#that she just tarnished my time before I go to work rip

[allofuswantgwinam]

not me telling my mom i was coming out to make a coffee and then she makes the last coffee pod right after i tell her that? she must hate me and want me to die fr

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter VIII. Reminisce.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 1.6k

chapter summary: the dark clouds gather up a storm, but there is always a silver lining to things.

warnings: hyunjin gets slapped by his mother, swearing, a few sad moments

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🌼 Daisy - family, innocence, childhood

Hyunjin stands next to his mother, as she sits in front of the easel, her bony and delicate hands holding the paintbrush firmly but sliding over the blank canvas so gently.

There is a dance in her movements, a feeling, a significant flick of the wrist, a heartbeat.

Hyunjin sees it and feels it, even if he's still young and even if he can't compare his little scribbles to the greatness her mind produces and pours out onto the paper.

She doesn't pay much attention to him, like she never does while she paints in a trance, her hand working automatically to create a beautiful city scape.

Only when she finishes, she turns to look at her son, who's now sitting on his little chair and staring up at her in wonder.

The sparkle that was glowing in her eyes while painting disappears as soon as she looks at him.

"You'll learn by doing, not by looking, Hyunjin."- she says coldly, his name sounds like a curse from her poisoned lips.

And he painted, practiced for hours, days, weeks, years.

"Not good enough!"- his mother would scream at him over and over again, destroying whatever confidence he had in his abilities and whatever love had blossomed for the paintings he created.

Hyunjin had to be perfect, every movement needed to be calculated, every brush stroke purposeful, every color meaningful.

And even if it was perfect in his mother's eyes, which was rare and only happened after he had painted the same thing for the 100th time in the same night, he never got her approval, never got her love, never got a warm compliment.

"Finally! Do I always have to squeeze it out of you? Why don't you try harder next time and we won't be sitting here all night... Do you even want to go to the academy?"

"I do, I do."- Hyunjin nods quickly, his back straight and his fists curled in his lap.

"Then prove it, Hyunjin."

When his mother wasn't home, he would tiptoe to her studio and steal one of her canvases, taking it up to his room.

With curses on his lips, he would destroy the canvas, painting with no precision, not caring which colors go together, mixing everything and anything, only to rip it out later with warm tears pouring out his eyes.

She would yell at him not to touch her things, having a breakdown of her own. She never hit him except once, right before he finished high school and was about to attend the academy. He'd had enough of her insults and talked back, with venom laced in his words just like she had always spoke to him.

"Hah!"- his mother cackled as she stood next to him. "That's worse than a child's painting. You think you're worthy of the academy, worthy of being my son? You're gonna tarnish my name with your shit."- she spat.

Hyunjin felt rage boil inside him, years of the hurt that was aflame inside him was bursting through his veins, traveling to his fast-beating heart and manifesting itself into his shaking clenched fists.

"Fuck you."- is what he spat as he turned to look at her in the eye.

"What?"- she looked flabbergasted for a moment.

"Fuck. You."- Hyunjin repeated with a sick smile spreading on his face, enjoying the way her eyes widened and her mouth fell agape.

Her hand moved on it's own and collided with his cheek hard, reverberating in the big studio, redness instantly spreading on his skin as his flesh throbbed in pain.

"Talk to me like that again and I'll make sure you never paint again, you ungrateful little bastard."- she turned and left him alone, somehow he felt even worse now than before he dared to talk back to her.

Hyunjin sits in his room in Isaac's house, the window open wide as he looks at the colorful view before him.

The breeze that's picking up feels like a gentle caress of a lover, the sea waves dancing to it's quiet song are slow and calming, but the storm that was brewing far away is closer now.

Even if the sun is still shining, Hyunjin can see the dark clouds gathering in the distance, bringing in a wild storm that will soon rain down on the little island.

As he takes a deep breath in, the smell of rain is in the air, bringing a fresh feeling into his lungs.

His hands clutch his phone.

He thinks. And thinks. And looks at the clouds.

Hyunjin gets up abruptly, long, hurried strides taking him down to the pier.

The wind is picking up, the waves are now wilder and higher as he waits for his phone to turn on.

As soon as the screen lights up, a thousand messages and missed calls flood in, almost all of them from Charlie.

Hyunjin hovers over his manager's contact name, his finger twitching for a second.

"Hyunjin?! Hyunjin, what the hell?!"- Charlie screams into his ear, picking the call up in the same milisecond that Hyunjin clicked his name in.

"Where the hell are you?! Do you know how worried I was? I thought you were dead somewhere!"- Charlie keeps yelling, Hyunjin didn't expect this reaction from his manager.

"Ugh, I told you I needed to disappear for a while."

"Okay, but your phone was turned off the whole time! You could've at least texted me. Do you know how much trouble I could get in with you disappearing like this? People are asking things. And your last exhibition is almost completely sold out."- of course, that's what this is about.

It's about his work, not his well-being but what else could he expect?

"What do you want me to do about it?"- Hyunjin says with an indifferent undertone in his voice.

"I want you to come back with new paintings, that's what."- Charlie says with resolve.

"I can't go back yet."

"You can't? You can't come back yet?"- Charlie lets out an incredulous chuckle.

"Nope. I still have some-"

"Hyunjin, I don't care what, why or how but I need you to come back right now or I will find you and come get you myself."

Something capricious wakes up inside him and he realizes that his phone can be gps tracked so he just hangs up on Charlie, probably making him impossibly angry before he just turns off his phone again.

"Fuck you."- he smirks at his phone, the wind is wild around him, lifting up the big waves and crashing them onto the pier, a few drops of the salty water wetting Hyunjin's clothes.

He looks at the black clouds gathering closer and closer. He feels free in that moment, free of the restraints that have held him tied up for long. He knows there will be consequences to deal with later, but in this moment all Hyunjin cares about is seeing you, the woman he loves.

The cool air kisses your exposed skin as you stretch in your bed. It's Saturday and your shop is closed, leaving you with two free days that you hope to spend with Hyunjin.

You thought about maybe visiting him at Isaac's house since you haven't gone up there in some time so it would be nice to see Isaac as well.

You sit up and notice that the wind is picking up outside, playing with the curtains adorning your opened window.

You stand up and make your way to the window, taking a deep breath in, the fresh air waking you up instantly.

You can see the black storm clouds rolling from the distant sky and you smile to yourself. You've always loved thunderstorms and your garden was well guarded, enough to not get destroyed during storms but also somehow getting rain.

Your mother took care of it all, when it came to her flowers she cared about every little detail, while you were mostly left to your own devices.

Healing your own wounds, giving yourself words of encouragement, fixing your mistakes all by yourself.

It was a hard path to beat but it made you resilient and independent, and even though you blamed your mother for your inability to be vunerable, you were also somehow grateful to her.

You didn't need to depend on anyone, but every now and then you needed someone to lean on to.

Sometimes, you'd wished you had someone to hold you tightly and just tell you that everything is going to be okay.

And now after you've met Hyunjin, you'd wished that someone was him.

After your morning routine, you decided to visit your mother's grave.

It was a brisk ten minute walk in the crisp air and as her name came into view on the cold stone, you slowed down, the little bouquet you'd made for her placed down next to the withered one that you brought last time you were here.

You cleaned up a little and leaned your knees on the cold, hard stone.

With all the flowers she'd known and grown, her favorites were always daisies and that's what you brought to her every single month.

Your lips parted to speak.

"I met someone. I'm scared because I think I love him. What should I do?"- your voice is gentle and breaking in the middle of the sentence, tears gathering in your eyes.

But you're met with nothing but silence, just like you'd be if she was sitting next to you.

Letting yourself cry for a moment, your thoughts swirl. You can't let Hyunjin leave just like that.

You can't let him go, even though he's not yours.

You feel it in every fiber of your being, like every single cell that makes you up is begging for him, you need him like you need air to breathe.

The fear fuels you as you stand up with only one goal in mind.

To see Hyunjin, the man you love.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 2 - A Caring Man

Monster!König x she/her afab reader

CN: patriarchy & sexism, arranged marriage, speaking animals, dead fish, mentions of cannibalism, harassment, ableist speech, woohoo another drowning reference, toxic masculinity village edition

eventuell smut.

Beta-read by the wonderful @queenquazar

Cultural context notes:

I’m basing a lot on central and eastern european fairy tales.

The heron is a figure from an old fairy tale called the heron & the fox.

Masterlist

“What’s it like being married?” the king asked.

“Lot’s of work if you are doing it right.” The old man leaned back and fixed his pipe. 

The wooden ceiling above your bed was familiar and simple. Since you were a child, you had woken up to this sight since you could remember. Now, it was the most fascinating thing to stare at.

Cracks, textures, knotholes in the old planks– all of it was better to look at than to face the world outside of your little room.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you could summon back the night, the past days, the… quite a lot of time actually since you last been happy.

A sunray danced over your face.

Saichiki – as your mother had called them, little sun rabbits jumping around and reminding you that it was indeed day no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise.

You took a deep breath, opened your eyes and got up.

Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed before-

Wet.

You jolted back and peaked over the edge onto the floor.

A puddle of water covered the ground before your sleeping space. A trail of little puddles leading away from the water at your bed and out of the room. Careful not to step into the water again, you got up and traced the trail out of the room, into the empty kitchen and finally out of the door.

Confused, you looked into the garden.

In the middle of the path was a pile of freshly caught, still wriggling fish.

Quickly, you slammed the door.

König, you thought to yourself while sliding down the wood door, plopping on the floor.

You heard yourself choke as the memories as they returned: Your family was gone, your grandfather had promised your hand in marriage to a strange inhuman being from the swamps, you nearly drowned yesterday, and the people from the village you had grown up with, wanted you gone because bad things happened around you. Maybe they were right and you were cursed.

Maybe you were cursed not like in the old tales but as simple as an unlucky charm, drawing the worst lot out for everyone including yourself.

You buried your face in your hands, allowing yourself an honest moment to cry.

A knock on the door made you jolt back up again, jumping away from the door and staring at the tarnished knob

You listened.

Another knock.

“Go away!” you cried, hoping that König or whoever from the village had come to your house, would just leave.

Another knock.

Groaning, you got up and ripped open the door while reaching for the broom next to the door.

“I said go away!” you cried again, ready to swing the broom at whoever harassed you, before stopping in your tracks, the door bouncing slightly against the wall.

A heron stood before your door, next to the pile of fish.

“Huh?”

The bird looked at you before looking back at the pile of fish.

Confused, you raised the broom to shoo away the bird.

“Shoo! Shoo! Go away!”

It danced a few steps back before returning to its spot and looking from you to the fish and back again.

You grimaced, shivering in only your chemise in the early morning breeze.

“Listen, heron, if you want a fish, just take some. They are not mine!” you tried, feeling out of your debts. Why were you even trying to talk to an animal?

Naturally, the bird said nothing.

“Of course,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to the bird, as you turned to close the door.

The bird rattled, as if laughing.

“Girl,” it cackled, and you froze in horror at the sound of the speaking bird, “I’m not eating the fish the king caught you. He tasked me to make sure you eat them. ‘My bride is so light to carry,’ he said. ‘Make her eat some fish,’ he said.”

Horrified, you kept staring at the bird.

“Take the fish!” it cried, “Don’t make me wait on you, girl.”

You blinked in surprise at the slightly annoyed heron.

“R-right. Sorry,” you mumbled before remembering your grandfather’s tales and warning about speaking animals. Bowing slightly to the bird, “Can I get you something in return for looking out for me, master heron?”

Another rattle from the bird.

“You can leave me a chalice out in the garden with some of the fish you are going to cut. It would be much appreciated.”

“Will do.” You bowed again before putting down the broom and quickly grabbing a big bowl to collect the fish.

As you returned to get the fish, you were alone. The heron was gone. Alone in the garden, you picked up the fresh trout and one big carp from the ground, feeling the heavy weight of watching eyes on you.

You kept inside the house as much as you could for the rest of the morning, only leaving to get firewood and water to wash and cook the fish. The thought of having more eyes watching you made your stomach turn. And having to face one of the same villagers who thought you cursed? The thought alone sealed your convictions to keep to yourself. You traced the wooden chopping board before sliding your fingers over the used counter. Home, it was all home, even the slightest dent felt like it belonged there just like you belonged with this house.

You let yourself fall onto one of the chairs, taking a break.

Why did I take the fish?

You could not help but wonder why you had allowed a bird to intimidate you so much before getting up and filling a chalice with a bit of fish for the heron as promised.

Because it spoke and birds don’t speak.

You grimaced to yourself as you placed the chalice onto the windowsill. Better not test your luck with speaking animals.

The fish König got you was fatty, fresh, and delicious.

You could not help feeling slightly grateful for the food. Maybe König was not as bad as you had assumed, and he did not want you any harm.

Maybe-

You froze at the thought of König feeding and fattening you up only to eat you once it fit him. The memory of one of many of your grandfather's tales rose up in your mind, like the pieces of fish rose up in the cooking broth.

“Open up, Wench!”

You flinched under the harsh words as someone knocked against the wooden door.

“Open up!”It was Ivar. Back in the days, he had been a friend to your father. Now, he was the first to terrorize you as the cursed girl.

“What do you want, Ivar?” you called through the closed door while stepping closer, clutching the broom again. It was better to ask before letting the mob leader in. And it was better to be armed with a broom than regretting not to.

“What do you want, wench?” he shouted, “I told you to leave yesterday. Yet, here you are! Nobody wants you here, bitch!”

Bile rose in your throat. It was bitter to discover the people you had grown up with turned against you so easily.

“This is my home, Ivar!”

He snorted dismissively, “This was your grandfather’s home - an honorable man. And you cursed and killed him, just like you killed all the others! I am not waiting for you to kill the rest of the village!”

“I have not killed anyone!” you cried. Fear, sadness, and anger – a lot of anger – tinting your voice.

“Don’t lie to me, witch!” Ivar spat, “You killed them! You killed them all. And now all that is left is you in this once honorable house. Leave or I’ll make you!”

You flinched.

“This is my home,”you whispered before raising your voice, “This is my home, Ivar! I’ll never leave!”

Cold and hot shivers washed over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Ha! You are a woman!” Ivar retorted with spite, “Only men can own land. You are so vile that no one even wanted to marry you for your family’s land. You are cursed! Leave before you kill us all!”

Hot tears spilled over your face.

Anger boiled in your stomach. But sadness kept you from shouting back at Ivar, sadness, and betrayal. It was as if Ivar did not need to drag you from your own home to punch all fight out of your body. With shaky hands you gripped the broom, trying to calm your agitated breath.

“Why would anyone marry for land?” a different voice asked.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

König.

“Now, marrying for water that I would understand,” König mused, “but land?”

A confused pause transfused through the wood door to you.

“Are you an idiot?” Ivar finally asked angrily, “Who are you, stranger?”

“König. The question is rather who are you to shout at my fiancé, little man?”

Another powerful pause before Ivar broke with a loud and dismissing, “What? You are lying!”

This was it, you realized, this was your chance of getting rid of Ivar and the villagers.

With a swing, you opened the door, wiping away your tears.

Ivar nearly filled out the door frame, but König easily loomed over Ivar, standing a couple of steps away in the garden. He stared down with an amused smile, cold blue eyes transfixed on the smaller man.

“No, he is not,” you declared while pushing your way past Ivar and stepped close to König, “This is König, my fiancé. Leave us alone, Ivar.”

“As if anyone would marry the cursed girl,” Ivar remarked despairingly.

“A curse?” König peeped curiously while slightly leaning into the space between you and Ivar.

You shifted around uncomfortably. “They say I am cursed because my family died, König.”

He turned his head and eyed you for a moment. You returned his curious gaze, he looked different now – human.

 “Intriguing. I’m a truly lucky man.”

“Are you insane?” Ivar gasped.

A quick smile flashed over König’s face.

“Insane?” he asked with a friendly tone that indicated entirely not friendly intentions, while stalking closer to Ivar, “Tell me – Ivar, right? Tell me Ivar, is it smart to harass the girl that you say is so cursed, she brings death to anyone close? Yet, you can’t get enough of yelling at her from as close as possible?”

Another step closer.

“Or, tell me, is it smart to anger the stranger who is willing to marry this cursed girl? Am I not the dead-man-walking then who has nothing to lose according to you?”

He straightened up, towering massively and glaring down at Ivar. You couldn’t pry your eyes from König, large and imposing, silent as a whisper as he unfolded the foolishness of Ivar’s so-called reasoning. 

“Or is my fiancé not cursed and you have no reason to be here, making you nothing but a petty man preying on those he can target easily? Uh, Ivar, tell me? What will it be?”

Another quick smile danced over König’s face, dangerous, entirely inhuman.

You shivered.

Ivar, feet still firmly planted, had leaned his shoulders from König, trying to create distance, and in his attempts, shifted around slightly, before looking around and finally, to the ground.

“This is not over, Good day,” Ivar mumbled and stepped away before turning around and walking out of the garden.

You both stayed and watched him trott off until he vanished between the trees and bushes, breathing a slow exhale once out of sight.

“What kind of curse is it?”

You turned your head, facing König.

“I’m sorry?”

“What kind of curse is it?” He repeated, “is it by a witch or by another human or something else? And how does it work?”

“I don’t know?”, you huffed, stepping away and crossing your arms before you defensively while fighting the incoming tears. “I am not cursed. I think. I hope. It’s only what Ivar says to make me leave the village. He wants my family’s fields and my home. It could be nothing but a convenient lie.”

“How disappointing.”

You blinked in surprise. Disappointing?

“You would have preferred me to have a curse, König?”

He shrugged, “I certainly wouldn’t have minded it. How dangerous can a little human curse be after all? And it could be practical to have curses to keep annoying men like Ivar away, don’t you think?”

You considered his words. It’s not like you wanted to believe him, but the thought of keeping anyone away with a curse - real or not - felt more comforting than you would have wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you conceded, “But I would prefer not to be cursed, or have Ivar show up at my doorstep claiming that I am.”

“Do not worry about Ivar anymore, my bride,” König said before turning to the house. “I smell fish cooking. Is that the fish I got you?”

Your head whipped around. The Soup!

“Oh no, I forgot it!”you cried before running back to the house and to the fire. Quickly, you grabbed a rag before taking the hot iron pod to move it off the hot flames. It smelled fine, not too burned. Yet, the bottom of the pot felt like it had started to burn slightly as you stirred and tasted the meal.

At least one good thing today, you thought to yourself while taking a deep breath.

A little knock on the door made you look up. König standing in the door frame, looking all green and tangled again like you remembered from the pond. Briefly, you wondered how he did that.

“Everything alright?” He asked, peeking into the house, his skin shimmering like water reflecting sunlight before appearing nearly human again.

“Uhm,” you tilted your head and looked away, “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

He eyed you silently, clearly not believing you before finally mumbling, “Alright, you are as good of a liar as an otter. Don’t worry, my bride, I’ll have the heron watch your house in case Ivar returns.”

“Oh, so that’s how you knew he was here,” you stated dejectedly. Even the bird was watching. Was there any way to escape all this with so many eyes on you?

He grumbled before stalking into the room.

With a shriek you stepped back but he was before you, bowing down to you.

Terrified, you froze in your spot.

“Don’t worry, bride,” he said, “I may not know much about your human customs. But, I know that I am expected to keep you safe. No harm will befall you anymore.”

You stared up at him.

Blue, watery eyes you did not understand. Eyes, so profound. You felt like falling into deep waters. As you stared, it recalled the calming waters of the swamp, the gentle sway of laping rivers. Waters that carried the same oaths and secrets and security you were almost granted the day before as you stared and stared and stared-

He blinked and smiled, his eyes suddenly just blue eyes, the profane dissipating like fog in the bogland.

You gasped for air, suddenly feeling your lungs constricted and your skin going cold and damp.

“I’m glad you want to marry me,” he said and straightened up again, “I worried that I might have scared you yesterday. But you called me your fiance, so you must not fear me.”

He chuckled darkly while drawing your form into a hug.

“Ivar on the other hand, has plenty to fear now after picking a fight with the king of under the water.”

[maineshewrote]

I-just-started-s4e10-thoughts:

I will actually be so mad if Marshall reveals that Sazz was stalking the trio.

I love how when the creative team comes up with something, even something tiny and trivial, they stick to it. Like how Charles sends his break-through-in-the-case messages: all caps and twice. (see: Kimber doesn't have her hankie! and Sazz's protégé is Marshall P. Pope!)

It's so heart-warming to get to see Sazz and Charles working together on Uncle Brazzos, too, and to see a real "tap in" moment (plus the resurrection of the "whole new direction" line). And well done for the creators for getting the Brazzos director from season 2 back.

Yes, while my heart is still in tatters, why don't you rip it apart just a little more by showing us how much Sazz was really hurting and how valiantly she refused to let Charles see it. Sazz considered Charles her hero, but it was also the other way around.

The guys think this is when the next body drops? Oh, it dropped all right. It dropped a few hours ago at the hospital and I am in mourning. Also, the guys haven't really solved the case yet, as in the killer is still at large, so there's still time with the actual new murder in the building.

Yeah, we've all been terrified that Loretta would be next, but you know what? I don't think she will be.

If you don't want people to call the police, you don't start your text message with, "Call the police..." Marshall really is shit at writing.

The decorations!! Wohoo! I said the titles needed wedding decorations, didn't I?

Also in the opening titles: Howard casually flailing the beer box along.

Mabel is a genius. Moving on.

"All he does is let in murderers." The underrated brilliant comedy in that statement.

Okay, but now I'm certain that Lester is gonna die. (see: older post for more info) When he said they're having a wedding and a good day, that was just such an unlucky omen. He's totally gonna get killed and it'll just be so damn sad.

I think it's absolutely fabulous that Loretta is wearing the doll's bracelet from her proposal on her ring finger like an engagement ring.

The braids are on point in this episode. Last time they were a little askew.

I love seeing Oliver finally stepping up and setting his priorities straight, as he usually does towards the end of the season. Right now it feels like Oliver's rash decision-making in Loretta's favour is going to make Loretta realize that, just like Oliver is ready to leave everything he knows behind for her, Oliver, too, is more important to her than her show. This revelation could have her quitting her show to marry Oliver and live happily ever after at the Arconia. We're going to need Dickie to be there for the wedding anyway, so Loretta could take this opportunity to ask him to get her out of the show and try to find her some work that would be closer to home.

Very good balance of courage and reasonable fright in Charles on the ledge.

I think it was very beautifully done, on that ledge where Charles needed someone to tap in, this showing how Oliver has now taken over from Sazz as Charles's best friend.

Thank you, friendly neighbours! I just appreciate the side characters so much. Where would we be without them?

What a stunning and heart-wrenching performance from Jane Lynch.

It warms my heart that Sazz went to see Charles in Death Rattle Dazzle. (It also explains how she could have been whistling the Pickwick Triplets right before she was shot.)

And the not-tinsel is explained! This was the only piece of evidence that was still unexplained until now. It's such a relief when everything comes together. (So that bitch Marshall not only stole the script, he also stole Sazz's sentimental fireproof vest. I know Sazz gave it to him to use on his stunts but he should have given it back after his stunt career was cut short.)

Also a huge relief is that Sazz's memory was not tarnished one bit. She really was an absolute angel.

It's interesting that the burning stunt incident was actually only there to establish Sazz and Rex/Marshall's connection and to provide the trio with and tie up some leads. For a while I was convinced the burnt stuntman would have blamed Sazz for what happened.

Sazz loving and trusting Charles right 'till the end has me crumbling.

I take back everything even vaguely unkind I've ever thought about Jan. What a beauty, this loyal stylish revenge!

Long live the Arcatacombs!

Winnie is back! (But seriously, where is Mrs. Gambolini?)

You always know just what to say, Uma...

I was right with my prediction about the two sons giving Loretta away. (see: much older post)

Utterly perfect choice to have the Ah, Love! theme from season 3 returning for the wedding, plus having Nat King Cole's tender "When I Fall in Love" there.

But Charles could keep the Belgian shoulder. Maybe?

There was no doorman on duty, she said. There we have it. It was Lester. (Also I couldn't care less about the missing man from the hospital TV yet.)

Bringing back the "Where have you been?" was such a lovely touch to this tender goodbye.

Just realized this is the first time we hear Loretta say she loves him.

Now that ending was gruesome.

Does it count if he technically died outside of the building? Or maybe we find out the body was moved, then it's all according to the rules.

[onepiecc]

The female knew that her uncle would not hand anything over to her as she had to work for anything she had received so far. Unlike her father at least her uncle did not discriminate based on gender. Her father wanted a son to carry on their family name, so when she was first born her father wanted a second child until he got his son. She worked hard to build her own reputation, even though she was not strong like her uncle and fought for their people, she had paved a way within their social society of her generation. Cosima had clawed her way to the top by getting rid of anything that stood in her way and anyone that was deemed unworthy of their name. Her brother was a spoiled brat that tarnished their legacy and it would have been only a matter of time before he had made a foolish mistake that would have cost the whole family dearly. The goddess knew her brother and noticed how he looked at other divine goddesses as if he was a vermin or animal in heat that would attack them at any point. It sickened her so she made sure to put the rabid animal down. Then her father was weak from the very moment he had been born, he should never have been allowed to grow up, but she figured her grandparents did not notice his flaws with her uncle overshadowing him in every way. Her eyes narrowed as she would not give up when she was so close now, so if her uncle wanted something worthy to carry out his legacy, then she would provide him the heir he craved. However, the only candidate she deemed worthy of her attention was a fallen divine being. His status ripped away from his foolish parents and even as he had tried to gain it back, the damage was done. Maybe she could offer him salvation in exchange for his seed that was at least divine heritage. This fallen dragon had clawed his way from the ground up even though his wings were pulled from his body, he still made his way towards the heavens.

The only person that was worthy was locked up in Impel Down, even though he had fallen so low to become a sea rat and a lesser world nobleman, he still had the divine blood that coursed through his veins. His only value was that as she cared for nothing else. Even though he had fallen, he was still a better choice in intelligence and strength compared to the divine beings of her generation. “Yes, there is one fallen dragon that has caught my attention and I’ve done my research on him for this exact purpose. Donquixote Doflamingo.” The female’s heart was racing inside of her chest as she knew that this prize was something that would not be easily won, even if with the help of her uncle and his legacy. The Donquixote family had fallen so low that most don’t even acknowledge the name anymore. However, it was not that family name nor a husband she wanted, only his divine genes and seed was all she desired.

Folding her hands over her lap, she straightened her posture in her chair as she was going to wait to see if her uncle was interested in her argument on why this person had caught her eye. “I understand, a fallen celestial is not desirable, but it’s not the name or the person itself I would be after. You stated just a child and nothing else, so the seed from a fallen divine will still be useful for the purpose of having a child. Plus unlike current divine children, this one would provide better quality seed potentially too for a strong and worthy heir of your legacy.”

He said his peace to her, what she wanted, was something he had the power to give to her, without a shadow of a doubt, he could snap his fingers and hand it over, because the lands, the wealth, all of it, he was an old man, what did he need all of this for anyway, it was not as if he was going to have the chance, to truly enjoy it anyway, he was going to be gone from this world in time, and when he was, all that remained would be his legacy, his deeds and his name. That was the most important thing of all, the name remains as the people die and are removed from the story, the name stands and if there was no one left to carry it on, then that would fade in time as well, give it a handful of years and the world would have moved on forward and it would have been as if he had never even been here in the first place.

“That is all that matters in the end, you know this.” As he stood up and over her and looked down, she wished to be better, to have what she believed was owed to her, he was not as soft, fat and lazy as the others, who spoiled there family and well - she only had to look around to see the results within the end of it all, what has happened to them, what has become of them, most of them, are fools, he could say it, who was going to stop him and stand up to him, sickening to see what has become of the perfect people that stand higher than all the others within the world, as he would stare at her. “Who then?” A fallen one then, was something that would take his interest, there are only a few within the world, but if he knew her, the one she was speaking about.

Would not be so easily gained.

He had a child, and it had been lost countless years ago during his clash against the greatest pirates who ever lived, as he fought them and reminded them on that day, as powerful as they might be, as feared as they are as well, they are pirates, and nothing more than that, nothing they can do and nothing they can ever say, would change this, nothing that they would do going forward would ever undo the stain they had, and he had crushed them and ended the greatest pirate crew and the claimed strongest man in the world, he had bested them all with the marines, at a cost, now he was looking to correct that mistake, and ensure his legacy, not her own, but his own, would continue. The name only means something anyway.

Because of him.

[shotorozu]

I have so many cute, fluffy requests but lemme drop this one! I’d love to request head cannons of Bakugo, Shinsou, Kirishima, and Mirio being dared to lay on their crush’s lap. Y/N is chilling on the couch on her phone, unaware of this. So these bois fulfill the dare and of course Y/N is surprised but she always liked them and doesn’t think she’ll have an opportunity like this again, so what does she do? Place her phone down and gently rubs their head with one hand and cheek with the other with a tender smile and even calling them cute.

laying on their crush’s lap

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, togata mirio

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, but a f! reader, quirk’s not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff

note(s) : i want to apologize for not uploading yesterday! i was quite hoarded with school work, but just so you know— i do see your requests :)) i also wrote this at 3am by the way so.. no proofread rn but i will later!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

ugh— first of all

bakugou is not one for dares. he thinks dares are quite useless, and irrelevant

however, it was either him; bakugou katsuki, being labeled a chicken or

laying his head down on Y/N— his crush. it doesn’t seem so bad to be honest

but.. the problem is that no one excluding the bakusquad has an idea of his feelings towards you

little did he know, you also harbor feelings towards him.

his pride.. can’t be hurt from something like this. nah, that’d be embarrassing

so he decides to go through with the dare.

after dinner, and briefly before he goes to sleep—

he enters the ground floor, and walks past the common room, where the bakusquad was just chilling at

you’re sitting beside them, just chilling on your phone— while listening to their antics

the bakusquad’s just staring at him, with a knowing look adorning their expressions

bakugou blinks, and he can sigh irritatedly— as he walks towards the couch, standing in front of you

carmine eyes practically glaring at you, waiting for you to notice his intense stare locked on you

with the bakusquad staring in anticipation, waiting for something to happen

you eventually notice (i mean, how could you not?) and you can only tilt your head “what’s up with you??” you question him with a light hearted tone

he doesn’t say much, only sighing before immediately dropping down and settling his head on your lap

you immediately grow flustered, suddenly aware of how soft his ash blond hair is (despite it’s rather.. spiky appearance)

the bakusquad’s just like “HOLY SHIT- he actually did it!” and it’s suddenly.. a lot more chaotic. 

the blond shifts his position momentarily, red eyes staring up at you as they scan your expression for any sign of rejection

taking in your sheepish expression, and the fact that you gave him nothing but a rather.. contagious smile, he takes that as a good sign 

but he’s surprised when you set down your phone, and attaching one hand onto his head- petting luscious blond pieces of hair

he blinks- genuinely pleased by this action and the bakusquad goes beserk

“is that good enough for you, dumbasses?” he asks switching back to his usual self, and they don’t give him much of an answer- only sending him cheeky looks.

when it’s time to go back to your rooms, bakugou suddenly breaks the silence.

“based off your reaction, i could say you like me back.” bakugou says it in such a soft tone, which is very out of character

you can only nod, and before you guys part ways, bakugou grabs the courage to grab your face and kiss you love the pining

hitoshi shinsou

it was definitely kaminari that asked him to do this, i mean.. when was it not-

recently joining the hero course in his second year, finally after working hard for his spot in the class- he became classmates with you

the person he’s been crushing on for the last year or so.

again, hitoshi’s pretty chill when it comes to dares and class games, but he’s not someone that would indulge in them regularly.

but kaminari, being quite the social butterfly he is, waltzed over to the recent addition to their class

and asked him to lay his head on your lap. since he was having his suspicions of shinsou having a crush.

shinsou’s thinking like.. “damn, he definitely knows. i mean, he’s probably the only person that knows.”

thing is, he’s probably the least bold out of all of these characters. 

like.. he kinda wants to do it because it’s you but he’s also considering your feelings

oh boy.. if only you knew.

and he doesn’t want to embarrass you either. so he's just having a heart time just finding the perfect moment. 

scanning the hallway of any people, he pads right across it as he enters the common room

he’s surprised to see you chilling on the couch.

you squeak out a small noise startled by the sudden appearance of another person, but they immediately calm down realizing it’s shinsou

“didn’t expect to see you there,” you laugh, and he could only chuckle at your reaction, as he stand next to the couch 

his stomach is practically swarming with butterflies, but he replies anyway “you’re not staying in your room?”

“i didn’t realize how late it was,” you smile, “what’re you doing down here?”

“just getting a glass of water,” shinsou replies simply, silently trying his best to calm down his racing heart, shifting to stand infront of you 

it’s silent for a few seconds, and it feels like forever. but shinsou concludes that he might as well do it now. 

there's no one here to question his actions anyway.

dropping down, he pushes his head onto your lap- which surprises you because you never expected hitoshi shinsou; your crush 

to just.. suddenly settle his head on your lap. 

you’re flustered, but you love how the peaceful look on his usually tired out face.

placing your hand on his head, fingers weaving through purple locks- you allow a moment to pass by 

breaking the silence, you speak “how cute,” 

shinsou raises an eyebrow at your comment, and stands right up- walking away from the cut short moment. 

“where are you going?” you ask, since how could he just do that and walk away so casually?? 

“getting water, like i said.” the corner of his lips turn up slightly. “i’ll see you later. maybe we could do this more.”

you don’t reply- and shinsou could only laugh at the way you owlishly blink “now who’s the cute one now?” he pokes fun at your bewildered- yet cute expression, and it’s not long before he disappears into the hallway 

the next day, kaminari experiences such a field day when he finds out he did it. he could tell by the sheepish look on your face.

kirishima eijirou

who’s the one that dared him? it was mina and kaminari

similar to bakugou, the bakusquad’s the only one that has a slight idea of your crush, and that includes bakugou 

to his dismay

so they dared kirishima to do this because it might just give you guys a head start. and they also wanted to see kiri’s reaction.

at first, kirishima was pretty reluctant regarding this dare, because.. how tf is he gonna do this??

is it unmanly to just.. walk up to you and plop his head right down onto your lap? 

what if he tarnished what y’all have? he wouldn’t say it’s a relationship yet, but your relationship’s at a pretty good place right now. 

it was bakugou that convinced him to do the dare because “just do it, idiot. it might do you something good for once.” 

he only said this because he wanted them to shut up ngl

so if his bestie- bakugou is telling him to a dare then.. it’s probably a sign to do it. 

shaking off the nervousness, kirishima walks off to find you- because the sooner the better, right?

you’re just doing your own thing, as you chill with mina on the couch. seeing the red head- mina sends a quick expression that practically tells him to go for it

kirishima gulps, nervously- and he enters the area, you’re suddenly aware of his presence. 

“oh, hi kiri!” you greet him casually, and he waves back at you, butterflies tickling his stomach. 

no need to feel nervous eijirou, just.. do it.

breathing in, he immediately kneels down on the floor right infront of you

you’re startled when you suddenly feel weight on your lap, and you’re visibly flustered seeing your own crush resting his head on your lap

mina’s making train noises right now, but she’s trying hard to not make a huge deal out of it (but how could she not, really? she’s tired of seeing both of her friends pinning over each other.)

“sorry, Y/N” kirishima apologizes, yet he doesn't see the slightest hint of discomfort. 

you laugh, smoothing your head over his head, his face practically rivals his dyed hair. “if you wanted to lay your head on my lap, you could’ve said so, cutie.”

wait.. so does that mean you like him too? 

mina couldn’t contain herself, as seeing the heavens as y’all interact. rip 

togata mirio

shy? that’s so funny. 

is that a thing with mirio togata? this is the same man that fought class 1-A butt ass naked. 

there’s no shame detected in his bloodstream. more like.. he just knows how to hide it well.

nejire dared him to lay his head on your lap, because she wanted the both of you to just “get together already!!” 

and she also wanted to see your reaction.

tamaki’s just like “uh.. won’t Y/N spontaneously combust though?” 

mirio legit has no shame, this guy is the sole definition of ‘where’s my hug at?’

would not care about the location because a dare is a dare. the next time he sees you sitting outside of school hours

he’s sitting on that lap. end of the discussion.

you’re sitting on the couch of the dorm’s common room, and you’re just waiting for a text from nejire and tamaki 

(since you and mirio aren’t classmates with tamaki and nejire, you guys try to meet up with each other as much as y’all can.)

mirio walks into the common room, and he’s glad to see you just sitting there. 

now would be a good time!

calling your name out cheerfully, he approaches you-”Y/N, hi!” he grins as he approaches you, nothing seems off. 

“hi mirio- wait,” your greeting is cut off short when he sets his head on your lap, humming immediately as he savors the pleasant feeling. 

“w-what’re you doing?” 

“laying on your lap! it’s pretty comfortable here. have i told you that yet?” 

you shake your head, experiencing a loss of words. 

he can only grin, eyes shimmering with joy- absolutely loving the expression on your face. 

“you’re too cute, mirio. if you asked me out right now, i wouldn't be too mad at the idea.”

blinking up at you, he asks “well? will you?” 

“of course.” 

nejire and tamaki’s watching the scene from outside, and tamaki had to restrain nejire from squealing too hard. 

thanks nejire :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading! 

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing. 

do not steal my work :))

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

[rayofsunas]

chasm | albedo

A/n: hi everyone! I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe <33 as you can see, I’m back on my albedo bs, so I decided to write this out finally 🥺🥺 and omg let me just say, I love this so much! . thank you to my very special anon “🌱” you know who you are, for requesting this! ❤️ I’ve decided the reader is female, but if anyone would like a male or gender neutral version, let me know! I also kinda did my own take on this since it’s not explained what Albedo’s “darker side” is. enjoy everyone!! ❤️

Summary: albedo has been gone for an awfully long time, somewhere in Dragonspine. you’re worried about him, naturally, so you go look for him. he’s refusing help for some odd reason, and you find that he’s having trouble. you let him know you’d never even think of leaving his side, no matter what.

Parings: Albedo/Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word count: 2.2k

The ashy blonde hadn’t been down from Dragonspine in weeks, nearly a full four months. And you couldn’t lie, you were growing worried. 

It wasn’t unusual, pretty typical behavior for the genius alchemist actually. But, by now he would’ve sent a letter of some sort, clueing somebody in on his whereabouts, if he needed more supplies, etc. He hadn’t done that yet. And you were afraid he probably wouldn’t. 

Sucrose was the last to speak to him, which happened to be two months ago when he sent her down the mountains, back to Mondstadt. She had told you that he was fine when she left, busy dissecting some strange specimen he’d found. Typical Albedo entranced and focused on everything the mysteries the world had to offer. 

You didn’t mean nor want to rain on his parade, but you would have to make the journey to Dragonspine and check on him. You couldn’t just sit here, as his friend and lover. 

It was a surprise after the third month that Jean hadn’t sent a team to check on him, but then it all made sense when she explained her reasoning. The only thing stopping her from sending a team up to check on him was the fact that all of the able soldiers were either injured or off on missions; Kaeya was off on some personal business away from Mondstadt, Varka and his team were still on their long strenuous mission, the Honorary Knight was still in Liyue, and Hertha wasn’t authorized to travel outside of Mondstadt.

It was a relief you were the captain of the exploration team, tasked with exploring Teyvat, bringing back information for maps to be drawn, possible paths to be made, and finding new lands. You, on the other hand, were authorized. It was just a matter of getting permission from the Acting Grand Master. 

“Jean, may I please have the authorization to take a small team with me to Dragonspine?” You asked the blonde who seemed to be busy filling out paperwork. Most likely configuring new formations and teams, since the majority of the soldiers were unable to travel right now. 

“All able soldiers are unavailable,” She reminded you, eye’s briefly lifting from the wordy documents, before glancing back down to write something. “If you wait a few days, I can send a team up with you to find Albedo.”

A few days. You had a feeling she would tell you that. That wouldn’t work...

You rocked back and forth on your heels, “Excuse my impatience, but I’d prefer to leave now.”

She stared at you, eyes empty for a while, thinking, though a brief smile shaped her lips. “Do you believe you can make the trip by yourself?” 

Sure, the cold was something you weren’t accustomed to, but you’d do anything for Albedo. Even travel aimlessly through a snowstorm. You nodded eagerly. 

“If you’re not back within three days' time, I will send a few soldiers after you.” She explained. 

“Thank you.” She bowed her head. 

“Good luck, Knight.”

- 

Thankfully, you remembered the general location of Albedo’s hideout in Dragonspine. You could thank your excellent memory - having trained your brain for years mesmerizing back roads and maps - visiting more than once also made it much easier as well.

You reached Dragonspine within a few hours and made the trek up to Albedo’s hideout in less than two hours. The sky was greying the higher you got and the snow only seemed to fall quicker and land on your exposed cheeks like sharp pellets. A snowstorm was approaching, you noted, you better hurry.

Venturing deeper into the medium-sized jut out in the mountain, you could see a single small flame, lighting up the back end, but other than that, the cave was encompassed in darkness. 

“Albedo?” You called out to your lover, noticing an onslaught of shrewd books, some open, some with pages ripped and torn, only a few had the luck of not being tarnished. “Are you here?” You asked again, the only response was the echo the cave shot back. 

Though, in a heap on the floor by the fire, you found exactly what you were looking for. As you approached, the flames became more visible and now you could see more of Albedo. He was oddly on his side, leaning against the back of the rocky cave wall, legs loosely curled into his chest. More of those books he adored so much were shrewd around him, along with his own notebooks, filled with scribbled words.

“Albedo!” He didn’t appear to be moving, only when you practically flung yourself at him was when you saw shallow breaths, chest moving faintly. Furthering your inspection, you gripped his arms and leaned down to his chest, putting your ear right to where his heart is.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You sighed, forehead lowering onto his chest out of relief. He was alive, thank goodness. 

You still couldn’t see his face though. Ashy blonde hair shielding it, soft bangs hiding his eyes. The only thing your eyes saw was the shape of his lips and the bridge of his nose.

“What’re you doing here like this?” You asked, hoping he would just look at you. His uncharacteristically odd positioning and the fact that he hadn’t even uttered a word yet were enough to leave you concerned.

Maybe his time in the icy mountains, in solitude, was not beneficial to him like originally thought...

“Can you speak?” You asked, confused as to what was going on. Maybe he was too cold to speak. You noted from gripping his arms earlier, that they were ice cold, goosebumps on usually unmarred, soft skin. The small fire was doing nothing to keep him warm and you weren’t sure if he had any warming bottles or Goulash left... Presumably not, hence the reason he was as cold as ice. The real question was, why was he still here, suffering like this, in the cold? Despite popular belief, he knew when to leave dangerous environments when they were a threat to him; all knowledge, research, and experiments aside. No, this was something different... Something was terribly wrong. 

“I have a few warming bottles,” You explained, reaching into your cloak pocket, slender fingers enclosing around the small bottom, taking it out of your pocket. “I know these things aren’t entirely useful, but it'll help warm you up for a little while.”

“No, don’t waste them on me, please,” He whispered. Hissing in pain, reaching for his head. “You need them to get back down the mountain.” The alchemist said lastly. 

“Waste them?” You whispered to yourself, ignoring your questions when you heard him hiss. “You’re in pain,” You stated, eyes narrowing to search for any sign of blood or wound. None from what you could see. “I’m not going down the mountain without you.”

Were his wounds internal? His head seemed to be hurting. You weren't a doctor, but maybe it was from the cold, that was plausible. A headache of sorts, a symptom of hypothermia, though you hoped that weren’t the case... 

He needed to be warmer, as soon as possible. “Would you like my cloak? Here.” You were already shrugging your cloak off and draping it over his shoulders before you even got a reply. 

“Please,” He started, sluggishly easing the article of clothing off of him. “Put that back on, you’ll freeze to death, love.” 

Archons, why did he have to be selfless? He was already in a much, much, worse state than you, and he was still worried about your wellbeing. You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “You’re already beating me to it and I won’t allow that.” You said, refusing the cloak. More heat, you needed more heat.

You gripped his shoulders, letting him know you were still here. “I’m going to start some more fires, stay put, okay?” With that, you stood and took out some matches. A few small piles of dead leaves and twigs were already around the cave, they’d long ago burnout, but you would take it. You were thankful you didn’t have to leave the cave, leave Albedo. 

As you lit each of the dead piles of nature, Albedo muttered, “You need to leave me here,” He then paused, you heard shifting and rustling. With a quick worried glance back, you saw him trying to stand, your cloak falling to the ground. “Get the-” Another pause. It seemed another headache washed over him. “Honorary Knight...” Forgetting the last pile, you rushed towards him, grabbing his lower arms gently, hoping to steady him. 

“Lumine,” You said, “She’s in Liyue, I’m afraid she’ll be there for a while.” You usually would’ve sent a sassy retort back his way, playfully of course. But the seriousness of this situation stopped you. Good choice, Y/n.

He repeated, “Leave me here.” Your head shook. You weren’t leaving without him, you just wouldn’t. You had this awful gut feeling that if you left, he wouldn’t be here when you returned. 

“No, I’m here to bring you home.” You explained. 

His eyes still weren’t visible. “Home? No, not to Mondstadt. You can’t take me there.” 

“I wouldn’t take you anywhere else, other than there,” This wasn’t making sense... Why won’t he look at you? What is he hiding? Does he have an injury on his face? Taking him in your arms, you allowed yourself to hug him, hoping he’d open up and share his concerns. “Please, Albedo, let me see your face.”

His head shook profusely, trying to push you away, though failing. “I’m terribly afraid I can’t show you. It’s already happening- In less than an hour, you’re going to be in danger... You’re already in danger now.”

“Please don’t make me ask you to leave again.” His voice sounded weak, distraught, saddened. 

“You don’t have to, just tell me what I can do.”

A long pause. He was fighting with himself, it was obvious to you now. He sounded as if he was begging you to stay, his words were saying otherwise. But why?

“Leave...” He pleaded. 

“No,” You refused stubbornly. “I’ll do anything for you, leaving is not one of them.”

He hissed again, this time successfully managing to push you away, shuffling further back into the cave.

“You’re not making any sense, Albedo,” You said softly, following after him. “You’ve kept too many secrets. Not anymore, you can tell me.” Your lover fell to the ground again, this time landing on his back. You gasped, rushing over to him. 

As you stood over him, you could see his bangs were pushed off his sweaty forehead, his left arm splaying across his eyes; shielding them from you once again. But underneath it, you could see a faint glow. Red...

His teal, cerulean eyes were no longer present. Now a deep shade of red, alike to that of scarlet quartz, took over. Was this the fault of an experiment gone wrong? Had he been poisoned? A curse even?

Crouching down beside the alchemist, you wondered. “What’s hurting you...” A slender and delicate hand reached out to remove his arm. He fought back with all his strength to keep you from removing his arm, but eventually, you managed to succeed.

Now with his hand at his side, you were left staring at what he’d tried so hard to conceal. You were shocked to be staring at what you were, though not entirely scared. Any ounce of fear was towards the fact that whatever this was, was visibly and prominently hurting him, evident by the odd ways he hissed in pain and coddled his head. You weren’t afraid he’d harm you as he assumed. He never resorted to violence and he wouldn’t at a time like this; you trusted him entirely.

Albedo stayed quiet for some time and if it weren’t for the deep, unsteady breaths, you would have assumed he’d passed out from the fall. It sounded like complete and utter pain and suffering, but he was alive.

It was obvious all of the pain was a result of the glowing coming from his now, mysterious pair of eyes, you realized that now.

“I can see the glow...” You said, he momentarily stopped breathing deeply. Ashamed, disgusted, afraid. “I’m not afraid, I’m more worried about your wellbeing.”

The blonde smiled weakly, eyes glistening with tears. Relief? Sadness? Anger? You weren’t sure, probably all three and much more than he could ever say. “Wrongfully, selfless in this moment.”

“I could say the same about you, love.” You chuckled, remembering minutes ago how badly he’d been trying to save and protect you. 

Albedo weakly sat up, carefully scooting to lean his back against the stone wall, staring up at the cavern's ceiling. You followed him, reaching over to grab his hand, head laying on his shoulder. You could feel his hand trembling. Whether it be from fear, the cold, or the fact that something was overcoming him, you weren’t sure...

“I’m going to stay here with you, through whatever this is,” You admitted. “You’re not going through this without me.”

He nodded, eyes lulling shut. 

Stay awake for me please, I know it hurts but please.

“I love you.” He whispered, head falling on yours, breaths finally shallowing to a comfortable pace. He was steadying, at least for now.

“I love you, too.”

Of course, you meant what you said. You’d always mean it and you would never retract that statement. But, if you managed to survive this and not die from hypothermia, Albedo’s screams of pain and pleads for you to end him, would haunt you for the rest of your existence.

2.22.21, rayofsunas

[jodibodie]

I Have Some Feelings

To start let me just emphasize how much I love and adore this show and always will. This was my covid show. Both of my kids loved “Lucifer” and always said I should watch so at the start of covid I binged it and when I say binged, I mean all 4 seasons in a few days and have rewatched so many times I’ve lost count. I think it is timeless, engrossing, original and all around amazing. The writing and the cast were all excellent. The writing was smart and consistently strong and that is so rare.  Funny, sad, poignant, it hit all the notes with very few plot holes or missteps. There is not one episode in the entire series that was not engaging. Even if I didn’t like an episode, it was still well done. What a rarity.

The cast is scary good. Completely underrated. Just all phenomenally talented.  I don’t remember the last time a cast was this strong.  From the core group to both reoccurring and guest stars, the cast was just fantastic.  

Tom Ellis, no words.  The man deserves to choose whatever he wants to do acting wise. He should have people breaking down his door. He can truly do it all and do it all well. He took a character that if portrayed by a lesser actor could have come off as a complete asshole and made him one of the most sympathetic and loveable characters in recent history. Ellis made a crime solving devil, a promiscuous man-child that occasionally breaks into song and the evidence room into a beloved character that has become an icon.  

Lauren German, WOW.  She is just so damn good. She can break your heart one second and have you laughing the next. She makes Chloe real, and people don’t realize how hard that is. Chloe is smart, kind, tough and gorgeous but she’s also an insecure dork.  She’s us and German just brings it.  

DB Woodside I’ve loved since “Buffy”.  He is a phenomenal actor and who knew he could bring the laughs so well? His expressions were classic. Clueless angel indeed. Amenadiel could have been very one-dimensional but because of Woodside’s talent he became fully fleshed out and full bodied.  

I have no doubt Lesley-Ann Brandt has a huge career in front of her.  She took a character that very well could have been hated, a demon and made her into one of the most human characters on the show. Kudos to her for taking a tough role and making it her own.  

Kevin Alejandro is another actor I’ve loved for a long time.  He also took a character who if we’re going to be honest here did so many unlikeable things that he should have been truly despised but because of Kevin’s portrayal he was beloved. Great actor and a terrific director.

Rachael Harris IMO is the downlow MVP.  She was literally the rock and again, with a lesser actress the role could have been a throwaway. The normal human, the sounding board but Harris imbued her with so much more.  Her spit takes, sarcasm and her obvious compassion was what made Dr. Linda an unforgettable character. Once again just perfect casting.  

Aimee Garcia was a great addition. She made Ella a fan fav and put so much heart, joy and sincerity into Ella never once did you doubt that she would prevail no matter what was thrown at her.  Garcia was just fantastic, and I want her skin care regime.  

Scarlett Estevez pulled off the one thing I thought almost impossible.  She took the role of a young child and made it so I didn’t want to cringe. She portrayed Trixie so beautifully from day one that she was a true pleasure to watch.  Even though Trixie was super precocious Estevez never made her obnoxious. I loved Trixie and I have never said that about any child character in an adult show.  She was wonderful and has an amazing career in front of her.

That said, I’ve got some feelings now that I’ve seen the finale and have had some time to digest it all.  I love that Chloe and Lucifer had eternity and I agree that they had to be separated for Chloe’s lifetime. Didn’t like it but it’s the logical path. She’s human, he’s not. The ageing thing alone necessitated them not being together long term on earth and that’s just to start the list. They had to had to be apart for the short term to get their eternity but the duality of Lucifer's ending and Amenadiel's didn't sit right. Amenadiel as God got to have it all. His calling, his family etc. while Lucifer had to give up everything.  I also don’t buy the “If he came up from hell, he could never leave them again” defense.  I call bullshit.  Amenadiel managed, plus, missing out on the day to day is a huge sacrifice and by Lucifer missing out on the day-to-day Rory could still have had the hatred she needed to drive the story.  Popping in for birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc., the big stuff does not a father make.  Not being there for skinned knees, first heartbreaks, and all the little things a daughter needs her dad for can build up tons of resentment.  Boom, absentee father, just like his dad was. That provides all the millennial angel angst you could ask for. I have a daughter; it doesn’t take much.

The Trixie issue was huge for me. Can Chloe see her in Heaven? Will she be able to travel to Heaven and visit Trixie, Penelope, Dan, her father?  Chloe hesitated leaving Heaven in 5x16 because she couldn’t bear saying good-bye to her dad again. It seems as if Chloe sacrificed everything for Rory including Trixie. I want to preface this by saying. I liked Rory and loved the actress. I didn’t however like how it was as if she were their only child.  When Lucifer spoke of family Trixie was not mentioned. Their family day, the same thing. She didn’t need to be there, I get that the explanation regarding Rory would have been way too much to get into but just a mention of her, how awesome it would have been to share this day with her would have worked. It seemed as if Lucifer went from, “I would do anything to protect that little Urchin” to “Trixie who”. Trixie was a character that we watched grow up and she meant something to us. I hate to say this, but the writers did Trixie and the viewers dirty in this regard.

This show was built around a few premises.  Free will, honesty, redemption, sacrifice and family, both blood and made. The ending completely negated almost all of these.  Chloe and their entire family were made into the one thing Lucifer abhorred the most which are liars. Their daughter was brought up surrounded by lies. What did they tell Trixie?  The poor kid just lost her dad, and she was pissed at Lucifer when he went back to hell the first time. Did she grow up hating him because as far as she knew Lucifer left her mom again without saying good-bye and this time it was even worse because Chloe was pregnant.  I get that the actress who plays Trixie had limited availability but seriously. A quick good-bye.

“Hey Urchin, you won’t understand why for a long time, but I have to leave. You know I never lie so I can’t explain why but know that I love you and your mom and one day I hope you can forgive me.”  

A 30 second scene would have worked.

As all the characters learned throughout the series, omission of the truth is just a form of lying and there are always repercussions i.e., Chloe and Father Kinley, Dan shooting Lucifer, Maze finding out about Lilith and even Ella not being told. As far as free will, both Chloe and Lucifer had their free will taken from them in the end. By Rory forcing them to abide by her wishes, their free will was forfeited. It was a huge manipulation on Rory’s part and considering how much Lucifer hated manipulations it just didn’t sit right.

Parents making huge sacrifices I get. Chloe and Lucifer sacrificed everything for their child. Unfortunately for me this sacrifice, the way it was written seemed contrived to pull out maximum and IMO unjustified angst. I love angst.  Hell, this is my favorite show.  I thrive on the angst. But as I wrote earlier, all the anger, angst and hatred towards Lucifer could have been achieved without having Lucifer completely out of the picture. I have two kids and my husband, and I have made huge life altering sacrifices for them as many parents do but being there for the day-to-day little things was what made the difference in their lives and cemented the close relationships we have with them.

“Yeah, dad you were great. Showing up for the fun stuff, always swooping in for the big finish to play the hero then ditching us when things got tough. When Grandma was dying where were you?  Nice that you showed up for the funeral but the six months leading up to it…we needed you and once again you weren’t there. When T got sick, when Jen broke my heart, blah, blah, blah…”

Even the whole Chloe dying scenario. They could have written it that rage Rory traveled minutes before Lucifer got there. Have him pop in right after Rory comes back. There were so many ways to achieve the end game they wanted other than the way they went. It seemed contrived and as if they took the easy way out to get where they needed to go. The Rory rage that was the catalyst for her traveling back in time and Lucifer finding his calling could still have been accomplished without the whole Lucifer disappearing storyline.

Now that I’ve finished my diatribe there’s a couple of additional things I would like to say.  Lucifer is and always will be one of my favorite shows of all time. There are not enough words to describe the comfort and enjoyment this show has brought me. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the producers, cast and crew. You truly created something special.

To the fandom. Please do not let a polarizing conclusion rip apart the fandom. The only other fandom I was a part of tore itself apart so badly that the FBI got involved.  Hence why I waited for 15 years to dip my toe in again. Everyone invested in this show has the right to their feelings.  Debate is fine, baiting and bullying are not. The Lucifer fandom like the show is very special. Without the fandom we wouldn’t have gotten any conclusion so don’t let opposing viewpoints tarnish what has been a magical journey.  

[hes-writer]

Reign (3)

Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have

Warnings:  angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end

Word Count: 4881 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids

Tarnish (1)  .  Halo (2)  . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .

Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)

Error Taglist

____

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

___

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

___

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day. 

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

___

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

___

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

___

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

___

Let us know what you thought!

Trial aka pt 4 is already up on Patreon! (link in bio)

___

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla

[millllenniawrites]

delicate (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part six of dear love of mine

words: 1.9k

warnings: mention of hair but specifics aren’t given; reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; afab!reader; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; pining; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: it’s been ages since I updated this series but hello! We’re back! Reader is a mess and I love it! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

__

The late afternoon sun peaked out from behind the clouds and you basked in the light, tilting your face up to catch its rays. This was the reason you’d agreed to promenade all the way to town when you could have taken a carriage. The warmth, the light, the time outside, it was one thing who’s description in books just never measured up, no matter how talented the author.

Ana and Finn strolled ahead of you, close enough that your mother would have scolded them. Her elbow brushed his and their eyes met and you grinned like a fool, almost skipping beside the General. Your hand rested on his (very firm) bicep, which you used to keep a respectable amount of distance between the two of you.

Your dreams hadn’t fooled you. He did run warm. As warm as the sun that beat down on you both. You kept a light grip on him, scared he may be able to feel the way your heart raced through your palm if you held on any tighter.

The General leaned close enough to murmur, “It seems our plan is working well, Miss Dean.”

He was right, though you hated it. In the few days since he’d proposed his scheme, Ana and Finn had seemed to grow closer still. This whole excursion was Finn’s idea, to head into town. It worked out well that your mother had requested an order of fabric and that you could take over this task for your servants, who had been swamped preparing for the season ahead.

It would be Siena’s debut. She was still young, but your mother wanted to give her a chance to enjoy herself without the pressure of marriage on her first season.

You would be attending the parties too, as a chaperone. It would be easier to turn down suitors now that you and Poe had been seen in public together. Though when he began courting others, it might pose a problem.

He was well within his right to do so. It wasn’t as if the two of you were genuinely courting. Even if he was sweet. And had had flowers delivered to your bedroom two mornings this week.

You had tossed them out the window.

As you reached the edge of town, you stepped away from him, pretending that you needed both hands to lift your skirts. Luckily, the shop you had to pick up the delivery from was right along the road.

Finn bowed slightly to Ana before turning back to you. “We will collect your mother’s order.”

“We’ll be here.” Ana batted her eyelashes at him and you resisted the urge to groan.

This would make her happy. This was the entire point of putting up with the General at your side and his very warm, very large hands.

He stepped away from you, following Finn into the shop without so much as a backwards glance.

“So things with the General seem to be going well.” Ana’s elbow found a soft spot in your side and you coughed, which saved you from responding. “I never thought I’d see the day you let a man truly pursue you, sister.”

“This hardly counts as pursuit. And once the parties start, I’m certain he will get swept up with all the beautiful debutants.” One of those girls would do much better for a General, someone that had been instructed since birth on how to take care of a man and a household, rather than in matters of trade and employment and the upkeep of your property as you had.

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? I cannot imagine anyone else catching his eye the way you have.”

“A temporary interest, perhaps. But it is temporary.” And fake, though you couldn’t tell her that. She would most certainly object to any kind of meddling on your part, despite the fact that you had meddled and organized and made-happen most of her life.

The boys were quick. The General and Finn were at your sides moments later, the roll of fabric balanced over Finn’s shoulders. He looked like you imagined a sailor from one of your novels might, swaggering and sweet and able to carry double his weight if he chose to do so.

Those shoulders would be good for lifting children. And for taking care of your sister.

The General did not leave the shop empty-handed either. A small bag poked out of the pocket of his trousers, and he was clutching something tight in his hand.

“Miss Dean,” the General ducked his head, though his eyes didn’t leave yours. He held his hand up between you, opening it to reveal a pale golden ribbon. He smiled, small and almost timid, and something inside you melted. “May I?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure as to what he was asking. He stepped forward and looped the ribbon around your head like a circlet. His fingers brushed your soft skin as he secured it with a knot at the base of your neck. You shivered despite the heat, goosebumps running up your arms as you gazed into his eyes.

“Cold, Miss Dean?” He asked. Though his words were innocent, they were tinged with something darker. Something knowing, as if he could read your thoughts in your eyes.

“Just caught a chill.” You forced a smile, turning to your sister. “Shall we head home?” The stain in your voice was evident, and she hid her grin behind a gloved hand as you turned back for the road home.

As Finn found his place at Ana’s side and the General found his place at yours, you began to seriously regret not taking a carriage. The walk home seemed so much longer, each step like running through molasses.

“Miss Dean, you’re shaking. Once we are out of sight of the town, if it would make you more comfortable, you may wear my coat. I can imagine your mama would not take kindly to you taking ill from a stroll.”

“I am fine,” you hissed, stepping even further away from him.

A carriage barrelled down the road towards town. And towards you.

You were nearly fully in the road, and the General reached for your elbow to guide you back out of the way. “Miss Dean, I must insist—“

“You will insist nothing.” You wrenched your arm out of his grasp, but moved off the road just as a carriage careened past.

The General skirted behind you, putting himself between you and the road and forcing you to walk further away from danger in order to keep your distance from him. “I will insist that you don’t end your own life, Miss Dean. I am courting you. Your death on my watch would tarnish my reputation.”

You would have slapped him if not for the warmth in his voice. He was… joking? Had you reached the point in your strange companionship that you could tease?

When you looked up at him, your elbow bumping into his side, his eyes were soft. There was a vulnerability to him, an openness that stole your breath.

You stuttered to a stop. He continued on, ending up in front of you and completely turned around to face you. “Are you feeling well, Miss Dean?”

“I am,” you breathed, unable to pull your gaze from his face.

“Shall we continue?”

You suddenly shouted, the words ripped from your throat. “A stone!”

Ana and Finn stopped and turned, looking at you curiously.

“A stone in my shoe. There is a stone. In my shoe. On my foot.” You rambled, your face burning.

Poe ducked his head to hide his smile. Only loud enough for you to hear, he said, “But of course. I would not expect an intelligent woman such as yourself to wear shoes on your shoulders.”

Poe knelt before you. He held his hands out and you let your foot peak out from under your skirts. Carefully, without touching your skin, he undid the buckle and eased the shoe of your foot, shaking it out before holding it before you once again. He did not comment that there was no stone, simply smiled up at you. Kneeling before you. A surge of power flowed through you at his physical submission.

You snatched the shoe out of his grasp, shoving your foot back in it and setting off without waiting for him to rise. He scoffed behind you, but you paid him no mind. You stomped past Finn and Ana, the buckle on your shoe clacking with each step.

You could feel Ana’s glare scorching across the backs of your shoulders, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not now. He laid you bare before him with a simple smile, and then returned your power to you, over and over again.

It was beginning to make your head spin.

The General returned to your side in silence, though you could still feel the burning of his smile. You did not exchange another word until the four of you had passed into the house.

The sound of the buckle on your shoe snapping against itself echoed in the large foyer as you stopped, turning to Ana and Finn. Mister Kirk took the fabric from Finn and disappeared, presumably to deliver it to your mama.

After glaring at you, Ana guided Finn into the drawing room with a promise of a game. The doors were left open, as was proper, and her ladies maid stood watch over them.

You did not realize how close the General was standing to you until his whisper tickled your ear. “Would you like to stop this charade? Your sister and Finn seemed to be progressing just fine without us.”

You startled back and shook your head, aggressively enough that the ribbon the General had tied for you fell from your hair and onto the floor. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you were more than certain that your sister and Finn would need your help. You had to see this through.

“Then we shall continue.” He said simply. “You do keep things interesting, Miss Dean.” The General picked the ribbon up from where it had dropped and handed it back to you. “I cannot say that I regret accompanying my companion this summer.”

“I have a feeling, General Dameron, that Finn is the type to not take no for an answer. I am not certain you could have avoided following him in his pursuit of my sister.”

He chuckled again. “Perhaps we will end the summer with each a sister for ourselves.” The darkness in his eyes had returned. His tongue wet his bottom lip and you gasped involuntarily.

“Goodnight, Miss Dean.”

The General was the first to walk away, the edge of the brown bag just peaking out of his pocket.

You clutched the ribbon tight in your hand. You considered throwing it to the ground, or running outside and abandoning it to the creatures of the night, but you couldn’t let it go. Instead, you clutched it to your chest, the fabric soft against your palm, and you watched the doorway he’d disappeared through, waiting for him to return.

[nanamismoonchild]

deceiving the moon chapter 2 --> ferryman

pairing: god!namjoon x goddess!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut , greek god based au

warnings: choking, mentions of death, blood mention, hair grabbing, reader gets a lil scary 

Summary:   You’re a beauty. He is handsome. You’re Life. He is Death. You love him. But does he love you? There’s only one way to found out. And it’s by being the Queen.  

prev. / next

It was a lovely day out in the forest by the home you shared with your mother.  Warm and the Sun God, Hoseok, drove his chariot proudly across the blue sky. The flowers had been blooming and the tree nymphs were growing strong green leaves. The river bubbled and babbled as you dipped your feet into the coolness. 

It had been a long harvest for the people who lived on the Earth and you had promised the children that you would play with them while the parents worked to pick their vegetables and fruits. Your mother, the goddess of the harvest, had been quite generous this year and the harvest was bountiful and would feed many for a long time.  It took weeks for the harvest to be picked, stored, and then reseeded again. Needless to say, the children had run you ragged. A dip in the river was what you needed to relax your worn bones. 

Slipping off the dress you wore, you slide further into the deep water and lie on your back.  The river would take you anywhere it pleased and you would let it.  It would be a symbolism of you letting the fatigue wash away.  

Close your eyes. The river whispered.  Relax. 

Smiling, you did as it said, knowing the river wouldn’t cause you harm. 

It was night by the time you reopened your eyes.  Selene was driving her chariot high in the sky just as her sibling was a few hours ago. You swam over to the bank and lifted yourself out of the water. Water dripped off of your body, but it didn’t bother you. The aches from your played-out bones were lifted. You felt rejuvenated. The wind blew across your body, making you shiver, but drying you off. 

You had no idea how far you had drifted with the current; however, the tree nymphs would more than know.  

Touching one leaf from a tree, you asked the natives of the forest, “How do I get home?”

Nothing.  

“How do I get home?” You asked a little louder. 

Still nothing. 

“What is wrong? Have I angered you? Is Pan angry?”

Pan was the infamous Jimin, companion of the nymphs and god of the wild. Whenever he was upset, all of the forest beings he tended to become upset as well. 

However, they would always talk to you. No matter what. 

“Hello?”

The forest stayed quiet-unhelpful in your plight to return home to your mother who would be wondering about your disappearance. 

“Please, help me,” a voice called out. It was hoarse and disembodied. 

“Who’s there?” “Please, help me,” it called out again. 

You stepped around the tree that still gave you no answer, and found a man with a blue aura surrounding him.  

Your eyes widen as you realize why the nymphs aren’t speaking. 

There was a dead man in their view and it was uncomfortable and a sight that is not normal. He should have gone straight to the Underworld instead of remaining on land.  

“Sir, are you lost? Why has Thanatos not come to lead you down?” The man simply gazed at you, his dark eyes seeing right through you almost. 

“I have not a clue how to help you. Thanatos is the only one who knows where the Doors to the Underworld are located…” you trailed off, remembering information your mother had told you years before. “Actually, I do know where to take you. Please, follow me. “

You knew you should have just started the trek home. The pity for the lost soul had overwhelmed all of your common senses. The natural leader and innate care that was inside of you wanted to take the man where he would not suffer and turn into a ghoul.  A suffering soul wanting nothing more than to be alive.  

Also, your mother was the goddess of the cycle of life and death. It would tarnish her reputation if the daughter she bragged about could not uphold her name.  

The man had no footsteps, but you could see the blue aura following you as you trekked across the mossy terrain. The directions your mother had given you had been based on the location of your home--the navigation was tricky and the only hope you had were the stars as the nymphs were still silent with the spirit in their presence. 

“Always follow Orion,” your mother had told you. 

Orion pointed in the direction--north--and you followed not wanting to get more lost than you were. You were still naked with a strange man following you. The thought almost made you pause, but the need to get rid of the poor man and get home to hot tea kept you going on. 

Finally, after walking for miles it seemed, you came across the clearing that your mother told you to steer clear of. It was one of the many ways to get into the land of the dead. 

She always feared that the man who ruled the dead himself would rise up and kidnap you. What a worrisome woman. No man would dare. 

The man behind you stood next to you, awaiting instructions.  

“You are to tap the grass three times. Do you have a drachma?”

He shook and lowered his head in what you deemed as shame. Your pity for him grew. He died a poor man or he was robbed and killed for his money. No wonder he had stayed on Earth.  He could not pay the fee to Jungkook, the ferryman, to cross the river Styx.

That had always angered you as a child. Why should the dead have to pay to cross the river? It never made sense! 

“Fine. I will take you down myself. My earrings are drachmas. One should be enough to pay for you. Let us go. “ You saunter to the middle of the field and tap the ground three times with your foot.The man did the same.  After a minute or two nothing happening, you turned towards the man, hands on your hips. 

“Well, this is a waste of-eep!”

The ground had opened without warning, dropping the both of you into a tunnel before closing. Had you been wearing any sort of clothing, your butt would have been saved from the pain, but alas, you were not. Your butt throbbed from hitting the cold ground. 

Groaning, you picked yourself up and wiped the dust off of you. The man had fallen perfectly onto his feet. 

“Say not a word to any of your ghastly friends.”

He nodded, a tiny smile appeared faintly on his face. 

Making your way through the tunnel, you find yourself hearing the moans of the others who had faced Death. A woman could be seen with tears in her eyes as she looked forlornly at a couple who hugged each other near her. 

“We’re here. Now we just have to find Jungkook and pay him his fee.” 

You moved around a few of the dead folk in line and searched the banks of the Styx. There was no boat and no Jungkook in sight either. He must've already taken a load to the other side. There was no telling how long it would take for him to come back.  

There really needed to be a change in this realm. Paying to go to the other side? Having to wait hours on end to wait on the ferryman? The ferryman should have something faster and bigger than the boats that humans use. Odysseus’s boat had travelled far and wide, facing great dangers before being ripped apart by Poseidon in a great rage.  Why couldn’t the ferryman of the dead have the same or better?

Fuming, you failed to hear the tell-tale ding of the boat that the ferryman rode, signaling his arrival back. The blue man waved an arm in front of you, forcing you out of your annoyance. 

“Thank gods we did not have to wait so long.  I simply want to get you on that boat and then get back home.”

At that, you grabbed the blue man’s hand and stomped over to the arriving boat. He was to be the first man on the boat if you had your way. The drachma earring was already in his hand after you took it off while waiting for the ferryman. 

Jungkook docked the shabby small boat that could only fit possibly 3 people including him. He was a ghastly white and seemed to have the most brittle bones. He moved slowly without care. 

“Could you move a little faster? I have to get home.”

Jungkook peered at you through the hood that he wore, his doe eyes being the only innocent feature that the gods had graced him with. 

“You are not dead?” “No. I am the daughter of Demeter. You know me as Persephone. I would like for this man to cross. He was wandering around the forest and scaring the tree nymphs.”

The ferryman blinked at you before turning to the blue man, who had been making it a point to look everywhere but at Jungkook. 

“Let me see your payment.”

The blue man glanced at you for assurance before presenting the earring drachma. His hands shook a little. 

Jungkook paused and scoffed. A sound that you did not want to hear. 

“This is not sufficient. This is an earring.”

“Yes, but it is a drachma. I pierced the drachmas and placed them into my ears for emergencies. This is an emergency. They are more than sufficient. Please let him on board. I will only beg this once. He is confused and lost. I want to see him cross into the Underworld.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed. His doe eyes had narrowed and become menacing. 

“They are not sufficient.  It is fake. And you are fake as well. Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, would have no business leading the dead into the Underworld. This man will stay on the banks of the Styx and become a wraith since he does not have sufficient payment.”

A demented laugh erupted from you. You try to cover your mouth with your hands, but it was a failed attempt as the crazed giggles came in waves. Thankfully you didn’t snort. How unladylike that would be. 

“You are a fool. Talking to me as if I am not higher than you. If I were not humble, I would look down upon you.” 

You took the drachma from the blue man’s hands and kicked Jungkook so he would kneel in front of you.  Grabbing a tight fistful of his matted wet hair, you yanked his hand up and shoved the damned silver coin into the ferryman’s throat, making sure it cut his gum and bled.  

“You should know better than to call me a fake. I have all the business to bring the dead into the Underworld. Let this man on your boat and take me as well. I would like to speak with the god of the Underworld, Namjoon, himself. There needs to be some changes around here. Starting with you.” 

You let him go. He sputtered and spit out the blood that had been accumulating in his mouth before rushing to grab his rower and ushering you and the blue man onto his boat. 

He dinged his bell and pushed the small boat off of the dock. 

He uttered not a word the entire short journey. 

[ironmandeficiency]

fuck you very much

pairing: javier peña / reader

word count: 988

summary: if you say “fuck you very much” fast enough, it sounds like you’re saying “thank you” instead of “fuck you”

a/n: i reread this fic of mine and had this idea for a sister fic based on smth my parents say so 🤷🏻‍♀️ also steve casually calls you “man” once & javi says “our girl” as a slight joke

you wish these meetings would start to bring good news. conversations with the ambassador are, more often than not, preludes to bad or worse news. criticizing how one operation went and giving unnecessary reminders to the importance of your job as if you’re not on the field before the sun rises and long after it sets. it’s chock-full of ridiculous bureaucracy and ego balancing under the guise of being polite guests in colombia and it drives you absolutely mad.

because you weren’t a man in a man-dominated field, you had a tighter noose on your neck. the slightest sway of the breeze, one wrong move could put your career (and sometimes, life) in jeopardy. you couldn’t lash out in anger without being seen as “psycho” or “too emotional.” if you took a page out of javier’s book and tried sleeping around to let out steam, any respect you’ve earned on the field through your hard work would be tarnished by your sex life.

it was hard for your first several months in colombia to not rip new ones in the many many people who disrespected you. one phone call home reminded you of a trick that a family friend used when piled down with the paperwork of people who couldn’t be bothered to do what was required of them. every time people would drop a thick stack on her desk, she would smile and give them a “fuck you very much” spoken fast enough to be misheard for a thank you.

at first you were hesitant to use this tactic at work. if you didn’t speak it fast enough or if the wrong person could truly understand you, it could result in disciplinary action that you didn’t have the patience to deal with. that would only give even more ample reason for you to need said trick.

then stechner visited.

everything about this man radiated shifty and skeevy. no matter how you tried, there was almost nothing (and you don’t say this lightly) redeemable or tolerable about that man. even his bald spot had the power to annoy you, which was a feat in itself. the only thing you could do was tough it out when you were around him and hope that if you didn’t have the patience, you’d have an untraceable gun.

today was one of those days where nearly everyone (but mostly stechner) rubbed you the wrong way and you were this close to tearing your hair out and screaming bloody murder in frustration and indignation. it all came to a head when you were called into ambassador noonan’s office and stechner was sitting there like the cat who ate the canary. you were too busy wondering what canary could he have eaten to warrant such a smug look to be fully paying attention to the ambassador’s scolding.

“are you even listening, agent?! the government pays you to listen to your superiors, yet here you stand…”

javier and steve open the door mid-scolding and your blood cools just enough to keep control over the hand itching to deck the cia agent not even trying to contain his amusement. “i hate to say this… peña, murphy,” messina sighs in resignation, wagging a finger between the men. “you two, reel this one in or all three of you face suspension. i’m not going to tolerate any more rogue agents running around colombia.”

everyone in the room knew that messina was desperate if she was asking steve and javi to reel you in. this desperation gave way to an awkward tension in the air felt by all but stechner, the douche. in spite of the awkwardness cloud, you were fuming at the audacity of messina for dragging you in front of stechner and your partners. your partners were truly expecting there to be smoke coming from your ears the longer they watched the scene unfold, bodies tense and ready to pounce in case they had to keep you from letting loose on the smug cia agent.

you took a deep breath. this was not the hill to die on, and you weren’t going to give stechner the pleasure of watching you go down in flames. instead, you spoke with a smile and saved your anger for a time when you wouldn’t lose your job for showing it. “well fuck you very much for your time. if there’s anything else i can do for you, please let me know.” and with that, you walked out without looking back.

it didn’t take a genius to know that your partners were following you out of the ambassador’s office. their footsteps echoed on the cheap tiled floor with the tact of a clumsy elephant. you didn’t grace them with your attention until you were slumped in your desk with a huff. “what is it, guys?”

“you literally just said ‘fuck you’ to the ambassador and didn’t get fired on the spot, man.” he scoffed as he sat and lit a cigarette. “you’re insane!”

okay, so someone caught on to it. as long as it wasn’t the ambassador, you still had a job. plus, it pleasantly surprised your boys which was a feat in itself, those two (sometimes) had hawk eyes and it’s typically hard to sneak something by them. on other occasions, you might as well ask a brick wall for help with how blind they could be.

javi laughed at the smug smile you wore at your accomplishment, knowing you were gonna ride this high for a while. “we shouldn’t expect anything less from our girl, stevie,” he replied with a wink. “now let’s get to work, we gotta make sure we keep her in line.”

all three of you laughed at that remark knowing full well that the three of you were waking chaos in blue jeans and badges. there was going to be no reining in getting done anytime soon, but that’s what made colombia a bit more tolerable.

javi taglist: @catsnkooks @senator-nahberries @majorshiraharu @stardustsunrisekisses @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @darthadeline @max--phillips @themarcusmoreno @jedi-mando @obirain @battletales @greeneyedblondie44 @pedropasscals @princess76179 @kaermorons @hornystarwarsbisexual @lv7867 @whovianwar @purelypascal @andysficrecs @book-of-anarchy

[miss-dr-reid]

This is calm, and it's, Doctor #8

Warning: some domestic abuse, but nothing gory

On the drive home, my head was filled with memories of yesterday. How cute Spencer was when all he wanted to do was win a game of chess. Pretty much passing out on his lounge while waiting for dinner. Dancing the night away and waking up surrounded by fuzzy, cuddly, Spencer blanket. My heart beat hard, my head filled with joy.

Does Spencer feel this way about me? There's no reason he would. We barely know each other.

I arrived home and jumped straight in the shower. Washing my hair felt so good, I stood there, massaging for a while, relieving my head of the stress from the last week. I scrubbed my body and shaved everything baby smooth.

Stepping out of the shower, I reached for a towel from the rack, grabbed it and patted myself dry. I wrapped it around myself and looked in the mirror, memories of the first night I spent with a guy after leaving my ex.

~ I had arrived home and was finishing up having a shower, I reached for the towel rack, only looking when I couldn't feel one. When I looked, I was surprised to see my ex sitting on the toilet. A look of anger on his face...

"Have a good night?" he retorted.

"Doesn't matter to you, but it was great." I retaliated, hating that he made it in to my house without my knowing.

"As if. No one can make you feel the way that I can. I make you feel so good, baby, don't I?" He said, getting up off the toilet seat, coming toward me, one hand hiding behind his back.

"Fuck off. I don't want you anymore. I already told you." I said, backing up, ripping a folded towel off the counter behind me, "You need to leave, right now." Even though my voice was stern, he was still coming for me.

I didn't want to fight, so I ran, he tried to grab me on my way past, but I was still wet, so I slipped out of his grip. I ran straight for the front door, flinging it open and banging on my neighbours door. She didn't hesitate to open it, seeing me on the other side. I shoved my way in and she locked the door.

We moved away from the door, to her room and she grabbed me a spare shirt, I dropped the towel to put it on and was shocked to see red all over the towel where my hand had been pressed to my chest. I looked up at her who noticed it as well. She was on the phone to emergency serviced and asked for an ambulance to be added to the people on dispatch.

I didn't even realise he had got me as I pushed past him. the adrenaline was pumping through my body. I picked the towel back up and pressed it to myself once again. Waiting. He was banging on the door, demanding to be let in. He left soon after, knowing how this would end if he didn't.

The police arrived after what seemed like forever, followed by the EMT's. They were let into the apartment and the EMT suggested I go to hospital. I opted to get myself there after they deemed that the cut was not bad enough to need emergency surgery. I gave my statement to the police and thanked my neighbour for letting me in to her place so quick. ~

That was the last time I saw him. I moved out 2 weeks after that, changed jobs and finished studying. I looked at myself in the mirror, lowering the towel, lowering the towel, revealing the scar I still have on the outside of my breast, right where it meets my chest.

I covered up and went to my room, deciding what to wear.

'Something nice, but casual enough to walk places.' I tho9ught to myself. I landed on a semi-fitted sun dress and my favourite lime-green bikini. I wore some flats that I was easily able to slip on and off. I threw my hair into a messy bun and decided it was good enough.

I grabbed a few things, like sunscreen and a towel and popped them into a beach bag that I had stored away. I was ready to go. I checked my watch 11:15. Taking one last look around the place, I took my stuff and left. On the drive, I couldn't help but drive past Spencer's place, just for fun, and only 2 minutes later, I arrived at the cafe where I had met the boys for the first time.

The clock on my dash read 11:37, plenty of time to sit and wait before the boys would be here. I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the head rest. My mind wondering back to last night, wish that Spencer would think of me the same way I think of him. Maybe I'm just being desperate, but thinking about Spencer causes me to smile, every single time. I can't help it.

The loud knock on my window cause me to jolt from my thoughts. I looked out the window, seeing Morgan's face on the other side as his hand reached for the handle. Once the door was open, I climbed out and locked the car. Derek hugged me, which I returned, squeezing him slightly, he smelt good. We let go of the embrace, stepping back from each other, he looked me up and down.

"Looking good, mama." He says with a wink.

"Ha, you too." I winked back, "I thought you only had eyes for Garcia."

We stood there laughing for a bit, until I saw Spencer come around the corner, his face buried in a book, he was only ever looking away from it to see if there was an obstacle in his path.

"Ah, pretty boy." Morgan said, turning to look at him. Spencer's face still glued to the book, he didn't look up until he was inside. Derek decided it would be a good idea to sneak up on him and we entered the cafe behind him and stood there watching. He looked around to try and find Derek and I, to no avail. He pulled out his phone and started dialing. Derek and I giggled to ourselves, but Spencer wasn't paying attention as he was listening to the ringing on his phone. As Derek's phone rang, he didn't even reach for it, instead watching Spencer as he spun around to see us right behind him, all of us giggling.

We greeted each other, and Spencer walked toward me, his arms going outward as if coming in for a hug. I gave him a puzzled look, and accepted his embrace. The familiar smell of his cologne filling my nose, I took in a deep breath before releasing him.

Morgan bro-hugged him and we all laughed at how silly everything had just been.

"Let's grab lunch!" I exclaimed, I was starving.

We sat around a table, our chairs evenly spaced apart. The guys picked up menus, but I already knew what I wanted. After deciding, Derek and Spencer got up to order, insisting on covering my lunch. They came back and Derek decided small talk would be a good idea.

"So, Y/N," he smirked, "Is there anyone special in your life?" his eyebrows wiggling.

"Yes and No." I started, staring him in the eyes, not sure how to proceed, "I met this guy recently, I think he's great. I'm not sure if he's interested in me though. I'm also not sure if I should ask him how he feels. I mean, we only met not that long ago, so it might be too soon, you see..." I trailed off, rubbing my thumbs together, avoiding even a glance in Spencer's direction, so as though to not give anything away.

"Non sense!" Derek remarked, "If you feel a certain way about someone, you gotta tell them, babygirl. So, who is he?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, you don't know him." I replied, trying to brush him off, but he wouldn't have it, and insisted I give him the identity of the 'mysterious guy' that I was keeping secret from him.

I remembered back to the car ride with Emily, all the little things she told me about Spencer.

"Walter..." I trailed off, smirking at myself a little, "He's cute and tall and quite smart." I could go on about all the little things I found adorable and attractive about Spence, but if I made the list too specific, Derek would piece it together too easily.

Spencer's ears perked at the name, and he looked at me with a puzzled looked, and I couldn't help the small smile that came across my face. Derek was still trying to figure out who 'Walter' was.

Derek noticed us looking at each other, looked between us, his eyes narrowing as he examined my face. His concentration broken by our food being put on the table in front of us. We all thanked the waitress and started eating. I had a chicken salad wrap, Spencer had a cheese ham and tomato toastie, while Derek had a burger. We all ate, barely saying a word, enjoying our meals.

I was the first to finish, Spencer was done soon after. We started talking about work things. We started picking on Derek who was having trouble defending himself as he tried to finish his food quickly.

"At least I don't hide behind books to avoid my feelings." Derek spat back at Spence, who just shrugged his shoulders. "And how about you, miss Perfect? Sucking up to Hotch and showing off in front of everyone on your first day, making us all look bad! You can't fool anyone with your goody-two-shoes act!" he finished by taking a sip of his drink.

I clasped a hand to my chest in fake offence, "Oh no! ME make the fantastic Mr. Morgan look bad?! how could I? His beautiful physique and wonderful words which help him pull all the ladies, tarnished! what ever will he do?" I stopped when I noticed Spencer silently giggling to himself at the sight before him. I couldn't let him get out of this. "Oh no no, Doctor. You're not getting out of this that easily. Your big brilliant brain is beautiful, but you need to work on understanding innuendos. The amount of things that have been said to and around you, that go straight over your head, we need to get you cultured."

He was confused. He didn't understand why he needed to understand jokes, why it mattered so much, and really, it doesn't. He's perfect in my eyes.

We sat there talking for a bit more until Derek decided it was time to go. We got up, left a tip on the table and headed out. We walked to y car and leaned on it, Spencer choosing to stand.

"What now?" I asked.

"The beach." Derek answered, "Don't worry pretty by, we'll find somewhere with shade so you can sit and read." Spencer's expression calmed at the sound of not being forced to swim.

We decided to go in one car. My car was elected because it was closest. I climbed in to the drivers seat, Derek in the passenger and Spence, in the back.

On the car ride, I changed through radio stations, trying to find music. Derek was confused by it, but Spencer knew what was happening. With the back coming along the corner, we all kept our eyes peeled for a parking spot.

I saw a spot, near a decent sized tree, which had a bench in the shade underneath it. Perfect. I pulled into the spot and we all climbed out. Derek and I, grabbing our beach bags and Spencer with his satchel that he has with him literally everywhere he goes.

The three of us walked single-file, me leading, to the bench. Spencer quite happily sat and pulled out his book while Derek and I set down our bags. I took a moment to take in the scene. Closing my eyes, I listened to the water, the crashing of the waves, so welcoming and calming. The smell of the ocean was so refreshing, the scent filling my lungs with every breath.

Opening my eyes, I saw Morgan had started removing layers until he was just in his swim trunks. I followed his lead, undressing down to my bikini. My skin looked so pasty compared to his caramel skin.

I grabbed the sunscreen from my bag, and started on my arms, chest, legs but of course, I can't each my call back properly. I looked over at Derek, with almost output dog eyes and he held out his hand. I have him the tube and turned around.

"You know, Walter should be going this guy you.." his suggestive tone caused heat to rush to my face as my eyes lifted to look at Spencer, who's eyes were glued to the pages of his book.

As he finished, he threw the tube down to my bag and ye inlled,

"Last one in is a rotten egg!"

Without hesitation we both ran for the water, laughing the whole way. With sand flicking up behind us as we ran, we reached the water in no time. We leapt over the small wave as we reached the water, the splash from the land was cool and refreshing. After a few more leaps, I dove in under a wave, losing sight of Derek.

The Cool water consumed my body. The waves in my hair, the current caressing and flowing over me. As I resurfaced, I couldn't see Derek. I assumed he went under too, and started looking in to the water, trading to see his figure.

With my head still looking to the water, a splash came from my side, Derek sat there unleashing a wave of splashes as I tried to deflect and return. Laughter erupting from both of us as we unleashed a wrath of splashes on each other. He finally stopped with a breathy laugh and so did I. He started to swim toward me and I couldn't help but splash him one last time, playback for what he'd started.

"Alright," he laughed, "You win." He made it over next to me. As our breathing solved, we both looked at Spencer, who's attention seemed to never leave his book.

"How can we get pretty boy in the water?" He suggested. We decided a plan and set it in to play, and I was the bait. I watched Derek swim far enough away and began acting. It needed to be convincing or Spence Rodney buy it.

I started waving my hand in the air and started yelling out for help. Using his name a couple of times in the process helped a lot. His head finally snapped up to see me, my head bobbing under the water a few times, and to see Derek no where near close enough to help. He jumped up, ripped off his shirt and used his feet to remove his shoes.

He ran for the water and jumped in. He made it close enough to me that he was commited to swimming and I started laughing. Derek, who had been watching, had made his way over too and joined in with my giggles. It wasn't long until Spencer had his arms wrapped around me, trying to get my head above water. I looked into his eyes and batted my eyelashes, a small smile coming over my lips.

"Sorry." I said quietly as Derek patted him on the back, telling him of our plan.

"if you guys wanted me to swim so bad, you should have just asked." Spencer said, releasing me and staring me down with betrayal in his eyes.

"C'mon Reid," Morgan started, "you wouldn't have come in if I had simply asked. And besides, didn't it feel good holding a beautiful woman in your arms?" His eyebrows wiggling as Spencer studied me, both of our faces going red at the suggestion.

Derek swam off with a 'catch me if you can' look on his face.

"Sorry for doing that to you." I apologised to Spencer.

"No, he's right. I wouldn't have come in if he had asked. I'm not much for swimming, not in open experts anyway. I much prefer somewhere I can see the bottom. Even though the percentage of shark attacks is pretty low, the chances of getting stuck in a rip are quite high. I don't think I'd put up much of a fight against one..." His voice trailed off as he watched Derek get further away.

"I'll save you if that ever happens." I said, winking at him. He laughed and started after Derek, I followed. The swim turned into more of a race rather than us trying to catch Derek.

We stayed at the beach for a few hours. I could feel my shoulders and nose burning. We had been having so much fun, I had forgotten to reapply sunscreen.

"Maybe we should get going," I suggested, "at least in to the shade?" I noticed Spencer's face was also red and I felt bad because he didn't even apply sunscreen. The three of us retreated to the shade.

I picked up my towel and patted myself dry. I slipped on my dress and we packed up our stuff ready to go. We stopped at the public showers to wash our feet before getting to the car.

"Who's still keen for icecream?" Derek asked as we reached the car. My sunburn wasn't 'burning' as of yet and I was still keen on icecream.

"I'm keen, but we shouldn't be too long. The sooner I get some cream into this bad boy, the better." I replied, pointing to my nose and shoulders, while putting my seat belt on. Derek looked over his shoulder to Spencer who simply said,

"Sure." With a shrug of his shoulders, pulling his book out of his bag.

The icecream shop wasn't too far away, so o didn't burger with the radio. Instead, Derek and I joked around with each other during the drive.

This one is longer to make up for the day's I've been missing. It's been sitting in my drafts for days because I keep getting distracted. I'm so sorry, please enjoy. :)

[serendipityunho]

Lick

× genre: smut, everyone is filthy rich × pairing: San x Reader (fem.) × word count: 4.7k × warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, smoking, fingering, oral, clit play, dirty talk, explicit sex, marijuana use

× synopsis:The only excitement at this boring extravagant party was the taste of a random kid’s lips on yours mixed with the devil’s lettuce, who happens to be the son of the CEO your parents partnered with. It couldn’t get any better than that. 

☁️: i don’t smoke weed, but that shit is lowkey hot, especially when you end up shot-gunning with a slicked-back-blonde-hair san.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You never knew what the point of holding such extravagant parties was. Did they really donate proceeds to charity, or was that another cold lie your parents fed the guests apart from the disgusting over-priced cheese and caviar? 

It was nights like these where you wanted nothing but to go home and empty the fridge or possibly passed out face flat onto a lawn at some random frat party you found yourself in. Anything would be better than standing in feet-aching heels at a party with no one to talk to. 

If you earnt a dollar for every time you welcomed guests and greeted them with your million dollar realistic fake smile, you’d become a billionaire, rich enough to buy your parent’s company and probably two others. Your cheeks were aching just as much as your feet with the number of times you had to smile through the pain of talking to business people about their stupid taxes and so on. 

“You might want to slow down on the tarts, dear, there are guests you know” It wasn’t like anybody bothered to get their hands crumby with the tarts, so why not do it for them?

“That’s your fault for inviting so many people, mother” You didn’t even need to take a glance at her to know she rolled her eyes into another dimension at your snarky comment. 

“Behave” To be completely honest, it was quite satisfying seeing your mother fed up with you. It could possibly teach her a thing or two. It was honestly the least you could do after living a life many wished for. If only they knew the consequences of actually living it. 

It felt like the walls were closing in with every passing second you stayed inside, surrounded by countless bodies that wanted nothing to talk about money and other materialistic desires. You felt disgusted with every fibre of your body as you take a swift glance at your parents, putting on a show with the same plastic smiles as their snake tongues lure the interests of tycoons.

The longer you stayed here, the more you wanted to throw up from basking in overly expensive perfume and cologne. Your cheeks were on the verge of seizing from the smiles, it was exhausting.

It felt even more suffocating, literally, as you squeeze passed guests and avoiding the urge to knock over the sparkling champagne glass in their hands. The balcony seemed to be the only place of refuge. Sliding the glass door, you stepped outside into the midst of breezy night with slight shivers travelling up your body.

You felt like you can breathe again after escaping out into the open. The chatters and laughs muffled as you slide the glass door closed again, turning your back on the faces to bask in the chilly air with nothing but a loose satin dress short enough to hide the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh. 

The balcony was long, it wrapped around one entire side and halfway around the other. It got colder as you dipped around the corner, perfect and away from prying eyes. You hiked up your dress slightly, taking the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh before holding it between your lips. 

If your parents ever found out you were one of those tobacco users, they’d blame you for tarnishing their reputation with ridiculously absurd malicious headlines, ‘Heiress of Multimillion-Dollar Company or a Tobacco Addict?’ ‘The Irony of a Smoker Running A Biomedical Company’.  It was as if it were the apocalypse if they’d ever catch you, not that you would let them.

“Those things kill you fast, you know?” You were in the middle of a drag of your cigarette before a voice jolted you up from your spot, making you spin around to a man leaning against the wall.

“I’m counting on it” You were only joking of course.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here smoking?” The man kicked himself off the wall before stepping into the more lit area of the balcony.

“You can’t call me pretty if you don’t know me” Your lips kissed the cigarette again, blowing smoke between your lips as you stared out into the city from the rails of your penthouse balcony. 

“What if I do know you?” His features were sharp under the dim lighting, cheekbones stood out very prominently as his feline eyes left your jaw dropped. He was truly astonishing.

“I don’t seem to know who you are” You turned to face him, getting a better observation at his god-like features as you held the cigarette over the railing.

“I’m Choi San” Now that was a name that had rung a few rusty bells in your head.

“Don’t tell me you’re the Choi San of-” 

“Choi Biomedical Technologies? Yes, I’m that Choi San”

Almost half of all hospitals had the equipment and resources produced by San’s father in use day and night. Fortunately enough, the company had decided to pair with your parent’s medical research and company. 

“Funny enough, I don’t see your face around often” 

“It’s pointless to just show my face at a party where I don’t have fun” San shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, shuffling a bit in his spot before finally turning his face towards you. 

Now you could clearly see everything, and my, he was indeed a masterpiece. You were amazed at how he managed to slick back his hair without the look of heavy hair products glistening under the light. 

“So what made you show up to this one?” If there was any way possible that excused you from attending these parties, you’d take it in a heartbeat. 

“To see what the hype was all about, my father’s tried setting me up with many girls when I don’t go. So I figured if I showed up just once, he’d finally leave me alone” 

“And did he?”

“Why do you think I’m out here?” San smirked as he ran his hand through his hair, staring down at your cigarette.

“Sounds pitiful” You bring your hand up, holding the slow killer against your lips before puffing one out into the air.

“May I?” San nodded towards the cigarette, eyes drooping at the sight of it between your lips.

“You don’t spike me as a smoker” You handed the stick over to him, watching him take a drag before smoke escapes pass his lips. 

“You’d be surprised about other things” San grimaced at the cigarette before handing it back to you and looking out into the city.

“Like what?” Now you were genuinely curious.

A smirk crawled up San’s face as he faced you again, eyeing you with curious eyes before licking his teeth. You could tell he was trying to avoid your question, but it just worked your curiosity even more.

“What are you doing out here?” You scoffed at San’s diversion, turning around to rest your forearms against the rails. 

“For a smoke obviously, and my feet hurt from walking around” You shook off the ash from the cigarette, hesitantly bringing the nearly finished stick up to your lips once again.

“You always smoke at parties?”  

“Only when I have to”

“What made you tonight?” 

“Look at that and tell me you don’t want to get out of there” San didn’t have to look to know what you were referring to. In fact, he felt exactly the same.

“You know, I have something better than this,” San plucked the cigarette out from your lips and threw it off the balcony before reaching in his jacket, pulling out a small clear bag of what seemed to look like chopped up parsley “, that would relax you”.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes widen as you finally realise what was in front of you. This guy really just stored weed in his jacket like it was nothing. 

“What? Have you never tried?” You shook your head, eyeing the green flakes sitting in its little ziplock bag. 

“I never knew where to get it-”

“Wow, look at that!” You could’ve sworn your head was about to rip right off your neck from how fast you swerved behind.

Silhouettes of guests fill the floor as a few flooded out into the balcony, making your heart race as you assured San to put the bag back in his jacket. Thankfully, the two of you were around the corner which let you dodge a bullet from noisy guests.

“Shit” As much as you wanted to smoke whatever San offered, it was too risky out here even behind the unlit corner of your balcony.

“I know a place where we can-”

“No, I can’t leave the building, they won’t let me” Your parents have had enough of you to strict you from leaving the party, mainly to keep a close eye on you and prevent anything that would blacken their name.

“Does your bathroom have a big window?” San fixed his jacket before stepping aside, walking around the corner with you following behind.

“Yeah, but it’ll look suspicious if we go upstairs together” You immediately spot your parents the moment you stepped back inside, no surprise they were buttering up more guests.

“The more you think about it, the more it’ll look suspicious” Technically, it wasn’t that hard staying out of your parent’s vision as they chattered away with more people and sipping on their champagne. 

San stayed behind you as you quickly trod up the stairs to the second level, quietness flushing over you as the party stayed below. San appeared not long after, inspecting the new surrounding as you opened the door to your bathroom. 

The marble glistened the moment you flicked on the lights, most of which doesn’t seem to phase San one bit. The door locked behind you as you unlatched the window, letting the cold air in as well as making it an escape for your smoke.

“What kind of shower is that?” San snickered. You honestly have no clue either.

“I don’t know, we don’t use this bathroom” You always questioned why your mother had such a desire for homes with more than enough rooms, it was pointless really.

“So your family’s like that too huh?” San pulled out the little bag again, placing it on to the marble counter before reaching for something else. 

“Like what?” You stared at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair as you patted smudged mascara underneath your eyes.

“Money this, money that?” Your eyes turned down to San, packing the green flakes into a thin piece of paper. 

“It’s sickening” You were just glad you managed to escape the trap of falling into the mindset of materialistic wealth and whatnot.

“It’s surprising to finally find someone like me” 

“Like you? So you’re telling me all those campaigns and charities are bullshit too?” San’s father always loved taking every chance he got to host events beneficial to his company.

“Blatant lie, every single one of them” San sounded embarrassed, ashamed of his family’s immoral choices.

You almost feel sorry for him, but yet again, your family was exactly like that too. You couldn’t judge him one bit, not that you would anyways. Nowadays, you were always met with rich privileged dickheads boasting about which Rolex they bought with their ‘daddy’s’ black card.

“Lick” San brought the rolled stick up to your lips as you sat on the counter, waiting for you to the seal it up for him.

His eyes locked onto yours as he stood in front of you. Without taking yours off his, you stick your tongue out, swiping across the thin paper before letting San close off the stick.

“Where’d you buy it?” If you didn’t have eyes watching you 24/7, you’d be at some random back alley buying as much devil lettuce as you want and possibly smoking it at some random back alley. 

San, without a doubt, would have security with him all the time. The fact that he managed to obtain weed was questioning.

“A friend of mine sells it from his gym” San tapped your lip with the stick before flicking the lid off of his Zippo lighter, letting the flame spark as it flickered close to the end of the stick.

“Smart” The paper burnt black as it shrivelled from the flame. San set the lighter down onto the counter, packing away the contents of your little construction before taking off his suit jacket. You could’ve sworn his shirt was about to unbutton, not that you were complaining.

“If you ever need, look for Jongho down at the gym besides the 7/11 parking lot, call for Wooyoung if he isn’t there” 

“There’s a lot of 7/11′s” You took a hit of the stick, head instantly feeling lighter as your eyes drooped a bit.

“There’s only one 7/11 with a parking lot downtown with a gym next to it” 

Your feet dangled off the ground, heels clanking against the counter as you let your sore feet take a break from walking on tiptoes all night. San hung his jacket on the hook by the door, rolling up his sleeves up to his forearms as he nodded towards the stick. Boy, those arms were nice.

The hit did a lot more than expected, it was worth the wait, and the risk. You take the stick from your lips, pressing it against San’s as you take the strap on your thigh off with the cigarette case on it.

“You should quit while you can” San muffled, blowing the smoke towards the window as he leaned against the counter with his hands either side of you, still keeping a distance between his body and yours. You honestly wish he was closer though.

“I already know it’s going to be hard” You almost instantly regretted buying your first pack of cigarettes, if you knew what withdrawals were at the time, you would’ve never had pressed that toxic stick against your lips.

“It’s better than ending up black lungs” San raised his brows, letting you take the stick from his lips for another hit.

“I’m gonna need more of these if I start quitting” 

“You can keep the ones I brought tonight” You gulped at the closing distance between you and San, the dangling chain around his neck hitting against his chest every time he moved wasn’t making it any easier to stay reserved.

“I’ll pay you back”

“Don’t bother. Consider it a gift” 

“A gift for what?”

“Being decent I guess” You were so tempted to blow this smoke into his face.

“You’re decent too I guess” More than decent actually, but you were too scared to say that. After all, you only met him ten minutes ago. 

Your head felt lighter than the clouds, it was everything better than your average smoke. Now you were definitely going to attempt quitting.

“How is it?” San smiled softly, droopy-eyed as he slumped forward towards you with arms caging you in.

“This shit is amazing” You almost choke while pulling the stick from your lips, making San chuckle in such a deep but mesmerising voice, faintly showing off his dimple you didn’t know he had.

“This is probably the most fun I’ve had at these parties” San chuckled, tilting his head to the side as you press the stick back onto his soft lips once again.

“I have you to thank for that” Your heart was on the verge of jumping out of your chest as you stared at San’s devilish smirk. There was that hint of cockiness in him that had attracted you to grown to like him.

“I guess you could call it fate” San flickered back and forth between your eyes, blowing smoke out from the side of his mouth before giving the stick back to you.

“You know what would be more fun?” You couldn’t really stop yourself from saying anything further. But, you really wanted to just pop that button on his shirt that’s been on the brink of slipping out of its hold.

“Don’t say you have more drugs up your dress”

“Kiss me” You said nice and slowly enough for San to comprehend, you couldn’t help but bite down on your lip at your sudden boost of confidence, giggling at San’s bewildered face.

“You know, that would be fun” San smirked, grabbing a quick hit before locking his lips onto yours, smoke plummeting into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair with his body pushing between your legs.

“Oh yeah, this is so much better” Your arms slung around his neck as you inched yourself closer to the edge of the counter, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his pants as your legs cage him against you with his arms doing the same to you.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you outside” San moaned against your lips as he subconsciously pushed his hips forward, grinding against your sopping wet cunt.

“Then why didn’t you?” Your forehead rests against San’s with a hand tangled his hair as the other slides down his chest, hooking your finger onto his chain.

“I thought you were one of those bimbos who say ‘daddy’ too much” It was quite insulting to know you’d given off those vibes, but who could blame you for wanting to look your best?

“I would’ve figured those were your type of girls” Your lips brush over San’s once again before softly biting it.

“Guess we’re both wrong” San’s hands cupped the bottom of your thighs, smoothing over your skin as he plants a wet kiss on your lips before trailing them down your jaw, making you throw your head back as his lips graze over your sensitive skin, plastering rough kisses all over as you squirmed in pleasure against his hold.

You pushed your hips further, almost falling off the counter if it wasn’t for San’s body pushing against you and his hard crotch grinding against your soaked pussy. San’s hand slid up and down your leg before hiking under your dress, scrunching the satin material up to your waist as you squeezed his forearm.

You could feel your arousal soaking every inch of your panties as San’s hand runs across the skin of your waist, thumb rubbing the bottom of your bralette as you pushed his head closer to yours for another sopping kiss. A low groan from the back of his throat only made your head lighter in lust as you slowly pop the buttons off his shirt.

Looking back, you never thought you’d end up in the bathroom making out high with a semi-stranger. But, it was better than floating in a pool of rich narcissistic fucks. 

San’s chest frees as you rip open his shirt, letting him drop it to the ground as your fingers trace over the lining of his defined abs. Your nipples harden as San’s fingers slip under your bralette, cupping your breast in one hand as your nipple rolls between his fingers.

A wet stain was probably evident against San’s crotch area from your subconscious grinding. It was nothing a blow dryer couldn’t fix.

You could feel his cock throbbing under his pants against your pussy. A hand glides down from his abs and down to the belt of his pants, fumbling with it before scrunching his pants down to his thighs along with his boxers, freeing his pulsating cock against your thigh. 

San’s tongue swiped across your bottom lip as he drove his hand down your thigh, inching his thumb towards your clothed clit and rubbing it slowly as your wetness soaked through your panties. Your fingers remain tangled in his hair as the other hand grasped his cock firmly, thumb swiping over his slit before pumping slowly.

“Fuck” San groaned against your lips, cock twitching in your hold as you smear his precum over his reddened tip. 

You clenched around nothing as San dragged your panties down to the ground, letting your bare ass sit on the cold marble counter as his thumb circled at your clit. Your legs ache from staying in the air with nowhere to rest upon other than San’s waist. 

“Oh my god” A breathy moan escapes from your lips as San presses his fingers against your folds, coating them in your juices as he slides them up and down before pushing them into your hole.

“I want you so bad- fuck” San pumped two fingers in and out of you with your juices glistening on his fingers. 

“Nothing’s stopping you” You cupped his face, shooting an assuring look before planting a sloppy wet kiss on his lips before he kissed down your neck again, moving much faster down to your collarbone and just the top of your breasts before lowering his body.

San’s fingers were still buried deep in you, pumping steadily as his face reached down to your thighs, smothering the inside with his soft kisses before moving over to your clit. It throbbed intensely as San let his tongue press flat against it before circling it around.

You gripped San’s hair tightly, legs quivering on San’s shoulders as he lapped at your pussy, dragging his fingers in and out of your tight hole. Thankfully, the chatter down below was loud enough for your sinful doings to be covered up. 

“Right there- oh fuck” San’s tongue flicked rapidly against your clit before sliding it up and down your slit with his thumb now circling around your clit and hands flat against your stomach, holding your dress up.

“Mhm” It was a soft moan against your core that got you going crazy. You needed more than just his tongue, you needed him.

You cupped the side of San’s head with both hands before pulling him back up to your lips, letting the tip of his cock twitch at your entrance, slipping with your juices and his precum. San hooked an arm around your back, hugging your close as he kissed you hungrily, tongue lapping everywhere with yours.

“Look in that drawer” San pulled back, tilting his head to see which one you were talking about before gripping the knob and pulling it out.

“I thought you said no one uses this bathroom” A pack of condoms appeared from below as San rips the box open, pulling one out and ripping it with his teeth before spitting the foil to the side. 

“That’s exactly why I stored them there” You grabbed latex, rolling it down his cock as he threw his head back with a groan.

“Mhmmfuck” Your mouth hanged wide at the stretch of San’s dick sliding into you, taking a few breaths before letting him move. 

“Fucking christ, so tight” San groaned against your neck before pecking it, slowly thrusting his hips into you as your legs lazily wrap around his waist.

You weren’t sure if you were able to keep your moans to a minimum when San was breathing down your neck like this and hips rolling into you smoothly. God hope the commotion below was loud enough to save you.

San rolled his hips, burying his cock deep in you as he moved slowly. Your head pounded like crazy his hands roamed every inch of your body, squeezing everywhere he could, literally, get his hands on.

The pleasure immediately flooded your head as San quickened his pace, pumping waves of pleasure throughout your body with each thrust. Your forehead rests against his as your lips hover over San’s, brushing ever so lightly as they part.

“Ohmygod yesyes” The sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls as San grunted loudly, tensing his abs with each hard thrust.

Your moans were almost high-pitched as San knocked the air out of your lungs, gripping on to your thighs for dear life as your hands travelled up and down from his chest to his toned abs.

“You like that? Hm?” A smirk crawled its way onto his face as he gazed at you with hooded eyes, still fucking the daylights out of you as your breasts bounced in their place.

“Yes, oh my god- fuck yesnnghaa” You absolutely love the way San’s hips rolled against yours, it was like riding a rollercoaster to heaven and you weren’t even riding anything.

“You like the way I fuck this perfect little cunt of yours?” San grunted through a clenched jaw, slamming his hips against yours, making you gasp wildly for air.

“Fuckfuckyes- yes!” Your hand slapped behind San’s neck as he rutted into you like no tomorrow, sending your head to a cloud of nothingness except lust and pleasure. 

“Mhmffuck you’re so perfect” San’s lips attacked yours once again, you could care less about the slobbering mess, it was actually kind of hot. 

San held hugged you close as your legs gave him no chance of withdrawal as his dick continuously hits the spot of limitless pleasure, sending your breath straight out the window. A whine falls from your parted lips as your face scrunches in pleasure with brows furrowed deeply as your foreheads touch.

“S-So close- mmphh” Your legs quivered with every passing second, skin becoming sensitive with every touch as San cherished your body against his.

San quicked his thrusts, literally knocking you back further as he plunges his hips harder against yours. A bundle of pleasure in the pit of your stomach starts to go wild, seizing with every thrust made to reach the spot inside you that you could never reach. 

Your walls clench tightly around his cock like you were holding on for dear life, slamming your lips against San’s to muffle your sickly moans as he rammed into you. It was like floating in a utopia filled with nothing but euphoric bliss as your vision went blurry with San’s grunting against your ear.

“Oh fuck! Yes ohmygodddnngghh yesyes-” You gasped sharply, legs starting to quiver as your abdomen tensed from the sudden burst of pleasure ricocheting all around your body to flooding your brain. You could’ve sworn you went cross-eyed for a bit. 

“A little bit moremmph fuckk” It was only a matter of seconds before San rutted hard into you one last time before spewing his release into the latex, moaning wildly against your lips as he hugged you closer than before.

Your body subconsciously spazzed subtly as San slowly slid himself out from your hole, letting his cock twitch against your thigh as his forehead rests against yours. It was a comfortable silence that washed over the two of you, there was nothing but the sound of your desperate pants of deprived breath. 

It felt like everything had frozen at that moment when San’s eyes met yours, it was like you had just seen a thousand stars pooling in his eyes when he pecked your lip. 

You pulled back to get a better look, still accumulating your clear vision as San rolled off the latex without looking down, discarding it in the trash can beside you. A small bead of sweat lined the side of his face, making you pat it away with a tissue you pulled from the box behind you. 

“Your makeup’s ruined” San pulled up his boxers along with his pants, letting it hang at his hips as he leaned forward with his hands rested against the edge of the counter. 

“Not like I’m going anywhere afterwards” You gently dabbed San’s sweat away before throwing the tissue into the trash, leaning back on your arms with San still inches away from your face.

“I can try to sneak you out” San whispered, gazing deeply into your eyes as you did the same.

“Now why would you want to do that?” 

“To have proper fun” San pushed himself off the counter, reaching down for your panties that had been plastered onto the floor just ages ago before carefully sliding them back up your leg and holding your ass in the process, caressing it gently.

“We just had our fun” You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his naked one as you hopped off the counter.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other quite often” 

“I’m actually counting on it” You traced your finger along the outline of his pecks before landing a soft kiss on his lips one last time.

“Music to my ears”

“Hm?”

“Party’s over, sweetheart”

_

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho      All Rights Reserved

[shadowgeist-stars]

Kitagawa First: So Heavy the Crown

It should've been like any other Monday. Toru and Iwaizumi should've gone about their day off from practice as they usually did. He'd brought his nephew home and the two had intended to get something to eat together.

They should not have seen Tobio, of all people, standing in the cemetery.

It was already unlike him to be away from practice with the other crows this early in the afternoon. Especially wearing an oversized jacket vaguely similar to what they wore back in middle school. The strange hoodie he wore was familiar, but somehow not quite right; it even looked a little big for him.

“What in the world is he doing out here?” Iwaizumi wondered.

“Let’s go check it out,” Toru suggested with a smile. This could be a perfect opportunity to learn something about their former junior.

He was talking, they realized as they drew close. To himself, most likely, but Toru decided to take the stealthy route to hear exactly what Tobio was saying.

“I didn’t make it to Shiratorizawa like you did… but I think I still found a good team… At least, I hope you’d like them. Shiratorizawa might be too different from when you were there anyway… I still think about what you told me, back then… how if I got really good at volleyball, someone even better would come find me. I thought I found that person in middle school where you used to coach… But I guess it didn’t work out how I hoped…”

A small pang in Toru’s stomach told him that was probably about him. He was able to look at the name on the gravestone Tobio stood in front of, though, as well as the birth-to-death dates.

Kazuyo Kageyama… 1936-2010… sounds like a grandparent. And a volleyball coach, as well? Hmm... Volleyball must simply run in the family.

“But now, I think I found someone who is like what you were saying,” Tobio continued to the gravestone. “He may not look like much. He’s short, super annoying, and kind of a dumbass… but he’s the fastest and highest-jumping spiker I’ve ever seen… And sometimes, he’s the best friend someone like me could ask for.”

His head eventually lowered, his body starting to curl in on itself like he was going to fall to his knees. The third years almost thought they were starting to hear him sniffle.

“I just wish you could meet him, and everyone else… I think you’d like meeting them all. Sugawara and Asahi and Daichi… All the second years like Noya and Tanaka… maybe even Tadashi and Tsukishima and our managers and our coach and Mr. Takeda…” He crumbled to the ground with a sob. “I just… I miss you, Grandpa. More than Miwa or our parents. I have ever since…”

That was when the name finally clicked. Kazuyo Kageyama was the old coach of the infamous local ladies volleyball team, the Kitagawa Birds, who was forced into retirement due to illness. If both Tobio and this Miwa were related to him and he taught both of them volleyball from a really young age, it would’ve made sense that Kageyama would be such a good player so early on. And since the date said he died during Tobio’s second year in middle school… that had to have hit him hard.

Possibly… hard enough to make him into what Kunimi and Kindaichi called “the King of the Court.”

Iwaizumi took a small step closer, flinching when he stepped on the grass in just the right way that would make noise. Enough noise for Tobio to flinch away from the source and twist backward to see them both standing there. And more importantly, for them to see the tears starting to dribble down his face.

“Uh-um… what are you two doing here?” he asked, trying to clean his face with his sleeve (most likely to be his grandfather’s jacket).

“We’d ask you the same thing, but we heard enough to answer for us,” Toru replied. “Please, don’t let us stop you.”

Iwa slapped him on the back of the head. “Ignore him. We were just wondering what you were doing away from your team in a place like this.” His eyes scanned the gravestone once more, guiding Tobio into a position where the three could sit together. “You never really told any of us about your grandfather back in middle school, did you Kageyama?”

The first year shook his head.

“Didn’t think so… Well, if you’re feeling up for it with your old upperclassmen… care to share?”

Tobio drummed his fingers on top of one another for about a minute, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, let’s start small. Was your Grandpa the, uh… reason, why you got into volleyball?”

Tobio looked to his grandfather’s grave. “Sort of. He and my sister, Miwa, would always tell me about how I managed to get my hands on her volleyball when I was… a baby… and how I didn’t wanna let go of it. That might’ve been where it all started, but since Grandpa is the only one I really remember raising us, we’d both usually be with him when he was coaching the Kitagawa Birds, playing with some of the ladies, helping them practice, or just passing a ball to each other in a corner of the gym or practicing ourselves with the wall.”

The small story piqued Toru’s interest. Frankly, he found the mental image adorable, seeing a baby Tobio holding onto a volleyball and somehow keeping a grip on it with hands no bigger than the end of his thumb. His memory might be a little faded, but something similar could’ve happened with his nephew Takeru. And Tobio Kageyama, not actually being an only child… He couldn’t help wondering if that sister of his looked all that similar.

Iwaizumi seemed to like how it was going so far. “Okay. We remember you wanted to go to Shiratorizawa even back in middle school. Did your Grandpa have something to do with that?”

Tobio nodded. “He used to be a middle blocker for their team. Showed me his old yearbook and everything. Probably before the current coach showed up, though.”

“So it really does run in the family,” Toru commented. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised though.”

The smaller boy shrugged. “Miwa wound up quitting volleyball after middle school. She was getting more into fashion and stuff anyways, and didn’t like how she was always being told to cut her hair. At least, I think that was the reason.”

Wow. That, Toru could get behind, no questions asked. Sure, he wouldn’t give up volleyball for the world, but he’d definitely take offense if he was always being told to do something like change his looks or cut his lovely hair. That said, it was good to hear Tobio’s sister found her own calling, even if it wasn’t sports-related.

“Kinda wish you were able to introduce your sister and grandfather to the team, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi remarked. “They sound like it’d be pretty interesting to meet them both. Wasn’t your grandfather still coaching in middle school?”

The dark heaviness returned to the young setter. “No… Grandpa was already in and out of the hospital for a long time by then; more one than the other, though. He was able to keep on a brave face for me… but in second year, after you left, he… he…” his voice started quivering, the tears starting to return with new fury. “He left us behind… left me behind… I couldn’t even cry at his damn funeral because it never really hit me! And then after he left… Miwa had to get ready to move away for university… Our parents were distant enough even before he died, and… and then my own team left me!” He wrapped himself tight in his grandfather’s jacket, hands even moving to tangle into his hair. “I was all alone… I didn’t even know what I did wrong… Why all of a sudden I didn’t have anyone anymore!… Why?... Why, why, why?!”

Iwaizumi was quick to hug Tobio from the side, glaring over at Toru until he mirrored the action. It had already been clear enough that Tobio had been holding this all in for a long time. How just losing one person -- closer to him than anyone else in the world -- made him go from a sweet and eager-to-please junior (who still reminded Toru of Ushijima in some ways) to the bad-tempered dictator whose team got so fed up with him that he was given the boot.

No wonder, Toru thought to himself, sadness and guilt pooling in his stomach again. No wonder Tobio became so self-reliant. No wonder he underwent such a change in temperament. What kind of void did middle school leave behind while no one else was able to see?

First, he lost the two of us.

Then he lost his grandfather.

Then he lost his sister.

…Then he lost his team.

He understood now, to some extent. Kazuyo Kageyama didn’t just introduce his grandson to volleyball; he was the reason why the boy loved it so much. But when he left, so did the better parts of Tobio. There was no family or friends to help him carry that weight; it was just him.

Him, and the weight that threatened to crush him, that so many were so willing to call a crown. A tarnished, broken, absurdly heavy crown that they were only beginning to realize here and now.

Until by some miracle, Karasuno and that little shrimp brought him back to some semblance of his old self. Before them, he was left with nothing and no one but himself to rely on. He carried all of that grief, guilt, and frustration on his head for the better part of two years, not knowing what to do with it or with himself.

So they let him cry. They let him drop those long years of forcing down his grief over who he loved most, in loud, chest-ripping wails. Iwaizumi ensured they both kept him wrapped up in their arms, maintaining that small reminder that he should’ve never had to endure that alone. The spite Toru felt for Tobio all that time seemed to melt as well, filling in all the blanks for why he was such a good player and so eager to please and so not deserving of such hatred. Every assumption he made was dissolved by the knowledge about a single person.

“Huh? Toby, what are you doing over there?” a new voice inquired after a time they didn’t give any thought to. “And who are your friends?”

Toru looked through blurred vision at an approaching woman. She was probably around their age, with black, meticulously-styled hair and -- once he blinked away the mist -- deep blue eyes very similar to the first year he and Iwaizumi were hugging.

“Mi -- Miwa…” Tobio managed to hiccup out. The woman held a hand out to him, something he looked at with an almost painful mix of confusion and disbelief before he took it and let her pull him up. And even then, he barely maintained his composure long enough to droop over her shoulder, gripping at her in a desperate hug.

“Shh… I know, Toby, I know…” she soothed, rubbing circles into his back. “I miss him, too… I’m so sorry, Toby…”

He stayed there a little longer before numbly stepping away, wiping his face with his sleeve again.

The Seijoh players were shattered by the look in his eyes. The way they looked so… dead, and tired.

How did no one realize he was becoming like this?

Tobio almost swayed another direction before Iwaizumi stepped in and grabbed him. “Easy there, kiddo. Just lean on me -- there we go.” He looked over to the woman with a dip of his head. “I’m Hajime Iwaizumi, and this jerk over here is Toru Oikawa. We knew Kageyama back in middle school.”

The woman seemed to scan the two of them, almost skeptical.

“We’d be happy to help you out with Tobio,” Toru offered, all too happy to take on the diplomatic duty he was so used to. “He was telling us about his grandfather, you see, and it’s clear how much has been on his shoulders since his passing. We were doing what we could as his old upperclassmen.”

“I see…” Miwa replied, turning on her heel. “Follow me. My car’s not far from here.”

Iwaizumi had decided to sit in the backseat with Tobio, keeping him steady as he all but dozed on his shoulder. Toru rode shotgun while the Karasuno player’s sister drove them to the Kageyama household.

“I can’t believe he’s held onto Grandpa’s old track hoodie this long,” Miwa commented. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Because he and his grandfather were that close?” Toru inquired.

The woman nodded. “Even closer than I was with either of ‘em. Grandpa was really all he had, ever since… well, there was always that one thing our parents didn’t like for some reason.”

...Secretly, Toru had a feeling he knew what exactly “that one thing” was. He had his suspicions of the way Tobio behaved, almost entirely fixated on volleyball. The way he subconsciously reminded him of Ushijima. Who knows? Perhaps even the famous Ushiwaka was introduced to volleyball that early on as well, and had the same sort of mind.

“I suppose that’s simply an unfortunate truth with some people,” he replied offhandedly. “I’ll admit, I and some of our current teammates weren’t exactly fond of him in middle school. But then again, none of us had a clue about his personal life, and I’d wager Tobio didn’t even give himself time to grieve.”

“I guess I can’t blame you there. Toby never consciously dwelled on things that he didn’t think he had to, for better or worse. He wanted to be just like Grandpa, but after graduating from middle school not being able to get into Shiratorizawa, he figured volleyball was the only thing he had left.”

“And even then, he was all on his own,” Iwaizumi finished from the backseat when they stopped at the house. He even helped carry Kageyama inside. “We all knew how Oikawa gave the poor kid a hard time when he was still an eager-to-please prodigy in his first year, and even heard how his sudden change in attitude in his second year left him ostracized by the team. Though we never saw the other side of the story until now.”

He didn't even need to say it was because they refused to hear it.

After the Aoba Johsai players put the younger boy to bed, they both went to the bathroom to wash their faces of tears. On the way back down, they discovered the pictures that littered the house. A happy family that comprised of parents, a grandfather, and a little girl. But when a baby boy appeared, there was only one of all five before the parents all but disappeared. The only ones after were the two children and their grandfather.

In all of them, the grandfather in question sported a wide, proud smile. Whether it be with a far younger Miwa trying to brush his hair, tossing a volleyball with the even younger Tobio, or all three of them together, he still had that smile. A sort of light that went missing when he passed away, leaving both of his grandchildren behind.

“Your grandfather must’ve been quite a splendid role model for the both of you,” Toru said softly. “A light that even Tobio didn’t deserve to lose.”

Miwa hummed thoughtfully, leaving some tea to steep in a pot. “I don’t think Toby even realized how badly he was hurting. Honestly, I kinda wish I didn’t have to leave him so soon. If I knew how badly he was affected by Grandpa’s death, I would’ve held off on school just to make sure he’d have at least someone to be there… Maybe I just put too much trust into his teammates supporting him.”

Because Kindaichi and Kunimi thought he was nothing but a dictator at the sport. They didn’t think for a second that he might’ve just been lonely or in pain.

…Then again, neither did we.

“I don’t think you have to worry much about him now, though,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “We know we failed the poor kid, as his former teammates and as his upperclassmen, and we’re far from the only ones who did so. But I plan to make sure we fix that.”

Toru smiled at the ace’s declaration, looking towards Tobio’s room. Even if the now-sleeping boy may never really trust Toru again, at least his beloved might be able to get through to the younger setter. If they find the chance, they might even get Kindaichi and Kunimi to understand as well, and enlist their help in making amends.

“Besides, ever since joining Karasuno, we can tell he’s doing a lot better,” Toru added. “He’s… finally found a place where he fits in. And I for one doubt those crows will leave him the way we did, especially not his new little go-to spiker. Whether he finds it in him to tell them about this or not, I can at least be confident that they’ll stand with him.”

Miwa smiled at them both, finally pouring the tea for all three of them. “I’m glad for that, you two. Toby needs a lot of friends to make up for not having anyone before. Whether they know about Grandpa or not, I just want him to find a family of his own, if only to make sure it’s not just the two of us looking out for each other.”

The two young men could only stick around for about another hour, conversing with Miwa and looking after their former underclassman. They told her about each of the crows to the best of their ability, the woman occasionally throwing in her two cents about whoever Tobio actually told her about. When the sun said they had to head home, they gave Tobio one last check before they left with a final goodbye and thank-you to Miwa.

As they left, though, Toru couldn't help but take a final look at the almost foreboding Kageyama household, holding onto his boyfriend's arm. "Iwa… do you think Tobio will tell his other teammates about his grandfather? Should he?"

Iwaizumi sighed. "It would probably be a good idea, but I doubt it. He'll probably tell the little sunspot and Karasuno's other setter, if no one else, but only time will tell."

…I guess that's true, Toru thought to himself dully. Only time will tell, and trust as well…