#steam has amusing idiots complain all the time

[eternalergo]

support your local pretty puppet. happy anniversary

[bearimba]

Kris (Pokemon Crystal/HGSS) Character Headcanons

And last but certainly not least, it's time for the third of the New Bark Town kids, Kris! (just to be clear btw, I kidnapped her from Crystal (the game) and threw her into HGSS because she deserves love too)

Anyways, here's my list of headcanons for her:

Her name is actually Crystal, she just goes by Kris because she likes it better (she spells it with a K because when they were kids, Ethan said it was "cooler" and she thought it was amusing so it stuck)

Her pokemon are Furret, Dunsparce, Slowpoke, and Tauros.

She's friends (tired older sibling vibes) with Ethan and Lyra, but because of her position as one of Elm's research assistants, she doesn't get to hang out with them nearly as much as they do with each other.

She's four years older than Lyra and Ethan more or less, making her about 20 by the time HGSS rolls around.

She's super chill most of the time but can be incredibly dry and sarcastic and sometimes brutally honest. Despite this she's genuinely and openly supportive of her loved ones a lot and would probably kill for them. Unfortunately for them, she's also not afraid to turn her fury on them too if necessary. Sometimes tough love is valid if your friends are risking their lives by being idiots :D

She's already been on her own journey when she was around 13-14, during which she managed to get most of the badges and dominated the Battle Tower (which has expanded into the Battle Frontier by the time HGSS rolls around. She likes to visit from time to time when she needs to blow off steam). She probably could've gotten all of the badges if she hadn't gotten bored of travelling.

She likes to battle “just for fun”

She takes over the lab from Elm, though it doesn't happen until he's basically forced to retire (the man loves his work, ok?). He still hangs around though especially since his home is literally on the second floor.

“oh haha looks like I won (again)! great battle tho :D don’t worry maybe you’ll get it next time <3 btw here's a comprehensive list of everything you could've done better” meanwhile the opponent’s team is absolutely decimated. dust in the wind. reduced to scorch marks on the ground

Where Lyra depends more on flexibility and Ethan just kinda does whatever during battles, Kris uses a lot more strategy. She's able to come up with plans on how to defeat an opponent team even if she's never seen their team before thanks to her extensive knowledge of pokemon. However! if her plans happen to get knocked off track, it's much easier to overpower her team.

She also specializes in evolution, but instead of focusing on breeding like he did, she's more interested in requirement-based evolution (like why some pokemon will remain in their first stage of evolution despite being old enough/having the experience to evolve. or why some pokemon need certain items to evolve. or why some pokemon evolve with trading. stuff like that. it's definitely a wide field but she enjoys the variety a lot).

She has this habit of flicking people's heads if she's annoyed with them. Light flick? she's being lighthearted. Painful flick? she's actually upset. Oftentimes she'll flick herself if she's particularly stumped on something, usually to do with her research.

She owns a bicycle her parents bought from Goldenrod and takes it absolutely everywhere---girl could probably ride across the entire region if she wanted to.

Her pokegear is horrendously outdated, and the screen is so cracked it's a miracle it still works. Regardless, she refuses to get a new one because "it turns on just fine."

She typically just wears whatever clothes are comfortable/convenient. She also mends all her clothing until it's unsalvageable and she's even made a couple pieces herself. For example, her white jacket is just a lab coat she cut short and upgraded. She tried to teach her friends but Ethan would start loudly complaining about being bored after two seconds and Lyra couldn't sit still long enough to learn anything past basic mending. Silver is the only one she's had any luck with, but even then it's far from his favorite activity (they'll still save their sewing projects until they can meet up and gossip together).

She has the worst handwriting known to mankind, but she still insists on scribbling everything down herself. It's like a rite of passage for every new researcher to try and decipher her notes well enough to transpose them into the lab's computer system.

Her love language is sending pictures to her friends. except. most of the time it'll be motion-blurred pics of random pokemon or the world's most incomprehensible memes

[gingerel]

“Idiot,” Kaoru says, annoyed but also amused. “You’re not twenty-one anymore.”

“Thirty isn’t old,” Kojiro insists. Yet just last month they’d found the first sprinkling of grey hair at his temple. 

Kojiro’s reaction that night showed the true depth of his vanity, but Kaoru refuses to risk his hair to try dying over them. Hiromi only made one teasing comment when Kojiro complained about it to him, while Ainosuke had called him Daddy and summarily got himself banned from Sia la luce for a fortnight. 

It’s not surprising this had happened, not when his father went from his first grey hair to completely so within the span of five years. With any luck Kaoru won’t have to deal with a husband who suffers the same fate. Not that it makes any odds to him. 

“No,” Kaoru agrees, sticking his hand into the bathwater to check Kojiro doesn’t have it too hot to be good for him. “But Reki and Langa are almost a decade younger than you.”

“Langa’s made of rubber,” Kojiro complains, wincing as he adjusts his position. “I can’t wait until they go back to college.”

“You miss them,” Kaoru reminds him. 

Kojiro huffs, slapping his palms down on the top of the water so it splashes up. None of it lands on Kaoru’s kimono, thankfully, so he survives the activity without harm. 

Kaoru straightens up and pulls his fingers through the unruly locks, curled slightly by the steam. He rubs his thumb specifically over where the greys grow mostly hidden and Kojiro stares mulishly up at him. 

“No more idiocy,” Kaoru murmurs. “You’re too big for me to carry home.”

“Don’t know I can promise that,” Kojiro admits. 

Kaoru shakes his head, knowing he can’t truly expect Kojiro to outgrow his desire to try new things, to push himself harder and further at every opportunity. Reki and Langa have only been back a day and here they are, nursing a pulled muscle in Kojiro’s back because he thought he could keep up with two twenty-one year olds fuelled by adrenaline and a free kilo of pasta. 

Indulgently he presses a kiss to Kojiro’s forehead, gives his hair one last pet and turns to leave him to his bath. A damp hand catches his wrist. 

“Where are you going?” 

Kaoru makes a halfhearted attempt to pull his hand free but Kojiro doesn't budge, just turns his expression more pleading, a little more pathetic. “Are you leaving me alone?” he ask.

“You’re soaking the muscles in your back, Kojiro,” Kaoru reminds him. 

“So.”

“Do you want me to just stand here and watch?” Kaoru asks him. 

Kojiro snorts. “Of course not.”

He tugs at Kaoru's wrist again, pouting harder so his bottom lip distends. 

“Me laying in your lap rather defeats the point,” Kaoru drawls. 

“I don’t see how,” Kojiros says. Kaoru sighs and his husband whines; “Please, Kaoru.”

Kaoru tells him it’s annoying when he does it, that his little puppy-dog eyes do nothing to Kaoru to change his mood or opinion.

“I’ll sit at the other end,” Kaoru offers and he honestly doesn’t know a better way to say I love you than offering to sit with the taps digging into his spine. Yet Kojiro tugs on his arm again, pitches his face so pathetically heartbroken that if something important were at stake Kaoru might genuinely think him in trouble of crying. 

“You’re a menace,” Kaoru mutters. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m in pain,” Kojiro corrects, giving Kaoru one last tug. “Come fix it.” 

Kaoru pulls his hand free and Kojiro lets him go this time; probably because he has some sixth sense that tells him Kaoru’s only doing so to start shedding the layers of his kimono. 

Finally he settles back, leaning against the slightly sloped edge with a contented sigh. Kaoru makes quick work of the silk as he can without leaving it in a crumpled mess that will be a nightmare to fix later. He undoes the loose ponytail laying over his shoulder and tries not to burn under the heat of Kojiro’s gaze as he stands there naked to pile all his hair atop his head in a messy bun. 

When Kaoru throws his leg over the side to step in at the other end Kojiro whines again, holding both his arms up in a clear indication to invite Kaoru in for a cuddle. 

“Kojiro,” Kaoru starts. 

“Please baby,” Kojiro begs. 

Kaoru sinks to his knees in the hot water, crawling between where Kojiro’s are parted, waiting for him. 

“Tell me if I’m causing you pain,” Kaoru insists, turning so he can settle as he usually does with his back to Kojiro’s chest. Water laps dangerously at the lip of the tub. 

Kojiro pulls him in tight, sighing as they align perfectly, “Never.”

Kojiro cups water in his palms and lifts them, pouring it down over Kaoru’s chest. He pets back down after, hands lingering at Kaoru’ nipples, rolling a metal bar beneath the pad of his thumb. Kaoru slaps his hand away. 

“No,” Kaoru snaps. 

“But it would make me feel better,” Kojiro tries. 

“You’d throw your back out even more,” Kaoru mumbles. 

Kojiro tries it again, pinching the bud between two fingers this time, Kaoru doesn’t slap him away, too busy stroking his palms along the muscled thighs bracketing him in place.

“You can ride me,” Kojiro says.

Kaoru gives a weak laugh. “So I can put your back out, then?”

Kojiro gives another sigh, but he really sounds amused more than displeased.  “Fine,” he says. “I guess this will do.”

His arms wrap around Kaoru’s waist clinging tight to him so he can’t escape until Kojiro lets him. Not that he wants to, of course. 

Kojiro nuzzles the back of Kaoru's neck, drops a whisper soft kiss against his hairline and lets out another sigh. 

“Thank you,” Kojiro says, right against his skin. 

“And you say I'm never nice to you.

[shoutogepi]

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou 

genre : [ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”  

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 2)

platonic! fukuzawa yukichi x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !! 

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: part 1: meeting the greatest detective

author’s note: ages are a year younger than canon so ranpo is 25, yosano 24, kunikida & dazai 21, fukuzawa 44, you’re 19, and atsushi and the other younger members are not employed yet

and i guess slight spoilers for the untold origins of the armed detective agency but not really. it’s just a reference to it tbh

their beloved president

going to Sakura’s the next morning wasn’t what Fukuzawa had planned during his week

the reason he was dropping by was to give you money for the sweets you had given ranpo

when he had arrived back at the agency the evening before, he had made a big fuss about you and Sakura’s

he had sparked a lot of people’s interest seeing as ranpo was well invested in whoever you were and what your business was

he wouldn’t stop talking about the “cute and annoying bakery girl” who practically saved the agency simply bc she sheltered him during the rain and fed him and almost got hit by a car for him

i mean, how would the agency survive without ranpo? it was founded to make use of his intelligence and ability after all

the other agency employees exchanged looks and that’s when ranpo tiredly sighed and showed them his phone

on the screen was a contact, yours to be exact, labeled “cute bakery girl” with the note underneath reading “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”

around that time, the president had stepped out of his office to see his employees huddling around ranpo and his phone

he walked over to them and asked what was going on, and seeing the president, ranpo explained what had happened with more details

“so you’re saying that a young girl, 19 years old, nearly got herself run over to shelter you from the rain, gave you food, closed her business early so you could keep talking, and when the rain stopped, she gave you a map and even more food, and even though she may have been inconvenienced, she did not ask for anything back? nor did you offer to give her anything back? even though she relies from the money she earns to survive?

“...maybe.”

after a, private chat with ranpo, fukuzawa ended up saying that he’d go take a visit to Sakura’s first thing in the morning to pay off the sweets that she’d given him by sliding an envelope of money under the door with a note

he initially told ranpo to go back right away (and to bring someone with him this time) but that ended up not pulling through bc ranpo had told him you went to retire for the evening

so yeah

there he was walking towards your bakery when he saw a small black cat with green eyes near the entrance playing with one of the potted plants outside

even though it was small, fukuzawa could tell that it wasn’t kitten due to his love of cats but the cat was still small compared to other adult cats

when he was just a couple feet away from the entrance to your bakery, the black cat took notice of him and walked his way before rubbing itself against his leg

fukuzawa let out a small smile as he bent down to pet the small creature, and the cat gladly ate up all the attention

suddenly the entrance to Sakura’s bursts open, and there you are looking back and forth frantically 

but you soon spot him and the cat and you visibly calm down

the black cat rushed to you and rubbed itself against your leg

it turns out the cat was yours, and you couldn’t find him so you panicked and rushed out the door

from there, you introduced yourself with fukuzawa doing the same

you still had about a little more than forty five minutes til Sakura’s was scheduled to open but you offered fukuzawa to come in anyways

he declined at first, but he gave in when, just how you did with ranpo the day before, you dragged him into your bakery

“you know, fukuzawa-san, this is giving me some major deja vu!”

“it’s because of ranpo i presume.”

“oh! you know ranpo-san?”

when the two of you entered, you rushed to a table and pulled out a seat for him before you disappeared off into the kitchen

just a few minutes later, you appeared with a tray with two steaming mugs, two hot plates of food, and small basket of bread

you set one mug in front of fukuzawa as well as a plate of food while you set the other mug and plate in front of the seat across from him and the basket of bread near the center by the small vase of flowers that you had for a center piece

he gave you a confused look as you sat in front of him and as your cat leaped into your lap

“ah! it’s pretty early in the morning, and you still have to go to work later, so i thought you should at least have a little something before you go. and i didn’t have breakfast yet so i thought it would be nice to have some tea with some company. and i made extras anyways!”

fukuzawa blinked before letting out a small smile and he quietly thanks you

you beam at him and as the both of you begin to eat, you ask him why he’s here this early and how he knows ranpo

with that, the silver haired man addresses your questions and explains the reason why he’s here and how he knows the brown clad male 

after explaining, fukuzawa pulls out the envelope with some money and slides it over to you

you try to reject it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re screaming bc you know you need the money for bills and whatnot

fukuzawa wasn’t very helpful either

“so you’re saying you don’t need the money?”

“...no”

you end up accepting the money much to your inner conscience’s chagrin and to fukuzawa’s inner delight

moving on from that, for the rest of the time he was there—the last 40ish minutes or so—you rambled and talked to fukuzawa like how you did with ranpo the day prior, only this time, with a cat switching his resting point for either yours or fukuzawa’s lap

honestly, you’ve gone through so much deja vu and at this point, you’re not sure if you’re still in reality or not

sometime in your conversation, fukuzawa learned that your cat, ironically, was named lucky

apparently you found him in an alley while you were grocery shopping two weeks ago and since you took him in, you noticed that Sakura’s received a lot of new customers and that a lot of them actually ended up becoming regulars

speaking of the cat, you kept having to stop lucky from eating the food on the table

if fukuzawa was amused from your antics along with lucky’s, he was pretty good at hiding it

you: “lucky you naughty cat! i already told youuu” >:(

lucky: >:3

fukuzawa internally: :) & :D

the two of you had also became well engaged in talking about different kinds of tea, with fukuzawa even complimenting you with the tea you had made for him

it became his favorite <33

you were so happy <3

oop there’s that kid-like behavior again🤭

don’t tell ranpo🤫

scratch that he probably already knows somehow </3

speaking of which, the two of you also talked about the childish detective

it was kind of hard to tell whether or not you were admiring him <3 or insulting and complaining </3 about him lol

“so you’re the president ranpo-san was talking about huh. we talked a lot about his job yesterday! it seems quite exciting! but he talks quite a lot honestly.”

“ranpo talked a lot about you as well”

“ah really?! he can be a bit of an ass, but he really is amazing isn’t he?”

“mhmm”

through fukuzawa, you also learned how the two had first met, and this time, it was hard to tell whether you were amazed or angry at him

“awh that’s so cool!! but for someone so smart, he’s an idiot! what if he got hurt?! it was a good thing you got there huh fukuzawa-san?”

if you thought ranpo was like an older brother figure, you definitely saw fukuzawa as some sort of father figure

he noticed that you started to act like ranpo a little bit

you had developed some sort of attachment to him and when he praised you abt your tea, you had the same glow ranpo has when he gives him praise

not that fukuzawa minds

you’re just another child he’s adopting !! <33

not that either of you knew that hehe >:D

time went by pretty fast and before you knew it, there was only 10 minutes until you were scheduled to open

it was a good thing you had just finished all your prep before fukuzawa arrived

after making a promise with fukuzawa for him to come back again for some more tea, he stood up and made his way to the door as you carefully lifted lucky from your lap so you could quickly wash the dishes and to wipe the table and chairs you used

you offered some baked goods and some tea for to go but fukuzawa declined saying that you needed your supplies for your customers

as soon as you placed lucky on the wooden surface, he bolted to fukuzawa and kept on circling his legs and rubbing against him to stop him from leaving

i guess it turns out you weren’t the only one to get attached to fukuzawa

he couldn’t get even one step closer to the door without lucky reacting and running rapid circles around his legs to get him to stop moving

you didn’t know what to do and you were starting to freak out bc it was almost time to open up, but fukuzawa saved the day and offered to take lucky back with him and promised to take him back the next day

at first, like how you did with the money, you declined but ended up giving in when you saw quite a few of your morning regulars walking down the sidewalk towards Sakura’s for its opening

fukuzawa simply picked up the cat and walked out the door giving you one last wave of good bye

when they left, there was only about 5 minutes left and you rushed to finish the last minute clean up

when fukuzawa arrived at the agency (after a quick stop at home) with a cat in his grasp, let’s just say that quite a few more questions were raised

when asked about the cat, he simply answered that he was cat-sitting for a friend and ranpo knowingly smiled

but he then realized that fukuzawa arrived without any of your signature baked goods and he started complain as the rest of the agency members stared in confusion

with ranpo’s visit, they had quite a few questions, but with fukuzawa’s visit to Sakura’s, their confusion only grew a whole lot more and will continue to keep growing

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[peaches-writes]

penalty kick

description: maybe you got off on the wrong foot...actually, jisung did actually pushed you off the wrong foot.  member: jisung / han  genre: fluff, slice of life, coming of age, childhood frenemies / rivals to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, neighbor au, high school au, college au, lil dashes of soccer baseball musician & campus dj au bc jisung ace, female reader, off-season universe (mc from naturally is jeoyeon, mc from tumbles & turns is bora, and mc from off-season is kira hek)  word count: 12k warnings: explicit language, alcohol (a tiny mention of underage drinking pls drink responsibly!), mentions of injuries, jisung issa lil dumb & a lil shit but issokay hes an adorable lil shit note: @crscendoforsung so i scraped the witch jisung au (but i’ll come back to it in the future maybe it’s still in my drafts lol) so here is dumbass jisung for now + im away on christmas day so here’s my gift a day in advanced lmao

Age four. Your neighbor and favorite playmate, Han Jisung, pushed you so hard on the swings at your neighbourhood playground that you literally flew out of your plastic curved seat and bruised your knees, elbows, and chin. 

Maybe you did had it coming from continuously complaining that he ‘pushed like a sissy’ and even standing up on the swing set just to brag that you can balance all of your body weight on such flimsy material. Maybe your neighbor has always had a secret grudge on you finally enacted through this incident. Either way, the next thing you knew, a wide-eyed Jisung was on your side alternating between calling for adult help, crying over your bruises, and muttering curses he probably heard from his older brother under his breath. 

“Shit, shit shit...” He squeaked out frantically in his tiny voice, gently moving you to a sitting position on the stone pavement and dusting the dirt off of your bleeding injuries despite your loud complaints that your entire body was hurting. Looking around your surroundings, his breath then got caught up in his throat at seeing your mother fast-approaching with a mix of furious and worried in her expression. “Auntie! Help!” 

Your mother was hovering over you in an instant, examining your bruises with furrowed brows and clenched teeth. “Ah, dear God, what happened here?!” She exclaimed in a scolding tone, piercing gaze darting between your tearful eyes and Jisung’s panicked ones. “Jisung, did you do this?” 

“It was an accident auntie!” The boy in question answered immediately as he shook his head nervously and scooted away with his hands up in defense. “It was an accident, I promise!” 

However, with your back turned to him then, you naturally had a different impression of the incident as you quickly retorted, “He pushed me, mommy! He pushed me off of the swing!” 

Your mother never made any clear indication that she believed you as she simply shook your head and lifted you by your shoulders and knees, carrying you to a nearby bench to treat your wounds. 

Angered by your outburst, Jisung reluctantly followed you and your mother to the bench then glared at you until your injuries were cleaned and bandaged. With his arms crossed and a permanent frown bordering a pout on his lips, he stood next to you in his attempt at looking visibly angry for a puny five-year-old while you hissed and whined in pain the entire time. 

What’s worse is that his own mother made him apologize by sending him off to the nearest convenience store to buy you apple juice and steamed buns. Because of this, you’ve been mortal enemies, rivals, each other’s designated future potential killer, whatever you want to call it ever since.

Age seven. Han Jisung helped perpetuate a wild rumour that you and the rest of the class’ female population had ‘cooties.’ 

It’s only natural for boys at this age to gravitate to similar actions, of course. After all, you’ve heard worse from boys in the other classes (read: Hwang Hyunjin crying and demanding to get sent home because a girl kissed him on the cheek on the first day of classes). It’s the fact that Jisung actually seemed to have to believed it for a brief period of time in your first grade, however, that completely threw you off. 

He pulled on your braids during the time he sat behind you and kicked your shins while in line for P.E. class to ‘test your anger patience’ that was apparently fueled by cooties and occasionally stole your snacks for actual ‘DNA evidence’ of said cooties among other petty little things. It was nothing short of annoying and the very bane of your existence then. 

“Han Jisung cut it out!” You yelled at him one day, hitting him on the shoulder with the curved end of your wooden broom during after-class cleaning time. In this particular incident, the boy managed to swiftly take one of your pigtails out while wiping the windows in an attempt to ‘examine’ the DNA in your hair. 

“What?!” He snickered, taking a big step away from you and lifting up the blue scrunchie to examine it for miniscule strands of loose hair. “It’s for research!” 

You groaned in annoyance, reaching forward to retrieve the scrunchie with one hand while the other instinctively ran through the messed up half of your hair. “Jisung, give it back, you weirdo!” You scolded through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes when he shakes his head stubbornly and takes another step back from your reach. 

“Tell me the secret first!” 

“Secret of what?!” 

“Do you girls actually have cooties?” He quirked a genuinely suspicious eyebrow at you, raising the scrunchie above your heads after when you proceed lunge forward at him. “Does it actually make you guys this irritable all the time?” 

Somehow, the questions struck some kind of nerve in you. You were tired from classes, cleaning, and having to put up with Jisung’s childish antics. Maybe 1st grade girls did have cooties but for tapping into unbridled anger. “I’m going to kill you!” With the broom in your hands and the dust pan you snatched from his in retaliation, you then proceeded on repeatedly hitting Jisung in the forearms and shoulders until he surrendered with his arms protectively over his head and your scrunchie finally within reach. 

He also offered to fix your pigtail back for you but given the amount of distrust you already had for him, you simply smacked him one last time and went to the other end of the room to fix your hair. 

Age nine. Maturing a little bit through summer camps and classes, you and Jisung redirected all of your energy from physical violence to outsmarting each other in class. 

It started in English class when Mrs. Lee introduced the idea of recitations garnering students points and a fancy award at the end of the school year. Coming from the same piano class in the summer prior wherein you and Jisung also competed for your instructor’s attention, the two of you were quick to consider this as another one of your competitions. 

You devoted most of your time to studying the lesson from the what’s, who’s, when’s, and where’s while Jisung thought that focusing more on the deeper why’s and how’s would somehow garner him better points no matter how many times Mrs. Lee reiterated that all recitation points are given in 1 point’s. 

As the school year progressed, especially after the first semester report cards came out and the two of you were tied to first place in English to the very third decimal, the academic rivalry immediately extended to competing for the most amount of extra-curricular activities. You were more favored with the way you handled baby animals at the local shelter and competed in debates and quiz bees while Jisung was mainly noticed by the soccer and baseball coaches and the school choir’s moderator for his skills in sports and music. 

Jisung’s mom, who always picked the two of you up from school in her minivan, obliviously thought it was cute. 

“You know, instead of competing over everything all the time, you guys can take some notes from each other.” She pointed out one time after hearing your comment on Jisung ‘smelling like a polluted Pacific Ocean’ as he climbed in the backseat of the car. The sentiment almost went in one ear and came out of the other with the two of you, however, as Jisung proceeded on complaining that you smelled like ‘Cruella de Vil’s fake fur coat’ then hitting you on the head with his soccer ball. “Especially you, Sungie. You can learn a thing or two of keeping a goldfish alive for more than a week from Y/N.” 

You laughed at Jisung’s immediate shocked reaction of wide eyes and gaping mouth at this, slapping his arm in amusement and toppling over the backseat in laughter. “Yeah, Sungie, you really need help from that department.” You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, laughing even more when he groans and hits you back with a light punch to your own arm. 

“Stop it.” He hissed at you before turning to his mother again, meeting her gaze through the rear view mirror. “Mom! You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

Mrs. Han was also stifling her own laughs then, forcing herself to focus on the road ahead instead of checking for her son’s pouting expression and crossed arms through the mirror. “Okay, okay.” She chuckled playfully with a dismissive hand, catching your eye after with a giggle. “Y/N, you should learn how to commit to exercise more with Jisung, then. There? Happy?” 

Satisfied, Jisung stuck his tongue out childishly at you as if completely forgetting the fact that he was attacked by his own mother first. “Bleh!” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a light-hearted scoff of your own, laughing away the way he proceeded to exaggeratedly tease you. “You’re so childish, Sung.” 

When your moms did seriously consider this idea later on, you were then forced to dedicated one weekend to taking each other to your respective extra-curricular activities. It was right before your final examinations and Jisung ended up getting scared over a golden retriever giving birth while you received severe cramps from the elementary soccer team’s rigorous conditioning training. 

It was a recipe of disaster, basically, and it ultimately led you and Jisung to cram knowledge for your exams on Sunday night in his bedroom. When you stubbornly didn’t learn anything from going to each other’s favorite extra-curriculars, you unconsciously ended up learning from each other in the six hours you both stayed up trying to review your notes. Miraculously (as in the miracle of hot brewed Milo-induced sugar rushes), it went well and the two of you tied or were close in grades at the second release of report cards.  

The only downside of it all was just the fact that the fancy recitation award in your English class that started it all somehow went to Hyunjin. 

“Ah, this is so frustrating!” You exclaimed on the ride home from school. You had your report card in your hands like Jisung, looking back on it all the while stressing out about Hyunjin winning the award the two of you spent a whole school year competing for. 

On the other side of his mom’s backseats, Jisung then turned to you and suggested, “Want to prank him? We’re playing soccer next week, you can swap his Cola for soy sauce.” 

You glanced over at Jisung, your pout slowly turning into a mischievous grin at his raised brows. “You’re onto something...” 

Age ten. You went on your first class field trip with a stuffed purple lunch bag of snacks.

Your mother specifically suggested that you share it with Jisung, thinking that the two of you would sit next to each other on the bus since he’s your only classmate she’s actually familiar with. But of course, when Jisung didn’t bring up any hints that he knew of this while waiting for the school bus to arrive, you immediately thought against it and planned out how you were going to hide your seemingly endless supply of snacks from him on the back-and-forth rides to Namsan Tower.

It was a well thought-out plan involving sitting near to the front and as far away from him as possible with your own group of friends then hiding the lunch bag under your seat until you caught Hyunjin not-so-discreetly trying to steal from you while he re-checked attendance after a stop-over.

“Jisung put you up to this, didn’t he?” You frowned, candy successfully retrieved from Hyunjin’s prying hands and popped into your mouth as the lanky boy scratched the back of his head in shame. “It’s okay, Hyunjin, I won’t kill you. It’s Jisung’s corpse I’m planning to roll down Namsan if he’s actually behind this.”

After a few more coaxing, Hyunjin eventually nodded sheepishly and admitted to Jisung convincing him to take a candy bar from you.

“Ya! Hyunjin!” Jisung whined from across the bus, peeking his head up from the identical red seats with balled up fists. “I told you not to rat me out!”

“Y/N was being scary!” Hyunjin argues back, sprinting back to his seat as soon as the the bus stopped at a streetlight. Hiding under the sea of seats, he then exclaimed, “You two take me out of your fights! Geez!”

Jisung pouted at you as soon as you lifted your own head up from your seat and turned around to face him, holding his hands out in front of him and then asking, “Can’t I really have candy?”

You shook your head stubbornly. “If I give you one, everyone’s going to ask me for it too.”

“But everyone’s basically asleep!”

“They could be fake-sleeping for all I know!” You hissed, popping another ball of candy in your mouth. “I don’t trust anyone in this class with food but myself.” 

“Y/N!” He whined, only to get pulled down by force when the bus abruptly begins moving again. Scrambling up right after, he then continued pleading, “Please?”

“No.” You firmly concluded, sitting back down on your seat. 

Jisung even tried staying behind to try and steal candy off of you while the entire class was piling outside to enter Namsan Tower, only to trip in surprise when you jumped on him from crouching under the seats. Poor boy almost hit his head on the seats in shock.

“I knew you’d pull this kind of shit.” You tsked in disapproval with a slight stutter towards cursing at such an age, smacking him over the head anyway before throwing the smallest piece of chocolate candy you had from your bag. Moving past him to the bus exit, you then added, “You don’t even do nice things for me.”

You only meant it half-heartedly, though. Whether Jisung actually wanted more candy or he did sincerely felt bad over what you said, either way, he paid for the expensive pink lock you and your friend wanted to hang at the very top of the tower later on but only if you promised to share your snacks.

Jisung received three packets of gummy bears and a bottle of banana milk from you in the end on the ride home.

Age twelve. The Hans temporarily moved to Malaysia in the summer before the seventh grade because of an assignment for Jisung’s father at work.

On the day before their flight, Mr. and Mrs. Han organized a farewell party in their house at the other end of the block and invited your entire class. Jisung tricked you into getting him a farewell present by telling you that everyone was planning to do the same thing as a surprise but he secretly found out thing.

He didn’t actually expect you to get him something, not with the way the two of you have always been at each other’s necks since you were kids, but you ended up surprising him in the middle of the lunch party by giving him a small notebook of useful Malaysian phrases you wrote down yourself. You don’t always agree with Jisung but you think of yourself as thoughtful and civil enough to buy something practical. Also, your parents insisted. 

“O-Oh, you actually got me something?” He fumbled through an intense blush that matched the redness of his Supreme cap, almost tripping over nothing as you both stood on the steps leading down to the back of his house. It didn’t help that a few classmate passersby were glancing your way as well, either cooing or snickering at the awkward sight in the corner of all the socialization. “L-Like—like, this is actually for me?”

You raised a brow in confusion and reluctantly shrugged, releasing the red phrasebook from your grip as he held onto it by the other end. “Yeah, you said you’re getting presents so I...got you one.”

“I actually lied—“

“What?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly for your taste, earning you a sharp glare from your mother all the way across the backyard. Mouthing a quick apology to your her, you then quickly averted your glare back to Jisung who instinctively resorted to looking at anywhere but you. “But you said—“

“I thought for sure that no one would give me any farewell presents since it’s not a birthday or anything but I know you would if you’re like forced to or something so I thought...hehe...” He mustered up a sheepish grin, pressing his index fingers together in a comical shy gesture. When your glare intensifies, he then immediately held his hands up in defense and visibly winced, “Ya, don’t hit me!”

Every fiber in your being really wanted to hit him with the notebook then, maybe even push him down the stairs while no one was looking, but after a moment of thinking your way out of such violent thoughts, you resorted to exhaling a sigh and saying, “Whatever, just keep the notebook or something. I don’t care. It’s not expensive, anyway.”

You chanted to yourself that you’re mature, especially as Jisung’s eyes lit up and he immediately thanked you for both the gift and sparing his life that day.

Though he didn’t hear the end of the other teasing from Hyunjin after that, Jisung kept the notebook around anyway throughout his entire two-year stay in Malaysia. It was helpful but he’ll never admit that to your face.

“You kept it.” You pointed out one day, more as a statement than a question as you realized that the notebook he was using for exam reviewer notes was in the same color as the phrasebook you gave him. When Jisung came back in the summer before the ninth grade, the two of you met again in the same cram school wherein mostly everyone but you and the transfer student, Kim Seungmin, refused to help him keep up with the heavier than usual workload. “The phrasebook...”

“Yeah—well, I didn’t want to waste any of the pages you didn’t write on.” He pouted stubbornly as he flipped through the older pages to compare the amount of pages you used to the empty sheets. His tone actually sounded like he was convincing himself much more than he was trying with you but you missed it complete in the moment. “Be more eco-friendly, Y/N.”

You simply rolled your eyes at him. “Glad to know I kept you alive in another country somehow, then.”

Age fourteen. You went to a soccer game to see Jisung but only because one of your friends, Eunha, developed a crush on the striker and eventually hatched a plan to confess on the game before Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, Jisung barely noticed and didn’t tease you for it since it’s already an established fact that you’re always at his games with either Yang Jeongin or Seungmin to cheer on Hyunjin instead.

You really didn’t get it. Of course, fifteen was the time when some, if not all, parts of your day were starting to become dedicated to vanity and all the artificial things in life to attract kind of puppy love in school but at this point Jisung always wore the same green hoodie, red Supreme cap, and white ‘Eyez on You’ shirt to every school function that didn’t require wearing a uniform.

You understood how your classmates suddenly began fawning over Hyunjin right after the summer when he got his braces removed and then Seungmin for bringing a suit and tie one time for an inter-school debate but the hype over Jisung suddenly bringing in his guitar to class breaks everyday and re-emerging as a star soccer and baseball player throughout the school year is an absolute mystery to you. That or, maybe compared to your junior high peers, you’re just as used to him at this point than they all are. In your perspective, the only legitimate thing he has going on is how he always seems to beat you in most Arts subjects and how annoying it is that he always makes sure to rub that in your face. 

“I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t shower properly right after training.” You shook your head disapprovingly at Eunha during the game. Soccer is an interesting sport for surprisingly bringing you up to stand and cheer at some moments, you’ll give it that, but watching Jisung get cocky and interact to the crowd whenever his team scored a point was somehow cringe-worthy to watch. “And I’m so sure he still doesn’t clean that soccer ball of his right after practice. You deserve better, sis.”

But no matter how much you talked shit about him throughout the entire game, Eunha still held onto the box of handmade candies she coerced you into picking up from Jisung’s favorite candy shop on the weekend prior and cheering him on with the slogan she made herself. It would’ve looked cute and sweet to you if it was some other guy but it’s Jisung—the guy who pushed you off a swing, pulled your hair, stole candy from you, and made all of your elementary after-school rides home an actual rollercoaster—and you would never wish his treatment of you to any other person ever.

“You said that was in elementary, Y/N.” Eunha chuckled softly, nudging your elbow before a sour expression could completely overtake your face. “Surely he’s outgrown that girls have cooties phase every boy had then.”

“No, it’s Jisung and I refuse to believe it.”

You really didn’t want to believe it with your natural instinct to see Jisung as the bane of your existence. What’s worse is that Eunha was right and Jisung shyly accepted the Saturday movie date at the mall that she came up with on the spot when he surprisingly received the candies well, a complete stretch from the Jisung who would’ve lied about being busy or tricked your friend into doing something else altogether. Suddenly, it was selfishly annoying that you’re the only one he actually tortures the life out of.

“Told you.” Eunha giggled throughout the drive back to your house. Your mother picked you up from school right after the soccer game for a sleepover you insisted was a must whether or not your friend scored her Valentine’s Day date. “Ah, I’m glad he accepted. I was a nervous wreck there! You don’t happen to know what kind of movie he likes, do you?”

You never heard the end of it from her for the remainder of the semester. The two were never official—middle school just didn’t have that solid idea of significant others, then—but they did went on numerous ‘dates’ almost every weekend that followed Valentine’s Day. Naturally, Eunha would tell you all about it. 

“He’s so sweet and caring and thoughtful!” The girl endlessly gushed out to you so genuinely you would’ve been happy had you not been sincerely expecting a major fuck-up from Jisung. Nothing romantic really did come out of these dates, even Jisung surprisingly swears by it, but they did become really close friends after and as Jisung’s only other female friend at the time, you can clearly see a point of comparison between his different treatment of you. “Though, I’m gonna give it to you that he is annoying sometimes but he does know a lot of good places to hang out around town for someone who’s been away for two years!” 

“He does the bare minimum for everything, Eunha. I could barely call it sweet.” You scoffed unamused. 

Age sixteen. In the summer after the tenth grade, an upperclassman from school by the name of Lee Minho started volunteering at the same local shelter you’ve been under since elementary after surrendering a lost cat to you while he and Jisung were playing baseball at the nearby park. 

He adopted Dori in the end but prior to finalizing the adoption papers, he actually made the effort to come in at your MWF schedule to help around and see the dark grey kitten. To you, it was endearing and thoughtful since you didn’t have much active co-workers at the shelter your age but to Jisung, it was slightly inconveniencing how Minho would cut off their play-time to see the cat. He even thought Minho had a crush on you and vice versa but you knew that Minho liked one of his own closer friends. 

“Jeoyeon?” Minho scoffed, crouching down next to you one time as you watched over the new litterbox of kittens eating with Dori on your feet. Crossing his arms over his knees, he shook his head and chuckled, “They’re cool and we’ve been friends for a long time but I’m sure they have a big fat crush on Bang Chan. Something happened after their McDonald’s date after our prom, I’m telling you!” 

“No, not Jeoyeon! I meant Bora!” You argued back with a laugh, picking up a white kitten that wanders off to your feet and lifts its body up cutely for a lift. Gingerly pressing the kitten to your shoulder, you then turned to Minho and continued, “The one who came by the other day to see Dori with you. Aren’t you guys rooming together in college?” 

Minho clutched his chest dramatically at this, shaking his head with a comical conviction. “What?! How could you accuse me of that, Y/N? Bora’s from a different cheerdance team! That would be like sleeping with the enemy!” 

You rolled your eyes, knocking him off of his balance by elbowing his sides. “Ya, I didn’t say that, you did!” You scoffed at him, sighing when he laughs off landing on his butt before sitting up in a crisscross position. “Anyway, don’t you like her?” 

“If I don’t like her, we wouldn’t be making all these plans to move in together for college, stupid.” Minho snickered, earning him another elbow jab from you. “Well, what do you want me to say? You asked me if I like her, you didn’t ask me how exactly I like her.” 

"Okay then, you wise wise person: how do you like Bora?” You sighed dryly, plopping down on the ground at feeling your ankles starting to ache from crouching. The kitten on your arm then jumped down to your lap, circling your legs a few times before finding a comfortable position to sleep in. “You know, the more you visit here with this kind of sarcasm, the more I’m starting to understand where Seungmin and Jisung are suddenly getting all of their newfound sassiness from.” 

Minho chuckled next to you, picking up Dori for himself once he saw him finish eating before hugging the kitten gently to his cheek. “Bora’s...someone I’d probably punch a guy in the team for if they ever disrespect her. I mean, I’d punch a guy for Dahyun, Jeoyeon, and Jihyo, too, of course, but Bora’s in the same sport where she’s always getting lifted in the air and touched by who knows who and now that we won’t be in the same team, I feel even more responsible for keeping an eye out for her.” He shrugged casually, ignoring the way your jaw just dropped at how naturally he explained himself. “Plus, it took a lot of convincing to get her to be my roommate so I can’t really have her dying under my care in the next four years.” 

“I—” You furrowed your brows in thought, pursing your lips in a pout. “Wow, I’m jealous.” 

“Then get on my good side, Y/N.” Minho winked with a laugh, holding Dori in front of you. “Let me take this baby home at the end of the summer.” 

You rolled your eyes again at this, shaking your head. “No, I mean...I hang out with Jeongin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jisung and they aren’t really the most well-versed boys on treating girls properly.” 

“That’s why you hang out with me. We all know that Hyunjin just can’t say no to anyone who offers him a slightly more expensive bouquet of flowers, Seungmin’s in a relationship with baseball and academics, and Jisung...Jisung’s just dumb in general.” Minho then pointed out with a somehow knowing tone, smirking when a familiar figure passes by the hallways right behind you. “Speaking of...” 

Jisung joined you and Minho after, making sure to sit in between the two of you and drowning himself in as many kittens who wanted to sit on his lap as much as he can. “Dude, you shouldn’t have left early!” He scolded Minho with a pout and a slightly breathless tone from running all the way from the park. “Seungmin joined us today and he completely wiped out Sunwoo’s team!” 

“Then even more reasons to come here early so you guys could play with Seungmin on your team.” Minho laughed, gently handing Dori over to you from across Jisung before standing up and dusting the lint off of his jeans. “Y/N needed help with feeding the cats and puppies today, anyway.” 

Jisung frowned, turning to you after and asking, “Don’t you have any other co-workers around here?”

“Jeno has allergies so I don’t let him in here on most days.” You shrugged, handing Minho the empty pet bowls nearest to you as he proceeded to clean and collect them. “I can do it myself, you know. It’s just that Minho comes over and insists.” 

“Then you should’ve just told him that so we can play longer.” 

“Why is it a big deal? Do you like Minho?” 

“Do you?” Jisung’s eyes widened, almost getting scratched by a random cat in the process. “Because...because that’d be gross, to be honest...”

At this moment, your eyes accidentally met Minho’s right behind Jisung and the older boy had the audacity to wink at you before sprinting out of the room with a thumbs up above his head. 

In the end, you shrugged and answered, “I like him.” 

“What?!” Jisung sat up so quickly he almost scared a bunch of kittens walking all over his chest into jumping away.

“I’d be a psychopath if I don’t like him but let him volunteer around here, dumbass.” You deadpanned, moving the kittens around him to a safer space on the floor. “Besides, you asked me if I like him, not how I like him.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

Minho had a whole laugh out of eavesdropping from this conversation that he felt bad and actually adjusted his schedule for volunteering and playing soccer better so ‘Jisung would have one less thing to whine about all the time.’ 

Age seventeen. You and Jisung tried convincing your respective parents that going to prom as a group is the more practical and actually trendy thing to do but your mothers wouldn’t have it. Ultimately, the two of you ended up lying that you’re going as each other’s dates. 

You initially planned on begging to Seungmin until he pulled up balloons, roses, and a song number to his lab partner right on the lunch break that you planned on doing it and, of course, you had enough dignity to not fall in line with the countless of students that basically worshipped Hyunjin’s locker as if it were a shrine. 

Jisung, with Eunha already set on going with someone else she started dating at the beginning of the 11th grade school year, was the convenient choice. Your parents knew each other, he knows someone (his older brother) who can drive, and he’s recently gotten over his Emo-Hypebeast wardrobe phase after joining the school’s radio club with Chan and Changbin. With some convincing (read: an elaborate PowerPoint Presentation he made you do on the spot during one of your lunch breaks), the two of you decided that you would take all the photos your respective mothers wanted, carpool to the hotel, then go on your separate ways until his brother picks the two of you up at the end of the night. 

It was a simple and fool-proof plan, one that you almost forgot when you rented an emerald green and gold prom attire then Jisung’s mother told you right after about hearing her son trying to order a purple callalily boutonniere that clearly did not match your taste nor your colors (you sorted this out by cancelling the order and taking matters into your own hands). Then, the most awkward photo op at your house happened. 

“Sungie, put your arm around Y/N!” 

“Y/N, stop slouching, you’re going to wrinkle your outfit!” 

You were never serious-looking in any photos that had Jisung in it as well, preferring to pose like the two of you planned on murdering each other right after the photos instead, but your respective moms were holding your Instax camera and the family film cameras across the living room in this particular situation and so you reluctantly kept it inside. Straightening up your shoulders and elbowing Jisung to at least wrap an arm over your shoulder, you held up smiles right next to your red rose corsage and boutonniere set until the two women were eventually satisfied with their photos. 

“Aah, you two really make a cute couple!”

“Mom, we’re not a couple!” Jisung whined, glaring at you after which you immediately returned with the same expression.

“God, I’d sell all my limbs first before we actually become a couple.” You deadpanned back at him.

Fortunately, Jisung’s older brother allowed the two of you to basically try and throw each other out of the car windows on the thirty-minute ride to the hotel venue in compensation. You almost had him by the neck and he almost ruined your hair that you spent hours curling until Hyunjin pulled you back with a smack to your head and dragged the two of you away to help in the Prom Committee’s final preparations since Jisung was going to perform with Changbin and you were a part of the Prom’s Logistics team. 

You mostly stayed out of each other’s hairs for most of the first part of the program as you were busy pulling everything together while Jisung was having the time of his life with the soccer and basebal teams. The next time you bumped into each other, you scolded him for running late to his and Changbin’s set after dinner. 

“Where were you?!” You mostly hit him in the back with your clipboard, frantically passing him his already set up electric guitar and a microphone. First, one of your peers got drunk too early in the dinner to help out in the program, then one of the event’s award sashes briefly went missing and, not to mention, a lot of the people from the other committees somehow forgot about their event tasks when you asked in the main groupchat. You really weren’t having anyone’s antics at this point. “Geez, we already practiced this!” 

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me! Why are you so on edge?” Appropriately, he whined in complaint and took a step back after receiving his equipment, holding his hands up in defense as he always does. “Cut me some slack, Y/N! It’s prom!” 

“You’re so late when your table is literally right next to the side of the stage!” 

“I was dancing with everyone else! You wouldn’t know since you wouldn’t even take a break!” 

“Because I’m busy!” 

“No, you’re just being more irritable than usual!” 

“Fuck you, Han Jisung.” You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh, coldly directing him to the stage. “You’re on, get on the stage.” 

You knew he didn’t mean it cruelly, especially when his pupils started to shake and his shoulders instinctively slumped as he glanced back at you right before reluctantly stepping up the star-filled stage, but you were too tired of having to run around and making the event perfect for most of the night to process anything, much less his usual jabs at you. Being in such a tired headspace, you couldn’t enjoy his songs no matter how undeniably great they were, much less meet his eyes when you knew how he kept glancing at you throughout the entire set. 

He even covered your favorite song on the spot (which surprised Changbin and had Hyunjin running around backstage to inform everyone of the sudden extension) but you already sat down on your shared table with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Eunha, and their dates before he could even begin singing the chorus.  

“Hey, you good?” Minjung, Eunha’s date, asked you with an offering of an extra shawl to cover your exposed shoulders from the nearby air-conditioning unit. Eunha had previously left to go to the bathroom after stopping by your shared table. “Y/N, I told you if you needed extra help with the program, you could’ve just told us. We just planned on dancing tonight, anyway.” 

“I’m good.” You grumbled in a half-lie, resting your chin on your propped up hand tiredly, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ for the shawl as you fought away your tiredness. “I think I’ll just sit the rest of Prom out. Hyunjin can run the program on his own.” 

Minjung frowned, sitting down next to you and fixing the loose strands on the haphazard ponytail you managed to pull up in the middle of the program. “Are you sure? Eunha and I can stay with you until you’re feeling better. Besides, the program’s still long, you deserve to enjoy your hard work later at least.” 

Stubbornly, you simply scrunched up your nose and shook your head. “I think I’ve had enough of prom for one night. You should go and dance more, though. I’m okay as long as you guys are having fun.” 

But equally as headstrong as you are, Minjung got Eunha in on convincing you to agreeing to one dance with them as soon as she came back from the bathroom, reasoning out that, “We can stay in the back and just dance silly! It’s prom!” 

The pair proved themselves to be unstoppable in their joint persuasiveness when they got you to stand up and actually join them at the next set, right as Jisung was about to approach you to apologize. The poor boy ended up waiting the entire night until the two of you were alone instead, shivering right next to each other at the lobby while waiting for his brother to pick you two up. 

“Why did you even pick out something off-shoulder? I get that it’s trendy these days but you picked the venue knowing it’s cold and didn’t even connect a few dots there.” He hissed lowly, contemplating on teasing you further or keeping it quiet until he can muster up a ‘sorry’ to you. Shrugging off his jacket, he then gently draped it over your shoulder and added, “Don’t catch a cold or something...your mom’s going to kill me.” 

“Shut up.” You hissed back, crossing your arms further in over your chest as you spotted his brother’s car approaching the lobby’s driveway. You didn’t remove his coat from your back, though, clutching it tightly instead while convincing yourself that he willingly gave it to you so there’s no reason for you to throw it back at him when you really needed it. “ You don’t even do nice things for me.”

The familiar words visibly caught him off-guard, almost foiling his plan of opening the door for you as he freezes in his steps but he regains composure in time and almost trips ahead to swat your hand away from the car’s door handle. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled in the awkward silence, gulping down his fears of your death glare as he briefly averted his gaze away from you. With this, he missed the way your gaze softened. “There’s candies in the pockets.”

And there was, coincidentally enough the same brand he tried stealing from you on your school field trip.

“These aren’t expired, right?” You chuckled, popping a chocolate in your mouth anyway. 

That was enough for Jisung to relax his shoulders and laugh along. “No, promise.” He held a hand up as if he was swearing by his words, easing you into another fit of laughs. “I ran all the way to the convenience store down the block to get you those tonight! I felt really bad...I didn’t mean it.”

He could be sweet if he wanted, you’d give him that. 

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered to him at the end of the night, right after scoffing at him for insisting to walk you all the way to your doorstep of course. “I was so stressed with managing everything that I took it out on you.” 

Standing awkwardly with you right in front of your house’s front door, the sheepish boy rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I think I deserve it. I do annoy you a lot, don’t I?” He chuckled, eyes trained to the ground. “I didn’t even ask you to one dance.” 

“Not like you actually had to, we’re no—” 

“But you were still technically my date and I don’t want to be a bad prom date, even to you!” He insisted anyway, only then looking up at you. “I’ll make it up to you in the distant future, okay? Reserve me your next dance in the distant future, no matter where it is!”  

Before you could even retort, he was already running back to his brother’s car. 

Age eighteen and a half. Jisung began dating a girl named Haneul whom he met in one of his general classes and didn’t have one single clue about baseball or soccer. Naturally, his entire friend group was concerned. 

Though you’re much civil friends now, you still didn’t really care. Or maybe you didn’t want to out of spite (or a really really weird and displaced feeling of jealousy?), you weren’t sure. You just thought that Jisung can do whatever he wants even when it’s something that’s generally not advisable when you’re a freshman in college, but it seemed as if it was all Jeongin talked to you about whenever the two of you met up to study for one of your shared classes so naturally you forced yourself to take in all of the gossip. What’s worse is that Hyunjin would come over often to loiter around the library and gawk at the cute student librarian, ultimately encouraging the younger boy to talk about it more. 

“You’re being unfair to her.” You always reminded the two, sometimes Seungmin when he would sit quietly in the middle of the topic and say nothing to defend Haneul. In this particular time, Jeongin took you to watch the baseball team’s Wednesday scrimmage after hours of studying your nursing notes together at the nearby library. “Like, look, I don’t even do any sports myself but you guys hang out with me.” 

“But you’re different, you’re not dating any one of us.” Hyunjin snickered, hugging his helmet to his chest as he sat a step below you on the bleaches. When a thought then crossed his mind, he dramatically gasped over his gloves and added, “Wait, does that mean you have a crush on someone? Is it me?” 

You smacked him in the head with your hand, rolling your eyes after. “You know what I mean.” 

Next to you, Jeongin mustered up a shrug as he tried getting an injured Kira to sit back down on her seat. Your stubborn best friend, after playing at an underground derby game on the weekend prior, kept on moving around because sitting down with her injuries made her uncomfortable. “But at least you make an effort for us even if it’s just small.” He reasoned out, huffing tiredly when Kira finally sits down and promises not to move for the next five minutes. You would’ve helped him but personally you thought he deserved to suffer alone after letting her go out despite her injuries today. “Haneul got dragged by Jisung to watch last week’s scrimmage and didn’t even last a set. She just left in the middle of the game—literally!”

“He made Jisung skip on my derby game to too!” Kira pouted, waving her bandaged hands frantically in the air. “I’m personally offended, Y/N!”

“And she doesn’t seem to like talking to us in general.” Hyunjin shrugged in conclusion. “Like, sports aside, she’s a bit rude and nonchalant when she talks to us in general especially when Sung isn’t around. It’s a bit sus to me.” 

“To be fair, Kira, I wouldn’t be going too if you and Yeji aren’t so insistent on it. It’s so worrying seeing the two of you get hurt.” You pointed out before averting your attention to Jeongin once more. “And Jeongin, you know the only reason I can’t leave baseball and soccer games these days is because you and Seungmin are usually my ride home.” You scoffed. “If I could, I’d be hanging out with Felix more and only going to Kira’s games. Ya, why is he even allowed to skip games and I’m not, anyway?”

“Because he’s taking classes and training with the cheerdance squad until 8 PM and as far as I’m concerned, you’re free after 12 noon like me!” Jeongin simply grinned at you, earning himself a glare. “Also, I need you here with me as the medic team. You know I’ll panic alone!” 

Fortunately, no one ever actually gets injured at any of the games regardless if they were formal or not. By the time the game has finished, you were reminding Kira to rest more at her dorms and sprinting out of the baseball field to the samgyeopsal place the team promised to treating dinner at. You completely missed the boys’ conversation on Haneul in the process but you did get free food.

You really didn’t get it. The one time you met Haneul by chance, when you and Felix bumped into the two at the mall near the supermarket, she seemed a bit distant but she could be polite when she wanted to. Of course, it rubbed you the wrong way but you and Felix thought that it was none of your business anyway, given that neither of you are dating her. 

“When the guys walked me out of the baseball field last Wednesday, they did mention something about Jisung aiming for the soccer national team but who knows if they’re exaggerating again or something.” Kira confided in you later that week when the two of you met up over lunch. “Either way, I’d understand. If I were in Jisung’s shoes, I’d feel a little disheartened if someone I really like doesn’t appreciate the things I’m passionate about!”

Still, you simply let your friends sort it out for themselves. “Jisung’s a grown-up, he can figure things out on his own at the end of the day.” You reasoned out. 

Age eighteen and three-fourths. Jisung asked—practically begged—you to go to the movies with him because he and Haneul broke up the week before his birthday after opening up his worries to her. The other ticket was meant to be a surprise for his ex-girlfriend.

From what Jeongin and Felix have gossiped to you on two separate occasions, Haneul apparently didn’t like you and the rest of Jisung’s immediate friend group no matter how many times the boys tried warming up to her and getting to know her over the summer. She didn’t really support Jisung’s passion for sports, too, and mostly just stuck around for the ‘clout of it all’ or however Felix worded it to you. 

“I’d ask Hyunjin but he has a date with that librarian!” Jisung frowned over the phone on the night before the scheduled screening of Weathering with You. Reminiscent of a similar time long ago, he sounded more like he was convincing himself than you. “And Seungmin’s taking care of Kira, Minho and Felix are training, Changbin’s doing God knows what with his finals, Chan has swim training and—and yeah, you know where I’m going with this!” 

You sighed, rolling over on your back in your bed after submitting your online work. “You can ask the baseball team, the soccer team, your Introduction to Musical Theory class, the campus radio club, and—and yeah, you also know where I’m going with this.” 

“Yeah but—but it’d be weird if I just went with anyone or something!” He mumbled under his breath, pausing on the other line to scratch his head in thought. “Come on, it’s not your midterms week yet, right? Can’t you come over and go to the movies with me?”

“You’ll probably strangle me in the dark or something.” You argued next. 

“But it’s free tickets! At least you’re going to die with free tickets!” 

“So you are planning to kill me! I knew it!” You snorted dryly, rolling your eyes. “Seriously, don’t you have anyone else to go with? Why me?” 

Jisung took in a sharp breath in the longest pause you’ve ever heard from the usually rowdy boy. At that moment, only then did you notice the faint sounds of pre-recorded dialogues for soccer arcade games. He must’ve been at the one near his dorm then as he usually was when he was contemplating on something. “I just—honestly, I’m still processing all of this and I don’t want to open up to the guys...and Eunha’s abroad and I’m not that close to Kira or Bora so I thought of you.” 

Now, it was your turn to be speechless. 

“It’s silly, I know.” Jisung continued with an awkward laugh when he didn’t hear anything on your end. “But even when you’re annoying sometimes and you always get angry at me because you always misunderstand, you’ve known me the longest and I know you listen well and you’re always open-minded about things so I thought I’d vent to you, if it’s okay...” 

You finally released a defeated sigh, sitting up properly on your bed as if he was actually in the same room as you. “God, you’re too good at making me feel guilty.” You mused out loud. “Fine, just text me the place and time and no funny business!” 

You met up with Jisung at the nearest shopping center the following night, surprise paper bags of take-out and a mini cake for two to eat at the cinema. 

“I’m only going to be nice to you this time because you just got dumped and it’s your birthday later.” You explained as serious as you can to a giggling and blushing Jisung, handing him the take-out paper bags. Once the dinner meals are in his hands, you then take out the blueberry mini cheesecake from its separate paper bag and set up the candle you brought along with it. “Now, make a wish and get it over with.” 

Jisung’s eyes widened at the pink candle suddenly being pushed up to his face, distracting him from the passersby cooing and making comments at the two of you. “Really?” 

You nodded impatiently, thrusting the cake further up his face. “Yes! Now, blow on your candles or I’ll do it myself and eat the whole thing!” 

Jisung wasted no time blowing the single candle and taking the cake from you as well, jumping up and down in place as he closed the lid carefully and returned it to its paper bag. “Thank you!” He exclaimed gleefully, pulling you to a side hug. “Now, I feel a bit better.” 

“You better.” You frowned back at him, biting down a small smile when his hug lingered on a second longer. “Now, let’s go or we’ll be late to the screening.” 

Fortunately, Jisung didn’t actually tried strangling you in the dark while the movie played since he became busy with eating his dinner and cake as well as crying over the plot. 

Age nineteen. Jisung took you to the arcade inside the shopping center after to vent while scoring kicks at the mini soccer game. 

“Basically, she said—” Score. “—that she felt annoyed that Hyunjin, Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin were mostly onto her for ‘seeming off’ whenever they met or interacted.” Another score. Standing outside the protective fence, your gaze darted quickly between Jisung and the small net across the long room. “So I said that’s just how those guys are: they’re very curious of new people and make a lot of effort over it so when they feel that the other person’s energy seems off or doesn’t match theirs in any way, they’d worry.”

You nodded along whenever he glanced over to you, agreeing halfheartedly. “Hm, those guys don’t take bullshit, of course...”

“Yeah, right...” Jisung kicked another ball, barely missing the goal as he thinks of what to say next. “Then she started accusing the guys that they don’t like her because she doesn’t do sports which doesn’t even make sense because I know it’s not superficial like that.” He sighed, scoring again. After this particular kick, he then stopped altogether and turned to you. “The guys just feel off that, as someone I’m dating, she doesn’t make enough effort to watch my games or be familiar with the sports I love. It’s not the same thing.”  

“But does she make an effort to listen to your music?” You blurted out of nowhere, surprising not only Jisung but also yourself. 

It just occurred you to on the spot. All this talk about Jisung’s passion for sports had you thinking if Haneul also disliked the one other thing that Jisung was absolutely passionate about: his music. 

And it seemed to have caught him off-guard as it took the boy longer to contemplate on the question. “I—n-no? No...” He furrowed his brows in thought, walking over to you on his side of the chain link fence. “Come to think of it, she never told me what she thought of the songs I used to send her for feedback...”

You nodded, mumbling under your breath, “So much for defending her from everyone last summer...” 

“Hm?” 

“Like, I’d get it if your friends don’t immediately warm up to her because that really does happen in some relationships and it can be remedied over time but not appreciating the things you, the person she’s dating, are passionate about is another thing. If she doesn’t like the things you’re passionate about, then maybe she really isn’t the one you should be with.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “She could be all things nice but if she doesn’t support your own ambitions, other things that make you really happy, then everything else doesn’t mean anything.”

When he doesn’t speak, you allow yourself to continue. “Kira told me that you’re aiming for the national team in either baseball or soccer which is a bit surprising since I know you’re already being sought after for your music even at university so clearly those things are very important to you. Having someone around that doesn’t see that importance enough to make efforts is a bit meaningless in the long run, if you think about it. You...you deserve better, it’s what I’m trying to get at.” 

Still, he wouldn’t speak after everything you said. Instead, the boy just gaped at you from the fence. It definitely unnerved you as time dragged on longer. 

“I let you vent and made my own input on it like you wanted me here to and you just gape?” You tsked through your nervousness, crossing your arms teasingly and leaning over the fence on your side. “Ji, say something.” 

“...thank you.” He finally breathed out before you could complain further, catching you off-guard this time. “I needed that.” 

“What?” 

“This whole thing just made me feel really conflicting feelings.” He confessed, voice lower than usual now as he mirrored your position. “Thank you for listening and telling me what you thought. They definitely made a lot of things clearer.” 

You smiled, shoving him slightly through the fence separating the two of you. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it birthday boy?” You teased, laughing even more when he pouted at your teasing tone. “So? Feel better, then?” 

“A bit, yeah.” He nodded, grinning widely now. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.” 

“You won’t admit it to my face but I know you’d do the same for me if I annoyed you into it enough.” You shrugged, standing up properly now and walking over to the entrance. “Now, would you let me play? You’ve been at it for twenty minutes, it’s getting tiring watching you.” 

He laughed at this as you joined him in the arcade space, kicking a soccer ball towards you as soon as you came in through the chain entrance. “What? You think you can do better?” 

“I had to watch you all the time after school back then because you were my ride home and Mrs. Han always picked us up late. I’m sure that could amount to something.” 

Age nineteen and a half. For a mandatory community service class, all of your friends signed up to volunteer at an orphanage. 

The majority vote was actually at the shelter you used to volunteer at but your old neighbourhood was too far from the university you were attending and so the most practical option, the orphanage just two blocks away, was the natural next best thing. And from this one semester’s worth of experience, you definitely learned a lot about your friends. 

For one, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin were only popular with kids but only for their looks (additionally, his baking skills for Felix). Whenever you passed by them during volunteer hours, you would often find the three buried underneath a pile of toddlers hitting them with all kinds of toys. Feeling bad, you actually got the orphanage’s matron to assign them to the older kids after a while. 

Seungmin and Kira, on the other hand, were so awkward at first but naturally got into the groove of it. Maybe it’s because they only started dating then and everything was flustering but they surprised you the most with how much they got along with almost all of the kids regardless of age. 

Then, there was Jisung whom almost all of the younger kids practically fought over to play with at the playground. As if it was an inside joke of some sort, it made you laugh the most how the kids would often ask him to push them at the swings. 

“Careful now,” You reminded him once jokingly, elbowing his side as the two of you approached the swing set where the kids were already waiting to get pushed on their respective seats. “don’t want their knees to get scraped or something.”

He simply scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I won’t let that happen, not at this age.” 

“So if I asked you to push me on the swings later, you won’t try and kill me this time?” You asked next, waving hello to the children before going around the swing set to gently push them to momentum. Jisung followed suit, making a beeline to his favorite, a toddler named Ara who always asked to be pushed higher on the swings. 

“That’s a trick question because we’re not actually allowed to play here.” He answered matter-of-factly, turning to Ara right after. “Isn’t that right, Ara? Y/N isn’t allowed to play here because she’s an adult, right?” 

The two of you would sit on the swing set and take turns pushing each other when the orphanage staff weren’t looking anyway, giggling amongst yourselves while watching the kids migrate to the jungle gym. 

“You were so annoying when we were kids!” You mostly complained, letting yourself laugh about it now as it was all in the distant past. “You had the ‘girls had cooties’ phase and everything.” 

“Because the boys all said it was true!” Jisung was quick to say in his defense, twisting the chains on his swing around to make himself spin. “And I was seven so of course I’d believe them that easily!” 

“What about when you pushed me from the swings?” 

“We both know that was an accident.” 

“You could’ve secretly held a grudge against me as early as that time! You were so mad when your mom made you buy me snacks!” 

“Because you told your mom that I did it on purpose! I thought you hated me even before that too.” 

“Well, I never hated you before that, just to set the record straight.” You shook your head immediately, turning your swings to the side to face him briefly. “You? Did you ever hate me?”

“Never.” He shook his head back at you in response, equally serious now. “You were annoying at times but that was because I was kinda annoying to you too.”

“What about now?” You asked next, voice unexpectedly wavering at asking such a question and even more when he chuckled at this. 

“You were with me on my what was almost my worst birthday ever just three months ago. What do you think?” He scoffed playfully, returning to his spinning to ease his flustered face. “Besides, we’re like better less-trying to kill each other all the time friends now! We’re even studying together again these days.” 

“We both know you’re only at the library since you’ve been trying to wingman Hyunjin with the librarian and dote on Jeongin like he’s your baby.” 

“What? No, I’m there for you too! Moral support!” 

Age nineteen and three-fourths. Jisung’s older brother invited you along with your parents to his wedding during the Spring break and Jisung immediately jumped on the chance to redeem himself as ‘the best dance partner you ever had.’ 

You didn’t even think he’d remember something he said himself back then. Personally, you thought it was just his guilt from pissing you off or sleepiness from dancing too much at prom that was talking then. But the moment the dance floor was opened at the rather extravagant cherry blossoms-themed wedding, the best man was by your side within seconds after sprinting from his table across the wedding hall. 

“Y/N!” He called to you as he ran to your table shared with all of your friends, your parents, and a few people from your childhood neighbourhood; his obnoxiously loud voice against the jazz music and his hand raised up above his head to wave at you catching a few guests’ attention. “Y/N!” 

Felix was about to ask you to dance after Seungmin and Kira as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin paired up, your hand already up in the air to accept his, but Jisung was quick to swat your hand away from the other boy as soon as he arrived. “Sorry, Lix, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N away!” He dramatically interrupted in between tired pants, flashing the confused Felix with a sheepish grin. “I owe Y/N a very important dance!” 

“What dance?” You raised a brow, bringing your hand away from his and back to your lap. 

“The one—t-the one I promised you that night a-at prom.” He sighed, finally catching his breath after. “I promised you then, remember?” 

From the corner of your eye, Felix’s eyes lightened up in excitement as he clasped his hands together and cooed. “Aww!” He giggled, making you and Jisung turn to him after. “If that’s the case, then why should I stop you two? I’ll just see if Chan or Changbin aren’t dancing yet!” 

“But Lix!” 

The other boy’s quick to wave his hands to you snappily, shaking his head. “No buts, Y/N! You two go and do that cute promised dance thing you have going on! I’ll be fine!” He assured, much to your protests. “I knew something was going on!” 

“Nothing’s going o—“

“Thanks, Lix! I owe you, dude.” Jisung pats Felix’s shoulder appreciatively, turning to you after and taking your hand once more to pull you up into a stand. “Now, come on! My brother said he has my songs on queue!” 

He whisked you away before you could protest further, taking you to the dance floor just as the music slows down to his own song. “Right on time!” He even exclaimed happily before placing his other hand on your waist. You’ve heard this one before as the one he would always sing at the Open Mic Nights at university. “Now, to make it up to you...” 

Jisung didn’t dance so bad. He was still playful, making it a game between the two of you on who can step on the other’s feet the most when the next songs became more upbeat, but he was serious when he wanted to, sheepishly apologizing that it took him long to make it up to you. 

“I didn’t even remember it until you brought it up tonight.” You assured with a laugh as the song slowed down once more. Without even realizing it, you’ve danced all of the songs in the two-hour setlist with him. “I didn’t think it was important.” 

“Well, it is to me.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he can, visibly looking nervous towards the end. When you quietly asked him why, his only response was, “Because that night I really realized that even when I liked annoying you, I don’t like pissing you off so much to the point that you hate me.” 

And at that moment you realized that Jisung has some way of catching you off-guard so randomly. “W-What? I mean—” You wanted to joke something along the lines of ‘wow, took you long enough,’ but the words ultimately never came out as Jisung chuckled at your baffled expression. 

“I mean, trying to piss each other off, joking around, competing over studies—those are our things.” He confessed sincerely, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand as the song progressed. “But I said something that night thinking of it as a joke and not really considering the thought that it would piss you off so much because you were so stressed already. I didn’t like pushing you on edge like that—” 

“You already apologized and everything, it’s all g—” 

“—But most importantly, I really wanted to dance with you then, regardless of the incident.” He breathed out before you could even finish your thought, rendering you speechless for the second time. “Maybe I’ve always liked you then, maybe even before that; either way, I really wanted to have one moment where we weren’t fighting or anything—and, surprisingly, even when we’ve started hanging out better, I still want one. I still like you.” 

You immediately stopped dancing, bumping shoulders with a stranger behind you which Jisung instinctively responded to by pulling your frozen form to the side of the dance floor. You pursed your lips once to speak, only managing to fumble out, “Y-You...you liked me?” 

“I said I like you. Present tense.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, hands dropping to his sides immediately at sensing how tense and awkward the atmosphere suddenly became. “And I like you the way Seungmin dotes on Kira and Minho’s always protective of Bora and Jeoyeon’s been helplessly pining over Chan, those kinds in case you’re going to pull that how exactly do I like you bullshit you learned from Minho before again.”  

“I—r-really?” Was your only response as you tried your best to process this revelation. “You like me? W-Why—why me?” 

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yes, Y/N, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” He teased as casually as he could muster with his growing nervousness. “And why you? I don’t know, either, but I think I can start remembering as far back as the time you teased me at the playground that I push like a sissy but didn’t look for another playmate anyway. I’ve always liked you...just a little bit more now that I’m much more sure of a lot of things.” 

It was all so overwhelming, honestly, but you belatedly muster up a laugh as he recalled such a distant memory from you. “Y-You...God, Han Jisung, you’re insufferable!” You mumbled under your breath, hitting him by his arm with one hand while the other covered your mouth. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“So, does that mean you like me too?” 

“I let you dance with me the entire night. What do you think?” You scoffed playfully, gaze softening as you looked up at his relieved smile and bright eyes. “You did push like a sissy at the playground when we were kids, though.” 

Age twenty. When Minho bought his roommate flowers to their last cheerdance competition and asked her to be his girlfriend, Hyunjin dared you to one-up the upperclassman and wear Jisung’s jersey to his own final game of the year.

“Well, you did give him that talk over dating someone who appreciates the things he loves.” Eunha told you over video call with the rest of your friend group on the day Hyunjin brought up the idea. Before you could even protest and repeatedly assure that you do support everything Jisung does, she was quick to add, “Yeah, I know you do appreciate them but I just think it’s fitting now! He’s been making a lot of effort for you lately and didn’t you say you wanted to do something in return? Maybe you can finally ask him what you’ve been wanting to ask for a while now too...” 

You hated how she was right and very convincing about it. Since the wedding earlier in the year, Jisung has been nothing short of nicer to you. From actually hanging out with you at the library now (and not just to wingman Hyunjin or dote on Jeongin), buying you food randomly, to letting you vent your own worries and unwind from school by playing soccer with you or playing you music with his guitar, he’s been ‘making it up to you’ with quality time and sweet gestures; the only catch is that he hasn’t officially asked you out like he would. 

The two of you aren’t exactly the direct words type of people but it’s still nice to have some sort of affirmation. 

With a few more coaxing on her part combined with Seungmin’s own persuasiveness nagging at you in real time, your friends eventually got Jeongin to steal one of Jisung’s spare soccer jerseys later that day to give to you for his game on the following Saturday. 

To say that Jisung was flustered is an understatement to say the least. Quickly catching you at the very front of the bleachers before the game started, he waved at you and the rest of your cheering friend group shyly, approaching only when the coach gave him permission to. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” He snickered with even more sheepishness at seeing you up close, holding the jersey he wears by its shoulders before gesturing to the identical one you wear. The two of you stand by the stairs leading down to the field, on the side where you aren’t in the way of passing players and staff. “The jersey—maybe the one wearing it too.” 

You held up the bouquet of daisies in your hands close to your face, effectively hiding the heat rising up to your neck. “I bought your favorite flowers too.” You pointed out next before gesturing to your friends sitting around you. “Those smartasses dared me to outdo Minho’s stunt at the cheerdance competition which I still think is dumb since you were in on that one but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” 

“Just seeing you is already enough.” He added with a flirty wink, making you cringe teasingly. “The jersey’s a really big bonus, though. I think I can score everything on this one because of you.” 

“You better or else this jerseys’ going to be mine now.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shook his head immediately, pulling you closer by the waist in his now ritual good luck hug from you and placing the flowers back on your sides. “I don’t mind calling you mine too.” 

The cheesy pick-up line makes the two of you laugh. Either way, you push yourself to not let go of him too soon. “...ew, Jisung!” You hit his back instead, heaving a sigh of relief anyway before finally pulling away from his hug to send him off. That’s enough confirmation now. “Now, go win this game and get it over with. We’re still on for movies later, right?” 

“Yep.” He assured, patting your head affectionately before boldly leaning closer again for a kiss. “I’m looking forward to it!” 

[lawslessons]

Not So Tough Now, Huh?

Not So Tough Now, Huh? (Zoro x Luffy)

Hello! This is inspired by the amazing @xruffyx drawing of Zoro and Luffy where Zoro is holding Luffy up by his shirt. I saw that drawing and thought of a cute and somewhat spicy little one shot to honor the amazing art piece! Please check them out and send them all my love xx

https://xruffyx.tumblr.com/post/636611591540998144/yeah-more-zolu-redraws-because-i-do-not-know-how

Warnings: Teasing, Suggestive Behavior

Synopsis: Challenge accepted. Luffy, Chopper and Usopp decide to see who can manage to wake up the swordsman first. But little do they know that Zoro has a little trick up his sleeve for his captain.  

No one knew what exactly spurred Luffy’s mood, and they were all too amused to even ask why this was happening. But it seemed to be a rather average, uneventful day on the Thousand Sunny when Luffy came to the middle of the lawn deck and started to smile. 

“I want to play a game!” Luffy laughed. Chopper and Usopp both looked at each other in excitement, they both smiled and looked at their captain with stars in their eyes. 

“A game? What game?” Chopper asked as he clapped his hooves together and moved to be standing on top of a box to be more at Luffy’s height. Luffy sported his signature toothy smile and rested his hands against the box. 

“Zoro is sleeping, right?” Luffy asked. Usopp rose a brow and looked around the deck. Nami and Robin were both talking to one another, steam was coming from the kitchen so he knew Sanji was in there. A slight hum could he heard too, so he knew Franky was in his workshop while Brook worked on orchestrating a new piece. 

“I think? He’s supposed to be watching out of the crow’s nest to see if any ships are getting close,” Usopp explained, but Zoro sleeping came as a surprise to no one. “But Luffy, what does that have to do with your game?” Usopp asked his grinning captain. 

“Perfect! It’s everything. I wanna see who can wake Zoro up first,” Luffy explained with a cheeky smirk. Usopp and Chopper both felt the blood drain from their cheeks at that suggestion. 

“Luffy, isn’t that dangerous? Zoro may be upset by that,” Chopper pointed out, but he was honestly just saying that out of fear for himself. Luffy simply laughed away the concern and shook his head. 

“It’ll be fine! Come on, it’ll be fun!” Luffy said before he grabbed both of his friends by the hand and moved to run up to the crow’s nest. When they were there, Luffy pointed to the door and nodded. “He’s asleep.” He stated. 

“Shouldn’t you be more upset by that?” Usopp scoffed to which Luffy shook his head. 

“No one is here! It’s ok,” He assured his friends before he pointed to Chopper. “You’re first.” Luffy said to the small creature. Chopper gasped and moved to hide behind Usopp’s leg. 

“Me? Why me?!” Chopper asked as he glared up at the captain. Luffy shrugged and started to scratch at his chest. “Because you always have the best ideas.” That seemed to be all Chopper needed to snap out of his funk. He smiled and started to dance around and giggle. 

“It’s not like you saying that makes me happy or anything, idiot!” Chopper giggled to which Usopp sighed. 

“You’re too easy...”

After a couple minutes of thinking, Chopper opened the door rather loudly with an armful of medical paraphernalia in his arms. “Oi, Zoro! I need your help! Someone’s dying!” Chopper exclaimed. The swordsman didn’t seem to notice Chopper being in the room, he continued to snore and relax under the afternoon sun. “You’re dying...?” Chopper tried next with no avail. He stood there for a minute before he pulled away, sighing. “He won’t wake up!” Chopper complained as he put his supplies back in his backpack and looked over at Usopp and Luffy. 

“Usopp, you’re next!” Luffy said as he tried to shove Usopp into the room. Nearly on the verge of tears, Usopp grabbed at the doorframe and looked back at Luffy. 

“I can’t Luffy, I have an incurable disease known as I-am-scared-Zoro-will-kill-me-if-I-wake-him-up disease!” Usopp proclaimed as he started to use his feet against the door frame to stop Luffy from pushing him in. Luffy pouted and pulled back after that. 

“I thought you were the bravest one here,” Luffy mumbled, and within seconds, Usopp was away from the doorframe and standing tall and proud in front of them. Usopp smirked and ran his thumb and pointed finger along his jaw until it met at his chin. 

“You’re right about that, Luffy. I am the bravest man in the world, the conquer of all seas, Captain Usopp!” Usopp declared as he stuck his hand up in the air and quickly brought it down in a fist. Chopper gasped in excitement and clapped his little hands together. 

“Amazing!” Chopper praised to which Usopp smirked. 

“I shall be the one who wakes him up! No one else can beat me!” Usopp said as he went into the room with a brave look on his face. But the moment he laid eyes on Zoro, his entire bravado fell. “Oh.” he said in realization. And before he could back out, the door behind him was shut and he heard giggling. Panicking, Usopp began to bang his fists against the door. “Oi, Luffy! Chopper! Open the door!” He loudly whispered as his banging became as panicked as his voice. “Please! He’s going to kill me!” Usopp pleaded. After a minute of deliberation between Chopper and Luffy, and more begging from Usopp, the door was finally opened and Usopp fell down with an unsatisfactory thud. “I am never doing that again!” Usopp stated as he pushed his laughing captain away from him. 

“It’s your turn now Luffy!” Chopper said with a big smile on his face. Luffy didn’t look phased, he smiled and looked at the now closed door. 

“I can do it,” Luffy said before he walked inside of the room. Within an instant, the door was closed on him and he heard Usopp and Chopper snickering behind the door. Luffy looked around and saw Zoro resting his back against the wall and sleeping. His soft snores filled the room and Luffy slowly approached the beast in front of him. But just as he was about to grab Zoro’s shoulder, a hand met with Luffy’s wrist and tightened around the small joint.

Zoro groggily opened an eye and looked up at his captain while he yawned and tried to shake the sleep out of himself. 

“Zoro?” Luffy asked in surprise as the swordsman stood up and towered over the petite male in front of him. 

“I heard you were trying to wake me up,” Zoro said with his deep, raspy, tired voice. Luffy felt a strange shock go through his body just by hearing Zoro talk, it made his heart begin to race. Unbeknownst to Luffy, Zoro was able to feel it. Because of the hand on Luffy’s wrist, Zoro was able to feel that slight rise in his captain’s heartbeat. He had to admit that it made him feel a little proud, he didn’t even know he could have an effect like this over his precious captain. He was going to have some fun with this.   

“Why did you want to wake me up, captain?” Zoro asked as he leaned in closer to his captain and smirked down at him. Luffy looked at Zoro with wide, searching eyes and felt his pulse increase just a little more at the way Zoro was addressing him. Luffy was stunned silent, his lips slightly parted when he looked up at the swordsman. 

Zoro chuckled and gently popped his thumb into his captain’s mouth and felt his tongue and warm mouth before he pulled away. He was still tired and somewhat annoyed for being woken up, but seeing Luffy like this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Luffy’s cheeks turned red as he tried to pull away. But he wasn’t really trying, something deep inside of him kept him close to Zoro and kept him interested. 

“Why did you want to wake me up?” Zoro asked, this time he didn’t bother to hide that annoyance he had towards Luffy, after all he always prided himself in how long his naps were, being interrupted wasn’t something he liked no matter the circumstances. “Ever since Chopper came in here, I’ve been awake, I’ve just been waiting for you,” Zoro felt Luffy’s heart drum rhythmically under his thumb and he smirked and gently traced the vein that was there. Luffy’s breath became shallow and the captain looked confused with himself and why he was reacting like this towards Zoro. Maybe Zoro wasn’t really that annoyed anymore.  

“T-The reason was -- “ Luffy began before he was interrupted by Zoro grabbing Luffy by his shirt and lifting him up so they were eye level.  Zoro stared at Luffy and tightened his grip, the bags under his eyes were evident. 

“You got something to say, Captain Bastard?” Zoro asked as he pulled Luffy closer to him just to make the poor captain that much more embarrassed. Luffy looked away with red painting his cheeks and he started to squirm to leave Zoro’s hold. Zoro smirked and moved to use his index finger to feel down Luffy’s jaw and down his neck. Zoro drank in Luffy’s soft sounds and devoured the small groan that came when he applied pressure on the sensitive spot on his neck. 

“N-no, sorry...” Luffy said before Zoro finally put Luffy down and eyed him. Luffy didn’t understand what Zoro was doing, but he liked it. The tingles that shot down his spine nearly made his heart jump out of his chest. 

“Better tell them that you won, captain.” Zoro breathed into Luffy’s ear. Luffy softly gasped and reached forward to grab at Max’s shirt in his surprise. This was the exact reaction Zoro was wanting. He smirked at Luffy and gently nudged him away from him. “Or maybe I’m the one that won, you’re not so tough now, huh?” Zoro teased as the flustered captain quickly moved to make his way out of the crow’s nest. With Zoro’s laugh ringing in his ears, Luffy left the crow’s nest and used his hat to partially cover the deep color on his cheeks. 

“Luffy? Are you ok? You’re all red!” Chopper gasped as he reached for his beg and began to rummage through it for some medical supplies. Usopp looked at the captain and then at the swordsman who went back to sleeping. 

“So why were you in there so long?” Usopp asked.

Luffy pulled his hat away and plastered on one of his signature smiles. “I won!” he said as he glanced over at the closed door and felt his pulse race again. Luffy wasn’t even sure if he won, after all, his feelings were all jumbled together and he didn’t know how to sort them out anymore because of Zoro. 

The raspy voice, the hand on his wrist, the thumb in his mouth, him grabbing his shirt, the fingers on his skin. Him whispering in his ear... Luffy felt his chest tighten and a small sigh escaped his lips. How could he win if he was still so confused? Maybe that was what Zoro was plotting. 

“I didn’t win.” Luffy suddenly said. 

“We know,” Usopp teased as he pointed to the door. Luffy tensed, did they find out what happened between him and Zoro? “Zoro is still asleep, so I think that he won.” Usopp pointed out. Luffy had to admit that Usopp was right, but his reasoning was completely different for that. 

“Yeah, Zoro won.” Luffy agreed with a flustered smile. Unbeknownst to him, the swordsman sported a cocky grin at hearing Luffy’s words through the door. Oh yeah, he was winning. 

[monsoonblooms12]

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

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

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

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

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

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

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

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

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

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

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[st-just]

A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne 

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers. 

Or, well, housed. 

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent. 

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet. 

Faction of Note: The Hierophant 

    Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant. 

    No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile. 

    The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy. 

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar 

    Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those). 

    And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow. 

    One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again. 

Faction of Note: The Hellworks 

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck. 

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her. 

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with. 

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide. 

Faction of Note: The Dreamers 

    There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing. 

    Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea. 

    No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea. 

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company 

    When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company. 

    Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in. 

    Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home. 

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way. 

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade 

    Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea. 

    Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes. 

    While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’. 

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

    Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time. 

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something). 

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out. 

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears. 

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds 

    The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process. 

    While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter. 

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice. 

Faction of Note: Regate Prison 

    Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually. 

    The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient. 

    Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there. 

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

    Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ‘miraculous’ potions and tonics. 

    While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid. 

    The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him. 

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for. 

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

    What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world. 

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories. 

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to. 

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

    Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever. 

    Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit. 

    Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough. 

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long. 

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over. 

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities. 

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach. 

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft. 

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century. 

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with. 

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore. 

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

[skai6]

Hey, I saw your post asking for prompts :) I was thinking slight angst, with Jaskier trying to (not so) subtly let Geralt know of his feelings for him, but it doesn't work till Jaskier loses hope :) Happy ending, of course, cuz I have the angst endurance of a 5yo :)

Thanks for taking the time to do this :)

I didn’t know where I was going with this when I started but it checks all of the above! (Emphasis on Angst with happy ending)

------

It started with:

“You know, Geralt, I might have a thing for white hair and big swords.”

To which came the reply:

“Good for you.”

And Jaskier hasn’t stopped ever since. He would throw in a word or two at any given chance, compliment, tease, flirt, anything to get the witcher’s attention, to drill into that thick skull of his just how desperately in love Jaskier was with him. 

That, however, was easier said than done.

Two decades of trial and failure, Jaskier learned the hard way that it was perhaps not that Geralt was slow-witted, an idiot, a complete and utter fool, that on the contrary, the other might have understood the context, picked up the hints, but simply did not care enough to reciprocate. 

And oh did that realization hurt.

They spent their days on the road and Jaskier spent every second of it sulking. He was terribly mad, not at Geralt, but at himself, for being so blinded by the promise of hope that he did not see reason for the past twenty fucking years. Gods, if anyone was a fool out of the two, it had to be him.

Give it another decade or two, he told himself sarcastically, I’ll eventually get over the biggest rip-off of a fucking lifetime.

And when Jaskier was mad, he did not hesitate to burst out at every given chance. So, one evening, when Geralt returned from a hunt two hours later than planned, he found Jaskier at the inn’s rented chamber, waiting for him. Jaskier could smell it a mile away, the outrageous mixture of liquor and perfume, and that was it. The perfect opportunity - his chance to let out some steam. 

After twenty fucking years, he deserved it.

“Where in the gods have you been?” he yelled, standing with his hands on his hips, as if he had been waiting in that same posture for hours, boiling with the urgent need to start a fight. 

Geralt didn’t flinch at his tone. He clicked the door shut behind and began tiredly uncluttering his armour. 

“Beast’s taken longer to slay.”

And if Jaskier was not angry enough before, the lie did the rest of the work.

“Do I look like an idiot?” he scoffed, “No, really, do I?”

Geralt threw a skeptical gaze his way, said nothing, then returned to rearrange his armour on the dresser and marched to the bed to begin undoing his boots. 

Jaskier stamped after him.

“I’m talking to you, sir!” he yelled, “You can’t just leave me here and come back whenever you please! If you’re taking longer out there you ought to let me know! What am I? Your fucking wife?” 

Geralt grunted, and to Jaskier’s horror, he sounded amused.

“You find this funny? How dare you!” he spat, “And look at me when I’m talking to you!”

On the bed, Geralt kicked off his boots with a sigh and, at last, fixed his golden gaze on him. Calm and collected. To Jaskier - unbelievably infuriating.  

“What’s with you?” he said, “Got a horse’s hoof up your arse? Calm down.”

Jaskier’s anger only spiked.

“Calm down?” His voice raised an octave, and he threw his head back to force out an exaggerated laugh. “Oh dear, oh yes, but of course! How come I haven’t thought of it? The cure to all of my misfortune! Calming the fuck down! He goes out there doing gods know what, never telling me when he returns and I have to remain prettily seated like some fucking ornament, waiting for him. Listen here, you bastard. If there is one person in this room with a horse’s hoof up their arse, that’s you. And that whore of yours you’ve been fucking all night? My condolences to her expectations. She could do so much better than a butcher.”

And that last sentence, like a trigger, kicked Geralt off the bed and standing in an instant. Jaskier physically jolted in his skin when the other walked to him, jaw tight, glare burning with something that was a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Watch your mouth.”

Jaskier’s breath hitched, and the fool, the hopelessly, madly in love fool that he was, couldn’t help himself from answering.

“Or what? You’ll shut me up yourself?”

An irritated grunt. 

“I might.”

The room plunged into heavy, stifling silence. Jaskier could hear his heartbeats resonate in his ears. His anger was not as strong anymore, not when despair and ache and hurt came taking turns inside his heart. He felt his stomach turn. He felt he could cry.

On the outside, he showed none of it. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips curved into an insulting smirk.

“You witchers are all bark and no bite.”

And that was about what has done it.

Jaskier could not tell apart the second in which Geralt’s leg moved and the one in which his back was flattered against the nearest wall. His body kicked out a rush of adrenaline that forced him to send a whimper out in the open. Geralt picked up on his fear, his flaring eyes narrowed, his nose twitched. He was smelling him.

“You’re jealous.”

“Like fuck I a- Mm!”

A rough palm came pressing to his mouth, forcibly shutting him up. Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed. He was not done talking.

“I’ve been picking up hints for a while,” he said, “Racing heartbeats for no fucking reason. Long annoying stares. Whining under the sheets with my name on your lips. I just don’t fucking get it. Why? What are you jealous of?”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he bit the skin that came muffling him. Geralt hissed and pulled away.

“You knew?”

Geralt swallowed.

“I... wasn’t sure what to know.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he barked, tears starting to swarm his eyes, “Geralt, I’ve been pining for you for decades and you knew? And you - and you did fucking nothing?”

Geralt’s hold of him loosened and Jaskier took his chance to grip him by the collar of his unlaced tunic and flip them over. To his surprise, Geralt followed willingly, letting himself get overpowered, and landed with his back to the wall, his eyes darting elsewhere, looking as guilty as they came.

“Look at me,” said Jaskier, “Gods fucking dammit, look at me, Geralt!”

Slow, unsure, amber eyes returned to him.

“Why did you never say anything?” Jaskier’s voice broke, and one tear trailed down his left eye. “All these fucking years. You saw me, like a lovestruck fool, looking at you like you’re the sun and the moon and everything beyond and you did nothing. Why? Just tell me, why?”

Geralt’s adam’s apple bobbed. He gritted his teeth in stubborn hesitance until Jaskier’s eyes fell down, and his grip on his collar began to loosen. That was when he came gripping his wrist, holding it where it was, against his chest. With a broken look of feeble hope, Jaskier lifted up his gaze at him.

“Do I ...” His voice broke. “Do I even matter to you?”

“You do.” 

"Don’t just say what I want to -”

“You matter, and that’s why. That’s fucking why.”

Jaskier didn’t know what to say to that, and Geralt continued.

“How do you think twenty years by your side felt like? Twenty years watching you live, age, grow. There’s only so much time can give. Until it rips it all away.”

Jaskier’s tears ceased. His eyes now bearing confusion and worry.

“I can’t have you,” said Geralt, voice tight, lip trembling. “Not when I know someday, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, but someday, I will have to let you go.”

And at those words, Jaskier, not knowing what got into him, burst into laughter. 

Under Geralt’s wary stare, he laughed loudly, whole-heartedly, until he could no longer contain it, until his cheeks hurt from the pain, and he had to cling into the other’s body for balance. Until the tears of sadness were completely replaced by tears of happiness.

Happiness to know that his feelings were not unrequited. 

“Jaskier...”

“Geralt, you fool.”

He didn’t need to speak the words he meant to convey. He completely and utterly gave in, right then and there, cupped the other’s face and kissed him. His lips tasted of cheap wine and hidden desires. It felt like bringing life back into a body that had long been depraved. He had watched the witcher kiss many women, and never, never had he groaned so desperately, so sweetly before in his life.

And Jaskier wanted to believe it was true, all of it.

"You’re afraid I’ll die?” he mouthed shortly after pulling back, the scent of the other already clinging to his nostrils, something that was pure Geralt, something that reminded him of his own fearlessness. “Afraid I’ll leave you alone? Well, fucking hell, Geralt, we’re all dying. We’re all deteriorating, day after day, waiting for that sweet death to take us. And so what do we do? What do we make of the life we are given? We cry, moan, complain. We never live. We never live, Geralt. I might die before you, but for gods’ love I want to die a fulfilled man. I want to have kissed and loved and fucked the one I love to my heart’s content before I get to lay in my death’s bed satisfied and happy. That’s life, Geralt. That’s it. You either live it, or you die trying. And I want to try.”

He placed a soft kiss on Geralt’s bottom lip and whispered:

“With you.”

He couldn’t witness the expression on his face after that. He was taken by arms so strong he thought he could suffocate. Jaskier loved every bit of that sweet suffocation. So tight was his hold and so everlasting he thought time was barely floating by. Until it eventually loosened and calloused fingers came grazing his cheek. 

“I want to try, too,” he said, “I want you, Jaskier. Always have.”

The look he bore, so vulnerable, so true, so bare, had Jaskier understand. He still was uncertain, still hesitant, still unsure. 

And perhaps it would take another decade for him to be convinced that love was timeless, that it didn’t matter if death took one of them away after they have loved each other so strongly and dearly and passionately. 

But Jaskier was patient. And he would wait an eternity if it meant Geralt would finally let himself be loved.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Throwing You Over His Shoulder [Request]

A/N: Namjoon’s has hints of smut.

Seokjin:

"I've had enough of it Jin! It's always the same story! I'm done!" You yelled walking over to the front door of your shared apartment, you and your boyfriend Jin were having the same fight you'd been having all week and it was getting on your last nerve. Neither of you could remember how it started but it always ended the same way, he would accuse you of using him for money or cheating and you would be left crying in the corner of the apartment but not this time. You were through with him acting like this towards you,

"Where are you going to go? It's pouring out." You didn't care though, you swung the door open and walked out into the pouring rain even though Jin was screaming for you to come back into the house you persisted forward not giving into him.

"You'll get sick!" He cried out watching as your body began to shiver, you were in nothing but a white t-shirt and some leggings you were going to get really sick if you didn't get home quick.

"Y/n!" You could tell he meant it but it didn't stop you from walking down the street what did however was Jin running over and standing in front of you.

"If you don't turn around right now I will pick you up." You went to move to the side of him but he followed you and stopped your once again, you could see the cogs inside his head turning and before you knew it the world was upside down and you were being carried in the direction of your apartment.

"Put me down right now!" You screamed hitting his back but he continued to walk with you over his shoulder until he got into the apartment where he put you down on the floor safely and stared at you, you were both soaking wet from the rain that was heavily raining outside.

"You're not getting sick!" He yelled making you stare at him, you hated that he was pretending to care about you.

"What do you even care? I'm cheating and using you for money remember!" He sighed at you and realised that the fight was starting to get to you, you had tears rushing down your cheeks.

"You know I don't really think that..."

"Sounds like You do when you say it." You whispered and he moved closer to you, cupping your face in his hand and turning your head to look up at him.

"I'm just stressed-"

"That's not an excuse Jin, I would never ever, hurt you." You promised him and he bit on his lip feeling terrible for everything he was putting you through just because he was stressed with work.

"Come on...We'll go have a bubble bath and order food in." You nodded in agreement knowing you could never leave him, you loved him too much to just leave him.

Yoongi:

"You have to leave at some point," Yoongi said that morning when he came down to find you sitting on his sofa in sweatpants and one of his shirts, he was your best friend. You'd been best friends since you were kids and you'd taken refuge in his house after a nasty breakup with your ex and you ever wanted to be seen again.

"No I don't, I was thinking I could die on your sofa and you could just bury me out in the yard like a dog?" Yoongi had had enough of hearing you whine over a dumb boy who didn't mean shit anyway, he was sick of hearing you cry over someone whose opinion shouldn't matter to you.

"You leave me no other option." You stared at him as he walked over to you bending down a little before you were lifted from the sofa and placed over his shoulder and began carrying you in the direction of the front door.

"Min Yoongi put me down right now," You said in an authoritative tone but he continued walking and he opened the door walking you down the steps and over to his waiting car, where he opened the door and sat you inside.

"What are you doing?!" You asked staring at him but he got in beside you and told the driver to start his ride to work,

"I'm getting you out of the house, you can't spend your whole time crying over someone that doesn't care about you." It was the harsh reality and you knew you were going to have to face it sooner or later, you would just rather it be later rather than right there and then. Yoongi smirked to himself knowing you were going to be sitting in his studio all day and that he didn't mind at all, he would spend all his time with you if he could.

Hoseok:

Hobi was downstairs with the boys having a nice meal while you were upstairs trying to have a peaceful shower, you'd gone around to the dorms to see your boyfriend after work and you decided you needed a shower before you ate with them. You were wrapped in a towel about to step into the shower when you came face to face with a huge spider,

"As I was saying-" Hoseok was cut off when he heard you let out a blood-curdling scream and he jumped up from the chair, rushing over to the stair where he raced up them to find you standing in the bathroom in a towel, standing on top of the toilet seat.

"What!?" He panicked thinking someone had gotten into the house at the way you were screaming, you pointed over at the shower shakily and he frowned opening the curtain to see a spider sitting in the bathtub.

"Really?!" He asked staring from the spider to you and you nodded almost in tears from the spider being in the same room as you, he walked over to you and lifted you over to hang on his shoulder.

"Hobi!" You screamed as he carried you down the staircase,

"Damsel in distress, move out of the way!" You squealed as he walked you through the living room where the boys were all watching the display. Hobi continued carrying you over his shoulder until he got you into the downstairs bathroom and then he checked for spiders, returning to your side and telling you it was free for you to enter,

"You're such an idiot." You giggled kissing his cheek as you walked into the bathroom, holding onto his wrist.

"Will you go get my clothes though please." You pleaded knowing your clothes were still in the other bathroom,

"Anything for a damsel."

Namjoon:

You'd done nothing but tease Namjoon all night and it was starting to get to him, it was the end of the night and you were in your shared apartment getting ready to head to bed.

"I'm so tired." You lied faking a yawn and kicking off your heels right as you stepped through the front door placing them onto the shoe rack as you bent down in front of Namjoon, but Namjoon didn't find you amusing one bit he was more annoyed with you now you were sticking your ass in the air right in front of him.

"Tired? Thanks to you and your little stunt I was walking around with this all night." He pressed his hard-on against your ass pulling your hips back against him and you resisted the urge to moan out from the feeling of him being that close to you and in this kind of position right in front of the front door of your apartment.

"Sleepy." You whined out but he slapped your ass forcing you to turn around, he stared down at you before bending down and throwing you over his shoulder, he then made his way up the staircase with you on his shoulder screaming for him to put you down but with every noise you made he smacked your ass making you giggle out.

"Shut up, you've done enough teasing tonight." You bit down on your lip knowing you were in for it but not complaining in the slightest.

Jimin:

The snow was everywhere there was no way to get away from it unless you stayed inside the apartment that you shared with your boyfriend of two years, Jimin, who was determined to get you outside in it. Calling it the magical blanket that everyone should experience,

"It's cold and wet. No." You said as he stared at you, he was dressed up in winter gear waiting for you to go outside with him, he'd gotten you both some matching gloves and scarves and was determined to get you outside in it.

"Please! It'll be fun." He pleaded looking at you with huge puppy dog eyes but it wasn't going to work, you were freezing without evening being out there there was nothing he could say or do to make you move from that sofa,

"No Jimin, you go out. I'll stay here and get some warm food ready for when you've had enough." You got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen, getting yourself a cup down so you could make yourself a steaming cup of hot chocolate but Jimin had other ideas, he came into the room and took the cup away from you. He placed it down on the table and then swiped you up so you were hanging over his shoulder, he began rushing quickly in the direction of the front door running out of it and straight over to a huge pile of snow dropping you down into it listen to you scream at him for it but he didn't care, he was just excited you were out in the snow with him.

"J-Jimin." You stuttered but you were met by a snowball to the face and you began shivering more, making yourself a snowball to attack him back with, if it was a snowball fight he wanted it was a snowball fight he was going to get.

Taehyung:

Taehyung was beyond annoyed with you, you were refusing to leave the dorms because he'd yelled at you for now knowing what you wanted to eat so you got into a small bicker about going out to dinner and he confirmed that you were going out but now you were being petty with him. Deciding you didn't want to go out to eat with someone who was going to yell at you the way he did because you didn't know what to eat.

"Y/n, come on." But you stood your ground looking around the dorms for something to distract yourself with, you were never good at staying mad with Tae and you knew once he started trying to make you laugh it would be over for you and you would start along with him and he would think it was okay.

"If you don't come with me willingly I'll force you to." You stared at him and he walked over to you so you backed off but he only stepped forward again bending down and picking you up over his shoulder in one move, walking over to the door and almost hitting your head on every wall you walked past.

"TAE!" You screamed as he pretended to drop you but he had a hold on you and h wasn't going to let go easily, he shut and locked the front door of the dorms and walked you over to the car.

"Are you going to get in on your own or do I need to baby you all night?" You struggled out of his arms and got into the car folding your arms over your chest as you tried not to laugh at the fact that he'd just carried you out of the apartment over his shoulder and into the street for people to see.

Jungkook:

Jungkook had heard you on the phone with your friends a couple of nights before talking about a scene from one of your favourite dramas where the love interests were walking along the streets, and the boyfriend lifted his girlfriend over her shoulder to carry her over the road because she was taking too long. He knew that he wanted to try it with you and your usual date night was the perfect time for it to happen, you were crossing one of the main roads in Seoul when he suddenly turned to you and threw you over his shoulder, you let out a squeal making people stare over at you and you giggled hiding your blushing face in his back as he walked you across the street before he put you down on the floor,

"Was it as romantic as you'd pictured it?" You shook your head placing your hand over it and laughing, you were extremely dizzy from the head rush and sudden giggle fit you'd had when you were up on his shoulder.

"Yes." You giggled moving out of the way of people that were trying to get to where you were standing and he smiled at you, cupping your face in his hands.

"There is one more thing I wanted to try." You looked at him and he put his hands under your arms, recreating his favourite scene from a movie he'd always wanted to do. Lifting you up by your legs so your hands were resting on his shoulders, you’d seen the movie enough times to know what he was doing and it only made you smile at him he turned you around like they did in the movie before you lent down, cupping his face and kissing him softly ignoring the looks you were getting from passers by. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdpkdN18bu0 (The kiss)

Tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @btsiguess-kpop

[charincharge]

Person A and Person B are co-workers who hate each other. They’re always competing with each other at work and they’re always getting into arguments. Then one day Person A is leaving an appointment with their therapist when they happen to see Person B waiting to see the same therapist in the lobby. I think one is perfect for rowaelin.

This was silly but fun. Word Count: 1,757

Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, a horrible mannerism she’d picked up from her least favorite person. She could see her boss bite back a smirk as he noticed Aelin’s mirrored position from across the table. Aelin leaned back, removing her hand from her nose, refusing to have anything in common with the man who made her life a living hell. Fucking Rowan Whitethorn.

When Aelin had first joined Rifthold Marketing, she’d been excited to meet her team. She’d been warned she would be the first female to be hired as a senior account manager, and that it was a bit of a boys’ club. But Aelin could handle herself. She was fierce and opinionated and refused to be bowled over by any sexist asshole. But it turned out she didn’t need to be worried, the team of managers, who referred to themselves as The Cadre, invited her to their weekly happy hour her first day on the job, welcoming her with open arms.

Well. All, except one.

Rowan Whitethorn was a prick extraordinaire. He scoffed as Aelin sipped her chardonnay at their happy hour, frowning into his beer unhappily at her presence, and he hadn’t warmed to her since. It’d been four months, and every day he’d made Aelin’s life a living hell. Which is why for the life of her, she could not understand why Dorian, the company VP had asked them to work together on a new account pitch.

“This is insane, Dorian,” Rowan grumbled from his side of the table, his fingers ever present on the bridge of his nose, between his furrowed brow.

“As much as I hate agreeing with him,” Aelin said, clearing her throat. “Rowan is right.”

“I am?” he asked, straightening up slightly.

“Of course,” Aelin scoffed. “Us working together is ridiculous. I have an existing relationship with the account. Orynth Hotel Group is only taking the meeting because of me. They want to rebrand with me. Rowan has no business pitching whatever nonsense ideas he has to them.”

“Except Rowan also has an existing relationship with the client,” Rowan said, speaking of himself in the third person. It was something he did all too frequently, and it made Aelin’s skin itch every time.

“The existing relationship should not count if it’s not professional,” Aelin jeered, and Rowan’s lips curled into a sneer as his fist pounded on the table. “Who is she? An ex? You screw your way into all your accounts?”

“Excuse me?” Rowan gaped. “Dor, come on, she can’t say that. Not only is it not true,” he ground out. “But it’s grounds for harassment. I’ve worked with Maeve on three campaigns, and she specifically reached out to tell me she’d just joined Orynth.”

Rowan glared at his boss, who looked far too amused at his discomfort. Dorian sighed loudly.

“Which is why I need you to work together,” he said, giving the pair a small smile. “Orynth is a huge account, and we would be idiots to lose out because you two couldn’t come up with a cohesive pitch. I know I can count on my two best account managers to come up with something spectacular, yes?” He paused and looked at them. “By Friday, please.”

Aelin groaned and slumped back into her chair, nodding feebly at Dorian as he left the two in the conference room.

“Coffee?” Aelin offered, hoping to thaw the icy glare from Rowan’s eyes, but it hardened even more as he shook his head.

“While you waste time on that, I’ll gather my notes for you.”

Aelin tried her very hardest not to roll her eyes as she made her way across the hall to pour herself a cup of coffee. She could get through this. It was one week of her life. Just one fucking week where she’d have to spend every minute of her day with Rowan. She paused. Thank gods she had therapy tonight. Her therapist had heard far toto much about the infamous Rowan Whitethorn, and she had a feeling she’d be hearing another earful tonight.

When she made her way back into the conference room, Rowan had spread out a series of boards he’d drawn up across the table. The intricate pitch proved he’d already put a lot of work into it, but Aelin had done the same prepping for this meeting. She knew it was going to be a long battle between them. As she glanced at the boards, she couldn’t help but admire some of them. She hated that he was actually pretty talented. If only his attitude didn’t suck so badly, they might actually be a pretty great team.

“So?” Rowan asked expectantly as Aelin took a sip of her steaming mug.

“Your illustrations are beautiful…”

“But,” he ground out between his clenched teeth.

“But,” Aelin continued. “Orynth has worked incredibly hard to launch themselves as a luxury hotel brand. Cozy, family stay doesn’t exactly say – luxury to me.”

“I don’t know,” Rowan countered. “Taking time off work. Having a family. Sharing a meal. Feels like a luxury to me.” His eyes were suddenly sad, and Aelin felt slightly uncomfortable seeing it. She looked down at her coffee and when she looked back up, his eyes were back to their usual cold glare.  “I suppose you have something much better?” he asked, his voice defensive with sarcasm.

“In fact…” Aelin laid out her own papers. Her boards weren’t anything close to Rowan’s meticulously drawn illustrations, but they got the point across. Rowan’s eyes flicked across them quickly, and she could see the eye roll he barely restrained.

“What?” she snapped.

“It’s just… sex?” he scoffed. “It’s so overdone. This isn’t a seedy Vegas hotel for a forbidden affair.”  

“No, it’s… a staycation for an overworked couple who deserve time to relax. Away from their family. Time for themselves. Between sheets or otherwise. The luxury of being yourself.” Aelin used her best pitch voice and watched as Rowan barked out a loud laugh.

“You think that’s going to sell?”

“You’re infuriating!” Aelin said.

“You’re not much better yourself, Ace,” he spat, using Dorian’s nickname for her.

“Fine,” Aelin sighed. “Let’s scrap them both.”

“Fine,” Rowan agreed, pushing all the papers off the table and making room for new scratch. She was in for a long night.

Luckily, at seven on the dot, Aelin called it for both of them. They’d made a list of general areas to explore and a few sub headers without murdering each other. She deemed that extreme progress.

“Where you going?” Rowan asked as she gathered her things. “Hot date?” he asked, glancing at the clock.

Aelin snorted, thinking of her weekly date with her therapist. “Something like that,” she answered.

Rowan stretched, clearly annoyed. “I would have put in another hour, but who am I to judge? It’s not like we have to pitch something to Dorian in four days.”

Aelin didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, her fury rising up in her as she sped off to therapy.

“I wish I didn’t have to work with him. He’s just… rude,” Aelin concluded for her doctor, who sat listening to her intently. “All the time.”

“And you’re not?” Yrene probed. Aelin rolled her eyes.

“He started it!”

“Aelin,” Yrene sighed. “We’ve talked about this every week for months. Someone needs to be the first to extend an olive branch, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be him.”

“Well, it’s not going to be me, either.”

Yrene gave her a warm smile. “Did you think maybe that you two spar because you’re so similar? Obviously, I only know what you’ve told me, but maybe Rowan needs you to be the first to reach out.”

“Unhelpful session, doc,” Aelin laughed as she stood, the timer beside Yrene beeping softly.

“It’s going to be a stressful week for you, I understand,” Yrene said. “But, you can do it.”

Aelin walked all the way down to her car with Yrene’s affirmations ringing in her head. Should she reach out? Say something kind? It would maybe make this week better. Or maybe not, she sighed.

As Aelin reached for the car door handle, it didn’t open. She dug through her purse only to quickly see her key wasn’t there. She realized she’d left her car key on the arm of Yrene’s couch. She’d been in such an infuriated rush when she got there she must have forgotten to put it back into her purse. Yet another thing Rowan Whitethorn was to blame for.

She stalked back upstairs to the second floor, and saw that the light on Yrene’s door was on, meaning she was already in another session. Damnit. Aelin couldn’t wait around for another forty five minutes while Yrene’s eight o’clock appointment received their therapy.

Tentatively, Aelin knocked on the door. The chatter stopped from inside the office as Yrene opened the door a crack.

“Hi!” Yrene said, her voice high with surprise.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Aelin began, “But I left my car key on your couch.”

“Am I hallucinating?” a voice called from within the office. Aelin would recognize tthat voice anywhere.

“No fucking way…” she mumbled as she pushed the door open wider.

There, on her spot on her favorite couch in the room, sat Rowan.

“Did I conjure you? Said your name three times, and you appear like Bloody Fucking Mary,” he scoffed. “Date went badly?”

“I forgot my key,” Aelin said, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. All those times Aelin had complained about Rowan, and here Rowan was probably doing the exact same thing. Aelin couldn’t bear it.

Rowan’s eyes widened as he realized where Aelin had been. He reached over and grabbed her car key and walked it to her, handing it over.

“You know,” Yrene said softly. “You two are the only clients who sit in that spot.”

“Great,” Rowan sighed. “I’m going to need a new therapist,” verbalizing the thoughts that Aelin had just had.

“No!” Yrene called out as Rowan grabbed his jacket off the couch. “Rowan, don’t…”

“At least I get to keep something this week,” Aelin smirked, putting her key back into her purse. At her smug smile, Rowan growled and stalked back to the couch, plopping down on the opposite side. He flicked Aelin off, and Yrene gave her a soft smile.

“See you next week, Aelin,” she said, closing the door in her face.

No fucking way, thought Aelin. Never again would she be seeing the same therapist as Rowan fucking Whitethorn.

~*~

tag list: 

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@cityofchelsea16

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 3

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​​

Square Field: Sleigh Ride

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Hint of anxiety issues, fluff, fluff, and more tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol Chapter 4 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**  **MASTERLIST**  **BECOME A PATREON**

The last thing you remember from the night before was falling asleep wrapped up in Dean’s arms in the Dean cave. Normally you weren’t one to fall asleep during movie night, but it also wasn’t normal for Dean to be that cuddly either, and you were apparently a lot more worn down from the hunt than you thought you were, not to mention your little self inflicted melt down over Christmas. Your anxiety tended to hit at the world's worst time and take a whole lot out of you when it did, yesterday was no exception. 

When you woke up this morning you were tucked safely in your bed, and you knew you didn’t wake up to get there on your own, meaning Dean must have carried you there and tucked you in after you had fallen asleep. That thought alone made you smile. Dean cared about you enough to carry you in there, and tuck you into your bed after you had fallen asleep on him. No man had ever done that for you before, and you swear your heart grew three sizes in your chest. 

You had always harbored feelings for Dean, but never allowed yourself to think that they could possibly be reciprocated by the famous Winchester. He was a warrior, a hero, and you were just lucky he allowed you into his little band of misfits to hunt with them, and gave you home when you met him years ago hunting a nest of Vampires in Illinois.

You climb out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas Dean had bought for you the night before, and made your way into the kitchen in search of coffee. You were surprised to find Dean standing next to the coffee pot with a cup in hand, fully dressed, showered, and ready for the day; normally Dean was a bit of a late sleeper. 

“Morning,” he said brightly, as if he’d been up waiting for hours, quickly grabbing a mug for you and filling it with coffee before you could even cross the floor. 

“Morning,” you tell him with a smile as you take the steaming mug from him, and make your way over to the table to sit down. “What’s got you up so early?” you asked him, and he chuckles as he sits to work on your breakfast. 

“Early? Sweetheart it’s almost noon,” he says without even turning around to face you, cracking an egg over the pan in front of him. “I was starting to think you were going to skip today and just stay in bed. I was a little hurt that I didn’t get an invitation,” he played as he pulled bacon from the pack and added it to the pan in front of him with the eggs. 

You blush at his antics and hide behind your coffee cup as Sam comes striding into the room, a book in hand, and a cup of to refill with coffee in another. He didn’t so much as give the two of you a second glance as he refilled his coffee up and started to track back out to the library with his nose firmly implanted in a book. Dean watched his brother as he gave the bacon on final flip and plated up your food before rolling his eyes and turning to you, shaking his head as he delivered your breakfast to you. 

“Boy’s lucky he found Eileen, if not I don’t think he’d ever get laid,” he grumbles as he takes a seat across from you and you stifle the laugh that threatens to fall from your lips with a mouth full of bacon. 

“Leave him be,” you scold, and Dean’s eyes sparkle a little with mischief when he playfully runs his foot across your under the table. Was he really playing footsie with you? 

You clear your throat, and decide to just play along without saying anything and you swear you saw a victory smirk cross his gorgeous face. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked him, expecting some smart ass answer like porn, or some slasher marathon he’d planned since there was no case, and so much snow had fallen the night before it wasn’t like anyone wanted to get out in it anyway to actually work.

“You and I are gonna go downtown, so hurry up and eat your breakfast so you can get dressed,” he said excitedly, and you give him a confused look. 

“Downtown? It was a snow storm last night? Can we even get downtown?” you asked him in confusion, but he seemed thoroughly unfazed. 

“It stopped snowing hours ago, and the snow plows have already came through and cleared the roads, the sun's out, and it’s really not that bad out there, so hurry up Y/N/N!”

He looked so much like an over excited child that you couldn’t say no to that face even if you wanted too. You quickly finish your meal and dress in your room before meeting Dean in the garage where he’d gone to warm up Baby for you so that you wouldn’t be cold when you got into the car. 

You don’t know where this new, thoughtfully sweet, Dean came from but you weren’t complaining. Dean had never wanted to spend this much time with you before, and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“What are we doing downtown Dean?” you asked him as the car moved ever closer to Dean’s destination, his fingers were drumming alone to the classic rock song that was filtering through the speakers, and he was humming in a way you had only heard him do about a handful of times. He looked, happy? It was rare that Dean ever looked happy. It was a nice chance. 

“You're about to find out,” he said with a smirk, pointing ahead of him, at the side road where a fully decked out horse driven sleigh was waiting, children flocking around the animal as the handler let them each have a turn petting it’s short main. Your mouth fell open in utter shock and disbelief at the sight before you, and you couldn’t deny that the little girl in you was squealing with delight at the sight before you as Dean parks Baby safely on the side of the street. 

“Dean! Are you serious?!” 

You were all but bouncing up and down in the seat and Dean was chuckling at your excitement as his bright green eyes watched you, an emotion filling them you couldn’t understand in that moment. 

“Serious as a heart attack baby girl, I’ve already got us booked for a ride, in fact they're waiting on us now,” he said, getting out of the car and making his way around to pull you from the passenger side. 

You were still in so much shock that you all you could do was smile like an idiot as he laced his fingers with yours, and made his way over to the sleigh, shopping to let you pet the horse for a moment before helping you into it, following close behind you and draping the blanket they provided over your lap so that you wouldn’t get cold. 

The young man that was standing next to the horse climbed up behind the reins and took off slowly, making his way through a heavily decorated part of town, and through the little orchard that set just outside the park, snow making them limbs of the trees heavy and everything bright like winter wonderland as your eyes traveled around the scene before you. It looked like something out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, but you wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. Dean's eyes barley left your face, watching you as you looked around with a childlike amusement. 

“Dean, how did you even find out they were doing this?” you asked him as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close to him to help keep you warm. Your heart fluttered around in your chest at the simple little act, and damn he smelt like Heaven.

“I saw it on the news, and I remember you saying how much you loved horses, so I figured it was something you would like to do,” he said simply with a shrug, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and those eye crinkles you loved so much coming out to play. “I thought this would be the perfect day 11.” 

“I love it De, thank you for thinking of me,” you tell him, letting your head rest against his shoulder as the landscape passed along by you like a beautiful, moving portrait. 

“I always think of you Y/N,” he said, and you blushed deeply at his little revelation, looking up into his forest green eyes as he stared down into your own. You watched as his eyes traveled from your lips to your eyes again, and for just a second you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Just before the electric pull between the two of you became irresistible he pulled back a little, and you could have kicked yourself for thinking this was anything but plutonic. You didn’t have a chance to sulk about it before his free hand reached over and laced with yours, quickly making the moment all too intimate again, his lips kissing the top of your forehead and making your heart leap in your chest. 

“You just wait to see what I have planned for day ten,” he chuckled as the sleigh started to make its way back to the starting point, and you started to question him, but something in his eyes just said he wanted to surprise you, so you wouldn’t spoil this for him either. 

“You know you don’t have to do this Dean,” you tell him earnestly, and he smiles warmly down at you as the ride comes to an end, and he helps you down, leading you towards the little hot chocolate stand that was set up close by. 

“I want too, Y/N/N, you deserve this, and I’m going to make this a Christmas you will never forget, trust me.” 

Your mind and heart fluttered with possibilities and excitement that you hadn’t felt in years, but more importantly you were pretty sure you were falling in love with this green eyed God of a man, and hoped that it didn’t put a damper on the holiday fun he had planned for the two of you.

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp​

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@akshi8278​

@love-jackles-37-blog​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

@bobbie3939​

Twelve Days Of Christmas Tag List: 

@440mxs-wife​

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.25

Adventure Awaits

02/22/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,688

Warnings: language, light smut, angst, fluff, so much fluffffffffff, obscured nudity

A/N: Hopefully things will continue to come forth easily. The beginning of this chapter wrote itself, then I hit an emotional block but I finally got through it and here is the chapter! Things are a-moving and I can’t wait to share with you all what I have planned! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“What’s this?” Her voice is wary, eyeing the spacious kitchen which has been cleared out of the two long tables used to prepare all your meals.

Every servant has been given the day off with the exception of your head cook who is busy preparing your meals in the smaller manor where Peter has been staying. And one servant to tend to your needs.

However, you don’t want any interruption so the first chance you had you sent her off to relax on her own.

At the center of the kitchen with it’s carefully decorated and cobbled floors in shades of dark grays and browns is a large copper basin, big enough for two.

Floating amongst the pleasantly heated bath waters are the deepest of burgundy rose petals. A few of your own signature peonies thrown in, but the deep roses darken the surface. The clear waters are made milky with oils and imported salts that your research indicated would reduce stress.

“What does it look like?” You tease, moving past Nat still wearing the white nightdress you’d been put in for your examination in the morning.

“It looks like a very large bath.” She says a small curl to her lips.

“Because it is a very large bath.” You chuckle. “Peter?”

Your partner in this endeavor moves forward from the large double doorway, smiling at the look of surprise on Natasha’s face.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Make sure no one enters? And inform me at once when Steve returns. Or of any news. Or if he sends word for me. Or-”

“Y/N…” Nat chuckles, watching you with amusement as she cuts you off.

“Sorry. I’m just-”

“Worried.” Peter nods. “He’ll be alright. Knowing about what we do isn’t easy. But trust us…we’re very capable.”

“And he has Samuel and Bucky with him this time.” Nat reminds you. “They are a tough trio to overpower.”

You’re not exactly comforted but knowing that Steve isn’t alone this time does make you feel better.

“I guess you’re right.” You sigh.

“Don’t worry, your Majesty. I will make sure that no one disturbs you unless it’s Steve.” Peter promises.

With a quick bow of his head, he leaves the room and shuts the door tight.

“So, what is the bath for?” Nat wonders, moving over to stand by the edge of the large basin.

“For you.” You tell her and move to stand beside her. “Take off your clothes.”

You don’t wait for her to be ready. You reach behind her and start to tug at the ribbons underneath her bodice.

“Wait! Y/N!” She twists in your grasp, trying to see what you’re doing.

“For what?”

“Your Majesty…” She complains.

“Stand still.” You fuss, and finish tugging her bodice free then peel it off and toss it aside before moving onto her skirt.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, true happiness in her voice. “Why a bath?”

“Because…” You begin, getting her skirt off before tossing it onto her discarded bodice. “…I have wanted to repay your love and support for a while now and seeing as this is how you have taken care of me, I wanted to reciprocate.”

You peek up at her beautiful face to find her slightly stunned but also impressed?

“Have you been reading a lot?” She asks, no doubt noticing your improved vocabulary. You really are trying very hard to be the Queen that Broklin and Steve deserve.

You feel your cheeks flood with heat. “I’ve been studying.”

“You’re doing wonderful.” Nat smiles.

“Our first week here Steve was so busy I only saw him when we went to bed and a few hours in the morning, if that. I had a lot of time to read.”

“Are you finding it easier?” She wonders.

“A bit. My writing has improved as well. Looks a bit more polished now.” You declare proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Y/N.” Nat praises and you smile.

“Take off your undergarment and get in, while the water is still hot.” You tell her, then proceed to remove your own.

As you strip, you caress the tiny swell of your belly. Once you’re undressed, you very carefully climb into the basin and with Nat protectively holding onto your arm to help, sit yourself down on one end leaving the opposite open for her.

Settled, you watch as she strips, and feel your mouth fall open as she drops her underdressed and exposes the exquisite perfection beneath.

Natasha’s body is a vision. Beautiful and porcelain smooth. Every curve appears sculpted by a master craftsman. There is no bit of Nat’s body that is not the ideal of what you think every man hopes his lover will look like. You aren’t even ashamed of your gawking because she is stunning.

“No wonder James is so eager to marry you.” You realize.

Natasha scoffs. “He only wishes he’s seen me so exposed.”

Hm…you would have thought that they’d already been together with how affectionate and open they are.

“That’s my point.” You tell her. “He might very well faint when he finally sees how beautiful you are.”

Nat shakes her head but settles into the steaming water and with one heavy sigh, you see the stresses of her day to day life leave her. And though you know that she does not begrudge you her care, you must be an added stress too.

You should have done this a long time ago.

“Are you comfortable?” You check, wondering if maybe different oils might have been better or if the water has gone too cold.

“Perfectly.” Nat assures you. “Is this what you had in mind for our special day together? Getting me naked in a tub?”

You laugh but nod. “Since coming here, to Broklin marrying Steve, there’s a decorum that I-no, that we are expected to adhere to. So much of our lives are spent abiding by everyone else’s rules. I wanted to give you an opportunity to relax.”

“Thank you.” Nat nods. “But after the morning you just had I would think you need this more than I do.”

You feel your smile waver and then fall leaving a sorrowful grin in its place. Pushing yourself to sit a little straighter, you begin to gather your hair up and away from your shoulders. It drips a little at the tips but it’s mostly still dry.

Nat’s own fiery red locks are already piled up on top of her head in beautiful waves. You’re still absolutely dumbstruck by her beauty, milky skin glistening in the steam, her breasts just barely hidden in the clean yet murky waters.

The rose petals help to keep her shielded.

“I’m not bothered by the examination. Doctor Selvig was very gentle. And it’s good to know that the babe and I are progressing healthily. However, I am still worried about him. What if he’s born with all of the problems that Steve had as a child? Will we have to seek help as the Queen Mother did to cure Steve and save his life?” You chew on your lip, finishing up with your hair and sitting back carefully.

Your hands find your belly and you begin to caress the bump gently.

“I’m sure you and Steve have nothing to fret over. From what I understand of his cure, it changed him in every sense but who he was as a person. He’s always been a reckless, self-sacrificing idiot.” She means for it to make you laugh and you do smile, but your worries as a mother will not relent.

“I hope you’re right.” You sigh.

“Shall I distract you?” She offers. “I did promise to tell you my story.”

Suddenly, your worries are shoved to the wayside as your need to understand this woman, your closest friend, completely.

“I suppose I should start from the age of three?” She begins, “I grew up in a small village, poor. Very much like you did. I don’t remember it, but what I do remember is being somewhere new. I was taken from my home—or maybe sold? I’m not certain. I have searched for my parents but have found nothing—and placed in what I thought was an orphanage for girls. For a long time, that’s what I assumed.

“I had no parents. I was given a bed and food, but also other things that I did not know weren’t normal until I was almost fifteen.” She confesses.

“What kinds of things?” You wonder.

“Violent things. Styles of fighting. Techniques to infiltrate, mimic, a form of acting I suppose you could call it. I was taught to be a spy. To charm those around me and then extract from them whatever it is I should need from them.

“Most importantly, I was taught how to kill, proficiently. And I’m…I have done so many times. The number of people…”

“Is this why you think you don’t deserve to be with James?” You’re astounded by her reasoning. Everyone has done things that they are not proud of.

“It is part of the reason, yes.” Nat admits.

“Nat-”

“I should be dead.” Nat tells you, shocking you into silence.

You wrap your arms around your tummy, trying to hold yourself together at this stunning revelation.

“What do you mean?” You whisper, terrified of a world without your best friend within it.

Nat’s lips curl up into a small sad smirk. He shakes her head once and draws her eyes down to her hand as she passes a floating rose petal between her long feminine fingers, which you suddenly notice are calloused and scarred.

“Back before I met anyone on the team, I was on a…I’ll call it a quest as I think that is the best word to describe it…on this quest, what must have been my twenty-third in a fortnight? I don’t even remember where I was.

“I was closing in on my target, some duke or prince—it didn’t matter—when suddenly, an arrow shot straight through my arm. I still have the scar.” She says, reaching up to stroke the faded line on her left bicep. “It was Clint.”

“The Hawkeye?” You wonder, remembering the pseudonym for the effectively retired member of the Avengers.

“Yes. He was given the order to kill me on sight. And it’s no wonder for I had caused so much turmoil among the Southern kingdoms by killing many high-ranking officials and members of countless courts.

“The price on my head was high but an old group known as the Shield had the highest bid. The man in charge, General Fury had instructed Clint to bring him my head. But Clint instead incapacitated me. He tied me up and spent a week trying to get through all of the cobwebs in my head.

“It took another few months before he was willing to turn his back on me. Literally. He was no longer afraid I’d attack him.

“By the end of the year, every bit of mind control that the Orphanage had me under was broken and I could see myself for the first time in my life.” Nat smiles, this time more genuinely, but it shifts back into the sadness you’d seen in the examination room earlier in the morning. “But although he gave me back my truest self, there are things that the Orphanage took from me that I can never get back.”

“What do you mean?” You’ve shifted closer as she’s spoken, drawn in by this astounding life of violence that she’d lived before you met her.

“The reason that I won’t marry Bucky…” She picks some more at the petals as they float around her breasts, the pads of her fingers stroking the crimson velvet. “…is because I could never be a proper wife for him. Not as one should be to a lord of such high standing.”

“Nat-?” You begin, growing frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“I can never give him children, Y/N.” She meets your eyes, emerald jewels glistening with tears as she lets her words sink in.

Your hands wrap just a little more tenderly against your belly.

“Oh, Nat.” You lament. “And you can’t-?”

“There’s no way to fix it. They were very thorough.” She tells you, dropping her head as she lets her sorrow flow through her beautiful alabaster figure.

You scoot closer with a splash as your body cuts through the fragrant water. Your arms are around her shoulders as you meet her forehead with your own, shutting your eyes as you embrace her close and will yourself to take her pain.

“I am so sorry.” You whisper, afraid to speak louder for you might very well cry. “You have known a life that I would not have wished on my worst enemy. It pains me to know that I can’t help you or erase what’s happened.”

Nat sighs, bodily relaxing as your hands stroke the silky moistened blades of her shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, opening your eyes to look at her large lower lip as it trembles. “Even if you cannot have your own children, my son shall be your Godson.”

Your promise is true. If something should happen to you, you would hope that Nat and Bucky would take care of your boy. Raise him well. To be a good King and a good man.

“I will need you to care for him as if he is your own. He will be yours, as much as mine. How could I do any of this without you, Nat? I need you. My son needs you.” You lean away to meet her eyes, hoping she can see the sincerity in your own aching expression.

She stares at you for a minute, her eyes shifting between your two, back and forth as her mind races with mysterious thoughts.

Suddenly she smiles. “How are you so…so wonderful? So kind?”

You’re not sure what she means, and you try to think about what it is you just said. Whatever it is that makes her feel that you’re wonderful and kind, you know it’s only because it’s Nat and you would do anything to ensure her happiness.

“Because I love you.” You tell her, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Because you’re you and I want you to know that you aren’t alone. You’ve been with me every step of the way on this chaotic journey that has been the first year of my marriage…”

Has it really been less than a year?!

“…and you deserve every happiness.”

Nat reaches back to take hold of one of your hands then brings it up to her lips to kiss it.

“My gracious Queen.” She sighs.

You let her hold your hand to her lips for a moment as you watch her and the true fear that washes off of her.

“Nat?” You probe, “Does Bucky know?”

She nods, another small sigh escaping her lips. “He knows everything. Where I came from, what I’ve done, what I can never do for him…”

“He still loves you.” You realize.

“Yes.” Nat nods. “The idiot.”

You smile but reach up to caress the sides of her face to draw her gaze. “Nat, my love, Bucky adores you more than anyone or anything else in this world. If he has no qualms with your inability to give him children, then why should you protest?”

“Because he deserves more than that.” Nat replies exasperated and you don’t doubt that she’s had this discussion with Bucky countless times, and she must be tired of trying to get her viewpoint heard.

“And I understand that, but he loves you. If he feels in any way how I feel about Steve, there will be no getting rid of him.” You argue.

Nat growls, “I know.”

“Nat…” She looks at you. “…earning someone’s love can be as natural as breathing. It was that way for Steve and Margaret. Or it can be one of the most difficult things we ever have to do.

“Some of us have to fight for our love and the struggle can be grueling and exhausting. It can damn near kill you. Trust me. I know.

“You and Bucky have managed to find each other, and he loves you so much that he doesn’t care that you cannot give him what you think he deserves.

“If you can, if it doesn’t feel like too much of an imposition, I beg you to let him love you.

“Let yourself be happy.” You stroke her cheek with your thumbs, nodding as her eyes are glued to your own. “You deserve to be happy. Just as Steve did. Though his past will always be a part of who he is, it doesn’t weigh him down any longer. You can let go too.

“I worry, Nat, that if you continue to fight it, Bucky might very well run away just as I did. And then you would be without him…”

Nat scoffs. “I don’t think I could handle him going missing again.”

“Again?” Your brow furrows.

“It’s not important. It was years ago.” Nat shakes her head.

You open your mouth to protest, but your stomach gurgles loudly.

The sound breaks the tension and Nat chuckles then rises slowly before stepping out of the water to quickly drape herself in a thick deep green robe.

“I think you’re hungry.” Nat tells you, grabbing your own fur trimmed blue robe.

She holds it open for you beside the large tub.

“Or at the very least, our little Prince is.” She reminds you.

“You cannot just say something like that and not explain.” You argue.

“Later.” Nat brushes your curiosity off. “Come on.”

With a pout, you let her help you out and into your satin slippers, then reach to take your robe. Nat hisses, pulls it out of reach, then points at you with her chin.

Frowning, you turn around so that she can wrap you up in the soft warm fabric.

“Cheer up, your Majesty. Perhaps Steve has returned?”

This is a rude and shameless tactic of her to use, but it works and with a small pouty scoff, you move for the door suddenly eager to see your blonde, bearded, and blue-eyed scrumptious husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve hadn’t returned when dinner came. He hadn’t returned when it was time for you to go to bed.

You'd sat all night in the plush blue chairs by the fire, counting the haunting calls of the Barred owl, no doubt nesting in the aftermath of the blizzard.

You’re on call number three hundred and seventy-two when your eyes close and don’t reopen.

You hear a sigh and they’re coaxed to reopen.

In front of you, on the cushioned footrest that you rarely use as you much prefer to curl up on the large chair, sits a handsome king.

His blonde hair is damp with small flecks of snow still clinging to the strands.

His cheeks are red, flushed from the biting cold, his lips only slightly blue.

You don’t like that. You want to reach out and massage some life back into that frowning pucker.

Instead, your sleep weary body adjusts in the seat to lean your head against the left side as you wrap your arms around yourself more tightly.

You smile, happy to see Steve despite the disapproval he seems to have with you.

Blinking is a chore. You’re so tempted to just close your eyes again and drift into dreams.

Instead, you lick your lips and swallow.

“Hello.” You croak, voice protesting use so soon after regaining partial consciousness.

“Why are you sleeping in the chair?” Steve asks.

This is what has offended him. This is the source of his frown.

“You’re with child, my petal. You can’t be sleeping in chairs.” He states.

Your back agrees and as you make to sit up, you scrunch your face as the pressure in your back nearly overwhelms you and then subsides.

“I’mmkay.” You lie.

“Well, I’m not.” Steve argues.

With a bite to your bottom lip, you lift your head again, realizing his genuine irritation.

“Have I done something?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Not you, my flower. It’s…Pierce isn’t convinced of your pregnancy.”

“But…” You begin, your heart beginning to pound. You can already feel the fear and the stress building within you.

You cup your bump, fearful of what this means for your baby. Steve scoots closer, his arms tucking in beside your hips to cup the small of your back. It makes him get off the stool and he kneels in front of you, getting as close as the chair will let him.

You like this about him. He seems to know that you need the physical reassurance. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always touching you, holding you, making sure that you know he wants you to be near.

After so much of his distance, you appreciate the proximity in which he keeps you, both in private and in the company of others.

“He’ll have to wait to see the child born. He has no choice.” Steve tells you, voice low and soothing. “Doctor Selvig has assured him that you are with child, Lord Ross saw and was convinced by your growing belly. He has a daughter. Before his wife died, he was very devoted to her while she was with child as well. He knows what to look for.

“Pierce has never had a family. He has no wife. No children. He’s an idiot.” Steve sighs.

Although it’s comforting to know that Lord Ross believes your expectant belly, knowing that Lord Pierce will be looking for any signs that it is a farce—perhaps actively trying to prove it even if doing so should put your son at risk—fills you with a dreadful fear unlike any you have known before.

“Steve…” You shudder.

“It’ll be alright, my petal. I won’t let anything happen to our little prince. You and he are both the only thing that matters now.” He promises and you believe him, despite the crown that rests upon his head.

Your head.

You pull him close, resting your forehead against his, your hand a vice around the front of his shirt.

“Why can’t we just be?” You wonder in whisper.

“I’m sorry.” Steve grieves. “This is all because of me. If I was not your husband-"

“Hush.” You frown, pulling back to look at him. “I’ve fought tooth and nail to have you, I won’t have you wishing yourself away from me.”

He smiles softly, eyes brimming with love and pride.

“I would gladly suffer ten times what I suffered when we started if it meant that we could be as we are now.” You gush.

Steve’s smile widens, teeth exposed transforming his handsome face with more beauty.

“Is that why you ran away from me?” He teases, brows scrunched in amusement but genuine curiosity.

“I ran away from you because you were being an ass.” You shake him, hand still fisted around his shirt front.

“You are the best of women.” He states, “The only one that would have put up with what I did and the things I said…I wish I could take them back.”

“I don’t.” You realize, shaking your head, looking down at your hand clutching his shirt. “Save for our wedding night…there is not one moment of agony I would erase. I know you better for it. I know how stubborn you are, and unaware of yourself. I know how strictly you abide by your morals and how reckless you can be when your emotions are running high.

“But most importantly, I know how fiercely you can love. The lengths to which you’ll go to protect it.

“And if you hold ours in importance to a fraction of the love you had for Margaret, then I am content. All I wanted was a chance to love you.” Steve reaches behind your head, caressing the back and tickling the nape of your neck.

His face is torn with intensity, brow furrowed, jaw tight, eyes piercing with their sorrowful passion.

“A fraction-" He begins but stops as he stares into your eyes, hopeful devotion is all you can offer him.

Is that enough?

“Y/N you are my whole world now. I may have duties and responsibilities to my kingdom but having you in my life now, I could never go back to one without you.

“I always thought that my purpose was to defend the less fortunate, the defenseless and it is…but you have given my life true substance. I thought my life would begin and end with the fight I have been struggling with since I could throw my shield.

“Even with Margaret our lives were nothing but this job, this unspoken calling. I didn’t know that there could be something more important than the fight. And there is.

“There’s you. Our family. Our life together is…if you asked me to give up this life, I would do so in a heartbeat.” Steve gushes.

You’re a blubbering mess. You began to tear up at his admittance that he could never go back to a life without you. You laugh once sniffling and probably looking insane with tears pouring across your cheeks.

“Don’t do that.” You argue, tightening that fist around his shirt. “You love doing it.”

You see it in the way his eyes brighten when he talks about it. As much as you hate the idea of him showing up, broken and bleeding the way he had before, you couldn’t take this part of his life from him.

It’s who he is. You see that.

“But I would stop. For you. For our family.” Steve insists.

“I’ll never ask you to.” You assure him.

He smiles and shakes his head. “You won’t have to. If the time comes that the stress of this life becomes too much for you. I will abandon it.”

“No.” You fight. “I’ll deal with my own stress, you can’t stop!”

Steve chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck with affection.

“Have you always been this stubborn?” He asks.

“Have you?”

Of course, you know the answer to that better than anyone.

He laughs again but pulls you down to meet his lips with a kiss. It gets heated quickly and while your head is still spinning from the way his tongue rolls against your own, he’s scooping you up.

He places you in bed, tracing a line from your jaw down along your neck, collarbone, chest—he circles your nipple, pebbled from the attention over your thick blue nightdress—along your side, then around to your growing belly.

He cups the curve of it, nipping at your neck as your breathing heavies and a soft moan slips through your parted lips.

With your eyes closed, while your body burns for him, your mind races through a million thoughts before it settles on the fact that he’s in his Captain uniform, without his mask, sans his shield.

“Was everything alright?” You wonder.

“With what?” Steve asks, voice octaves deeper, rough as his hand begins to slip along the curve of your thighs, pushing the left one up to open you up.

“The attacks?” You clarify, voice breathless.

“Oh.” Steve stops, his hand drifting around to rest along your hip, still tight and possessive but he props himself up on his right elbow to look down at you as your heaving bosom slows.

“I was worried about you, of course, but the people…?” You explain.

“We lost a woman who was protecting her elderly parents.” Steve sighs, sadness in his storm blue eyes.

“Oh.” You reply, a small hitch in your voice as your chest aches.

You blink hard, trying to banish the tears from your eyes.

“Things aren’t going as well as I would like.” Steve explains. “I’m calling in some help. I’m afraid I will have to take Natasha with me next time. Peter as well, if things do not improve.

“But it terrifies me to leave you without some type of significant protection.” Steve brings his hand back to your belly.

If it were only you, you wouldn’t mind being left unprotected. But with your prince…

“I could always go stay with my father?” You offer.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m going to need him on this too. But you’re right. His castle may be safer for you as Pierce is always so present in ours. I’ll write to him today, see if he likes the idea. I doubt he would mind his own daughter staying for a few weeks.”

“I miss mother too.” You admit. “And Morgana.”

“Malibia it is then.” Steve nods.

Then he lays there, smiling at you, content.

But you shift beneath him, left leg still pushed to the side, bent at the knee.

“Steve…” You complain and bite down on your lower lip.

He grins. “My queen is ravenous.”

“Yes...please.” You plead and there’s a shift in his expression as you beg for him.

His jaw tightens and he dives down between your legs, hands renewed along your thighs, pushing them up to spread you as he devours you.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Steve calls, drawing you away from the pile of books by the chair you’ve settled in for the afternoon.

After the exertions of your morning, Steve was eager to get you off your feet and his pleading for you to read to him became unbearable. You caved.

So while he’d settled in at the desk to write the letter to your father, you’d read to him, reciting from an old book of sonnets about spring and summer winds making your skin ache for the comforting rays of the sun.

You pull the small blanket from across your legs and your tempest blue gown spills out around your legs. The fabric is smooth but warm, like silk but thicker and better for the colder climate here at the cottage.

“What’s the matter?” You check, rising with worry at the tone in his voice.

“Nothing.” He assures you, then moves back into view from around one of the bookcases towards the door.

You’d chosen to sit by the large window to look out at the grounds as the snow continue to salt the already frozen earth.

“Agatha is here.” Steve tells you.

“Grandmother?’ You move towards him and he nods.

Steve has taken to the old woman like he would a parental figure. It’s sweet the way he tends to her and though you’re sure it’s because he’s a good man and she a sweet woman, you wonder if maybe it’s also because he knows how important she is to you.

“Where is she?” The aged voice asks.

“Through here, grandmother.” You call, making to walk to her but Steve places his arm around your waist to stop you.

The old woman moves into view and you can’t help the smile that crosses your face as stunning relief takes away any stress you still held in your body.

“Oh, my dear.” She fusses, and moves for you, hands extended.

You take her hands, bringing them up to your cheeks to warm them with your own heat. She’s so cold. You wonder if she didn’t bundle up enough.

“It’s so frigid outside.” You worry. “Where is your cloak?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, girl. Romanoff said that you were experiencing pains?”

You chance a glance at Steve, terrified of the worry it might bring him to hear this, but you nod when you see him looking intentionally calm. There’s a small shift in his jaw that tells you he’s keeping it in for your sake.

“Yes…” You nod. “I think. Just a bit. A small ache in my lower back and my stomach. But the pain was short lived and I have not felt it since.”

Your assurances don’t do anything to make her feel better. She frowns at you then glares at Steve.

“Your doing, no doubt?” She accuses him.

“Grandmother…” You disapprove.

“It is. Forgive me Grandmother. It was an oversight on my own part. I should have made certain to take care when I went out.” He wraps his arm around you more tightly.

“Yes, well, as long as you know that you were in the wrong.” She nods.

“Your Majesties?” A voice interrupts before you can defend Steve to the old woman.

“Come in, Peter.” Steve says, and all three of you turn to look towards the doorway and the bookcases that shield it from view.

There are two sets of footsteps you hear before two bodies round the shelf of aged and multicolored volumes of text.

One of them is, of course, Peter. Wearing a thick gray tunic with sleeves that button along his wrists. He’s getting bigger and bigger by the day. His muscles hardening even more than they already have.

He’s sprouting up. Filling out. He’ll have the girls at court in a frenzy when the lot of you return to Castle Town.

He’s smiling from ear to ear and for a split second you wonder what might have brought on such a pleasant visage when the second body rounds the shelf and your father saunters in.

“Tony?” Steve say, his eyes narrowing a little before his face breaks into a genuine smile.

He releases your waist to move forward and meet your father in a firm shaking of hands.

“Steve.” Tony nods.

“I was just writing to you.” Steve tells him, finding it all a little fateful probably. “What brings you to the cottage?”

You sweep past grandmother and Peter and sidestep Steve as Tony knowingly opens his arms for you.

Devouring him with your eyes, you appreciate the healthy way he looks. Skin glowing, eyes bright, dark chestnut hair layer with only the thinnest layer of snowflakes. His dark leather tunic is weathered and old but probably a comfort in such terrible weather.

“Father!” You gasp, as you settle within his embrace.

His chuckle brings you comfort, and you smile as he gives you a squeeze.

“I think I owe you a somewhat sincere congratulations?” He checks, leaning back to look at your face.

For a moment you’re utterly confused. “Why?”

“Aren’t you with child?” He asks, leaning back and holding you at arm’s length to look you over.

“Oh!” You laugh, so giddy to see him that your joy is infectious, and everyone laughs with you. “Oh, yes! Thank you. I’m so happy, father.”

Tony’s smile widens, a smug look of triumph on his face. “I knew you could make my daughter happy.”

His words meant for Steve are only slightly tinged with venom.

“Yes.” Steve nods, a strange look of remembrance flitting across both their handsome faces.

“I hope you can continue to make her shine like this.” Tony threatens. “I’m not afraid to punch you again.”

It’s like a lead weight falls into your chest and sticks your heart against the bottom of your stomach.

“What?” You gasp, quiet but sincerely shocked.

Steve laughs nervously, moving to stand closer to you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders to give you some comfort.

“Nothing. He was only joking.” Steve assures you. “Weren’t you Tony?”

His insistence is so firm that you’re now certain your father wasn’t joking.

“You punched Steve?” You ask in shock.

Tony clears his throat, averts his eyes, and moves on.

“Why were you writing to me?” He asks, moving towards the letter on the desk, half written.

“I…things are getting worse here in Broklin and I was going to ask you whether it would be too much of an imposition to take Y/N in for a time? Perhaps until after she has had our son?” Steve doesn’t look at you, but he pulls you closer. He squeezes you in against his side.

“You know very well that Y/N will always be welcome in Malibia. Her mother is always in earnest need to see her and Morgana writes to her often. Does she not?” Father asks, looking at you for response.

You nod. “Yes. Very often.”

“Mm.” Father agrees, looking back at the letter and giving it only a cursory reading before he begins to adjust the cuffs of his tunic shirt, pacing before the large window.

“What is it, father?” You ask him, very aware of what he looks like when he’s deep in thought.

“It’s fortuitous that you should need to come to Malibia for safety when I was actually here to ask you both for a rather large favor. And I think you, at least, son-in-law, owe me.” Father stops, hands gathered behind his back as he stops pacing and turns to look at Steve.

“What is it that you need, Tony?” Steve waits, no sign of dread or apprehension of being in debt to your father it seems.

“The people in my Kingdom have begun to grow restless. When they heard about the hidden Princess, they were outraged at my deceit. We had only just begun to settle things with the public when word of your disappearance began to circulate.

“Some of them thought that you’d killed her.” Father tells Steve and your mouth falls open.

“Yes. I heard that rumor too.” Steve agrees.

“What?!” You turn to look at him. “You never said that the rumors were that specific.”

Steve shakes his head at you. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Steve, maybe you should start to let me worry about what’s going to worry me? I don’t need to be coddled.” You snap, frowning up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Steve nods. “I should have told you. But it wasn’t important anymore. I just don’t want to risk anything with our little one on the way.”

He places his hand on your tummy and it’s hard to argue with that reasoning.

“Please don’t exclude me. I’m your wife. Am I not equal to you?” Maybe you aren’t? You don’t know how things work with Broklin. It seemed as if you and Steve were mostly on even footing, but perhaps as Queen your rule is less than his?

“Of course, you are. You’re my Queen. If I’m not around, you will rule in my stead. You are my partner, not my inferior.” He assures you, and it gives you ease of mind to know that he thinks this way.

“I don’t want to feel like you’re hiding things from me.” You sigh.

“You won’t. I’m sorry, petal. Truly.” He caresses the back of your head, hair stroke softly before a clearing of a throat brings your eyes back to your father.

“Is this what you look like when you fight?” He asks, amused for some reason.

“We’re not fighting.” You counter.

“Right…” Father says.

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I interrupted you, please father, continue.”

“There isn’t much more to it.” He shrugs. “The people of Malibia are in desperate need to see their eldest princess, now Queen of Broklin, in the flesh. So, will you come? We’ll make it a grand affair. Parade through the Castle city. Feasts. Dances. Celebrations in the streets. It’ll be extravagant and obnoxious.”

Father’s accompanying smile is almost tempting to refuse. He looks like he’s planning a joke or prank, not a royal procession and day of celebration.

“I have no obligations here at the cottage. I may have to take a few meetings with my councilors, but I am open to it. Y/N?” Steve checks, looking down at you.

Although you’d just told him that you wanted to be his equal, you’re a little surprised to have your input counted.

“I’m always eager to see my family again, and it would be nice to visit my old homeland.” You nod. “I’m willing to if you are my love.”

There’s a look of tempered shock on Steve’s face before his cheeks flush and his ears flare a bright burning red.

“What?” You ask him, amused by the expression on his face but confused by it.

“You’ve never called me that before.” He gushes shyly. “Your love?”

You smile, even more amused by his reasoning. “Well, you are my love. Are you not?”

“Always.” Steve coos.

“Oh, jeez…” Tony groans.

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 15

Wordcount: 3, 484 Rating: T for strong language and mild violence “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.” Chapter synopsis: Everyone goes out for a night in town for a day off. While Arthur is complaining about the venue of choice, Allen sulks about the prospect of being replaced. When you disappear to the bathroom, he follows you and comes clean about it, even suggesting that you run away with him. You're reminded that you picked the right choice when you come across some unfinished business. The reader is referred to as she/her.

15 - Blood was on the agenda

“Technology advances, but humans don't. We're smart monkeys, and what we want is always the same. Food, shelter, sex, and in all its forms, escape.”

He could repeat the quote word for word if he wanted.

A week had passed since Zao left the planet, leaving you buried to the neck with work, and him, with an unstable mechanic. Alfred was still wasting away, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when the guy was the source of all his problems. Ever since he returned to the guest room after comforting Arthur, this feeling of abandonment never stopped haunting him.

How could it, after seeing you curl up so comfortably with Alfred? Every night was the same. Allen would face you, hoping you could face him. But it was always your back. Your arms were coiled around the blonde's neck like they belonged there. And the image seared into his mind like branding. It only burned deeper into his soul at every passing day as you stuck closer to the man.

Down a narrow flight of stairs in a secluded street was a pounding nightclub. Two bouncers who could easily take his head off guarded the entrance. With tattoos of dragons etched into their skin, the sight was enough to get Arthur warbling again. “Why did we have to come here? The club across the street looked fine to me!”

Allen clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair.

“If it weren't for the fact that two of your friends are on the hit list, we'd go there. But we need every bit of protection we get.” Holding his hips as he gave the two men a squint, a tense silence fell around the group before they gave a soft grunt. A grin stretched over his face. “Good thing your boyfriend has connections.”

“... Hah...” Digging a hand through his choppy blonde locks, he shook his head with a hard frown. “And because of that, that idiot will turn up dead in a ditch one day...” As he trailed off, everyone entered the establishment. One of the bouncers whipped their head over their shoulder to stare at the group that just disappeared inside.

“Didn't we already let that guy in? The blonde one?” He pointed behind him with a thumb.

“... You're tripping balls, man.” The other sighed.

“Not today, I'm not. The one with the blue eyes. Like an hour ago.”

“Maybe he came in again cuz' he wanted to. It's not that deep.”

“This is why I'm better at this job than you.”

“Eat shit.”

It was a cloudy afternoon. A grayish-blue haze had been cast over the city, but what you walked into was so much dimmer in comparison. Nothing but neon illuminated the interior. Lights that faded from blue to purple lined the countertops. The tiles of the dancefloor were a blinding white. Next to it was a heated pool that glowed blue.

As fog clouded over the surface of the steaming water, it curled around the patrons wading in it. Needless to say, you were hypnotized. “Did nobody actually think of bringing their swimsuit?” Scrambling to the edge, you bent down to your knees and played with the white clouds. “A nice hot soak would do my sore muscles some good.” Before your fingers could do so little as graze against the water, Alfred grabbed your wrist.

“But not for your junk. They're practically swimming in STIs... Just do it at home in the bath.” He grumbled, pulling you up. Shivering at the thought, you let him pull you to the bar.

“But the bath doesn't glow...”

“Not yet, it doesn't.”

Allen narrowed his eyes. The guy was so quick to follow you, then lay hands on you, it had him rethinking his life purpose. Protecting you was meant to be his thing. Hell, it used to be his job, even. And yet, here Alfred was, having replaced him. No way. He was just an outsider in the end, wasn't he?

As he watched your interaction with him, he would soon learn he was right to some degree. Maybe Alfred didn't replace him, after all. He just became another figure in your life. Somebody he never managed to be--yet.

“Let's just grab some grub.”

Ever since Alfred arrived, he'd been wondering what was on the menu.

Hunger might have been history, but not eating. And you knew it well. Shooting him a weird smile, you nudged him with your elbow. “You say you don't have organs, but you still have a digestive system. How else do you use the toilet, huh?” Alfred looked at you, turned away, then looked at you again with his face scrunched up in a scowl.

He couldn't admit it, but you were right down to a T. “It doesn't count. It's not exactly real if it's not made of organic materials.”

Taking a seat by the counter, the stools beside scraped back to be occupied by your friends. While Alfred sat on your left, Allen sat on your right. Arthur took the end. “It's all a social construct.” You piped, much to his displeasure. The word wasn't entirely accurate to describe the emotions flurrying in his chest, however.

Was he frustrated? Yes. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to hear what you had to say. And you didn't disappoint. “If something serves a function in your body, it's an organ. Doesn't matter what it's made of.”

Alfred waved over the bartender. “I'm not having this conversation with you. We're from different generations, so I have a right to brood in peace.”

“Fine. But I won't let it destroy you.”

His breath hitched while he was about to order. “Can I--” Darting his eyes to yours, his voice only faltered at the steely look in them. Tearing his gaze from you had never been so difficult. “... Can I get a yakisoba with extra bonito flakes on the top? And uh, six of these dim sum-thingos?” He slid the menu to you.

“What do you want?”

A soft laugh rumbled from your throat as he refused to look at you. I'm finally getting through to your thick-headed ass, huh? But you couldn't be unreasonable. This was always a touchy subject. “I'll just have these dumplings. What about you two?”

Allen raised his brows, unimpressed. “Lotus chips and beer for me. This isn't the most vegetarian-friendly place in the world. Sucks.”

Arthur smirked. “I know, right? But protection is the priority, I suppose. I'll have the BLT.”

“I don't think you get to side with me when you ordered the worst thing off the menu.” The redhead mused, causing the other to flare their nostrils. He slapped his hands down on the counter to sit further up his stool. “But I get it. Aw, everything reminds me of him! Except for this BLT cuz' it's white.”

“Shut your gob and bugger off, Allen! It's literally just food.”

The said man sipped his beer loudly. “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.”

“So what? Not everyone has the same eating habits as you. Deal with it!”

You exchanged funny looks with Alfred. “Don't they get along well?”

“Not as well as us. And it'll stay that way so long as you don't talk about your philosophies.”

“... And that's not happening.” The food finally arrived, so the murmur of conversations came to an end. But it wasn't long before they picked up again. “You're not the only one who can have opinions.” Alfred glanced at you with narrowed eyes. “I can't even say that they're as strong as yours. But you'll have to live with them. Maybe you could learn something new.”

He scoffed, but he couldn't bite back a defeated smile. “C'mon, not this again. You of all people should understand how I feel about that stuff.”

“And I've seen what it does to you.” Alfred hung his head at that. This was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it annoyed him all the same. The hardest topics were often the most worth discussing, and this was a perfect example of it. Giving your chest a few indignant bumps with his head, he sulked like a child much to your amusement. “I'd love to entertain you some more, but nature calls.”

Hopping off the stool at that, he thrust out a hand to grab yours. It all happened so fast, even he was shocked. But it became apparent to you both what just happened—he needed you for one last reckoning. For you to see that expectant look of his, saying how he wasn't done with you. After a few moments, he let go, letting you turn away and run off to do your business.

Life had been such a shitshow you almost forgot the situationship between you and him. Even with his lacking memories, he couldn't forget it either. And now, he just had to wait for the right time.

“Right. That's it.” Allen grumbled, scraping his chair back to hop off.

Arthur glanced up.

“And where the hell are you going?”

“Gonna go with her. I've learned to not trust anything anymore.” Jogging after you at that, the mechanic was left with a fellow blonde.

“Well, would you look at that? It takes two to tango.”

Alfred shook his head. “What?”

“You and Allen, I mean.”

The toilet flushed. Leaving the cubicle to wash your hands in one of the communal sinks, you stared at your reflection as you shook away the water droplets. The pandemonium of the club music had faded to a soft thumping, giving you some space to collect your thoughts. Even in the darkness, what you saw in the mirror couldn't be clearer. It was distinctly different from watching yourself in a pond—where the ripples of the water distorted your image—specifically the one in the garden back at headquarters.

Your old home.

But it could burn for all you cared. This was who you were now. Tired, resentful, and fuelled by a fire of hot vengeance.

“... Whatcha thinkin' about?”

Your heart jumped out of your chest as you turned to the voice. Leaning against the doorframe was none other than your old bodyguard himself. “Oh my god, you scared the crap outta me.”

He craned his head to the side with a grin. “Sorry, a force of habit. Security works better when they're discrete.” You responded wordlessly with a small, wistful smile. As nostalgic as it was to have the man by your side 24/7, he didn't have to do this anymore. And it was better that way. Something about bodyguarding never sat well with you. Not with a man of his talents, anyhow.

Walking in to join your side, he bent down to fold his arms across the sink. Then, he rolled his head up to you. “So... Wanna tell me why you look like that?”

“Like... Like what?” Blinking a few times at the mirror, you leaned in to peer at your reflection.

Allen snorted. “Not literally. Well, not your physical appearance. I can tell when something's on your mind.” Straightening up, he squeezed your shoulder as he stared at both of your reflections. Almost instantly, he felt you tense up beneath his fingertips. “I've known you for nearly eight years, dollface. I'm offended that you're underestimating me.” The man pressed his cheek to yours coyly. “Even if you don’t talk to me about your problems, I can smell em’.”

You outstretched your hands to hold the edge of the sink, breaking away from the contact on his skin. It wasn't anything worth paying mind on your end, but the feeling of your face separating from his was reminiscent of tearing something from its glue. It stung as much as it was destabilizing. It showed in his troubled frown, which deepened when he heard your mirthless laughs while you hung your head.

“I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you.” The loudest silence fell around you both as his eyes went round with grief. “It's... Too productive.” Returning his gaze with a bittersweet smile, he felt himself die a little inside. You weren't spared of the sensation as you continued with an honesty so brutal, it killed you to say it. “I've been trying so hard to make something out of myself.”

Your brows trembled ever so lightly as they furrowed together. “But I'm getting so tired, I wanted to just... Give up on the future. Maybe disappear for a bit. But I couldn't bring myself to come to you or anyone about it. You especially.”

Allen huffed out a pained breath. “Why? I wanna help you! You can trust me with anything, you know that! Out of everyone in the world, I'm the closest to you, aren't I?” Holding onto your shoulders, he gave you a desperate squeeze. “Or am I wrong to assume that?” In this space in time, he never felt more betrayed in his life. The hurt coursing through every fiber of his being was unbearable—he preferred being skewered into by your father's blade to this.

“Because it’s Alfred now?”

Your heart sank as you listened to and saw how wounded he was. His lips were trembling, and tears were threatening to spill from his glassy eyes. Never in your life had you seen him cry. The sight was so sobering you couldn’t hold yourself from pulling him down into a tight hug. “No! It's because you're you.” As your bodies swayed from side to side in the embrace, you dug a hand through his hair and screwed your own eyes shut. “You’re my only family in the world. Nothing and nobody will ever replace you, ever.”

He tightened his hold on you as he let a few tears roll down his face. His eyes had been shut as a last-ditch resort to keep that from happening, but they oozed out the tiny gaps of his lids. “Then talk to me.”

Allen never knew he had this fear, but here it stood before him in all its glory, threatening to undo his sanity at the seams. It was the fear of being a second choice. Being abandoned. He already was once, and it nearly cost him his life. But if you did it--“What makes me so different from the rest? Why would it be easier to say this to everyone else?”

“Because you’ve known me since I was thirteen!” You buried your face into your hands to hide how it contorted with pain. Falling deathly quiet at your sudden outburst, he could only watch as you trembled away. “I’ve been working towards something ever since. I always thought I was scared of disappointing dad. But in the end, I was more afraid of disappointing you.”

Allen pulled you in again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss your cheek. It wasn’t a first, but the way how his mouth lingered on your skin made it feel like something more—something beyond a platonic friendship—and pulling away felt like a sin in itself. “Don’t think that fucking low of me. You could never disappoint me.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he bit back a contented sigh as your cries quietened to sniffles.

“You have nothing to prove. Fuck expectations. You don't have to live the way everyone wanted you to. Just live how you want.” Reaching up to hold your face, he was at a loss from how satisfied it felt to finally say it. But the moment of truth had yet to come—the culmination of everything he wanted in this world.

“Just run away with me. We can put this all behind us. We don’t have to think about this ever again.”

You held onto his hands that found a place on your cheeks. It was a nice thought. To abandon everything you knew to live a carefree and blissful life with Allen. But you declined with little hesitation. “We don't run from things. It's not who we are.” A sad smile made its way to your face. “And I have too much unfinished business.”

Allen wasn't sure whether to think of your response as rejection. But he wasn't about to let it get to him. “... If you ever do, then tell me. Zao's got a nice retreat in the middle of nowhere. We'll pack our things in the middle of the night and disappear by morning.” Your smile spread to him, but his was more bittersweet.

“I just want you to know that you'll always have a way out of everything. I'll wait for you. So just... Give me a call.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to walk off. With one last wistful look over his shoulder, he added this. “I'll always be your guy.”

Going to the bathroom was meant to clear your head, but here you were, sitting in your lonesome in an empty pool room in the penthouse to mull over the conversation. You would be lying if you said you didn't want to run away with Allen. A part of you wanted to return to how things used to be—when it was just you and him. He was the most important person to you in the world, but so was Alfred. You couldn't just forget about him like fuck all, could you? Breathing out a drawn-out sigh, you watched the soft pulsing of lights of the city at night through the window.

Maybe Allen did want you to forget him.

Fiddling with the gun he left you, the barrel scraped against the counter in small slides. Then, you picked it up with a huff to slide off the stool. It was about time you joined the rest. As you did, you caught sight of a familiar silhouette by the window.

Shrouded in the dimness of the room, their body was nothing but a shadow against the scenery of neon holograms and billboards. With a brief squint, you could recognize the person almost right off the bat.

“Alfred? How did you know to come up here?” Tucking the gun into your back pocket, you couldn't help but grin at the pleasant surprise. The said man spun to your voice, then waved. Your grin would've widened at the sight, but it faded upon discovering he was in a different set of clothes than what he arrived in. He came in a dark khaki military jacket and navy blue jeans.

Weird. When did he change to a kimono?

“Hey! I haven't seen you in ages. Come gimme a hug, dammit!” Tightening his arms around your waist, he lifted you up a few inches off the ground. A few nervous laughs fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself. And they felt... A little softer than you remembered. Warmer. Before you could linger too long on the sensation, he set you on your feet and gleamed.

“Whatcha doing in the club, (F/N)? I thought you didn't like places like these. 'Specially when this one's got ties to the underworld and stuff.”

You craned your head to the side—never have you been this baffled. “... You walked in here with us.”

Alfred blinked. “Oh, did I?”

“... Are you drunk?”

He patted his chest a few times without eliciting any sort of whirring noise—immediately, the interaction changed to an unsettling one. But his answer only confirmed your suspicions. “Nope! Stone-cold sober. It would take more than a few drinks to get this baby down.” He gloated, much to your surprise. But the shock soon morphed into a grim kind of understanding.

Alfred couldn't get drunk.

In a heartbeat, you grabbed his wrist, then felt down his forearm. The utmost terror contorted at your expression as you felt his soft flesh sink between your fingers. You only sucked in a horrified gasp when you witnessed his veins disappear under your presses. It was almost as if he was—“Heh. You having fun there?”

Glancing up at him in a dark glower, you never bothered to open your mouth. Instead, you reached for your back pocket. If he was who or what you thought he was, you couldn't let Alfred see him. He couldn't leave this room alive. However, your conviction couldn't triumph the smallest shred of hope that you were just seeing things. There was one way to confirm you weren't hallucinating.

Blood was on the agenda, and you wanted to see it.

You pulled out your gun at light speed and fired a shot into his palm.

The explosive bang was loud enough to reach a few floors down, including the elevator that just left this one. Allen was whistling to himself when he heard it.

As faint as it was, he couldn't mistake it for anything else.

He shouldn't have left you alone.

[ficforce]

Running Scared Part 1

Sagamiya Konro x Reader

SFW

No set timeline

Mutual Pining

Humming quietly to herself Y/N put the fresh batch of steamed mochi onto a tray and placed into the display cabinet on the counter, then she made sure that the pans were ready for making dorayaki before bringing the water to boil for the dango. She smiled as she saw everything she had made, it was far more than usual but it was a festival day and she wanted to close up before things got busy in the evening. Two very distinct giggles caught her attention and Y/N headed to the counter at the side of her kitchen, it took a moment to unlatch the locks and push open the hatch door - her home doubled as her sweet shop. “Good Morning Hikage, Hinata.”

“Y/N! That’s a lot of food!” Hinata tiptoed to scan the counter whilst her sister pressed her hands on the glass of the cabinet, “Did you make candy apples?”

“I did,” She smiled and handed the girls a box each so that they could pick what they wanted, “They’re not set yet so they’ll be a little gooey.”

“I don’t like when they’re slimy,” Hikage pouted but didn’t complain more than that, “Add it to the bill and Konro will pay, he can carry it til they’re hard.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a little at the mention of the Lieutenant and she glanced up and down the street until she saw him chatting with one of the other vendors. It was hard to miss him; Konro had always been taller than most and broad, he had a presence that was hard to ignore. She watched him rub the side of his bandaged neck and then he smiled at the other person - how did he always look so handsome?

Y/N jumped a little when the twins called for her attention, they wanted some of the items from the cabinet and she quickly got their order ready. The oven gave a ‘ping’ and she grabbed the cheesecake she had been baking, “Do you girls want me to add some cake too?”

Hikage nodded, her mouth was full as she chewed on a pink coloured mochi, Hinata’s cheeks were puffed out and she ate her own treat. The woman liked to think her little business was popular, it was rare someone complained about her cooking and recently she had started baking savoury treats again, leaning on the counter she smiled at the two whilst they chattered away to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Konro approaching and her heart squeezed inside her chest, she stood back up straight and took a breath to calm her nerves.

The man towered over the two, he reached out to thumb off a bit of sugary powder on Hinata’s cheek then smiled in Y/N’s direction, “Good Morning - you’ve made a lot for so early.” He had to guess that she had probably been up since before the sun to cook so much, “You trying to close early for the festi-”

“Konro, you’re paying, got it!” Hikage interrupted and pulled at his pant leg, “We’re gonna go see the old biddy!” With that, the two ran off down the street without even a glance backwards.

“They’re so mouthy… Even when I was planning to treat them already.” He was certain Benimaru was teaching them these bad habits and figured he’d need to mother the Captain into teaching them better manners. Benimaru would deny it was his fault regardless of the evidence.

Y/N kept herself busy with cutting the cheesecake into portions for sale, very carefully avoiding looking at him as she wondered how such a tall, intimidating man could be so soft with children, the twins weren’t even a little bit nervous of him. Konro didn’t miss the way she seemed to try and ignore he was there and tried not to let it get to him - Y/N always seemed too jittery in his presence. Did he frighten her or had he insulted her in the past? They had been friends once…

He knew she could be shy, it was one of the reasons they had crossed paths in the first place, people would target her shop way back in the day. Konro paid her what was owed and picked up the boxes for the twins; just as he made to leave she slipped an envelope on top of them, “Y/N, What’s this?”

“It’s… well, I just…” She caught his gaze by mistake and tensed up, “When the roof got damaged… y-your guys fixed it. So they’re tokens for- well, you know.”

She was uncomfortable even looking at him and he had to admit that hurt a little, “We appreciate it, Y/N.” Konro stood for a moment longer before turning to follow after the girls. As he walked he went through his memory as far back as he could with Y/N - they used to get along just fine and at one time he thought they might become a couple. He used to visit her almost every lunchtime with Benimaru up until the Fires two years ago. She had always had a soft spot for Benimaru and never got upset when he complained that everything she made was too sweet, instead, she made savoury treats just for him and told him he needed to eat more to get bigger; not that Benimaru had ever been scrawny… just short.

Everything had changed overnight.

He had heard that after the Fires she had made food for anyone who needed it, bringing it to the builders, the people unable to cook and to everyone staying at the Guardhouse. Glancing back at her home he realised that all of the houses opposite were built over the hole his Akatsuki had bored into the ground. She had had to look at it every day until it was filled - no wonder she was afraid of him.

“Konro! Hurry up or we’ll go without you!” He shook his head as the girls yelled for him and he put Y/N to the back of his thoughts but not out of them.

x - -

Sales were so busy that Y/N had to make several orders even after she had closed the shop, a little earlier than usual so that she could cook. Once the last box of treats had been collected she locked the hatch and hung up her apron; she looked at the extra food she had made and bit her bottom lip anxiously. Most of the day Y/N had hoped that a Hikeshi might pass by so she could have them deliver it to the Guardhouse, some of them would have to stay on duty whilst everyone else celebrated at the festival, she thought it would be nice to give them some of the treats they would miss out on.

Looking outside at the dimming sky she also noticed more people coming out, the women looked so pretty in their new yukatas and the kanzashi in their hair were so beautiful; she couldn’t remember the last time she had celebrated or dressed up like that…

Y/N shook it from her head and grabbed the boxes, if she was fast she could get back before the crowds got too thick and then she would watch from the window.

By the time she reached the Guardhouse, the first few stars had started to appear in the sky and the lamps had been lit in the streets. “Hello?” The woman pushed past the noren and stopped at the genkan step so that she could try to peer further inside. There was plenty of movement, likely people getting ready for an evening of celebrating, “He- oh, Benimaru. I brought some food for the nightshift.”

“Sweets?” Benimaru took the boxes from her, glowering at them almost.

“Actually, the middle one has those salty snacks you used to like inside.”

His eyebrows drew together, “Used to?” After a second a memory seemed to come to him and he made an interested sound, “You haven’t made those in forever - I probably still like them, thanks, Y/N.” He set the boxes down so that he could hunt down the snack she had mentioned and took a bite, “Still like ‘em.”

The Captain then began to separate them into a separate section, “You know they’re to share, right?”

“Tch.” Ignoring her amused laugh at him stealing what he wanted Benimaru glanced her way, “I’m not sharing these. Are you going to the festival tonight?”

“…No,” she wanted to but at the same time, the whole idea scared her, “Maybe next time. I’m going to head back, please don’t eat all of it at once.” With that, she waved and left.

Barely a minute later Konro came out and watched the young man reorganise the boxes, “Y/N was here?” He recognised the boxes and looked toward the noren, “I guess she’s rushing home to get ready?” Maybe he would see her during the night? Adjusting the belt on the navy blue yukata he had put on, Konro glanced past the noren again like she might still be there and then his fingers skimmed the pouch tied to his belt unconsciously.

“She’s not going,” Benimaru said around a mouthful of food, “Crowds scare her.”

“Crowds?”

Benimaru looked at him blankly for a second, was Konro being stupid on purpose or was he getting old? “Yeah, remember when she had that panic atta- Wait, you weren’t there, scratch that.” It was one of those rare times that Konro was out of town that Benimaru had come across Y/N huddled in a corner crying into her knees on the ground. “Y/N barely ever leaves her house unless it’s unavoidable, Konro, it’s been like that since the fires.”

The Captain had been shocked when she told him through terrified sobs, he had had to pick her up to get her home because her legs were shaking so much and then he had spent almost an hour getting her to calm down. Benimaru had always seen her as a kind of older sister, she had always fussed over him as he grew up and even now she made him snacks he would like; it had been strange to take care of her for a change. He could see that Konro looked a little put out to be learning the information secondhand, “It’s pretty busy out there already…” Benimaru sighed, “You should go make sure she gets home safe.”

Konro smile was a little self-pitying as he sighed, “She’s scared of me, Waka, I make her uncomfortable…”

“Did I stutter, Konro?” The young man turned his mismatched gaze on the man, “Go after her.” It was all the encouragement the man needed to put on his sandals and rush out after Y/N. Benimaru clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Scared? And he says I’m an idiot.”

The Lieutenant wasn’t all that surprised with how many people were already out, groups of friends laughed and walked together as they headed for the stalls in the centre of Town, he searched the sea of colourful clothing and lanterns - using his height to his advantage - until he spotted the back of Y/N head and jogged to catch up with her. He weaved past a few groups and reached out to catch her wrist, “Y/N!”

Straight away Konro could tell something was wrong, she hadn’t been walking when he caught up to her and he could feel the tendons in her wrist sticking out with how tense she was, “Hey… Are you-?” All of a sudden the noise of people around them seemed to become muffled and everything outside of their little bubble slowed down as he saw her face. She was frozen in place and her eyes were wide and frightened, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. Konro stood closer to Y/N to shield her from being bumped, “Please breathe, Y/N.” She kept holding her breath and then taking in small gasps of air, her whole body was trembling too and the Lieutenant guided her to the doorway of the nearest house, “It’s okay, I got you, Y/N…”

Y/N’s hands gripped the fabric at his chest, her breath still uneven as she pressed her face to his shoulder and tried to listen to his calming words, she tried to let the warm hand on her back rub soothe her but knowing it was Konro only made her feel worse. Somehow he got her to move, his hands on the base of her spine and her shoulder as he guided her through the people, using his larger body to shield her until she was back on her own doorstep. The bubble she had felt trapped in popped a little too rudely and the noise of the Town came back, the world rushing past, “D-Don’t go…” she could barely breathe and she wanted to feel safe again, contained and protected in Konro’s arms.

“I thought I scared you?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it and Konro looked away from her, heat rushing to his face as he silently told himself to be quiet. Her hands wrapped around his hand and wrist, gently applying pressure to the bandaged limb and then she gave him a small tug. When Konro looked at her again she had the door open and was asking him to come inside with her.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Y/N had always felt safer with him around but over the last two years her anxiety about going outside had grown, “I’m so pathetic…” Asakusa had been her home her whole life, its people were colourful and kind, very loud and rowdy but they were like family; she had no reason to be frightened by the crowds, why couldn’t she just enjoy the festival like everyone else could?

What was wrong with her?

“You’re not pathetic,” his free hand lifted to catch her chin and make her look at him, “I’d never hurt you… I know what I did, the way I ripped the ground up, must make you think I’m some sort of dangerous lunatic but I did that to save my Town and it’s not like I can even call up a flame now.” They used to be such good friends, they used to talk all the time and he missed her so much; his heart ached that she couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. Was she reminded of the destruction he had caused when she looked at him? Or maybe it was that she thought he was weak now?

She squeezed his hand again and swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I-I’m not scared of you, Konro… I tried to avoid you so that I wouldn’t lose you.” Y/N saw the confusion on his expression from her statement and she took a deep breath, “Two years ago…”

Watching her struggle to form words and then watching her close her eyes as if defeated, Konro sighed and closed the door behind them, “What happened, Y/N? Don’t run away from me anymore.”