#this game brings joy and pleasant distraction though

[alvariearmy]

Some of my theories for Scarlet Hollow so far. Posting before episode 4 comes out to see which ones survive it and which ones are destroyed or altered in some way! Who knows, maybe one or two of them might even be confirmed.

And yeah, most of these theories will be long, but mostly because I am providing "evidence" as to why I think they are plausible!

Spoilers under the cut!

Reese is a werewolf. Fairly popular one, from what I have seen, but I feel like there is a lot more evidence for this theory than for vampire. (Though I would love him either way, Reese is my favorite romance option, especially with the likelihood of him being... not human.) First thing that tipped me off that he might be more than human is that he seemed to be struggling to eat. But open playing that scene several times, I realized he wasn't struggling with the food, necessarily. It feels like a misdirect now. But thinking about it, that was the first point where we started to see Reese frustrated or angry at all, and it was only then that he felt bad and rushed off. Add that his mother was scared of him and quickly ushered us out of the house... classic werewolf, transforms from anger. He also describes some of his symptoms, with one being that he feels like there is something moving under his skin constantly, and his skin is also... very stretchy. Beast lurking just below the flesh, maybe? And the final hint I can think of right now is that you can ask Stella if she believes in other things, such as ghosts, vampires, and werewolves, and she focuses in on werewolves as potentially being real. Of course, I'm still open to vampire, but werewolf currently seems more likely to me!

Pearlanne killed Wayne, and Tabitha killed Pearlanne. I don't know if it is outright confirmed or not that Pearlanne killed Wayne. I mean, we aren't even fully sure Wayne is dead, but he certainly looks and smells dead. If you spend the third day with Tabitha, you learn that Pearlanne had chased off previous lovers, and we know that Tabitha has not had the best luck in general with relationships, likely largely thanks to Pearlanne. So if Wayne was harder to scare off... it would make sense for Pearlanne to kill him. Based on all the things we've heard, from our mother Vivian and from all the people in town, Pearlanne was never the gentle sort. I would not put something like murder past her. (Alternative: She did not kill Wayne, but cursed him in a way that makes him appear dead and created a disconnect between his body and soul. Would be a neat twist.) Now, the second half of the theory... I don't know how much Tabitha really liked Wayne. Maybe she loved him, maybe he was just another lover who ended badly. Either way, he was Tabitha's last straw, and after his disappearance, she had enough and offed her mother. We can learn that Pearlanne died in her sleep, supposedly suffocated from sleep apnea. Which is plausible, sure, but it feels too clean. And Tabitha noticeably feels anger towards her mother, and she is uncomfortable with the idea of the police poking around too closely. Seems unlikely that she vouches for us on the second morning purely out of the kindness of her heart. So, she killed her abusive mother and is hoping the police remain incompetent enough to stay out of it.

Tabitha definitely knows more than she is letting on. I am still unsure of the degree, but even beyond my theory that she killed Pearlanne... She is weirdly protective over us. The first day, she barely talks to us, but she blows up our phone when we are out with Stella. She then puts up a curfew, she drags us into town with her, all to try and make sure we stay safe. I do believe her in the maze, when she says she does not know about certain aspects of the family history or what is hidden in the forbidden wing of the estate. But she definitely knows a lot more than she lets on. And if you can Talk To Animals and speak with Dustin, he talks about a second person living in the house; I am assuming Tabitha is the sad person, so that means the second one is the scary person. I suspect Tabitha knows something about this "scary" person, but she is not saying for one reason or other. Maybe they are the person we hear playing the piano if you manage to break into the forbidden wing?

Sybil is definitely something powerful. A witch? Maybe. Or maybe something even greater than that. Mystics have a strong reaction to just meeting her. In my mind, that is how I imagine it would be to meet an angel. Not to say I think Sybil is an angel, necessarily, but it is something I am not ruling out. It could just be that she has powerful magic and is just a very powerful witch. I hope to get more hints about Sybil in episode 4, to see if maybe this theory can get a little more substance.

[mothwingwritings]

Frohe Weihnachten

Boyfriend To Death Strade X F! Reader X Ren

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! By some miracle of the holiday season I have arrived and even wrote something, even if it is random and I struggled to get finished before Christmas. But I did it and now  I offer it to you humbly as a lil gift.

This month has unfortunately bad. All the bad had me looking for distractions to keep me from the gloom, and the search for distractions lead me to replaying Boyfriend To Death 1, and replaying BTD made me start Boyfriend to Death 2, and well… Here we are. It’s been one of the few things I could focus on that brought me joy this month (what that says about my mental health we will leave up to interpretation loooooool :)), so I decided to try my hand at writing something for it. It proved to be a fun challenge, and I am hoping to do some more BTD stuff in the future. :3

ANYWAY here is a Strade-centric fic (Ren is there too, though) I churned out amidst the December bs. He’s spoiling you in it which isn’t really a good thing for you. I hope I did him justice. He is a very nuanced guy and I had a lot of fun writing this. I can slowly feel god awful, horrible men  becoming my forte , and at this point I am just embracing it.

Please be mindful that BTD and BTD2 are adult games, so even though there is no explicit NSFW in this fic, it is for 18+ only just as its source material is. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this, thank you!

WARNINGS: Torture, stabbing, blood, degradation, forced stripping, pet play, mentions of rape/noncon, Strade is filming a snuff film and though you are a part of it, you are not the one being snuffed (congrats!), severing of body parts, nonconsensual filming and touching, kidnapping, imprisonment, butchered German (my highschool German teacher is crying somewhere) and probs some shoddy editing (sorry for the rush!).

Staring down at the gifts laid out before you, a thin layer of sweat began to coat your body.

It wasn’t so much that the boxes wrapped in vibrant, pretty, paper were that unnatural (it was Christmas day, after all) so much as it was shocking that you had received them at all, given the circumstances.

This was your first Christmas away from home, the first holiday season spent without the company of your friends and family, and their absence felt like a swift punch in the gut. None of the old traditions and celebrations you were accustomed to partaking in were around to bring you comfort this year, the laid back, pleasant atmosphere that typically encapsulated  Christmas was nowhere to be found. Any jolly vibe was replaced by discomfort, apprehension, and a festering disquiet that permeated the air, killing any and all fun normal for this day.

Across from the looming assortment of gifts, each wrapped in varying degrees of expertise, sat your captor Strade, and parked next to him was your fellow captive Ren. Both sets of eyes were drinking you in with great interest, the out-of-place youthful enthusiasm reflecting back at you doing little to quell your mounting anxiety. You shifted nervously in your seat, trying your best to remain calm. You had no idea what manner of sick surprise awaited you in those packages, all you knew was that you were dreading opening them, especially with these two watching. Thinking of what the wrong reaction to their presents may illicit was more stress inducing than the gifts themselves, which already made you feel like you were developing a hernia.

“Well, go ahead,” Strade was the first to speak, his lazy drawl and splayed out body contradicting heavily with the frenzied look in his eye, “What are you waiting for?”

Ren nodded beside him eagerly, “Go ahead, (name)! I opened mine earlier because I was too excited to wait,” he chuckled a little, a small, bashful blush illuminating his cheeks, “And um, there’s a few for you in there from me so… I hope you like them.”

Your eyes traveled from the men, down to the presents. You swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by their façade of innocence, violated by their unblinking stares.

“I-I’m sorry, I just um… Wasn’t really expecting… this…”

It wasn’t a lie, the last thing you could have predicted was a present, let alone multiple. You figured maybe Ren would get you something (he had the luxury of internet access, something you were yet to be trusted with), but it wasn’t even within the realm of fantasy that you may receive anything from Strade. The only thing you dared hope for was a small reprieve from the abuse he inflicted daily, but even that seemed too farfetched to hope for.

“Well, I say you deserve it,” Strade spoke, the calm cadence of his voice still clashing with the gleam in his eye, “what’s Christmas without presents, after all? So go ahead, open them.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally reaching a shaky hand towards the closet gift on the table. Your body was moving mechanically, and though your fear was palpable, you forced your demeanor to remain composed as you pulled the small box into your lap. Your fingers carefully tore through the thin paper, dreading revealing the mystery that shiny paper shielded you from.

And as the paper fell away piece by piece, you were shocked to find that the box contained… slippers.

You stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Of all the things in the world that could have been waiting inside that box, to receive something so innocuous and normal was beyond perplexing.

And the gifts continued this way. You unwrapped package after package of clothing, perfumes and toiletries, stuffed animals and snacks. Each new item bewildered you just as much as the last, leaving you feeling like all this was just the lead up of  a joke, one you felt like you were the punch line for.

 As if the gifts themselves weren’t mind boggling enough, the quantity and quality of them were just as shocking. Brand names and fancy, high end packaging stared back at you with nearly each ripped wrapping, a small slap in the face with each revelation.

It left a pit in your stomach. Not even your own parents would gift you some of these things, so why were you being treated this way by a homicidal maniac and his companion? To make matters even worse, most of the gift you actually liked. Definite thought was put into each present, unnerving you most of all. You didn’t want them to know your likes and dislikes, and you certainly didn’t want them to be so familiar with you that they could easily pick out things you may desire. It felt borderline offensive that they were able to peg you so well, like you had been wrenched open and all the hidden parts of yourself you had been hiding had been forced out in the open, secrets uncovered you wished to remain hidden.

Heebie jeebies aside, such normalcy left you scratching your head. You had an intense urge to inspect each and every item to make sure the clothes weren’t secretly lined with razors, or the stuffed animals weren’t just cute ways to conceal knives, but you contained yourself. No use in setting them off when things were going surprisingly well.

You kept yourself neutral as you thanked them, neither over eager or ungrateful as you graciously accepted the offerings. Ren beamed in recognition each time you mentioned him, delighted by the simplest praise. Strade remained nonchalant, leaning back as he leered at you with that unnerving smile he always so proudly donned on his face.

When the present pile had come to an end, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over you. You felt like you had made it out of a vary harrowing journey without so much as a scratch, and felt quite accomplished for doing so.

However, before you could feel the weight truly lifted from your shoulders, any sense of triumph quickly flew out the door as Strade slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His beady eyes drilled holes through you, delighting in the apprehension his subtle shift caused you. Your blood turned to ice as he gave you a lopsided grin, his words coming out drawn out and slow, as if he were speaking to a child.

“Myyy look at that,” he sneered, “so many nice things for our (Name)! She must have some very generous admirers. It’s obvious she’s the favorite, not a single one of those boxes were for you or me, Ren!”

The weight of your situation suddenly crashed down around you. Of course these gifts wouldn’t come without some horrible caveat-you were an idiot for even thinking you would get away with this scot free.

You tried to calm yourself with the fact that Strade most likely wouldn’t go through all the hassle of spending all this money on someone he planned to kill shortly after. What would be the point? But that thought birthed an even worse fear, the expectation of getting something back in return. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be able to provide him a physical gift, a fact Strade was intimately aware of. That left you with one option- he was looking for reciprocation through different means.

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you clasped them in your lap, struggling with how to word the imminent question you had.

“Do you want… I mean, should I get you something in return?”

You hated how small your voice sounded, dreading the response your words may garner. A shiver rocked you as the smile on Strade’s face spread, his arms spreading out in a dramatic shrug as he shook his head with a laugh.

“No no, please! The only thing I want in return is for you to thoroughly enjoy your gifts, nothing else is needed. Your delight is a gift in and of itself.”

His words did little to help your dwindling nerves. A sudden harsh clap of his hands made your heart skip a beat, his body pivoting to face Ren with a sadistic smile.

“I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, his voice taking a dangerous edge, “we have one more very special surprise for our girl, don’t we?”

Your attention darted to Ren, hoping for a sign of assurance from him. The beatskin started to squirm a bit in his seat, pulling nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. He looked over at you with lidded eyes, a dangerous gleam in them that you knew was a terrible precursor of the pain to come. 

Ren’s breathing had grown unsteady, the blush that had engulfed his face becoming so vibrant you could almost feel its heat from where you sat. While there was nervousness to his demeanor, he couldn’t quite mask the hints of his exhilaration from peeking through. The guileless enthusiasm was hard to face, causing you to avert your gaze, your heart sinking deeper. Ren was no saint himself, but he was all you had in this hell that masqueraded as a normal, middle class home. He was supposed to have your back (and often times did) in moments like these, but it appeared his demons won this round. The thrill radiating from him over your oncoming misery was perceptible. You were on your own with whatever lay ahead.

With a jerk of Strades head, Ren bounded off the couch to another room, the sound of subtle clanging reaching your ears as he dug around out of sight. You careened your body, hoping to maybe get a peek of whatever the hell Ren had ran so jubilantly to acquire, but you immediately stopped once you heard a chuckle rumble from Strade’s chest.

“My my~,” he purred, the sound causing an instinctive shiver, “so eager this morning (name)! I can only hope you keep that up once you see what the surprise actually is, hm?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Ren barreled back into the room, slightly out of breath and clutching some sort of metallic, chain linked contraption in is hand.

“Sorry,” he lightly huffed, handing the item in question to Strade, “I hid it really well so it took a moment to get.”

Once it was in his grasp, Strade turned to you, holding out the item so you could finally view it in all its glory.

It was a new collar-a dog training collar, to be precise. This one however had been modified, the spikes lining the interior of the collar, while typically coated with a thick, squishy plastic to as not to hurt the dog in their training stage, were missing their protection. The metal nubs that the plastic encased were also typically dull and rounded on most training collars, meant to poke and prod instead of maim and hurt. You would not be getting that manner of gentle encouragement it seemed, your body tensing as you stared at each harshly pointed spike. The needle like protrusions glistened so brilliantly in the overhead light it almost appeared as if the collar was made of diamonds.

You sat perfectly still, in a complete daze as Strade approached you and swiftly released the thick electric collar from around your neck. The cool air hit your sweat drenched flesh, giving you a chill. While it was nice to be without the weight of that vile contraption, the freedom was only momentary as he clasped your new chain links into place across your throat. Though it was much more delicate than your previous collar, for some reason it felt much heavier than its bulky electric counterpart.

You winced as he gave the leash a small pull, grinning when a sharp, shocked cry fell past your lips. The needles hadn’t broken the skin yet, but the action did make you become keenly aware of just much damage they could cause with very minimal effort. The delicate nature of your current standing was looking bleaker with each passing second, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body as you eyed Strade fiddling carelessly with your leash. He seemed pleased by the attention his minor ministrations were awarding him, humored by the pain he could bring you with a mere flick of his wrist.

“I-it looks pretty on you, (Name),” Ren stuttered, a nervous smile complimenting the red of his cheeks, “Kind of dainty, like a fancy necklace. It really suits you.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Strade jeered, fingering the chains that hung heavy around your neck, “I considered one for you too Ren, I didn’t want to make you jealous, you know? But then I figured hell, if I get this for (Name) Ren’ll probably enjoy this just as much as I do, so it’s already a two for one deal.”

Giving your cheek a few mild slaps, Strade turned his gaze towards Ren, “I trust that you’ll take good care of (Name) if I’m ever out and about and you want to have some special fun with her. A little pet time for my pet would do him some good, I think.”

The flippant insinuation made bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Now,” Strade pulled tighter on the leash, prompting you to rise to your feet and stand before the men. He lifted the chain above his head, laughing as you rose to tiptoes to avoid gouging your neck, “What do we say after we receive such a nice present, hmmm~?”

“Thank you,” you choked the words through your indignation, the spikes scratching uncomfortably against your skin as you did so. After several seconds of your balancing act, Strade lowered his hand, granting you the ability to stand normally. You released the breath you were holding, thankful that for at least this moment, you escaped agony.

“So ein gutes Mädchen für mich,” he cooed condescendingly, patting your head as if you were an actual dog, “you are really making me proud! But the fun isn’t over yet, in fact, this is just the first part of your special surprise,” his eyes widened at your obvious despair, “Aren’t you lucky?”

Without further ado he stomped past you, leash gripped tightly in his hand as he led your further into the house. While there was more leeway to the leash than anticipated, you still hustled to follow after him, fearful of the barbs encircling your throat. His whistled as he walked, his demeanor so exuberant that for a moment you felt he might start skipping. Ren trailed behind you, following closely in your footsteps.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on to where you were headed. As you came to stop before the thick, iron door that separated the rest of the house from the hell-hole that was the basement, tidal wave of fear washed over you. Strade took a deep breath, relishing all that was too come, immersed in the anticipation he was undoubtedly feeling. He turned to you and smiled, and you fought to keep a grip on your sanity. Feeling feint, your eyes flicked from him, back to the imposing door. Your heart was banging so violently in your chest from the sheer amount of terror that was coursing through your veins that you worried you may pass out.

How many people had met cruel, agonizing fates down those stairs? How many gallons of blood had dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, snaked through the drains? How many anguished screams had reverberated off those sound proof walls?

You began to panic as Strade opened the door with ease, wasting no time making his way down. You hadn’t been to the basement since Strade had kidnapped you many months ago and you had hoped it would be a place that you never found yourself in again. It relieved you when Strade had forbid you and Ren from stepping foot down there, one of the few orders he gave that you were actually happy to oblige. Strade only took people to the basement for one reason and one reason only, and the fact that he was so pleasantly dragging you down there right now did not bode well for you in the slightest.

“W-wait,” you called out nervously, grabbing at the chain leash in an attempt to stop his descent. “W-why are we going down here?”

“Because it’s where the rest of your present is,” he answered as if it were obvious, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he shot you a pointed look, “Now come on.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle touch on your shoulder stopped you.

“It’s ok, (Name),” Ren’s voice sounded softly in your ear. You could tell he was doing his best to sound reassuring. “We are allowed down there today, Strade said we could as a special treat for Christmas. It’s OK, I promise,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before planting a fleeting kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

His words did little to assuage the overwhelming terror you were feeling, sinking its claws deep in your battered soul, holding you in a death grip. You were past the point of a panic attack, now fearing a heart attack may be what does you in. At this point you wondered if that would be a mercy over whatever awaited you down there.

Forced breathes rattled from your lungs, erratic and strained as you stared into Strade’s expectant eyes, knowing his patience was rapidly diminishing. As much as you wanted to get whatever was coming over with, your legs lost the ability to move, your body denying every command your brain was giving to take the first step.

Hesitating a moment too long elicited a brutal tug from Strade, effectively ending your indecision as you were sent tumbling down after him. You whimpered as you felt the barbs of the collar tear into your flesh. Small rivulets of blood snaked from each fresh wound, dripping down your shoulders, back, and chest to strain the collar of your shirt. As a rare act of mercy, Strade caught you, his thick arm acting as a barrier between you and the concrete you were plummeting head first towards.  For once you were thankful to be within the monster’s grasp, a sore chest and aching shoulder from where he grabbed you were far better than any injury you would have attained from the fall.

Consumed by a rush of adrenaline from the tumble, you neglected to realize your hands had latched to Strade’s arm like a lifeline. Embarrassment flooded you, quickly prompting you to release your hold on him. He laughed at the flush on your cheeks, your body jostling along with the rumble of his chest. His hand relinquished its grip on your shoulder, leaving behind angry red fingerprints, as if he had seared your flesh with a mere touch. His newly freed hand moved to tangle itself in your hair, eliciting a whimper as his nails dug into your scalp. Each place his body made contact with yours felt like it was burning.

Without warning, he roughly brought the side of your head to his lips, the stubble of his cheeks scratching your skin as he smashed his face against yours, taking in a deep breath. Excited puffs of breath tickled your ear as he spoke.

 “Hurry up now,” his voice was gruff, but the words came out in a sing-song manner, “Don’t start misbehaving now, it would be a total bummer if you had to miss out on this, (Name)~”

With a wistful sigh he released his hold, leaving your momentarily reeling as you stumbled back, trying to reclaim your baring’s. Strade didn’t give much of a chance to do so, continuing on his way with another yank of the leash, forcing you to scramble after him once more.

Your body gave an involuntary shiver as your feet touched the chilly concrete floor. Strade flipped the lights, causing you to recoil at the sudden brightness. Your eyes grew watery as they struggled to adjust, but when they finally did you wished more than ever you could have just remained in the dark.

Though you hadn’t been in the basement since the week of your capture, everything was just as you remembered it. Horrible memories flooded your mind as you took in your surroundings, your brain assaulted by flashbacks of months prior. All the same home appliances and tools still lined the back wall, typically innocent devices most people used for repair jobs and building projects that no one would take a second glance at were this a normal basement. In Strades hands however, they became tools of destruction and torment, capable of the vilest atrocities.

You heard the loud whirring of the freezer off to the side before you saw it, the outdated device still valiantly chugging away as it preserved god knows what on its rickety inner shelves. The noise it spewed was so grating you wondered why he didn’t just replace the damn thing, or at least try and fix it. Near it stood the work table that housed his buzzsaw, looming ominously as it waited patiently for its next use (whether that be for flesh or for wood, who was to say?).

Witnessing these normally mundane items again made your chest hurt, a deep, indescribable level of horror spreading through every inch of your body as you struggled to reacclimate yourself. You were sure this place would haunt you as long as you lived, whether you stood in it or not didn’t matter.

Your throat went dry as you stared at the dark stains that littered the floor, remnants of various human’s bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, piss, and everything else that may leak from a human corpse was so continuous and abundant that there was no hope of the marks ever diminishing. Something told you Strade didn’t seem to mind, however. If anything, seeing those stains probably brought him some level of happiness, acting as pleasant little reminders of all the slaughter he had committed, a trophy for the lives he had stolen.

And there, smack dab in the middle of the basement stood the support beam he had tied you to, effectively barring your escape from this place. Witnessing it again was bad enough, but as your eyes locked onto it your heart started racing once more, your terror hitting unprecedented levels at the realization that there was a body there, tied up and trapped just as you once were.

At first you thought maybe you were hallucinating, seeing some phantom version of yourself your mind had conjured under the extreme stress you were facing. But as you continued to stare, noticing the slight rise and fall of their chest, hearing the small wheezes coming from their direction with each motion, it became apparent they were no figment of your imagination. Long hair fell from their slumped head, obscuring your vision of their face, but judging by what you could see of their body they looked to be around your age, similar to your build. You couldn’t help but wonder if you shared other features, had the same eye color, or maybe a similar facial structure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Strade picked them because they reminded him of you.

Witnessing another human in this state made your stomach turn. It wasn’t so long ago that you were in that exact situation, and seeing them there helpless and oblivious to what lay before them filled you with the distressing urge to try and rescue them. If you could only run to them, untie their bindings and embrace them, let them know you were there for them and that they would be ok… Stupidly wisheful thinking, but maybe a miracle could still happen and that sweet lie would come true…

You shook your head slightly, dispelling the thought. No, it was all a tragic pipe dream, the fact they were here meant they were as good as dead and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop that.

“Hey!”

Strade barked, breaking you from the spell you were under. You jumped to attention, your wide eyes turning to him to give him your full attention. His scowl lessened at your recognition, “I know it’s all very exciting (Name), but pay attention when I am talking to you, alright?”

“Sorry,” your mouth barely formed the word, spitting it out so fast you wondered if it was even understandable. You were still in shock from being in such a terrible place, your brain lost in a fog as it struggled to comprehend why you were here, what Strade wanted of you, who that person on the floor was, and if you would make it through the day.

He sighed before stepping closer to you, irritation still lingering in his features. You fought every urge telling you to bolt, your body jolting as he gently patted your cheeks. After a few soft pats to garner your attention his strong hands continued to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms. His skin was warm, the sweat from his hand moistening your skin as his thumb traced absentminded circles across scars he had created.

“Strip.”

The command didn’t register at first, making him lose patience. As you stood stock still his brows began to knit, foot tapping a bit as he waited for you to comply. After several seconds of inactivity on your end, he snapped his fingers in realization, his expression relaxing as something donned on him.

“Oh wait, it’s probably hard with the collar, right? Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

From an unseen back holster, he brandished an imposing hunting knife, one that you would remember anywhere. It was the same one he tormented you the day he met you, the feel of it on your skin seared into your memory for all eternity. It had done a brilliant job keeping you at bay when he first imprisoned you, serving him well as the main tool that broke you.

Seeing it again was all too overwhelming, all too horribly familiar. Your body quaked, tears starting to flood your eyes, making your vision waver. Your lips moved, your throat struggling to speak, fighting to come up with something, anything that may stop him from using it on you. But ultimately there was nothing you could force out, so you just stood there blankly, flapping your lips in a failed attempt at self-preservation.

“What’s wrong?” Strade pouted, pulling at your collar, forcing you closer to him. You could barely feel the pain through your terror. “If you have something to say, you should say it. Or are you just so thrilled by all this that you can’t form a coherent thought,” he tutted, “Ah, I know the feeling well (Name), but don’t suddenly go mute on me! I want to fully enjoy all of your reactions, so don’t hold back. Think of it as your gift to me.” You shivered as he placed the knife under your shirt, cutting away haphazardly at the thin fabric, uncaring that he was nicking your flesh in the process.

With his body so near, the only sound you could focus on was Strade’s labored, rasping breathes as they rattled from his throat. He blithely ripped what was left of your clothing from your body, leaving it discarded in torn heaps on the ground. Thankfully he spared your underwear, but as his fingers languidly played with the strap of your bra, you wondered if he wouldn’t also reconsider letting you keep what remained of your decency.

“Tonight will be so good, meine Haustier,” his voice sounded hoarse, thick with anticipation as he hovered over you, nuzzling his face into your hair, “… This reminds me a lot of the night I brought you home. Maybe I am just feeling nostalgic, having you down here with me again, but it’s hard not to get wrapped up in such fond memories.”

He chuckled, “I’m thankful I was able to reel myself in back then and keep you, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise.” He pointed his knife to the unconscious body on the floor, “This one I brought here today won’t be nearly as fun as you were, so I don’t want you to feel jealous, alright? You’re where you are for a reason, just as they are where they are for a reason. Mein Liebchen, I’m so glad I can share this moment with you...”

He pressed in closer to you, an unmistakable bulge in his pants grazing the exposed flesh of your leg as he did so. You both shuddered at the brief contact, though his reaction was for reasons far different than your own.

“This intimacy is nice, don’t you think? Sharing your passions with those close to you is what meaningful relationships are allllll about.”

He pulled away from you slightly, pressing the blade of his knife under your chin. Wincing at the briefest of contact with the blade, you raised your head to avoid slicing of your chin, stopping once you were eye to eye with Strade. Your noses nearly touched as he took in the features of your face, smiling at the sheer horror reflected in your eyes.

“And I want to remind you just how passionate I can be~”

He spun you around, giving you an abrupt shove. Unable to keep your balance you fell forward, your knees colliding with the stony floor. A hiss of pain slipped past your lips at the contact as Strade kneeled down next to you, tangling his fingers once more in your hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled your head up, directing your attention to the far corner of the room.

With his guidance, your gaze landed on something new.  A cage you couldn’t recall ever seeing filled your took up a sizable chunk of the side wall, making you wonder how you missed see it to begin with. How he got such an unwieldy contraption down the stairs previously without your notice was also lost on you. The thing looked far too heavy for one person to easily transport, even if it came in pieces.

It looked incredibly sturdy, each side comprised of thick, imposing iron bars. The cage was moderately sized- large enough for people to sit in, but not so large that it would be a comfortable arrangement. At a glance, it seemed to be made for a dog, but the girth of the bars and thick padlock on the door were completely unnecessary features for a canine, even the largest and most aggressive dog breeds wouldn’t need something so robust to keep them contained. Strade must have had it special made, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was made for. You clenched your fists, fighting the queasiness that this new facet of the day brought to the table. You knew the cage shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but you couldn’t help but be a bit addled by it. You briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much he would spend to fuel his sick intentions.

The cage sat off to the side, out of the way of the main walkway and slightly hidden behind the stairs so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was still close enough to the rest of the rooms fixtures that anyone trapped inside would have a clear view or what was happening around them. Which you figured was the point. What better seat for an unwilling audience?

“I originally bought this for Ren, but he was much easier to house train then you were.” Strade laughed, removing his hand from your hair to clap you on the shoulder. He turned his gaze to Ren who stood by the cage expectantly, waiting to fulfill his role in the nights unfolding misery. “Why don’t you show her inside, Ren? Get yourselves all comfy for the show.”

With a quick nod, Ren scampered in before you, giving you just enough room to squeeze in beside him. Nestling in, he turned to you with a strange mix of fear and anticipation in his eyes, patting the area next to you with a small smile on his lips.

“Come in, (Name),” he looked up at you through his lashes, bashful despite the situation he willingly crawled into, “There’s plenty of room.”

Strade gave you no opportunity to refute his invitation, dragging you along the floor by the collar until you arrived at the cages entrance. You gagged as the spikes dug into your flesh, your fingers attempting to find purchase and pull them out. But your grip kept slipping, the blood that coated each metallic link making it impossible to pry away.

At the entrance, Strade quickly unlatched your adjoining leash, pushing the side of his foot against your ass to shove you into the cage, treating you much the same way you would a misbehaving dog. He slammed the door behind you the moment your limbs were barely through the door, preventing you from backtracking. He hastily secured the huge padlock after he did so, effectively trapping you and Ren inside.

“I know you’ll watch, but I can’t trust her,” Strade spoke to Ren, kneeling down so that he was eye level with the two of you, “Latch her collar to the top bar, I want her focused.”

Ren was quick to follow orders, contorting himself around you so he could bind you to the cage. Part of you hoped he would show mercy, sneakily attaching the collar to a lower bar on the cage to give you more breathing room. As you felt the spikes dig farther into your skin that dream dashed from your mind. You choked back a sob as you heard the clasp click into place behind you, Ren planting a fleeting kiss to the top of your head as he did so, his way of begging forgiveness for the pain he was helping inflict

Sitting with your back completely straight, you kept your legs tucked under you, the full weight of your body supported by your knees. The slightest bit of slouching, leaning, or turning your head would plunge the spikes into your already torn up neck, amplifying your suffering. Locked into place, you were left with no choice but to sit at attention.

Maybe you could have unclasped the collar yourself for a bit of reprieve, you were sure after some blind fumbling you could figure out how to free yourself. But stuck behind a formidable lock with Strade on the other side, what would be the point? There was no place for you to run to, and if you disobeyed Strade at this point you were a sitting duck. A heavy sense of resignation settled in your soul. You no longer fought the tears that came to your eyes, letting them freely dribble down your checks to land in soft drops on your lap.

With no hope of escape, that left you with one option to get through this-endure.

“Überraschung,” Strade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stared down at you with wild, manic eyes. “What a sight this is! I must say (Name), even though your overall your obedience has improved, you still have quite the rebellious streak, don’t you?” He leaned down to get a better view of you, breathing deeply as his face began turning red from excitement, “Not that I don’t like when you get feisty, training and domesticating wild animals is something I take great pleasure in after all. But I have to say, seeing you like this?” He released an elongated, low whistle. “Schön. Keeping you has been worth it for moments like this. You really are a treat, behavioral issues and all.”

He exhaled as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving yours. “This is good, natural even. You belong here, (Name). Chained up like that… You’re right where you are supposed to be.”

His words were shaky, his composure slipping as his tongue trailed his bottom lip. The flush of his cheeks was now also creeping down his neck, ardent lust seeping from his expression. You shivered. Were it not for these bars separating you, you loathed to think what atrocities he would commit against you in this amped up state.

You bit back the retort that threatened to spill from your quivering jaw, biting so hard on your bottom lip you tasted blood. You hated him, loathed him with your entirety, but you also understood that one misspoken word was all it would take for you to be swapped with whatever unfortunate soul was tied to that pole. Despite it all, you still wanted to live. Clinging to the hope that someday you would get the chance to leave this place behind and return to the life that was stolen from you.

Making your freedom a reality was your daily affirmation you repeated to yourself, the one thing that truly kept you going. You made a promise to yourself that Strade would someday turn into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, a dirty smear in your past, and you very much intended to keep that promise. You would someday live out the rest of your life happy and safe, surrounded by friends and family, people you loved and who would love you in turn. Maybe you would even get married, have a kid or two.

Part of you knew thinking that way was foolish, and it usually caused you more despair than bringing you any true peace. But even if it was a silly dream, it was all you had. Strade has already stolen everything else, so you clung to your dream as your only salvation, relying on it as a means of survival.  

You had to make it through this, you had to get away and rebuild yourself from the shattered pieces Strade had broken you into. Not just for yourself, but for everyone he had ever murdered and brutalized. It was the only way you could beat him. It was the only way you could win.

“Well, no point in making any of us wait any longer,” Strade announced as he turned on his heel, making his way over to the slumped form in the center of the room. Your heart went out to them as he directed his full attention their way, staring down at them with a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. “This is pretty new for me too, ya know? Usually this is ‘me’ time, moments I can work and enjoy myself with the new friends I bring in in peace. But having a live audience? That’s sure gonna add some thrill to this.”

He turned his attention back towards you and Ren, his face glowing in excitement. “And I figured what the hell! It’s Christmas, right? Why be greedy when I can share in the celebration!  Ren already loves watching my little home movies, so I thought, ‘why not do a special live performance for my two favorite individuals?’”

Your body lurched in horror as Strade abruptly kicked his hostage square in the stomach, the force of it waking them with an agonized groan. You gasped as they coughed in pain, spit and blood sputtering from their mouth as slowly they came to. You watched on in morbid silence, a frown spreading across your lips when as you noticed the dawning horror that came over them. They were no longer in an ignorant fog of sleep, fully aware now that something truly dreadful was about to happen to them. 

Terrified recognition filled their eyes when they landed on Strade. Instantly they started to cry, whimper and plead, leaving you to wonder just how badly things went down between the two of them before you all ended up down here.

Trembles wracked your body, each quiver faintly clanging the metal of your collar against the cage. How you yearned to deafen your ears, gouge out your eyes, or will yourself away from what was unfolding before you. The mere thought of witnessing the oncoming torture, reliving your own capture through this doomed sod…  it was all too much. If given the opportunity, you would have done anything to flee and hide.

But there was no running from this. You couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t do anything at all.

“Hey buddy, calm down!” Strade spoke in a light hearted manner, invading the captive’s personal space as he crouched down in front of them. “Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Since you were looking so sad all alone at that bar last night I decided to play the role of Santa and give you a little gift! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, because no one deserves to be alone on the holiday, right? And look,” He roughly grabbed their chin, forcing their tear stained face towards your cage, “I even brought friends to assure you wouldn’t be lonely! Pretty thoughtful of me, huh?”

You averted your stare as soon as they made eye contact, unable to stand the sheer hopelessness reflected in their forlorn gaze. Their whimpering and pleading continued, unfettered by the dialogue Strade was droning on. The desperation in their voice as they tried to reason with the most unreasonable man on the planet was making your skin crawl, irritation setting your face into a scowl. Couldn’t they see how amped up Strade was? Were they really so deluded to think their incessant begging would do them any favors? Did they not realize their cries were just exciting him more?

Eventually, you squeezed your eyes closed, wanting a break from it all even for a few seconds. Their naivety was driving you insane- a cruel reminder of the person you once were.

Suddenly, an ear splitting scream pieced the air, causing your eyes to fly open. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you saw Strade’s signature knife protruding from the captive’s leg, his hand still wrapped firmly around the handle, wriggling it further into their meat. The blade was buried deep, deep enough to cause true damage, and the blood that gushed from the new wound quickly gathered in a morbid puddle beneath their legs. If left unattended, you were sure they may bleed out, dying in slow agony.

“Oops, maybe I went a bit too deep there,” Strade nonchalantly spoke, pulling the knife carelessly from their leg. They released another sharp cry at the blades exit, squirming in pain and misery as blood sputtered from the gash. Strade continued to speak, unfettered by the gore that splashed against his leg, “But you weren’t listening very well when I was trying to talk earlier, so hopefully that’ll help you focus. I’ll try and be more mindful though, don’t wanna do too much too soon. You’re the star of the show today buddy, can’t have you dipping out on us before we even get started.”

Strade cut a piece of fabric from their victim’s shirt, tying it sloppily around the gaping wound he inflicted. It wasn’t placed as a means to help them so much as a way to help staunch the bleeding to keep them lucid for as long as possible. If there was one thing Strade hated, it was his fun being prematurely cut short.

“Well,” Strade slapped his knees, lifting himself up to his full height, “Usually I like to get to know you a little better before we get to this point, but what with my special guests and all, we don’t have as much time as I would have liked to become acquainted.”

Your eyes trailed Strade as he walked over to a tripod sitting off to the side. Your eyes widened as he reached for it, setting it up with skilled expertise as he had done so many times before. His captive stared blankly at the camera, clearly confused as to what awaited them. You couldn’t decide if their ignorance was a tragedy or a godsend. If they knew this was their final moment of relative peace before their violent end… Would they try an appreciate it, or would that just bring them more dismay?

After the main camera was set up to his liking, he made his way towards you and Ren. You stiffened at he approached, a new spike of anxiety rising within you as he fiddled with something in his pocket. It was your turn for confusion now, staring in perplexion as he pulled out another small camera, setting it up so that it faced your cage. After some finagling to get it just right, the small red light on it turned green.

“There we go,” Strade smiled, tying his signature bandana around his mouth after he completed his setup, his wide eyes gleaming with cruel intent, “Figured the viewers at home deserved a little special something, too. Smile for the camera you two!”

Shame flushed your exposed body as you did all you could to avoid looking into the camera’s nebulous, black lens. You curled yourself up as much as physically possible, revolted by the realization that other sickos were tuning in, getting off to an impending murder and your humiliation. How many people were on the other side of that small orb, desperately waiting for Strade to begin so they could scratch their fucked up itch? How many pairs of eyes were roving over your barely clothed, bloody body right now, pleased for such an enticing appetizer before they dug into the main course? You didn’t know what disgusted you more, Strade himself or the fact that he had enough ‘fans’ out there that were of a similar mindset, who avidly watched and supported him enough that he could live comfortably off live-streaming his slaughters.

After some brief adjustments (apparently your camera wasn’t focused enough, the ‘fans’ were complaining about not having a clear shot of ‘the bitch’s stupid, sniveling face’), Strade eventually made his way back over to the main camera, flicking it on and checking the feed on a nearby laptop to make sure everything was looking as it should. Once he was satisfied, he hopped in front of the camera, the jovial smile on his face noticeable even behind his mask.

“Frohe Weihnachten an alle! Oh wait,” he fished around in a drawer beneath his laptop, eventually yielding a slightly wrinkled Santa’s hat that he plopped gleefully upon his head. “That’s better! How is everyone doing this fine, festive holiday?”

Strade’s eyes scanned over the chat, laughing here and there as he read peoples responses. “I see you all noticed the new edition to the party. Ren, (Name), why don’t you give the nice people watching at home a smile?”

Refusing to acknowledge his deluded request, you kept your eyes to the floor, focusing on anything else but the situation you were in. Your legs ached from your balancing act, the impression of the cold cage bars long since deeply engraved in your skin. You grimaced when you tried to reposition them, the bastard could have at least thrown a towel in here for you.

Strade responded to a few more ‘questions’ before releasing a low whistle. “Hey now,” he chided, his voice holding a warning edge to it “I’m happy to share my cute pets with you, but some things only I get to see, yeah? Get your minds out of the gutter, the requests for the day aren’t for them, they’re for our latest catch.”

Strade scratched the back of his head, looking towards you with an amused twinkle in his eye.  “I think you two may be a bigger hit then our new friend! A little rude to our guest, but I can’t say I blame the masses.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “But enough talk. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

He made his way over to his tool wall, his finger trailing the varying allotment of devices he owned. He stopped briefly, looking back towards the camera with lidded eyes. “So what are you guys feeling? Should we bust out our old friend the drill, or maybe something a bit more colorful, like the new handsaw I purchased the other day?”

The captive began to struggle with renewed intensity against their binds, thrashing about in a final attempt of escape. Their cries for help turned into wailing screeches, screaming and cursing as loud as they could muster in the hope that someone would magically hear them and come to their rescue. You hissed under your breath angrily, wishing they had never been caught, wishing they could spend Christmas with their family, wishing they would just shut up, wishing this would all end.

“Ohhh, we got a lively one~” Strade purred, grabbing a tomahawk off a nearby hook as he eyed chat, “and I agree with the majority here, it’s best to start off slow. Let’s begin with some little stuff and work up to the main event, really taking our time to enjoy this wonderful moment together.” He eyed the tool in his hand, picking at a remainder of a price tag that stuck stubbornly to the handle. “You may not believe me, but I only purchased this little guy to help with some pesky overgrowth in my yard, not to use on my company. Guess it can’t hurt to test out its sharpness and strength beforehand though, can it?”

Your heart palpitated as Strade stalked his way over to his cornered victim, mutely praying that some act of god would occur that would keep them from being decimated. He towered over them, thoughtfully musing on where he wanted to begin, what part of their body he wanted to mutilate first. He absent mindedly tossed the tomahawk from one hand to the next as he considered his plan of attack, sizing up his prey as if they were nothing more than a slab of meat. You struggled briefly against your binding in last ditch effort to shield yourself you from the ‘show’. But like a cruel child jabbing their fingers into you when you weren’t paying them enough attention to them, the spikes gave you a torturous reminder of the position you had been assigned to play in this performance.

Oddly enough, the stab of the protrusions didn’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. Maybe your body was adapting to the cruelties Strade subjugated it to, or maybe you were finally becoming desensitized to everything you had been forced to experience.  Maybe someday it would get to the point where you could be completely unfeeling, like a robot just going through the motions as Strade lived out his wicked life, you forcefully in tow. It was almost a comforting thought, whatever adjustments your body and soul had to make to assure your continued survival, so be it.

However, if the pit forming in your stomach and sweat drenching your brow as you watched Strade inch closure and closure to his victim was any indicator, you were sure something inside of you would always hold on to amity, reminding you just how painfully human you were, heart-breaking empathy and all.

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,’ you chanted in your head, fresh tears carving slick trails down your cheeks when Strade kick their leg, digging the heel of their boot harshly into their stab wound. Bright red bloomed around the fabric covering the wound, their screams growing gravelly the longer they strained their vocal cords. You did your best to hold back the worst of your sobs, rogue sniffles and hiccups escaping despite your best efforts. If there was an afterlife, you hoped that theirs was full of nothing but warmth, peace, and all the things they love. It was the least they deserved for this.

You were vaguely aware of Ren repositioning himself next to you, his head nestling against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, shielding you slightly in an almost protective manner. Pressed so close, you could feel that he was shivering, his heart beating a mile a minute as it thrummed against your skin. Whether it was from fear, excitement, or both, you were unable to say.

Strade turned around, giving you one last mirthful glance as he readied his tomahawk over the toes of his captive’s right foot.  Though they squirmed intensely, he held a death grip on the limb, keeping them from breaking free. “Make sure to pay close attention now,” desire radiated from his demeanor, voice husky as narrowed eyes briefly roved your restrained form “and don’t feel too neglected over there, I’ll make sure to save some of the fun juuust for you once I finish with our pal over here.”

His eyes darted to the camera, shooting it a look of mock sympathy “For my eyes only of course, you all understand right? Thank you for being here friends, and Frohe Weihnachten für mich!~”

He slammed the blade down. A blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the room as their toes disconnected from the rest of their foot, signaling the beginning of their end.

And you sat like a statue, cold and rigid as your unwilling eyes bore witness to each act of savagery.

[reds-ultrakill-brainrot]

May I request romantic headcanons for Minos Prime? 🥺

But Whose Heart Would Not Take Flight

minos prime romantic relationship headcanons

x reader content (intended romantic)

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- Minos is well aquainted with love and how those affected by it act, i think the last person he expected to have romantic feelings was himself - unlike others, he is very accepting of his own feelings. he has lived too long to spend time worrying himself over feelings such as these, he is in the mindset that he would appreciate the feelings being reciprocated, but he is mature enough to set them aside in favour of a friendship with you - he would confess his feelings towards you quite quickly, though he would make sure to do in a private space where the both of you can talk at length about such a sensitive topic - finding that you reciprocate his feelings honestly comes at a suprise, he was concerned that he was misinterpreting your behavior. he would be overjoyed, but don't expect any immediate displays of affection - he is quite old fashioned in terms of going about a romantic relationship, he will take time to court you and bring you gifts. if you reciprocate this behaviour he would be very pleased, openly displaying any gifts you share with him - he is quite the smooth talker, expect him to fluster you often. you expect that it has become a game at one point, not that he would ever admit to it (it most definately is a game, he's taken note of every comment that has caused a strong reaciton). if you turn the tables and flirt with him it would most definately take him off guard, though he is not one to be flustered. it would take an especially foward comment to cause him to falter - public displays of affection aren't his forte, he prefers to share his love for you in private. a small part if himself is also concerned over your wellbeing, he has a number of enemies and while few could best a being such as him in battle, if they knew of a person so close to him they surely would take advantage of that. he has already lost a love before his ascension to the King of Lust, he will do whatever it takes to ensure this does not happen again - he trusts that you entered this relationship for a reason and as such does not get jealous around others. if you openly flirted with others he would express his disapproval in private, asking you not to repeat this or if you wanted to pursue someone else that he would prefer you to make him aware beforehand (poly headcannon? perhaps) - dates with Minos would not be particularly common, unfortunately his role keeps him busy. a significant portion of your time togther would have to include his duties in some form, he would invite you to join him on any outings he needs to attend to, but it would be with the caviat that you refrain from distracting him - when you are able to go out together he would prefer dates where the both of you are able to do more mundane/less exciting things together, think cooking (not that he needs to eat), reading poetry together and sightseeing. i do not particularly take him as someone who enjoys more adrenaline junkie activities, but if you are more partial to exciting dates im sure he can accommodate every once and a while - his love language would most definately be quality time, with words of affirmation following soon after. he feels most comfortable knowing you are nearby and hearing you verbalise your affection - is not particularly fond of most pet names, he finds you name to be part of what he loves about you, seeing or hearing it always fills him with a small sense of joy. on the odd chance he does use one, it will most likely be 'darling' or 'my love' - while he will never let them stray far, he will let you hold his snakes. they aren't particularly affectionate but Minos finds you holding them a pleasant sight - arguments with him are delt with as soon as possible, he will strive to be as respectful as possible as he doesn't wish to let any resentment fester, and even if there is not a clear conclusion he will respect your opinion. that being said, do not expect him to be any easy person to convince, he is exceptionally strong willed and holds his values strongly

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i really enjoyed writing this post and i hope that the results speak for themselves. many thanks for the recent influx of requests, i am excited to get started on them! thank you for reading and i hope you have a good day

[maxwellwillowswriting]

Worshiped Chapter One

2025

Caroline knew what it was like to be worshiped. To have the ground beneath her feet seen as holy; for her gaze to make someone’s day. Her exhales felt like she was breathing life into the universe itself. She’d never really considered herself a religious woman, but that was before Caroline knew what it was like to be the God people followed. It felt like liquid gold flowing through her veins. Though it was painful, boiling her blood and melting through her skin- it was also precious. It hurt to feel, but Caroline was scared that it would be more painful to lose.

Curled into her side and completely unaware of her plight, Caroline’s girlfriend, Blair, shifted in her sleep. Blair’s red hair was sprawled out, tickling Caroline’s chin. Slowly, to avoid waking her, Caroline moved her hand to Blair’s arm. She brushed her thumb over the waxy skin. The scar on Blair’s arm was nasty, but it was almost never covered up. A beacon of protection for the two of them and a reminder of the best day of Caroline’s life, Caroline couldn’t bring herself to regret letting it scar so badly. 

It didn’t take long for the pleasant thought to turn sour, images of Blair getting hurt or being put in danger because of her filling Caroline’s mind. With her brain running at a speed too fast for her lack of sleep, Caroline tried to focus on something else that was more simple.

 Sometimes it felt like if she let her thoughts spiral, Caroline’s brain would kill her before anything else could. A random and unexplained aneurysm would come out of nowhere, because her brain was moving too fast or she got too fixated on something. Of course she knew that was impossible, having a basic understanding of anatomy from devouring every medical journal she could get her hands on from the age of ten. Still, even with the knowledge that it was unlikely, the anxiety stayed curled in her gut.

She distracted herself by counting. The number of rocks under her sleeping bag, how many of Blair’s freezing toes were against her legs, and how many times the tree knocked into the shed they were huddled up in. Six, three, and twelve in the two hours Caroline bothered counting before admitting to herself that she wasn’t going to be sleeping. 

Gently untangling her limbs from Blair’s, Caroline made herself busy by making sure her girlfriend was comfortable. She tightened bandages, piled on blankets, and fluffed pillows. Lowering herself to sit against the wall, Caroline let herself just look at the sleeping ginger. 

Blair was beautiful. With puffy lips and an upturned nose, she looked soft and kind. When her green eyes were open, they almost danced with joy. The freckles that dotted every inch of her skin had somewhat faded in the winter, but they were still fairly obvious. She had been breathtaking the day they met, and even more so the day Blair pledged her life to Caroline. 

The image was still burned into her memory. Every time Caroline closed her eyes, Blair was on one knee and looking up at her with stars in her eyes shining behind the starvation and mania. At the time it had felt utterly romantic, if a little unsettling under it all. Blair had said that Caroline was her everything, and that she would protect her no matter the cost. Then, it almost sounded like wedding vows. Looking back, the image made Caroline’s skin grow even colder. 

It was almost a game to her with everyone else, their eyes clouded with obedience and desperation as they promised her their lives. When Blair had done it, looking up at Caroline through her thick blonde lashes and swearing to protect her with her life, all Caroline could see was the devotion in her eyes. No longer was their situation laughable, Caroline felt herself become someone who’s protection was worth losing someone she loved. 

She wished that she could blame it all on the cult mindset. Put it all in the same box the rest of those  ten months were in; hidden deep in her mind where she could forget about it sometimes. It was a reasonable explanation. Despite her cutting intellect and iron will- Caroline had been sucked in. She let herself believe in what the cult was saying too soon and for too long. It wasn’t unbelievable that they had gotten to Blair too, convincing her to do and say things she wouldn’t normally.

What tore through Caroline’s chest, making her want to kiss Blair for hours and to bash her head in at the same time most days, was that it wasn’t just them. Even when she and Blair were well fed and free, she could still see the same determination behind Blair’s eyes. It had been over a year, but every time that Blair threw herself into harm's way to protect Caroline or risked anything she had to keep her safe- Caroline saw the same girl who had promised to both live and die for her. They hadn’t corrupted Blair, instead showing her what she already was. The idea was terrifying. 

Above all else, Caroline was a realist. While loving Blair came as easily as breathing to her, her own survival came first. If it really came down to it and Caroline had to choose between saving herself and saving Blair, there was no doubt in her mind that she would choose herself. No matter how deeply she cared about Blair, no matter how much her heart swelled with love for the other girl every time she so much as smiled, Caroline was sure she’d never love Blair in the same way Blair loved her.

A noise from the bed startled Caroline out of her thoughts. A high pitched whine came from Blair’s sleeping form. When she looked closer, Caroline could see the pinched expression on her girlfriend’s face. She tossed and turned, hands absent-mindedly searching for Caroline. Her breathing got more frantic, and as soon as Caroline reached out to comfort her, Blair shot up with a blood curdling scream. Blair looked at the girl she’d lost in her nightmare while Caroline was face to face with the eyes that were keeping her awake. 

Before she could say anything, Blair buried her face into Caroline’s chest. Despite her efforts to stop, she was shaking like a leaf. Thin arms wrapped around her in stiff and calculated movements, holding Blair just enough for her to feel a little bit of pressure. 

It took a few minutes for Blair to calm herself down, her breathing slowly returning to normal and heartbeat slowing down. She was still grasping onto Caroline, and it took her a moment to detach her fingers. She pulled back slowly, moving to hold only Caroline’s hand. The blonde visibly and obviously relaxed at the familiar feeling of their fingers being interlocked. 

With a shaky breath, Blair realized that she was going to have to be the one to break the silence between them. Caroline did her best to school her face into an understanding expression, but she wasn’t sure if she hit the mark. Part of her envied the girl across from her for always knowing how to comfort her. Caroline was a genius, one of the only people alive on her level, and she didn’t even know how to be there for the love of her life after a bad dream. 

“Sorry about that.” Blair wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “I haven’t had a nightmare in a while.” She said. 

Blair was lying, Caroline knew it. She attempted to say something, but the words didn’t come out on her first try. Clearing her throat, Caroline tried again. “You know you can talk to me about this kind of stuff, right?”

Averting her gaze, Blair squeezed her girlfriend's hand. “Of course, Carrie. It was just a nightmare, everyone gets those. My mind was being a little finicky, that’s all.” She tried to brush her off. 

“What was it about?” As if Caroline had to ask. They both knew it was about their time spent at ‘The Alliance’. With literal zombies walking the Earth, nothing had been more unsettling than the months spent with those people. 

As expected, Blair didn’t tell her the truth. “It was about Richie, that’s all.” She bluffed. Richie had died in a raid a few weeks previously. Caroline assumed that Blair was trying to manipulate her into not saying anything by bringing up such a touchy subject. If she was wrong in her assumption (she knew she wasn’t), she would be a terrible person for calling Blair out.

“Why are you lying to me?” She was hurt, but Caroline’s voice came out more demanding than wilted. Her tone was dangerously familiar to the both of them, but neither seemed to notice or care  in the moment. 

Feeling her muscles start to tense, Blair shook her head, “I’m not lying!” Caroline had to bite her lip to keep herself from snapping. 

Instead, she pulled Blair close and rested their foreheads together. Blair closed the distance between them, kissing Caroline. Her girlfriend was receptive, if a little confused, wrapping her arms around Blair’s waist while her own hands found purchase around Caroline’s neck. 

Blair’s lips were warm and a little chapped from the cold and dry air outside. Her hands, which moved to cradle Caroline’s face and brush away any tears threatening to fall, were strong and comforting. When she finally pulled back, Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat. She coughed into her arm awkwardly, but didn’t look away from Blair. “I love you.” She said. 

“I love you too.” Blair said back- without a second of hesitation. Nothing in her expression flickered, and nothing changed with the response. 

“Then I need you to make me a promise.” 

“Anything.” Blair’s eyes almost glowed with intensity.

Caroline let out a shaky breath, “When it comes down to it,” because there was no ‘if’ anymore in the world they lived in, “I need you to know when to leave. If it's a bite that does it, go before I turn. If we’re in a situation, save yourself first.” 

It was silent for a long moment before Blair spoke again. Her face was suddenly guarded, but Caroline could feel the hurt radiating off of her girlfriend. Blair was deathly still, even her breathing stiff. When she spoke, her voice was strained and terrified. “No.” She shook her head, “I can’t.” She croaked. 

Caroline shook her head, “You can.” She made Blair look at her, and didn’t speak again until the girl was looking directly into her brown eyes. “It’s human nature. It doesn’t make you bad to protect yourself. I want you to protect yourself.” Caroline begged. 

She tried to think of a way to make her girlfriend understand. “Would you want me to die for you?” She asked. For a moment, Caroline was afraid that Blair would say yes. She had no idea what she would do then, if she was honest about who she was on the inside. Caroline wondered if Blair would leave her if she knew. It was a doubt she had never felt before, and it was more scary than zombies, or cults, or whatever the government wanted with her. 

Just as she expected, though, Blair shook her head. “Of course not. You’re the important one.”

 “You’re important, baby.” Caroline couldn’t stand the way her voice cracked. Blair shook her head, the wetness in her eyes threatening to spill over.

When Caroline reached out to comfort her, she turned her head away. “You don’t get it, Carrie.” Her voice was slow and tired, as if she was repeating a lecture to a child that refused to learn. The latter part was accurate, at least. “You might save the world. Your mind is stunning, and you’re going to do something with it! If it’s a cure, if it’s a power source, or even if  it’s just remembering how to avoid a vein when Annie comes back from a raid injured . That’s more important than any of us. Even before-” her breath hitched and turned into an ugly sob, but she forced herself to continue, “Even before The Alliance,” Caroline flinched at the name, “I knew that I might die protecting you. I didn’t care. From the moment I met you, I’ve known how this might end. I don’t care, Caroline.” Blair grabbed her shoulders, “If it comes down to me or you- it’s you. It’s always going to be you. You can't change my mind.” Caroline swore that she could feel her heart shatter. 

She let her soul bury itself back in the depths of her mind- and became the same bitter person she had been in the days after her dad died. Without emotions getting in her way, she was convinced that she’d be able to look at the situation logically. She was wrong.

It still didn’t make sense to Caroline. She didn’t know how to change her girlfriend’s mind, and with everything else locked in the back of her mind- all she could feel was anger. It had been a long time since she had let the emotion overtake her, not wanting to ever see the fearful look on Blair’s face when she lost control. Now, though, she didn’t care. 

She ripped herself out of Blair’s arms, standing up. She brushed the dirt off of her pants and walked to the door, moving everything they had used to keep themselves safe. 

“What are you doing?” Blair asked, pulling herself up and walking over to try and smooth things over. 

Caroline made a show of not listening to her, so Blair grabbed her arm. Caroline jerked away, “Don’t touch me.” She seethed. 

“You can’t seriously be mad at me for saying I’m not going to leave you to die!” Blair’s voice raised slightly. 

“No! I’m mad because you think that basically killing yourself is going to do anything to help me! I don’t want you to die, Blair! I can take care of myself.” She took a moment to really look at her girlfriend, who seemed to have so little faith in her. “If I’m being stupid enough to get myself into a dangerous situation with no way out, which is highly unlikely by the way, then maybe I deserve to die.” She spat, finally getting the door open. 

There was a small dusting of snow on the ground, the blades of grass breaking and crunching under her feet. Blair followed her outside, the skin on her bare arms breaking into goosebumps. “Caroline, you can’t be serious. A hoard just passed through, we don’t know how many are left.” 

Caroline shook her head, continuing to make her way to the house that Annabeth was in charge of. The risk was higher than she wanted to admit, but it was a place where she and Blair would have their own separate rooms if Blair followed her. 

They walked for a few minutes in tense silence, before Caroline turned to Blair. The girl’s teeth were chattering, her skin getting paler in the cold. If the whole fight hadn’t started because Caroline wanted her to live, she’d consider strangling her girlfriend. 

She stopped, turning to look at the ginger. “Are you seriously going to follow me all of the way there? You’re not even wearing a real shirt.” She pointed out. Blair crossed her arms, glaring at Caroline. Sometimes Caroline wished she hadn’t fallen in love with someone who was so stubborn. 

Taking a grounding deep breath, she turned to Blair. “I will give you five minutes to get your supplies and meet me back here. After that, I’m going without you.” With the way the girl’s eyes lit up, Caroline felt the need to clarify her offer, “I’m only doing this because I don’t want you freezing to death. I’m still pissed off.” She bit. 

It took three hundred and four seconds for Blair to make her way back. Caroline didn’t point out the difference, not wanting her to know she had waited longer than she said. Instead they walked in tense silence. 

It was going to be a long walk.

[bellakitse]

The 'B' Word

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion."

+

Carlos and TK run into Carlos’ three sisters on the street and decide to have dinner with them. Over the course of the meal, their friends with benefits relationship changes.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 1: Romance/“You are the only one for me.”/Fluff

Carlos holds the door for TK to walk through, trying to keep his grin at bay in the face of TK’s epic pout. He’d suggested a night of putt-putt, thinking it would be a friendly and easygoing activity they could enjoy as they try to put more emphasis on the friends part of their unconventional relationship. It was supposed to be a casual night out. However, Carlos didn’t anticipate that TK would be horrible at the game or be such a lovable sore loser.

“You cheated,” TK accuses him, the scowl on his handsome face cuter than it has any right to be. Carlos swallows back a sigh at the thought. It’s moments like this that show him how truly head over heels he is for the man before him.

He pushes that thought down too.

TK has made it more than clear he’s not ready for more than what they are right now – friends who enjoy each other’s company in and out of the bedroom.

He tells himself how he always does when these thoughts start to creep in that it’s enough for now. He gets to spend time with TK; he gets to touch him, hear the soft sounds he makes when they’re together, he gets his smiles.

So what if they don’t have a label?

Having some parts of TK Strand, Carlos has quickly learned, is infinitely better than not having him at all.

“At putt-putt?” he questions with an amused grin pushing away his less than pleasant thoughts. “You think I cheated at putt-putt?”

“Yes,” TK shoots back, his expression set in a childish frown, causing Carlos’ grin to grow.

“How exactly?” he questions, outright smirking when TK stalls, his pout growing as he can’t come up with anything.

“You distracted me with your you-ness,” TK finally answers, waving a hand in his direction as if it explains everything.

Carlos feels his face go warm, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly smug too. He reaches out, slipping a finger through one of the loops of TK’s jeans, pleased when TK comes into his space easily, his arms going around Carlos’ neck as he holds him close.

“That’s an interesting way to say you think I’m hot, sweetheart,” he murmurs teasingly as he presses his nose against TK’s temple.

“You already know I think that,” TK scoffs at him, turning his head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his tongue peeking out in a tiny teasing lick. “Don’t pretend now.”

Carlos lets out a steadying breath as his body instantly reacts to TK’s goading. “I still like to hear it,” he answers with a playful pout of his own, happy when it makes TK chuckle.

TK brings his hands down, cupping Carlos’ face between them, using the leverage to close the tiny height difference between them as he brushes his lips against his. “Needy,” he whispers, the word spoken against Carlos’ mouth causing him to let out a moan, proving TK’s point.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispers back, his hands giving TK’s hips a suggestive squeeze.

TK laughs softly as he shakes his head. “You promised me dinner.”

“I’ll make us something when we get there,” he promises now, groaning when TK shakes his head again.

“You and I both know – if we get behind closed doors, we’re not eating anything but each other, Reyes,” TK tells him, smirking shamelessly when he gasps at his words. “I want real food first.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, willing down the blush on his face and the arousal coursing through him at the mental image TK’s words have provoked.

TK goes to take a step away from him, ready to start walking on their quest to find some food, but Carlos holds on to him, grinning back at him when it makes TK raise a brow in question. He doesn’t answer with words; instead, he cups TK’s face like he’d done to him, swallowing the small gasp he lets out with his lips.

He kisses TK thoroughly, taking his time as he feels TK’s body go lax against his, kissing him back lazily, pressing his tongue against the back of Carlos’ teeth in a way that makes his toes curl from the butterflies he feels in his stomach.

Carlos could get lost in the act of kissing TK Strand and often does, like now, which is probably why he doesn’t realize people have walked up to them until there is a loud and obvious clearing of someone’s throat startling the two of them.

“What – “ TK starts to say, sounding dazed, and Carlos would take a moment to be proud of that if it wasn’t for the horror he’s experiencing in the face of his three older sisters standing before them, grinning like deranged clowns.

“Well, well, well,” Lola starts, like the rabble-rouser she is, her grin looking painful from how big it is. “Look who we have here being all indecent in public? Isn’t there laws against practically having sex in public spaces, Officer Reyes?”

“Would he have to arrest himself?” Valentina asks ironically – the oldest but by no means the most mature – piling on with a smirk of her own.

Sofía, the second oldest and usually the quietest, smiles softly at him, almost sympathetic if it wasn’t for the laughing glint in her eyes. “How much do you wish the ground would swallow you up right now, manito?”

“Very much so,” he grits out with a tight smile as their enjoyment of the situation grows. He feels TK’s body shift next to him a second before his hand touches Carlos’, linking their pinkies together. He turns his head, surprised at the gesture, and finds TK looking a little lost but supportive of him. It loosens something in his stomach, and as TK gives him a half-smile, Carlos is helpless but to return it. “TK, these are my sisters, Valentina, Sofía, and Lola,” he says, pointing at each of them in turn, getting a wave back from all three. “Girls, this is TK,” he continues, not adding anything else though he can see the curiosity in his sisters’ eyes. “Anyway, we were going to go grab a bite to eat, so – “

“What a coincidence, so are we!” Lola exclaims happily, her brown eyes twinkling, and Carlos shakes his head, already seeing where she’s going with this.

“We should all get a bite together,” Valetina continues, and Carlos has to stifle the groan that is dying to come out at the tag-teaming happening before him.

“We barely get to see you, hermanito,” Sofía adds on with a sad face that fools no one.

“We saw each other two weeks ago at Mami’s for Sunday lunch,” he points out, rolling his eyes when the three of them shrug their shoulders in unison.

“Way too long, bro,” Lola answers, getting a nod from their other two sisters. “And we’re obviously not sharing enough if none of us knew you have a boyfri – “

“Okay!” Carlos interrupts before she can finish the dreaded ‘B’ word. The last thing he needs is his meddling sisters spooking TK with that title. He looks at him with an apologetic look on his face, hoping he understands. “Do you mind if they join us?”

TK looks at him for a moment and then at his sisters, a sly grin making its way onto his face that fills Carlos with dread. “That depends,” he starts, raising an eyebrow at the girls. “How many ‘baby Carlos’ stories can I get out of this meal?”

Carlos lets out that groan he’s been holding back as his older sisters all smile at TK like he’s a new shiny toy.

Being the boldest one of his sisters, Lola steps towards TK, slipping her arm through his. “All the stories you want, my dude. Let’s start with the one where Carlos would play Selena’s ‘bidi bidi bom bom’ on repeat and do her spins in the living room until one time he almost threw up on the carpet from twirling so much,” she recounts, throwing a grin at him over her shoulder as she and TK start walking ahead.

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, opening them again when he hears snickering at his side. He glares at Valentina and Sofía and their matching grins.

“We better catch up to them before she tells him that you can’t get through a single Disney or Pixar movie without crying like a baby, and that’s why you don’t watch them in the theater anymore,” Valentina warns him, laughing at him when his eyes widen.

He doesn’t move for a moment, letting them pass before him. TK throws a look back at him, half-worried but also gleeful as Lola says God only knows what in his ear, and Carlos can’t help the mixture of apprehension and tentative joy he feels at his worlds colliding.

“Keep up, manito, before we steal your boy away,” Lola shouts out, already crossing the street with TK still wrapped around her arm.

“Shit,” Carlos swears low before rushing to catch up.

 ֎֎֎

 They end up at some hipster tapas restaurant. It’s not his usual style, but his sisters and TK seem to like it as they all pick from the multiple small plates at their large table. The girls each have a wine glass in their hands and blessedly don’t blink an eye when TK says he doesn’t drink and orders an ice tea.

He sits next to TK, with his sisters on the other side of the table, watching the two of them like they’re putting on a show for their enjoyment. He glares at them, hoping they’ll cut it out, but they seem to just find his scowls enjoyable – ignoring him in favor of focusing on TK.

“So TK, how did you and our little brother meet?” Valentina asks, starting off the inquisition.

TK pauses mid-reach for the papas bravas at her question before grabbing the dish and scooping some onto his plate for him, giving him a smile when he says thank you. “Um, we met on a call,” he starts to say, taking the plate of garlic shrimp he offers him in return. “I’m a firefighter; we were answering a call to a car accident, and Carlos was the leading officer on the scene.”

“Ohh, a firefighter, nice,” Lola says, throwing him a teasing look. Carlos is grateful for it as it makes TK laugh, and he misses the pointed look his other sisters give him at the way he and TK interact so easily.

He knows they are dying to ask.

“How did you snag such a hottie, Carlitos?” Lola continues, turning her teasing towards him.

Carlos rolls his eyes; used to his sister’s good-natured ribbing, he opens his mouth to mess with her, only for TK to let out a snort.

“Well, first, look at him,” TK answers for him, turning to look at him with a teasing but soft look of his own, a sweet smile playing on his lips. “He’s gorgeous.”

Carlos feels his heart jump at the easy way TK compliments him, not shy in the least as it makes his sisters share another round of looks that this time TK catches.

“It seems to be a family trait. You’re all very beautiful,” he says to them with a charming smile that has Carlos groaning and laughing at once as it totally works on all three of them.

“Don’t butter them up,” he complains as he sees the twinkle in all their eyes. “They’re already insufferable all on their own. If you hype them up, they’ll just be impossible.”

“It’s not hype if it’s true,” Sofía says with a flick of her curly hair, getting a nod from Valentina and Lola.

“That’s right, wey,” Valentina continues, grinning at the face he makes at them. “Listen to your boyfriend; we’re beautiful.”

Carlos freezes at the word boyfriend, but TK just laughs with the girls, moving the conversation along as he asks more about Carlos’ childhood. He leans in, listening intently as the girls share embarrassing but honestly sweet stories about him. Each looking at him with the great love he knows they feel for him.

TK hangs on to every word, smiling softly over at him every few minutes as he files away information – like his love for anything custard and his intense fear of cicadas.

“One time when I was 15, this kid in the neighborhood was picking on me,” Valentina tells the story, sharing smiles with Lola and Sofía as they start to chuckle, remembering the moment.

“We were all playing outside, and he came over and started making fun of my glasses or clothes. I don’t even remember, but I was on the verge of tears when Carlos, who had been playing with his action figures on the porch, comes running and kicks him as hard as he can on the shins, surprising the kid. He tripped, and Carlos jumped on him, hitting him with his tiny fists, screaming at him not to be mean to his sister,” Valentina pauses, looking over at him fondly. “I’m eight years older than Carlos, he was only seven at the time, but he was still protecting me.”

“Awww,” TK gushes, looking over at him with a tender glint in his pretty green eyes. “That’s so sweet and so in character.”

Carlos feels himself blush at the focus of everyone around the table, fidgeting as they all grin at him. “I protect the people I care about,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“I know,” TK answers softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Trust me, I know.”

Carlos stares at TK feeling a shift in the air, his silly heart giving a flip as hope starts to sneak its way inside it.

“What else?” TK questions, turning back towards his sisters but not letting go of his hand.

The girls share another look between them, and Carlos can only guess what they’re thinking before they jump into more stories.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and childhood anecdotes, and before Carlos knows it, they’re settling up the bill and walking out of the restaurant. They linger outside for a moment before, one by one, the girls hug TK first, telling him he needs to come to the next Reyes’ lunch and that their mother is going to fall in love with him. TK smiles through it, not making any promises other than checking his schedule with him. He forks over his phone easily when Lola asks to add him to WhatsApp with the promise of baby pictures of him, and Carlos just knows she’ll add TK to a group chat before the end of the night.

They turn to hug him, tight and warm as always, each whispering in his ear how much they like TK and how happy they are that he’s found someone who makes him smile the way he’s smiling. He hugs them back, all the while looking at TK over their shoulders, wondering what’s just happened in the course of the night.

He hails them a cab and reminds them to text him when they each get back to their homes, getting fond rolls of their eyes as they promise before getting into the cab, leaving him and TK alone with this sudden shift in their relationship.

Neither says anything for a moment, each knowing one of them needs to start.

“So,” he begins, biting the bullet. “I guess we should talk about tonight because I don’t know if you realize this, but my sisters just left with the impression we’re in a serious relationship, and that means I will have at least a dozen texts by morning from my mother.”

“Sure,” TK says, nodding quickly, nervous energy pouring out of him. “But first –“

TK takes a step into his space, and then another until his chest is pressed against his, and Carlos instinctively puts his hands on TK’s slim waist seconds before TK covers his mouth with his, in a hungry, almost desperate kiss. Carlos matches his energy, pouring all the love and longing coursing through him, claiming TK’s mouth the same way TK has claimed his heart.

He holds him so close he’s sure TK can feel the way his heart is pounding against his own.

“TK – “ he gasps out, his skin tingling at every point of contact. “What – “

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion. This was supposed to be simple. But every day, I fall for you a little bit more and more with your kindness, your patience, the way you make me laugh and smile even when I don’t want to.”

He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up, looking adorable even as his eyes have gone wild. “You weren’t the plan. You came into my life when I was at my worst, and for some reason, you still wanted to be around me, offering me the best of you, and I have been trying to ignore it because I thought it was too soon after my break-up or because deep down, I think you deserve better than me.”

“There is no one better than you,” he interrupts, needing TK to understand that once and for all. “You’re not perfect, TK, I know that,” he says, holding up a hand when TK goes to argue. “But there is no one better – you are the only one for me.”

TK lets out a gasp at his words, finally not moving about, coming to a stop, and Carlos takes the chance to touch him again, bringing him in closer as he cups his face, tilting it up to him.

“Your sisters looked at me tonight as someone worthy of you,” he whispers, his eyes going glassy. “I so want to be that. I want to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos smiles, feeling everything inside him melt for the man in his arms. “Oh, baby,” he whispers softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, and the tip of his nose before he brushes his lips against TK’s.  He pulls him into a hug when he feels him tremble. “Don’t you get it? You already are.”

“Carlos – “ TK gasps something like a sob into his neck.

He pulls him back, making sure he’s looking at him before he finally says the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I’m in love with you, TK.”

TK lets out a wet laugh, nodding rapidly as he grasps his shoulders. “I’m in love with you too,” he answers, smiling brightly, matching Carlos’ own smile.

The kiss they share is salty from their mixed tears but perfect.

Breaking the kiss, they press their foreheads together, basking in the moment and the change in their relationship. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever been happier, but after a moment, he finds himself letting out a groan as a realization creeps in.

“What is it?” TK questions him curiously.

“I just realized that if my sisters learn we weren’t official before we ran into them and that dinner with them helped in any way – I’m never going to hear the end of their mocking,” he answers, blinking in surprise when TK lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a deep belly laugh. It only grows as Carlos pouts at him in return.

“Not even five minutes of being boyfriends, and you’re laughing at my pain,” he says, trying to keep from smiling but being unable to do so at the use of the ‘B’ word and the way TK lights up at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

TK sobers at his words, the laughter dying out but the loving smile staying in place. “I am so lucky,” he says softly, taking his hand.

Carlos intertwines their fingers, bringing their hand up to his lips, laying a kiss over TK’s knuckles. “I’m lucky too.”

[applejuizz]

laughter of youth.

the scout regiment has managed to rescue eren and recover annie’s crystal from their enemies, yet at the cost of many soldiers’ lives. levi learns a valuable lesson of trust. characters: levi ackerman x gn! reader (platonic!), historia reiss, sasha braus, jean kirstein, mikasa ackerman, eren jaeger, connie springer warnings: canon violence (vague descriptions), mentions of blood/wounds word count: 1.764 inspired by attack on titan 2: final battle and the story of “our man”, the customizable in-game character.

Paperwork after paperwork after all the paperwork...

Levi had come to dread the sound of hasty footsteps pacing up to his wooden office door and its prolonged creak as Miss Four Eyes allowed themselves in carrying yet another pile of experiment reports, barely containing their unreasonable excitement. While they fervently sought the tiniest free space to fit the monstrosity held in their arms, their flow of Titan anatomy ramblings never ceased.

Levi, you won’t believe what Eren managed to do today...!

Victor - who the hell is Victor? - stood awake the whole night and was as energetic as ever in the morning! This new breed of Titans is quite interesting!

I keep naming these Titans and I won’t shut up already and I should slap myself before you kick me across the fields, Levi! - he couldn’t possibly describe the joy these words would bring him coming out of Hange’s mouth. Too good to be true, unfortunately.

He shifted into his chair, straightening his back and shaking off the annoyance that had been constantly pulling on his nerves for three days already.

Thankfully, his office was quiet and the hallway was blissfully empty. Hange had taken a day off from experiments to let Eren rest. On that note, Jean and Eren had stopped arguing for once, Sasha had ceased her relentless search of meat and he could finally relish in the silence surrounding him. It wasn’t often that he got to have such quiet moments to himself.

And because they were so rare, only when he got the chance to savor them did he realize how much he actually hated them.

It wasn’t that he disliked being alone - on the contrary, he loved solitude a little too much for his own good. Instead, he found that whenever he allowed his mind to rest, he was assaulted by intrusive thoughts and memories that he’d rather bury deep in the back of his consciousness. Perks of being a soldier.

His eyes took in rows and columns of observations on the papers in front of him. His hand signed each and every one of them away promptly, yet his mind was drifting, conjuring up crimson fields, disgusting Titan flesh sliced in half, the blood-curdling screams of soldiers trampled off their horses or chewed to their demise. Nothing he wasn’t used to. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t make his skin crawl sometimes.

He thought back to commander Erwin, weak and thinning, laying in a hospital bed with only an arm left. Levi knew his superior was a strong man; he didn’t worry much about his recovery. What did plant the seed of doubt in his heart was the fact that somehow, the man he’d thought nearly invincible had been so badly wounded, and that alone was a strong indicator of the deep shit they all were in.

And of course, the one member in his squad that had never returned from the battlefield hung dark and heavy over his consciousness, a shadow of guilt, the same damn story repeating itself over and over again. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, it came crawling back like an awful nightmare, looming over him along with the deaths of all the other people he has trusted and cared for. Isabel and Farlan, Petra, Eld, Günther, Oruo… and now them too.

I won’t die on you, sir!

Like hell you won’t.

Their promise rang in his ears as if trying to mock him. The shadows of his consciousness sneered at him: look what happens when you decide to trust people, you twerp. Should’ve known better. Haven’t you learned your lesson?

“Tsk.” He set the cup he’d mindlessly lifted back on his desk. The tea had gone cold. He’d have to ask someone to brew him another. Not exactly pleasant, but enough to distract him from the dark path his thoughts had gone onto.

Before he could even stand up from his chair, though, loud voices boomed from downstairs through the whole hideout and caused the floor beneath his feet to vibrate. They were followed by clattering of pots and Jaeger’s unmistakable yelling, obnoxious and over dramatic as always.

So much for his quiet moment.

With an exasperated sigh, Levi picked up his cup again and left his desk and the piles of papers behind, shaking off the last of his melancholy. These damn brats can’t get anything done without wrecking havoc first…

The kitchen was right beneath his office, so all he had to do was climb down the short flight of stairs, put the cadets back in their place, ask horseface to brew him some more tea and go back upstairs. Simple enough.

He came to the sight of Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha and Connie all hunched around in a compact group, chattering loudly and all over each other. Historia’s dulcet tone surprisingly prevailed amongst deeper voices, although she was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait! You need bandages before anything else! The gash in your side isn’t looking good…”

“Yeah! You’ve literally been through hell and back!” Jean marvelled.

“No, guys! They need food!” Sasha exclaimed as if she'd made a grand discovery, grabbing a half-boiled potato straight out of the pot.

“Sasha, no! The potatoes aren’t done yet-”

“Oi, what the hell is going on here?!”

“C-Captain Levi!” Jaeger stumbled back on his feet, broom in his hands, his headscarf sitting askew on his head. The huddle immediately dispersed, everyone had gone dead silent. Levi scanned the room quickly, not paying much attention to the soldiers’ faces and rolled his eyes.

“I thought I told you to clean up the kitchen, not turn it into a pigsty!” He passed a critical hand over the table, gathering up the dust in his palm and making a grimace. Cleaning supplies, pots and cups were scattered all over the floor and the table, as if the cadets had all come to a mutual agreement of dropping everything at once just to see how many white hairs Levi would gain in his hair.

“B-but-”

“Get back to work and stop yelping, you’re turning my brain into mush.”

But before he could open his mouth to bark another order at Jean, his eyes finally landed on who was once the centre of the huddle: Historia Reiss holding on to a hunched figure’s arm, obviously attempting to provide support, but ending up resembling more of a lost puppy clinging to someone’s sleeve.

“Captain Levi!” the petite girl exclaimed, a hint of relief present in her voice, “I-I went to get water from the fountain and I found them there! They seem stable, but I think they might need a doctor-”

His thoughts were running at light’s speed, yet he couldn’t get his body to wake up from its frozen state at the bottom of the stairs. What must’ve only been seconds felt like hours. As if time had decided to finally slow down, to finally stop the nonsensical blurry of days, months, years passing by only to give him a chance to breathe. A chance to understand. Was it just too good to be true?

“Captain…?” Springer trailed off, eyes bulging out of his little bald head, and quickly recoiled as Jean subtly elbowed him in the stomach. Only then did Levi notice that he had been standing among the shattered porcelain of what used to be his teacup, his hand still hanging in the air as if clinging to the ghost of the object.

The cadet finally raised their eyes from the floor, face bloodied and battered, yet still brightened by youth and devotion.

“Captain Levi… sir.” They saluted in a weak voice, raising two fingers to their temple.

Their last name rolled off Levi’s lips in a stronger tone than he thought he’d manage, yet still trailed off a bit in disbelief. Clearing his throat, he stepped over the broken porcelain.

“So. You came back, huh?” Out of all the words piled up on the tip of his tongue, begging to spill out, the best he could come up with was a rhetorical question. But the soldier still let out a dry chuckle, straightening their back as much as their wounds allowed them to. Their legs wobbled and the Ackerman girl, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, immediately jumped in to offer extra support. Seeing the usually stone-faced Mikasa’s facial expression filled with a flurry of emotions similar to those churning in his heart allowed him to relax a bit.

“Of course.” The wounded cadet answered. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Levi gave a slight nod, features stoic, yet he felt his heart grow with pride in his chest. The same glint of determination glowed in their eyes as it did back then, during their rookie days, when they had placed their fist over their heart and had sworn to stay alive. He had heard the same promise come out of so many of his dead comrades’ mouths that realistically, he shouldn’t have expected this particular soldier to honor it. Yet for some reason, unknown even to himself, he had chosen to place his fragile trust in them. Maybe it had been their thirst for revenge, or their sheer willpower which, dare he say, could surpass Eren’s; whatever it had been, he did not regret it.

He drew closer, steps light as feathers on the wooden floor and took advantage of their hunched position to card his fingers through their hair, ruffling it affectionately. These damn kids keep getting taller… he thought bitterly to himself. The gesture managed to transform their wince of pain into a look of total and innocent wonder. The look in the eyes of a kid who's just got the utmost gesture of validation from a parent.

“You’re a good kid,” he conceded, patting their scalp twice before letting his hand fall back to his side. He could barely recognize the gentle tone of his own voice. “Although were you not wounded, I’d have roundhouse kicked your ass for scaring everyone like this.”

The phrase hadn’t even been that funny, in his opinion, but they let out a joyous, loud laugh, contagious to the people around them. It even pulled a chuckle out of Mikasa.

And as he stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the laughter of youth, he finally understood. Placing his trust in these kids, fighting alongside them, protecting them with the price of his life were worth all the risks because they were humanity’s last hope. And he would do anything to one day see their joyful faces wiped clean of crimson wounds and dirt and death. Anything.

[forthehpfanboys]

Bloody Knuckles and Sunshine

Pair: Harry Potter x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Harry loved his ball of sunshine and will do anything, including throwing hands at a dude a head taller than him, to protect it from harm.

Warnings: Mention of the f slur, Fighting, fluffy tho, also small homophobiaaaa

Notes: I loved this, dang-it. Hufflepuff reader!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Harry put a finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. He smirked when he saw your friend's eyes light up with mischief and silently agreed. He slowly inched forward, waiting until he was all but pressed against your back. He lunged forward, covering your eyes before whispering ‘guess who?’ in your ear.

He let out a laugh when you screamed successfully catching the attention of everyone in the dining hall. He pulled his hands away only to wrap them around your waist, watching how your face melted into a color to rival a strawberry. He laughed harder when you pulled your hood up to hide your blush. 

“Harry, you jerk!” You squeaked out while your friends snickered into their hands. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, love. You’re right, I’m a big meanie.” He said between chuckles, kissing your hood covered cheek. He laughed louder when you slapped his arm. “How is my favorite ray of sunshine doing this evening?” Harry took any opportunity he could to see you blush and it was quite easy to do, especially with such a soft nickname that fit you perfectly. Seriously, you’re smile lit up entire rooms and Harry levied for it. 

“Well, I was telling Cedric about this kneazle kit I found out by the bushes yesterday but now I wanna melt into the black lake and never come back.” You grumbled, slowly pulling your hood down when you were sure the attention and blush had faded. You smiled when Harry responded with a fake gasp of shock.

“And you didn’t tell me? After being your boyfriend for three months?”

“Three and a half-”

“That’s even worse!” Harry pouted at you, cheering internally when he managed to make you blush just the slightest. 

Truth be told, you’d been dating the wonder boy for 3.5 months and it all started because you’d bumped into him one random day. You’d apologized so quietly and swiftly, he nearly missed your American accent. He told you it was alright and you ran off before he could get a name. He ended up seeing you later that day, during dinner at the dining hall. They did a quick welcome ceremony for you before sorting you with the hat. Harry was practically leaping for joy when you were put in Hufflepuff. He was just grateful at the time to not have to deal with another Slytherin who’d judge people for something as simple as blood status. 

While you were quiet and shy and reserved and just overall the softest human Harry had ever met, he tried to talk to you whenever he could. He managed to break your shell a little bit each day, slowly spending more time with you and introducing you to his friends. 

You’d study with Hermione and help her tutor the other two dorks in the group. You’d play wizard's chess with Ron where most games end in a tie, but ever so often you would beat him, as would he. Long story short, his friends love you and at this point, Harry was loving you too, just a little differently. He wanted to hold you at night and fall asleep in your arms. He wanted to bake your favorite cookies just to see you smile. He wanted to see your bright eyes reflect the stars so badly.

So one day he did it. He asked you on a date in the middle of one of your chess games with Ron, leading to Ron winning because you were far too distracted by the males request. You did end up saying yes though, which rocked his hard harder than anything else. 

He took you to Hogsmeade, obviously. He showed you the shops, since this was the first time you’d been. He introduced you to the lovely world of Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. One date led to another, then another, then another, until it was literally a weekly thing. He saved Friday after school for you and only you. It was, actually, really cute. 

At every month milestone of you two being official boyfriends, he’d try to do something immensely special. In the first month, he took you out on the quidditch brooms for a night ride out. You gazed at the sky together, watched the sun set and returned to cuddle in his arms in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Second month, the two of you went adventuring in the Forbidden Forest, with Hagrid low-key third wheeling to make sure you were safe, then a cute picnic by the Black Lake. This month, he’d snuck you into the Shrieking Shack just so you’d get scared and confide in him. It was terrifying, but he made up for it with snuggles and treats swiped from the kitchen after hours. You were excited to see what month four had coming.

“Oh, stop. You’re acting like a big baby.” You giggled out, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. You waved your friends off when they faked a few gags. “What brings ya over here, anyway?”

“What? I can’t see my ball of sunshine? I’m hurt, (Y/n)! You wound me!” Harry scoffed, placing a hand over his chest as if his heart had shattered like a mirror. He looked around at your friends when they all grew quiet. “..What?”

“You usually only come over here to tease him or because someone specific and blonde was staring at him from across the room.” Cedric spoke up, his eyebrows cocked up while Harry’s furrowed in confusion.

“What? Do I?” Harry turned to you, his eyes shining with worry. You bit down on your lip before slowly nodding your head. You spoke up quickly when he let out a pain filled groan.

“But that’s ok because I get to see you in herbology, potions and astronomy!” You waved your hands, trying to show it really wasn’t a big deal. It really wasn’t! You got to see him a lot and understood he couldn’t be with you 24/7 and that his friends wanted his attention too, so it was fine. 

“I’ll do better.”

“What? Harry, no! Love, you’re fine!” You squeaked out, cupping his cheek gently. “Honestly, it’s ok.” You pulled your hand away when he swung one leg over the bench to straddle it next to you. 

“Are you sure?” Harry stared into your eyes, basically scanning your soul for lies like a bar code. You nodded your head again, planting a soft kiss on his nose. “Ok..” He smiled, pulling you to him before planting his own peck against your lips. 

He only pulled back when someone chose to shout a specific f slur across the room. The raven haired male didn’t hesitate to stand up. His eyes were scanning across the now quiet dining hall.

“Who said it?” Harry’s voice was not filled with sweetness. It was filled to the brim with venom and it only became more obvious when no one spoke up. “Oh, come on now! You weren’t scared to shout before! Don’t be shy now!” 

Neither you nor Harry batted an eye when McLaggen stood up. The blonde bimbo had been anything but pleasant toward you when you made your relationship public. 

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking, Harry.” McLaggen’s cocky voice spoke up as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cormac’s cockiness faded when McGonagall began spouting about intolerable language in Hogwarts and how that word was one of the many students should know better than to say. While the Gryffindor headmaster was going off, Harry didn’t hesitate to walk around the table, despite your protests, and punch the bloke square in the jaw.

You jumped up from your seat just as Cormac’s behind hit the floor of the dining hall. Harry  followed the bloke to the ground, deciding to bruise his ego and pretty face further. Upon order of McGonagall, the twins and Lee jumped up, separating Harry and McLaggen. Fred held Harry back while George and Jordan carried the idiot out of the hall. 

Once Harry stropped squirming, Fred let go, allowing you to scurry over and grab his hands. You also dragged him out of the dining hall much to McGonagall’s disliking, but went in the opposite direction as the quidditch players. You took him to the courtyard, setting him down on a step before kneeling in front of him. 

“Harry.” You spoke up, looking down at his right hands knuckles, that were covered in blood. “Come on, babe.” You whispered out, your heart cracking at the sight of your love hurt.

“I know..” Harry grumbled, his eyes also staring at the red liquid coming from his knuckles. 

“So, why do you keep fighting? Words can sting just as much as a punch.” You spoke up, reaching into Harry’s robe and pulling his wand out of the pocket. You transfigured a handful of leaves into a roll of bandages before shoving the wand into Harry’s not bloody hand and started wrapping up his knuckles.

“Because you’re too soft on people.” Harry looked down at his knees, his hands coming to his sides to rest against the stone. He started drawing a pathetic portrait of the two of you sitting at some.. Beach? Maybe it was grass. Poor babe couldn’t draw that well.

“Hun, people have reasons behind the things they say and do..” You rested a hand against his shoulder. He looked up from his drawing in the dirt to gaze up at you, his eyes big and innocent even after a fight.

“I know..” He grumbled again. “But he deserved it this time, babe, you know he did. If it wasn’t me, it’d be Cedirc or Ron for Merlin’s sake.” 

“I know..” You sat down next to the raven haired male, pulling him to your side and letting him lean his head against your shoulder. “I’m not mad, ya know? It.. It was nice.” You bit your lip. Harry knows that hesitation. His eyes snapped up to yours, noting the soft blush across your cheeks.

“Oh, really, sunshine? You like it when I play knight?” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking a little when your soft pink cheeks turned brighter in hue.

“May-.. No, I’m not giving you a reason to keep getting bloody knuckles.” You shook your head, gazing across the courtyard.

“Oooh, you do like it when I play knight!”

“Harry, no.”

“Harry yes!”

“Harry, no!” You shouted, your voice slightly sterner. Harry wasn’t used to you being so stern or loud, it was kinda scary. “Do not get into more fights just to fluster me.” Your shy demeanor came back ten fold, causing him to smirk wider.

“Of course not! Why would I do that, sunshine?” Harry snickered, his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing the base of your neck. He wasn’t going to bring up every year he managed to find himself in literal life or death situations or the fact that he was most likely going to be defending you again.

“Because your Harry Potter and ‘I-Fight-Homophobs’ really should be your middle name.” You smiled, praying he didn’t notice how hot your body had gotten from the heat. He let out a final laugh, his lips planting a big kiss to your cheek. “Harry, seriously, though. No more fights. It’s scary.”

“No, I know! Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!”

“No, I know!”

“Then where are you going?”

“To finish what I started! Just five minutes, sunshine. Just five, I promise!”

“Harry, no!”

[juunnies]

flower shop

PAIRING ▸ kang taehyun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ strangers to friends to lovers, college au, flower shop au, fluff, angst

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity, death

SUMMARY ▸ kang taehyun never loved flowers this much until he met you. a flower shop was where you both met, but it was where you would always be.

PLAYLIST ▸ eternally by txt • where’s my love by syml

WORD COUNT ▸ 6626 words

COME TO THINK OF IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU REMINDED HIM OF FLOWERS. 

From the delicate features of your face; the sweet tone you used when you called out his name; your hands that felt so soft, almost like a petal; and the first day the both of you met in that little flower shop—Taehyun was constantly reminded of you whenever he passed by a flower. It wasn't pleasant in the slightest bit. In fact, he wanted to tear it all down. Your presence in his head were dark, filmy sheets that he couldn't bring himself to pull down.

Everything felt so calm; the soft sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window, the gentle hum from the open flame as Beomgyu, his roommate, boiled tea for them, and the plush blanket that Taehyun threw over himself as he curled up on the couch. If only Beomgyu would hurry up with the tea, then Taehyun wouldn't have to be left to brood alone.

His own thoughts were poison at this point—thinking about the shop, thinking about you, thinking about flowers. Loneliness wasn't good for Taehyun, nor was silence. He fought that loneliness like a storm yet all he needed was a distraction from his crushing thoughts.

"Tea's ready," Beomgyu called out groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

Taehyun wasn't the least bit surprised. He could hear him and Soobin playing video games all through the night. He would've yelled at them to keep quiet, but rather, the louder volume came from the silence of his own pounding memories.

Taehyun took the cup that Beomgyu handed him and let the warm steam rise up to his face. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, taking it all in.

"Long night, Gyu?" he asked, and the sarcasm was nearly undetectable if Taehyun hadn't raised a single brow at his roommate.

"Oh man." Beomgyu rubbed the back of his neck and took a seat next to him on the couch. "Were we that loud? I mean I was trying to calm Soobin down the best I could, but it was all over after he beat the high score."

"It's fine." Taehyun waved the matter off casually with his hand. "It wasn't your fault that I couldn't sleep."

Beomgyu frowned, peering at his friend through warm eyes that were clouded with concern. "Taehyun… you know you can talk to me about it, right? You keep it all pent up and act all strong about it, but I know you're crying into your pillow at night, and I know you clench your fist whenever we walk by that flower shop near the campus." Beomgyu exhaled shakily, and Taehyun could tell that he, too, was keeping all this pent up. "You're my best friend, and seeing you like this—well, it hurts."

Taehyun understood all too well. He saw it when he looked at himself in the mirror. The dark bags under his eyes were a dead giveaway, but what scared him was how empty he looked. Some days he couldn't even recognize the person he was looking at.

Smiles became painful and laughs were a sound he didn't feel like he was capable of making anymore. Taehyun tried not to look at his reflection; he hated it. When he did, though, the storm would start with a slight quiver in his lower lip. His hands would start to shake and then sobs would rack his body.

Taehyun looked at Beomgyu in the eye and felt immense guilt. He and Soobin had been worrying about him and Taehyun did nothing to ease their troubles. He didn't speak much to Hyuka these days as he was in a different dorm, but Beomgyu and Soobin would often keep him updated about Taehyun’s condition. Taehyun did miss the days when they'd all hang out, but he felt incapable of experiencing that joy. All he could feel was creeping dread that darkened each waking hour, that made him feel drained each time he had to drag himself out of bed.

"Gyu, I appreciate it. I really do," Taehyun replied, sipping the black tea. He loved the tea that Beomgyu would always make for him; the creamy texture and sweet buttery overlay always calmed him down. "I just really don't know how to move on."

It had been so long that Taehyun didn’t know if he was ever going to move on.

Taehyun could see in his best friend’s eyes that Beomgyu held onto every single word he uttered. "I know, Tae," he told him, "but you don't have to keep it all in. Let it all out to me, to your friends. You can lean on us."

“I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Beomgyu said firmly, a little louder. “If you were a burden, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I wouldn’t be waking up every morning to make you your favorite tea. I wouldn’t be begging you to let me support you.”

A spark of hope flickered in Taehyun’s eyes. He stared back down at his tea and shut his eyes, letting the steam lick the curve of his cheeks and travel up to his eyelids.

"I'll talk," he decided.

Beomgyu’s face lit up and he set his tea down on the table. He jolted up, fumbling with his pant pockets to search for his phone. "I'll call the others to come here tonight as soon as they can," he said with a grin and grabbed his bag. "Are you coming to class today?"

"I think I'll just skip today."

"Again?" Beomgyu asked, his eyebrows knitting into a frown. "Can you keep up with the coursework like this?"

Taehyun nodded, leaning back against the couch. "Of course. I've been getting all my assignments in, and Hyuka texts me what I missed in the lectures."

Saying Hyuka’s name left a bitter taste in Taehyun’s mouth; he regretted not communicating properly with all of his friends, but it stung more as Hyuka was the one who would record lectures for him, take extra notes, and keep him up to date about quizzes and exams.

All Taehyun did in return was push him away.

"I gotta get to class but I'll see you in the evening, Taehyun." Beomgyu waved goodbye with a soft smile and Taehyun returned it with his own wave just before his best friend walked out the door.

Taehyun got up with a deep sigh and made his way to the kitchen to put his cup in the sink. He set them on top of a few plates that were piled up amongst other dishes and rinsed them with water.

A small flower pot sat on the windowsill. There was a sprouting bud that looked nearly about to bloom. Taehyun frowned and gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, yet he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the plant. The sigh that escaped his lips held a plethora of emotions that he couldn't seem to tell if it was bittersweet or not.

Everything led him back to you.

The sunshine seemed to be extra resplendent on the day of Taehyun’s fateful encounter with you. He was in a flower shop, picking up some flowers that Soobin needed for his visit to his mom's house that evening (he was busy with an exam and couldn't make it, so he sent Taehyun instead). It was then when he saw you through a bouquet of lilies, the sunlight bouncing off of your sleek and shiny hair. He had to tear his gaze away from you, but he was too late.

You saw him.

He expected you to be flustered or shocked, but, instead, a wide smile crossed your face. There was a mysterious glint in your eyes and instantly, Taehyun was intrigued. Should he talk to you? Taehyun wasn't very experienced when it came to flirting. Rather, he didn’t even need to do it most of the time; he just let his eyes do all the work, but all of a sudden, he felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

"Looking for something?" the shopkeeper asked him and Taehyun nearly tripped over his feet trying to turn around to look at the man.

He didn’t look much older than Taehyun but carried himself with more confidence and grace. He was attractive in a bookish sort of way, wearing a thick cardigan and had glasses pushed up onto his head. His selling point, however, were his full lips, and he seemed to know exactly how to draw attention to them, whether it was intentional or not. Although he wasn’t smiling with those lips, his eyes showed it quite radiantly.

"I—no, I just—uh..." Taehyun stammered and rested his arm on the counter cooly, but nearly tipped over a flower vase while doing so. He managed to catch it just in time and set it back quickly, letting out a shaky breath. "Sorry," he mumbled and heard a giggle from behind. It was the pretty girl and oh was he embarrassed.

"It's alright, dude," the shopkeeper replied, chuckled, and sharply glared at the pretty girl. "Y/N, don't laugh at customers."

So that was your name.

"Sorry, Yeonjun!" you apologized in a cheery voice. Everything about you was so eccentric that Taehyun wondered how he was keeping up with your energy. "He's just so adorable." You laughed a little while a red tint started creeping up his neck.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, shaking his head at your antics. “Sorry about my little sister,” he apologized to Taehyun.

He saw the resemblance between you and Yeonjun. They both had a warm personality and an incandescent smile that lit up the store. Rather than the flowers setting the ambiance, it was them. But you were so eccentric and so full of energy that Taehyun couldn’t even fathom matching up to. He was still reeling over the fact that you had called him adorable right in front of your brother.

Taehyun’s words were failing him as he helplessly stared at you, opening his mouth once and then closing it. He felt pathetic but turned back to Yeonjun instead. "I'm here to pick up Choi Soobin’s order," he said, showing him the receipt.

"Right… ah, yes, I remember," Yeonjun recollected. He looked at it and then reached under the counter, placing a vase full of roses in front of Taehyun. And another. And another. And another.

Why on Earth did Soobin need four vases? Taehyun thought in exasperation and mentally noted that this would be the last time he was going to be doing a favor for Soobin.

"Do you live close by?" Yeonjun asked, much like a protective guardian, noticing how distressed Taehyun looked as he stared at the flower vases.

"Yeah, I go to the college here so I live in the dorms right down the street," Taehyun replied, sandwiching one of the vases between his arm and side in preparation to hold all four.

"Oh, Y/N, why don't you help him carry a few of those," Yeonjun insisted and his little sister came rushing right over, scooping up two of the vases.

Holding the two vases in your arms, you looked up at Taehyun curiously. The sunlight caught on the tips of your lashes and reflected yellow flickers in your eyes. Taehyun was transfixed, and a bit horrified that he was so mesmerized. You laughed a little—a harmonious sound that was stuck in his head now.

"How long are you gonna keep staring?"

"Oh, sorry," Taehyun muttered quickly, embarrassed, and scooped up the remaining vase. "Erm, thank you very much for your help." He nodded toward you and Yeonjun, who smiled in response.

"Thank me after I've helped you," you replied with a grin, gesturing for him to lead the way.

"Oh, right—yes, okay," Taehyun rambled in a quiet, nearly inaudible voice before he headed out the door with you following right after him.

He led you down the sidewalk, moving to make sure you weren’t on the side of the road. You seemed to pick up on Taehyun’s pathetic attempt at being a gentleman and raised your brows at him, impressed. Taehyun, of course, was simply trying not to royally screw up one way or another in front of you. He glanced at you and couldn't stop thinking about how he wanted to get to know you better and maybe change that morbidly awkward first impression he gave off.

"I didn't catch your name." You interrupted his thoughts with a glowing smile that made him almost freeze in his tracks. Taehyun had to remind himself to keep walking—one foot after the other. "I heard a Choi Soobin somewhere, but I'm guessing that's not your name."

He smiled a little, realizing how dangerous and how contagious that smile of yours was. "It's Taehyun. Kang Taehyun."

"I'm Y/N," you greeted in a sing-songy voice that reeled Taehyun in.

You had some distinct charm that drew people in and made it so easy to talk to you, but Taehyun was just a touch shy all of a sudden. He wasn’t like this. It was all so new to him.

"You go to the university here?" he asked you.

"I do, and I'm assuming you’re also a student considering you live in the dorms."

“Yeah.” Taehyun scoffed a little. “My scholarship only covers my tuition, not housing, so I’m rooming in a triple.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why don’t you live in the dorms?” he asked, and quickly added, “Oh, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re good,” you replied, the smile on your lips daring to fall apart, but you kept your composure well. "I don't have much money, so all the money I get for college is from scholarships and the funds from the flower shop. We make it work, though!”

Something about how innocent your tone was horrified Taehyun. He knew that some students struggled financially, but he couldn't imagine how you could pay off your college funds from that small flower shop. It was the hope in your tone that crushed him, though. Your positivity was overwhelming to the point that Taehyun wasn’t sure if he felt defeated or inspired.

"I'm sorr—"

"No, don't say it." You shook her head and silenced Taehyun with a raise of your slender finger. "I don't like pity, and I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me," you finished stubbornly.

Taehyun stayed quiet for the rest of the walk back to the dorms.

Taehyun stayed awake throughout that night, replaying your words in his head. He didn't understand it, but perhaps he wasn't supposed to. He didn't have financial struggles, so what could he possibly understand? All he knew was that he wanted to help you, and so he did.

Every day, Taehyun headed to the flower shop right after his lectures were over and he'd buy some flowers, avoiding Yeonjun’s nagging questions about why on Earth he was buying so many flowers. He decided to routinely place the flowers at random people's doors. Of course, it took a lot of setting his pride aside, but Taehyun wanted to do something good.

Maybe it would brighten someone's day, he thought.

He began working at the flower shop. He loved it there. He got to see you tend to the flowers and was amazed by how delicately you handled them. He never imagined he'd become so close to you and Yeonjun, and it satisfied him; he wanted every day to be like this. He specifically requested for Yeonjun not to pay him and slipped all of his tip money into your apron.

“Yeonjun,” Taehyun called one day when he was sweeping the floor behind the counter. “You’re letting me take the holiday off to go home over break so why aren’t you closing shop?”

Yeonjun smiled, and Taehyun couldn’t help but think about how similar you were to your big brother. “The flower shop is my home.”

“What about your parents?”

“Our mom died giving birth to Y/N,” Yeonjun explained honestly. “Our dad ran off after that and left us with our grandparents. I guess we could go spend the break with our grandparents but they’re not so big on the holiday.”

While Yeonjun sunk deep in thought, Taehyun pondered over his words. If you ever struggled with your past, you certainly never showed it. While it was admirable, it worried Taehyun. Yeonjun, however, had said in the past that optimism was simply wired in you.

Taehyun and you made hanging out a daily thing. After leaving flowers at random houses, Taehyun would go back to the flower shop and pick you up to go to a coffee shop. You would talk for hours, laugh, and go on a walk afterward. It was fun, but Taehyun felt like something was always missing.

When they'd drink coffee, he'd want to gaze into your eyes; when they'd talk, he'd want to discuss a future that they could possibly have together; when they'd walk, his hand itched to entwine with yours; when you would laugh, he wanted the world to stop just so he could listen to the melodious sound that resonated.

It was getting bad because Taehyun’s heart would clench when he imagined spending his days without you.

Months brought you both closer. Before, Taehyun wanted to know everything about you in an instant. He wanted an arsenal of knowledge just on you, but then he realized the value of learning more and more about someone slowly over time. He savored your deep conversations over the phone and late-night texts because he was vulnerable at night and allowed himself to open up to you. So, it wasn’t long before the both of you became inseparable.

But Taehyun didn't realize that his feelings for you were more than just a close bond. A late night conversation with Hyuka confirmed that he had feelings that surpassed the realm of friendship. Sure, he knew he liked you. A lot. But his true feelings for you ran deeper than that, deeper than a friendship or a silly crush.

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" Hyuka asked him one night while they were both sitting on the couch, watching some re-run episode of a show Taehyun forgot the title of.

"Hm? What's this?" Soobin asked, walking into the room with a soda can in his hands. "Is Taehyun finally admitting he likes Y/N?"

"Of course I like her," Taehyun replied, rubbing his temple with two fingers. His head felt like it was spinning in turmoil. He didn't understand why his feelings were so strong, and he was a little scared to find out. "But this isn't just like and admire. This is more than that, but I just can't explain it."

"You love her," Hyuka said. "Isn't that right?"

Love.

The word was so precious, so fragile, that Taehyun could hardly bring himself to utter the word. Yes, it was the brilliant smile you gave him, the twinkle in your eyes, the softness of your hands, the hardworking side of you, the stubborn side of you, and the caring side of you—he loved it all. Taehyun wanted it all. He wanted to grow old with you and keep you safely at his side. He wanted to be someone that you could confide in and someone who could help you not suffer anymore.

"I love Y/N," Taehyun whispered, and then repeated it with a newfound confidence, "I love her."

Hyuka and Soobin observed their best friend in silence, a small smirk crossing their lips. They found it adorable that a girl managed to capture the heart of Kang Taehyun. A happy sigh escaped Hyuka’s lips as Taehyun got up to go to his bedroom and reflect on his revelation.

"Look at him go." Soobin sighed wistfully, like a proud parent.

The night before Taehyun decided to confess, he could hardly stay awake. He could only imagine every single scenario that could play out following his confession. He was certain he wouldn't be able to create some over-the-top proclamation of love that would make you swoon, but he was certain he would get his feelings out to you.

The rest was up to you.

He thought of your angelic smile. How could someone even look so heavenly? Whenever he saw you wearing that cream-colored sweater while working at the shop, Taehyun just wanted to reach out and hold you in his arms.

Taehyun was hardly ready the moment he was about to confess to you. He had brought you to a bridge overlooking a lake and was clutching the metal railing so tight that the paint was starting to flake off. He wished that the ground underneath him would disappear so that he could fall into some figurative void, but he knew that he had to do this. It was now or never for Kang Taehyun.

"Yes," you said suddenly and Taehyun’s eyes widened.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated this a few times while he tried to grasp the situation. He was in disbelief—did he confess already or not? Before Taehyun was about to ask something stupid, he realized you were on the phone with Yeonjun, letting him know when you would be home. His cheeks flushed and he looked down at the lake to hide the deep blush across his cheeks.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" you asked, turning around to look at him with a smile.

He swallowed hard and shoved his shaking hands in his pockets. Kang Taehyun didn’t fear many things in life, but the weight of what he was about to do was getting heavier and heavier. It was just him and her, and no one else.

"Y/N," he began a little shakily, but regained his courage quickly, "I think I've been captured by you ever since the moment I met you. But lately, my feelings have been growing stronger. I didn't really understand it at first but whenever I look at you—just look at you—I feel so immensely happy."

"Taehyun—" you began softly.

Taehyun cut you off. He needed to finish. He needed to let out the feelings he had been suppressing. The feelings that made his heart ache and his stomach flutter.

"I can't—I can't think when you're around. Everything escapes me, even the world, and it's just you. I—it feels like I can't speak. I can't breathe."

"Taehyun," you whispered, but it didn't sound like you wanted to stop him. You just wanted to call out his name, and oh, how he loved it when you said his name.

"I love you," Taehyun stated clearly, a slightly agonized expression on his face. "I've loved you for so long and I didn't—I couldn't tell you."

You looked like you were at a loss of words and Taehyun’s stomach dropped then and there. You simply stood there as if Taehyun’s words had pinned you in place. Did he screw up? Did he make you uncomfortable? He knew the confession would go one of two ways, but he was really hoping you weren't actually going to reject him.

While Taehyun used his words to get his feelings across, you used your actions. You threw yourself into his arms, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. Every thought, every sense of moral in Taehyun’s head exploded into flashes of white, and he had to fight back the dark curl of desire that twisted in him.

It was calm and gentle, yet a violent storm all at once. Taehyun didn't understand how a simple kiss could draw so many emotions from him and extract so much passion. He pulled away first in disbelief, his eyes drifting to your lips as he tried to catch his breath. An overwhelming burst of happiness filled him to the rim and he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you too," he swore he heard you whisper softly next to his ear.

And so, his relationship with you kicked off. You were both happy and content, and Yeonjun was surprisingly supportive of the new couple. In fact, he had coyly mentioned that he had seen it coming. Taehyun’s friends congratulated him during a night filled with drinks and laughs, and Taehyun discovered about the running bet they had on when you two would get together. There wasn’t anyone in his life that didn’t know he was dating you. After all, he walked hand-in-hand wherever he went with you.

He finally got to hold your soft, delicate hands.

"We should travel together," you said one night while you were star-gazing with your boyfriend.

Taehyun turned to look at you and saw the reflection of the constellations in your glittering eyes.

"Where would we go?" Taehyun asked, moving his hand up to stroke your hair gently.

You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. "France? Amsterdam? Greece? It doesn’t matter."

Taehyun chuckled. "I don't mind what we do or where we go. I'm sure we'll have fun as long as we're together."

You and Taehyun gazed into each other's eyes. He saw a future with you in your sparkling eyes. He saw them getting married, moving in together, and having kids. He saw them growing old together and playing with their grandkids in their house.

"You're right." You grinned and then your smile faltered. "I have something I need to tell you."

Taehyun raised a brow. "Go ahead."

"Yeonjun told me about you working for free. The extra tip money I've been finding in my apron is from you then, right?" you asked and rolled over onto your side to look at him. "Why are you doing this, Tae?"

"I love you, Y/N," Taehyun murmured. "I don't need the money. I just want to help you out."

"I appreciate it, I really do. I'm going to get a job, Taehyun. After college. I'm going to make enough money to support us and Yeonjun."

Taehyun grinned and cupped your cheek in his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it. That was what he loved about you. You always looked for the good in every situation and stayed positive even with the world weighing you down. You never gave up.

"I believe in you."

The two of you laid down on the picnic blanket that night and talked about worlds from their dreams and futures imagined and unimagined. You vowed to be a better parent than your own parents. Taehyun agreed that he'd always put family first. The two of them looked up into the starry night sky and imagined futures that they'd spend together.

It was the day of your one-year anniversary when Taehyun waited at the park, shivering because of the cold. The tip of his nose was red, his ears were practically frozen, and his toes were curled in his shoes. He was holding a bouquet of lilies and a surprise he bought for her. Taehyun wasn’t one to go big on anniversaries, but you were important to him.

You were supposed to be here any second now, and the only thing keeping Taehyun occupied and sane were the texts from his friends, cheering him on. He had an odd feeling that they were stalking him, but he shook it off. Even if they were, they would leave with disgust all over their faces the moment he leaned in to kiss you.

Taehyun couldn't stop smiling to himself. Lilies were perfect; it was like their flower. He was eager to see your reaction.

"Help!" someone cried. "Call 911—!"

Taehyun frowned. The strangled voice sounded close by. He rushed over quickly to see what all the commotion was about. He didn't want to leave the area he was waiting for you at, but he couldn't ignore something like this.

"Is everything okay? What's the matter?" Taehyun pushed past the crowd on the sidewalk to reach the center of the chaos.

He could hardly believe the sight in front of him. You were laying in the middle of the street, blood pooling around your limp body. Paramedics rushed toward you and, after checking your pulse, started performing CPR. It started from his toes, but Taehyun started to shake, slowly, and then violently.

"Y-Y/N?" he croaked out in a soft voice.

"I told her to stop," Taehyun overheard a bystander telling someone else, "but she didn't seem to hear me. She was in such a rush that she ran into the street without even realizing that the signal was still green."

“Did they call her family?” someone else asked.

As if on cue, Yeonjun ran out into the street, face settled in shock and body shaking with heavy sobs. A few policemen had to hold him back while he screamed, “That’s my sister!” in the most painful cry Taehyun had ever heard.

Yeonjun’s teary eyes met Taehyun’s and drifted to the bouquet of lilies he was holding. Frozen in place, Taehyun opened his mouth to say something, only for his voice to fail him as tears slipped down his cheeks and onto the delicate flower petals. Yeonjun surely blamed him for what happened to you. There was no way he would look at Taehyun the same way again.

He stayed there, some hopeful part of him begging for you to be okay, but Taehyun then heard the words that ended it all: "She's dead."

The world sounded waterlogged. Taehyun found himself kneeling on the ground, yet he didn't know how or when he got there. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared blankly at his girlfriend's lifeless body. The light faded from your sparkling eyes, making them dull and hollow. It was probably the most chilling, haunting sight he could have ever witnessed. Your soft hands were probably cold now. You would never laugh again. You were gone.

This wasn't how love stories were supposed to go. This wasn't how your love story was supposed to go. It was all a mess. It was unfinished. Broken. Torn. Gone. Forever.

He couldn't even tell you anymore that he loved you. That he wanted to be with you forever. The little black box in his pocket was useless now. Even if he screamed it from atop the highest building, you’d never hear him again.

Taehyun dragged himself over to your body and sucked in a harsh sob. "Y/N! Get up! Please, please, please… please get up!" He choked on his words and broke down in tears.

Yelling, even in your death. If you were alive, you would have laughed in hysteria and found it stupidly hilarious. You would wipe his tears and tell him that "it's okay" and that you love him, because you care far too much about him.

"Stay with me, Y/N, stay with me," Taehyun cried out, though he knew he wouldn't get any response. He felt a hand squeezing his shoulder but ignored it. "You—you said we were going to have a future together." His voice cracked and the tears started to blur his vision. "I brought… I brought you lilies.”

Taehyun dug the heels of his palms against his eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. "Shit, shit, shit, shit—" he hissed, finally screaming out in pain and agony like a wounded dog.

Taehyun felt himself being lifted to his feet and looked to see Soobin and Beomgyu hoisting his arms over their shoulders and dragging him out of the scene. Hyuka walked beside them to the dorms, not meeting Taehyun’s eyes as they felt a sharp stab with each sob that came from him.

"No, no, no…" Taehyun mumbled. "Gyu… Hyuka, please... I need to check on Y/N. I need to see her, I need to—please…" he whimpered. "I need to see her. Please? Soobin?"

They were too afraid to tell him the truth. Deep down, Taehyun knew, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. A disgusting feeling of regret harrowed him and made him feel physically ill. He doubled over the moment Beomgyu and Soobin set him down in his dorm room. Hyuka caught him and helped him onto the couch.

I should have picked her up. I should have given her more time to get ready. I should have looked out for her. I should have paid attention. I should have been there. I should have protected her.

Each phrase he repeated in his head made him cry even more. Regret bubbled up in Taehyun and held him in a vice. It felt worse than heartbreak, like losing your other half. Taehyun had always felt a tightness in his chest around you, but now that tightness physically hurt him. It wasn’t dreamy and giddy like before, it was mournful and upsetting.

"Breathe," Hyuka said slowly, "long and deep."

Taehyun took a ragged breath and tried to calm down. He felt hollow, incomplete, missing. His vision blanked out with an array of black spots and a pounding rush of blood to his head. Slowly, the realization that you had just died in front of him had hit him again, and he started to cry again. It was less violent this time and more painful. He cried in mourning for her future that had just slipped away—their future.

"Taehyun, talk to us." Hyuka rubbed his back.

Taehyun swatted his hand away coldly and got up, backing away from them. "Don't—don't…" His voice cracked again and he hurried away, getting in his bed and pulling the blankets over his head, yet, he couldn't find any warmth in that either.

You were gone and took a part of him with you.

He loved your smile. Your radiant, glowing smile that lit up the room. He loved those sparkling eyes full of hope and joy. Months had passed, but Taehyun still couldn't bring himself to get over you, and he didn't think he ever would. You would forever live in his heart, never fading, forever young.

Taehyun only went outside the dorm when it was to visit your grave. On the day of your funeral, he was allowed to keep lilies on your casket, so they were lowered down into the ground with you. He continued to bring lilies for you whenever he'd visit your grave.

Taehyun walked along the street and tried to force the bittersweet memories of your walks in the city out of his head. He headed up the hill to the graveyard and stood in front of your grave. It became routine for him to replace the withering lilies with fresh ones to honor your memory.

"Y/N, I love you so, so much," he whispered, "but I can't keep hurting the ones I love like this. I need to move on but Y/N," his voice broke and he furiously wiped at the tear that dared to spill, "how do I do that?"

The silence didn't answer Taehyun’s question but gave him time to answer it for himself. You wouldn't want him crying for the rest of his life over you. You would want him to find a reason to be happy and live the rest of his life. He could at least do that for you so that you could smile brightly down on him from the Heavens.

Taehyun headed down the hill and eyed the flower shop at the corner of the street. He hesitated, but he knew he couldn't avoid Yeonjun forever. He walked toward the shop and opened the doors. Yeonjun still had that lost look in his eyes, but he seemed to be doing a lot better. The last time Taehyun had seen him was over half a year ago, and he looked rattled and hollow back then. The light seemed to be returning to Yeonjun now.

"Taehyun?" he called, shock clear in his voice as he moved away from the counter and toward him.

"Yeonjun, I’m… I’m sorry," Taehyun choked out and rubbed his eyes, a quiet whimper escaping his lips at the end.

“Are you still blaming yourself?” Yeonjun’s voice was low now. “Y/N’s death is still hard for me, but she’d want us to be happy.”

Taehyun frowned. “She just meant so much to me.”

“I know.” Yeonjun’s voice was firm. “You lost your girlfriend, but I lost my little sister, Taehyun.”

Taehyun was silent. He felt his heart seize at Yeonjun’s words. Their parents were out of the picture to begin with, but you and Yeonjun always had each other. Now, with you gone, Yeonjun had to let go of the future he was building with you.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeonjun softened at his words. “Healing isn’t linear, Taehyun,” he reassured. “You can take as long as you need to grieve, but you have people who care about you, okay? Lean onto them. They want to help, and I think you’ll be a lot happier if you accept it.”

Taehyun nodded, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He knew more than anyone else that he had been pushing away his best friend’s attempts to comfort him for far too long.

Yeonjun walked back to the counter and then came back with a small box in his hand. "Y/N must have loved you a lot," he said and opened the box, displaying a silver ring, "she saved up all her tip money to propose to you."

Taehyun stared at the ring in disbelief and his eyes stung as Yeonjun slipped your ring onto his finger. Suppressing a choked sob, he pulled out his own box from his pocket and showed Yeonjun the ring he had gotten for you.

"It looks like we both had the same intentions."

Taehyun laughed a little through the blinding tears and let Yeonjun pull him into a hug. They stood there, embracing each other because they only had the other in remembrance of you. Yeonjun was the last living memory Taehyun had of you; he was like his own older brother, and he wanted to protect his happiness.

"Jun, let me work here again, please," Taehyun requested, glancing at the flowers around him, his eyes flitting to the lilies.

Yeonjun squeezed his shoulder, mustering a smile. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Taehyun almost forgot about the interrogation awaiting him when he walked back to his dorm. After the talk with Yeonjun, his head was in the clouds, swimming in pools of thoughts. He was still reflecting on Yeonjun’s words, still trying not to blame himself. It was hard not to when Taehyun kept regretting every three-word phrase he never said and every kiss he never pressed to your cheek.

When he opened the door to his dorm, Taehyun was greeted by his friends sitting in the living room. They were leaning back on their hands and watching some low-rate horror movie. When Taehyun walked into the living room, however, Beomgyu reached for the remote and turned it off.

"What are you…?"

Hyuka grinned at him. "Gyu told us you were going to talk."

Soobin and Beomgyu scooted to the sides of the couch so that Taehyun would have room to sit in the middle. He glanced at all of them, a light sigh escaping his lips when he saw the eagerness in their eyes. He knew he couldn’t keep pushing them away. Not anymore. Not ever.

And so, Taehyun told them from beginning to end about you, about the future they were going to have, and about all the flowers around you.

[weelittleweasley]

Say It | Draco x Reader

Prompt as requested by anon: You and Draco both have liked each other since year four, but neither of you want to admit to the other how you feel. So you decide a friendly game of hard to get will make Draco confess his feelings. 

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’ve been trying to CRANK out these imagines for you guys and getting your requests out there. I am going to close requests for the rest of the week, so I can really deliver the content for you guys and do another multipart imagine for the weekend hehehehe...

A pair of ice blue eyes gazed at you from across the table as its owners smiled softly to himself at the sight of you, writing away in your notebook, taking diligent notes in preparation for exams. He watched as you pushed your hair away from your face, getting annoying and giving in to tying it back into a low ponytail. You bit down on your lower lip, concentration on the material sat in front of you. You were in the zone. You finally acknowledged that someone was indeed staring at you and you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. A small smile danced on your lips as you spoke, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer, Malfoy.”

Draco let out a light chuckle. “I can’t enjoy the view?” he asked you.

You placed your quill down to take a look at the boy sat in front of you. “Haven’t you heard?” you sarcastically ask. “Staring at people without them knowing is creepy.”

“You didn’t know I was staring at you?” Draco teases which makes you blush. He always knew how to come back at you.

The two of you liked each other and it was clear as day. Everyone around you knew it. All of your friends, all of the students in your year, even your professors picked up on it. But the two of you were so stubborn that neither of you wanted to admit your feelings to the other in fear that they would be admitting defeat. This has been going on since year four and now you two were in year six, still not together. You hadn’t even kissed. Nothing. 

Shaking your head, you return to your work, a smile still plastered on Draco’s face as you continued your studies. There were lots of things that Draco liked about you. Obviously, you were beautiful. But it was more than that. He liked how strong willed you like himself. You were driven and ambitious. You weren’t afraid to stand up for yourself and others, putting people in their place with just a glare. Draco adored how strong you were on the outside, but a complete mush on the inside when it came to your family and friends. There was so much to like that it made Draco unable to think straight at times. 

Draco so desperately wanted to make you his. He wanted to tell you everything about how he has felt about for the past two years. But even though he knew how much you liked him, he still feared rejection. That you would think he wasn’t worthy of someone like you. That you would prefer someone who’s family wasn’t so snooty or prestigious. These thoughts often circulated throughout his head and could drive him close to insanity, wondering what you would do if he asked you to be his.

“Haven’t you had enough studying for today?” he whines as you continue to keep your head buried in your work. You didn’t take exams lightly. Although you liked having fun as much as the next person, your academia always came first. It was your responsibility to do well in school and be better than the next student. You didn’t feel obligated to do it for anyone; you were a good student for yourself. You wanted to prove to yourself that you were just as capable of being brilliant like other students similar to Hermione Granger. “You could use a distraction,” Draco teases.

You roll your eyes, “Are you suggesting that I may be more interested in what you have to offer?” Draco raises his hands in defense. You chuckle, closing your book, surrendering to the blonde Slytherin in front of you. “Well, let me hear your sales pitch, Malfoy.”

Draco sits up in his chair, eye staring into yours. Merlin, you had beautiful eyes. It’s like he saw the galaxy in your eyes. Such a beautiful hue, blinking with joy, curiosity, and cleverness. “I don’t know what to do to sell you, (Y/L/N),” Draco confessed. Which was true. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. What else could he possible do to prove that he liked you and wanted to make you his?

Sucking on your teeth, you feign disappointment. “Not the words I was looking for. What a pity,” you tease as he grins. “Just means I’ll have to postpone buying your product longer than anticipated.”

Before Draco can even ask what that means, you had grabbed your things and left the library with a saucy smirk on your lips. “Merlin, she’ll be the death of me,” he breathes out. Draco sits there, thinking of what he has to do to prove himself to you.

-----

You return to your room, peeling your cardigan off of your body as your roommate, Daphne, sits on her bed. She catches the goofy grin on your face as you place your things away, tucking them into their respective drawers. “Smiling about Malfoy?” she laughs as you ignore her. Daphne knew first hand how much you liked Draco. Ever since year four, you would ramble on and on about him and how much you liked the boy. She would roll her eyes and tell you that you should make a move as your eyes would widen in fear and earn her a ‘are you mental?’ in response. “(Y/N), you like the bloke so much and you know how he feels about you. How many hoops are you going to make him jump through?” she sits up as you plop yourself next to her. 

“It’ll come to an end soon,” you confess. “I’ve planted the seed. Now, we wait,” you tell her as she furrows her brows, confused. “Meaning, I told him he needs to sell me on reasons I should want to be his girlfriend. I’ll give him a hard time about it, but I’ll give in.”

Daphne just laughs wildly at you, now your turn to be confused. “Oh, silly little (Y/N). Do you know what you just got yourself into?” she asks, placing a hand on your leg, trying to reassure you about the decision you’ve made. “You challenged Draco Malfoy to a game he will crush you in. I remember when Draco had a two week crush on Tracey Davis and he sent her owls that carried roses to her room every morning and night. And that crush lasted two weeks! Yours has been two years in the making.”

Maybe Daphne was right, this was a mistake. But you kind of wanted to see just how far the boy would go to show you how much he wanted you. That night you went to sleep with excitement and nervousness about what Draco would have in store for you tomorrow.

The morning came quickly as you awoke, still groggy. You slide on your slippers when there is a knock at the door. Yawning, you open the door and on the floor near the door is about six dozen red roses and a small card on the top of the pile of flowers. You open the white card and in Draco’s handwriting reads: Challenge Accepted. Xo, Malfoy

You can’t help but smile. 

“You’re bloody joking,” Daphne says from behind you as you shrug, picking up a flower, sniffing its pleasant scent. “I am not picking that up. Malfoy has a crush on you, not me.” 

After getting ready in uniform and ready for the day, you make your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. When you sit down with Daphne, Draco is immediately sat to your left. You sip on your pumpkin juice as Draco starts, “Receive anything interesting at your doorstep this morning?”

Hiding your smile, you turn to him and furrow your eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Draco rolls his eyes and scoots closer to you. “Did you get my gift?” he asks.

You scoot away from him, teasingly. “No, actually. There was absolutely nothing in front of my doorstep today. A big pile of nothing,” you tell him as Daphne almost spits out her juice. 

Draco recognizes what you are doing as just shakes his head. He then leans in closer and whispers, “This is nowhere near over,” in your ear. The motion brings goosebumps to your skin before he leaves just as quickly as he came.

Sitting there for a moment in silence, you let your heart rate calm down before sipping on your pumpkin juice again and taking a bit of your toast. “I told you this was a war you didn’t want to get involved in,” Daphne sing songs as you kick her underneath the table. “Ow! What’s that for now? Just because you two are stubborn doesn’t mean you have to take it out on my shins!”

-----

And oh Draco wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t the end. If flowers weren’t enough, he sent you boxes of chocolate, a new pair of shoes, a dress he knew you liked from the shoppes at Hogsmeade, and he even had the audacity to get the Frog choir to serenade you at dinner one night. It was getting absurd at this point. But with every gift Draco gave you, you played it off like it was nothing. Although Draco didn’t have to do all of this, you just wanted to push his buttons.

Draco on the other hand was running out of ideas quickly. He has thought of everything under the sun that was creative or show stopping to get you to be his. What was next? Did you want him to buy you Hogwarts castle? He could probably do it if he tried hard enough...

He was beside himself. Tonight, he laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling, just wondering what you wanted out of him. He thought of you in his mind’s eyes and all of his worries seemed to melt away. The thought of you laughing and smiling made his chest warm and head fuzzy. He dreamt of you snuggled up to him on his bed, him kissing the top of your head, drawing small circles into your hip bones. He wanted you to be his so desperately. It was a deep need. He knew that if you asked him, he would go to the ends of the world for you and come back with whatever you wanted. Draco didn’t want to admit it, but deep down he knew he was in love. No other feeling was this strong. 

You sat on your bed, looking at the gifts that Draco had gifted you over the course of the past week. Every single one more beautiful than the previous one. But none of this wanted to make you run into his arms and say yes. That just seemed selfish. Although you wanted to do this to tease Draco and drive him a mid mad, all you really wanted was to hear Draco say the words, “I want you.” That was it. Simple as that. 

But of course, it was in Draco’s nature to overcomplicate things and get showing affection confused with material items. You couldn’t blame him though. That’s how he was raised by his parents. They showed their love for him through gifts and material wealth. But in turn this made Draco believe that that was the only was of showing affection rather than using his words or other actions. 

Sighing, you place his gifts elsewhere, out of sight as you tuck into bed for the night. “Nothing?” Daphne asks as you shake your head. “He’s going to say it. Mark my words, he’ll do it, (Y/N),” she says as you can only hope he will. “He’ll come around.”

-----

The next day rolled around and you weren’t as well rested as you had hoped. You had stayed up tossing and turning, wondering if Draco was thinking of you the way you were thinking of him. You begrudgingly get dressed and imagine what gift Draco has for you today. You’d be surprised if he could top the Frog choir. That would be an achievement. 

But there was no gift today. No flowers, no chocolate, no clothes, no Frog choir, nothing. You waited for something to catch you off guard, but your day was normal. Which kind of worried you. Did he plan something for the evening? But at dinner, there was nothing. You ate your meal with your friends at one of the Slytherin tables, waiting for Draco’s arrival, but nothing. In fact, you didn’t see Draco at all that day. 

You started to get a little concerned. Did something happen to him? Is he sick? Did he get hurt? Is he looking for you? Thoughts flood through your head, but you take your mind off things by engaging in conversation with the people around you.

Finally, you return back to your dormitory for the night, surprised that nothing happened today. Completely uneventful. It was a bummer; you looked forward to teasing Draco again today. 

You slipped into your nightclothes and took your hair down from its ponytail, shaking it out along with the worries and anxieties of the day. As you pull back your sheets, you hear a knock at the door. You had assumed it was Daphne, considering she wasn’t back in the room yet and she had forgotten her keys yet again. “Daph, you have to remember your keys. I won’t always be home,” you look up and don’t see Daphne, but instead Draco. “Oh. Hi.”

Draco looks exhausted. Like he hasn’t gotten sleep at all. He has bags under his eyes and his face looks a little paler than normal. He stands before you in his clothes from yesterday. Your concern for his well being rises. But before you can say anything further, he talks. “I don’t know what else to do to prove that I like you, (Y/N). I’ve done it all, but I’m going to do one last thing and if you still don’t want me after this, then I will stop by all means,” he says as you just watch him. “I thought about what I wanted to say to you all day and all night, but all I can say is this. I am my happiest when I am around you. You never fail to make me laugh. You make my head fuzzy and my chest warm and you make me want to be a better person which is just absurd,” he confesses making you giggle. “I like you, (Y/N). I want you to be mine. Please. Be mine.”

And with that, you waste no time in kissing the poor bloke in front of you. The moment your lips touch, his arms are wrapped around you. Your hands cup his face, pulling him close. The kiss is full of all of the longing and wanting you both had been doing for the past two years. It’s sweet and kind and passionate and hungry all at the same, making your head reel and your stomach do flips. It felt otherworldly. 

As you pull away, the both of you breathless, you say, “That’s all you had to do. You just had to say it.”

Draco’s face drops. “You’re bloody joking,” he huffs. “I spent so much money on all of those gifts and you just wanted me to say some sappy words? That’s the dumbest things I’ve ever heard!” he exclaims as you laugh, kissing him again, sweetly. “I guess it was worth it,” he shrugs. 

That night, you both fall asleep in your bed, Draco cuddling you from behind as you both have the best night sleep of your life. As you sleep, Daphne comes it and notices you two curled up together. “Finally,” she exhales with a smile.

[thekyraalexandriablog]

Kyra’s Top Albums of 2020 🎧

Despite a tragically hectic year, some of my favorite artists managed to release some phenomenal projects in 2020. Here are my top picks (in no particular order):

Girl Eats Sun—Hope Tala • R&B

Tala’s third EP is a picnic on a Spring evening—breezy and warm. I absolutely adored her first two projects, so it’s been a joy hearing how she’s continued to develop her unique style. On Girl Eats Sun, she masterfully serenades you through the different phases of love from dizzying happiness to aching longing. The little things are what elevate this project, from the strings on the wistful Easy to Love Me to Sky’s high-pitched, flowy vocals on the chorus of Mulholland, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my special appreciation for when Tala’s pitch dips and she’s in that pleasant moment between rapping and singing—hello verse two of All My Girls Like to Fight. Despite the title, Tala’s latest project brings the sunshine out for me every time I listen.

Ungodly Hour—Chloe x Halle • R&B

If you somehow managed to miss Chloe x Halle being the darlings of R&B this year, then please allow me to be your introduction to one of 2020’s few must-listen albums of the year. There’s no other way to describe Ungodly Hour than as a treat for R&B fans: from the variety of tempos (there’s the breathtakingly beautiful ballad Wonder What She Thinks of Me as well as the certified party bop Do It), to the timely range of topics from relationships to self-love (the lyric “I had to learn to love me lately” felt especially pertinent in a year without the usual social distractions); the album takes you on a ride. And of course, the whole time you’re wrapped in the surreal pleasure of their talent for unique harmonizations. If you’ve yet to queue this project on your streaming account, do it.

Holy Cow—All Cows Eat Grass • Electronic

Now here’s a group I’ve missed! ACEG projects always excel at layering dreamy synths with smooth beats, and Holy Cow fits right into the herd. One of their slower projects, tracks like Fly and Pillow Talk would easily fit into a summertime playlist with their simple, fun melodies. There’s also great storytelling in the lyrics of this project from the palpable excitement of the VIP section of a nightclub on About Us to the visceral shock of hearing “thank you” in response to “I love you” in a complicated relationship on Pretty Ladies—ouch. There are so many melodic gems on this 35-minute project; welcome to the pasture.

Ice Cream Clones—ROMderful • R&B

I must admit I was late to the party that is ROMderful’s music. I first encountered ROM last year via Twitter where he would post short clips of miniature duplicates of himself playing the various instruments of the track; the full videos can often be viewed on his YouTube channel. Since then, I’ve been enjoying the pleasant rabbit hole that is his Soundcloud (he’s had releases on Soulection) and production credits (he’s worked with artists like DUCKWRTH and Rayana Jay). A talented multi-instrumentalist, ROM’s music is full of fun sounds and soulful melodies, and his social media presence is just as joyful (his current Twitter name is ROMderTHICC). This project is full of very short tracks with infectious hooks. It’s a quick listen, but one I’ve returned to often.

Rumble Pack—Button • R&B

Button is the collaborative union of Allen Love and Bobby Earth—one of my absolute favorite independent R&B artists, and the reason I gave this project a listen. I’m very glad I did. Rumble Pack is brilliantly bizarre: funky synths, blazing features, all interspersed with random gaming commentary. Fans of The Jet Age of Tomorrow (Pyramid Vritra and the Internet’s Matt Martians) and ROMderful (who has a Rumble Pack feature) will surely appreciate the groovy eccentricity of this one. Thanks to this fun, soulful project, I’ve decided I may be a video game fan after all.

Cosmic Lips—Momocurly • Smooth Jazz

If the phrase ‘easy, breezy, beautiful’ were an album, this would be it! Momocurly is Japanese pianist and vocalist Momo Otani and French guitarist Christophe Pannekoucke. Together the two crafted an exquisitely mellow medley of melodies. Cosmic Lips is everything I enjoy in jazz: relaxing, mid-tempo and smooth. Otani’s voice is unique, high and light, and she glides over the tracks like Pannekoucke’s guitar. This project transports, it’s otherworldly.

with HER - EP—Crush • K*R&B

Because I believe Crush is one of the most talented R&B crooners making music right now, I was completely unsurprised to find that his latest project is smooth and soulful. Only five tracks, it’s a short one, and the concept is incredibly cute—each track is a duet with a different woman vocalist comprising a project of unique love ballads. The different vocalists mean each track has a unique sound and lyrically the project is full of heart-warming quotables and seductive one-liners. with HER is a project to fall in love to.

DPR ARCHIVES—DPR Live, DPR Ian, & DPR Cream • K*Rap/K*R&B

Ahh DPR, the eye candy that makes ear candy. DPR, initialism for Dream Perfect Regime, a South Korea-based art collective, blessed fans with this collection of both new and previously released tracks from DPR Live, DPR Ian, and DPR Cream. Though they collaborate extensively, each artist has a distinct sound that diversifies the collection overall—where I would call DPR Ian a pop artist, I’d call DPR Live a Rap/R&B artist, and then there’s DPR Cream whose contributions are purely instrumentals ranging from smooth and R&B-tinged to piano solos. For fans or those dipping their toes in for the first time, the ARCHIVES offer much to enjoy. (Also watch some DPR videos if you haven’t yet, both the men and the art are exceedingly visually pleasing.)

Peace Is Not a Dream—Senpu & ROMderful • R&B

And ROM makes another appearance! This time on a collaborative project—he has quite a few and I’ve enjoyed them all so far. Senpu, who I am less familiar with, contributes production and vocals to this project. Unlike Ice Cream Clones, these tracks feel more fully fledged out, with a verse or two in addition to the chorus. Between the memorable melodies and vocal harmonizations this project is certainly dreamy.

Rare Changes—Mayer Hawthorne • Soul

If you know anything about me, you know Hawthorne is one of my favorite blue-eyed soul artists, and Rare Changes is a lovely retro addition to his catalog. This album is from the seventies, I’m convinced: from the mid-tempo disco grooves to the doo-wop style background vocals. Rare Changes demonstrates Hawthorne’s adeptness at balancing nostalgia with the best parts of modern music, queue this one for a mellow night of slow dancing and slow sipping.

Honorable Mentions (there’s some bops here, but overall the project didn’t move me):

It Is What It Is—Thundercat • Funk

Whimsical & free-flowing as is his style; lyrically musing & haunting, the last track is an absolute clincher to the project.

The Slow Rush—Tame Impala • Alternative

If age-ripened weariness had a soundtrack you could bop to at a festival; Breathe Deeper instantly brings a smile to my face.

Shabrang—Sevdaliza • Alternative

Sevdaliza is one of the few artists who consistently leaves me breathless—her art is daring, thought-provoking, and absurdly beautiful. Shabrang is no different in its presentation and lyricism, though it is musically more traditional than I might expect.

Sin Miedo—Kali Uchis • Reggaeton

I already think Spanish is a beautiful language but Kali just makes it even more so. I’m not the biggest fan of reggaeton (I’m sorry to say it starts to sound repetitive to me after awhile) but the slower songs on this project are lovely: R&B melodies with her breathy, unique vocals. I definitely enjoyed the listen!

SLINGBAUM ONE—Slingbaum • Experimental Jazz

Voyage-19—Bilal x HighBreedMusic • Experimental Jazz

For fans of experimental jazz, get into SLINGBAUM ONE and Voyage-19, both projects are odd in the best sense: more about vibes and transitions than the traditionally cohesive album—I bought both and I’m still enjoying exploring them.

SAWAYAMA—Rina Sawayama • Pop

Future Nostalgia—Dua Lipa • Pop

Pure pop is not my usual fare, but SAWAYAMA, a fun, dance project is truly special—it is genre melting and Rina’s strong voice transforms to expertly complement each new vibe. Also, PLEASE watch the video for XS, it was one of the few things that energized me this year. And then there’s Future Nostalgia, a fun disco-inspired project. Only a couple of the bass lines & melodies caught my ear, but the visual/aesthetic roll out was spectacular.

The Album—Teyana Taylor • R&B

This was my first time sitting down to try a full Taylor project, and while I overall found the tracks repetitive, The Album has some bass lines I enjoyed and Taylor’s voice is beautiful.

[blossom-hwa]

Paint the Warmth of the Sky - SEUNGMIN

We’re at the end! Thank you to all those who stayed for the ride, and I hope you look forward to the drabble game I’ll be hosting soon!

The title includes a pun on Seungmin’s English name (Sky)!! I’m very proud of myself for this :) dedicated to @wingkkun​ because Mai... this may not be a lot of -in your face- Seungmin hot agenda, but you will find that I was inspired by it. I hope this is a suitable (very late) birthday present :D

(made the last two bingos with this: witches/sweater weather/seasonal coffee, sweater weathe/apple picking/costumes!)

Unbeleafable prompt: sweater weather

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, university!au

Triggers: some cursing, slightly (very slightly) suggestive

Word Count: 1.6k

One morning, you tell Seungmin the reasons for your love.

Unbeleafable Masterlist | Stray Kids Drabbles Masterlist

Normally, Seungmin’s the first one in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, pattering around with bare feet on the cold floor as he makes a cup of coffee to start the morning. But today, you wake up first, fully wrapped in your boyfriend’s toasty arms.

A small, bleary smile involuntarily lifts the corners of your mouth as you stare at Seungmin’s peaceful face, eyes fluttered shut, his chest rising slightly as he huffs soft breaths between his lips. Your hand rises to softly stroke his hair and he unconsciously shuffles into your touch, leaning into the warmth even though he’s literally radiating heat from his bare chest. Even the necklace sitting around his throat is warm. For a moment, you relax once again, closing your eyes and indulging in the comfort of the bed just a bit longer.

But morning light is already beginning to seep through the edges of the bedroom curtains, so you make the difficult decision to extract your body from Seungmin’s clingy arms. He murmurs a bit in his sleep but thankfully doesn’t wake up as you climb off the mattress, press a quick kiss to his forehead, and slip into the bathroom.

He must’ve been really tired last night, you muse, brushing your teeth. You know he spent a long time at the library, fixing up last errors on his law paper before submitting, and he also had a few classes and a vocal lesson earlier in the day. He didn’t look too drowsy when he got home, but exhaustion has a way of creeping up on its victims and striking when it’s late.

Poking your head back into the bedroom, you see that he’s still fast asleep, cocooned under the warm blankets. It’s so fucking cute.

Well, he doesn’t have much on his schedule today. He can sleep a bit longer.

It isn’t until you’ve started brewing the coffee that you finally hear water running in the bathroom, and you’re getting eggs out of the fridge for breakfast when Seungmin comes stumbling out of the hall, pajama pants still on his legs, chest now covered in a sweater that someone cropped as a prank (was it Jisung? You feel like it was either him or Felix, though your whole friend group is so chaotic that it’s no surprise you don’t remember the culprit). “You left me alone in bed,” he whines.

“Good morning to you too,” you snip cheerfully, putting the eggs on the counter before turning around to hug him. “You seemed tired yesterday, so I thought I’d let you sleep a bit more.”

He just grumbles something about “cold” and “alone” and buries his face in your shoulder, forcing you to take the brunt of his weight. “Oh, shut up.” You pat his head lightly, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. “You’re a warm person. I was almost overheating when I woke up, wrapped in the blankets and burrito-ed with you.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Seungmin whines. “I don’t know why I love you.”

Ah. There it is. That ever-present bubble of fluttering energy that builds in your chest whenever your lovely Minnie says those three blissful words. A wide smile involuntarily spreads across your face as you push him away just enough to press a short kiss to his lips. “It’s because I love you and make you eggs for breakfast,” you reply, pecking him once more before steering him to the small kitchen table. “Now sit there and wait until the eggs are done.”

Even inside the apartment, the chilly fall air sometimes seeps in through minute cracks in the walls. You shiver a bit next to the kitchen window as a sharp little breeze blows through. It’s okay, though, because the next thing you know, warm, sweater-covered arms are sliding around your waist and Seungmin’s placed his chin on your shoulder, necklace digging slightly into your skin.

“I thought I told you to wait at the table,” you scold with no real bite in your voice. If anything, you just cuddle into his warmth, admiring the strength in his arms as he holds you.

“You looked cold,” he mumbles, breath puffing against your neck.

You turn briefly, just enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you, Minnie.”

Seungmin’s voice, slightly deepened with sleep, sounds like music to your ears. “You’re welcome.”

He hums in your ear, low melodies sending delightful shivers up your neck as he watches you finish the eggs. A few warm minutes later, you’re dishing them onto two plates, handing one over to your boyfriend and taking the other to the table. As Seungmin starts eating, you take a moment just to look at him and appreciate his existence.

The sun has risen enough, now, that its rays stream through the kitchen window and land on Seungmin, sparkling on the thin chain around his neck and almost making him glow. The cropped sweater shows enough of his skin to make your mouth slightly dry, but the sleeves are still long enough that he has sweater paws when he doesn’t have them rolled up his arms (and right now, he doesn’t).

Cute and hot. You grin. The dichotomy is incredible.

“Stop staring at me and eat,” Seungmin says, snapping you out of your reverie. There’s a tinge of pink on his cheeks as his sparkling eyes meet yours, slightly shy and embarrassed and so, so beautiful. “Your eggs are going to get cold.”

“Can’t blame me for appreciating the boyfriend I love so much,” you tease.

To your delight, his flush grows slightly darker and he pouts slightly as you shove food in your mouth. Your pride at flustering him must show, though, because his eyes darken the slightest bit in a way that gets your heart racing. “Oh?” He rests an elbow on the table, putting his chin onto his fist. “What do you appreciate about me, then?”

You swallow, but your eyes burn with love and mischief. “Hm. Maybe it’s how cute you look with your sweaters in cold weather, you know, the sleeves covering your hands.” You flap your own hands to demonstrate and purse your lips as Seungmin grins, mimicking a thinking expression. “Or it’s because you look really good in that cropped one in particular – seriously, I have to thank Felix or Jisung or whoever did it, because the view?” You whistle teasingly, and Seungmin bursts into the loud laughter that always fills your heart. “Ah-maze-ing.”

There are a few moments of laughter that expand through the apartment, filling the air with pleasant joy. “Anything else?” Seungmin asks finally, calming down.

“Fishing for compliments now, aren’t we?” You smirk, resting your chin on your hand. “Well, if I were to sum it up…” You feel your smile muscles relaxing, turning your wide, teasing grin into something smaller but contemplative, soft. “It’d just be your warmth.” His eyes gaze into yours steadily, giving you the courage to continue. “You’re warm, Seungmin. With you, I always feel comfortable. And I always feel loved.”

Seungmin’s smile melts into something so soft, so unbelievably peaceful and happy that even with the fall chill in the air, you feel the same warmth you just spoke of enveloping you in a cozy hug. Then Seungmin comes over and gives you the real thing, pulling you up from the chair and folding you into his arms as you rest your head against his chest.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he murmurs.

You smile into the fabric of his warm, warm sweater. “Yeah, I know.” Leaning back slightly, you gaze into his clear, lovely eyes. “I love you too.”

Sweater paws rise up to your cheeks, Seungmin’s lips pressing against yours smoothly, gently, in a graceful movement practiced over many years of love. You sigh into the kiss, hands sliding up his chest under the sweater, bringing him closer, closer until all you can feel is his body against yours.

It’s pleasant. Lovely. Warm, so warm in a way that doesn’t feel suffocating or heavy, but perfectly balanced so that you feel fuzzy all over, even when you have to break away from Seungmin’s lips to take a breath of air. Twinkling eyes stare into yours, the smile on your boyfriend’s flushed face filled with love, so much love that you didn’t even realize that much could exist. He kisses you again, then again and again, until you’re so dizzy with the bliss of his touch that you can’t think of anything else in the world except Seungmin’s name and how much you love him.

Eventually, though, you pull away, laughing slightly at the pout on Seungmin’s kiss-swollen lips. “Breakfast is definitely cold now,” you note, looking at the rapidly cooling plates left on the table.

“Noooooo,” Seungmin whines, rushing over to his dish and shoveling eggs into his mouth. “This is all your fault.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “My fault?”

“If you hadn’t distracted me with your pretty face, this wouldn’t have happened.” He pouts, a stray bit of egg staining the corner of his lips.

“Hmph.” You lean across the table to wipe it off. “Well, maybe you should learn not to get distracted by –” you motion dramatically to your face – “this beauty right here.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do when you say things like that? Not kiss you?” Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “You would’ve done the same.”

You laugh. “Touché, Minnie. Touché.”

He grins, vindicated. “Can I get another kiss for being right?”

This time, you’re the one who abandons their plate, eyes rolling playfully as you plop yourself onto his lap. And once again, you lose yourself in Seungmin’s touch as lips press against each other in a gentle dance that you know will keep you warm for many years to come. 

[duxhess-kryzewan]

If you are still taking prompts... how about Obi-Wan and Satine at a Senate gala or something and there are a lot of stolen stares and secret touches and our Jedi Master tries to stop himself because he tells himself he can't do that again, he's not a padawan anymore. But then Satine goes somewhere more private and he follows and they basically give into their feelings then and after a passionate angsty make out they leave together. (Basically angsty pining with a bit happy end?)

- illicit affairs - 

If he were being honest, the entire affair was nothing more than for show, something that he had continuously told Anakin though the younger man didn't seem to care in the slightest. He insisted it they attend, rattling off some unconvincing speech about the positive light it would shed on the appearance of the Jedi in the eyes of the galactic republic now that they were no longer fighting in a war and how it had nothing to do with a certain Senator from Naboo attending.

Regardless, he relented, more to keep an eye on Anakin than because he actually thought them showing up would do much for the public opinion of the Jedi. It was nice to not have to worry about imminent death for an evening now that the there had been peace proclaimed throughout the galaxy, even if the entire function was strictly ornamental. Besides, someone had to make sure that Anakin and Padme weren’t being too obvious with what they still thought was a secret affair, 

All in all, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

That was, until he caught sight of her.

How he hadn't realized that she of all people would be there he would never know. It was a peace summit, for force sake. In any other scenario should would be the one heading it, with her glittering blue dress and jewel woven hair. 

"Master Kenobi."

A chill rushes down his spine at the sound of his name coming from her.

"Duchess."

Satine smiles warmly, "How nice it is to be here and see you not as adversaries in a grueling war, but as allies once again."​

She sips her champagne and he swallows thickly.

"You and I have always been allies."

"Oh of course," She says with a sly grin, "I'd even go as far to say we were a far bit more than allies, wouldn't you?"

He spares a glance to the crowd around them, and while it seemed that no one was listening in on their conversation, he knew there were ears everywhere amongst the republics citizens and higher officials and was rather thrown off by how openly she was hinting at their past relationship. Surely if the war hadn’t been his undoing her words might be. 

"Would I?" He asks.

She bats her eyes innocently, "We're friends, are we not?"

Oh yes, she would certainly be the death of him.

"Of course we are."

Where this newfound bravery came from, he doesn't know, but it's so unexpected that when she reaches forward and smooths down the front of his robes all he can do is freeze.

"A pleasure to see you as always, Master Kenobi."

And with that she turns, fading into the crowd and despite how wildly inappropriate it was (downright scandalous, really) he couldn't tear his eyes off of her, even as she made her way through groups of senators and socialites alike. And it seemed she couldn't look away either, because every time he caught sight of her she was already looking back at him.

So it became a silent game, with the two of them shuffling around the room in a forbidden dance of distance, socializing with whoever crossed their path. But she was always there, watching him watch her as she politely turned down advances of drunk senators and chatted giddily with Padme. Why he ever lets Anakin talk him into anything, he'll never know. The younger Jedi may have flagrant disregard for the rules of no attachment, but he wasn't one to follow the same trend even with Satine here.

Not anymore, at least.

A hand brushes gently against his arm; how had she managed to sneak up on him like that? His thoughts were getting the best of him, never would he be so distracted under any normal circumstance but there she was, pulling his mind in a million different directions. He had been so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn't realize she was passing by him until he felt her skin against his.

"Someone's feeling rather bold." He mutters to himself. ​Never would he have guessed that she would be the one to so dangerously flirt with him in the presence of anyone else. Satine was nothing if not a figure of propriety and decorum. Never has she been one to tip toe along the lines of something so illicit as running the risk of exposing...whatever it was that they were.

He sees Anakin chatting happily with Bail Organa and Padme, Ahsoka standing at his side with a pleasant smile on her face. It seemed that the young Padawan was also roped into attending like he was. How lucky she is not to be weighed down by the threat of exposing a less than acceptable relationship with a diplomatic figure. Not that Anakin seemed to be carrying that too heavily; the young man seemed more than happy to hold what should be a hefty burden.

In another life perhaps Obi-Wan would have been able to do the same; love Satine in tandem with his devotion to the order. But that was not the choice that they made.   

Out of the corner of his eye the flash of Satine's blue gown catches his attention as she slips silently through one of the rooms exits. A brief glance at the time lets him know that it's much too soon for the party to be over, and he knows that she wouldn't be headed back to Mandalore prematurely. She had complained to him more than once about never having enough time to secure enough diplomatic allies for her planet.

And he knows its a bad idea, a horrible idea really, to make his way towards the same exit. And he knows its an even worse idea to actively feel out through the force to find her exact location, because that's truly a choice that he can not return from, but he does anyway.

The building the summit had been arranged in was one of the older ones found in the city; built when the civilization there had first been established. He never saw much use for it within a warring galaxy, there were too many lives being lost outside for anyone to ever consider holding something frivolous as an over glorified party, but here they were, and it seemed that Satine was more than enticed by the primitive designs of the corridors and all that they hold. Not that he can blame her for taking a break to wander, he more than anyone gets tired of the false niceties and stuffy atmosphere that politicians seem to carry with them.

"The festivities not lively enough for you?" He says. If she was unaware of his presence she showed no sign of surprise when he spoke.

"Drunken Senators and war torn socialites do tend to drain a person after a while, and I'm no use to anyone if I'm stuck fending off advances from entitled men instead of securing our independence from our adversaries. Even now I have to resort to talking my way into making political allies instead of just being allowed to rule my planet unbothered."

He chuckles. It was true, though he suspects that she was well versed in the art of talking her way in and out of any conversation.

"Valid point," He concludes, "Such is a prime example of why I don’t like to get involved with politics. Though I am glad you were able to attend. I'd rather it not be years in between us seeing each other again like last time."

There's something both soft and wicked swimming around in her eyes and it both excites and terrifies him.

“I miss you terribly some days,” She admits, “Seeing you brings me a great deal joy, I admit.”

“Me too.”

Looking back, he's not entirely certain who made the first move. He would like to say it was her, and that he had the self restraint not to initiate something so scandalous and code breaking, but he would be lying if he said he was certain it wasn't him. But the end result was still the same, with his hands clinging desperately to her waist and her fingers tangling in his hair. It had been so long since someone had touched him so lovingly and while somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear a voice screaming at him for going against the code he holds so dear, every other sense within him didn't care in the slightest.

"I'm here until tomorrow evening," she whispers breathlessly against his lips, kissing him again before continuing, "Don't leave me tonight, please."

How could he deny her anything? All he’s ever done was leave her in the past; how could he ever take such a simple request away from her?

He grips her hip bones between his hands and pulls her closer to him, his lips dipping down to her exposed neck and the contact produces a contended sigh from her and he wonders how a single sound can fill him with so much warmth. It unlocks a newfound happiness he didn’t know was possible just by knowing he’s the one making her feel this way.  

He kisses her neck one, two, three times before trailing back up to her cheek, pausing to whisper lovingly in her ear, "I wouldn't dare."

[goldandlights]

of cherries and dandelions

aka lil virgin!Jas biting off more than he can chew when he propositions Geralt shortly after Posada :(

rating: explicit pairing: geraskier (pre-relationship? it could be read as casual sex) tags: top!Geralt, bottom!Jaskier, first time, sex toys, communication failure, angst and fluff

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

It’s summer in Lyria, a mild and pleasant evening, when Jaskier leans over to Geralt and croons some saucy verse about fucking in his ear. There are no other patrons to entertain in the tavern and the young bard honestly expects nothing but the usual glaring and growling from his sourly companion. Even 2 months into their shared travels, the Witcher seems to barely tolerate his presence. Pity... but hey, Jaskier is working on it.

Geralt is as fine a specimen as he has ever seen; tall, broad and strong , with thick arms and even thicker thighs that make the bardling’s mouth water when he imagines sinking down between them. (And the hair! The eyes! -oh, his eyes… )

Between the power to crush the bones in a human’s body, reflexes so fast he can cut an arrow out of the air and senses so acute they can pick up on a mouse rustling through the underbrush half a mile away, the white-haired Witcher was undoubtedly created to be a finely-tuned killing-machine. But Jaskier can find no trace of fear within himself.

In their time together, Geralt has shown himself to be noble and quietly compassionate above all else, avoiding confrontation and violence to the point where he’d rather leave an inn, meal unfinished and bed paid-for but unused, than defend himself against those who hurl abuse (and sometimes sharp objects) at him.

It’s just not fair and so Jaskier has sworn to do anything in his power to improve the situation.

It also makes the sizzling attraction all the worse.

Not only is Geralt stupidly hot, but he’s also kind and oddly charming and it messes with the poor bard quite terribly. He can’t stop sending winks and overt, suggestive glances Geralt’s way. Can’t stop spewing flirtatious remarks and innuendo. The young man has yet to learn how to be anything other than obvious about his desire but he does already know that confidence is the name of the game.

Still, Geralt is Geralt. Tough and experienced and probably entirely straight .

So even if the mental image of all that juicy bulk pressing him down into the sheets makes Jaskier’s prick twitch and leak, he does not expect his actions to incite a response in the other man at all.

That’s his first misjudgement.

Because when faced with the 5th overt come-on in as many hours, for the 6th week in a row, Geralt huffs, rolls his eyes and- stands up?

“Come on, then,” He says gruffly, already turning towards the stairs and Jaskier’s brain grinds to a sudden, jarring halt.

Wait, what.

He stands frozen, gaping unattractively until Geralt notices his hesitation and turns around with a raised eyebrow.

“Or are you all bark and no bite after all?”

Well.

Barely 18 and still rather fresh out of Oxenfurt, Jaskier has been with a whole lot of three women and sucked cock exactly once . -under the watchful eyes of those that still knew him as Julian there hadn’t been many opportunities to experiment.

Still, the bard had his fingers, fantasies and a lovely little toy pulled from a heap of bits and bobs at a novelty shop in Vizima.

It was maybe 6 inches long with a conveniently flared base and a lovely bulge on the upper half. Add just a bit of oil and it slides in easily, the comfortable stretch setting every nerve alight. Jaskier enjoys having it in, even when he’s not hard or trying to get off, and plays with it whenever he can. It’s just so nice to be full, to clench around it, to dream of his body giving a lover pleasure this way.

Is this the opportunity he’d been waiting for? Possibly. If it is though, it’s fast slipping through his fingers. With a grunt as if to say I knew it , Geralt turns and continues his way up the stairs. Shit.

Gathering all his courage, Jaskier shakes himself out of his stupor and stumbles forwards.

When the door to their room falls shut behind him, the bard is already fully hard, blushing furiously at his own over-eagerness when Geralt takes one look at the tent in his breeches and raises a perfectly shaped brow.

Jaskier knows he mustn’t let the nervous energy twisting in his gut bubble over. The Witcher can smell emotion, at least basic ones like joy or fear, and he’ll notice any uncertainty the bard projects. How would he react? Surely Geralt has no use for an inexperienced bed-partner.

Really, Jaskier feels quite out of his depth. In their tiny room, the burly Witcher is doubly imposing and the bard has no frame of reference for how such things between men are carried out. Deciding it’s best not to lose momentum, he puts his lute down against the wall and steps up to where Geralt is standing next to the bed.

Confidence, Jaskier.

He pushes right into the man’s space and kisses him, forcefully, hands going up to grab at the broad chest he’s been staring at lustily for weeks. Immediately, Geralt is kissing back, huge hands settling on Jaskier’s waist.

Biting and sucking on soft, plush lips, he forces Jaskier back a step, then another, curbing any attempt to crowd the Witcher towards the mattress. The young man, however, is too distracted to worry about the shifting power balance. He has two handfuls of Geralt’s thick, bulging pecs to bind his attention and, oh, they’re tensing deliciously as a growl rumbles from the Witcher’s throat.

“I’m not one of your milk-maids, Jas,” he bites out and the bard finds himself picked up and damn near thrown onto the bed as though he weighs nothing at all.

After two months of yearning and awkward boners, the youthful bardling finally gets his wish of being buried alive under 200 pounds of excitable Witcher, keening and whining as he’s absolutely ravished . Either Geralt also has some sexual frustration to burn through or he’s always that intense -at least it leaves no room for nervousness.

Within minutes, Jaskier’s doublet and undershirt have been shoved off and the Witcher’s face is buried in the hair on his chest, breathing him in, sword-calloused fingers pulling and pinching at the bard’s nipples. Pain transforms into tingling pleasure and Jaskier barely contains a cry.

He had never thought to play with his chest this way; a most grievous oversight. When Geralt’s mouth latches onto one of the stiff little nubs, licking and sucking, eager little mewls start spilling from Jaskier’s mouth. Sweet Melitele . If anything, he seems to be the milk-maid in this scenario.

There’s nothing soft about the body atop of him, nothing that gives to the frenzied clutch of his hands. Geralt has divested himself of his shirt as well and Jaskier runs his hands mindlessly over the skin he can reach, drinking in the unfamiliar sensations of coarse hair and scarring under his fingertips.

The urge to spread his legs like a 3 ducat whore is a bit embarrassing but undeniable. And it’s really not fair when life rewards his shamelessness with a Witcher’s hard belly pushing down onto his prick. Jaskier nearly spills then and there from the friction. He’s so fucking hard and they haven’t even done anything yet.

If Geralt notices the wet spot at the front of his trousers, he doesn’t say anything -which is a rather small mercy overall, considering the thoughtful look the older man levels at Jaskier when he draws back, sitting up between wantonly splayed thighs to examine the young body underneath him.

“Sensitive, are you?” Geralt murmurs, drawing his calloused palms down the length of Jaskier’s quivering body.

They’re warm, so warm as they run along his vulnerable belly and sides. A gentle, soothing pressure which brings momentary respite from the urgent throbbing between Jaskier’s legs. Goosebumps prickle over his skin.

Jaskier moans breathlessly, arching his back as Geralt rubs his thumb over the soft little bump below his navel. It is answer enough.

To distract and discourage further questioning, Jaskier catches one of the Witcher’s thick wrists in one hand and makes grabby motions with the other. Even when not pitted against a Witcher’s heightened senses, Jaskier is a terrible liar. He worries if Geralt starts asking questions, the truth about his previous experience -or lack thereof- will slip out.

He’s in luck though; Geralt looks surprised but simply obliges the wordless demand.

Happily buried under a mountain of Witcher again, Jaskier seeks out his slightly chapped lips for another lovely kiss. It’s addictive. Their mouths meet languidly, and he relishes in the opportunity to card his fingers through the other man’s beautiful white hair.

Geralt, surprisingly, does not protest and does not, for the moment, make any motions towards getting on with the programme. He actually seems quite happy to stay in that position for a bit, simply enjoying the warmth and closeness of their bodies as Jaskier works to calm his racing heart.

--------

“I want to see you suck my cock.”

Spoken softly into the unexpectedly peaceful silence, Geralt’s murmur is carefully undemanding. His hungrily roaming hands, however, give away the desire hidden underneath. Nodding to the unspoken request, Jaskier lets go of the Witcher’s soft tresses to watch him undress.

That’s when Jaskier realises his second misjudgement of the night.

He knows himself to be quite average in length and girth. With his little glass toy being similarly sized, Jaskier had thus felt quite safe in the belief that, whatever his first proper male conquest was packing, he’d be able to handle it just fine.

Except that nothing about Geralt was ever average. Not his appearance, not his strength and not, apparently, his fucking dick.

>>>>> read the rest on ao3

[little-ideas]

Mankai Dumbasses

THIS IS ALL I’VE GOT FOR NOW BUT THESE MORONS ARE SO FUCKING FUNNY!!! 🤣 Their dynamic is glorious. Keep at it you fools ❤

These assholes are dense as fuck and almost don't get together. Almost

Taichi has definitely complained about the tension between these 2 multiple times

It's a miracle he hasn't just shouted it at them, but he's probably scared of what the 2 of them would do

Omi has a surprising mean/playful streak and there's no guarantee he'd intervene on Taichi's behalf

Sakyo won't step in unless things get bad

The handcuffs have happened more than once

It's never any more pleasant these later times. They may notice some weird feelings/reactions -they just think it's their disdain for one another Fucking morons

Sakoda has taught Banri some techniques for when he tries to engage in physical fights with Juza. Juza always wins anyway

Izumi and Sakyo question their rooming of the two all the time

However, they are pretty respectful of each others' stuff

This is mostly from a bad experience whereupon the 2 made a truce

The truce ONLY applies to their possessions

Banri draws dicks on Juza's scripts

It doesn't matter what they say, their families (sans Kumon) only see them as best friends. They've met the other's parents after a show, and now Banri's parents and sister give Juza their regards whenever Banri calls them

Juza and Kumon will end up bringing back extra sweets for Banri from their mother.

For all the shit Banri gave Juza about his motorcycle, he loves to ride on it

Juza is probably one of the safest/most cautious drivers in Mankai

The two have definitely had the cops called on them when riding together though

May have raced each other once or twice

Omi oversaw it might have even suggested the location so they don't get caught 

It was because of Sakoda's encouragement and he wanted them to be safe

Juza has strawberry flavored toothpaste and Banri won't shut up about it

The two got banned from the kitchen once when Juza wanted to make sweets and Banri decided to prove he was better. They ended up with ingredients everywhere. No one ever saw Omi angry before then. If the two don't have someone else around, they're required to cook in different kitchens.

Banri is a petty bastard who holds grudges

Juza is quick to forgive everyone BUT Banri

They have logs where they chronicle what the other's done to bother them this time

Izumi made them get rid of them when she found out

Banri still keeps one and eventually entries start including things like "He looks almost as good as I do when he smiles and "I keep challenging him to fights but am still losing" + something about Juza's muscles

Have had competitions where they try to out-romance the other, claiming they'd be the better partner

Only stopped because the entirety of Summer Troupe yelled at them to "get a room"

That anime where the students try to scientifically figure out what love is? That was them

They now have some results + feelings to think over

For all their bickering, when the other is truly down, they can tell and will leave the other alone or awkwardly try to do something nice

As their feelings develop, they'll start doing nice things for each other

Juza leaves Banri some sweets (he still refuses the kamebuns) or pick him up from school

Banri helps Juza study

Izumi makes them do tons of trust/partner exercises

They either nail or fail them. There is no in-between

Banri tried to get Juza to unsuspectingly eat wasabi kitkats, but failed because Juza could immediately tell what kind it was by the color

Muku, Sakyo, and Omi get involved with Juza's figuring out his feelings

Muku is flustered but holds it in since it's Juza

Omi is supportive and listens

Sakyo doesn't understand why Muku insisted he be present, but he is and listens

The one who flat out identifies Juza's feelings as romantic

Banri is more stubborn and it's not until his sister or Itaru say something that he confronts his feelings

Juza might wait around forever, but Banri doesn't, so as soon as he's come to terms with his feelings, he approaches Juza

Probably looks pissed off as hell and Juza prepares to fight him

Nope. Just Banri bitching about what Juza does to him and demanding he kiss him "I'll punch you on the lips with my lips!"

Once they're an item, the dorm grows to fear any argument containing the phases:

Oh yeah?

Prove it

Make me

Shut up

What are you going to do about it?

I hate your fucking face

Stop being so goddamn hot

Basically anything that involves the 2 yelling at each other

Because it always ends with them making out

Unless they start when Muku or Kumon are in the room -Juza has enough self-awareness around family

Kumon is so conflicted when Banri and Juza reveal they're a couple

Kumon's probably the only one who's shocked at the news

Azuma, Yuki, and Citron win the betting pool

OMI SITS THEM DOWN FOR THE TALK™ AND RESPECTING THE SURROUNDING DORM ROOMS Poor Taichi

Juza's so red. So is Banri but he kind of finds it funny

Banri is whipped for Juza

Will still tease Juza for his love of sweets, but definitely didn't spend hours watching videos and reading recipes to make and decorate a cake for him. Of course not

If Banri is somehow still receiving Valentine's chocolates, will give them all to Juza

Juza purposefully picks out some of the most gaudy attire for Banri and he always loves it wtf Banri

At this point Juza's taken it as a personal challenge to find something even Banri won't wear

Juza doesn't wear Banri's clothes, but Banri will steal his. The first time he did it, Yuki wept with joy thinking Banri had finally seen the fashion light. He wept again upon learning they were Juza's clothes and now tries to bribe Juza into arranging Banri's outfits

Tenma refuses to go to karaoke with only Banri and Juza. They literally will not stop unless kicked out because Banri thinks Juza's voice is hot as fuck

Karaoke is the only time he'll admit this

Tsuzuru is constantly conflicted on whether to write a romance with Banri & Juza as leads

Itaru sometimes calls Juza over to distract Banri when they're gaming. Has a 50/50 chance of backfiring as Banri wants to showoff in front of Juza

Unless Juza initiates any sort of skinship with Banri, then Banri short-circuits

Banri usually initiates any form of affection, so becomes super compliant and soft if Juza does it

Banri gets a little less self-centered as he gets older, but especially at the beginning would attempt to encourage Juza/refute his negative thoughts by saying things like, "Well I'm good at × and you’re just slightly better at it than me, so you're good at it too!"

Aka Banri really sucks at encouraging people

If Banri refuses or doesn't care about celebrating his birthday, Juza will get Mankai to help put together a joint party for Banri and him

They only tell Banri it's for Juza (of course they gave Banri gifts/did something small on Banri's birthday so he knows they care about him)

Banri doesn't cry what are you talking about?

They have joint celebrations every year since then

They both have secret stashes of shoujo manga & romance books for ideas on dates and how to be "proper" partners to each other

Kamekichi outs them

[meat--grindr]

Hi I saw that your request thingy was open so I was wondering if maybe you can do a headcannon or a small fic of a child reader leaving a cute Valentine's day card for Harry Warden? Just cute fluff?

First of all, let me apologize for how long this has taken. I wish I could say that I’ve been really busy, but in truth, I just haven’t felt like writing these last few days. but we’re back at it now! Secondly, I’m really sorry if this isn’t exactly what you were looking for. I really struggle to write children, so I decided to take this prompt from a more neutral perspective, though it does low-key focus more on Harry. Fluff is also really not my forte, and things get a little dark for a moment, but I promise it’ll turn out fine! I’m really excited about getting to write for Warden though, because I’m actually from the area this film was shot! As such, we only respect the 1981 version in this household! People from the island speak in an…interesting way that I couldn’t help but include in this…so sorry if it sounds a little goofy or makes anything confusing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Harry Warden Receives a Valentine’s Card from a Child

·       The rattling of the thick brass keys against the door and the heavy clunk of the lock clicking open echoed through the near-empty hospital room. With the faintest whisper of white trousers, the orderly, a portly fellow with a ruddy, wind-burnt complexion entered the room. Harry Warden watched him passively from his perch upon the bed, which was already made up neatly. His sleep clothes were folded and ready to be laundered, waiting atop the desk to be picked up by the laundry crew. The orderly caught Harry’s gaze and started violently, “Jumpin’ Jeez-us, Warden!”

·       A second orderly, younger than the first, though cursed with a wicked case of smoker’s cough and a face like a can of worms, poked his head in the room. “'Sgo-in-on in here?”

·       It wasn’t unusual for Harry to rise and ready himself for the day long before the orderlies came around to release him from his room. It was a habit from his mining days he had been unable to break, with only one exception. In the days leading up to the anniversary of the accident and the massacre that had followed, he remained in bed long after he was called. On more than one occasion, he was forcibly removed from beneath the covers after repeatedly refusing to get up and take his medication. During this time, he became moody, despondent, and difficult; prone to outbursts of violence. Especially in the mornings.

·       Yet here he was on the 11th of February, bright eyed and bushy tailed, a pleasant smile on his face at 6:30 A.M. “Bill, Dave. How she goin’ b’ys?”

·       The first orderly, Bill, gaped for a moment, floundering for a response. Dave shouldered into the room, a small paper cup in his hand, saving his partner from his own dumbfounded shock. “Well, yer full of piss and vinegar today, ain’tcha?” He thrust a little paper cup out towards Harry, who took it with a nod of appreciation, downing the three pills inside. They scraped down his dry throat, but he didn’t complain.

·       “I think I’ll spend the morning in the common area, if that’s fine by you.”

·       Dave cast an incredulous glance over his shoulder at Bill. “Like fun, Harry. You know we can’t letcha down there this time of year.”

·       Bill looked Harry up and down, clearly contemplating something for a long moment. “Well, why not?”

·       Dave swung around to face him, apparently forgetting how foolish it was to turn your back on Harry Warden at the best of times. “Because he’s -” Then he stopped. He was going to say, ‘Because he’s in his February mood,’ But that wasn’t true. Warden seemed to be in very good spirits. He wasn’t exhibiting any of the behaviours that would require them to keep him separate from the other patients...so, why couldn’t they?

·       He rolled the idea around in his head for a moment or two, before turning back to Harry. “Alright, but one peep out of you and you’ll be pickin’ yer teeth off the floor with two broken arms, you hear me?”

·       Harry merely nodded, smiling placidly up at him, apparently unperturbed by the threats. Dave couldn’t shake the feeling that the murderous miner was up to something. He swiped a hand across his face, muttering, “Christ, I’m croakin’ for a cigarette,” as he stalked out of the room.

·       Bill motioned for Harry to follow. “I’ll take you down there now.”

·       But as they approached, the door, he thrust one thick arm out, blocking Harry’s path. “Seriously, Warden. Be on your best behaviour. People get jumpy around you this time of year, y'know.” Despite himself, he had grown to like the little man, and seeing his patients treated roughly never sat well with him, though there was little he could do about it.

·       Harry set his jaw, the pleasant expression chased from his face, replaced by an unreadable blankness, though his eyes flashed angrily, his voice was calm. “I know.”

·       Bill held his steely gaze for a long moment, before dropping his arm, and leading Harry through the twisting maze of hospital halls.

---

·       Upon arriving in the common area, Harry Warden settled into an armchair, tucked into the furthest corner. He settled quickly, turning his attention to the others in the room. His eyes passed quickly over the nurses and orderlies who were keeping watch over room – keeping watch over him. He could feel their eyes on him, but he paid them little mind, preferring instead to watch the other inmates as they read, drew, or wandered the room chatting either to one another or no one in particular.

·       The staff eyed him warily, content to leave him alone, but not unsupervised. The patients seemed unconcerned with the sudden appearance of the man, but calm and collected as he may be the nurses were unconvinced the day would pass without incident.

·       Though as the hours passed, one by one, they were distracted with other tasks, drawn into tiny disputes between other patients, or conversations with each other. By the mid-afternoon, they had all but forgotten that he was even there. He had yet to move from his chair in the corner, absorbed now in a game of solitaire he had spread out on the low table before him.

·       He did not look up when two new figures entered the room, hand-in-hand. One was tall, wearing a thick woolen coat and sensible shoes, while the other was very small, bundled tight in a jacket, mittens, and a hat: a mother and her child. Both figures were shivering from the cold and covered in a fine dusting of snow, which quickly began to melt in the warmth of the room.

·       Had he had looked up, Harry would have recognized the woman. She was a nurse, though clearly off the clock as she was without her uniform. He would not have recognized the child – he hadn’t known she had one, not that he cared.

·       Several of the patients exclaimed with delight at the sight of the pair. Unbeknownst to Harry, as he rarely spent any time in the common areas, she would often bring her child in to visit with the more well-behaved residents of the hospital. They usually made their rounds during the holiday seasons, bringing bags of goodies at Halloween and cookies for Christmas.

·       Today the child held a wicker basket in their tiny hands. It was almost too big for them to carry, but they managed to totter over to the nurses’ desk and plop it down on the ground. They began to pull at their mittens, tearing the hat from their head, and wriggling out of their coat.

·       When they were finished, their winter things lying in a sopping pile on the floor, they looked up to their mother for permission to begin distributing their presents.

·       With a fond gleam in her eyes, she nodded, and the child squealed with delight. As their mother bent to pick up the clothes they had discarded, they dug into the basket with both hands, coming out with a little stack of handmade cards. Each one was fringed with white lace trimming, a large red heart, struck through with Cupid’s arrow proudly displayed on the front.

·       One by one, the Valentine’s were placed into patients’ hands with a bright smile and a tight hug. The childish joy that lit up the room as the cards were distributed was such that no one even thought of Harry until it was too late.

·       The child took stock of the room and noticed only one set of hands without a card. They skipped back to the basket and picked out the final card. With the thick pink paper clutched in their hands, they approached the man in the corner.

·       It was one of the nurses who spotted the child, mere footsteps away from Harry Warden, Valentine in hand. If there was one man on Earth that child should not have been alone with in that moment, it was Harry Warden. She gasped, hands flying up to her mouth.

·       The child’s mother, along with the other staff members turned to see the child reaching out, extending the card toward the Miner, the Valentine’s Killer, and she nearly screamed. Before she was even aware of what she was doing, she was moving, rushing toward her child, terror coursing through her, sharp and icy-cold.

·       Looking up from his game, the pink card filled his vision. The red heart seemed to pulse as though it was alive, and a high-pitched ringing filled his ears. His breathing quickened, as his lungs began to feel thicker, full of dust, like they had been when the mine collapsed on top of him.

·       For a moment, Harry Warden’s vision went red, and rage built like steam in his chest. Lord Thunderin’ Frig…

·       His fingers curled into a fist, longing for his pickaxe, knuckles cracking as he did so. The child remained blissfully ignorant of the danger they were in. They giggled, thrusting the card out toward him, “Here, Mister!”

·       Their voice cut through the fog gathering in his mind, and he shook his head, looking down at the child in bewilderment.

·       “Take it! Taaake it! I made it special juss’ f’r youuu!”

·       Doing as he was told, almost without thinking, he reached out and took the card. His hands shook as he opened it and read the little poem inside, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you! Happy Valentine's Day!'

·       The writing was neat and precise, clearly the work of an adult, but the child had signed it in shaky, messy scribbles near the bottom right corner. It was completely illegible, but it made Harry smile, nonetheless.

·       He raised his hand and ruffled the child’s hair just as their mother, followed closely behind by the nurses and orderlies arrived to apprehend him, “Thank you, kiddo.”

·       Their mother quickly placed herself between her child and Harry, her chest rising and falling heavily. Two spots of livid colour stood out high on her cheekbones.

·       Harry held his hands up in an attempt to placate the frantic woman. “No harm done.”

·       She looked unconvinced and began to shoo her child back towards the nurses’ desk, eager to put some space between the unlikely friends. “I think it’s time we get going. Say 'goodbye' to everyone.”

·       “But Momma! I didn’t get my hug!”

·       “That’s okay, sweetheart. Mr. Warden doesn’t like hugs.” She shot him a dark look over her shoulder, and Harry said nothing in return. He did, however, keep his eyes trained on the child as they said their goodbyes and their mother fussed over them. When coats had been rebuttoned and mittens placed back on tiny hands, the child turned back to Harry and waved.

·       He smiled and waved back.

·       The orderlies and nurses still hovered nearby, completely floored by what they had just witnessed and unsure of what to do next. All eyes remained trained on Harry Warden.

·       He stood, reading the card once more before pocketing it.

·       One of the nurses found her voice: “You…uh…gave us quite the scare, Harry.”

·       “Ah, the kid didn’t mean no harm. Anyway, it’s the dance I can’t fuckin’ stand,” he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the new-found treasure in his pocket, “I’d like to go back to my room now. I want to hang this on my wall.”

[dragonswithjetpacks]

A short piece where Ferelith considers throwing rocks at Astarion in the beginning of their adventure.

Skipping Stones

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: When Ferelith is bothered by the outcomes of the day, she turns to the lake to grant her some comfort.

Notes: Honestly... this sparked by the idea of wanting to punch the druids in the face. It also gives a bit more to the beginnings of their "friendship", though not so hostile just yet.

This one is SFW folks. :3

Read here on Ao3.

"You seem a little put off this evening," he said, leaning back against the log, warming the bottoms of his boots by the fire.

Ferelith narrowed her eyes at him, not saying a word. Her skepticism from that morning had not left.

"Fine," he rose his hands in the air. "It's not as if you're a delight to talk to, anyway."

"Provoking her won't get a response," Shadowheart muttered as she passed by.

She was wrong, but Ferelith appreciated the statement nonetheless. And oddly, she had the feeling Astarion knew this as well because the smirk never left his face as his eyes continued to stalk her. The uneasiness made her shift, the pressure of his gaze causing her to turn her back. There were times she was disgusted by the way he openly admired her, his eyes filled with no shame as they stretched over her body. She knew she wasn't the only that felt it. Still, there was no point in bringing further attention to it. It would only bring him more joy to know they suffer at a simple glance.

Frustrated, but not enough to make anything of it, she began to open her books and search both them and her mind for a solution to the druid problem she had encountered that morning. The night had passed, and she had drown herself in words, lost with only the fire crackling like whispers in her ear. Between the shouting in her head and the words at her fingertips, she had been well distracted. By the time she came to, it had been long past nightfall. Possibly even midnight. She looked about her with the realization that no one was awake. And if they were, they were not nearby. Shutting her book quietly, she rose to cross the camp, careful on her feet.

There was a small lake nearby in which she had found to be comforting at times. During nights, just like this, she took off her boots. She dipped her bare feet into the water. And she let the rise and fall of the water lapping the bank wash over her toes. She walked along the water's edge, picking up stones whether they were pretty or simply just flat. She would put a few in her pocket and the others she palmed in her hands. Looking back to see if the camp had stirred, she smiled knowing she was completely alone. The stones in her hand flew across the lake, skipping once, twice, a third, and sometimes even a fourth time. On her lucky nights, she could get at most six. This was not one of those times, however. But the fourth skip that came from her hand made her smile with a sense of peace.

"What are you doing?" a voice interrupted from the reeds.

Ferelith did not turn but gripped her stones a bit tighter. If she threw them in his direction, perhaps he would go away. But no, she clenched them tighter and the sound of his footsteps grew close.

"Skipping stones," she answered flatly.

"Well, your skipping is disrupting my peace and quiet."

She did not answer, throwing a stone into the air and catching it, her thoughts dwelling on what he would do if one struck him in the head.

"Do you know how obnoxious that splashing is?"

Again, she threw the stone up in the air, a smile creeping onto her face as she imagined it skipping right onto his temple. But the stone did not come back down. Astarion had come around her, and she underestimated his nimbleness. He held the rock up to her, a stern look on his face.

"I believe that's enough," he said, his voice low as if he had won.

Ferelith reached into her pocket pulling out three more stones. She smiled at him, turning back to the lake and skipping the next stone. He groaned with slumped shoulders, his face exasperated and his face filled with agitation.

"What is the point?" he shouted after her when he noticed her striding away.

"You throw them," she called over her shoulder.

"You- I know... with all the flames in the Nine Hells..."

The sound of shifting rocks and the sloppy squishing of boots followed behind her. Astarion came walking, rather awkwardly, up next to her, full of huff and ready to spout whatever nonsense he had. Before he could speak, Ferelith held up her rock.

"You hold it like this," she held it up, her thumb and index finger cradling the flat stone. "And you throw it from your hip. But you have to spin it... so it skips across the water."

And she tossed it. Astarion watched as it bounced three times before dipping down.

"Hardly an impressive feat," he snarled.

"Then you try it," she retorted with crossed arms.

He looked down at the rock he had stolen from her, turning it over with his finger tips. What a silly game for people who didn't know of luxury and leisure. It was ridiculous for her to even suggest he would be slightly interested. And it wasn't that he couldn't do it, because he most certainly could... but he didn't want to lower himself to that sort of stature. Then again... the condescending look Ferelith gave him made him pause. He placed his fingers on the rock as she had showed him. He looked up as she gave an approving nod. Turning to the lake, he cursed under his breath. Then he threw it.

It skipped once... twice... three times... and then sunk into the depths.

Ferelith was careful about observing his reaction. His eyes grew wide with excitement, a smiling forming... but then quickly fading. His hands fell to his lap with a quick disapproving shake of his head.

"See?" he leaned toward her. "Nothing to it."

"It's relaxing," she handed him the rest of the rocks in her pocket.

Astarion looked down at them, all unique in their own way. Some were dark. Some were slick. There was one he found with a hole in the center. He picked that up and tucked it into his pocket. It would be of use later on. As for the rest, he looked at puzzled but realized Ferelith was searching the bank for more. She had a keen eye as she had already picked up three amidst his confoundment.

"Why did you give these to me?"

"I don't know," she said, brushing her long black hair over her shoulder as she stared at the ground. "As uptight as you, maybe you'd enjoy skipping a few."

"Uptight," he grimaced. "I'm sorry you're the one that has been unpleasant to deal with as of late."

"Have I ever been pleasant?" she glanced up at him.

Astarion could not tell if she was teasing or not. And she knew it best that it remain a mystery. She was right, however. Ferelith was not an easy person to cope with. Her demeanor was misanthropic, often resulting in a night spent alone. Not that anyone else in the camp was talkative, but Ferelith was damn near close to the bottom of the list. The only one who had gotten a word from her was Gale. And he felt that tinge, that stab of jealousy each time he could get a sentence from her. But as he could recall, other than that, no. She was not pleasant. And she took his silence as an agreement to that.

"I won't tell anyone," she straightened up, finally having enough rocks in her hands.

"Why would you tell anyone?" his tone mocked her.

Again, she shrugged, but knew he would squirm if she even mentioned he was near her for longer than five minutes doing anything but making an attempt to seduce her. And for a minute as she ignored his presence, she thought he had left. Then heard the gentle splash of a rock skipping a few times over the water from his hand. She turned in his direction with simple nod before proceeding with her own throws.

"Could you steal something for me?" she asked suddenly, disrupting the silence.

The shock of her question cause him to look her, if even just to assure it came from her very mouth. She did not acknowledge him. And though he wasn't entirely convinced, he was certain she said it.

"I didn't know we were close enough to be asking favors, my dear," he retorted.

"We're not," her tone was harsh. "But the idol... could you steal it?"

"From the druid camp?" his arm lowered. "My, my... we are spiteful, aren't we?"

Eyes closed, clenched fists, and a deep sigh, her eyes pierced through him. "Yes."

"I had no idea," his chin lifted, somewhat proud of her response. "I most certainly could steal for you."

"We'll go back. Tomorrow. And we'll take it."

"I'm offended you had to ask. I mean, if a simple child could five finger the thing, then surely-"

"Your capabilities were never in question," the harshness in her voice made him tense.

Ferelith's manner was calm, cool like the steam rising off the lake. Her eyes were focused, but knew they were elsewhere. If he could link to her now, he wondered what he would see. There was something dark to the sage. Something that reeked of death. He could see it when he looked into her eyes. She had known torment. The way she spoke of deception was proof of that. And watching her now, he knew a second side of her was dipping into those shadows to pull out whatever trick it had. He became... delighted.

"Of course not," he grinned. "But I don't do anything for free. As I mentioned before, we aren't friends... yet."

"Your price?"

Quick and to the point, the way he liked. But he had to think for a moment. Coin was not viable, as they had none. Instead, he needed something that would give him an ounce of joy.

"The satisfaction of my curiosity."

Ferelith had finally paused to give him her attention. It was the highlight of his night. He saw her for what she truly was: dark hair down her shoulders, pale eyes nearly glowing and piercing through dark, cold lips pressed into a firm frown, and steady breaths to calm her ferocity. Like a stag ready to charge.

"Why do you want to steal the idol? Haven't you already agreed to search for their missing leader?"

"I'll be blunt."

"Please do."

"Kagha can rot," he saw her lip twitch as she said it, "and they fucking poisoned me."

"Good point," Astarion recalled the poison she had given him earlier that day. "I'm surprised you didn't kill them."

"I might be brash, but I'm not stupid."

"I'm only saying it because I most certainly would have," he flipped a rock over in his hand. "I meant no offense. Your composure is rather... impressive."

As the tension faded, Ferelith allowed a small chuckle fall between her lips.

"It's the skipping," she wiggled a rock in her hand as Astarion rolled his eyes.