#sometimes fate a breeze smacks you in the face

[ryuusea]

a new beginning, with you.

sherliam modern au comic

[skyloftian-nutcase]

A Promise of Armor (Breath of the Wild Miphlink story)

I’m a sucker for these two, really.

Summary: Mipha planned on giving Link the Zora armor, yet 100 years later it was found in Zora’s domain in her family’s safekeeping. So what happened on that fateful evening when she was to offer it? Did she gather the courage or decide to keep her feelings to herself?

The sunset glittered on the water’s surface, a wavy disc of glowing gold and crimson that cast watery patterns of light all over the rock walls. The air was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and the coolness of the breeze and Vah Rutah’s trunk beneath him balanced it well. Link remained still as Mipha continued to heal his arm, watching her work. The glow of her magic illuminated her face like the stones that glittered around the Domain, and Link found his eyes lingering on her face for far longer than he’d intended.

 By the goddesses, she’s beautiful.

 Mipha was talking softly about the past, singlehandedly carrying the conversation as she often did. Link sometimes felt bad at how quiet he’d grown around her, but at this point he could barely make himself speak around anyone. The Calamity was coming closer, doubt was greater than ever about Zelda’s abilities, and more pressure was being put on him. He wanted nothing more than to be able to make Mipha smile and speak with her, but he could barely get more than two words strung together around anyone outside of those who could directly relate to what he was feeling. Mipha was a Champion of the Zora – she understood the pressures as well, which was honestly why he could speak to her at all at this point, but she was to act as support. The duty was Link’s to end things.

 The anxiety was crippling, and he wasn’t sure he could take it much longer. He hated this tense anticipation that had been hanging over everyone. A part of him wished Ganon would just arrive so they could get it over with, as if it were a simple knight academy test, and he wanted to smack himself for it.

 “I was always willing to heal your wounds, even back then.”

 Link felt his arm grow warm as if dipped in a hot spring, the muscles relaxing. Mipha’s supporting hand on his skin had made his entire body react, and he felt a little relieved as she pulled away, the healing finished. His heart rate slowed, and he examined his arm, still in awe of the power she had.

 “So if this Calamity Ganon does, in fact, return, what can we really do?”

 Link shifted, trying to take a relaxed posture beside her. He felt his chest tighten at the question, at hearing doubt from someone who he wanted least to utter it.

 “We just don’t seem to know much about what we’ll be up against,” Mipha said uncertainly. Link glanced at her, worried and confused. He wished he could reassure her, tell her it would be fine; he honestly didn’t know where this worry was coming from. Mipha had always been determined and eager to help, always happy to see him and wanting to catch up, but she seemed so serious this evening. He supposed maybe she was feeling the pressure as much as he was.

 Mipha’s eyes grew determined as she continued, “But know this: no matter how difficult this battle might get… if you—if anyone tries to do you harm, then I will heal you.”

 Link’s anxiety melted a little at the reassurance, at the sheer absolute certainty of the statement. Mipha looked him dead in the eyes when she spoke, wanting to ensure he knew she was serious. He wouldn’t have doubted her anyway.

 “No matter when, or how bad the wound, I hope you know… that I will always protect you.”

 Link swallowed, his throat dry. This was both something he didn’t want to hear and was exactly what he wanted to hear. He didn’t know how to feel, his mind was whirling, they were so close and she was pledging to protect him. He felt so safe in the knowledge and so terrified at the same time, like he didn’t even want to ponder the idea that she’d be anywhere near the danger… but more than anything, her words felt like an embrace, a promise that he wouldn’t be facing this alone.

 Tears began to sting in his eyes, and he swallowed again, biting his tongue in an attempt to keep himself together. Thankfully, Mipha was looking at her own clasped hands in her lap, so she didn’t see the emotional hurricane that was tossing his heart and mind in twenty different directions at once.

 “Once this whole thing is over…” she said, and suddenly her posture shifted from the sincere and heartfelt promise to something far shier. “Maybe things can go back to how they used to be when we were young.”

 Link marveled at the thought of it, at the thought of anything after it was over. He hadn’t given a single moment to considering such a thing, too wrapped up in what was happening at the moment. Had Mipha been thinking about it a lot?

 When we were young… Link remembered his time in the Domain as a child, running around and playing with the other children in the area, laughing and spending hours with Mipha, exasperating Muzu to no end. He almost felt a ghost of a smile trace his lips at the thought of it, but it didn’t quite reach his face, because those days were so long ago, and they felt impossibly far away.

 “You know… perhaps we could spend some time together?”

 Raising his eyes from her lap, he saw her smiling at him, and his heart fluttered at the sight. By the goddesses, he wanted nothing more than to be able to spend time with Mipha and not constantly worry about his destiny. It was the reason he’d decided to return to the Domain, to get away from all of it while he still had small bits of time to do so.

 Link tried to speak, tried to say he would love to spend time with her. He wished he could stay with her now right here on Vah Rutah and never leave. He looked into her eyes and wanted to say so much, but he just couldn’t. She looked so sincere, so hopeful, and his throat tightened up. Mipha let out a small, nervous laugh, looking at the sunset, and Link wanted to punch himself for leaving her hanging like that.

 “I guess I’m just rambling,” she muttered, looking at her clasped hands again.

 That was it, he had to do something.

 Reaching over, he took her hand in his own. The touch made her blush, but for Link it was a gesture of kindness more than anything. However, their arms brushed for just a moment, and her cool skin against his made the hair on his arm stand up. He cleared his throat, trying to figure out what he could do or say, his heart already racing once more.

 Mipha seemed to take courage in the gesture, and she squeezed his hand. “Link, I… I want to give you something.”

 Link turned to face her a little better, cocking his head to the side. Mipha reached behind her for a bag, and she hesitated. He watched her for what seemed like an eternity as she debated with herself, and he wondered what sort of a gift this could be that she would be unsure about giving it to him. Did she think he wouldn’t like it?

 Did she think he didn’t deserve it?

 Link bit the inside of his cheek, chasing the doubting thought away. She had literally just promised to protect him and be there for him. This was likely related to that. So why would she hesitate after making such a declaration?

 Taking a deep breath, Mipha reached into the bag and pulled out a blue article of clothing. She held it out to him with her head bowed, not making eye contact. Link slowly took the clothing from her, touched that she would make something for him. He traced his fingers over the garment and realized it was a form of armor, which made him even happier. This was tied directly into her promise to protect him, and he found himself completely at a loss for words even if he were able to speak them.

 And then he saw the scale.

 Link had spent years at the Domain. He knew their lore, their history, their culture. He knew what that represented.

 This was Zora armor that princesses gifted to their betrothed.

 Link felt his heart seemingly stop. His world grew quiet, his mind numb. He stared at the armor, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful, precious scale in the center of the chest piece.

 Mipha’s scale.

 Movement caught his eye, and he saw Mipha’s hands fidgeting in her lap. His eyes slowly traced their way up her figure, looking for where the scale could have come from, wondering if it had already grown back, wondering if it had hurt to remove it, and then his eyes met hers.

 Gold looked into blue, waiting for an answer. Blue looked into gold, shocked that it was even a question.

 Link leaned forward and seemingly melted into her, his hands reaching for her face and pulling her into a kiss.

 His body was screaming. His heart was going to explode. What am I doing?!

 Pulling away quickly, he felt his cheeks burn with horror and embarrassment. He briefly caught a glimpse of her own blush, her wide eyes, and he looked down. His gaze landed on the armor, and he felt his world spin around him.

 Mipha loved him. Mipha wanted to marry him.

 This was… this was too much. This couldn’t be happening.

 Did he love her? Of course he did. But could he emotionally handle this? Would this even be possible? She was a princess, he knew the difference between him and her, the protocols, the expectations, the—

 The fingernails tracing under his chin, small calloused hands pushing his gaze back to their owner.

 Mipha watched him, her face a mixture of so many emotions. She glowed with happiness, her brow creased in worry, she bit her lip with anxiety, tears glistened in her eyes with hope…

 Link let out a sob, catching himself and his friend off guard. He covered his mouth immediately, horrified and panicked. Another sob tried to push its way out of him, and he bit his lip until it bled. The sob escaped anyway, though with his lips closed it sounded more like a choke. His vision swam with unshed tears.

 Stop, stop, stop—

 He didn’t know what to do, his body completely foreign all of a sudden. He looked down, squeezing his eye shut, his entire body shaking with each cry that silently tore out of him. Somehow, despite the fact that he was bawling, he was still silent.

 And then he smiled. He looked up and he smiled at her, his face stained with tears, his lips trembling as the cries still escaped them in soft gasps.

 She loves me. She wants to be with me. She promises to be with me, to support me, to help me.

 Link had felt so isolated, so alone this entire time. Zelda had been opening up to him, and they’d become good friends in that time, but there was still a distance between them, a formality that had never existed between Mipha and Link despite how they had to behave in public around each other.

 More than that, Link had loved Mipha this entire time. Her gentleness, her caring nature, her determination, her laughter, everything about her he had loved for what felt like years now. Age and the times had tempered his mannerisms around her, but not his heart… if anything his body had become more reactive around her as the year had gone by. And though he’d gotten stolen glances from her, though she’d been attentive and caring, he’d never suspected it was anything more than their dear and close friendship from childhood.

 Mipha finally moved, interpreting his reaction correctly. She smiled, tears freely falling, and pulled him into a hug. Link let out a laugh mixed with a sob, completely out of control, collapsing into her small frame.

 “I love you,” Mipha whispered as she held him tightly, her body trembling.

 I love you too, he thought, too overwhelmed to speak. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her in return. He pulled away to look her in the eye, his tears finally subsiding. Mipha’s gaze drifted to his lips and she made a soft noise.

 “Your lip,” she noted, and Link vaguely remembered biting it to the point of breaking the skin. He hadn’t noticed the bleeding, his face already wet with tears running down his cheeks and chin. Mipha returned her gaze to his eyes. “Let me heal it.”

 Link leaned back a little so her hand could touch his face, and she put a hand on his cheek, her thumb tracing his lower lip. His entire body shuddered, and goosebumps rose all over his skin. He couldn’t look away from her, the air stolen from his lungs.

 A faint glow emitted from her hand, shining in both their eyes as they refused to break contact, and Mipha bent forward slowly as they both leaned into another kiss. The hand that had been on his face stroked his cheek, the long nails tickling his skin.

 As they pulled away, both hovered close to each other, not yet ready to entirely let go. Mipha finally broke the silence, whispering, “Take your shirt off.”

 If it was possible, Link’s heart raced even faster, his eyes widening. The immediate statement that came to mind was, I’ll take everything off if you want, and he felt his cheeks burn at the mere thought of it. It was a good thing he couldn’t speak at the moment.

 Mipha also suddenly blushed, stuttering, “W-wait, I meant—like so you can try the armor—I—I—”

 Spluttering, Mipha leaned away from him entirely, burying her face in her hands. The heat in Link’s body diminished, replaced with affection, and he let out a small laugh as he also leaned back. He slipped out of his Champion tunic with ease, respectfully folding it and putting it aside while Mipha still tried to rationalize her statement. He picked up the armor and marveled at the sensation of it once more before slowly slipping it over his head. The fit was perfect, snug and comfortable without clinging, and it slid over him like water over a stone. He cleared his throat to get Mipha’s attention.

 Looking up, Mipha was about to say something else when she gasped instead. “You… you look…”

 Link smiled at her as she was suddenly lost for words, and he found that he had the strength to fill the void. “Thank you.”

 The rest of the sunset was spent in silence, side by side as they watched the vestiges of light drain from the sky. Stars came out, sparkling and shimmering, winking at the couple. Eventually the night air grew chilly, and despite huddling together for warmth, both recognized that it was time to go.

 “I… have another surprise for you,” Mipha said as Vah Rutah’s trunk lowered to the water.

 Link looked at her curiously. What more could she possibly give than herself? What more could he possibly give in return?

 “I suppose you noticed the… the new accommodations at the dock. They’ve been there for a while.”

 Link looked over at the dock where the stairs fed into the reservoir. Yes, he’d noticed the beautiful overhang, a seeming little protective area with chairs, a desk, and a bed. It had been there for a few months now, and he’d seen it on his last two visits. He’d wondered what it was about; Mipha didn’t need a bed to sleep in, though she could do so if desired. He couldn’t think of who else would need a bed by her Divine Beast.

 “They’re for you.”

 His eyes snapped back to Mipha.

 The Zora princess’ white, glossy cheeks were so stained with red they were almost indistinguishable from her red scales. “I… I had it made for you so we could spend time together here. I just… I—I wasn’t sure if, well, you know, if you’d… it was just a lot, and it seemed like a weird thing to say if you weren’t—well, what I mean is—”

 Link planted a quick kiss on her lips to save her from herself. The sensation was still so new, so electrifying, so amazing. Mipha giggled in relief, understanding the gesture. Without another word, both dove off the trunk of the Divine Beast and swam to the dock.

 Walking to the small bedroom, Link examined the area. There were multiple elixirs and ingredients for cooking on the table, as well as serving dishes and cups. The bed had multiple warm blankets and was clearly a water bed, much to his delight.

 Laughter made his ears perk up, but it wasn’t Mipha’s. It was somewhere else, distant, off in the main part in the Domain.

 Reality suddenly came crashing down in an instant.

 Link was a lowly knight, whether he was chosen by destiny or not, and he was a Hylian. Mipha was a Zora princess, beloved by her people, one of whom was the king’s closest advisor and was not a fan of Hylians. Whether they loved each other or not… this was not a simple matter.

 Heaviness crushed him, and he felt the happiness drain out of him.

 “Link? What’s wrong?” Mipha asked, worried.

 Surprisingly, he could choke out the word. “Muzu.”

 Mipha paused a moment, and then sighed. “I know. But that’s not something to worry about right now. We’ll figure it out after everything is over.”

 Yes. Yes, they would. After everything is over. For once, Link could actually consider such a thing. But it didn’t last long, and he was back in the present, destiny waiting for him to fulfill his duty.

 But he wasn’t alone.

 Link nodded and smiled at Mipha, at his friend, at his fiancée.

 She smiled back. “Do you like the room?”

 Link gave a single dip of his head to heartily answer her, and she beamed. Then he glanced at the armor once more as he realized that this beautiful gift would have to remain hidden while he was in the Domain… and probably beyond the Domain’s borders as well. He was still the Hylian Champion, and that was his biggest priority right now.

 Though perhaps people outside of the Domain wouldn’t understand what the armor meant. Perhaps he could wear it into battle.

 But no. He should respect the effort Zelda had put into the Champion garb she had made for everyone. It was only fitting that he wore that instead. It spoke of a different promise, of a duty to fulfill, one that he hadn’t done yet.

 And so, with loving and reverent movements, he slipped out of the armor Mipha had made for him, and folded it, holding it out to her. “Keep it safe?”

 Mipha, face now somehow redder than her fins, cleared her throat. “O-of course.”

 Link put the Champion tunic back on and smiled at her. The two settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Link sank into the bed, patting the empty space beside him. Mipha’s eyes widened, but she didn’t argue, slipping under the covers, her body pressed against his. Despite her quickened breathing and their proximity, Link felt relaxed, comfortable, safe. He exhaled slowly, planting a small kiss on her head and then closing his eyes. Mipha’s muscles eased beside him, and he felt her pull the covers tightly around them.

 With consciousness fading away and worries held at bay by the woman he loved, Link finally had the courage to say it. “I love you.”

 He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling. “I love you too.”

[oioinanami]

routines. (ushijima wakatoshi x f. reader)

word count: 1.9k

synopsis: ushijima had never considered himself to be a „relationship person“ - until he met you.

contains: fluff, acquaintances to lovers, very slight sexual suggestiveness if you squint

Ushijima Wakatoshi had always considered himself a stoic and reserved man. He lived and breathed for volleyball. He went running every morning, ate three meals a day, showered twice. He had his routines and he liked it like that.

But then came you - and everything suddenly changed. It was his best friend Tendou - charming, loud and fun Tendou - who introduced you to one another, probably not even thinking about Ushijima ever falling for you, or anyone really, it just seemed too ridiculous, too far fetched. Of course Ushijima had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never anything serious, and all of those were mostly just for him to blow off some steam. He had never felt the need for a real and stable relationship before. But you - you felt different to him; like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy day, like rays of sunlight gently warming his cold face, like a soft and sweet scented breeze on the first day of early spring.

The first time he ever had the pleasure of meeting you and seeing you smile up at him, eyes bright and honest, he was absolutely helpless against the blush spreading over his cheeks and entire face until even the tips of his ears had turned red. As soon as his best friend Tendou saw the crimson color on his captain’s face, he suddenly sported the biggest smirk Ushijima had ever seen. The stoic volleyball player immediately knew that he was in trouble, in big big trouble. But it was too late - Tendou’s brain was already beginning to come up with a plan to set you two up.

So to Ushijima, it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Tendou began to invite you to all their volleyball matches, and being the sweet and supportive friend that you simply were, you actually tried to attend as often as possible. You cheered for the entire team, even though you were mostly acquainted with Tendou, knowing the others' faces and names, but none of them personally. Ushijima always tried his best during any game, no matter who was watching or not, but Tendou still noticed the way his best friend and team captain was trying maybe just a tad harder whenever you were present during a match. Should the team win while you were there, which was more often than not these days, Tendou literally dragged you with him to join the team for their celebratory dinners afterwards. Somehow you always ended up sitting beside Ushijima, slowly getting used to his stoic and calm presence, and beginning to try and make him smile by cracking an almost ridiculous amount of jokes around him. More often than not, your sarcasm went straight over his head, and once he even inquired if you were going to therapy after you jokingly said you were ready to kill for another of the extremely tasty Onigiri being served that evening. You only realized he himself was joking when you saw the tiny, private smile tugging at his lips. Maybe that was the moment you began falling for him, and you never stopped tumbling since.

After a few weeks of helpless pining, or as he called it “making sure his feelings were sincere”, Ushijima finally decided to ask you on a date. He just didn’t know how; he knew other people considered him blunt to the point of rudeness, and he never wanted you to see him in that way, he didn’t want to scare you off - even though you had never seemed to mind his directness before. Asking Tendou for help was definitely out of the question, because Ushijima knew his best friend literally didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut in times of need, so he’d probably just instantly tell you everything and Ushijima couldn’t have that.

But as fate would have it, he didn’t even need Tendou’s help - because a situation presented itself, so perfect, at least in his eyes, that Ushijima still smiled about it years afterwards. It was the last and therefore most important match of the season, and Shiratorizawa had not only won the first set, but was also currently in the lead for the second one. Only one point and they’d go to the nationals again. Naturally, you were pretty much at the edge of your seat, one closest to the field, all thanks to Tendou shooing away some younger girls before the match had begun and, unknown to you, making sure Ushijima had the perfect view of you cheering him on. You were currently biting your lips until you tasted blood, knees bouncing nervously while your eyes followed the boys on the field, more often than not landing on Ushijima. By now, you probably should have gotten used to him looking way too handsome in the team’s uniform, but even after months of seeing him wear it, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you attended any game. “Please, please, please, come on, boys, you can do it.”, you were muttering under your breath, the girl beside you giving you the side-eye but you just ignored her, heart beating twice as fast while you watched the game. Both teams were fighting for dominance, no one wanting to back down, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and nervousness. And then, it happened - Tendou’s quick eyes followed the ball, asserting which angle to use to best set it for Ushijima, who was already running towards the net for one of his incredible spikes. Rarely if ever could someone withstand the sheer power of his left hand, so no one was completely surprised when, a second later, the ball hit the ground with a loud smacking noise, resounding around the gym. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, before happy yells rose all around you and loud music suddenly started blasting from somewhere behind you. You were out of your seat in a split second, running towards where the team was hugging and high fiving each other on the field. “Ushi, that was amazing-”, you stated proudly, almost breathless with happiness, but were unable to complete your sentence because suddenly, there was a pair of strong arms around you, literally sweeping you off your feet and twirling you around once. You yelped, heart fluttering like crazy while you stared up at Ushijima, who had just set you back down on your feet again, the corners of his lips curling upwards into the tiniest of smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate your support.”, he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you swore your knees were about to give out right there and then. You knew he wasn’t just being polite - he was being honest, his words always truthful, and it made your heart swell to know he liked you coming to his games. You had long learned to love his directness. Other people called him blunt, you called him honest, which was something not a lot of people could say about themselves, not in the modern times of Snapchat filters and Snow Apps. Ushijima cocked his head to one side, looking at you for a few seconds, his greenish-brown eyes almost unreadable, before he took in a deep breath. “I would really like to take you out on a date, if that’s something you’d want too.”, he then stated, and you just blinked a few times, before your face split into a huge smile, which made Ushijima’s heart burst and a deep blush creep onto his cheeks. It was the smile that had made him fall for you in the first place, the one he would never ever get used to - even years from now, when he was nothing more than stardust left behind, every single atom that once belonged to his body would still remember your smile, forever branded into the inner core of his soul, he was sure of it. And then you finally answered him, making his heart soar and his chest puff out: “I would love nothing more.”

For your first day date, Ushijima took you to a farm to pick the first strawberries of the season, shyly asking you to call him “Wakatoshi” by the end of the day and blushing madly once you did. You couldn’t help but stand on your tiptoes to press the softest of kisses against his cheek, feeling his slight stubble and hot skin under your lips, suddenly finding yourself blushing as well. When he took your hand, interlacing his strong calloused fingers with your smaller, softer ones, you knew your heart was long lost, forever his. But the soft, pleased smile he gave you, made you hope that maybe you weren’t the only one feeling like that.

That was just the first date of many, many more to come. Soon, everyone was already used to always seeing you two together; the stoic tall volleyball player and his much louder, much smaller girlfriend, an odd pair that somehow still just fit, like two puzzle pieces finally put back together again.

Ushijima quickly grew used to your constant presence in his life, and now, it almost feels like you’re part of him. He loves all your little quirks and antics - that you cling to him every morning, jokingly trying to keep him from going on his daily run and leaving you alone in bed; or how you confidently sing along to every song, drawing soft smiles from his lips whenever you mess up the lyrics and laugh at yourself; or that you like to speak to your plants, your green children as you like to call them, convinced it will make them grow quicker and stronger; or the way your eyes light up whenever he enters the room, reaching for him with one hand and making his heart swell twice its size; or your breathy moans and the quiet yells of his name whenever he touches your soft, flushed body in the darkness of your shared bedroom - honestly, there’s just so much to love about you, he sometimes gets a bit overwhelmed by his own feelings.

Ushijima Wakatoshi still considers himself a stoic and reserved man. But you have managed to melt some of his hardness away, your softness settling over all his angles and edges like sunlight reflecting on a still and deep lake. Yes, he still lives and breathes for volleyball - but now also for you, always and forever you. Yes, he still goes running every morning, still eats three meals a day, still showers twice. But now he runs much later in the day, spending the early hours of the morning with you in his arms, soft and warm body pressed flushed against his hard one, nose buried in your sweet smelling hair. His three meals a day are often prepared together nowadays, you singing loudly along to a song playing on the radio while chopping vegetables, smilingly observing him marinating and grilling the meat, sometimes standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his cheek like you did on you first date, oh so many years ago. Even his showers are less lonely - all in the name of saving water and the planet of course, or that’s what you always say whenever you join him, happily spiking up his hair with shampoo while he just looks at you, the corners of his lips curling into one of those private smiles he reserves just for you, making you blush at the way his eyes shine with love and adoration for you, even after years of being together.

Yes, Ushijima Wakatoshi still has his routines, but now he always makes sure to incorporate you into them - and he very much likes it like that.

a/n: this is my first ever haikyuu imagine and also the first scenario on this blog - feedback and reblogs are appreciated, requests are open.

© oioinanami 2021 | masterlist

[falconcoast]

Kaeya + Stargazing! It just amazes me sometimes that we're looking at the same stars Galileo and Alexander the Great looked at. There's just something mystical about them like they're the eyes of the universe. Silent witnesses watching us a species progress, saving the brightest of us in a small immortality. But at the samw time far away worlds we're doomed to never meet. We can only dream, and maybe that's alright.

request here!

kaeya + stargazing

the moon isn’t out tonight. the sun has long set, stars dotting the expanse of the night sky. in your backyard, your boyfriend and you sit side-by-sidestaring up at the sky. 

the picnic basket you had set out is empty, and the tea sandwiches, chips, and cookies are all gone. the evening is cold from the hot summer day earlier, and you and kaeya cuddle up under the blanket. a few fireflies blink in the dark, shining for a brief moment before disappearing. the breeze is cool, wisping at kaeya’s hair. 

apparently, shooting stars are on display tonight. you had been so insistent earlier that you go watch the stars for your weekly date night, and kaeya was never one to say no to you. thus, here the two of you are. 

frankly, kaeya hasn’t seen a meteor at all tonight, but the smile on your face is enough to keep him satisfied for the time being. there are sparkles in your eyes as you keep your gaze focused on the sky, twinkling more brightly than any other celestial body tonight. he thinks you look cute like this, expression eager and eyes full of wonder.

he supposes there is some magic to the stars decorating the night sky. as all people have all been under the same sky, there are various interpretations and stories through the ages. tales of gods, of beasts, and other myths accompany every bright star.

his favorite, of course, is the legend that love is fated in the stars. call him a hopeless romantic all you’d like, but he finds it mystical that the love between the two of you was always pre-destined, and made to last. something about it makes his heart bloom with giddy joy, though he knows that it is only superstition. 

“look! there’s two shooting stars over there! you have to make a wish!” you suddenly point, making him snap his gaze off of your eyes. surely enough, a pair of twin meteors dash across the sky, leaving bright white lines in their wake. a few more bolt after them, doing the same as the meteors beforehand. 

kaeya pauses for a moment, before thinking of a wish. “i wish that y/n and i could be together forever,” he thinks. it’s a childish wish, for sure, but he can’t deny the way it warms his heart. 

as you turn to him, your eyes are bright with wonder. “so, what’d you wish for?” you ask with a brilliant smile.

“you know, honey, you aren’t really supposed to say what your wish is, otherwise it won’t come true,” he teases, making you pout and place your hands on his forearms. 

“oh, c’mon, you can tell it to me! you can even whisper it!” you whine, burying your head into his neck. “i promise not to say anything!”

his arms wrap around your waist as he gets close to your ear. “i’m not telling~!” he hums playfully, and ends up with his chest getting smacked. 

[junicai]

infinite.

| summary | When Aria's with her boys, it feels like the sky's the limit.

| word count | 2.3k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. June 2021, filming for Hello, Future music video

The grass in the empty stadium had been liberally covered in fake flower petals - the healthy green of regularly watered grass slowly becoming overshadowed by the light pink and yellow that settled lightly atop it. 

The white corduroy overalls that Aria donned were splashed with colour in fake paint splotches to compliment the petals - yellows and greens and pinks mixed with blues and oranges in a jumble of streaks that were stark against the otherwise plain material. The Doc Martens that all eight of the members had been fitted for were all padded at the toe and the heel - lest the hard rubber break away skin and cause them to bleed during filming.

Aria crunched several petals underfoot in the heavy boots as she wandered over to the other boys who had been released from hair and makeup a handful of minutes before her. 

The sun was just reaching it’s highest point in the sky, the heat bearing down onto her exposed midriff and almost entirely cancelling out the cool breeze that threatened to rise goosebumps on her stomach. The floaty, bell-sleeved crop top was, in Aria’s opinion, absolutely gorgeous. She had already planned out the best way to corner Heejin unnie - one of the stylists that had an especially soft spot for Aria and her pout, when used effectively. 

Shaking her freshly dyed blue hair out of her eyes, Aria broke out into a light jog to catch up to Renjun, swinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders. 

“Hi!” She smiled brightly. 

Renjun wrinkled his nose at her playfully. “Hey. You done in makeup?”

Nodding, Aria replied, “Yeah. They wanted to touch up the colour in my hair and stick a couple more tattoos around.” She pointed to the new daisy sitting underneath her eye, and the Make Peace, Not War written in differing fonts along her left forearm. 

He aah’d exaggeratedly, patting his own upside-down HELLO on his arm absent-mindedly, before frowning lightly. “Is your colour coming out already? I thought they only dyed it a couple days ago.” Lifting up a hand, Renjun brushed away the strands in Aria’s fringe that were falling into her eyes, cringing lightly when they came away covered in blue residue. 

Aria pulled away from his fingers, shaking her fringe back into place. “They didn’t have any dye left, so it’s hair chalk.” She explained. 

Renjun made another noise of understanding, looking at his smurf coloured fingertips thoughtfully. When his eyes flickered up to meet Aria’s, they had a mischievous glint in them, and she barely had the chance to turn on her heel and break out into a run before Renjun was giving chase hot on her heels. 

“No!” 

“Yes!” 

Her boots were beginning to rub the skin around her ankle raw, still not broken in enough to stand the test of a sprint through a football field, but Renjun was behind her - holding up his hand threateningly - and that was enough to keep her powering through the burn.

“Stop it!” Aria panted, laughter beginning to soil her already failing lung capacity. Her pace was lagging, but much to her relief; so was Renjun’s. With a final burst of energy at seeing the ground she’d gained on him, Aria made her escape attempt-

Only to be captured by Jeno, strong arms wrapping around her waist and swinging her around in a circle to be plopped right back down in front of a now jogging Renjun, an evil smile on his face. 

“Lee Jeno!” Aria protested, wriggling against the arms that had yet to release her. “Let me goo!” 

He deigned not to respond, but Aria could see the matching glint in his eye, and she resigned herself to her fate. He shared a nod of understanding with Renjun who was advancing slowly now that his victim was immobile. 

“Renjun.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Renjun, I’m sorry.”

His smurf-hand raised threateningly again. 

“I’ll do your dishes for a week.” 

With a final step, Renjun was now within a half-arms distance from Aria. 

“Jenooo-” Aria cut herself off with a squeak, as Renjun dragged his fingers over the bridge of her nose, leaving behind a trail of the blue hair chalk. Aria flailed in Jeno’s grip, but he held her fast, even going so far as to tug her down into his lap on the ground to hold her steady. 

Now entirely stuck, Aria resorted to flailing her limbs as much as she could, which really wasn’t a lot when Jeno tucked her legs beneath his knees, trapping her with all four of his limbs as Renjun rubbed the rest of the hair chalk off of his fingertips and onto Aria’s nose and cheeks. 

Revenge enacted, her attacker eventually settled back onto his heels, fingers now chalk free - having spread most of it over Aria’s face as a replacement for blush. 

Aria let out a small sneeze when the loose dust tickled her nose, blinking harshly in surprise. 

With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the hand Renjun held to his heart, or the pout that Jeno’s lips formed at the cute sound. The two men peered up at each other, silently agreeing that: Yes, it was unfair that she looked so tiny and cute with blue blush. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair, and it was coming for Renjun and Jeno’s heart in the form of a very tiny girl with a blueberry nose. 

With a pat on the arm from Renjun, Jeno released Aria from his grip who promptly turned around and rained a series of light smacks onto his chest, only stopping when her rings snagged in the necklace he wore. He made no effort to help her, asides from holding her up when he accidentally leaned back and nearly took her down with him. 

“Traitor!” She declared once she had untangled the jewelry. For her own revenge, she ran a finger through her hair to collect the chalk and smudged the colour onto Jeno’s cheek in a bright smear. 

The shocked look in his wide eyes was enough to have Renjun coughing out a laugh, the other two soon following. The patch of grass they had settled onto was far enough away from the filming location that there were no petals to hinder Aria’s plans of laying down onto her back, hands splayed over her stomach as she laughed along with the boys. 

“Guys!” It was Mark’s call that drew their attention away from the coloured chalk - although Renjun did let out another snicker at the light blue cloud that Aria’s hair left on the grass where she had been laying - and together the trio made their way back over to the other five members. 

When Jeno and Renjun got distracted in comparing the temporary tattoos they had both been decorated with, Aria slowed her pace enough to let the two wander ahead without her. 

She slid her focus away from the duo and towards the group that had settled in between the flower-covered goalposts, some standing, some sitting.

The bright colours of this concept was a nice change, Aria thought. She loved doing sexier concepts - don’t get her wrong, she loved the empowerment that came with it, and the twitter reactions were always fun to scroll through - but she’d missed this kind of bubble pop. Songs that made something uncurl up in your chest, complemented and encouraged by all the bright colours and messages. 

When Aria had read through the lyrics the first time, she’d never felt like she’d loved a song more without hearing it. They meant something, especially to her. 

Hello, Future; and all that.

And the costuming was always so fun. Short skirts were never the most ideal things to dance in, and the heeled shoes were the bane of her existence (no matter how good she looked in them) so the sturdy boots and durable overalls was a welcome switch-out. 

Her boys looked happy with it as well.

With Hot Sauce, there was an infinite amount pressure to get it right. It was the first full album that NCT Dream was going to release, and it was 8DREAM. They had Mark back. They were all adults at that point. There were expectations to meet. They couldn’t pass things off as being children anymore; they had millions of eyes watching them, and it was like having someone breathing down your neck. 

The pressure just kept mounting and mounting until it loomed over them all like dark clouds that you could just know held heavy rain. It was like they were debuting all over again. Re-debuting as eight again. Aria doesn’t think she remembers a single thing from the set at all. The whole thing is just a blur in her memory. 

Hello, Future, this time around, is different. The members had gathered in the living room around Donghyuck’s laptop when the Hot Sauce music video aired, watching as the views racked up and positive comment after positive comment poured in. They’d read through each and every one, Mark and Aria translating the English ones that the others couldn’t read. 

If Aria cried, one arm wrapped tightly around Jaemin, with the other held Mark’s right hand in his lap, then no one commented on it. It could be, because they had tears of their own in their eyes - but no one can say for sure.

They ended up sleeping on the floor that night, laptop discarded on the couch that was stripped bare of pillows and throw blankets. Curled around each other - this time with her head on Renjun’s chest and her stomach monopolized by both Chenle and Jisung lying horizontal from each other, Aria felt the tension and the fear that had been teeming underneath her shoulders for the last two months abate. 

The terror that if the album had flopped, then they’d be facing disbandment like so many kneitzens wanted. 

Or worse: Dream would keep going, but they’d lose Mark again. 

Even the thought made something horrible curl up in the pit of Aria’s stomach. 

No. 

Never again. 

The odd sleeping arrangements were not something that were uncommon in the Dreamies dorm (Honestly, Aria can’t remember the last time she had slept alone in a room, let alone a bed. They had a system worked out for when someone genuinely needed time alone, but otherwise, most bedroom doors remained open all night.)

This time, Mark was forcibly settled into the middle, everyone clamoring that he’d missed out on nearly three years of them - and he wasn’t getting ride of them that easily again. 

To his credit, Mark went without much argument, although that probably falls down due to the fact that god, he had missed them too. 

Over the weeks of practicing together, re-working the choreography for the songs that had been released when Dream was seven members only, they found their rhythm again. The one that they had lost in 2019, the one that Mark had taken with him when he’d graduated from the group.

Finding it again felt easier than breathing. 

Aria thought she’d never get to see her boys smile so brightly as they did together again, giving the colourful flowers lining the grass a run for their money. 

From her position a ways away from the group, she watched as Chenle immediately launched himself at Jeno as soon as he was close enough, tackling the older boy onto the ground where they both landed with a thud, Chenle’s head whipping backwards with the force.

She watched as Jeno - ever careful - had tucked a hand behind Chenle’s head to catch him even before they started to fall, his hand taking all the impact as they came into contact with the ground.

Jisung was quick to clamber up, eager to pull Renjun over to Jaemin and show him what they had been doing. She watched as Jaemin held up a small crown made of the fake petals, held together loosely by the short strands of confetti that were scattered around the goalposts. 

Mark was leaning his back against the post, head tilted down onto Donghyuck’s shoulder. Donghyuck was watching Jeno and Chenle wrestle with each other - cheering for one or the other, depending on who was winning at that exact moment. 

Aria watched as Donghyuck slowly slipped into silence, tilting his head down to look at Mark’s peaceful expression as the eldest seemed to almost doze off on his shoulder. 

And, she watched as Donghyuck lifted his eyes, flickering from each of the members. His eyebrows furrowed, scanning the group again before he craned his neck towards the rest of the field.

When his eyes locked onto Aria’s, he raised an eyebrow, but deigned to stay quiet - choosing against startling Mark with a yell. His expression was enough, though. 

Donghyuck understood Aria on a certain level that she thought not a lot of people could. She had a unique bond with each member of Dream, but Donghyuck sometimes knew what was going on in her head before she even did. 

Which is why, instead of teasing her for being an introvert, or running away; when Aria strolled up to join the group he just extended the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Mark’s waist, beckoning to her.

After being firmly tucked into his other side, Aria curled into his chest with a sigh, shivering lightly when the sun slid behind a cloud for a brief second and the air felt cooler than it had all day.

Feeling her shudder, Donghyuck tilted his head down to look at her the same way he’d looked at Mark a moment ago, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“You okay?” 

Aria nodded. “M’okay.” 

(Donghyuck didn’t realize that his lips were blue from the chalk until Jisung pointed it out, some thirty minutes later.)

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You- Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy! 

Chapter Four ~ Chapter Six

Chapter Five: Fire and Ice

Aelin woke the next morning feeling surprisingly light. Her mind wasn’t weighed down with Sam, or with court politics… or even the fact that her mate was here. No. She woke and was excited for the day. 

She bounded out of bed before the maids had arrived in her rooms and quickly washed and dressed herself. She hadn’t bothered with fancy clothes, she had picked out a simple tunic and pants. If she was training with Rowan then she wanted to be practical. 

She didn’t waste time with going to the dining hall, Orlon and her parents already seated and sipping their tea. None of them said a word as she sat at the table and piled her plate with pastries. The silence did not last long as her father finally put his tea down and looked towards her. 

“We should talk about what happened yesterday, Aelin.” Her mother gave her a smile of apology. 

“We already did.” She shrugged, her excitement turning into something that felt a lot like dread. 

“We never discussed a way forward. How we will deal with your mating and—“ 

“I appreciate your concern, but this is something that I need to navigate on my own. I will keep you updated on things you need to know, but let me do this by myself.” Her parents looked to each other, Orlon still chewing on his breakfast. “I am old enough to look after myself.” She smiled softly at her parents, her mother looking like she might cry. 

“If it’s any consolation Aelin, I think Rowan Whitethorn would make a delightful King consort.” Orlon grinned, knowing his words would ruffle her. 

“On that note, I’m going to the training ground. I will speak with you all later.” She snatched a couple of pastries from her plate and left, stopping to say good morning to a few people as she did. 

She had made it all of ten steps when Aedion fell into a walk beside her. “So you have a mate?” 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Aedion? Like tormenting Lysandra or dealing with stuffy royals.” She kept walking straight, down the steps and into the crisp morning air. 

“I believe stuffy royal duties don’t start for another hour.” 

She huffed. 

“Are you really not going to talk about it?” 

“Theres nothing to talk about.” She spotted the stone archway that led to the training ground, the spot thankfully empty of any prying eyes. 

“So I shouldn’t start making banners for your mating ceremony?” 

She glared at Aedion who was smiling from ear to ear. He knew exactly how ro rub her the wrong way. “Stay out of it Aedion. When I want to talk about it, I will.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, retreating a few steps. “I just want to make sure my cousin is okay; you can’t get angry at me for that.” He turned back towards the palace, his golden hair glowing in the sunlight. “Let me know if I need to have words with him.” She watched as he retreated back into the castle, no doubt to update her parents. 

She continued the short walk to the training ground and immediately spotted Rowan on the far side. He was dressed similar to herself, plain white tunic and pants that she couldn’t help but notice hugged his thighs spectacularly. And though neither of them had accepted the bond, she could feel the pull of him. The way her body and soul was drawn to the silver-haired male. She hadn’t even got half away across the grounds when he looked up and gave her a smile that may have affected her more than she wished to admit. 

As she approached she got a whiff of his scent and she shivered at the smell. Pine and snow. 

The smell of Terrasen. 

She struggled to find words as she stopped before him. But she managed a smile and he returned it with his own. 

“I didn’t know the extent of your abilities so I thought maybe we could start out simple. Just throw our magic at each other and shield?” She nodded and they took their places in the middle the courtyard. She summoned her flame into her hands and Rowan looked pleasantly surprised as she pushed the flame forward, towards him. It bounced right off his shield and the flame flickered out as he suffocated it with his magic. He sent daggers of ice at her next, she barely had time to summon a shield as they smacked into it and tendrils of steam floated up as they hit the shimmering shield.

Fire and ice. It was poetic in a way, two opposites bound together by fate.

They continued sparring until Aelin could feel the tug of a burnout. It never took much, but she always knew when to stop. Rowan sensed her imminent burnout too and halted his spear of ice. A cool breeze— curtesy of Rowan she realised— blew around the courtyard, cooling the fire in her veins.

“For someone who claims to be trained, your burnout came on fast.” He went to the small fountain and splashed water over his face, the droplets running down his neck, further, she had to turn away before he noticed a shift in her scent. From the subtle cough from Rowan, she knew he had probably already done so. “You have some control over the fire, but you need to be quicker. The shields are too slow to appear and too weak to really defend yourself.” 

“Good thing I don’t actually need to defend myself.” She strutted over to the same fountain and copied his movements. Splashing some water on her face and arms. “I only use my fire for practical purposes.” It was Rowan’s turn to turn away she noted with a smug smile. He recovered quickly and looked to her once again. 

“You always need to know how to defend yourself.” 

“Terrasen hasn’t seen a war in hundreds of years.” 

“War isn’t the only time you might need to defend yourself. What if you are attacked whilst out riding, or in the city, or—“ 

“I get your point.” Aelin perched on the bench and watched as Rowan stretched. “I suppose you’ll have to teach me then.” She had enjoyed their training this morning, it had been easy and almost natural falling into the sparring. Their magic had danced around each other, had sung to the other. And if she was being honest, she had enjoyed his company. 

Rowan continued his stretching as he replied. “I’ll be here every morning. We can practice then.” 

And they did. For the next week Aelin and Rowan would meet by the archway and they would train for two hours each morning. Neither said much, but it was comfortable. They had slipped into the routine easily. Some mornings Aedion would watch, sometimes Rowan’s cousins would spar alongside them, other times it was just the two of them. It was the only time they had really spent together alone. She had made a point to avoid any chaperoned walks or rides or whatever her father was deeming appropriate. She didn’t need the eyes of guards and her parents watching her every move with Rowan. 

On the second day of training they had ended up in the morning room, where they had drunk tea and discussed their lives; they never went too deep, but she liked the way Rowan told stories, she liked hearing his voice and how his eyes would brighten when he talked about his friends in Doranelle. Conversation seemed to flow easy with them. And every day they spent together, the tug she felt got stronger. 

 Despite their new routine, they had never spent much time outside the palace, or at least anywhere that would allow them to be completely alone. Which is why, when Rowan had knocked on her door that evening asking if she would like to go for a walk, she agreed. 

[nepenthendline]

Soulmates - Aone

This was a commission for @dont-mind-me-imjustpassingby​! My commissions are 30% off until 30th september 💕💕 Hope you enjoy!

(also I changed my banners oooo)

2.3k

Ever since you were born you had the two words on your wrist memorised: ‘it’s you’. Your key to finding your soulmate, your one true love who would be perfect for you in every way. Each day, even as a little child you had dreamed about that one day you’d hear those two familiar words, and how your heart would finally feel complete. Some of your friends had already found their fated soulmate; one when they were 7, one two years ago, and one just last week, but there were plenty others who were still looking for their other puzzle piece – you being one of them.  

You still had time, you had to keep reminding yourself. You were only a second year at Date Tech, and you still even had a whole year at the busy school to run into your soulmate, but it felt so frustrating to wait.  

To busy your time instead of worrying yourself silly over this, you had joined the volleyball team as a manager in your first year. At first, you didn’t know much about the sport at all, but you grew to love watching the ball fall on the opponent’s side, and hearing it bounce off the strong arms of the blockers. Over time, you built a great relationship with the team members, and they respected you. It was a little easier for you to talk to the second years though, as you had much more in common due to your shared classes.

That was except for one though: Aone. Well, it wasn’t exactly just you that struggled communicating with the boy. In the past two years, you’d noticed how he rarely ever spoke, to you or to others, and how he preferred to reply in grunts or nods. It wasn’t like you had never heard his voice; however, it was just never once directed at you.  

Even so, somehow you were so drawn to him. It was like a magnetic force that tugged on your heart every time you were near him. Every nerve in your body kept telling you to talk to him, to learn more about him; so, you did.  

It certainly helped that you were quite close to Futakuchi, who seemed well versed in the communicative ways of Aone. The three of you, all being second years, started walking home together after practice, meeting up for morning practice, leading into study sessions at each other’s houses to cram before your exams.  

While Aone never spoke, he certainly never lacked expression. During your time together you got to learn more about him: what he liked, what he didn’t like, the subjects he enjoyed and his talents, all by carefully watching him and learning the little signs of happiness or discomfort. Such as the way his eyes widen a little and his face softens when he sees a cute kitten cross the street on the way home, or how his brow furrows deeply when he can’t understand a homework question. It was so interesting, so charming.  

You felt so comfortable around him. You saw how kind he was, and how thoughtful he could be whenever he tried to help or comfort his friends. However, while you hung out together often, you never really knew where you stood. Were you friends? Acquaintances? Purely club-mates? He didn’t seem to avoid you by any means, but it was as he tried to keep a little distance between the two of you. You knew you were probably never going to get much talking from him, but even after a year of your company, he had never answered a question or shared his thoughts to you with words. Futakuchi had mentioned to you before about how he only spoke with those he was extremely comfortable with, so you supposed he didn’t think of you as dearly as you did for him.  

You didn’t mind the silence, but sometimes, it stung. It hurt knowing how your mind was filled with thoughts of him every day, and how you just wanted to be someone he could rely on, someone who could confide in when things got tough.  

Every time you caught yourself staring a little too long at him, or when you noticed you’d stayed up late thinking about him, you were ashamed of yourself. And every day your shame grew as you fell deeper and deeper for him. You hadn’t even met your soulmate and yet you’d already abandoned your perfect future together to adore this boy a little more. There were rumours of how people had developed relationships with those who weren’t their destined soulmate, but these people were often shunned on by society. The world had chosen the perfect person for you, and you’re only job was to love and care for them, yet you had failed already.

The guilt was eating away at you, slowly breaking you down. You loved a man that wasn’t your soulmate, and you didn’t know what to do to fix it. So, you stepped back. You tried to get your mind off Aone by keeping your distance. You’d run off before you could walk home together, or you’d find an excuse to miss your study nights. You spent more time with other friends and trying to meet new people in case you stumbled across your soulmate and the shock could take Aone from your heart. But, no matter how long you spent away from him, no matter how else you tried to fill your time and thoughts, you were always pulled to him.

Aone, on the other hand, was dealing with a different type of stress to you, but one that chained him up just as tightly. A year ago, he found his soulmate; a year since he had heard those exact words on his wrist said to him, and how he had found the one for him. In that moment, and every moment since, he had dealt with a flood of emotions. Happiness, fear, relief and doubt. The world told him that this person was the one for him, the one who would finally accept him, love him and every part of him. He already knew that he loved them; every moment around them made his heart soar. Soulmate or not, he had fallen for them, their beauty, their compassion and care. But why was he so scared? So scared that his fated life partner wouldn’t feel the same? He didn’t even know if it was possible, but every instance with others had led him to believe that he was unwanted, unapproachable and unattractive. They may not have been his soulmates, sure, but there was never an instance besides the volleyball team where he felt accepted, and he couldn’t face the possibility of his one and only chance of love, the only chance he ever wanted, to be lost.  

And his worst nightmare was coming true. It didn’t take long for him to notice the change. He saw you draw away from him, leaving him behind in the pursuit for another; probably someone better, more handsome or more sophisticated. He might have a soulmate, but no one could fall for him.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Futakuchi asked, sitting next to him on the steps leading into the school gym and Aone watched you in the distance filling water bottles. Aone didn’t need to answer for Futakuchi to know the answer, not that he would have anyway.

“If you don’t speak to her, she’s never going to know you’re her soulmate,” Futakuchi watched as Aone’s face screwed together tighter, and how his head fell to look at his wrist. He lightly traced over the words he had heard a year ago from you, still remembering how it sounded. His friend sighed besides him, throwing an arm over his shoulders.  

“I know you’re scared, but she was made for you, and only for you. The universe knew that she would love you, and that you would love her. Besides, you’re already friends with her and we both know how lovely she is. Soulmates or not, she’d still find a way to know you and fall for you.” Aone turned to look at him, his eyes were swallowed with insecurity and fear, and he swallowed heard. “Just give it a chance, you won’t know until you do. If you wait too long you might lose her,” he saw the panic flash in his friend’s eyes at those words, could Aone really lose his only chance? Futakuchi lifted his arm off, smacking him on the back, “go sweep her off her feet, yeah? You’re a great guy, I’m sure you can romance her,” he teased with a wink, before heading back into the gym at the sound of their coach calling to start practice. Could he make you fall for him? He had no idea, but he had to at least try.  

Through practice, the only time you had spoken to him was to ask if he wanted a towel, and he was way past the point of missing your voice. He wanted to make things right, to make you his but he just didn’t know how. He wasn’t the best at dealing with people, nor did he ever know what to say, and speaking itself was a struggle for him.  

At the end of practice, you had headed off home as soon as you had finished clearing up, while the team members were still getting changed. You wanted to be by yourself for a little while, maybe go somewhere you could clear your head. You’d been so busy recently trying to distract yourself from the hole in your heart, but every attempted made it grow bigger.

It was dark on your way some expect for the dim glow of the streetlights that barely guided your way. Your legs were tired, but your mind felt worse. By the side of the road was a large park, one you used to play in as a child, and the bench that sat under a streetlight called you. You trudged over, dropping your bag to your side and slumping down on the seat. You pulled your legs up onto the bench, tucking them close to your chest and let your head fall back. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and focused on the cold breeze as it swirled freely around you, yet you felt so stuck.  

Aone had left the school after he had changed and gave a swift nod as a goodbye to his teammates. He still wasn’t used to walking home alone without your chatter and warmth to keep him company. He didn’t like being out alone in the dark either, but he was always more concerned about your safety than his.  

As he walked under the dim lights, a figure at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking over, he saw what he could immediately recognise as you, sitting on the lonely bench, your head thrown back and your body tucked into itself. His heart skipped a beat, partly in adoration at the sight of you, and partly in worry.  

Footsteps moved across the road behind you, creeping louder and louder with each step, certainly coming towards you. You opened your eyes, and the shock of seeing Aone leaning over the bench to look you directly in the eyes sent shivers down your body.  

“You scared me,” you half-heartedly muttered, sitting up straighter than before. He stared at you for a couple moments, before rounding the bench and sitting by your side. You both sat silently, listening to the wind rustle through the trees.  

He turned to look at you as your gaze was ahead, watching the park in front. The light from above highlighted your features and reflected from your eyes, although that seemed to be the only light that came from them. He felt his hand subconsciously move across the bench towards you, but he quickly snatched it back before you could notice. He was scared, but you deserved to know rather than spend the rest of your life wandering around, hoping.

“It’s you,” he mumbled out, his voice deep and thick from its lack of use. He saw your eyes grow wide, and as the realisation set in, your head snapped towards him.

“Huh?” He didn’t know if you genuinely didn’t hear him, or if you just couldn’t believe this moment.

“It’s you,” he repeated, a little louder and a little more certain than before.  

Your jaw hung open a bit, trying to find a way to move. You looked away from him, then back to him again, then down at your wrist. Those same words you had just heard were staring back at you in permanent ink on your skin, glowing.  

All this time, and the one you had been looking for was right in front of you. The one you had been dreaming about and thinking of was yours. You started chuckling to yourself out of pure astonishment, what a fool you had been. All the intense feelings you felt for him, all the times you wanted to pull him close, every moment you spent watching him in devotion was for this exact reason; he was your soulmate, your one and only love.  

His face tensed at your reaction, half relieved that you didn’t seem disgusted, and half confused that you were so calm. You looked towards him with a lazily smile, and he saw that glint in your eyes that he grew so fond of.  

“I-I hope you can grow to accept me as your soulmate,” he spoke sincerely, fiddling with his fingers in his lap as his voice staggered out.  

“That’s what I’ve been wishing for, for the past year.”

[wonjaekook]

beneath the daylight moon

CHAPTER 3.

Read Chapter 2 here!

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during the daytime?”

Jaehyun didn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

Jaehyun lowered his phone from his ear, nearly dropping it as he stared at the man opposite him. You and Jaehyun both spoke up at the same time, two voices raised in unison to ask the same thing. A name, which in this case served as a question of its own.

  “Johnny?”

It took Jaehyun a moment to process that you had just said his best friend’s name and he had to muster all the self-control that he could manage to not to turn and look at you in shock. Instead, he swallowed hard, continuing to stare at Johnny. He rose from the bench slowly, but quickly hurried over, a short laugh leaving his throat as he embraced him.

“When you asked for my address, I thought you were going to send me a package or something,” Jaehyun said through a grin, giving his friend a solid smack on the shoulder as they part, “not this.”

“Getting into the building was the hard part. I could’ve just gotten your address from Mark. Thankfully, your grandma was home to buzz me in. I think she loves me already.” Johnny’s familiar grin was like a piece of home. One would think that Jaehyun had gotten used to moving around, as he’d done so his entire life, but being in a new place was always somewhat strange. It was nice to see his friend again.

“Of course she does,” he said, unable to hide the happiness in his voice. “Are you here for business or for pleasure, then?”

“Why not both?” As Johnny started to talk more, Jaehyun remembered you. He did his best to resist looking over his shoulder at the place where he left you, but shifted on his feet impatiently as time went on. “...so, I hope your weekend is free so we can check the place out.”

Jaehyun nodded somewhat absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure, I’m free.”

“Since I’m here, do you want to do something now? Unless I interrupted you here?” Johnny’s eyes were warm, a soft caramel brown that shined with obliviousness.

“I can finish this up tomorrow afternoon.” He said it loudly enough that he hoped you heard. Though he didn’t leave off with much more to say to you, he felt like the conversation wasn’t even close to over. That’s how it always goes with you - something left unsaid, unfinished. One of the two of you always has to leave and, this time, it’s him. “I’ll make you something good for dinner as a welcome back meal.”

“I thought you’d never offer.” Johnny turned back towards the entrance to the roof, then stopped a moment later and faced outwards again, taking in the view. “By the way… it’s really nice up here.”

Jaehyun turned as well, following the general sweep of Johnny’s gaze, except really looking towards where he stood talking with you a few minutes ago. To his disappointment, but no great surprise, you were gone. “Thanks. I guess it is.”

In your room, you’re alone. After feeling Jaehyun’s touch, a warmth you were no longer accustomed to feeling, your contactless existence felt even more hollow. You’ll meet with him tomorrow, you decided, if not just to brush your hand against his once more. Also, because you have to talk about him. About visiting your body. And about Johnny.

Johnny... he’s back. He’s here. The notion terrified you and excited you at the same time. If your sister sees him…

You supposed you’re not the only ghost around these parts anymore.

After talking with you today and then having spent time with Johnny, one of the warmest presences in his life, Jaehyun lied in bed at the end of the night feeling far more relaxed than he had for quite a few days. That is, until he dug out the piece of paper your sister had given him. With his phone in one hand and the paper with her number scrawled on it in the other, he hesitated. The message was fully typed out, just a “Hey, this is Jaehyun from down the hall. Could you send me what hospital and room number Y/N is in?” but he couldn’t send it. He preoccupied himself with double-triple-quadruple checking that he typed her number in correctly, read his message over and over again for grammar and spelling mistakes, dwelled on other ways he could phrase it.

He thought about the look in your eyes on the rooftop. Though you had asked him to go, that lack of conviction on your face was what was making this message take fifteen minutes to send instead of just one. He usually thought of himself as an optimist, though now his mind was in a jumble, trying to figure what would really be the best thing to do. His thoughts spiralled in and out of doubt, wondering if you truly wanted him to do this, wondering if this will even work. Wondering, once again, if history was repeating itself.

Then, he remembered some wise words from his grandmother. ‘If you can try, you should. It may just be worth it.’ Though she probably hadn’t meant that saying for something like this, they were the last push he needed. He pressed send.

You watched from the hallway between your room and your sister’s as her phone lit up. Her hair was arranged in its usual nighttime style and she was just about to crawl under the covers of her bed when her eyes caught on the received text message. The small, pleasant smile that graced her worn face made you mirror her look. You could only hope that the news makes her sleep well tonight.

The text that Jaehyun was greeted with, about five minutes after he sent his own, was very straightforward. It contained the exact information he had asked for, including the address of the hospital, and ended with a ‘I don’t know how you know her, but thank you for caring.’

That night, his dreams were soundless, sightless, but filled with a kind of warmth that he couldn’t describe with words. It wasn’t at all a nightmare, but he still woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest.

This time around, Jaehyun didn’t avoid meeting you. If anything, he stretched the definition of ‘afternoon’ to be far earlier than most people think of it. He arrived on the roof at 11:30 in the morning and, at first, shuffled around the area, absentmindedly staring at different pots and gardening fixtures that he’d installed up here as he wished that time would move faster. After about fifteen minutes were spent unproductively, he decided that he might as well make use of his time. He spent another hour and a half heaving the bags of fertilizer that he brought up previously to where he needed them, packed it into the planters, and pulled weeds. The manual labor made him work up a sweat. Though he had gotten into the habit of bringing his own towel to wipe it away, a part of him still wished he had your handkerchief. His thoughts briefly wandered to you again - how you had handed him the item, what it means to you - and that seemed to be enough to summon you.

From the doorway to the stairs, you stood watching him for a moment. He wiped away sweat, shined in the sun, still glistened slightly despite the hat that he had started wearing, and crouched in front of a planter so that he could get a better look at the nothing that appeared to be growing in it. He didn’t notice you at first because your footsteps were soundless.

“That’s where you planted them, right? The Four O’clocks?” You saw his muscles tense in surprise, though that was the most reaction you got for sneaking up on him. Still, an apology left your mouth. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize, I just didn’t notice you until now.” His eyes shifted back to the planter in front of him. “And, yeah. They haven’t popped up yet for some reason, though. I’ll have to do more research.”

He stood, brushed his gloves against each other to get some of the extra dirt off, and removed them, stepping over towards where he had left some of his other stuff. As he walked, you trailed along next to him, watching the way a drop of sweat slid down from his hairline into his shirt. It had been a long time since you’d felt temperature - neither a cold breeze nor the sun’s warmth had touched your skin. You weren’t sure if you missed it or not. The only time you had really felt any heat were the times you touched-

The times you touched Jaehyun.

Something inside of you twinged with both pain and hope. If fate existed, he must be a sign of something good to come in your future, right? The key to all of this. Though just yesterday both of you realized that neither one of you had the answer to what was happening to you, you felt like all you could do was cling to even the smallest bit of feeling that he was returning to your life.

“I texted your sister.” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts. A small towel was in one of his hands, which he had clearly used to wipe away sweat while you were trapped in your thoughts. There was a small smile on his lips that you quickly mirrored.

“I know.” Slowly, you reached for his hands, taking one of them in your own, his palm gently held between yours. The warmth seemed to seep into your very being. You swore you could even feel the slight slick of sweat on his palms. “Jaehyun, thank you.”

He tilted his head and his smile became puzzled. “I haven’t even visited you yet.”

“Even just contacting my sister meant the world to her. And that means even more to me.” You tentatively released his hand, the feeling of aliveness quickly leaving your body. “When are you going to go?”

“I was thinking tomorrow.” The immediacy struck you. Tomorrow was so… soon. When you had forgotten your doubts for the last little while, they returned again.

“Tomorrow… tomorrow is good,” you forced yourself to say. The determination on his face told you more about him - once he’s set his mind on something, it’s hard to get him to diverge from that path. He was dead set on helping you.

Silence flowed between you for a moment, only the distant rushing of traffic from the small city below infiltrated the bubble of the rooftop. Jaehyun broke eye contact with you, his tongue flicking out as he nervously wetted his lips. “How do you know Johnny?”

You took a deep breath, like you would if you were trying to ease your nervousness when you were in your own body. “It’s not so much that I know him. It’s more my sister.” You stepped towards the railing at the edge of the building, looking out at the city and the blue sky above. It was far too early for a daytime moon, being a bit past noon. “They were a thing in high school. People really thought they would end up together forever, but college got in the way of that. Now, she’s with that… that piece of human trash that calls himself her boyfriend.” Though your tone had started off pleasant, wistful, remembering a softer past, it quickly turned bitter. Being stuck in the state you were in, you had spent more than enough time wandering aimlessly around your apartment, watching him do nothing all day, watching him waste time and resources. A part of you really believed that her current boyfriend was just a placeholder for the hole that Johnny left when he went away, but you didn’t tell Jaehyun that. It might be better just to leave your hypotheses to yourself for now.

Since you were staring out, speaking to the city air instead of facing Jaehyun, you couldn’t gauge his reaction. The more of your explanation he heard, the more surprise showed in his eyes. After you finished speaking, you took a moment, glared down at the city below, and then composed yourself and turned back around to look at him. He stepped forward, joining you against the railing. “That… explains a lot.” There was a strange smile on his face, like he was finally understanding something. “Johnny never really dated seriously in university. Always seemed kind of hung up on someone from the past. He never named her to me, in all the years I’ve known him.”

“You know him from college, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s my best friend. Small world, isn’t it?” You realized the particular irony of the statement to your situation, as you couldn’t leave this building, never mind the town, and let out a snort of laughter. “I guess that explains why he suggested we start the restaurant here.”

You stood in silence again, staring out at the rooftop garden instead of at the street below this time. Though some parts of the garden were still rough around the edges, it no longer looked like the roof was abandoned. The area teemed with new life, tiny splotches of green disrupting the brown of the soil and fertilizer as most everything that he’d planted had started growing by now. Everything except the Four O’clocks. “Jaehyun?” He looked towards you, humming in acknowledgment. “Even if visiting my body doesn’t help, I’m still glad that I met you.”

“If only it was under better circumstances,” he agrees. His eyes fell on the wall that led to where the mural was. “Hey, when you wake up, do you want to finish that mural? I think it would really tie this place together. I’ll even buy the paint for it.”

You looked in the same direction as him, the image of the unfinished painting clear in your head. Right now, you really had no desire to do anything with it, but you supposed that Jaehyun made a good point. “I guess. It would be nice to have a brush in my hand again.”

The sound of a car honking loudly from below shattered the tender moment, startling both of you. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glancing at the incoming message from Johnny.

‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’

“Shit.” He pushed off of the railing, standing up straight. “I forgot that I’m meeting up with Johnny and Mark in an hour.” He started to gather his stuff from the top of the crate where he had left it before glancing over and catching your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow? You won’t run away again?”

You shook your head. “See you tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

When he walked to the roof exit, he turned around to look at you again. You were seated on the old crate that he first saw you on, in those same dark denim overall shorts with the paint splashes and white tee. Like you could sense him staring at you, you turned slightly. As you did so, your image seemed to waver slightly, as if the sunlight was moving through your opaque being; a strange mirage in the afternoon air. He blinked and you appeared normal again, so he raised a hand in a final farewell for the day. After you returned the gesture, he disappeared into the stairwell.

For the rest of the day, he intermittently thought of you. Johnny and Mark largely kept him distracted, helping him plan some of the items he’ll have on the menu of his restaurant, what the interior could look like, what to name it. As they drove around after lunch, the conversation shifted.

“Dude,” Mark said, “I heard that Ten is also in town right now. You should visit him.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Johnny said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “It would be nice to catch up.”

Jaehyun chimed in at that. “Ten from high school?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of surprised that you remember me talking about him.”

“Do you still talk to anyone else from back then?” There was a slight insistence to Jaehyun’s voice that perplexed Johnny. Jaehyun knew he probably shouldn’t have been pushing this hard, especially since his best friend never opened up to him about it before, but he couldn’t help it. “There’s this girl who lives on my floor who seems about your age.”

“Are you trying to get me to hook you up with someone? It’s about time.”

“No,” Jaehyun said firmly, his eyebrows furrowed. “And you know I wouldn’t have a problem with that if I wanted to talk to a girl.”

“Tell that to your ex. If I hadn’t pushed you to talk to her-”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” There was a snap to Jaehyun’s tone that he usually didn’t use and it cut off the conversation quickly. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, checking his phone. Jaehyun almost decided to drop the topic entirely, but he felt like he owed it to you to ask. “The girl from my floor is named S/N L/N.”

The tapping of his fingers against the wheel stopped. Slowly, Johnny’s grip tightened. Normally, Johnny was in complete control of his emotions. Now, he didn’t seem angry, but it clearly evoked something in him when Jaehyun said your sister’s name. “Yeah. I know her.”

Mark nudged Jaehyun, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to communicate with him nonverbally. Jaehyun ignored the signal. “Were you close?”

Johnny shrugged, forcing himself to relax slightly as he drove. “You could say that.”

No one spoke for a while, until a familiar, nostalgic song played on the radio, reigniting the conversation. Jaehyun planned on leaving the conversation at that, inviting the two over for dinner. As afternoon turned to evening, they returned to his apartment complex. When he stepped out of the car, he couldn't resist looking up. The roof seemed like such a long way from here. He shook his head slightly to clear it and led his friends to his apartment. The elevator ride was short and empty of anyone but them, with Mark gushing about eating his food again. When the doors opened to his floor, he got out and nearly walked right past her. Johnny didn’t, though.

As soon as he exited the elevator, his friend saw her. Jaehyun stopped walking when he saw that Johnny wasn't with him and Mark. Johnny was having some sort of staredown with your sister. She had the same bag on her shoulder that she did the last time Jaehyun saw her, though the sunglasses were missing this time, leaving her expressions largely unguarded.

She seemed to swallow heavily, taken aback by this ghost from the past. “John.”

“S/N.” All Jaehyun and Mark could do was watch. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Johnny once again forced himself to relax a bit and offered her a small smile. “Jaehyun was telling me about how you live on the same floor.” “What are you doing back here?” She said, cutting right to the chase. She seemed far more outwardly unhappy to see him than he did to see her.

“Visiting. Probably going to move back soon, though.” He was watching, carefully assessing her reaction. He stood tall, his hands in his pockets, casual. She appeared much more stiff, weighed down more by life than he had been in the years since they’d seen each other.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this town?” There was a certain bitterness to her voice that was very personal. Almost resentful.

“You still remember that?”

“How could I forget?”

Jaehyun and Mark glanced at each other, wondering if they should do something. At those words, though, Johnny’s smile brightened slightly. “I’m glad I’m unforgettable.”

“This isn’t about you anymore.” Johnny’s face fell slightly at that, eliminating the slight cheer that he had just gained. “I have to go.” As she reached the elevator, she turned back to them, looking Jaehyun in the eyes. Her eyes were piercing, though they didn’t seem to hold any malice, only confusion. “You’re really strange, Jaehyun.”

It crossed Jaehyun’s mind that he might have started something far beyond his depth or control. After the elevator doors closed with her behind them, Johnny turned back towards him and Mark. “Dinner?”

As he cooked, Jaehyun watched the sun set outside the window adjacent to the kitchen section of the apartment. From here, he couldn’t see if the moon was out yet, but he thought about it and he thought about you. He wondered if you were thinking about him, too.

The way you thought about Jaehyun was with the sort of desperation someone who was hanging onto the edge of a cliff thought about a rope. Right now, he was your lifeline for more reasons than one. In your dark room, the emptiness felt suffocating. You lied sideways on your bed, staring at the ceiling, untaken by the sleep you no longer require. Back when you were alive, you might have taken the time to paint him, capture the way he had made you feel in the short time you’ve known him and the few conversations you’ve had with him. Then, you would have opened your sketchbook and flipped through the drawings from better days, ignored the darker sketches of more recent times.

You wondered if your sister had flipped through those drawings since it happened, seen the last picture you created. It was a self-portrait of sorts, though your eyes were filled with black and your limbs were strung up like a marionette. Out of control in your own life, close to being soulless. You didn’t know nor remember what had possessed you to draw it and you wished you had finished with something brighter. It didn’t matter anyways - the book was stuck on your shelf with some of your other things, out of reach of your touchless world. What did matter was what’s going to happen tomorrow.

The more you thought about it, the more the doubts bounced around in the transparent space of wherever you would call your mind now, the more Jaehyun visiting your body in the hospital seemed like a terrible idea. It has been a long time that you’ve been like this and it’ll probably be an even longer time if you somehow wake up. You weren’t sure you were ready to be exhausted like that again.

You thought about your sister and her hunched figure over the dimly lit coffee table at night, the bills piling up, each dollar that leaves her bank account only adding a single grain of sand to the hourglass of the life she’s built here. She never really talked finances with you, but you knew it was never easy. You covered rent, but she tried to keep all of her other bills away from you. You dreaded more than wondered what would happen should that hourglass finally become empty. How much time does this life have left?

It only took you a moment to leave your room and reach her. She was exactly where you pictured her, though she wasn’t staring at the bills, trying to crunch numbers anymore. Her gaze was on her lump of a boyfriend asleep on the couch. “S/N,” you couldn’t help but whisper, “just leave him. Go to bed.”

For a heartbeat, it almost seemed like she heard you, or was at least about to pay herself a courtesy, as she rose from her place at the table and walked the short distance to the hallway adjoining the living area to the bedrooms. Then, she stopped, stared at the ground, and turned slightly, laying a hand on his shoulder. He began to stir as she spoke. “Honey…” the word rang bitter in your ears, “come to bed.”

The look he gave her through bleary eyes showed a type of spiritual rotting that had its roots deep in his core. “Bitch, I was asleep. Can’t you leave me in peace for one night?”

“You’ll sleep better in bed than on the couch…” The meekness with which she spoke had you curling your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Both she and you knew that no matter what she did, she would always be wrong in his eyes. Always. If she hadn’t woken him, he would’ve gotten angry in the morning instead, bemoaning how she hadn’t woken him and gotten him to sleep on the bed instead. You’d seen that exact argument happen before. You couldn’t say how many times you’d seen this exact scene, too.

He grunted, slowly getting up. “Is that so?” He tilted his head, cracking his neck in something of a stretch. “You think you know better than me?”

“No,” she flinched as he raised a hand, “I’m sorry.”

The grin that filled his face wasn’t bright. It was crooked, sick, and it made you want to vomit when you knew you weren’t even capable of doing so. Back when they first started dating, he was much better at hiding the pleasure he takes in “besting” her, but now he didn’t even try. As he walked past her, he bumped her shoulder with his arm, making her draw herself in, attempting to minimize the space she took up. After he was gone, more safely away from her in their bedroom, she sank down onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her torso. She stared at the scattered bottles and trash on the small side table next to the soft. It took about a minute before she leaned forward, resting her face in her hands, slow tears falling down her cheeks. You couldn’t bear to look at her like this. Back when you were in your own body, you never knew she cried like this. When you couldn’t stand to watch the fighting without doing anything anymore, you would just lock yourself in your room and pray no one got hurt. Every bit of it, you regretted. You should’ve stood up to him more, stood by your sister, shared her pain. Regret was a bitter taste.

“Y/N,” you heard from her, a quiet plea into the night, “I’m sorry. Please come back.”

You’d heard her cry out for you before, but this time it hurt even more than usual. Your hands were still curled in fists and, after the feelings of regret and helplessness and pure rage boiled over, you lashed out, like you could hit one of the bottles on the table. The silence shattered as your hand made contact with the object, sending it clattering onto the wood surface of the side table, then rolling onto the floor. Your sister’s head snapped up, her eyes following the bottle. The last round of tears fell as she blinked rapidly and scrubbed at her eyes, trying to figure out what caused the bottle to move. She finally got up uneasily, now just dabbing gently at her eyes, before she picked up the bottle to dispose of it.

As she started to warily clean up the rest of the trash, you stared at your hands. There was no way…

It was late by the time your sister joined her boyfriend in bed and it was only slightly later when Jaehyun settled down to sleep. Johnny hadn’t spoken about Stella for the rest of the night and Jaehyun hadn’t asked. He agreed to meet him in two days to check out locations for the restaurant, and that was that. In some ways, he was grateful. The more he involved himself in this situation, the more he felt like everything was spiraling out of control. But, in the opposite way, he wished something more had changed. He just hoped that visiting your body will lead him to something better.

It took a little while, but he eventually fell asleep.

He didn’t remember arriving in the hospital, just opening the door to your room. Your hair was longer than it was when he saw you on the roof and you appeared almost skeletal, your cheekbones hollow and eye sockets sunken in deeper than they should be. Hadn’t the doctors been taking care of you?

When he leaned over, taking your hand, your eyes immediately flickered open, as if you’d been waiting for him. He blinked and you transformed, your skin glowing with life and hair full and luscious. “Jaehyun, you saved me.”

Your voice came out as a warble, confusing and bird-like. Not at all how you sounded when he talked to you before. He tried to speak, but you cut him off. “Y/N-” “You saved me, you saved me.” You repeated, the mantra becoming a sort of chant as you stared at him, unblinking. The fingers on the hand that he was still grasping began to turn into talons, sharp and digging into his skin. “You saved me, you saved me, you saved me.”

He awakened in a cold sweat and bolted into an upright sitting position. The city birds that hung out outside his window were chirping, faintly reminding him of the way your dream-self had sounded. He shivered and pressed his face into his hands. Why did he keep having nightmares about you?

The sunlight streaming through the window was a small comfort, reminding him that things were fine. He considered going back to sleep, but figured that if his body wanted him to get up, he might as well. From what he saw on the hospital website, visiting hours didn’t start for a little while, so he had time to get ready and do some work on the garden before he left. The physical labor took his mind off of things for a while, but the car ride to the hospital certainly didn’t. His car felt far too empty and quiet even with one of his favorite playlists on. He considered himself lucky that the drive was short, though most of the medical traffic for the more rural nearby towns flowed to this hospital because it’s the nearest city, small as it is. The parking garage felt miserable, drab and lifeless, and the inside of the hospital itself felt no different. Stark white, sterile except the dirt streaks on the tiles from visitors’ feet, walls largely undecorated save for large signs warning about various diseases.

The lady at the front desk didn’t ask too many questions when he signed in and said your name. She simply gave him a visitor pass and let him through, scrawling down his name in a sign-in book. Your room was on the fourth floor, so he made his way to the elevator, passing by a few people who appeared far more tired than he did. They’d clearly spent a lot of time here. Some had red eyes from crying, some were simply hunched over, staring at nothing. The elevator was empty and stayed that way for the entirety of his short ride. On the fourth floor, there were fewer people, these strangers milling and sitting about. One guy, maybe around his age, was seated on a bench, staring at an apple that Jaehyun assumed he had placed down next to him. He glanced at the strange boy but kept walking, eventually standing in front of the door that he had been directed to by both the check-in lady and your sister.

The doorknob turned easily, though the door creaked as he pushed it, showing signs of age that the hospital had tried to simply paint over. He let himself in and closed the door behind him, finally turning around and allowing himself to look at your body.

Thankfully, you weren’t as skeletal as he feared you would be. He almost laughed at how different the room arrangement was from his dream as well, the relief making him relax slightly. Your body looked to be in quite good shape despite the amount of time that you’d been in a coma. Patches of your hair were clearly shorter than the rest, where he assumed you had to have some sort of surgery, though signs of said operation were no longer quite visible. IVs were stuck in your skin, providing you with the fluids that you needed to stay alive. Whatever this version of alive was. Your skin didn’t have quite the same sheen to it that it did when he talked to you, but you looked largely the same, like you were asleep. It was almost strange for him to see you in different clothes than your usual paint-stained overalls and white tee, the blue and white hospital gown seeming unnatural. He had only ever seen you in the warm outside lighting of the rooftop, so seeing you under this white fluorescent lighting was almost a strain to his eyes. The thought crossed his mind that you looked far better surrounded by green and brown and blue than you did by all of this white.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said quietly, walking closer to your body. There was an empty vase at your bedside, so he opened his bag, revealing the flowers that he had purchased on the way here. It was a pretty standard arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath, but it brightened the room immensely. “It’s kind of strange to see you here. I hope these help. I would have brought you flowers from the roof, but they aren’t ready yet. Sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was looking for as he talked. Maybe a flicker of your eyelids, a twitch of your fingers. The air conditioning kicked on suddenly and the blast of chilly air made a few locks of your hair shift ever so slightly, almost tricking him into thinking that you moved on your own. After waiting for a moment, he finally reached for your hand. Your skin was colder here than it was when he touched you before. Your hand slotted into his nicely, but it was limp, unresponsive. A few minutes of nothing passed, time he spent just looking at you and repeating ‘please wake up’ in his head, before he quietly tucked your hand back under the covers of your bed.

“I hope you wake up soon,” he said, “so we can properly meet.”

As he exited the room, he kept his head down, mindlessly walking back to where he remembered the elevator being. The hallway was straight and long and, with his lack of attention, he ended up slamming into someone’s shoulder relatively hard. Both he and the other person staggered slightly, stopping in their tracks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking,” he said quickly, glancing sideways at the boy he had run into. He was the same guy he had seen sitting on the bench before, staring at the apple next to him. The look on his face was an extreme reaction, pure shock covering his features. Jaehyun cringed to himself. “Hey, I really didn’t mean-”

“You can see me. You can touch me.” The guy interrupted him, raising a hand to point at him. “It’s been so long since anyone’s been able to do that!” Oh shit.

“Look,” Jaehyun said quickly, panic immediately filling him, “I’m not trying to become some sort of ghost-whisperer. I’m already trying to help someone and I can’t handle more and more of you.”

“No, listen-” As Jaehyun tried to turn around, pretend like this never happened, the boy grabbed his arm, his fingers sharp as they dug into his skin slightly. “I saw you go into that girl’s room. From the sounds of it, you didn’t get what you wanted. I can help you.”

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at that. “If you can help me, why are you still like this?”

“I can help you. And her.” Jaehyun’s eyes shifted towards the door that he had just left behind, then back to the boy gripping his arm. “But I need your help first.”

[stillchaoticlogic]

Fated: A Prelude

Pairing: Reno x Reader

Summary: Ordinary days sometimes house the most extraordinary moments, even if we don’t know it at the time. On that fate filled day you would have never expected the red haired boy to one day become a Turk. You had no idea that your kindness would be repaid in ways you’ve never dreamed about. You had no idea he was the one you were meant to be with. Here’s your story.

A Prelude:

The day was the same as any other day. You could smell the distinct scent of chemicals on the breeze as the day held a bite of chill. The sky was bright though, despite the cold and that almost made up for it. 

As you passed, you could hear laughing from down the alleyway. A sound that should be joyful was anything but on this winter day. Instead, it was filled with cruel intentions. You turn towards the noise and in the shadows of the alley, you could make out about five boys all of them around your age of fifteen. Another noise disrupts the air, a terrified meow. The meow of something so tiny and helpless your heart clenches at the noise. 

“Hey!” you yell out without thinking, “What are you doing?!” 

The boys whip around to face you, taller and broader than you with a mean glint in their eyes they sneer at you. 

“None of your business you stuck up bitch.”

You would be lying if you say you’ve never been called stuck up or a bitch by the teen population of the surrounding area. Your family, like many, is somewhere between not enough and it’s going to be okay. If nothing else you have a roof over your head in a nice district and you’ve never gone to bed hungry, which is more than you can say for many your age. The sound of the frightened and pained kitten assaults your ears again. 

“It is if you’re hurting it.”

“I said,” one of the boys says through gritted teeth coming towards you, “Mind your business.”

The shove is unexpected and you hit the ground hard and fast. Another boy is behind him and with a well-placed kick to your ribs you’ve doubled over. The two boys turn around snickering to themselves as they rejoin the group and a hand is on your arm helping you up. “You okay?”

You glace and even though you’re seeing red from anger you’re almost shocked to see the red hair of the boy behind you. You nod your thanks to him before you grab a pipe on your way up. With a huff of defiance, you square your shoulders and grip the pipe. 

“What’re you?” questions the guy behind you.

“I said,” you start with a vengeance, “LEAVE IT ALONE.”

You don’t think about your next actions as you rush forward and smack the boy who pushed to the ground in the knee. He’s down in a moment yowling in pain. The boy who kicked you whips around in fury already posed to strike. You don’t give him a chance and with a thrust of the pipe into his stomach, he’s on the ground winded. The other three abandon the tiny creature and rush towards you. In a fury of attacks, you fend them off and beat them to the ground. It’s over before it really even started. 

“Remind me never to piss you off…” says a voice from behind you. 

He’s standing at the entrance to the alley with a smirk on his face. He’s already tall and too slim for his age. His red hair is wild and unkempt, his clothes are dirty and oversized. Clearly out of some bin or a cast-off of one of the more well off families. Who are you kidding? They are probably stolen. You recognize him from school, he’s in your class and like many of your classmates you assume, he just comes to school for the free meal. You don’t know him, he mostly keeps to himself, and when he does talk it’s usually because someone is starting something with him, which he never takes. He’s thin but formidable. He’s never bothered you, so you don’t have a problem with him. 

“Umm… Yeah…” you say awkwardly, unsure of what to say to him as you step over the boys and pick up the mewling kitten. It’s young, all manners of orange, black and white with long matted fur and an orange face. 

“We’re going to get you, you bitch…” grits out one of the boys. You ignore him as you step back around the boys. One of them reaches out to grasp your ankle and you jump out of his way. 

“All that for a kitten?” he asks as he falls into step beside you, he glances back every now and then as if to make sure no one is following you. 

“They were hurting it…” you pout. 

He chuckles, “So what are you going to do with it now?”

“Take care of it,” you say simply as you stop and regard him. You’re at your front door since you hadn’t been far from home when you heard the boys and kitten, it hadn’t taken you long to get there.

“Thank you,” you say with a soft smile, “for looking out for me. I probably shouldn’t have rushed in like that…”

“Well you handled yourself pretty well, so I didn’t really do anything,” he scratches the back of his head in discomfort. 

“Still, thank you,” you say with a nod before you head into your house with a wave. 

This was not a pivotal moment for you, you didn’t become close friends with the boy with red hair. You would occasionally smile at him at school in familiarity, but you wouldn’t call one another friends. You would frown when the people would tease him and even tell the snotty boys and girls to knock it off. You know he could hear them. Not that your opinion mattered to them, you were a nobody, and even if you didn’t go hungry at night, you didn’t have the influence of the affluential kids in the school. 

Therefore, both of your lives continued as they did before and before you knew it a couple of months have passed since that day you brought your kitten home.

There is a biting chill in the air and you knew it would get down to freezing that night. As you approach your home you’re surprised to see the boy with red hair gazing into your window. 

“What are you doing?” you ask from behind him. He jumps clearly startled at being caught, although he looks relieved when he sees you. 

“The kitten,” he says indicating the now 4-month kitten in the window, “it made it. I just wanted to see…”

You smile at him, “I’ll grab her so you can meet her!” you say with excitement.

You rush into your house and pluck her out of the window. She’s purring and rubbing happily against your chin as you take her outside. You feel her little claws dig into your coat and her tiny body tense up. You murmur soothing words to her as you bring her closer to him.

He smiles down at her before he offers his hand for her to smell. She does so hesitantly before rubbing her small face against his hand. He chuckles as he pets her, his long fingers running through her thick fur. 

“She’s cute,” he says softly so as not to startle her. 

“She’s the cutest,” you say happily as she snuggles happily against you. She situates herself right up under your chin and her purrs can be felt on your throat. 

“Well, I uh… don’t want to keep you out in the cold… so I’ll be going…”

“You have a place to stay tonight right?” you ask hesitantly. 

He stops dead in his tracks a few paces away from you.

“I’ll be fine… I always am…”

“It’s going to be really cold tonight though…” you don’t meet his eyes keeping them firmly on the ground beneath you. 

“What would you do about it if I don’t huh?” It’s a challenge. 

For the first time, he sounds a little angry, perhaps hurt.

You look up at him figuring that’s as much as an admission you would get from the prideful boy before you. 

“We have a shed… I could get you a sleeping bag… and a space heater…” Your eyes meet his vibrant blue ones. He has a look of surprise on his face and you look away again a blush on your face. “Maybe you could eat something too…”

“Your parents okay with that?”

“They don’t have to know…”

He nods in understanding and with a tilt of your head you have him follow you into the back yard. Well, it’s not really a yard, just the rest of your property, but enough of one to house a shed and a small patch of grass that you sometimes play on surrounded by a privacy fence. 

You wrap one arm around the kitten to hold her in place before you pull the door open and look into the room. Your mother likes to garden, so a few of her tools are in there along with some extra decorations. Nothing of value and with just enough space for him to stretch out on the floor. 

“You don’t have to do this…” he says, his discomfort obvious in his tense shoulders and ramrod back. He’s glancing around as if he’s afraid that someone will see. Will get suspicious. He looks ready to run.

“And you don’t have to be cold tonight,” you say decisively.

You turn around and rush back into the house only to come outside a few minutes later with a sleeping bag and a few pillows and blankets for him. You begin to set up a bed for him as he stands awkwardly behind you. You’re setting up the space heater when a deep voice startles you both from behind you. 

“What’s going on out here?” 

You whip around to face your dad and you sheepishly smile at him. 

“Umm…. well… you see…” You mutter trying to put the words together. 

“Does he have a place to stay tonight?” Your dad interrupts taking in the terrified look in his eyes and his stance. He looks like he would bolt at any given second. 

“No… he doesn’t and I don’t want something to happen to him tonight since it’s going to be so cold.”

“Are you friends?” You say as you stand and lace your fingers behind your back. 

“Kinda… he watched out for me when I got into that fight with those boys a few months back… When I brought home Milly.”

“I see… Well, he can stay out here tonight, I see you’ve already got a bed for him and a heater. I don’t see any harm in that.”

“Umm… Thank you…” He’s shocked as he answers your dad, his eyes wide as he glances between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome. When was the last time you had a good homecooked meal, son?” your dad asks fatherly. 

He looks away, a pained expression on his face, “Not for a long time sir…”

“Come on then, a hot meal and a shower would do you good. You can’t stay in the house since I’ve got little girls to look out for, but the shed’s sturdy and you should be just fine in their okay?”

“Yes sir, thank you!”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Reno.”

He catches your eyes and you can he can hardly believe what’s happening to him. A place to stay that’s warm and a hot meal. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. You can’t help but think that his smile is beautiful though. 

Dinner is quiet that night with your siblings gazing up at the strange boy at the table, who looks very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of your family. Your dad is lively enough to draw him into a conversation, easing the tension from his shoulders. Reno is quick to answer and respectful clearly not wanting to jeopardize his warm bed tonight. 

“So are you two classmates?” your dad asks after a lull in the current conversation. 

“We are, we’re in the same class.”

“Reno, do you do well in school?”

“Yes sir, I’m hoping to someday be a SOLIDER.”

“A SOLIDER?”

“Yes sir, I’m hoping to apply next year,” you can see the way his eyes light up as he thinks about it.

“I see…” 

You can see the gears turning in your father’s head and you knew that he had a plan for the boy sitting across from you at the table. The topic of conversation switches to some recent news and you all chat idly about things happening at Shinra. Your dad is an employee and is hoping to be promoted soon. Reno is excited when hears this and asks him a whole bunch of questions about the company. Your dad answers them calmly and the two get into a discussion about the future of the company. Reno looks like he’s on cloud nine when your dad says he will recommend him for one of Shinra’s fledgling programs. His eyes light up and you can tell he can hardly believe what he’s hearing. 

“I don’t understand why…” he asks in confusion. 

“You helped out my daughter, made sure she got home safe from a potentially bad situation. Think of it as my thank you, from one man to another.”

He nods in understanding, barely able to believe what he’s hearing. Reno can’t remember a time that someone treated with such respect, talked to him like he was a person and not just a blight on society. 

After dinner is over you take him outside to the shed and explain how the heater works.

“Uhh… Thanks… tonight was…” he trails off and looks away from you. 

“You’re welcome… Just don’t forget me when you become some amazing SOLIDER okay?”

He chuckles and looks down at you through his red hair, more vibrant now that’s he’s showered, “You know I couldn’t do that… forget you I mean… no one’s been this nice to me in a long time.”

A frown falls onto your face, “That’s so stupid… people aren’t better than you because of what they have and you don’t.”

“They don’t see it that way… Yeah, I’ve had to do some shit to survive, but so has every other kid on the street,” he looks ruefully away from you red coloring his neck and ears. 

You tilt your head to one side as you regard him, “It’ll get better.”

“Yeah, it will. When I’m a SOLIDER no one’s gonna disrespect me.”

“That’s why you want to be a SOLIDER? For respect?”

“Well yeah and it pays decently. I want a place to call my own and if I want that no one’s gonna give it to me. I gotta work for it.”

“You’re right, you do. I’m sure you can do it. You are the fastest one in the district after all,” you say with a laugh. 

You see a faint blush on his cheeks before he looks up scratching his cheek in embarrassment. 

“Get some sleep Reno, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night…” he murmurs almost wistfully as he crawls into the makeshift bed feeling safe and warm for the first time in a long time. 

However, the next morning you don’t see him. In fact, it will be many years before you see the red-headed boy named Reno. After all your dad had made good on his promise. He took Reno into work for a recommendation for one of the Fledgling programs and Reno started the rest of his life that day. He never forgot you though and hoped to one day see you again.

Notes: Let’s not pretend we weren’t expecting this. I love my bad boy. This also just kind of hit me. I literally picked up the controller to continue the game today and then set it down to write this. I’m not sorry. Anyway I hope you like this! Please leave me some feed back and drop a like. If you want to be tagged let me know!

[chaseatinydream]

treasure: your name || k.hj (atz)

Steering the ship had always been second nature for Hongjoong.

It was such a contrast to when he was in battle, hand gripped tight around the handle of his cutlass and the other around his musket. No, steering the ship required a more fine and delicate touch, one that most warriors didn’t possess.

His hands seemed to be be made for it, delicate when it came to feeling for the ship. He could sense the power of the sea as it rushed against the rudder of the Treasure, every tiny shift in the wind, the beginning of a storm when the sky was still clear and devoid of clouds. The Treasure and its crew were his pride and joy, and he would never tire of this life he had built for himself with his own two hands.

But he had to admit steering the ship was sometimes mind blowingly numb work.

From the quarterdeck, one could almost see everything there was to see; which wasn’t much. In front of him were the three masts and the main deck, where Wooyoung or San or basically any crew member of his would be doing something stupid, but he’d long learned not to look down there in case he lost his sanity watching them go at it.

Jongho occasionally sang, which brightened Hongjoong’s mood up greatly, but he usually got interrupted by Seonghwa calling him to help move some things in the cargo hold below or just by Wooyoung or Yunho teasing him.

Hongjoong sighed as he gazed at the expanse of blue before him. His head tilted up.

Blue sky.

He looked down.

Blue sea.

“I really need to find something to do.” The poor captain muttered to himself as he glanced at the water clock.

There were still three hours till Mingi took over him.

He let out an almighty groan and smacked his head against the wheel.

“You alright, captain?” Hongjoong turned to see his navigator walking up the stairs with a plate in hand. The captain almost cried in joy upon seeing his dinner and grabbed for his food.

“Just the usual.” He answered grimly as he shoved the bread roll into his mouth. “And call me Hongjoong.”

“Yes, captain.” Yeosang nodded absentmindedly as he peered down onto deck. “Ah, it’s the stowaway. He made your breakfast, you know.”

Hongjoong gave him a disgruntled look as he continued chewing on his bread. “And…?”

He knew what Yeosang was trying to get at. The navigator blinked at him innocently, his puppy dog eyes almost worthy to match Wooyoung’s in combat. Then Hongjoong sighed. It was futile to try and turn down Yeosang, everyone on the ship knew as much. The navigator never did throw a temper tantrum or get angry, but he would mope and sulk around for days and that was terrible for crew morale.

“I mean… It must be pretty boring standing here watching nothing.” Yeosang said slowly, as if he was asking a drunk how many fingers he was holding up. “It’ll be a nice change to have something to do…”

Hongjoong eyed him, completely unimpressed by his subtlety, or rather, lack thereof. But his navigator didn’t leave. Instead, he simply kept smiling that same, expectant smile at his captain, and Hongjoong finally caved with a sigh.

“Alright! I’ll think about it.” Hongjoong had known that the battle had been lost from the start. He regretted it almost instantly from the way a little self satisfied grin bloomed across Yeosang’s face. “Now get going before I change my mind.”

“Yes, captain!” His navigator hummed cheerily, turning to walk down the steps with a little spring in his step. Hongjoong groaned. Did nobody on this ship respect him any more?

“Call me Hongjoong!” He called after Yeosang’s retreating back. The young man merely waved in response, not even bothering to turn back.

“Yes, captain!”

Sighing, Hongjoong straightened up as he nudged the wheel a little to the left. Looking down onto the main deck, he saw the topic of his and Yeosang’s conversation being led around by Seonghwa as the older man explained the parts of the ship to him.

The stowaway was young, probably even younger than he. A tiny, slender thing with no real muscles or bulk, he looked as if a stiff breeze could send him overboard at any second. He didn’t seem like he’d survive long on a pirate ship.

Well, he had survived an encounter with the legendary ‘Pirate King’.

Hongjoong snorted a little at his own thought process. Then he looked back at the nameless stowaway. He knew Seonghwa and San had been itching to give their newest crew member a name, but he also knew why they were refraining from doing so.

A sigh left his mouth as he recalled the two other crew members who’d joined the ship in a manner similar to his recent addition. Both had somehow run up the gangplank and he hadn’t thrown them overboard yet…

He had stopped such barbaric practices month ago. In fact, Jongho was more likely to do that than he was, all Hongjoong did was threaten people with it. But back to his little gangplank problem.

He should really start making it a thing to check the cargo hold before they left any port.

“This is a recurring problem.” He muttered under his breath as he glanced at the stowaway once more. Seas, the word ‘stowaway’ was really a bit of a mouthful.

Maybe he needed a name.

That night, Hongjoong sat on the bed of his cabin, a dusty, long unused book in his lap. He stared at it for a long moment, chewing at his lip as he glanced over at the cover.

A Complete Guide to Commonly Used Names in The East and Their Meaning.

His fingers flipped through the dog-eared pages once more after three years, the action almost ingrained into him by now. He'd learnt to read a little ever since he joined the crew of the Jackdaw, but had never been particularly proficient in it till Yeosang had become part of his ship.

Choosing a name was harder than he remembered it being.

He thumbed to a page all the way at the back, coughing a little at the dust rising from it.

우영

Ah, yes. He remembered late nights poring over this book, diligently bookmarking names that had seemed appropriate for who had been the newest crew member of his ship then.

The only other of his family on board who had started out nameless.

His finger brushed the two characters that make up the name of one of his oldest friends gently. 우, meaning ‘friend’, and ,영, a corolla, the centre of a flower.

I hope that one day you will be surrounded by friends who can be your family.

For a moment, Hongjoong closed his eyes and let himself remember.

“I'm so sorry!” The captain of the small pirate galley apologized profusely, his face white with fear. In fact, he was trembling so much he was nearly shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I apologize deeply for the foolishness of my crew, milord.”

Hongjoong was no lord. Far from it, in fact. But as the most feared pirate of the Seven Seas, known as the legendary pirate king, he guessed that he was considered royalty among his brethren.

Hongjoong didn't deign the man worthy of a reply. Instead, his one eye took in the ship contemptuously, face darkening as he spotted the rows of oarsmen sitting chained to the oars. Many were either hard muscled and lean from a lifetime of torturous service, or skinny and malnourished due to hunger. He guessed the latter might perish in a couple of months, at most.

Slaves, he knew most of them were. A bleak lifetime of suffering and pain, hopeless and barren of any sort of joy. A fate worse than death itself.

“One of your men just tried to assault my captain.” Mingi snarled, brandishing his massive axe. On anyone else, the axe would have looked too long and unwieldy to be practical in any sort of battle, but his faithful quartermaster lifted it as easily as a twig. “Even if Captain does let you off the hook, I can assure you I won't. I want your head.”

The captain of the ship fell to his knees in shock, tremors running through his whole body. “Mercy!”

Hongjoong ignored the little fiasco, casually looking about the ship. The galley tended to have oarsmen as its main driving power behind movement and was a lot more reliable than the winds.

Then he snorted. Not for his crew, though.

A downside of a slave galley was its strength, the slaves. Slaves took up much space and consumed large amounts of food, which took up space as well. The alternative was that the ship's crew simply overworked the rowing crews till many of them died of exhaustion in the fetid conditions, before capturing another rowing crew from a raid.

Hongjoong was by no means a merciful man, but this sort of behaviour disgusted him.

“Now, now. Let's not be so worked up over this.” Yunho smiled easily, patting Mingi’s tightly wound shoulder. The quartermaster stepped back with reluctance, dark eyes still fixed on the ship's captain, as Yunho moved forward to negotiate. The grovelling man, seeing the battlemaster's cheerful grin, began to sigh a breath of relief, until Yunho continued his sentence.

“We should flay him alive instead.”

A whimper left the captain's lips at the very thought. The whip was something all sailors knew well, the cat of nine tails left a deep impression on anyone it encountered, both physical and mental. Being flogged to death was one of the most terrifying and painful ways to go.

Hongjoong looked over at the foolish man who had been the cause of all this. He was shaking as he prostrated himself before them. Hongjoong hadn’t known that anyone would be foolhardy or unlucky enough to attempt to rob him, of all people.

The little robbery attempt had gone rather poorly. Upon feeling a hand on the coin purse tied to his belt, Hongjoong had reacted according to instinct, twisting the thief’s arm so hard that the shoulder had popped right out of its socket and tossing the man to the ground. In a second, Yunho had been at his side, slamming the man so hard against the wall that he’d been knocked unconscious. But there was no need to interrogate him; Hongjoong had recognised the emblem on his jacket as the same ship the Treasure was docked beside.

At first, Hongjoong had just intended on telling Mingi that they were about to return a crew member to his ship, but then Yunho had spilled the beans and his ever loyal quartermaster had refused to let it slide. The tall man had simply grabbed his axe and marched over to the opposite ship, all while hauling the limp body of Hongjoong’s would be assaulter behind him like a sack of potatoes, leaving Hongjoong and Yunho to catch up with him.

And that was how they had ended up here.

“Please, spare me!” The cowardly captain was snivelling. Hongjoong sighed. No captain should ever behave that way in front of his men. If Mingi did decide to kill him, he should at least die with some self-dignity.

Then Hongjoong saw him.

A slave boy barely over fifteen, a thick leather collar resting against his throat. He had the most striking hair Hongjoong had ever seen, a rich shade of purple that was both unnatural, but fit him perfectly at the same time. Around his wrists were heavy iron shackles, same as those of the rest of the slaves, and his arms were adorned with flowering bruises in shades of blue-black, purple and red. Branches of whip scars and fallen leaves of the branding iron painted his body into a canvas of what must have been a lifetime of horrific suffering.

A wilting flower in the midst of a desolate wasteland.

Strangely, his face was well formed, not in the least marred like the rest of his body had been. But it didn’t need to. The boy’s eyes were more than enough to tell him everything.

They were green, just like his. But where Hongjoong’s burned with a fire, a passion to live and shine bright in the world, this boy’s eyes were empty, glassy, and utterly dead.

It looked as if there was no soul inhabiting this body, a mere empty vessel of clay.

“I want him.” Hongjoong pointed at the boy. The slave didn’t respond in the slightest, apart from a flicker of the eyes.

“What?” The captain of the ship sputtered in stunned shock. Even Mingi and Yunho seemed to be in varying degrees of confusion.

“Hyung.” Yunho approached his captain, brow furrowed. “What do you want?”

Hongjoong ignored Yunho for a moment and turned to the captain, who was wearing an expression of complete bewilderment. “I want that boy. Give him to me, and I’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

Desperate to please the Pirate King and save the skin on his back, the captain agreed without second thought.

“Mingi, break his chains and bring him with us.” The quartermaster didn’t understand, but obeyed anyway, moving to carry out his captain’s orders.

“What’s his name?” Hongjoong turned coldly to the snivelling captain, who yelped in fright at being addressed directly Hongjoong before scrambling to reply.

“He… he doesn't have one.”

Hongjoong smiled a little at the memory. Names were important, to him at least. A name was your identity to the person who’d given you the name. Whether it was your parents, or kin, it meant something.

He should really give this stowaway a name as well.

“Well, to work then.” He cracked his knuckles and dove straight into the book.

At first minutes passed, then hours. In fact, he didn't even realise that he had gotten so deep in thought, to the point the sun had already sunk behind the ocean waves. The flickering light of the candle made it hard to read, but as if he'd let something as small as that stop him.

“Captain, why are you still up?”

Hongjoong sprang into action, leaping from the bed and half drawing his musket until he realised Yeosang's face was right in front of his, holding his breakfast.

Wait, breakfast?

He whirled around to stare out of one of the potholes. Sure enough, he could see the line of orange rising from the sea, turning the sky into a beautiful gradient of apricot and tangerine.

“Shit.” Hongjoong rushed to pick up his red jacket, sliding his arms into the sleeves as quickly as possible. “Mingi has been steering for the last eleven hours?”

“It’s alright!” Yeosang said cheerily, setting the plate of food down on the bed and subtly swiping the book from the side. “I rotated with him for four hours. So did San.”

A horrified look of complete dismay crossed Hongjoong’s face. “San steered my ship?”

“Come on, you know he’s improved! He only ran us aground twice last year.” The navigator smiled, flipping through the book with interest. Hongjoong was still too agitated to notice what Yeosang was doing.

“That’s twice too many!” Hongjoong ranted, a hundred and one scenarios running through his mind at the thought of his precious ship being hulled because San had been at the wheel. “It’s dangerous to let San near the steering wheel and- What are you doing?”

Hongjoong made a grab for the book, but Yeosang twirled out of the way like a professional ballerina, reading through some of the names he’s chosen.

“Si Woo, meaning ‘begin’, ‘blessing’ and ‘divine intervention’. Hae Ju, meaning ‘jewel of the ocean’.” The captain yelped and dove for the book, but Yeosang sidesteped him and stuck a foot out to trip him. Hongjoong went staggering and fell face first onto the bed, all while Yeosang continued reading.

“Mal Chin, meaning ‘persisting till the end’-” Hongjoong finally managed to snatch the book back, hugging the book protectively to his chest and looking utterly betrayed.

“I am the captain!” Yeosang looked like he was about to laugh at the look on Hongjoong’s face.

“I thought you’ve always said to call you Hongjoong?”

The captain scowled. This little shit…

“Anyway, I should go.” Yeosang got up and made to leave the cabin with a self satisfied grin on his face. For a moment, Hongjoong dearly wanted to slap his navigator in the face with the book in his hands. “I need to tell San to take over Mingi at the wheel.”

Hongjoong was stunned silent for a moment. Then he tossed the book onto the bed and raced after Yeosang’s retreating back, screaming.

“Don’t let San touch my ship!”

That afternoon, Hongjoong had been lost in thought once more. The wind was good, exceptionally so that day, the currents steady and unchanging. Hongjoong leaned forward and rested his head against the wheel, taking a short break.

The first and last name he had ever bestowed was a name of hope for the future, a new beginning from his stark, desolate past. But this new stowaway had no past nor future yet. He didn’t know what to wish for the newest member of his crew, whether it be for love, family, friends. Or should he name the boy after a striking, physical defining trait?

He heaved a sigh. The last name he had chosen had been a lot easier.

Sure, he’d spent countless nights and hours debating and flipping through his books, but when he had seen the words, Hongjoong had immediately known in his heart that was the name for him.

“Why the long face, captain?” Yunho’s voice slipped into his ears. Hongjoong snorted under his breath.

“You can’t see my face.” Hongjoong reminded him, his voice muffled by the wood of the steering wheel. The lookout let out a chuckle of laughter.

“I don’t need to see your face to know what you look like, cap’n. I’ve known you for three years.” Yunho snickered as Hongjoong finally raised his head to look at him. The tall man was dangling upside down from a rope of the mizzenmast, swinging back and forth like some sort of bizarre pendulum. “Ahh, there’s the long face I was talking about.”

“Call me Hongjoong.” The poor captain sighed. “Honestly, you-”

“Everyone on this ship calls you, captain, Hongjoongie-hyung. Here, my apprentice just finished making these.” Hongjoong turned to see San ascending the stairs with a grin on his face. In his hands were two new stuffed toys. Hongjoong pointed at their resident healer.

“Why can’t you all be like him?”

San tossed one to each of them as Yunho gave his captain the most excited smile he had ever seen. “You mean you want us all to attempt to take the wheel of the ship? Awesome! I’ve never gotten to touch the wheel before!” He dropped from the rigging and moved closer to Hongjoong. “Come on, let me have a go-”

“No!” Hongjoong was flabbergasted. “That’s not what I meant!”

“What’s the commotion?” Mingi moved up the steps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. To both his horror and relief, Yeosang had been joking with him earlier, San had not steered the ship, but instead Mingi had endured the helm for almost seven whole hours. Hongjoong had apologised to his quartermaster earlier, but his oldest friend had merely waved it off before going to take a caulk (pirate speak for ‘nap’) below deck.

“Oh!” Yunho clasped his hands together, as if just remembering something important. “Did Yeosangie tell all of you about that?”

That?

Apparently Hongjoong was the only one who doesn’t get that, because Mingi and San both made noises of comprehension and agreement.

“Ahh, that.”

“Guys, wait-” Hongjoong tried to say, but Yunho scratched his hair in deep contemplation.

“I like the first one better.”

First one?

“Nah, I still like the second one more.” Mingi shook his head, hair mussed up from sleep. San moved over to rearrange the threads in his cerulean blue hair and Mingi muttered a ‘Thank You’ sleepily through a yawn.

Second one?

“Well, I prefer the fourth one.” San shrugged, but then turned to look at Hongjoong with piercing eyes. “But in the end it’s still captain’s choice, isn’t it?”

“Wait a second.” Hongjoong’s brain was still trying to catch up. “What are all of you talking about?”

The three of them exchanged glances. Then San spoke up again, more clearly this time.

“I like the name Ha-Eun. That’s the fourth name, isn’t it?”

Mingi nodded. “The rest of the crew likes the name Da-Hae though. Says it makes sense because he’s a pirate boy now.”

“But Stowaway isn’t very big (Da-Hae means big ocean).” Yunho frowned, his arms crossed as he pondered this. “Hey, captain, do you think the name Young-Jae sounds good?”

Three of his closest friends turned to stare at him.

Hongjoong stared back at all of them for a moment, his mind in a bit of a shock.

Then he slammed his head against the wheel and let out a muffled scream.

A few nights later, Hongjoong sat in his cabin alone with a flickering lantern. Mingi was instructing Yeosang on some of the finer points of steering a ship, while Hongjoong continued reading the book he had slaved so long over.

Woof!

Hongjoong looked up to see a small Shiba Inu wagging its tail excitedly, running up to him. Hongjoong felt his face relax into a smile.

“Aish, Shiber, stop!” The captain laughed as San’s pet dog licked his cheeks and nose, nosing his eye patch with gusto. He patted the side of Yeosang’s bed. “Listen to some names I’ve chosen?”

Woof! Shiber leapt onto where Hongjoong had indicated, before flopping onto its belly with a softer, content bark. Hongjoong nodded, pulling out the list of names he’d shortlisted as he settled against the wall next to Shiber. The small dog snuggled into his side.

“So, here’s the first name. Da-Hae. Da means big and Hae means ocean, so it’s kind of related to the sea, am I right? I mean, we’re pirates, so…” Hongjoong shrugged, glancing through the notes he’d taken about it. “I do think it makes sense, though. What do you think? Is it any good, Shiber?”

Woof! The small dog wagged its tail enthusiastically, tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Hongjoong sighed in relief, fingers scratching Shiber’s head. “Good. I thought it might have been a little too boring. Then there’s Eun Ae, meaning grace and love. The stowaway does seem a little soft for the pirate life. Ah, never mind that. I’m sure Jongho or San or Seonghwa will take care of him. So, what do you think about this name, Shiber?”

Woof!

The captain smiled. “That’s nice to hear. I’m not really eloquent with words, so it’s good that you’re here to help me.” He flipped to the next page. “What about Ji Woo?”

Silence.

“Not that nice, huh?” Hongjoong shrugged, crossing the name out with his quill. “Yeah, maybe it’s not mighty and awe inspiring enough for someone who’s going to be a pirate. But I don’t want his name to be too intimidating though. It doesn’t suit him.”

Hongjoong exhaled, leaning against the wall as he pondered this carefully. The stowaway, who he had thought to be of the Royal Navy, an amnesiac, lost and without family. San and Seonghwa had both told him that the boy was determined to regain his memories, one way or another, and to be honest, Hongjoong wasn’t sure whether he ever would.

Memories were tricky business.

San had told him multiple times that he’d been blessed by a sea god, but Hongjoong had absolutely no recollection of it at all. And even if it were true, even if a sea god did exist, why would he bless him, of all people?

Hongjoong snorted at the absurdity of it all, shaking his head. Then he spoke aloud quietly, his voice a little raw with emotion. “I want a name that both represents the identity of that kid and gives him hope. He has neither now… but I want to give him the gift of a well thought name, at least. He doesn’t have his memories… But he wants to find them. So I should give him a name relating to that. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Silence.

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed suddenly as he stared at the Shiba Inu with betrayed eyes. Shiber looked at him innocently, tail wagging energetically. Then Hongjoong repeated his words from earlier, slower and more deliberate.

“Do you think that’s a good idea… Shiber?”

Woof!

Hongjoong buried his face in the pillow and screamed.

“I can’t believe you were just responding to your name the whole time! I trusted you, Shiber!”

Woof! Oh, the dog was just making fun of him now.

Hongjoong screamed again in despair and rolled over in the blankets, staring at the ceiling. “Get out and let me wallow in my self pity for a moment, please.”

Shiber merely barked joyously before trotting out of the room, presumably to find San or Seonghwa for more treats. Hongjoong heard the thump of his book falling to the ground as the dog left the room.

“I hate that dog.” His words were muffled by the pillow, but he begrudgingly got up to pick up his list.

And a page fell out of it.

Frowning, Hongjoong picked up the piece of yellowing paper with his fingers. Only one word on the page caught his eye.

“Chin Hae, meaning ‘truth’ or ‘depth of the ocean’. Describes a long search for something unknown and as endless as the sea for the truth.”

He thought about it for a moment. Something felt right, a warm settling in his chest.

He smiled.

[noneatnonedotcom]

RWBY before Oswald is stuck in a hard place the council needs a mission done but no one is willing to sully their hands and he can't bring himself to go see jaune he tries to talk to ruby only to have her publicly rip him a new one stating her beloved isn't a tool to be used by him and the council when he sees fit

   right so sorry I took so long with this but as you can see I did put a lot of effort into this, I hope you all like it. also @bssaz97 I’m tagging you because I know you like this au and wanted to do a scene or two with summer and tai so figured it was best to make sure you were in on the new “cannon”

                                       ADAM’S PEAK

This was a disaster, not just militarily but personally. It was devastating news, and Oswald wasn’t sure just what to do about it.

A white fang general had taken the faunas’ elite troops and had gone on a mad crusade through Vale’s countryside. In a little under a week, they would cross the western mountain chains and be into their heartlands.

The fact that Adam was not acting under orders would do little to calm the hatred of vale and the other kingdoms. Menagerie might very well be whipped off the map as a result.

The actual problem was that the huntsmen were not ready for combat like this, he barely had a thousand of the newly minted warriors, and adam was marching with some six-thousand-five-hundred troops. All with aura unlocked. All with years, sometimes decades of experience in human combat. And well equipped too. The only ones with an army left after his idea to rely solely on huntsmen was Atlas. And their military commanders were… less than ready for the war to come.

There was only one man who could save them, and Oswald already owed him too much to be willing to ask him himself.

But his hands were tied with the news that came in this morning. The council of Atlas had called back the expeditionary force under the command of ironwood. There was a significant uproar over this fact, and the returning general ironwood had launched an investigation, but Oswald knew the truth.

The first battle with the white fang was a disaster. While ironwood managed to get his men out fast enough, Adam had defeated the army soundly. It was only ironwood’s impeccable tactical understanding that allowed him to survive it. With most of his army but none of the provisions as their camp was ransacked and raided as they were forced to retreat.

And now only one man could save them, and Oswald couldn’t bring himself to ask.

When he explained the situation to ruby, she had been quiet for a long time before she finally asked, “Is that all he is to you? A sword you can draw in times of war and put away when you’d rather not face the dark truth? Who do you think you are to ask him for more after what he gave! His family was nearly left destitute by you! His legacy and way of life are gone! His reputation tarnished! His very dreams now taken from him, and I have to lie awake a night listening to his nightmares! All on your orders!” she was shouting, now unable to sit with the anger coursing through her. “WHAT MORE CAN YOU TAKE FROM HIM? THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU, OSWALD. ALL THAT’S LEFT TO HIM IS HIS LIFE AND HIS HONOR!” she was crying now Oswald reached out trying to offer comfort to the girl by she smacked his hand away.

She glared at the man she once saw as a grandfather “he’ll go, we both know he’ll go. He’s a knight of Vale. He’ll always stand ready to protect those he loves. He’ll give the full measure of devotion for his kingdom” she turned away “you don’t deserve him, none of you do, but he’ll take up lance and sword for you” her final words as she shut the door behind her “you deserve eternal life.”

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

In the backroom of the council chambers, Adam Taurus smirked, looking over his weapon a katana. Menagerie had ordered him to stand down. Told him that the time of heroes was at an end. But adam knew there was one last trial left for those who sought to be a hero. One final glory before the end of the age. And his name was Sir. Jaune the Just.

Though adam preferred his other name.

The butcher of anima.

The knight’s age was coming to an end, he knew it, jaune knew it, everyone knew it. But there would be one last glorious battle before the end. It was only a matter of setting things up. He needed jaune out of vale and away from his retenue. Luckily for him, the council wanted to be rid of the knight. And of Oswald. All they needed to do was have Oswald be the one who sent jaune out, and when the hero died, both would be gone.

This battle needed to happen. It was his last chance. If he missed this, it was over. His name would never be mentioned in the history books. But if he could take the head of the butcher? Then his name would live forever as the last knight of the world. And the last great general.

When the councilors came and told him the news, he was overjoyed. But he kept his mask up. All he needed from these fools was a chance to kill jaune. Once that was done, their bargain was complete.

And vale was wide open for plunder.

Yes, if this was the last act of the heroic age, let him return to menagerie with a heroes bounty.

In a week’s time, he would face jaune at a no named castle fortress. He didn’t mind that it had no name. For by the end of this, it would be known as adam’s peak!

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

Jaune stood before his army, his steel-like gaze casting over the lot of them. They were not knights, not even soldiers and barely men, but they were his. Not for the first time, he cursed the council for sending these men out to die with him rather than having the courage to execute him themselves simply. But he put aside his anger; this wasn’t about the council; this was about his men.

“Nothing is more becoming of a man than to be brave before your enemy,” he began, his voice clear and level as he made eye contact with as many of these boys as he could. Seeking to let them know he was there with them, “but a man may be afraid and still be brave!”

The soldiers, despite their nerves and apparent fear, perked up at this, “And any man who goes into battle without fear is a moonstruck fool! To be brave is to go forward anyway, no matter how a-feared! That is why I go forward in the company of so many other brave men.”

Jaune shot the men before him a grim, but encouraging smile, “I will not lie to you, I can promise you nothing but a hard struggle to come.” Jaune was met with silence before he continued you on, “What would you have me say? I will not lie, not to you, and not for any matters of strategy or state. I will not shame myself as such. But there is one thing I will tell you.”

“YOUR FATE SHALL BE THE SAME AS MINE,” the men cheered at this, “whatever glories in the battle to come, I want you to know that we shall share them, I will be by your side!”

Jaune saw the enemy army marching over the last swell of the hill, having divided themselves into two separate forces consisting of thirty-five hundred men each.

“It is a great honor to be thought of by the kingdoms as an educated and well-read man. After all, it is the home of one of the greatest places of learning in the world! But I tell you this, in all of my studies, I have never encountered the likes of our foes! They would fill bestiaries yet unwritten, and good scholars would blush to write of their perversities!”

“And finally, I can tell you as a man of learning that a book can be beneficial before a battle, I would not recommend Tacitus though, the pages of his books are very rough on your nether regions!” the men laughed. Jaune raised his sword, “THEY WILL REMEMBER!”

A great cheer went up as the men rushed to their positions, forming together in tight spear walls on the mountain’s steep incline.

For Jaune, there was only one truth that rang in his head at the moment, that invincibility is found in defense, but victory can only be found in the offense. It’s why he had ignored the small wooden walls of the “castle” behind him.

No, he wouldn’t die cowering behind the wooden wall of a fort. His destiny lay down the hill before him. And with a determined look upon his face, Jaune kicked his horse into a gallop and went down the hill; his banner raised high...

… And rode right past the second army, making their way up towards him.

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

Adam would give this to Jaune; he had indeed done his best to give his men every possible advantage. A lesser commander would have hidden behind those wooden walls at the top of the mountain, but not Jaune. He had sallied out and met him, man to man, on the field of battle. But Adam wasn’t worried. Even with such a steep incline helping the enemy, they were no match for trained soldiers with armor and aura.

The poor peasants that the council had sent to die with Jaune would be remembered at the very least, as they would have the privilege of taking place in the last battle of the Age of Knights. A movement out of the corner of his eyes showed him the banner of house arc proudly dancing in the breeze, with Jaune running down the mountainside right past his army.

He immediately ordered his second army to give chase as the envelopment meant nothing to him. In time these farmers with their pointy sticks would fall, but Jaune must not be allowed to escape and rally a defense elsewhere.

It was not some three minutes later when his lieutenants spoke of Jaune coming for them, leaving Adam to gape at such an action. What Lunacy, surely, no one would be foolish enough to charge an army on their own?!

Adam had little time to comprehend his enemy’s ploy, for when he turned around to the battlefield, he was greeted with a sight to behold. For there before him, plowing through his men as if they were nothing more than dominoes to be toppled over was Jaune Arc: His horse a resplendent white; His armor a polished to a perfect shine; and with his lance couched at a perfect angle as he connected with the unsuspecting Adam’s armor.

There was a moment of resistance before Adam felt weightless as he was taken off his horse from the momentum of Jaune’s weapon crashing against his armor. Then, he felt a flare of pain as Jaune’s lance tore through his armor and pierced his heart in a clean kill before his limp body crashed against the cold, hard ground in an undignified heap.

And then, there was nothing but the void of darkness to greet him.

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

Lie Ren was not a knight. He wasn’t even a soldier. He was a farmer, a poor one at that, so when the council had said they needed men to act as levies, he’d signed up. He figured they’d have him digging ditches and carrying supplies, nothing too overtly complex he’d imagine.

But not this

The world was a haze of violence and pain in front of him; faunas in heavy armor struggled uphill through their wall of spears. He thrust without thinking, hoping that it might dissuade the warriors, while every few seconds, another cry would go up as one of his allies took a blow. Nearly all of them were bleeding now, yet none dared to fall, for to fall now would surely lead to their death. Before them, the mass of knights had formed a solid wall; he’d kill for a musket like the one Nora had wanted to buy him, but it was too expensive, and he wanted to save the money to get new farm equipment.

That steam tractor seemed so frivolous right now.

A flash of steel was his only warning as the man next to him died, clutching his throat. Eyes wide, begging for help the first one but most likely not the last. Ren thrust the spear, again and again, ignoring his growing fatigue as he did so. He’d survive this, and he’d make it home to Nora, that’s all that mattered.

But how? They were surrounded.

He wondered if Nora would find another, he hoped so. She deserved happiness, more than he could offer her, that was for sure. Her smile was the best thing about her. It was what drove him to work so hard. Knowing that she’d be back at home waiting for him, he could endure any hardships for that smile. He was hoping to marry her when he got back when the farm was stabilized, and they could build their lives together.

He hoped she wouldn’t mourn too long.

It was just as he was about to give up when he saw him; Sir Arc had gotten behind enemy lines. Down the massive slope, he could see the other half of the army giving chase. And it all happened in slow motion.

Sir Arc Riding up the hill

His lance lowered just as the enemy general turned to see him.

A great screeching as the lance went through the armor of the faunas.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

And then they started screaming.

Panic took the enemy that just a second before was utterly unfazed by them. But now, with their spirits broken, so too was their aura.

The battle was now a haze of red, and Ren gave chase without thinking. He needed this, needed to kill them as they had tried before. He stabbed with his spear running down the fleeing knights as they tried to escape his spear, barely having the time to rechamber as he killed with reckless abandon.

This was no longer a battle; it was a glorious red hazed slaughter, the most potent high of rage elation and victory ren had ever felt, and he needed more, and more, and more! Let the world drown in his enemy’s blood.

HE’D KILL THEM ALL!

Eventually, though, they ran out of men. And ren came down from his high, all around him were tired bloody men, but more importantly, the field was covered in a carpet of dead knights, so much so that the grass couldn’t be seen underneath.

Ren looked at the sky, and that couldn’t be right.

The sun hadn’t moved; it was still high noon.

It had felt like hours, but…

“One thousand men, and seven and a half minutes,” came the voice of Sir Arc. Ren took in the sight of their savior. His horse, once pure white, was now covered in red. His armor the same, his eyes tired. “That’s what it took to gain victory over six-thousand-eight-hundred and thirty-eight men. All consisted of the greatest knights still living after the great war, and the Faunus rights revolution. And the leadership to the militant arm of the white fang” Sir Arc laughed, “and it took me seven and a half minutes AND A THOUSAND FARMERS WITH POINTY STICKS!” and the call went up, the men cheered and hollered. Their cries echoing off the mountain.

Ren would go home to Nora; when he did, they would make love, to the point that he exhausted her. And they would keep going until a week later when Ren’s pay would show up, along with a sizable bonus, and a note.

In time all this would happen, but for now, ren stood on the pile of corpses, covered in blood, spear raised high over his head, and he screamed his victory to the gods on the slopes of what would be known as Adam’s peak.

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

Legends would be told of this battle jaune knew as he looked over the clean up being done by his men, the knights of note and the leaders were being beheaded, jaune personally doing the honors for adam. He had plans for all of them. He also had a message from adam’s personal effects back at his camp. He and the council would be having words, and all the world would know of their misdeeds.

The battle itself was the deathblow to the knightly way of life though, jaune could feel it in his bones. It was jaune’s victory purely because of the weaknesses of the knightly system. Aura was based on morale, how willing to fight a man was. When things were going well in a fight, this was all well and fine but scare a man, disrupt his concentration, and he could no longer muster the will to fight, then he was just as vulnerable as any other. Perhaps worse so, as all his skill was based on what he could do with his aura.

The weak point of an army was always their order of battle and morale. And when jaune had killed adam, it had broken them, they could have rallied, but luckily one brave warrior by the name of Lie Ren had rushed forward, seizing the initiative, and as a result, inspiring all the men behind him to push forward as well.

Lie Ren had won this battle just as much as he did.

But adam had committed everything to this battle and lost everything. The knightly system was high risk, high reward, with no real way of knowing how the results would turn out.

The huntsman system didn’t have this problem. It was decentralized, meaning you couldn’t kill a general to break the enemy’s will. And the loss of a team of hunters meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Vale could lose again and again now and still have more to give.

The system was simply a higher reward for lesser risk. And so jaune was faced with the unenviable knowledge that he was the one to end the age of knights. And that he would be the last commander for the final battle.

The after-action report was straightforward. After all, he was only writing it for Oswald. And that was only so ruby would know he was alive before he showed up with the heads of his enemy. Perhaps vale would hate him for this as well, but he no longer cared what happened to that den of vipers.

Jaune had been stationed in the mountains that will henceforth be known as Adam’s peak. He had one-thousand levies from the local farms, poorly trained and equipped. And he had been engaged by the enemy army of the White Fang numbering six-thousand-eight hundred and thirty-eight. Being made up of the elite knights and veteran leadership of the white fang. Knowing that the wooden castle walls would do him no good, he had set his men on the steepest slope in a choke point. It would not have granted him victory, but it had bought him time and had set up the next stage of his strategy.

Adam had sought to capture him for a grand execution and had sent half his army to ensure that he did not escape. Jaune had gambled on the fact that he was a high priority of the enemy general and had run past the second army with his banner held high. Jaune was right in that the enemy was quick to pursue him. He then made a suicidal charge through the back lines of the enemy and slew Adam in a single blow. Therefore, the morale of his enemy and their aura shattered the rest had been a simple mop-up action to ensure they could not rally. With him personally hunting down and killing the enemy commanders as his men slaughtered the rest.

Having followed him, the second army was already exhausted from the chase and, with their auras weakened, could not run away fast enough, blocking the first armies escape and ruining any chance of organizing resistance as units ran through each other to get away, utterly destroying cohesion.

In total, the battle had taken him seven and a half minutes. In seven and a half minutes, Jaune Arc had shifted the direction of fate and history and had secured for himself the title that all would know him by for the rest of his life.

Sir Jaune Arc, The Just, The Butcher Of Anima.

And The Knight of Miracles

[tsukikoayanosuke]

ueee- Congrats on the milestone!! hehe can request Oc x Canon hsbhsbshbs-- With uh-- Jamil. 🤩 Romantic, angst to fluff pls i would like 🤲 thank uu // Her name is-- Aiennor, Diasomnia 2nd year, long pink hair with faded yellow tips and light pink eyes-- She has braids in her hair, and often wears lolita outfits, shes-- shy? to an extent, but sometimes shes loud, but overall very nice, her magic type is wind. Uee? Thats pretty much it~ You can dm me for more info~ i'll send a pic ueee

Angst to fluff, he~? Well, nothing says 'angst' better than your usual reincarnation au. Well, the angst part was very soft in this. I hope you don't mind. And I think I went a bit to overboard on this. ^^’

Now, I hope I portray Aeinnor well. Sorry if I made some mistake in her personality or characteristic.

Slightly inspired by Ai no Scenario by CHiCO with HoneyWorks. Not gonna lie, I always wanted to write this scenario

(This will be put under the 25000 Hits Celebration)

Heartbeat Scenario

It was a tale as old of time. A tale of forbidden love.

Once upon a time, there lived a boy who worked as the palace gardener named Jamari with hair and eyes as dark as the night sky. A talented young boy who must suppress his talents for a servant should never be better than the royal family they served. He couldn't protest or raise his voice. Which was why when a foreign prince came to court the princess, he didn't say a word to object.

Even knowing she was engaged, it didn't stop Gardener Boy Jamari to visit his best friend, the princess herself. He would climb the tree next to her bedroom window when it was open and the princess was seen doing her paperwork. They would exchange small talks and listen to her sing a small melody. These were the special moments where Jamari could be free to express himself through whispers and he loved every moment with her.

It didn't take long for him to find out about the unfair abuse the princess must suffer because of his daring acts. He would see the bastard prince glared at him through the closed window. It was a silent declaration from Jamari: "You dare to hurt her. I'll make you regret it."

~~~

It was a tale as old of time. A tale of forbidden love.

Once upon a time, there lived a young princess named Aira, with hair as beautiful as the cherry blossom petal and eyes in a light pink rose color. A kind princess maybe the most gentle. She would never hurt a fly or speak up for herself.  Which was why when a prince from the land across the sea named Tobias came and offered a hand in marriage, she didn't say no.

Even with her engagement, it didn't stop Princess Aira from hanging out with her best friend, the sweet gardener boy. She would come by the rose garden with a book in hand to chat with the boy while he was working, exchanging small talks and giggling from his jokes. These were the rare moments where Aira could come out from her shell and she loved every moment with him.

It didn't last forever for Prince Tobias soon knew about her meetings with the gardener boy. He didn't take it well and would slap her for being disloyal. Aira could only cry as he ordered, "Don't you dare meet that lowly peasant again!"

~~~

That night was a magical night for both of them.

When Princess Aira woke up from her light sleep, the wind blew into her room, the curtain danced along with the breeze. And crouching on the windowsill with the bright yellow moon shining behind him was Jamari.

"Just take my hand. I promise I'll protect you and never leave your side."

Thus, when Prince Tobias came to check on her, Aira was nowhere to be seen. The pair ran off into the night, laughing at their newfound freedom, never to be seen again.

~~~

"Wait!"

"E-Eh?!" The pink-haired girl's eyes were widened, almost terrified as her eyes glanced to her wrist that was being held by Jamil. "C-Can I help you?"

Jamil wanted to smack himself of how out of character he was acting. What was he thinking, going up to the Diasomnia girl who he had never spoken to before, only noticing her during their first year sorting ceremony?

Jamil gulped. "Sorry." He slowly took off the hand which she pulled her hand almost immediately, caressing her wrist close to her chest. "I think I have mistaken you as someone else."

"O-Oh." She ducked her head, blush dusted his cheeks. She stole glances at him, didn't know how to act. "S-Sorry."

"It's alright. We should start over." He stretched out his hand. "My name is Jamil."

The girl hesitated at first but she slowly reached for him. "I'm Aiennor." Her smile was gentle, her blush was adorable, and her cherry blossom hair brought something that made his heart beat faster for a foreign nostalgic feel.

~~~

"Hey, Aiennor. Did you know?"

"What?"

"I think we're fated to be together."

"What the heck, Toby!" Aiennor giggled. Her boyfriend Toby always says nonsense stuff like this, but Aiennor would always fell to his charm over and over again. They had been dating for a few weeks now, maybe almost a month, and the giddy feeling was still there for Aiennor.

The student in front of them turned toward him, glaring at the pair. "Can you be quiet for a moment?" he hissed, "Some of us here is trying to study."

"Oops~" Toby sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, Jamil." Aiennor meanwhile closed her mouth, ducking her red face because of embarrassment.

Jamil's eyes lingered at her a bit longer before he rolled his eyes and turned back to Mr. Trein. Aiennor felt quite bad really, especially when Jamil was the one who complained. That boy had been nothing but nice toward her.

~~~

Jamil always felt that the world had been conspiring to make his life worst.

It wasn't enough that he came from a family or servant, but he also had these cryptic dreams. Of a crying princess with cherry blossom hair, reaching for his hand. He never really took her hand for he didn't understand their meaning.

That was until Aiennor came and the princess' face became clearer. He had heard about soulmates whose soul kept being reincarnated but he never thought that it would happen to him as well.

~~~

Aiennor always felt that the world had been pushing her to a revelation.

She still questioning whether it was a great decision for her to study in Night Raven College or if she would fit in Diasomnia. During those times of doubt, she would dream. Of a gentle farm boy with night sky eyes, offering her a hand. She never really to his hand for she didn't understand their meaning.

That was until Jamil came and the farm boy's face became clearer. The tale of soulmates whose soul reincarnate is true, and she's one of the lucky soul. Is this a blessing or a curse?

~~~

History tends to repeat itself and it happened right now.

Jamil knew that Toby was the same bastard prince that abused the princess in his dreams. He knew his agenda of manipulating Aiennor to be his bitch. Oh, he wouldn't let him get off like that.

"You tricked her! I don't wanna see you anywhere near her, you got me?!"

That bastard just laughed. "Hey, she was the one that was dumb enough to believe me!"

It hurt Jamil when Aiennor came in Toby's defense. She trembling when facing him. "D-Don't hit him! G-Go away, you jerk!"

~~~

History tends to repeat itself and it happened right now.

Aiennor once again fell for the sweet talks of her boyfriends after his confrontation with Jamil. "Great Seven, are you okay?"

Toby smiled gently at her. "Yeah... You're so brave!" She went to a blushing mess and her heart fluttered. But something about Jamil's sad looks made her feel guilty.

It was only a few days later when she accidentally overheard Toby's talks to his friends. "I bet if I told her I loved her, she'd be like 'me too'!" He cackled. "That stupid bitch."

She ran away, crying. She had never felt so stupid in her entire life. Didn't this happen before in her dream/memories of her previous life? How could she fell to the same trick? Why did she accept that jerk proposal?

~~~

That day was a heartwarming afternoon for both of them.

Aiennor crashed into Jamil's chest but quickly recovered and stepped back. She kept sobbing. "You knew all along, didn't you? I'm sorry for calling you a jerk..."

But Jamil had already forgiven her. Thus, he stretched out his hand. "I told you I'd always protect you, didn't I?"

Aiennor let out a tearful, but happy chuckle. "What the heck?"

This time, their hand met.

~~~

The princess and the gardener boy were once again reunited in this life.

And may they always be reunited in this heartbeat scenario.

[eirist]

A Taste of Summer II

A TASTE OF SUMMER

One-shot #: 4

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: I did say I planned to finish the prompts from the ZoNami Week 2020 at zonamievents in Tumblr. This is Day 4: Lemons and Oranges. It took a long time since it’s been hectic in work these past months, I can only manage drabbles. I have a lot of work-in-progress stories waiting for me to finish them. Anyway, enjoy my better late than never one-shot.

Summary: The moment he stepped inside it, the fruits’ fragrances wafted towards him, surrounding him. Sweet. Citrusy.

The island was idyllic… quiet even. It feels like they were the only ones who are currently there.

Which turns out to be the case.

According to Robin—and the documents she unearthed from the enormous library of the island’s dazzling villa—it was once owned by a rich couple.

It was their own private paradise but they abandoned the place for a reason most could guess… they realized how susceptible they are—living on an island which was smack right into the path of sailing pirates.

What a waste. He wasn’t a fan of summer islands but Zoro had to admit, even he was awestruck with how divine the place is.

It was utterly exquisite and amazing.

The previous owners were fools to let such a gem go. It was the perfect getaway island. 

And all of his crewmates think so too. As they are spending another day docked there—exploring, relaxing and just taking everything in.

Heaven knows how the Straw Hats need a break from all that fighting.

Zoro left the others dilly-dallying in the villa’s patio overlooking the great view of the sea and the stone port with the Thousand Sunny docked beside it, bobbing idly above the blue water.

He strode towards a random direction despite protests from Usopp and the stupid cook that he will definitely get lost.

Damn them! He does not get lost. How many times do they have to go over this?!

Nami had done an ocular from the crow’s nest right after they had anchored. The island wasn’t that big, you can actually circle it in a day and a half.

How will he get lost in that? Idiots!

He grumpily trudged forward, following the graveled path that was leading away from the villa. He can hear Luffy's shouts of glee as Sanji announced a barbecue soiree some time later. 

Zoro shook his head. As much as the dumb cook hates to admit it, he'd been spoiling everyone rotten in this vacation of sorts... 

Not that he’s complaining. There is food. There is sake. He wasn't an ungrateful bastard after all.

The balmy breeze from the ocean swept across him, bringing in the salty smell of the sea. That, coupled with the warm temperature and the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore was enough to make him dozy.

Yawning widely, he decided to just look for a good place to nap instead of exploring the area like he initially meant to do. 

He'll do it later. Or tomorrow... as it seems like everyone was still willing to stay for one more day. 

The path he was following veered towards the left. He hesitated for a moment, his body unconsciously steering towards the opposite direction—one without a paved trail and bordered with thick foliage no one can pass through. 

He grunted and contemplated whether or not he would cut and make his own way... but he didn't want anyone nagging him about how not to destroy everything in front you.

Especially one loud-mouthed, orange-haired navigator. 

He doubts if he'd be able to take on her yapping from the way he was reacting to her as of late.

Running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, he sighed and did a double take. He didn’t realize that he was now near the villa’s wide back patio.

There were stone steps leading down to a garden below filled with trees and plants blooming with different summer fruits and flowers. A paved walkway snaked across the expanse of the area leading to a tunnel-shaped trellis with lemon and orange trees growing on them, providing shade to anyone who would dare walk into it. The branches were intertwined above, the fruits hanging like dozens of prized crystals on a chandelier—their alternating colors of orange and yellow among the green leaves were pleasing to look at.

Zoro grinned and made his way towards it. Would you look at that? He found a perfect place to nap.

The moment he stepped inside it, the fruits’ fragrances wafted towards him, surrounding him. 

Sweet. Citrusy.

Just like Nami.

He made a tch-ing sound. He was thinking about her. Again. 

Seems like he's been doing it a lot recently. A lot.

He couldn't understand it at first. It was all so foreign to him.

It had taken Zoro sometime before he figured out what was really happening. And it took an even longer period before he finally acknowledged it. 

When they finally faced each other after their two years separation... everything just came crashing down on him. 

She had greeted him with the warmest smile on her face as they ran into each other—both intending to take a break from the celebration party held at Fish-Man Island.  

In that moment... he just got lost in her. 

And Zoro didn't know if it was the same with her. Or if that is even possible with her. 

But he can clearly see now that it is. 

And that threw him off because he was honestly not expecting it. 

He scratched the back of his head in frustration. All this thinking is really making his head ache. Especially after the recent events where they both seem to find themselves in that specific moment before a kiss happens. 

Should it? 

Fate seems to be pointing to the fact that it should, given how the two of them always end up in the same situation every time they are near each other. 

He wasn't a firm believer of signs and such, but given the circumstances… it seems like it was really inevitable. 

And it's not like he didn't want to kiss her. He absolutely wants to. Even more now after the whole water gun spectacle and how their lips were so close… almost grazing each other’s right after they had resurfaced from the ocean with their eyes locked on each other’s.

They were interrupted by the idiot cook yelling threats and throwing one of the water guns at his head. 

Nami had moved away from him almost immediately. And the look she gave him had his curiosity piqued. 

It was the same one he saw on her face while they were hiding behind the makeshift shelter in the midst of the water gun battle—a cross between understanding and acceptance.

The slight thud of a fruit dropping near him broke his thoughts. He stared at the orange globe as it rolled a few centimeters away, surprised that it didn't explode from the height of the fall. 

He picked it up, toying with it for a moment, enjoying the firmness of it in his hand. He ran his thumb across its smooth surface. His lips quirked up. He always secretly enjoyed the fact that her hair was the same shade as this orange and her beloved mikans. 

Damn it to hell he's turning to that aho cook now.

He casually threw the fruit up in the air and caught it. He decided to throw those thoughts aside as well for now and enjoy this little snack before settling down for a nap. 

He proceeded to peel it and then did a double take again. 

He didn't notice it before, but the citrus tunnel was leading to another area. 

Zoro moved towards the end of it to check. His eyebrows rose and he marveled at the wide orchard of lemon and orange trees before him. It was smartly hidden from the view that you cannot see it from the villa, giving it a kind of a secret place ambiance.

A smile appeared on his face again as he took in the perfectly lined trees before him. There was an odd feeling of satisfaction at their alignment, at the interchanging colors of their fruits, their stark contrast against the swaying green leaves.

"Zoro?"

He dropped the orange he was holding.  

Damn he should have known the chances of running into her are high.

Really, really high.

He turned towards the direction of her voice. Nami was standing between the rows of orange and lemon trees, with one hand on her hips as she regarded him. 

“Are you my back-up?”

Zoro paused for a moment and cocked an eyebrow at her when he couldn't figure out what she meant by that. “Your what?”

Nami blew at her bangs in exaggerated exasperation. “I mean, are you here to help me?” She asked again, nudging one basket filled with fruits with her feet.

Zoro's eye hovered at the containers near her legs.

She's fruit-picking? Voluntarily??? 

But Nami had them for that. She can easily order every—and any—one of them to do it for her. 

Especially him or that stupid love cook.

Pigs must be flying somewhere on this island.

"What is that?" He definitely and dumbly had to ask that.

"Uh fruits?" Nami raised an eyebrow at him. "Specifically lemons and oranges... shall I introduce you to them? Feels like you still haven't made acquaintances of each other."

"Very funny witch," he growled. "And no I'm not your back-up."

A frown marred her features. "Then why are you here? Usopp didn't send you? I specifically ask him to send someone to help me!"

Zoro gave her an unamused look. "Like he can order me around."

"Hmm true but…" She tapped a finger to her cheek, pondering. Then she waved her hand dismissively. "Well since you are here, I guess I'll have to make use of you somehow."

"No thanks. I need to nap now."

She gaped at him. "Seriously Zoro? Are you a kid? How many naps do you need per day?!"

He just shrugged. Sure, they may be on the verge of acting on the attraction that they had for each other and kiss somehow in the near future...

But damn if he will obey her just like that. 

He wasn't ero-cook after all. 

"Tell you what, I'll just go and tell your stupid cook to help you out."

"But you’re already here..." Nami pointed out, her tone turning a bit whiny. "Besides you will just get lost and never make it to Sanji-kun or back to me!"

"Oi!"

“Just help me out Zoro.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t carry them by myself!”

“Just drag them or something. I’m not your pack-mule.”

“What’s the use of those stupid arms you tone every day? For display only?!” Nami hissed at him.

Zoro threw her a smirk, fighting the urge to flex just to irritate her more. “Yes.”

“Zoro!”

"It's your damn fault for trying to do this by yourself," the green-haired man grunted. Honestly, why didn't she ask him or anyone else in their crew to accompany her?

But him… especially. 

Damn that dumbass cook is contagious!

Maybe she needed to be alone with her thoughts as well just like you. A tiny, eety, beety voice that sounded a lot like Chopper reminded him. 

Nami stared at him surprised. "You mean, I should've asked you to come with me earlier?"

That snapped him into attention as his ears turned red. "That's not what I meant!"

"But you said I should've asked you," she repeated.

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

The navigator pouted. “Well I’m pretty sure you were insinuating that.”

“Temee…”

"Anyway, you were napping. Thought it'd be better not to wake you up."

There was never a time in their lives that she was this considerate of him. Regardless of how deep he was sleeping, Nami will most definitely wake him up just to order him to do something. 

Her mischievous smile had his guard up. 

Cheeky witch!

“I’m heading back,” he grumbled. “I’ll go tell your idiot prince that you need help.”

“Zoro!”

He ignored her screech and turned away from her.

The less time he spends with her... the better. It lowers the chance of them finally kissing until it blows over and they completely forgot it even have a chance to occur.

Because honestly, he doesn't know what to do after it. Or what will happen after it. 

That is something he still doesn't know the answer as of yet. 

“Why you…” Nami seethed as he started walking away. He was really grating every single nerve in her body with his no-nonsense attitude, even after everything that happened these past weeks.  

She grabbed a lemon from the basket and threw it at him. Hard. Channeling all the bottled up frustrations in her on that action.

"Take that you idiot!”

It hit him on the back, putting a stop to his stride.

Nami seized another fruit and threw it again… this time hitting the stupid, lazy man on his head.

Zoro growled lowly when he saw the yellow fruits bounced down the ground after hitting him.

“Nami!” He shouted, pivoting sharply towards her…

…and promptly got hit on the side of his face, this time with an overripe orange.

The fruit splattered on contact, its juices dripping down his face and neck.

His jaw clenched as his eyes settled on a cheekily smiling Nami who had another fruit in her hand, throwing it up on the air and catching it.

And he knows, damn he knows this is her payback for ignoring her request and for his stunt a few days ago…

…and for hesitating to kiss her and acknowledging what was between them... all rolled into one.

She moved swiftly and threw the orange in her hand again.

This time he effortlessly caught it, before a sneer appeared on his face.

He crushed the fruit in his grip and threw it back at her.

Nami yelped as she tried to get away in time, but the fruit remains still caught her and splattered on her chest and face. In a split second, he had another fruit in his grasp, crushing and throwing it at her again.

She squealed when she saw him broke into a run, heading towards her looking like he was going to tackle her down the ground.

She immediately turned, but not before throwing two random fruits at him and ran, dodging the trees that lined the orchard as fast as her feet will take her. She randomly changed directions, running towards the left then switching to the right…

Knowing Zoro’s ability to get lost in a straight line, she’d be able to throw him off the chase.

Her lungs were burning, her breaths coming out in gasps. Her hair whipped wildly behind her as the ribbon she had tied on loosened and was blown away by the wind.

She should feel threatened, afraid somehow. She doesn’t know what Zoro has in store for her once he caught her.

But she was laughing.

She circled a random tree, trying to catch her breath. Carefully she peered back at the direction where she came from. The swordsman was nowhere to be seen.

It was all so crazy. Crazy yet fun. She ran a hand through her now tousled locks. The ribbon she had on earlier must’ve fallen away when she dashed along the orchard.

Oh she will make him pay for this of course. This is his fault anyway. He was the one who started chasing her.

The smell of the fruits filled her nose. She pouted a bit at the stickiness of the juices clinging in her skin and sundress. Yet, the scents brought comfort to her and she let herself relax for a moment. Zoro was probably on the other side of the orchard, given how he always ends up on the opposite of where he’s supposed to go.

Trust him to really get lost in a straight line.

It was silent now, except for her heavy breaths and the sound of the sea. The wind started to pick up from the ocean, blowing lightly along the expanse of the citrus orchard. Citrusy scent filled the air, reminding her of that it is summer.

The breeze tousled her long, orange curls and she closed her eyes as it blew stronger.

Almost immediately it stopped. At the same time a shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun and the wind as well.

“Found ya.”

Her eyes flew open in surprise. Zoro was now in front of her, grinning roguishly. She honestly thought she lost him in the maze of orange and lemon trees with all the twist and turns that she made.

On instinct, she automatically moved to ran away again. But Zoro caged her in his arms preventing her escape.

“Oh no you don’t.”

She squealed in protest when his hands—still sticky from the fruits—held her by the arms.

Nami tilted her head and laughed. There were remnants of the lemons and oranges she threw at him earlier sticking on his face and shirt.

Still chortling, she reached out to wipe them off his face. He did the same for her, plucking some bits and pieces from her hair.

They were standing so close to each other now—a sticky mess with their breaths heaving and intermingling with each other’s.

Her hands found themselves resting flat on his chest while his had slid down to both of her elbows.

They were looking at each other, painfully aware that they are in that instant before a kiss again, waiting on who is brave enough to make the first move.

It was Nami who broke the moment first.

“Ok. Ok. I give up!” She snickered and grinned at the sheer childishness of what they had just done.

They were supposedly ruthless pirates, weren’t they?

“I’m charging you for all these Zoro.”

Zoro chuckled and released her. “How about I lug your baskets back as you want then we’ll just call it quits.”

“No.”

“Damn woman!”

“Oh no, no,” Nami shook her head as she forced herself to she step away from him. “You ruined a sundress, cost me a hair ribbon and I’m not even touching the fact that you threw fruits at me and chased me all throughout this orchard.”

“Oi! You were the one who did the throwing first!” The green-haired man retorted.

“Dame.” She poked a finger to his chest.

“Fine!” He said grouchily. But to her astonishment, he smiled at her. “Let’s head back.”

Nami nodded. “Yeah. I need a bath. I’ve been here for hours. Plus I feel sticky. No thanks to you.”

Zoro just threw her a smirk.

She followed him along the rows of citrus trees. It seems like now is still not the right time for them. There was still that hesitation… an uncertainty that lingers on the air between them, mostly from Zoro’s part.

And Nami had decided that she wouldn’t make the first move. She would wait for him. Because when he does… that means he is finally ready to deal with what’s between them and everything that comes with it.

For now she’ll just bask in these little, special moments with him.

The wind blew around them again, the citrus’ scents drifting up in the air once more. She was quite amazed that he was able to make his way back to where they had left the baskets of lemons and oranges.

Zoro was about to grab one, then he stopped.

Nami stared at him with a curious gaze. “Is there a problem?”

He looked back at her. With a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he shook his head. He had this expression on his face that clearly indicates he just realized something.

Taking a step closer to her, he watched her warm brown eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and excitement. 

"Zoro?"

The swords will dull if you do the opposite of what you really feel. 

Of course. He really is an idiot.

He bent down, finally claiming her lips with his. His arms went around her to pull her close so he could savor the feeling, the moment, the reality that he finally came to terms with what he really needed to do and what he wanted to do. 

She sighed softly and he felt the smile tugged at the corners of her lips as her own arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her and deepening their kiss. 

The essences of the fruits had found their way to her lips at their antics earlier. He savored the taste on her—the sweetness of the oranges, the tanginess of the lemons...

It was summer on her lips. 

And he was now addicted to it. 

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Dawn (2)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: sleep is nice. Water is super nice. music is dope nice. weather is siren-like nice. not being able to meet my dogs? not nice.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Is it really necessary to do this? All of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous.

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session. 

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!

Well, TOO LATE! you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

You didn't have to defend him like that.

You try to shove your inner voice away.

What do you even know about him?

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

What is Odin going to do to you now?

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

Perfect.

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

Oh, screw it.

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

Good for her , he wonders, taking his armour off, there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied.

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

Why did she defend me in front of Odin?

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues.

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

.

Why does he have so many greens and blacks?

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. Wait, is he colourblind?

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

Fuck!

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. What is he thinking? That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. Wasn't he supposed to be...frail? At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

You won a lottery, woman , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather? Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. You IDIOT!!

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

MOTHERF-

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"

[nctnight]

(yuta!tokyo ghoul part three) < part one < part two - part 3.5 > part four >

03:37am

(a/n): tried to make this one a bit longer. hope you enjoy!! last part will be up by the end of this week, hopefully. tell me what you think ;)

your last weeks hanging out with Yuta were the best of your whole college years so far. he introduced you to his close friends Taeyong and Jaehyun and you started hanging out with them more frequently; attending their gatherings at Jaehyun's massive apartment and studying for finals with Taeyong was a part of your weekly schedule.

you had become especially close with Taeyong. he was a little like you in a way, he understood your loneliness. Jaehyun was more distant: he hung out with some heavily tattooed dudes who intimidated the living hell out of you. Yuta was always trying to convince you that they were actually nice and not intimidating at all, but there was something about them that you couldn’t understand. 

but you changed your mind quickly when you saw Ten, one of these guys, leaving the art department with pink and lilac ink splattered all over his apron and hair. he was chasing a cat with pink paint all over their fur. you tried helping him out and ended up with dirty clothes yourself and when you asked him what happened he gave you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “the window to the studio was open and she fell on my palette. she got scared and stumbled over the paint cans, but I’ll clean her up!”

he walked away cooing the cat on his arms and suddenly the piercings and tattoos didn’t seem so intimidating. when you told Yuta what had happened, he laughed so hard that you got scared he’d choke and pass out. “I told you, love,” he said, elbowing you in the ribs. “my friends are really cool, huh? you’ll be stealing them away from me in no time.”

you rolled your eyes and took a sip of your strawberry milkshake. he had texted you earlier that night and asked if you could hang out. you bought a milkshake for yourself while Yuta opted for a cup of black coffee and you decided to take a walk around one of the city’s busiest districts. the air smelled of fried food and something else familiar that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. even though it was so late, there were many people still walking around, enjoying the night clubs and bars. you sighed with delight. 

it was one of the happiest moments in your life. you tried not to think of the bad scenarios that could ruin this moment. fate had a way of mocking you whenever you felt safe and content and you knew that something unpleasant was lurking around the corner, ready to smack you in the face.

it was true that you were getting fond of some of Yuta’s friends but when he asked if you'd like to attend one of their parties the following week, you felt uneasy. it had been years since you last attended a party and you grew to despise them. you hated drinking, smoking, dancing and mingling so why should you go to one?

"maybe you'll enjoy hanging out with us," Yuta said, digging his hands in his pockets. "besides that, I like being with you. sometimes I think you're the only one who doesn't drive me insane." he chuckled dryly, the breeze tangling his white locks.

"that's not true! if anything, you're the one that keeps me sane," you argued, furrowing your brows. your gaze softened as you remember how you befriended the silver haired boy. "I had no one before you."

Yuta gave you a soft smile. "if your classmates didn't want to be your friends, then they are dumb," he said matter-of-factly. "you are one of the bravest people I've ever met."

a light shade of pink dusted your cheeks under Yuta's intense eyes. the words are lost in your mouth so you decided to stay in silence and enjoy your little moment together.

your first disagreement with Yuta happened two days before the party. you still hadn't decided if you wanted to go, but just the fact that you were considering this insane idea was already a miracle.

Yuta was in one of his breaks at the coffee and murmurs and it was a relatively quiet afternoon, so you had more time to hang out than usual. you started talking about something you had seen on the news, how a government agency was holding a ghoul captive and torturing them. for some reason, you felt comfortable enough with Yuta to talk about those things.

"this is the cruelest thing a human being can do," you said, trying to keep your composure. you were relatively passionate about politics and tended to get carried away with your ideals. "to hold someone captive, strip their freedom away, treat them like a soulless creature! that's unacceptable!"

you noticed there was something wrong with your silver haired friend when you stopped talking. the silent that proceeded was different than any other. it was thick with tension and warm with revulsion. Yuta's eyes were morbidly serious when he replied. "they are soulless creatures, y/n. you should learn that, for your own good." he looked away, his shoulders tensed. you could see a faint hint of disgust in his eyes. you froze. you didn't want to argue with your only friend, but you'd never give up your ideals to make someone else comfortable. "don't trust ghouls, love. they are not humans like you, they are demons... monsters."

he stood up and walked away, leaving you with the taste of bile on your mouth.

"he'll come around soon enough," Taeyong told you that evening through the phone. "he's just too volatile sometimes."

you hummed in response, still caught up in your own paranoia, worried that Yuta would never talk to you again. "I-I just can't understand why he was so upset." you didn’t explain to Taeyong what the discussion was about, you didn’t need another friend running away thinking that you were a mad person, nevertheless Taeyong tried to ease your thoughts. 

“Yuta really likes you, y/n,” he said. “he won’t give you up because of some silly discussion like that.”

after an hour or so you hung up. your mind was too occupied with him. truly, you still had romantic feelings for him, but having him in your life was better than nothing. you grabbed your phone and stared at the open chat room with Yuta.

[11:32 PM] y/n: hey, Yuta~

[11:32 PM] y/n: i know this will sound lame but i kinda miss you…

you gulped, staring at the screen. yeah, you just admitted you missed him. great. 

[11:35 PM] y/n: i’m sorry that our argument happened, but i won’t apologize for the way i think. but i truly do miss you :(

you buried your head on your pillow, whimpering in frustration. you sent him one last text before going to sleep.

[03:37 AM] y/n: i will see you at the party tomorrow, okay? pls be there

as you got ready for the party that evening, Taeyong was bombarding you with texts. you ignored them all, focusing on your task: making all those hours of watching makeup and cosplay tutorials worth the wasted time. you had already chosen an outfit, something black and basic. you adorned your neck and ears with silver jewelry and added a fake septum piercing to your nose.

[10:57 PM] taeyongie: y/n!!!!! please show me your outfit, you lil imbecile creature!!!! i’m supposed to be that friend that helps you impress the boy you like!!!!!

you rolled your eyes, reading thousands of texts like the last one. in the back of your mind, you tried to figure out how your encounter with Yuta will be. Taeyong assured you he’d make his friend be there so you guys could reconcile. you hadn’t admitted to Taeyong or to anyone that you liked Yuta, but it was written all over your face whenever he was around.

[11:03 PM]: y/n: i’m ready1! will you pick me up pls :)

after half an hour of playing a random game on your console, a knock comes from the door. you open, revealing a godlike Taeyong. you two gasp at the same time. “you look so handsome!” you squealed, admiring his fancy jacket and shoes.

“if Yuta doesn’t kiss you tonight, I will." Taeyong smirked, his eyes fell on yours, a hint of mischief lighting them up.

you rolled your eyes and locked your arms with his, ready to leave. to say you felt nervous was an understatement. butterflies soared in your stomach, your palms were sweating like a harlot in church and your thoughts were all over the place. you were glad you chose not to wear platforms or heels because you'd definitely fall on your face. 

you and Taeyong took a taxi to where the party was happening. apparently, it was hosted by Jaehyun and some other rich students you had never met. 

on the way there, you fidgeted in your place and checked your phone every five minutes, hoping that Yuta would text or call. but your friend remained silent. 

the building looked like a normal club from the outside, but as you got through the security and through the crowd, Taeyong closely behind you so you didn't get lost, your jaw dropped. not just because the people there looked like supernatural models, or because their black clothes may have costed more than what you spend in a year, but because Yuta was the first thing you saw. 

the room was dimly lit, only a few blue lights illuminated the area, but you could recognize him anywhere. you tightened your grip on Taeyong's arm, the boy offered you a reassuring smile. "go talk to him," he whispered in your ear, trying to overcome the loud music. 

Yuta hadn't seen you yet. he was at the bar, a dark drink on his hand, talking to Jaehyun with a small grin on his face. his hair was tightened in a small ponytail on the back of his head, he wore a black jacket, jeans and shirt.

you made your way towards him with hesitant steps. Jaehyun saw you first. he smiled towards you, offering a polite handwave. 

when Yuta's eyes finally landed on you, you could feel your stomach drop. his eyes didn't show any indication of an emotion. they were blank, as if you were a stranger. you tried to keep a smile on your face, but your eyes started to water and you wanted to look anywhere else but into his eyes. “how are you liking the party, y/n?” Jaehyun greeted, unaware of his friend’s coldness.

“it’s g-great!” you responded, wrapping an arm around your torso. your own skin started to bother you, as if it was made of broken glass. the whole situation was so uncomfortable, you felt like a fool for coming. “but I don’t think I’ll stay long… I just came to check up on Yuta. I’ll be gone soon.”

Jaehyun frowned, his eyes questioning Yuta in silence. you casted a last glance towards him. his eyes still blank. you marched away from the two boys, trying to calm your heart. you didn’t know if it was your own heart beating or the music echoing through your rib cage, and suddenly the whole atmosphere felt overwhelming. you tried to find Taeyong, to tell him you were feeling unwell, but your friend was nowhere to be seen. 

the song was too loud, there were too many people, the flashing lights were making you dizzy. you tried to find an empty corner or a place to sit down and fortunately, you bumped into an empty balcony outside. it was a clear night and once you were under the naked sky, you felt at peace. you sighed, taking a deep breath and rested your elbows on the parapet, your back to the door where you came through. your heart was calming down slowly, but you still felt awful. you couldn’t take his eyes off of your mind. 

“y/n?” 

your limbs froze and your heart picked up its rapid pace again. “are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?” you sighed, a stray tear falling from your eyes.

he chuckled, you heard his steps approaching you. he paused for a few seconds and you still refused to look into his eyes… you were sure he’d see your infatuation if he looked close enough. “I’m sorry for being so cold, love,” Yuta said in a low tone. he couldn’t be further than a couple of feet. “I… I had my reasons and you don’t have to understand them.”

you finally turned around, your eyes instantly locking on his. “why did you do it then? explain your reasons.” you had to gather all of your self worth and self preservation not to drool. he was looking like a true god, dressed to kill. 

“I have no right to ask you this… but if I show you, will you promise not to run away?”

you frowned. the hairs on your neck stood up, a knot formed on your throat “w-what do y...you mean?” 

Yuta sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “it’s hard to say it out loud. I want to tell you, but I don’t know if I can do it tonight, like this,” he scratched the back of his neck, his eyes landing on you. a shiver ran down your spine as he took a few steps closer towards you. “I promise to tell you when I feel comfortable enough… but in the meantime, I can give you something else.”

your frown deepened. “Yuta, please, can you be direct for once?”

he grinned, closing the gap between you two with slow steps. his movements were so relaxed and gentle, you felt the agony of desire building up on your stomach. Yuta’s hand touched your neck, his fingers caressing the soft skin. you didn’t dare to move.

when his lips finally landed on yours, it embodied everything he was: calm, gentle and delicate. he smelled of cologne and sweat, his lips tasted like coffee. you felt as if you were inside a dream and couldn’t help but smile between the kisses. he bit your lower lip, drawing a bit of blood.

when he finally detached his lips from yours, he was frowning, his gaze lowered, his breathing heavy. you tilted your head, trying to take a look at him. was your kissing bad? 

“Yuta?” you whispered, your fingertips touching his cheek. there were tiny dark striations on the corner of his eyes, like veins. you gulped, knowing what you’d see if he looked up. “can you look at me, please?” you didn’t know how your voice didn’t tremble, or how your hand wasn’t shaking.

he looked up, your breath was caught in your throat. his eyes were the normal dark brown ones you had been in love with for the past months, the striations were gone. you sighed. was it your imagination?

Yuta smiled, his hand caressed your cheek. “will you go on a date with me, love?”

you rolled your eyes, nodding excitedly.

[coyotescribbles]

Title: L’Ours et L’Loup Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5,143

He'd been a dragonslayer, once, fierce and skillful and widely-reknowned. Many had envied his prowess, and many, many more had paid him handsomely for exercising it.

Those days were behind him, now; he'd retired, rather than continuing to press his luck.

Now, Jorge lived a quiet, private life, raising goats and chickens and living off of the significant amount of money he'd banked over the course of his youth. It was a good life, even if he still sometimes felt that old adventurer's itch act up from time to time - the memory of dragon fire and the stench of molten metal and burnt flesh was enough to staunch it.

Peace and quiet.

At least, that particular day had started off quietly enough. He'd seen to his goats and scattered some grain for the hens before heading back inside for his own breakfast. His kettle was boiling, bacon was sizzling in the pan, birds were winging outside the window as a cool morning breeze wafted in, the goats were screaming...

...the goats were screaming.

Before he could even sit down to enjoy his meal, Jorge found himself storming back outside to see what the hell was going on.

And, smack in the middle of the goat pen, with a fat doe in its jaws, was the biggest goddamn wolf he'd ever seen.

-----

Hungry.

It was the first and foremost thought in her mind, and had been for some time now. Ever since she'd fled the sorcerer's tower, she'd had to scrounge for what little food she could find.

After all, she'd been taught how to kill, not how to hunt. And without her pack...

Grief lanced through the hunger for one brief, bright moment, and Jeanette whimpered to herself. How long had it been? She'd lost track of the days so quickly. She was certain that it had been more than a fortnight, but they'd all bled into one another once the panic had subsided and the anxiety and hunger had set in in its place.

She'd sated the latter as best as she could with kitchen scraps pilfered after nightfall, what few small animals she could catch, or a stolen chicken here or there. The deer were too quick even for her, their senses too keen, and she was too easily-worn down now to bother with them, anyway. She didn't even think she had the energy to shift back to her human form at this point...

She'd smelled the goats - and the chickens, and the cooking food - long before she'd seen the homestead. It had proven too tempting to resist, and she'd followed the scent for an hour before finding the source. The chickens she saw when she arrived would have been an easy meal, scattered about the yard as they were, but she was hungry, and the goats were much bigger, fatter, and penned in. The farmer, however, was out and about so in spite of her hunger, Jeanette had laid down in the bushes at the edge of the forest and watched for a while, until the farmer had finished his morning chores and gone back inside.

Then she'd slinked closer, watching the house more than she watched the goat pen, and when she was sure she had a window of opportunity, she'd leapt the tall fence, scrambled after the milling beasts until she'd grabbed the neck of the fattest one in her jaws-

The slamming of a door alerted her to the fact that she'd been caught, and she looked up - the bleating goat still hanging from her hungry mouth - just in time to see a literal giant of a man barreling towards her.

-----

Jorge didn't think when he saw the beast, he just reacted; he'd never had a wolf steal one of his kids before, and he would be damned if he was going to let this be the first. He'd been expecting a fight - after all, hungry wolves rarely abandoned a kill easily - but what happened next caught him off-guard.

The moment he'd thrown the gate open and stepped inside the pen, the wolf dropped the goat and bolted, making a beeline for the open escape route. It would have barreled right over him, too, if he hadn't reflexively reached out and sunk his near hand into its ruff, hauling it off its feet as easily as if it were a pup and throwing it back into the pen. But before he could pin the beast and draw his knife for the kill, it had regained its footing and leapt over the six-foot fence from a standstill like it was nothing.

"Oh, no, you don't-!" He couldn't just let it go, it had figured out where the food was, and if he didn't kill it now, it would come back again and again until he did, so he gave chase.

The wolf was quick, but he was, too - surprisingly so, for his age and size. He caught it again near the barn, seizing it by the tail and dragging it back; its sharp yelp of pain tugged at his heart, but he couldn't let it get away. Lunging forward, he caught it by the scruff once more and hauled it up, preparing to break its neck...

But something about the wolf's behavior made him pause before he could.

It was struggling, squirming and thrashing in his arms and snarling in fury and distress... he would have expected it to at least try to bite him. But it didn't.

He could feel its ribs and spine plainly now, too, even through its coat. It was starving, and yet it had abandoned an easy kill and was refraining from sinking its fangs into him.

Cursing himself, Jorge wrestled with the beast as he made his way to the barn door. Once there, he gave it a heave and, before it could get back up and run again, he hauled the heavy door shut and slammed the bolt into place - mere moments before it shook and rattled from the force of being hit from the other side. Safely locked up inside the empty building, the wolf could do no harm, and he could take the time to collect his thoughts and assess the situation.

-----

Jeanette hit the packed dirt hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, and felt a burst of sharp pain in her shoulder where she'd landed. She ignored the pain, though, as she scrambled to her feet and ran for the door.

Only to have to slammed in her face.

She managed to turn at the last possible moment, slamming her good shoulder into it at full momentum. The door shook on its hinges, but it held, much to her great frustration. Snarling and whining, she pawed desperately at the heavy barrier, but it would not budge; on the other side, she could hear the heavy footsteps of the man as he retreated, and fresh panic welled up in her chest. He could be going to get a weapon, something he could use to finish her off - she had to get out, and quickly... but how?

The barn was small and sturdily-built, with only one door, two stalls - or, rather, one stall and one roost - and a minuscule hayloft above. She wasn't going to be able to dislodge any of the planks making up the walls, or dig under them through the hard-packed floor. But, perhaps...

Looking up, she examined the loft. Its ladder was constructed so that it hung parallel to the floor when not in use, and had to be pulled down with a hook in order to access the loft. No doubt this was to keep the goats out of the hay at night, but it wouldn't stop her. All she had to do was get up there, and then she could escape through the hatch and flee.

But getting up there would be the challenge: that was a good ten-foot jump, and with her injured shoulder she might not be able to pull herself up - or pull the ladder down, for that matter.

Gathering her haunches beneath her, Jeanette crouched low - and leapt.

She fell short, and hit the floor with a thud that jarred her aching shoulder. With a thin whine, she paced in a circle for a moment before trying again, this time giving herself a short running start. This time, she managed to get her forelegs over the edge, scrabbling and kicking at the bottom of the loft with her hind legs to try to propel herself over the edge before she fell again.

She failed in that.

Her claws dragged across the wood as she slipped and fell back to the floor, sending a fresh burst of agony through her shoulder and leaving her panting in a heap in the dirt and straw. For just a moment, she thought about trying to transform, so she could pull down the ladder, but when she actually tried the effort only left her feeling sick, dizzy, and even more drained than she'd been before.

So this was it. She'd escaped being the sorcerer's captive war dog only to meet her end, starving and exhausted, at the hands of a goat farmer.

For a long time, nothing happened. Quiet had settled outside once more as the chaos-induced panic had subsided. She didn't stir from where she'd fallen, only watched a ragged beam of dusty sunlight creep across the floor.

No sooner than she thought that it was taking the man an unusually long time to return to dispatch her, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and resigned herself to her fate.

-----

Jorge had spent the better part of the rest of that morning debating with himself.

The practical half of himself said that he should just kill the wolf and end the matter. The softer half, however, felt pity for the beast. It had been so terribly thin and fearful...

And he still didn't quite know what to think of its refusal to attack him.

Maybe it wasn't what it seemed - it was clearly habituated to humans in a way no proper wolf could ever be, and it was too big, too lanky, and when was the last time he'd seen a wolf so thoroughly black, or with blue eyes like that, anyway? No, it couldn't be a full-blooded wolf. Perhaps it was a half-breed - he'd heard of certain moneyed lords who had bred wolf bitches to wolfhounds to raise the resulting pups as fearsome guard dogs... and status symbols. Perhaps this was one of those, then, that had slipped its collar and run away. It wouldn't know how to hunt for itself, which would explain its sorry shape, and it would be drawn back to humans for food and companionship...

Well, there was only one way to be sure.

With a sigh of resignation, he'd returned to the kitchen to prepare another pot of porridge, into which he stirred a generous helping of diced ham, and another pan of bacon. Then, once the pot was cool enough to touch, he took a deep breath, gathered up the food, and headed back outside to the barn.

It was tricky to juggle the pot, the plate, and the heavy bolt, but in the end he managed, and opened the door just far enough to slip through. He needn't have worried, though; the wolf, while still there, simply lay in the middle of the aisle and didn't move at his appearance except to pin its ears back and utter a weak warning growl.

Jorge cautiously took a few steps closer, and it raised its head slightly, baring its teeth.

"Hey now, it's all right," he said, his voice low and soothing; "I ain't gonna hurt you..."

Another few steps, close enough now to set the pot of porridge within easy reach of the beast; it mustered up a fiercer snarl, tensing up and snapping its jaws in his direction, but he could see now that it was all for show. If it had wanted to attack him, it had had ample opportunity to do so... but he slowly backed away, regardless, not wanting to antagonize it.

Crouching down beside the door, he made himself smaller, less threatening, and just watched the wolf in the dim light of the barn.

It watched him, too, with those eerily keen blue eyes, a constant growl rumbling in its throat. But its gaze flickered between him and the porridge just a few handspans from its nose. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought it was questioning him.

"Go on, you can eat it." He almost felt ridiculous talking to a wolf, but was it honestly any more ridiculous than talking to his goats? Or the hens? Even if it couldn't understand his words, he figured his tone might convey that it was safe.

And it seemed to work; after a few long, uncertain minutes, the wolf inched closer to the pot, stretching its neck out to sniff at the contents. Then, painfully slowly, it rose to its feet - now, Jorge could see it favoring its left front leg, and he felt a pang of guilt - and licked cautiously at the porridge.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the wolf's attention was entirely on the food as it hungrily bolted it down by the mouthful, finally licking the pot clean before rolling it onto its side and letting out a disappointed-sounding whine when it realized the porridge was entirely gone.

"Hey," Jorge clicked his tongue twice to get its attention; almost immediately, the wolf skittered away, darting into the goat stall to hide. It peered around the corner a moment later, ears back and baring its teeth again in a snarl that was even more halfhearted than the first. He was hardly fazed now.

"Hey now, I know you don't mean that," he said, picking a piece of bacon up off the plate and holding it out. "There's more, if you want it."

It just stared at him, then licked at its muzzle and laid down on its belly in the straw, resting its head on one curled-up leg. Jorge gave a slight shrug, and tossed the strip of bacon to it. watching as it landed near the wolf's muzzle, to be snapped up only a split second later.

Now it watched him even more intently, ears perking up as he held out another piece.

"See?" He coaxed, "it's food."

It took several minutes, but finally he was able to coax the wolf out of its hiding spot and closer to him - closer to the moment of truth he was seeking. Slowly, so very slowly, he drew it closer, until he was able to get it to take the bacon from his hand. It did so so gingerly that he was sure that this was no wild animal, it had to have belonged to someone before turning up in his goat pen.

Jorge held out the last piece of bacon, letting the wolf take it from his hand before slowly reaching out to rub its ears. It flinched away at first... but, notably, it didn't growl this time.

"There, see... you're no killer, are ya?" He said softly, burying his hand in the wolf's - dog's? wolf-dog's? - ruff to give its neck a scratch. This time, it leaned into the gesture with a low whine, its tail thumping weakly against the floor. "You're just lost 'n hungry, huh?"

It huffed softly, as if in reply, as it sank back down onto its belly, looking up at him with an almost pleading expression. It absolutely broke his heart.

"Well, you don't gotta worry now, you ain't lost anymore..."

-----

She'd been expecting him to kill her.

But he'd fed her.

And spoken so softly to her. And touched her so gently.

No one had ever treated her like that.

To the sorcerer, Jeanette and her pack had been tools, given the most basic upkeep and otherwise used mercilessly until they broke - or were broken by the madman himself. Their lot had been cold stone cells, cold meager rations, and ample servings of violence and the most twisted of magics.

To everyone else, she was a marauding beast, chased away with thrown rocks or sticks or even arrows whenever she was spotted.

No one had ever spared her a kind word or extended a gentle hand. Not after her mother's murder. Not until now.

It twisted something painful in her heart, and relieved it all at once.

And when he'd said "you ain't lost anymore"...

She wanted to be happy. Oh, she wanted so badly to be happy, to entertain the notion that she'd stumbled into a home - something she only dimly remembered from her very early childhood, something part of her had always ached to have again - but fear kept her from it. Fear that it was a ruse. Fear that it wasn't, but that if she revealed what she really was to him, that he would push her away, or worse.

She'd lived so long as a weapon, though... it wasn't really so much of a stretch to imagine living a while longer as a guardian, or even just a companion, was it...? It would be a quiet life. A peaceful life. She could be useful and safe and content, and he never needed to know her terrible secret.

So she'd closed her eyes with a heavy sigh and let him scratch behind her ears, murmuring soothingly - and, in spite of herself, in spite of her reluctance towards and fear of happiness... her tail thumped a soft rhythm against the hard dirt.

And when he inevitably rose to his feet to leave the barn, she got up, too, whining and grumbling softly to follow him.

The man looked down at her curiously, then shook his head and patted her back. "Well... I s'pose so. But if you get snappy again..."

Of course, Jeanette didn't have to be warned twice, and now that she had a full stomach she was on her best behavior, following at his heels, tongue lolling and tail drooping in relaxation despite her obvious limp. She could tell that he was watching her from the corner of his eye, alert to any sign of ill intentions, but he needn't have worried. She was calmer now than she'd been in weeks. She didn't even spare the chickens a passing glance.

And all it had taken was a warm meal and a little kindness.

He hesitated at the door to the house, looking back down at her once more, and she merely sat beside him, cocking her head to return the look with another soft whine... and he smiled slightly and shook his head, pushing the door open and letting her follow him inside. She indulged in a quick look around, sniffing about the kitchen and living room while he vanished through another door, returning moments later with a thick woolen blanket that he arranged in a sort of nest beside the fireplace; Jeanette looked at it curiously, then looked up at him in a silent question: What is this?

He gestured to it. "Go on, uh, lie down?" He said, not quite sounding sure of the command - but it clicked in her mind that this was for her. Another unexpected act of kindness.

Tentatively, she stepped onto the blanket, feeling her paws sink into the thick, soft material as she turned in a cautious circle. The rest of her followed suit a moment later; even as big as she was, the blanket nest felt like it could almost swallow her up. It was soft, and warm, and she couldn't remember ever feeling anything so wonderful.

With a long sigh, she sank down and closed her eyes, her ears drooping to the sides as she did.

"You just rest now, little one," the man murmured, briefly kneeling down to gently tousle her ruff before straightening up again. "Now, I gotta go outside for a bit, give the critters their lunch. You stay."

She didn't have to be told twice.

-----

It was so, so easy to settle in to the life she'd inadvertently blundered into.

The man had been cautious with her for the first few days, running through every "command" he could think of, and she played the part of a dutiful and well-trained pet perfectly.

Well... maybe not entirely perfectly. She allowed herself to "get distracted" or "pretend not to hear him" a few times, never in anything serious but enough to keep him from suspecting that she was anything more than what he thought she was. After all, even the best guard dog couldn't be perfect all of the time, right?

In the end, it was good enough. She slept by his hearth, she ate regular meals in his kitchen, she followed him about his daily routine. She healed, and grew sleeker and stronger than she'd ever been before. She guarded his home, even guarded his livestock - eventually.

She even let herself be happy, every now and then.

And once every week or so, in the darkest part of the night when the man was sound asleep, she would silently slip out, go to a spring hidden deep in the forest, and spend a few hours as a human again. She wasn't sure if she had to, but she also didn't want to risk getting stuck as a wolf, no matter how comfortable her life was. Besides, it felt nice to just soak in the cool water and the moonlight...

She would always be home again before the man awoke, and he never suspected a thing.

It was good, and quiet, and peaceful.

Summer passed, and so did the autumn; then winter came, and brought with it the cold and the snow... and the wolves.

Real wolves, born of wolves, not wolves crafted out of human flesh and sorcery. Wolves that came out from their dens in the deepest, darkest part of the forest where prey was scarce in the dead of winter. Wolves that, one day, found her home - and encountered her.

They'd come after the height of noon, just as the sun was beginning to wane. There were three of them, and their golden eyes were bright with hunger and excitement at the prospect of a feast of hen and goat.

But Jeanette, who had been watching the farmyard from the shelter of the barn, was not about to let them take even a single poult. Rising to her feet, she stepped into view - twice as big as the biggest of the three, tail and hackles raised and fangs bared in a snarl that carried across the yard. The wolves paused, ears down and heads low, their own teeth bared in uncertainty at this enormous beast that looked like a wolf and talked like a wolf and smelled like a wolf but also smelled disconcertingly like Man in a way that no mere dog could.

The leader of the trio broke the tense standoff by charging towards her, his tail flagging high as he opened snarling jaws with clear intent - and Jeanette met his charge head-on with a bellowing sound that was more of a roar than a bark.

He was big and strong, but he was also foolish to have charged ahead all alone; her jaws closed around his neck and clamped down with supernatural force. The lead wolf died with a pitiful yelp, and she promptly threw him aside to lie, limp, in the snow.

His companions were on her in the blink of an eye, dogging her flanks and snapping at her face. They were cleverer, never letting her get her fangs in them, darting in to bite before ducking away before she could retaliate. She knew she had to kill at least one of the two, and quickly, because even with her own great strength and skill she was only one, and they were two, and she only had so much blood to give.

It had only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity of dancing in the bloody snow before the door to the house crashed open and the man came rushing out. In his hand, he carried a great sword the likes of which she'd never seen, and over his shoulders he wore a thick bearskin cloak to ward off bites... and he was very nearly too late.

One of the interlopers had managed to get her jaws locked around Jeanette's throat. The latter's thick fur kept it from being a killing bite, but the former was doing her damnedest to inflict one, regardless. The other had torn open her shoulder and was now circling around them, looking for an opportunity to jump in and assist in the kill.

He died first, however, his head neatly severed with a single heavy blow from that shining sword.

The remaining wolf let go of Jeanette then, turning to face the man - and that was her last mistake.  Before he could strike the wild bitch down, Jeanette sank her teeth into her hindquarters and reared up on her own hind legs, flinging her over her shoulder and away from him. She landed hard and struggled to her feet, giving herself a shake before lunging for Jeanette once more, letting out an almost human-sounding shriek of rage and pain.

Her teeth lacerated Jeanette's face, narrowly missing her right eye - and Jeanette's jaws closed around her skull. Still shrieking, the wild wolf flailed at her face and neck and chest as she shook her violently.

There was an audible crunch as the interloper's neck broke, and she went limp in Jeanette's jaws.

Panting hard, she let the dead wolf fall to the ground, and turned her head to look at the man.

Her vision swam, and she staggered, briefly dropping to her elbows as she felt the toll of the fight weighing on her... then reality itself seemed to warp, panic burst in her chest, and an all-too-human sound escaped her...

-----

Jorge didn't know what to think.

Was he dreaming? Was this real?

One moment, his beloved Little One had been standing before him, bloodied but triumphant after killing two of the wolves that had attempted to raid his farm - and the next, she was gone, and in her place was a girl.

A human girl.

Or, at least, one that looked human.

His sword fell to the ground at his feet as he stared at the sight before him. She couldn't have possibly been older than sixteen, dressed in a wolf-skin tunic and bleeding from numerous open wounds. Short-cropped, mouse-brown hair framed her pale, sharp-featured face, and those keen blue eyes...

"What... are you..." he managed to choke out.

She didn't answer, only gasped out a ragged sob as tears welled up to roll down her cheeks - before lurching to her feet and bolting away, towards the forest. Jorge didn't waste time thinking it over, he simply snatched up his sword and ran after her. She was faster by far, but she was also bleeding, and he didn't have to outrun her to follow the trail she left behind in her blind flight.

Finding her was inevitable.

She'd managed to get a fair distance into the forest, and the sun was drawing near to the horizon by the time he caught up, spotting her collapsed at the brim of a spring that bubbled up from between the twisted roots of a towering oak. Her bright red blood stained the moss and snow, and formed a crimson cloud in the water where her arm lay. Her shoulders trembled from what he first thought must have been the cold, but he quickly realized that, no, she was weeping.

He could have killed her then and there - in his youth, he would have. But time and experience stayed his hand.

"Little One." His voice was quiet, but firm... and he felt a twinge in his heart at the way she cringed in on herself.

"...'m sorry..." the girl rasped out between sobs, not looking up to meet his gaze; "I'm so sorry..."

"What are you?" He repeated, struggling to keep his voice even. "Answer me."

"I am - I am what you see... this, and the wolf..." Her own voice wavered and cracked. "I am sorry..."

Every apology twisted a thorn in his chest.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to hate the girl. She seemed so young, and even as a wolf she'd been so sweet... and hadn't she just killed two wolves to protect him and his home? Even at great cost to herself?

"...why did you lie to me?" Jorge finally asked, as his initial anger subsided. There was no malice to his words, he only wanted to know why...

She drew back from him, dragging herself across the mossy ground to huddle against the base of the tree, as if it would protect her from his wrath.

"Because - because I was afraid," she finally whispered, her eyes fixed on the surface of the pool beside her; "....because you - you were so kind to me, even after I tried to steal from you... No one has ever been so kind to me, and I feared that - that if I showed you the truth - you would be afraid of me, or worse..."

She seemed to shrink in on herself, sobbing softly.

"Kill me... or leave me... it doesn't matter. I - I just... I am sorry..."

Once more, Jorge's sword fell to the ground. This time, though, he didn't bend down to retrieve it before approaching the girl. Instead, he unfastened the heavy bearskin he wore, and draped it across her trembling shoulders as he knelt down. Her slender fingers clutched the thick hide tightly, and surprise was evident on her face, but she still could not look him in the eye.

"What's your name, little one? Your real name?"

"...Jeanette..."

He reached out to smooth her tousled hair, and felt another twinge of pity in his heart when she flinched. No, he couldn't hurt her - she was just lost and frightened, the same as she'd been when he'd met her as a wolf. He wasn't sure he understood her, but that was fine, it would come with time.

"My name's Jorge," he replied softly. "It's all right, 'm not gonna hurt you, I promise..."

Slowly, carefully, he gathered her up, bundled snugly in the warm cloak. Jeanette was tense, at first, but quickly curled against his chest, still shaking, still sobbing quietly.

"I told you, you weren't lost anymore, 'n I meant it."

He left his sword where it had fallen as he started back towards the farm; he could always come back for it later, but right now he had something much more precious to worry about.

"C'mon, now... let's go home, 'n do things right this time..."