked, looking straight at you with a cute, worried expression on his face. 

"No, dummy," You slap his shoulder playfully, "I would hope that I'd be going with you, every year now." 

He let out the biggest smile possible and wrapped his arms around you. He won the girl, but not just any girl, his girl. 

(A/N: thank you for requesting! I hope you like it :) also, thank you for the compliment!! it inspires me to keep writing!!)

[duhragonball]

Akira Toriyama (1955-2024)

I wouldn't say I'm feeling better today, but I'm feeling less bad than yesterday. So let's see if I can put some words together.

In case anyone still hasn't heard, Dragon Ball creator Akira Toriyama passed away on March 1, 2024. This news was made public on March 7 or 8. I woke up early on Friday morning and found out while I was checking Twitter. I had a long, busy day at work, and I kept getting on my phone to scroll through fan reactions and tributes.

I think that, more than anything, is what's gotten me so worked up about his death. My Twitter timeline and my tumblr dashboard were just chock full of touching message and images about how Akira Toriyama's work has changed their lives. I wanted to write my own tribute, but I'm not sure what else I can say that hasn't already been expressed by Archie Comics, professional wrestling trio The New Day, and the Republic of El Salvador.

There's this immense, global community of fans, and it's easy to lose sight of just how big it is. It's easy to get bogged down in the infighting and petty squabbles. I saw one tweet responding to the criticism of Dragon Ball not being like this "entry level" franchise compared to other, more high brow anime and manga. It's popular with so many people, that critics will assume it's designed to appeal to the lowest-common-denominator. But the opposite is true! Dragon Ball is accessible, which is how so many people from so many different places and walks of life can get into it. The guy telling the story was such a master storyteller that he could grab an audience's attention and make it look easy. So easy that the haters would start to think that it was a trick, and he must be overrated.

Let me talk about this panel for a minute.

Last night I started going through the original manga, looking for panels to screencap. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I thought maybe a selection of panels that really stood out for me might be worth posting. I'll probably still do that one of these days, but I got to this one, where Gohan tells Chi-Chi about Goku's death, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

This was a powerful scene in the anime, of course, but in the comic it's even more profound. It's just one panel, no dialogue, because the reader already knows what's happening here. We know Gohan is telling his mother that Goku died in the Cell Games, and that he refuses to be wished back, because he thinks his presence on Earth will attract new enemies. It was hard enough to hear when Goku said it to Gohan and the others, and now Gohan has to relay that message to Goku's wife. All she can do is lie prostate on the floor and weep.

And look at the composition. She's surrounded by all that negative space. Gohan's there for her, but she still feels so alone, surrounded by her husband's absence. Pots of flour for food he'll never eat. An empty chair he might have sat in. Their son, who will have to grow up without him.

I saw this, as though for the first time, and it was so gut-wrenching that I had to post it by itself. I felt like it summed up my feelings better than any words could. We're all Chi-Chi in this panel, reacting to Akira Toriyama's death. And we're all Gohan too, each of us consoling one another with our own thoughts and tributes.

So what did Akira Toriyama mean to us all? Lots of people have answered this in a lot of different ways. Obviously his art, storytelling and cultural impact speak for themselves. I've seen people compare him to other luminaries like Jack Kirby and Osamu Tezuka. I'll try to add my own two cents with this:

I wrote a post about "Dragon Ball Daima" back when it was first announced, and I led off with this image of a note from Akira Toriyama. I guess this was from some big fancy presentation about Daima at a convention. I forget which one. In particular, I was skeptical that the Daima rumors were even true, and if they were, the whole idea seemed half-baked to me. Turning Goku into a kid had been done before, and it wasn't exactly successful the first time.

But this note from Toriyama was very reassuring to me. More than the trailer clips and character designs, this was what got me interested in the show. That's because he took the time to not only hype up the show, but also to explain what's going on behind the premise. He took the time to tell everyone that he's working on this show, and what "Daima" means, and why all the characters get turned into kids. It's "due to a conspiracy", and the good guys will have to "fix things". In short, he established a plot, conflict, and resolution to the story. He didn't just slap this together to sell new merch. I'm sure that was part of the motivation to make Daima, but there's more to it than that.

I think that's the loss I feel with Toriyama's passing. It's not that there won't be new Dragon Ball stories in the future. I'm sure others will continue telling their own versions long after I'm gone. I'm not that worried about the fate of Daima. I'm sure they'll figure something out, whether it's delayed, rewritten, or canceled. But we'll never see another message from Toriyama to promote a new project, and that's what I'll miss. From here on, his credit will just be an acknowledgement of his past contributions.

There's this great credibility with Akira Toriyama's name. Fans will argue about how involved he was in a project as a way of establishing how good or bad it was. Dragon Ball GT has his name on the credits, and he provided some designs and artwork early on, and for some fans that proves the series has his endorsement. For others, the sole problem with the show is that he wasn't directly writing the script. There's similar debates over Dragon Ball Super, where he was involved, but only writing those mysterious "notes". So if a fan doesn't like something in DBS, who do they blame? Did Toriyama lose his touch, or did his co-creators fumble the ball? Dragon Ball Evolution basically ignored all of Toriyama's advice and bombed, while Battle of Gods, Resurrection F, Broly, and Super Hero all put Toriyama's writing credits up at the very beginning, and each film made plenty of money. I read his comments on the Daima confirmation, and immediately thought "Okay, this should be pretty good. Akira Toriyama knows what's up."

That's gone now. I mean, there's still a lot of talent out there, but we'll never again have the little gas mask-wearing robot telling us that this story will be good because he worked on making it good. I don't think I really appreciated how much I trusted that guy until now. I still can't believe he's really gone.

I'll probably have more to say about this in the coming days, but I'll stop here for now. Thanks for letting me ramble a bit on this.

[reaper2187]

Ningguang x female reader

In the bustling harbor of Liyue, where the aroma of spices mingled with the scent of the sea, Ningguang stood at the highest point of the Jade Chamber, gazing out at the horizon. Her elegant figure was silhouetted against the setting sun, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Liyue's prosperity and safety. Yet, amidst the responsibilities and concerns, there was one thought that lingered more persistently than the rest: Y/N.

Y/N, a traveler who had captured the heart of the Tianquan herself. Intelligent, courageous, and kind, Y/N had become an integral part of Ningguang's life, both personally and in her work to maintain Liyue's stability. The two had met during one of Y/N's adventures, and what had started as a chance encounter blossomed into a profound connection.

Ningguang sighed softly, her usually stern and composed expression softening as she thought of Y/N. She turned away from the window, her robes rustling as she made her way to the chamber's grand staircase. As if on cue, a gentle knock echoed through the chamber.

"Come in," Ningguang called, her voice steady and welcoming.

The grand doors swung open to reveal Y/N, her eyes lighting up as they met Ningguang's. She stepped inside, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on her features.

"Ningguang," Y/N greeted, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Ningguang's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. "Y/N. It's always a pleasure to see you. Come, sit with me."

They walked together to a plush seating area adorned with luxurious cushions and a low table set with fine tea. Ningguang poured a cup for Y/N, her movements graceful and practiced.

"How was your day?" Ningguang asked, handing the cup to Y/N.

Y/N took a sip, savoring the rich flavor before responding. "Busy, but fulfilling. I helped some merchants resolve a dispute at the market and assisted the Adventurers' Guild with a particularly troublesome commission."

Ningguang nodded, her eyes never leaving Y/N's face. "You always manage to bring order wherever you go. It's one of the many things I admire about you."

Y/N blushed at the compliment, her heart swelling with affection. "Thank you, Ningguang. That means a lot coming from you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Ningguang reached out, her hand gently covering Y/N's.

"Y/N," she began, her voice softer now, "I've been thinking a lot about us lately. About what you mean to me."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She looked into Ningguang's eyes, seeing a rare vulnerability there. "Ningguang… I feel the same way. You've become so important to me. More than I ever imagined possible."

Ningguang's grip tightened slightly, her thumb brushing over Y/N's knuckles. "I want you to know that whatever happens, you have a place here. With me. In the Jade Chamber, in Liyue… in my heart."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she leaned in, her forehead resting against Ningguang's. "And you have a place in mine. Always."

Ningguang closed her eyes, savoring the closeness, the intimacy of the moment. "I've always been cautious with my heart, Y/N. But with you, it feels right. It feels like home."

Y/N smiled through her tears, her free hand coming up to caress Ningguang's cheek. "You've given me a home too, Ningguang. In more ways than one."

They stayed like that for a while, basking in each other's presence, the world outside forgotten. Eventually, they pulled apart, though their hands remained intertwined.

"Stay with me tonight," Ningguang whispered, her eyes pleading. "Let's forget about the rest of the world, just for a while."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding with love and anticipation. "I'd love nothing more."

They spent the evening together, sharing stories and laughter, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. As the night deepened, they found solace in each other's arms, the weight of their responsibilities and the world's demands fading away.

In the quiet intimacy of the Jade Chamber, surrounded by the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle hum of the night, Ningguang and Y/N found a sanctuary in each other. Their love, forged in the fires of adventure and adversity, was a beacon of hope and joy, a testament to the power of connection in a world that often seemed overwhelming.

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. For in each other, they had found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a love that transcended the ordinary and touched the very essence of their souls.

And so, under the watchful gaze of the stars and the serene calm of the Jade Chamber, Ningguang and Y/N dreamed of a future filled with love, adventure, and the unbreakable bond they had forged.

[sirfrogsworth]

It's hard to be nostalgic about Tumblr without remembering my friend Tru.

Truett McGowan.

What a fantastic name.

We met each other because we were both tech geeks following Leo Laporte. He was the very first live streamer. Originally he hosted a TechTV cable show called The Screen Savers. But once G4 took over and focused more on video games, Leo's show was cancelled and he was looking for a new way to broadcast content.

So he built a studio near his home and created his own infrastructure in order to live stream video on the internet. He called his new show "This Week in Tech" or TWiT for short.

Along with his new streaming venture he created a TWiT community using an open source microblogging platform called Laconica. It was a form of Twitter that you could create specifically for a single community. Basically a custom niche Twitter feed. I was trying to be a web designer back then, so I created custom themes for Lacnonica.

This was my own personal theme for a website that I ended up never launching.

Leo called his custom Twitter, "The TWiT Army." And I was his graphic designer and webmaster. I made all of the cute little graphics for the website.

I also did fun holiday themes...

For the Thanksgiving theme, if you hovered over the Turkey it would change to being cooked.

I also took it upon myself to photoshop a little army helmet on the avatar of every single user of the site.

This was the zombie avatar I made for myself during Halloween.

The TWiT Army was also where I started posting my first attempts at Photoshop comedy. Many of them related to The TWiT Army.

And The TWiT Army is where I met Tru. He used a space invader avatar. I made him a couple of different versions.

You may have seen his avatar on the sidebar of my main Tumblr.

We became fast friends. We finished each other's jokes. We talked pretty much all day, every day. He loved Apple back then. I was strictly PC at the time. So we debated about that quite a bit. He would probably be astonished I have a MacBook and that I really love it too.

Our friendship lived in a little text box. We never talked outside of instant messages. But it was one of the most profound friendships of my life. I loved Tru just as much as any friend I've ever known in real life.

Tru started blogging on this brand new site called Tumblr. He reviewed apps for the iPod Touch. Not the iPhone, as that wasn't yet a thing.

I made the banner for his Tumblr.

He kept trying to get me to join Tumblr, but I was busy trying to create my own custom comedy website. But my site kept getting more and more complicated and I could never quite finish it. I was trying to arrange guest authors and create 3 months of content and I was always futzing with the theme and never happy with it.

I was getting frustrated that I could never launch my perfect comedy website and Tru suggested just making a Tumblr and posting funny stuff so I could be creative and have an outlet until my big site was ready to launch.

Little did I know Tumblr would end up being my big comedy website. Eventually I abandoned months of work and just stayed on Tumblr. All of my success here is pretty much because that little space invader pestered me to join when I was being stubborn.

Unfortunately, as some may have figured out already, the story gets sad from there. Tru mentioned briefly that he had a heart defect, but he never said it was serious. He acted like it was no big deal so I never thought too much about it.

We always talked through instant message and email, so we never exchanged phone numbers or addresses or anything like that. Tru was a very private person so he never even published an image of his face online. I only knew him as a space invader.

One day I woke up and sent him a message and got no reply. He usually woke up before me and answered as soon as I said hello. This had been our routine for nearly a year.

An hour went by. Two hours. Three hours.

It was odd for him not to respond for that long. I was really worried but all of my TWiT friends told me I was being paranoid. But there was a huge knot in my stomach telling me otherwise.

But then those hours turned into days. Days into weeks. Weeks into months. My worry grew exponentially as more time passed. I didn't know what to do. I tried finding his family. I even looked into hiring a private investigator. I don't know if I have ever felt a combination of depression & anxiety that intense.

In my heart, I knew what had happened. I knew that heart defect took his life. He was only 26 and it just didn't seem fair. But the not knowing for certain ravaged my mental health. Before all of this I had lost nearly 90 pounds and I gained it all back.

I think maybe a year or so later I found a friend of his who knew him in real life. They were finally able to confirm my suspicions. He passed away from his heart condition. That was my first real experience with grief. But I was so thankful for that bit of closure. I was finally able to let go of my anxiety and mourn him properly.

But Tru gave me such a wonderful gift. He pushed me to just start making things. To stop stalling and just create things to make people smile.

And you all probably know the rest from there.

[kidgeygirl]

It's been many, many years since I've written anything for Voltron, but here I am. Despite many complaints, my heart has always been stuck on our favorite red and green duo. Lately, I've been back in the fandom, and now that I've matured into early adulthood, I've decided to try and find the perfect way to write them post war, but realistically (or at least, semi-realistically).

I honestly don't know how many people are still in this fandom, but I will regret not sharing my thoughts (internal storyline that has slowly been building up since forever.) so here I am. :)

Anyways, if anyone reading this is interested, here are some things to know.

I'm a slow updater, and I very much hate most of the stuff I write. So please bear with me as I navigate this story to how I envision it.

This is not my main account, this is strictly a Voltron/Kidge account, so I'm not expecting a lot of traction— however, at times this might cause a hit at my confidence, despite knowing that fact. So again, bear with me.

I'm a compliment girlie. If you read this story once it's out and like it, please let me know. It will help me in the long run and encourage me to keep this going.

I don't remember everything about Voltron as I haven't watched it fully in years, so I'm going to rewatch all of it before writing. (Don't worry, I don't have too much of a busy life right now besides babysitting.) So this story won't be right away, but I will be writing down scenes/passages while writing. I might even create a few one shots, behind the scenes stuff you won't see in the story, to give you some extra Kidge.

SOME THINGS ABOUT THE STORY—

Shadows of Azar ~ When Keith and the Blades, a group of elite warriors, reach out to Katie for assistance on a critical mission, they discover that their past bond is far from forgotten. As they face danger, betrayal, and the weight of the universe, their connection reignites into something even more profound. Secrets unravel, alliances shift, and the line between duty and personal loyalty blurs. Amidst the chaos of battle, Keith and Katie find themselves drawn together, their shared history woven into every decision they make.

But this isn't just about saving the universe; it's about saving each other. As they navigate treacherous terrain, they confront their own vulnerabilities, fears, and desires. Keith, haunted by his past, seeks redemption. Katie, brilliant and determined, grapples with the sacrifices she's made for her family. Together, they forge a new path—one that transcends duty and becomes a testament to resilience, trust, and love.

As the Blades' mission unfolds, Keith and Katie must confront not only external threats but also the complexities of their emotions.

After the battle is won, will they embrace this newfound connection and ignite a brilliant flame together, or will it consume them—reducing everything they’ve cherished to ashes?

————

Ages— Keith 25, Katie (Pidge) 21

————

Here, we find that Pidge goes more by 'Katie'. Only the ones closest to her call her Pidge. (Family, Paladins.)

———

Allura is alive!!

———

Ships— Kidge. Allurance. Hunk&Shay. Shiro and Curtis. Matt and V.

———

This is a slow burn!! (In a way). It's not a large storyline, as I'm not planning to be a whole book. Kind of more of a mini series. (I haven't decided how many chapters, so maybe it'll change.)

This is told in Third POV, but you can tell when it switches its focus from Katie and Keith.

———

(I will be posting a playlist.)

[bogusboxed]

Boxtobier ⊗ Day 1

"Go Big or Gourd Home.”

Pairing: Toby Rogers X GN!Reader

Theme: "Pumpkins." & "I've Got You.”

Rating: (PG-13)

Words: 3.9k

Trigger Warning(s): Vulgar Language & Descriptions of Scars.

        The rights to this character, "Ticci Toby," fully belong to Kastoway.

This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.

"I saw this on TikTok once!" Toby tried to speak before you cut him off. "Stop. Stop right there—we are not adding fucking mayo to this pumpkin pie."

You may have been trying to make a mess of the place with the poor excuse of trying to make a pie. But you weren’t about to add mayonnaise to this thing.

You sighed; maybe this wasn’t the best way to get payback on Tim.

⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇

An hour before this deranged chaos, you’d been called down by Brian and Tim.

This wasn’t anything brand new; you were usually issued some requests, among other things, like a few tips, reminders, and things to do while they were out on their mission.

But instead, this time, you were greeted with a heap of shit. That heap was a very unwanted critique of your work performance.

Of course, it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle constructive criticism. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was his sassy little Southern attitude.

⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇

Brian had been leaning against the wall closest to the front door in his typical canary hoodie. He wasn’t wearing his ski mask yet, instead clutching onto the fabric with a shit-eating grin. He watched you both silently, like a hawk above two bickering rabbits.

"I know you can do better than... well, that."

Tim sighed, making direct eye contact with you while baring a half-lidded expression. 

He hadn’t seemed bothered by his last-second addition; in fact, he seemed relaxed, placing his hands into his jeans pockets.

He didn’t harp on it too much but made it clear he wasn’t impressed by your "lackluster conduct" on your last mission. It was his professional way of saying he thought your way of handling your missions was half-assed and messy.

But, to you, it wasn’t any of his business to judge and stalk how well you performed solo. You knew you were the newest addition to the proxies, but you were just as capable as any other proxy, if not better.

So, in a childish backstab, you invited Toby (of all people) to make a pumpkin pie with you.

To the average person, making a pumpkin pie was an extremely nice thing to do with friends. But the thing was, you weren’t in it for the pie.

You were in it for the anarchy of a mess Toby was going to mindlessly create, and he was more than happy to oblige, thinking this was just a cute, innocent activity you two were going to bond over.

Currently, you had just shoved the pie into the rust-covered oven; it was finally semi-done, and all you had to do now was let the turmoil simmer.

Taking a swift and profound inhale, you let your shoulders fall. Considering all things, your plan to get revenge on Tim was going perfectly.

Taking the time to scan the granite countertop, you found that flour had been recklessly scattered and even dumped nearly all over the place. To add to this disaster, the pumpkin puree you two had fought with ended up everywhere, including the ceiling.

Admiring the mess you bet Toby would make with a devilish smile, you turned to your fawn-headed counterpart. He blinked slowly, his usual sarcastic, hyper personality dimming to detachment.

He took a sluggish, staggered exhale like he finally took in the severity of the mess you two made.

"...Tim’s going to kill us," he stuttered, fumbling over his words while mindlessly furrowing his thick eyebrows.

Looking at his face, a mix of pumpkin and flour was streaked all over his soft, distressed features. From his freckles to his scars, the ingredients covered just about all of him. It was even on the shitty apron he stole that read, "To-do list: Let's Get Griddy Gang." (What deranged teen did he steal that from?)

The corners of your lips curled upward as he watched a mischievous glint appear in your eyes. "I hope so."

"What—are you a masochist? -I-... never mind. Don’t answer that." He huffed, shivering from the chest up.

Not because he was cold, but because he just functioned like that.

He swallowed thickly, watching the kitchen timer slowly dial down. He couldn’t accept the fact that you genuinely wanted to make Tim hate your guts, so he just watered it down to you being clinically insane.

Although he wasn’t too off target.

You had your entire scheme planned out on a whim; once the pumpkin pie was done, you’d place it on the countertop and immediately leave for your mission with Toby, all right before your "roommates" got back.

Staying in a still, dazing silence, you decided you’d go ahead and get the most arguably important element you needed for this dessert. The thing that’d tie it all together, like the cherry on top of the hurricane.

The whipped cream.

Leaving the lankier man’s side, you traversed through the disordered mess to reach the fridge.

Heaving the steel door open, you were hit with a frigid breeze of air that’d been accumulating inside all day. Ignoring the cold, you allowed your eyes to filter through all the items. From the pickle jar, milk, and beer to the black body bag.

Until you saw it. You immediately reached up to the skinny aluminum can, and your warm palms quickly reacted to the cold metal. However, something was off.

It was light.

His gaze retreated from yours, tension rising in his limbs. He sank inward, his posture shrimping forward as you eyed his motions. He scratched his palm, clearly trying to avoid your suspicions.

He mumbled sharply, narrowing his eyes while feeling his throat constrict, "I was hungry—what else was I supposed to eat? - Pickles?"

You sighed, dismissing his defensive behavior as you brought the half-empty can to the nasty countertop. You didn’t get why he couldn’t just admit it and move on. You didn’t understand why he had to get so bent out of shape for being called out on something as stupid as that.

Your eyes apprehended the surrounding clutter with satisfaction. Dropping his behavior, you softly nodded your head to the wreckage of the kitchen. As disorienting as it looked to the average person, the mess had looked serene to you.

Even with Toby’s unclear personality, you had to admit you enjoyed his presence. Having to live in this cabin in the middle of nowhere was mind-wrenching and would make even the sanest person question things.

Especially since you worked under that thing.

Although the people you considered to be your current coworkers weren’t all that bad, when you reached the top, you were finally separated from the others. After that, your life had become substantially more placid.

It wasn’t to say the work wasn’t harder than before, because it was. But at least here you had real free time. You had time to clear your mind away from all the horrors of your job without being bothered by a coal-haired, tweaked-out serial killer.

Plus, Kate, Tim, Brian, and Toby were easier to stand than the others you had to work with, and unlike the others, you didn’t mind spending time with them. But you just wished you could’ve all met under different circumstances. (Not that you’d ever admit that to any of them.)

Finally placing the whipped cream on top of the cakey debris, Toby decided he’d continue the small talk, "So, uh, what are we going to do about the mess?"

He watered the situation down, knowing you both could visually see the multitude of the destruction.

"Nothing," you replied instantaneously as he stiffened at your words. 

His view flickered toward you as his mouth slightly hung open, forming a silent "O." By his expression, you could tell he was starting to actually believe you had a death wish.

He muttered under his breath, almost not believing what you were saying, "Why?"

You kept quiet, deciding whether or not telling him the truth about why he was here would be a good idea or not. You knew he had anger issues, but you didn’t know if your deceitful actions would set him off or not.

But yet again, lying would just escalate the problem.

"...To get back at Tim," you exhaled softly, knowing just how childish it sounded.

He tilted his head at you. To him, the words that came from your mouth were foreign. He didn’t know how to take being associated with your crimes, but he didn’t mind it all that much. 

He just thought you were stupid.

"Yeah, 'cause that’s a good fucking idea." He chuckled at you, his healed mouth tear contorting upward.

In a hush, he still had a smile indented into his features. He wasn’t going to shoot down your plans entirely, considering he’d had his agenda of getting back at Tim.

Looking at you with his curved features, he questioned your methods, "Then what? I mean, he’s going to be back eventually, and he's going to be pissed."

"By that time, I should be off on my mission." You folded, admitting the rest of your plans to your now willing accomplice.

Toby held his tongue with a light smile. He began to lean back on the disaster of a countertop behind him, not thinking about the potential that it could stain the back of his hoodie.

You watched him lay the rest of his weight back before moving a hand to his temple. Strands of hair that once stuck to his forehead were fluffed as he allowed himself to drop his shoulders.

His nut-brown eyes were dilated and unfocused on anything you had to say.

All things considered, this was a pretty positive response from Toby. He didn’t seem all that tense, and you knew what he was typically like from the months you’d shared a cabin with him.

But, from his current expression, you didn’t have an ounce of worry that you’d get any backlash from him. In fact, he seemed all in on your naive rebellion against Tim.

He chewed on his raw bottom lip absently and said, "Y’know, I tried—to burn down the cabin my first week."

You felt your eyes blink several times before fully processing what he just said. Hearing that, you regretted not going further with your actions. (Poor Tim.)

You raised your eyebrows involuntarily, replying, "If you're still standing, then maybe I have a chance."

He breathlessly chuckled at your words, continuing to gnaw on his healed wounds. A droplet of crimson raced down his chin as he nibbled at it, not noticing the warm liquid trace his scar-filled features.

He stood there, still reclined on the granite, "Yeah- well, Tim dragged me along for any missions he had after that."

Hearing those words, you felt your throat tighten. Now you really couldn’t afford to be caught in the crossfire of this mess. But if what he said was true (and it probably was), You’d only be denying the inevitable of having to be followed by Tim for a good month or two.

But, yet again, maybe he’d have more mercy on you, considering you didn’t burn down the cabin.

*DING*

The dingy, off-white kitchen timer finally rang, breaking the slight silence you two had harbored. You felt yourself flinch at the abrupt buzz, while Toby didn’t seem all that phased by the sudden noise, and if he was, he was able to unconsciously restrict his movement.

You rambled some curse words before swiftly racing over to the 2000s stove. Your hands ran to the knob, cranking it off before grabbing two distinct, picnic-looking gloves from the stovetop you’d conveniently left beforehand. Hastily, you slid your red gingham-patterned mittens on as you yanked the oven door open.

A wave of heat blew against your face, causing a slight burning sensation on your cheeks. The warmth enveloped you, putting a thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

The heat messed with your vision as you aggressively blinked through it.

With the hot breeze, you could smell the pie. The aroma was soft on your nose, as hints of cinnamon and spice danced in the air. The addicting smell was enough to make you take a quick inhale before returning to your original focus.

Through the heated air, the oven’s interior light helped to illuminate the scene. The dim light revealed a perfectly caramelized pumpkin pie that sat in the middle of a metal tray.

Steam radiated from the pie, showing it was still somewhat cooking.

Reaching inside, you grabbed the blazing pan from the inferno. Lifting the tray, you could feel just how heavy the pie was.

The baked good was a hefty, dense pie that completely relied on your steadiness to not collide with the floor. You could feel your frame teetering, inches away from falling face-first into the oven.

You swallowed, trying your hardest not to tip over while still pulling the pastry out.

Finally retrieving the tray a little more than halfway, thoughts started to impulsively soil your mind. What if you went too fast and it tipped over? What if you had bent too far and there was just no safe way to retreat?

At this point, you could feel just how hot the cooking tray was.

You felt how the heat seeped through the fabric mittens and onto your palms. 

You needed to speed up before you burned yourself. Pulling the pan up further, you suddenly felt your soles slowly slip due to the pumpkin puree under you.

Dread filled you as you began to slide on the smooth flooring. 

You had accepted your fate, and while still trying to lift the burning tray to a safe spot, you started sliding fully. Thinking of a safe way to execute your plan, you paused your movement to not further the slide. 

That was until you felt a presence hovering behind you.

You would’ve questioned the person if you didn’t have a steaming pan stuck in both hands. Standing there, almost falling with the tray, two skinny hands quickly covered your own from behind.

Arms surrounded yours, helping you hold onto the pan.

"I’ve got you." Toby stuttered as he stabilized you and the tray.

You were stunned, to say the least. You did need help; you just didn’t expect it to come in this manner. He was close—almost too close for just friends to be. You could hear his rapid heartbeat as his muted, warm breath invaded your neck.

The sensation that this brought was so much warmer than the freshly baked pie that had been cemented to your hands.

Your thoughts felt like they were leaking out of your head like your brain was slipping out of your ear.

Noiselessly, you froze up like an idiot. Thoughts paralyzed you when you smelled the pine on his worn-out hoodie.

Every breath you took sealed your fate. You wanted to speak, but here you were holding your peace. The feeling pulsing through you had to have been what sinking in quicksand felt like.

He had planned on mirroring your movements from behind until you just decided to stand still like a mannequin on display, "Are you going to place it? Or what?"

God, you had been spacing out.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Returning to consciousness, you forced yourself to continue your original plan. Ignoring the figure observing your stillness, you finally pulled the tray out completely.

The weight of the pie, which seemed almost unmanageable seconds ago, was now securely resting in your shared hands.

Carefully holding the fall-themed dessert, you maneuvered the both of you to the gasoline stovetop. The way you two cooperated felt like a team game as you both gently placed the pumpkin pie down.

Once the pan made a satisfying clink sound with the oven, his bony hands swiftly uncovered yours. He pulled his lean, well-formed arms, now fully away from your figure.

As you pulled your oven mittens from your warm palms, you felt his brisk absence.

Exhaling, you distracted yourself with the pie. The once-saffron orange had been reduced to a muted ginger. Near the edges of the circular treat was a deep auburn shade hinting that it’d been cooking using its heat. 

Admiring your work, you couldn’t help but think how good it’d taste on a crisp Halloween night.

The toasty atmosphere was still swirling, enveloping the both of you. Inhaling the aroma of the freshly baked pie, you could feel the lingering tension. Your breath stifled, trying to embrace the smell rather than your accusing thoughts.

A mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a tinge of cloves spread through the cabin like wildfire. Honestly, the pie smelled like a lit candle from a high-end store.

Looking back at Toby, you met his sight, "Thanks."

The words were plain and simple. Relaxing you could feel the heat of the room gradually decline.

"A-huh," he muttered back at you, resigning his gaze to the floor.

You watched him scratch the inside of his mixed hands more destructively than he needed to. The conversation was growing dry as you didn’t say anything in response to his dead tone.

Your sight soon hunted down the almost hollow can. There wasn’t much left. Not nearly enough for each slice to have its own dollop. Would one swirl in the middle be enough, or was it not even worth it at that point?

Indecisiveness flared through you as you decided to use this moment as a spark for conversation, "Cream or no cream?"

"Well, there’s not much left, but if you want to do one dumb dollop, then go ahead." He replied, picking at his fingers like he wasn’t the reason you were lacking whipped cream.

Looking at him this close, you could tell he was chewing the inside of his cheek. He seemed to have ignored what happened last time. Eyes tracing to the other side, you looked at the hollow gape in his mouth. Teeth ran up his jaw like a canine, revealing his darkened gums.

You tapped your fingers on the skinny can like a drum as his eyes flickered to yours. "Y’know, it’s rude to— stare."

You slightly recoiled, turning your gaze elsewhere as he dropped his head slightly to the side. Unannounced to you, a misshapen smile formed on his face. He was fond of the way you responded to his words.

"Sorry." You exhaled, knowing he was playing with you.

In response to your words, he lightheartedly giggled. He had a certain way of letting you know if he was upset with you, and this wasn’t it. But, still, you didn’t want to set him off in any way.

He knew he shouldn’t mess with you like that, but he found it so addicting.

You heard a firm click of the tongue, and unwillingly, you turned back to him. He was tracing his convoluted scars with his index finger; no blood dripped from the healed wounds. At this point, it seemed he wanted your attention.

He wanted you to look at his wilted wounds with loathing repulsion. He needed to hear you critique his looks so he could bury the feeling deep inside of him.

Instead, your sight trailed from his face to his arms and then to his hands.

His sculpted hands were littered with disfigured markings from his past. The valleys of his fingers had been flawed with absent chucks of flesh like he’d gnawed them off a while ago.

But that aged damage wasn’t what you were disturbed by.

It was the inflamed scarlet decorating his chapped palms. The marking seemed tender to the touch, unlike the rehabilitated marks everywhere else. He held his shaky breath in his throat, seeming to realize what you were skeptical of.

"...You touched the pan, didn’t you?" Your words came out loosely; you watched him swallow densely now, not enjoying the words coming from you.

He kept silent with a stiff expression (he got caught red-handed), "Maybe."

Of course, Toby couldn’t feel it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t injured. With the number of reckless incidents he inflicted on himself, you’d think he’d learned by now.

Typically, his only argument was that it gave you all the superhuman ability to heal wounds overnight, and while that was true, it could still get infected in that time frame.

Inhaling, you wished that he hadn’t helped you after all. He didn’t have to, but he did. Of course, you might’ve fallen on your ass if he hadn't, but still, there was a chance you wouldn’t have.

Maybe he was scared that you'd drop the pie you two worked so hard on, or maybe he was driven by a feeling of irrationality that had him doing before thinking.

You came to his side before calmly reaching out for his scorched palms. He withdrew naturally before he realized your intentions. He soon gently rested both of his unstable hands on yours.

Taking both of his trauma-filled hands, you investigated the swollen skin. You absent-mindedly started to run your digits all along the inflamed marks.

Reaching his palms, you could tell he was much warmer than he should’ve been.

In concern, you mildly pulled him by the wrist. Mindfully, you both treaded through the battlefield of a mess to the sink. You turned the faucet, bringing it to a slow, manageable pace.

Quickly, swatting your hand through the water to ensure it was at a safe temperature, you pulled his wrist again, motioning him to cool down the wound. He glared at you before giving in to your concerns. The water splashed the side of the sink in response to his hands suddenly changing the course of the mini waterfall.

He stayed quiet, looking down at you. "You realize I can’t feel it, right?"

"Yeah, but you’re still wounded." You rebutted his obvious observation, holding back the urge to say something witty.

You solemnly watched the liquid deliberately stop the inflammation. It wasn’t like you didn’t know about his medical condition; it was more that you didn’t like him denying his physical well-being. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal to him, but it was to you.

"...Thank you." The words dripped from the grit of his teeth lowly, almost like he didn’t want you to hear them.

You grinned hearing him force his pride away, "You’re welcome."

You looked him in the eyes and kept your smile. It felt right to help him, and it felt even better to hear him praise your efforts.

"We should probably-" He tried to speak until both of you were abruptly cut off by a noise neither of you wanted to hear.

The doorbell.

Heads turned to the front door; it was obvious they were back. Anticipation bubbled viciously in your stomach. How long had you two been messing around?

This wasn’t good. Neither of you was supposed to be here right now. It wasn’t part of the plan. You felt your body stiffen as you swiftly looked at your partner in crime. He seemed to stare at you just the same.

"Fuck."

-

Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)

Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)

Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342

A/N: I won't be participating much this year due to my personal life. Things are pretty messy over here, but I hope the oneshots I do post are okay!

-

[wonderlanddreamer]

[Armistice Day] Birmingham.

Lydia Shelby only has one wish for Christmas.

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The gypsy fair was alive with vibrant laughter and cheerful shouts, a racket of joy echoing from the rides and bustling stalls. The colours of the late afternoon sun painted a lively picture, but little Lydia Shelby found solace in a quieter corner, away from the hustle and bustle. She perched on a wooden bench, her small hands folded in her lap as she stared down at the ground.

Johnny Dogs, ever watchful, had followed her retreat from the noise. His face softened into a gentle smile as he crouched before her. "What's troubling ya, Lil'?" he asked tenderly, his accent a comforting melody to Lydia's ears.

Lydia lifted her eyes to meet his, her gaze filled with thoughts too profound for someone so young. "Johnny, do you believe in Santa?" she whispered.

Johnny moved to sit beside her, pondering her question. "Well, Lil', Santa's as real as the magic we create, y'know? But what's got ya askin'?"

Lydia sighed, her small shoulders bearing the weight of her hopes. "I asked Santa for something," she admitted, her voice quivering. "I wrote it all down, like you and Aunt Pol showed me."

Johnny nodded, recalling the list they had crafted together. "Aye, and what did ya ask for?"

She hesitated, then spoke with the pure innocence of a young child. "I only asked for one thing... for Tommy, John, and Arthur to come home from the war. Do you think Santa can do that, Johnny?"

Johnny felt a pang in his heart at her earnest wish. He gently placed a comforting hand on her back. "Ah, Lil', that's a mighty wish, it is. But your brothers, they're strong and brave. They love ya more than anything. And while Santa might be busy, they're fightin' hard to come back to ya."

Lydia nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I just miss them," she confessed, her voice small and sad.

Johnny gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll all be here waitin', Lil'. And when they do come back, we'll have the grandest celebration, bigger than this fair, I promise ya that."

A small smile graced Lydia's face, the first he'd seen all day. She leaned against him, comforted by his presence. "Thank you, Johnny," she whispered.

The next morning, the sun shone brightly over Watery Lane. Lydia played joyfully outside her house, her small feet dancing over the stones as she imagined herself in a world of her own creation.

Johnny Dogs strolled down the street, a familiar figure in his cap and coat. He carried with him the news of the day, a hope that had been missing for far too long. As he approached, Lydia spotted him and broke into a run, her little shoes tapping eagerly against the ground.

"Johnny! Johnny!" she called, her voice brimming with excitement.

Johnny bent down to greet her, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, look at ya, Lil! What's got ya all excited today?"

Lydia stopped in front of him, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of her news. "The war's finished, Johnny! The guns have stopped! We heard it on the radio! It's really over!"

Johnny felt a wave of joy at her announcement, it somehow sounding even better coming from her. "Aye, is that so, Lil'? Oh, that's the best news I've heard in ages!"

She nodded vigorously, her smile radiant. "It means Tommy, John, and Arthur can come home now, right? They'll come back to us?"

Johnny knelt to her level, his heart swelling with happiness. "That's right, little Shelby. They'll be comin' home, back to ya and the family. Your wish is comin' true."

Lydia clapped her hands together, her joy uncontainable. "I knew it, Johnny! I knew Santa got my wish! He really did!"

Johnny chuckled, touched by her innocent belief. "Aye, Lil', looks like Santa was listenin' after all, eh? Sometimes, the magic's real, just like we talked about."

As they stood there, basking in newfound hope, the street seemed brighter, the air lighter. The promise of reunion and happiness filled the air like the magic of Lydia's Christmas wish.

[bunchofrandomfandomsandbands]

Favorite Quotes from Supernatural

(That literally nobody asked for, but I’m bored)

Sam:

What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low sodium FREAKS.

It's not food anymore, Dean, it's Darwinism!

I lost my shoe.

(to Gabriel) So which one are you? Grumpy, Sleepy, or Douchy?

I've been tortured by the Devil himself. So you, you're just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?

Gabriel:

You can't take the trick out of the Trickster.

[Entering a Gas 'n' Sip] Ooh, smell that cancer. Delicious!

Hello, trickster

Lucifer, you are my brother and I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks

Castiel:

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it.

My 'people skills' are 'rusty'.

What part of ‘I don’t know’ escapes your understanding?

It's funnier in enochian.

This isn't funny, Dean! The voice says I'm almost out of minutes!

Hey, assbutt!

I'm an angel, you ass.

You know I can hear you both, I am a celestial being.

You have a Guinea Pig? Where?

Why is 6 afraid of 7? I assume it's because 7 is a prime number and prime numbers can be intimidating.

Let's play Twister.

I'll interrogate the cat.

You know what I like about him is that he’s sarcastic, but he’s thoughtful & appreciative too.

Dean:

Cass, get out of my ass!

PUDDINNGGG!

Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.

I'm sitting in a laundry-mat, reading about myself... sitting in a laundry-mat reading about myself. My head hurts.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole!

I mean come on, we hunt Monsters! Normal people - they see a monster and they run, but not us; we search out things that want to kill us. You know who does that? Crazy People! We are insane!

I'm Batman.

Saving people, hunting things, the familiy business.

Fight the fairies

Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cass, we're gonna ice the Devil, and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help them.

Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.

Crowley:

Hello, boys.

As you may recall: patience isn't one of my virtues... well, I don't have any virtues... but if I did I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them.

Torture? Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?

I torture all my friends. It's how I show love.

Chuck/God

You know what humanity's greatest creation has been? Music. That and nacho cheese. Even I couldn't have dreamt up that deliciousness.

Helped them?! I've saved them! I've rebuilt Castiel more times than I can remember. Look where that got me.

Lucifer

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Think about it: dad made everything, which means he made me who I am. God wanted the Devil!

Upper bunk? Lower bunk, or do you wanna share?

Snapping necks and cashing checks is what I do.

You know what they say? He who hesitates, disintegrates.

GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!

[jess-the-reckless]

I started out 2024 with a fervent prayer that it would be a nice, boring year with no major upheavals. Alas, that dream shat the bed before the end of February, so with one thing and another I've been a bit busy. Still chugging away with A Fete Worse Than Death, though, so here's a sneak peek of how pillow talk goes when you discover that your wife once spent part of the Cold War working undercover as a spectral chimpanzee.

________________________________

Crowley, champagne glass in one hand, flung back the covers. She patted the mattress next to her. “Get in,” she said. “Come on. Bedtime for Bonzo.”

Aziraphale slid down between the expensive sheets. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“No idea. Recurring brainfart, I think.”

Aziraphale plumped the pillow against her neck and settled in. She’d always loved this. As much as exploring each others bodies in bed was fun, sometimes it was just nice to talk. Whenever they were together she and Crowley had talked a lot, but it hadn’t been until they’d ended up tangled up beside the fire in the gardener’s cottage that their conversation had reached newer, deeper, more interesting levels. Sometimes the things they’d shared were profound, conversations carefully skirting the thing they had been unable to say out loud, and other times the details were small, and stupid, at least on a surface level. It was here, in a series of bedrooms, that Aziraphale had learned that Crowley hated Marmite almost as much as Aziraphale loved it, and that Crowley – for all her hair looked so shiny – sometimes fought a secret battle with dandruff. Aziraphale had consulted her library and determined that this delightful new level of conversation was that ‘pillow talk’ that lovers often did in books, and then had to make herself a very strong cup of tea, in order to remain sensible while grappling with the notion that she and Crowley were now lovers.

Pillow Talk – wasn’t that a film with Doris Day? The thought knocked something loose in Aziraphale’s mind. “Isn’t that a film, too?” she said. “Bedtime for Bonzo? I want to say Ronald Reagan, and I’ve no idea why that name rings a bell.”

Crowley blinked incredulously at her. “You amaze me sometimes. You know that?”

“Why? What have I done this time?”

“The man was President of the United States for eight years. You’re maybe the only living entity who can still write in cuneiform, but you remain wooly on Ronald Reagan? How?”

“I’ve been around for a long time, darling,” said Aziraphale. “I lost track of world leaders round about the time Alexander the Great was still handing out tips on intercrural. And there have been rather a lot of kings and emperors and presidents and such, especially lately. They’ve been going through them like lavatory paper in Westminster. Which one was Ronald Reagan again?”

“Cold War guy,” said Crowley. “Used to be in films.”

“How funny. I didn’t even realise he was an actor.”

“Neither did most people. He got upstaged by a chimp in Bedtime for Bonzo. Oh and that’s why it keeps coming back to me: it’s one of Satan’s favourite films.”

“Right,” said Aziraphale, perhaps even more confused than before. “Satan watches films starring chimpanzees?”

“Well, yeah. Eternal damnation. He’s got a lot of time on his hands.”

“I suppose so, yes. Was it a good film?”

“Fuck, no. It was a stinker,” said Crowley. “The chimpanzee playing Bonzo seemed to know Reagan was a wrong ‘un, too. She tried to strangle him with his own tie. Almost killed him, actually.” Crowley’s yellow eyes narrowed. “Wait…she wasn’t one of yours, was she?”

“One of our what?”

“Agents. Her name was Peggy. She was a girl chimp playing a boy chimp in the film, but in those days nobody minded if chimpanzees cross-dressed. She died mysteriously in a fire, and there were times when I wondered…well…if Downstairs had anything to do with her death.”

Aziraphale emptied her champagne flute in a long swallow, and topped it up. She had a feeling it was about to become one of those conversations. The kind where she needed a map.

“Right,” she said. “You thought Hell had murdered a chimpanzee? Why?”

“Because she tried to kill Reagan,” said Crowley. “Who was definitely one of ours, by the way.”

“An agent?”

“No, no. Just a very useful idiot. But it stands to reason that if you’ve got an idiot that useful to Hell, then your boss – what with omniscience being what it is and all – might have sent one of God’s creatures to…you know…” She pulled on an invisible tie and made choking noises. “…neck him.”

Too lazy to call room service again, Aziraphale miracled the bottle back to full. She was going to need a lot more champagne. “Crowley, are you seriously asking me if Heaven is in the habit of training chimpanzee assassins to eliminate future world leaders?”

“Yes,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale shook her head. “I think you’ve been watching too many James Bond films again, dear.”

“Nah. Like you always say, the Lord works in mysterious ways. If they’d known Hell had a target on Reagan’s back…I mean, that’s why they sent me.”

“You? To do what?”

Crowley shrugged, her bare, tanned shoulders bronze against the white linen. “Get in there and shake some things up,” she said. “The usual. At first I was like ‘don’t see what Satan sees in this guy’, but you didn’t have to know Ronnie for long to see that he was seething human crucible of vicious resentment and bile. He hated his fellow actors, especially the ones who were more talented than him, which was most of them. Including the chimp.”

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale. “You don’t think he set fire to poor Peggy, do you?”

“No. Although he wasn’t exactly crying too much about her death. It was pretty much ‘rest in piss, you scene-stealing monkey.’”

“How rude. She was an ape.”

“I know. And she was a scene-stealer, to be fair. Chimpanzees are naturally funny, whereas Reagan had all the comedy chops of a bucket of rendered animal fat. And it wasn’t just Peggy he had it in for. When he wasn’t being upstaged by a chimp he was busy denouncing his fellow creatives as Godless commies. He was a bastard, and a nuisance. All he needed to become a full-fledged monster was a little push. So I…pushed. How was I supposed to know it was going to end in trickle-down, AIDS deaths, and ketchup being reclassified as a vegetable? I just thought it would be amusing to spend some time as a chimpanzee.”

Aziraphale frowned, still no clearer than before. “Crowley, what are you telling me?” she said. “Am I to understand that you were the star of Bedtime for Bonzo?”

“No. Of course not. This was after Peggy died. Perfect, really – well, for me, not for Peggy. But it gave me an opportunity to play the role of a spectral chimpanzee. What better way than to taunt him by turning up as one of his funniest co-stars? It was only a part time gig anyway. I’d chimp up and then appear at his breakfast nook in the morning, or turn up driving his limo, with the hat and everything. Hats were a big part of it, actually. If you’re going to be a chimp you might as well wear a hat, because it’s funny. And I was hilarious. I had a fez at one point, and one with a propeller on the top, even though they’re kind of hack as far as comedy headwear goes. The viking helmet in the downstairs toilet properly freaked him out, though. Quite proud of that one.”

Fascinated, Aziraphale topped up their glasses. “All these years,” she said. “And I had no idea you’d spent part of the twentieth century as a chimpanzee. I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“Of course I can,” said Crowley. “I’m like if a medieval bestiary could own shoes. I spent most of the seventeenth century as a series of witch’s familiars.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. And not just snakes, either. I’ve got range.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “I’ve been black cats, hell hounds, bats, violent ferrets, suspicious toads – you name it. Regular menagerie, me. One time I was even a bewitched chicken in Norwich.” She winced at the memory. “That was an experience. Probably why I’m still quite elastic in the pelvic floor area, actually.”   

[hollymartinswrites]

Say Hi by HollyMartins

[ao3]

Summary:

In the mall food court, Lee Russell bumps into someone from his very recent past.

TW: Lee Russell comments on teen's weight because of course he would.

Notes:

So I’m on a Walton Goggins kick because of Fallout and I binged Vice Principals, not expecting for the amoral, selfish, dishonest, evil, sometimes arsonist that is Lee Russell to worm his way into my heart.

I don’t condone any of his actions but man, do I enjoy watching him do them. And I can’t believe there isn’t more fic about this show. Maybe the Ghoulggins renaissance will help.

Anyway, the Spring Break episode broke me when Janelle called him Uncle Lee and he gave her a kiss and said it was so good to see her. Was he lying? Probably. Do I like to believe he had a genuine soft spot for her because of Neal? Yes. Did I expect Lee Russell to be the catalyst out of my writing slump of nearly two years? No way in hell.

And now with new edits.

"Uncle Lee!"

Lee freezes, his good hand clenching around the styrofoam cup of diet soda. Thank God he had left his table of coworkers early and is now mercifully alone.

A hand touches his arm and he flinches but forces a smile as Janelle steps in front of him.

"I thought it was you," she says breathlessly, smiling.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replies, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it used to. He stops himself from hugging her, however. "Look at you. Looks like you finally did lose some weight."

Janelle rolls her eyes before observing, "I haven't seen you in forever."

Lee swallows. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she thinks he and her dad are still the best of friends and they regularly meet to bullshit and laugh and get on each other's fucking nerves.

"I've been busy," he lies. "What with the physical therapy, and now this promotion. Being a regional manager is just as hard as being a principal. I don't know who are bigger pieces of shit, high school students, customers, or corporate."

Janelle glances down at his gloved hand and he frowns.

"But do you like your job?" she asks instead.

"Course I do. I finally have a nice discount on shit I actually want to buy. You know how much I hated going to Staples."

Janelle smiles tightly and goes quiet, both very much aware that Lee has never stepped foot inside a Staples in his life. He hopes a friend of hers will pop up and whisk her away to Spencer's or Claire's or wherever the fuck teenage girls hang out in at a mall. But as the silence stretches towards awkwardness, he has no choice but to clear his throat.

"So, how's school?"

Fuck.

Janelle shrugs.

"It's okay," she admits. "The teachers aren't bad and I made some new friends. Wish Dad was still there, though."

Something in Lee's chest twists and he looks down at the sticky, outdated, and frankly ugly as shit tiles of the food court.

"Wish you were there, too."

Lee's head snaps up so fast he knows he'll have to make another visit to his acupuncturist soon. That twisty feeling in his chest tightens as he sees the wistful look on Janelle's face. He tries to offer a smile again but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Fuck. He used to be good at bullshit.

"You wouldn't want that," he insists. "Wouldn't want the other students being judgy pricks because you have an in with the principals, right?"

Janelle shrugs again. Lee has never been one for comforting but he feels a need to put his arm around her. He very nearly does until he remembers he's still holding a half-empty cup of tepid soda. And he's not about to bring his fucked up arm near her. Later, he'll wonder if this was one of those profound moments in a teenager's life where they could really use some guidance or understanding or even just some fucking acknowledgement. He has no idea because all he can bring himself to do is offer her his discount anytime she comes into his store. At this, she actually laughs.

"No offense, Uncle Lee," she says, wrinkling her nose, "but your store isn't really my style."

"Oh, and this is?" he asks, motioning at her outfit with the soda. She laughs again. Lee relaxes. This is easy. This is familiar. "What'd you do, go dumpster diving at Goodwill?"

Janelle just shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, a smirk on her face. At least she gets his sense of humor. Suddenly, a voice calls her name and Lee turns to see three teenage girls heading their way. Thank God.

"I gotta go," she says. "We gotta catch a movie."

"Alright," he says and steps out of her way, allowing her to walk past him.

"See ya," she says over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dad you said hi."

"Yeah," Lee sighs as she rushes towards her friends. "Yeah, you tell him."

[3rddimension]

Wow just like Ian's episode, today's Anthony episode of the Smoshcast is the best. I love hearing about Smosh history and bts stuff.

-Shayne's story about how Anthony said goodbye to him the last shoot day he had before leaving already make me emo, but Anthony revealing that he had specifically chased him to the parking lot to say goodbye BROKE ME, even S was emotional finding that out. He's been remembering and telling this story one way this whole time, and now there's a whole new layer

-Hearing Shayne talk about how he feels like Anthony's exit in 2018 took the pressure off of the Pit Squad, because the higher-ups were focusing on Smosh main. And how that allowed the cast to make the most fresh pit content lead by Sarah!!! How they became bonded and their friendship truly shined and that's what the dna of Smosh always had been since Ian and Anthony. I've always felt that way about that era of Smosh Pit but it's so special to hear it coming from him, and to realize that the cast (and C and S alone) probably have reflective convos about the past in this detailed manner

-Fascinating to hear S say that the recent half scripted half non-scripted Smosh Main content felt at some point like Smosh Pit second channel to them. I never thought of it that way but he's so right. Shows like funeral roasts, exes interviews and reading Dms/dating profiles do have Pit dna. Like the improve in a contained setup feels very Smosh Pit theatre. That used to be the channel youd go to see the cast's personalities and different brands of comedy interact through improve and fun. Smosh Main was always scripted/sketch. He's basically re-enforcing the idea that they were unsure what direction to go with after EBE, and they sort of leaned towards Pit type content because that was their star child and best performing channel which is insane and makes me happy. Now all is as it should be with Smosh Main being scripted sketch and any improv shows or vids should be on Pit. With Games being all types of games

-i love Shayne reminding people that it was truly Ian who saved Smosh, Rhett and Link stepped in and provided a second chance to the channel. But Ian was the one carrying Smosh through it so he should get the credit. Absolutely king dad 👑 also all the observations about Ian and his leading style and his persistence and his comedy were so sweet, Ian isn't the most sentimental guy esp when talking about himself but his coworkers and friends clearly see the value and good in him, he deserves the world

-i love this trio, Anthony sounds super profound and introspective which is refreshing, Shayne is a very empathetic person and a great listener and Amanda is so charismatic and joyful. I love seeing her learn about Smosh and the folklore behind it all, she's on the podcast representing the viewer basically,fangirling and learning bts things in real time with us

-I'm so excited about Anthony revealing that 1) Ian and Anthony are gonna launch a podcast, I love them and their friendship and I'm sure at some point they're gonna be able to pull the craziest guests. And 2) he revealed that part of their business plan is to figure out how each cast member shines and give them a show/format in which they can portray that. Clearly that's what we've been seeing with ot3 (Damien swordaf, Shayne reddit and smoshcast, Courtney's new pit endeavors coming up), it's good to have confirmation that that's a priority

Damn, thanks for the writeup anon! I watched it last night too and it's such a good episode. Gonna add smosh tag on this one. Here's the video if you wanted to watch the whole thing!

[bpdfox]

Vent/thought dump I wrote a month ago. It's long and disjointed and I was also high when I wrote it. Figured I'd put it here, this is sorta where my head has been lately.

Am I nothing more than a mirror??

I don't know how to even get my thoughts out. I'm so… isolated.

I've felt a profound sense of isolation and separateness since I was born. Like literally.

Sitting there picking holes in my leg, pulling the hairs out so I know I can feel.

I can only think clearly when I'm tearing myself apart.

HOW CAN I GET WHATS INSIDE OF MY HEAD OUT?

Even today during therapy my therapist just sort of

I NEED TO BE SEEN.

She just sort of like. Had a lot of stuff she needed to process with all of the church shit and all of the fucking bullshit going on with that

I'm not worth it unless I can provide a service to someone else

I cannot connect

I don’t know if I'm capable of connecting and that scares me. That terrifies me. I can't imagine going the rest of my life feeling this way. I don't think I can. I can't.

I feel so small when I'm on these, everything is tall and towering above me

I feel inferior, threatened, judged when I'm around my younger brother. Even he is rejecting me? I've been asking him to play some games with me for weeks and he wont and I feel so fucking stupid trying to

Its' like im a kid trying to tell my dad that my goat is dying in the shed but he's too busy working

I CANNOT CONNECT

When my aunt was trying to use her fucking 'healing' bullshit on me and she was sitting there holding my arms and telling me what she thought was going on in my brain, that I was having such a hard time, blah blah. She was telling me exactly what was going on in her brain. She was using me as a reflection.

I'm' not your fukcing passion project

People only come to me when they need something from me

I'm a project, a side project, a 'once-in-a-while' hobby that maybe they’ll return to when they get bored

I'm so alone. I'm always alone.

I've felt this way since I was a kid

Even in my old friend gorups I was always the odd one out, people would cycle through me and talk to me if they

I AM NOT ENOUGH

IM NOT WORTHY OF CONNECTING WITH

I AM NOT WORTH CONNECTING TO

WHY

I was ripped out of my mother's womb and isolating was the only way I survived

I had to be in a stupid fucking box, incubating me, with the stupid fucking earmuffs that made everything louder, and I WAS ALONE

I WAS ALONE

I WAS ALONE

My mom is only talking to me about my brother

My brother is a fucking homophobic asshole and it makes me so sad and scared and upset and mad that my mom wants him to feel supported

I'm leaving my feet behind always, I'm forgetting them

My legs don't feel like a part of me, I don't feel like a part of my body. Is this what people mean by out of body experience

Even my therapist

Idont thinki can fucking do this

Im a leech, im a leech im a leech im a leech im a leech and im alone

And that's how I'll always be

My brother is going to his fucking stupid homophobic transphobic stupid fucking religious cunt ass fucking school and

I HOPE OAKS DIES, I REALLY DO. I REALLY FUCKING DO

I HOPE HE CHOKES ON A FUCKING FORK, I HOPE IT GETS WEDGED IN HIS FUCKING ESOPHAGUS AND HE ASPHIXIATES ON HIS OWN FUCKING BLOOD

I'm not worth connecting to

I cant get anything out and that scares me so bad

Because nobody understands unless I can get it out but I fucking cant I fucking cant

All I am is disgusting, gross, unloved

I'm only loved if I meet the conditions, if I meet the criteria. I can't do taxidermy in the barn but my brother can tan a rabbit hide inside the house?

I'm a hazard an inconvenience. I didn’t want to eat what the rest of the family wanted but that didn't matter. I'm a scavenger, I have to pick from what's left and hope I can make it through the night.

I'm disgusting I have mental fleas I'm always itchy and crawling and I can never fucking get comfortable, never get comfortable, I'm so tense all the time, I cant get to sleep because I cant get comfortable, I'm not meant to be in my fucking body

I think everyone can see it and that's

All I am is a hole

Is this all there is?

I noticed a new spot on my scalp, scab scab scab. Ipicked it. Why do I evne bother trying to not pick. Who am I fucking doing it for.

Im so fucking alone. I think im fucking cursed like genuinely. I cannot fucking connect. No matter how hard I try. And so I isolate and I sabotage myself

I'm fucking disgusting im not worth taking care of im not wroth anything. Im not worth anything. Im not worth anything. I'm a leech im a leech im a leech I'm a scab I'm a fucking useless piece of shit. EVERYONE CAN FUCKING SEE IT. EVERYONE CAN FUCKING SEE IT. And that's why im alone and that’s why that willn ever fukcing change

I try to show my photography and I just get a

Its no wonder I started fukcing drinking I cannot handle it. I cant handle it.

I have been drowning and alone since I was born at 28 weeks old. And nobody fucking cares. And nobody fucking sees. All I am is a mirror.

I don’t have a fucking personality I just cling to whoever I hope will give me approval and I don’t even pay attention to whether I'm liking whatever the fuck it is, all that matters is that they're having a good time

I can't keep doing this but I don’t think I can stop. I was programmed this way and this is all I know how to do and it's going to fucking kill me. It is going to fucking kill me.

I'm running myslef over again and again I'm the coyote that wasn't fast enough and I'm the car that didn't stop. I'm the road that wasn't takencare of and the guts that spilled across it and the dying breath of the animail terrified alone and that's all that I will ever fucking be. Only here for the bugs. I'm carrion. I'm already dead and im wasting away and everybody can see it and nobody will ever love me because once they see past the mirror all that's left is the fucking pit. The hole the empty the nothing.

I have to be funny because then maybe if im lucky they’ll want to stick around but I don’t thinkanybody really does. I'm always terrified that they will leave. They are going to leave me when they realize how useless you are.

Myeyes hurt.

I havent cried like that in so long. It gets stuck inside me and it's like congested. I'm congested and I cant get anything out and im ALONE AND NOBODY CARES AND NOBODY SEES

I CANT FUCKING DO THIS. I CANT FUCKING DO THIS.

IF I DON’T G

I CANT DO THIS

I AM

It's all loss IT'S ALL LOSS. ALWAYS. REJECTION REJECTION REJECTION

I CANNOT

HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO GO ON HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KEEP GOING LIKE THIS.

MY BROTHER HAS FRIENDS MY SISTER HAS FRIENDS

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME??

I'M ROTTING. I'M NOTHING. I'M WASTING AWAY HERE AND IM USELESS.

I cannot

I'm really struglging with how alone I am. How alone I am. How alone I am

Christ.

Something broke insidwe of me but theres nbody there to witness it

Ive been out to them for ten fucking years. And they still misgender me. They don’t bother to get it right. I don’t know if my sister's husband even knows im nonbinary

I'm not fucking worth the effort. Im not worth the effort. WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN TRYING

I'm howling alone and im hoping to hear a response but it's only mirrored

Nobody will ever respond

And even if they did I don’t know if it could reach me truly. Im in a fucking bubble. Im a specimen under glass for inspection and reflection and to look at when things get boring but I always endup back on the shelf.

Went through everyone in thefamily except for me . Left me out of the speech.

All im good for is to consume

I can only think clearly when I'm hurting myself

Picking myself apart

I'm going to be alone. Christ im going to be alone.

I don’t understand it and im struglging to keep up

I can feel myself closing up again. Goodbye.

The doors are closing again.

[hircyon]

I don't remember if I've posted this before and I'm too busy at the moment to check. An excerpt from another piece I'll probably never publish online. For context, this is Astrid recounting a long-dead lover to Zeeyal.

She flipped through her datapad for a minute before settling on a picture she thought captured a decent visage of the genius she once knew, and pushed it across the table.

“Moralo Eval.”

She caught the flinch, knew the way that name had become poisonous in his mind. He pulled the datapad toward himself and glared down at the man he was in constant competition with—whether he knew it or not.

“Eval,” he touched his claws to his lip, not studying the picture now as much as digging through his memory. “You’re sure that’s the name?”

“I’m sure.”

He growled softly under his breath, concentrating.

“I…I don’t know that one.”

“Not surprising, I’m pretty sure he made it up.”

“Made it up?” Zeeyal asked incredulously. “We don’t just make up clan names. It’s—it’s your family, it’s everything.”

“Moralo was unique. He, I think, despised his nature and his culture. Being a Phindian meant nothing to him. And, as far as I could tell, he was running from something. His entire life, he spent running. Even after he went back to Phindar. If you look him up, you’ll know the crimes he was accused of, but as someone very close to him for a long time…I don’t think he committed those crimes. He confessed to them, but still. There was something else, some part of him nobody could get close to. Maybe that’s what fascinated me about him. He was empty, like me.”

Zeeyal absorbed this with fascinated attention. Astrid continued.

“He was a genius and a psychopath. Genuinely, on both accounts. He didn’t care about other people, at least, not on the surface. I loved him, because it was, ah, comfortable for me, to be used like that. It was what I knew, and he was good at it. He gave me potential.”

The Phindian’s sharp gaze lingered on her for a few moments, as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he turned his attention again to the picture.

“He’s…not handsome, but striking. Definitely striking.” Zeeyal’s eyes flicked up, a mischievous look from below his eye ridges. “How was he?”

“Dominant and forceful. Always in control. He drew blood and he fucked hard.”

Zeeyal bit his lip gently, scraping with his golden fangs. She could see him imagining it. Astrid would love to pull herself into his lap and know what it was doing to him, but she restrained herself.

What she didn’t tell him—what she could never say about Moralo out loud—was the way she’d seen through him in sudden moments, like turning off the lights and seeing through one-way transparisteel. How profound that interior emptiness had been. How she’d felt lying against him, back to back, trusted to be vigilant. In those silent moments, he’d given her his life; the only thing he’d ever valued.