#‘he joined the force to try and fix it! he wanted at least one trustworthy guy there!’

[justwannabecat]

Broke: Dick becoming a police officer to try and bring a positive change from the inside

Woke: Dick becoming a police officer because it gives Bruce an aneurysm thinking about how easily people could tie that to Nightwing

Bespoke: Dick becoming a police officer because, on the off chance he ever happens to meet the Joker in uniform, nobody will bat an eye when he kills him

[h-worksrambles]

Frontiers got the Sonic brain worms going again, and I’ve had this thought for a while.

  Does anyone else...really dislike the thought of Shadow working for G.U.N. from ‘06 onwards?    G.U.N. were a consistently negative force in their earliest appearances. In Sonic Adventure 2, they were a corrupt organisation responsible for killing almost everyone on the ARK, including Maria, and covering it up. By the present day, they’re still equally shady, to the point that they’re implied to be going after Sonic in part to cover up the fact that Shadow is loose. They basically serve as the embodiment of everything that made Gerald and Shadow hate humanity and want to wipe them out.

  Their next major appearance is in Shadow the Hedgehog and while they aren’t killing researchers en masse anymore, they’re just kind of useless here. Their commander (one of my picks for one of my least favourite Sonic characters by the way) is a reckless, trigger-happy reactionary, who is less concerned with protecting his country from an alien invasion, than with resolving a petty, wrong-headed grudge against Shadow. Side note, how did you work for G.U.N. this long and never realise they were the people actually responsible for killing Maria? Seriously, screw this guy.    All this to say, I don’t much like G.U.N. or their role in the story. When they’re not cartoonishly evil they’re either incompetent or just boring. But at least these games recognised that they were, you know, kind of the bad guys. Or at least untrustworthy. But nope, come ‘06, Shadow’s just working with them now. Many people praise Shadow’s story as the best part of ‘06 despite its faults. And I mostly agree. But I really dislike this as a conceit for that story to happen.     I don’t care if Shadow’s leaving his past behind him. This feels wrong. Even if you assume Shadow is willfully ignoring everything that happened in SA2 because ‘something, something, I’m not that person anymore,’ these people spent the last game trying to kill him for no reason. And have never shown themselves to be remotely trustworthy or competent. You can infer he’s possibly joining G.U.N. to fix it from the inside, but we’re never actually told that. Nor does it feel like intentionally relying on subtle implication. It simply feels like fans just filling in gaps where the writers didn’t bother, something this series makes us do far too often. Is this your idea of fulfiling Maria’s dying wish, buddy? Frankly, it’s a bit rich of Shadow to have whole character arc about never being a puppet again in his own game, and then instantly become a tool for the shady government faction. I guess being a pawn is fine as long as it’s not for a gravel-voiced alien, then. This just serves to make Shadow look stupid at best, and outright hypocritical at worst. Even if they’re not as bad now as they were 50 years ago, I still don’t see Shadow looking at the mess these guys were in ShTH, and thinking ‘ah, yes, these seem like precisely the people who will give me purpose and help me make the world a better place’. I’m not gonna claim that this is a ‘plot hole’. Characters not making the decisions you want is not a plot hole and I know that. But I do think it’s a very…weird choice for this character in a game that’s supposed to be all about him making his own decisions after everyone keeps ordering him around and placing expectations on him.     And yet, for as much of ‘06 got retconned, this has stuck. Chronicles has Sonic and co. working with G.U.N. briefly with no fuss and Forces keeps Shadow as a G.U.N. agent. As did the Archie comics. Even Sonic & Tails R, a fan project I really like, kind of leans into this and frankly, I don’t like it. I’m honestly glad that the movies have consistently portrayed G.U.N. as self-involved and shady. They’re the ones who brought Robotnik into this mess in the first place and they’re still spying on Sonic in the sequel. Because as far as the old games were concerned, the fact that they were incredibly sketchy was kind of the point.

   TLDR, I don’t like how G.U.N’s actions have been conveniently forgotten, if they must be in the story at all, I think they work better as antagonists, and I don’t believe Team Dark have to be affilated with them to function themselves. In fact, as far as out of character stuff goes, I’d say this bothers me MORE than the whole ‘Shadow is Vegeta now’ controversy. If this aspect of Shadow gets dropped at some point, I’ll have no complaints.

[whatsnevershown]

Vulnerable (The Witcher Fic / Geralt x Reader

I rewatched The Witcher the other day !! I was really sad to see we probably get another season in 2021, so if you need something to keep you going.. This !! 

“What, would you rather y/n do it?” Jaskier asked, scrubbing Geralt vigorously.

“Perhaps she’d have a softer touch,” Geralt growled in return.

Y/n, who was sleeping—or attempting to—on the wooden bench a couple of metres from the tub, opened one eye at the statement, “If you think I’m getting anywhere near you and the disgusting stench you brought in with you, you have another thing coming,”

“You act as if you were the epitome of cleanliness when I first met you,” he replied coldly.

“I was without access to such luxuries,” she gestured at the bath, “you simply neglect them,”

Geralt grunted in response. 

“Now let me sleep,” she groaned.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Jaskier, “I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t on the verge of dying,”

Y/n had had a rough day. When Geralt had found her, she was rain soaked and shaking, unconscious. She still shook now, as much as the other two noticed she was trying to hide it, and the wooden bench wasn’t entirely the pinnacle of comfort. Of course, Jaskier had offered she share his bed, but she had declined, very aware of his tendencies with women in his bed. Geralt had felt no need to make such an offer.

“I am not on the verge of dying,” she said, opening her eyes, “I’m just a little cold. And oh so very tired, so if you’d leave me be, perhaps I could remedy at least one of those things,”

Without warning, Geralt stood up out of the tub.

Y/n gave a small outcry of surprise, “My virgin eyes,” she groaned.

“No one’s forcing you to look,” said Geralt, but the laugh in his voice indicated he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You take up half the bloody room, witcher,” she said, eyes now closed, “it’s not as if I was staring.

He gave a low laugh, a truly bone chilling thing.

“Fine, sleep,” he said, pulling a long shirt over his head, and moving towards the bed across from her bench.

Jaskier opened his mouth to remake his earlier offer, but Geralt caught him, “She said no, Bard,”

Jaskier merely shrugged, and got into his own bed.

In no time, the two of them were sleeping, soft snoring coming from both beds. Of course that bastard snored, y/n thought. 

But she couldn’t sleep herself. She had been downplaying her ailments to the men all night. She was freezing, and her lungs felt like they were full of razor blades, cutting her every time she dared breath in. Geralt knew that a man had attacked her and that she had fought him off, but he didn’t know of the beating she had received in the process, the bruises on her ribs.Or how long she had lay there, passed out in the snow, slowly numbing. Gods know what could have happened to her if she hadn’t had her dagger. She shuddered even more violently at the thought.

Suddenly, a set of snoring halted. The Witcher was awake, and she didn’t even have to look to feel his analyzing eyes on her, boring into her. She wrapped her arms around herself to cover up her shaking, but she knew he saw it. She tried not to give him the eye contact he clearly craved, but he was not giving up, staring as her until she turned to him and said;

“What?”

“You’re shaking,” he said simply.

“And?” 

“And the sound of your teeth chattering woke me up,”

He lifted the covers, a subtle move, but one with a lot of subliminal weight, an invite, for her to join him.

Y/n scoffed, but she was truly freezing, still unable to feel the tips of her fingers.

He didn’t speak, just held the covers open, raising a brow.

She was strong willed and stubborn, but he out-waited her, as the cold ate her up, she moved quietly into his bed.

As soon as she felt warmth, she became addicted to it, curling up against his stone torso, that burned like a furnace against her chest. She shamelessly pushed herself against him.

He didn’t even say anything, just moved to wrap his arm around her body, a movement absent of ulterior motive, simply a kindness.

Y/n hissed in pain as he touched her ribs, and he froze.

“What was that?” he said, his voice low.

“Nothing,” she replied, closing her eyes, but he didn’t let her.

“Y/n, show me your ribs,” he growled

“Take me to dinner first,” she mumbled, trying to sleep.

But he was fixing her with that look. That damned look. Geralt spoke with his eyes, she’d noted that a lot in her week with him. And the way he’d stare at her, that patient way, as if he had all the time in the world for her to obey him. The same looked that had gotten her into his bed in the first place.

She sighed and lifted her shirt, revealing her bruised ribs, that looked particularly nasty in the candlelight, all purple and yellow.

His face grew worried, and he looked at it thoroughly before looking her in the eye. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, as softly as she’d ever heard him speak.

“It was none of your business,” she replied.

He put his arm around her, softly and carefully, “You can trust me, Y/n. I thought you knew that. I’ve seen you vulnerable enough times not to judge you,”

She laughed humorlessly. 

“Trust? That isn’t what trust is, Geralt. If only you took your own advice. Then perhaps I’d have seen you vulnerable. But I haven’t, because you’re so damned proud, and you never let yourself be vulnerable. You’re just a man who knows all of my weaknesses, and I know none of yours. That doesn’t make you trustworthy, that makes you a threat,” 

He took in what she said for a momend see him do it, mulling over all her words.

“You’re right,” was all he said.

Then, he pulled the covers off his torso, revealing his scarred chest.

He pointed to one of the scars, “Vampire. Caught me off guard. Disguised herself as a brothel girl,”

Then, to another one, “Bloodwolf. I don’t guard my left side as much when I attack. Got me right on the shoulder,”

Then to another, “Strignat—”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because these are my weaknesses. The things that have gotten past my guard enough to make a mark. These are constant reminders of my vulnerability,”

She did’t answer, so he continued pointing out his scars, describing the stories behind them, stories about monsters and witches that she delighted in.

At some point, she fell asleep, and he was left there, holding her until morning. He did not sleep. He could not sleep, the sound of his pounding heart—the heartbeat that was to be slowest heartbeat among men—kept him awake until dawn.

And like, a bonus scene. If you want it.

“Really, Geralt,” Jaskier was standing over them. Y/n was still asleep in his arms.

“Did you really have to, do you understand how awkward that’s going to make things in the future?”

Geralt growled, “I didn’t bed her, Jaskier,”

“Right,” said Jaskier with exasperation, “And that’s why you’re half naked. In bed with her with your big meaty claws around her,”

“My big— My what?”

“Good gods,” the other man continued, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are around the size of Roach. Are you sure she’s still breathing in that chokehold?”

“Jaskier,” he groaned, “I didn’t—nevermind,”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.  

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.  

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it.  The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N).  J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (15) || atz

Everyone is there.

Literally every member of the crew is gathered at the main deck, from Seonghwa, who’s not cooking the crew’s breakfast for some reason, to San, your master, who you know from experience is notoriously difficult to wake up in the mornings.

You try to catch your master’s eye, but San simply gives a wide yawn and clutches a stuffed toy dog closer to him while blearily rubbing at his eyes. Jongho simply looks like he’s already dozing off, his head repeatedly knocking into Seonghwa’s shoulder as he nods off before the whole cycle continues again.

Yeosang pushes you forward gently, and suddenly, before you, is the captain himself.

He looks the same as the last day you saw him, his presence as commanding as the winds that command the ship, vivid green eye burning with fire and the storms of the sea. His red jacket is just as striking in the sea of white and browns, and once again for some reason you can’t explain, you feel inexplicably drawn to him.

Mingi, his ever faithful quartermaster and bosun, stepped forward, calling for silence. That really wasn’t very difficult, considering it was the crack of dawn and nobody really had the brain capacity be talking much. In under half a minute, everyone has fallen still, the deck seemingly plunged into silence, quietly waiting for the captain to begin.

Captain Hongjoong’s eye doesn’t waver from yours when he starts to speak.

“Members of ATEEZ, crew of the Treasure.” His voice is steady, confident, assertive. There’s something that seems almost ceremonial about the way he’s speaking, as if he’s about to give a grand, well orated speech. You glance back at Yeosang for help, but the navigator’s attention is completely fixed on his captain. “We are all gathered here today for an important reason-”

Then he pauses for a moment and his eye glances through the crowd, doing a mental headcount more rapidly than you can see. “Wait, where’s Wooyoung?”

“Here, captain!” There’s a whoop from above you and you manage to duck just before Wooyoung’s booted feet slam into your skull and turn you into human pancake, he untangles himself expertly from the rigging he’s just swung over from and turns to grin at the disgruntled crowd. “Sorry I’m late!”

Then he ducks into the gathering before Mingi can scold him.

Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head before he continues, tone completely commanding. “As I was saying, we are gathered here today for an important reason. This day, we will have a new crew mate join our ranks.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then someone from the back cries out in surprise.

“Captain, you knocked up a town girl?”

Silence.

A conspiratorial whisper. “A baby’s on the way?”

Immediately the silence of the early morning is broken as the entire gathering of pirates erupt into uncontrollable laughter. To your surprise, you see the captain’s cheeks turn a bright, cherry red, almost as vivid as his jacket, before he’s spluttering incoherently in distress and fury.

There are wolf whistles and cries of ‘I knew you had it in you, captain!’

“I did no such thing!” Hongjoong hollers in red faced rage and embarrassment, but the crew only falls over laughing and guffawing at their captain’s indignant protests. Even Yunho, who was standing behind you, keels over wheezing, clutching at his belly and making sounds that remind you of a dying horse.

“Enough!” Mingi shouts over the din, but he doesn’t get far before he’s pressed a hand over his mouth, shaking with barely restrained chortles. “I’m sorry, captain.”

Hongjoong throws up his hands in resignation and merely decides to wait for his crew to stop laughing at him.

Eventually, the laughter dies down, save for the occasional giggle and snicker here and there. The captain’s face is still flushed pink, but he clears his head and attempts to continue.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Hongjoong glares at all his crew members, some of who are still chuckling behind their hands, “We are here today to welcome a new member, who is not my unborn and nonexistent child. But before we do that, we are going to name him first.”

Something wells up inside of your chest.

You.

He’s talking about you.

Just as you realise that, the captain turns to you beckoning you forward. Your eyes fly open and you glance behind you, as if there were anyone else on this ship with no name.

“Go on.” Yeosang nudges you with kind smile and you step forward as if in a daze. Hongjoong strides over to you, taking you by the shoulders as his eyes meet yours.

You can’t look away.

“Stowaway.” His voice is soft, wholehearted and genuine, but he has no need to raise his volume. The ship is completely silent except for the creaking of rope in the rigging, the gentle lap of waves against the side of the ship. You could hear a needle drop. “Exactly one moon ago, you literally stowed away on my ship. Mingi and Seonghwa found you in the cargo hold. You broke my quartermaster’s nose, fell unconscious in the middle of a rainstorm from a raging fever and had the audacity to be carried bridal style all the way from the main deck to the sickbay.”

You force down a gulp at his stern tone and Mingi’s shake of the head. The quartermaster’s nose has long come out of its splint, but there’s a little crookedness to it now that you’ve caused.

“I believed you to be a Royal Navy officer due to the coat you were wearing and your terrible story making skills, but you’ve proven to be a trustworthy crew member and apprentice to San.” His voice suddenly takes on a kinder tone. “You’ve saved my crew from the Kraken and survived your first battle on board.”

Tears prick at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

“It is an honour to have you as part of my crew.” Hongjoong declares, eye fixed firmly on you. “And now, I’m going to bestow a name upon you, if you don’t mind.”

He looks at you so seriously that you realise he’s actually waiting for permission, not simply asking out of formality.

“Yes.” You manage to choke out, a thickness in your throat that you’ve never felt before. You’re going to have a name. “Yes, of course I don’t mind.”

“Four years ago, we did the same thing for another member of the ship. Today, we’re going to do the same for our stowaway.”

He lays a hand on your shoulder and gestures towards the crowd. To your surprise, your master steps out from the rest of the pirates.

“The last time, we gave the person a new family name of his own.” Hongjoong says, as San rests his hand on your other shoulder. “But this time, San has offered to give you his.”

Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and you turn to stare at your master, whose face is unreadable and blank as usual. He merely shrugs at you.

“From this moment on, you have a name.” Hongjoong declares, and suddenly the heavens shake as if on cue, thunder rolling through the sky. “I wish you all the best in recovering your memories, that you may find the truth of your past even though it may seem as unconquerable as the ocean.”

Your eyes fall closed at his sincere, kind hearted words. Tears slip past your tightly shut eyes at your captain’s words, but honestly at this point you don’t care anymore.

“I name you Choi Chin Hae, family of the ATEEZ crew.”

There’s silence all about you for a moment as everyone takes time to process their captain’s words.

The cheer starts off soft at first, a single person whispering it from the crowd. Then it grows in volume until it becomes a resounding echo throughout the harbor.

“Chin Hae! Chin Hae! Chin Hae!”

The words drown out the sounds of your sniffling, and you feel San pull you into a tight embrace, whispering words of congratulations into your ear. Something feels right, an empty hole in your chest has been satiated after million of years.

A sob leaves you, your shoulders trembling as you try to keep it in. From the side, you see Hongjoong with a small smile on his face watching the cheers.

“Thank you so much, captain.” You whisper over the rowdy screams of the crew, who have now somehow managed to turn your name into some bawdy bar song. Somehow, Hongjoong hears you over the din.

“You’re welcome, Chin Hae.” Is all he replies kindly.

“Woohoo!” Wooyoung slings an arm around your shoulder out of nowhere, sending you staggering forward, a massive grin on his face. “Let’s party!”

And seas, do these pirates know how to party.

Because the first place they drag you to celebrate is a rowdy tavern in town.

“Get the alcohol flowing!” Yunho crows as the nine of you sit around a table; the same people who have been the most instrumental in your journey. Your master, San, your kind supporter, Seonghwa. The kind maknae, Jongho, the person’s whose nose you first broke the very day you stepped on board, Mingi. The sweet navigator, Yeosang, the cheerful lookout, Yunho. And of course, the captain himself, Hongjoong.

And the head gunner Wooyoung who’s kind of just tagging along for the free alcohol.

“And get the pretty ladies here, please!” The man laughs, waving cheerfully at one of the waitress. She blows him a kiss in reply.

Yunho turns to Hongjoong with a expectant smile on his lips. “Hongjoongie-hyung…”

The captain immediately shakes his head, a scowl twisting on his face. “No. No no no. You only call me Hongjoong when you want something from me and I always regret it. No way am I acquiescing to any of your stupid requests-”

Wooyoung slides into the seat next to yours, starting to open his mouth, but Hongjoong cuts him off before he can say a word.

“That includes you too, Wooyoung!”

Seonghwa chuckles as he watches the little scene go on. “It is a celebratory drink though.” Yeosang nods agreement as he glances at his captain.

“We are having a celebration, so maybe you could treat us to at least a drink each, Hongjoongie-hyung?”

Yunho and Wooyoung immediately slide behind him, trying to back him up with the full power of their two puppy dog eyes.

You watch with interest as Hongjoong’s stern expression cracks just a little down the middle. Yeosang adds a ‘please’ and you see every ounce of Hongjoong’s good, logical thinking just crash down a drain.

“Whatever.” He sighs, shaking his head and the two mischief makers exchange an exuberant high five.

“Waitress, one cask of the finest alcohol you have!” Wooyoung shouts across the din of the tavern and Hongjoong’s face immediately goes ashen.

“Wooyoung! I said one drink!” He yelps, rising to his feet to cancel the order, but Yunho tackles him back down as Wooyoung goes to fetch the alcohol. The two roll on the ground like a pair of children roughhousing in the mud, except that one is actually the Pirate King of the Caribbean and the other is a deadly ex-gladiator.

“That is technically one drink.” San shrugs as he shakes his head at the commotion.

You turn to him curiously. “Are you going to drink, master?”

The healer sniffs at the wooden cask Wooyoung is lugging back in distaste. “As I said before, I abhor the taste of alcohol, most of all rum. It is a vile drink that can turn even the most respectable of men into complete scoundrels. There’s a reason we use it to kill the disease causing creatures on our skin, you know.”

“San’s just a lightweight.” Wooyoung calls loudly over the noise of Yunho and Hongjoong both fighting to get the upper hand on the floor as he sets the cask down. The healer turns to give him a deadly glare.

Seonghwa winces in sympathy. “Shots fired.”

“What did you say, you little shit?”

Yeosang chuckles a little under his breath, looking at San. “Well, you can’t really take alcohol-”

“Let’s have a drinking game, right now!” You’ve never seen your master so pumped for anything, and you’d never have thought the day you’d see it would be because of alcohol. “We’ll play truth, dare or drink. Let’s see if I’m the one left drunk after this!”

“I’m on!” Wooyoung cracks open the lid, handing out the wooden mugs. “Come on, everyone! Let’s see who’s the last one left standing! Upright, at the least!”

Hongjoong finally clambers back into his seat, blonde hair mussed from the little fight and his eye patch askew. “What did I miss?”

“They’re having a drinking game. Or rather, we’re having a drinking game.” Mingi sighs under his breath, shaking his head at his crew mates as he takes his mug. “I suppose doing this once in a while is fine…”

Wooyoung snatches a glass bottle and places it in the middle of the table. “Let’s get the bottle rolling.”

You frown, a little confused. “What’s going on?”

The other eight glance at each other before Jongho explains. “Every time before they start drinking, they’ll have a game of spin the bottle. If the bottle lands on you, you need to tell a truth, carry out a dare, or just drink an entire tankard.”

Entire tankard? You eye the size of your cup doubtfully, unsure whether you can even finish it before the night ends.

“Since this celebration is in honour of you, Chin Hae, why don’t you spin the bottle?” Yunho calls as he fixes his hair, grabbing his mug. You carefully reach out and spin the bottle.

The glass bottle spins around in circles, a little wobbly, but in the end it finally settles on the captain.

“I hate this game already.” Hongjoong groans, turning to you. “Truth.”

You pause. Is there anything you really want to ask the captain?

Then something occurs to you, all the way back from when you’d first come aboard this ship.

“Captain… when I was sick and fell ill… were you the one who carried me to the sickbay?”

Hongjoong freezes for a moment. Then he fills his mug to the brim and knocks back the whole drink in a single gulp, choking out ‘next’.

It can’t have been more obvious if he’d slapped you in the face with a dead fish.

“But hyung-” San begins to say with a grin on his face, but his captain cuts him off.

“Shut up, San! You can’t say a word about it.”

Wooyoung and Yunho are in fits of laughter, Mingi and Seonghwa shaking heads at their captain’s terrible lying skills. There’s a warmth rising in your chest, a certain happiness. That captain may really have not hated you from the beginning at all.

San shrugs, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “I mean, captain, when you were naming Chin Hae, you said something about being carried bridal style to the sickbay… I mean, nobody but the person carrying him could have known that, am I right?”

Hongjoong pauses a moment to think over his words. You can literally see the cogs in his head turning as realization dawns on him.

He slams his head into the table in mortification. “And I already drank the stupid drink. Damn, I hate this game.”

Wooyoung pats his captain on his back reassuringly, but there’s not a bit of sympathy on his face. “It’s alright, cap’n. I mean, all of us already knew except for Chin Hae here.”

Hongjoong pins San to his seat with a murderous glare.

“Moving on!” San chirps, suddenly too cheerful in spite of his imminent death looming over him. “Wooyoungie, it’s your turn!”

“Yeah!” The head gunner gets up and spins the bottle, the neck finally coming to rest on Seonghwa. The cook’s eyes widen momentarily. “Seonghwa!”

“Truth.”

Wooyoung frowns as he strains to think of a suitable question. Mingi sighs, sipping from his tankard. “This is stupid. They’re going to end up drunk anyway, honestly.”

“Remember what happened the last time Wooyoung got drunk?” San muses, and Yeosang snorts as he takes a drink.

“Well, I remember you being flat out wasted right next to him and that you woke up on the main deck butt naked because you ran all the way back to the ship from the tavern while throwing off your clothes and singing ‘nothing’s gonna hold me down’, all while Mingi and Seonghwa were trying to chase you down.”

You turn to stare at your master questioning. His face is carefully blank.

“I did no such thing.” He hiccoughs and swallows a mouthful of alcohol. “But I do remember what Wooyoung did. He flirted so hard with someone, fell in love and ran back to tell us he was leaving the crew for good, before he woke up next to a potted plant in his bed.”

You choke on your rum.

“Argh! I can’t think of one right now.” Wooyoung runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “Hyung, tell us your most recent secret!”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen and he glances over at you. You immediately know what he’s thinking about.

To your gratefulness, Seonghwa merely sighs and begins to fill his tankard. Yunho pouts.

“Aww, that’s no fun, hyung!”

The cook merely shakes his head with a serene smile on his face as he returns to his seat. “Our definitions of fun are very different. Yunho, it’s your turn.” The lookout eagerly spins the bottle.

And the bottle lands on you. Their eyes all come to stare at you expectantly.

“Uhh…” You keep your voice shaking from the nerves. “Truth.”

“If you were a woman…” Both you and Seonghwa almost choke, Seonghwa on his drink and you on dry air. “Which of us would you be with?”

You cough at the too accurate statement, but luckily for you, no one realises, all too busy extolling their own qualities.

“It’s going to be me.” Wooyoung insists, patting his biceps fondly. “I mean, look at these guns, baby!”

Mingi snorts as he takes a sip. “Sorry, Wooyoung, but the only guns you have are back on the ship.”

The entire table dissolves in laughter.

“Burn!” Yunho crows, waving his tankard around. You dodge to avoid the alcoholic spray. “But Chin Hae, you still haven’t answered my question!”

You pause to think about this for a moment.

“Well, if I’m honest… It’s probably Master.”

San grins at Wooyoung, who looks like he’s just been struck dumb. Then Wooyoung speaks, his voice thoughtful.

“But technically the two of you have the same surname, so isn’t that like incest?”

There’s silence as everyone glances at each other. You stare at your master in horror.

“And wouldn’t Jongho be like San’s brother or something since he’s a Choi too, so would Jongho be Chin Hae’s brother in law-”

“Okay, let’s drink!” Yunho shouts before the conversation can get any weirder, and everyone happily acquiesces.

Over the course of a few hours, you watch as the tavern turns into complete madness.

Seonghwa, Mingi and Yeosang are drinking quietly and speaking in soft tones, while your captain and master are both singing ‘baby don’t stop’ at the top of their lungs, attempting some terrible dance along the side.

Jongho’s at your side, shaking his head at their shenanigans as he downs tankard after tankard, trying to drown his life problems and Yunho and Wooyoung are long gone, attempting to flirt with anything that even remotely moves or breathes.

And they’ve somehow already started a fire in the kitchen, which the staff have had to desperately put out.

“Hey, Chin Hae.”

You glance up to see the gunner, Wooyoung, standing there. You’ve never really talked to him much, after he abandoned you and Jongho on his little excursion with his lady friends, so you’re a little confused to why he’s speaking to you now.

He looks abnormally serious.

“If this is about why I didn’t choose you for the Truth thing earlier, I’m sorry-”

But he doesn’t even acknowledge your words, pulling you out of the tavern by the hand. You’re confused, but you follow him to one of the back alleys. He stops to rummage in his pockets, before producing something long and slender wrapped in a velvet bag.

“This is for you.” He says, so earnestly that you’re puzzled for a moment, but you take the small gift from him and open it.

A beautiful, silver hairpin slides out from the soft velvet.

A gasp falls from your lips. It must be extraordinarily expensive, the hairpin is made of the finest silver with exquisite, elaborate detailing on the pure metal. At the end is the main piece, a sea flower, its petals wrought with fine silver, a single, well polished aquamarine stone set in the very centre.

“Do you like it?” Wooyoung asks softly, as if afraid you might reject it. You’re stunned beyond comprehension, turning the beautiful piece of jewelry in your hand carefully, afraid that it might break.

“Yes.” You manage to choke out, suddenly a little emotional. No one else has gifted you with such a precious thing before. Then you start to panic. Has he found out that you’re a woman? “Yes… but why?”

“Remember the time you went to town with Jongho and I?” Wooyoung smiles genuinely, his eyes crinkling to little crescent curves. “You were looking at the hairpins like you really wanted one. It’s a pity you can’t wear it now though, your hair is too short.”

“But it must be expensive.” You breathe in disbelief, tracing your finger down the side of the cool metal. Wooyoung shrugs, a cheeky grin on his face.

“The money I bought it with was clean.” You give him a flat stare.

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He laughs, as you gently slide the pin back into the velvet bag. The you look at him as earnestly as possible and flat out bow to him as deeply as you can.

“Thank you, Wooyoung-hyung.”

“You’ve just gained a name and joined the crew today.” The purple haired gunner’s face is soft in the moonlight, accentuating his handsome features like magic bringing a carved statue to life. “So happy birthday, Chin Hae-ah.”

Happy birthday.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, before the back door to the tavern bursts open and Seonghwa, San and Jongho burst out in a panic.

“Don’t flirt with Chin Hae!” Jongho splutters, but Seonghwa trips on the stair and falls onto the maknae. The two go tumbling to the ground in front of the two of you, much to your shock. San steps proudly on the two of them like some sort of disapproving parent.

“Don’t you dare defile my precious apprentice!” The healer declares, clearly drunk because he’s talking to the potted plant at the side rather than you and Wooyoung. Then he shakes the plant vigorously, dirt and leaves flying everywhere. “You hear me, Wooyoung?”

“Come on, I don’t look that ugly…” The gunner says as he helps Seonghwa and Jongho to their feet. Seonghwa dusts himself off, giving you a concerned look. Your heart brims at their thoughtfulness.

“Are you alright, Chin Hae? This strange man wasn’t bothering you at all?”

Wooyoung shrieks in fury at not being recognised. “I am your crewmate! And I’m not such a lowly person to prey on my own crewmates! I love my pretty ladies, excuse you!”

“Yeah, he was just giving me something.” You reply softly, slipping the pin inside your pocket as Jongho tackles him back into the tavern, lecturing him about irresponsible men and sexual predators. Seonghwa nods, pulling San away from his potted plant even as he struggles to continue threatening Wooyoung.

“If I catch you trying to screw my apprentice over again, the next time you get injured I’m patching you up with fishing hooks and barnacle juice-” He squawks as Seonghwa picks him up gently from the back. “Let me go, you fiend!”

“Why is Wooyoung-hyung being so nice to me, though?” You wonder aloud, as the three of you turn back to the tavern, San slung over Seonghwa’s shoulder like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

Seonghwa turns to where you and Wooyoung had been standing with a sad, wistful smile.

“It’s probably because Wooyoung knows what you’re feeling. He understands, after all.” The cook says quietly, his expression fond and you can feel the brotherly love Seonghwa has for his younger crewmate.

You frown at his words. “Understands what?”

Seonghwa’s smile is heartbreaking.

“What it is like not to have a name.”

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

did you say John/Ianto 👀👀 because same

I did indeed, Anon! Truth is, I spend at least half my time thinking about John/Ianto because I'm predictable trash 😩💅

I’m taking the opportunity to answer @grinchwrapsupreme too since I feel it’s on the same wavelength:

Well... I have several John/Ianto AU ideas that I think about on the regular, including but not limited to:

the one based on that one Buffy episode where dark!Ianto from a parallel universe is dropped in the canon universe post-season 2 and makes everyone think Ianto's affected by some weird alien thing because he’s acting so weird (until they realise it’s a whole other Ianto. Jack probably makes a threesome joke). Of course, canon!Jack and canon!Gwen are too straight-laced and vanilla for dark!Ianto so he decides to see if he can find John, because John is always a good time, and he’s always down for a bender ;) Long story short, they go on a bender. John is very confused at first, but dark!Ianto is such an unexpected delight, he soon decides to go with it. (I currently have 4 variations of this AU in my head because it turns out it could be a lot of fun to drop other dark!team characters as well and have them wreak havoc; all of the variations include John/Ianto, and all of them include polyamory, at least in spirit if not in execution)

the one where 21-year-old!Ianto who's working in T1 meets time agents Javic (just 'Javic', like 'Cher' or 'Prince') and John Hart (pseudonym) and becomes entangled with their case (and them ;) ) so he has a whirlwind romance with both of them for the few weeks it takes them to do whatever it was they were tasked with before they disappear again. He knew it couldn’t last, of course, but Ianto’s still disappointed; it’s still hard to let go. Imagine Ianto's surprise when he later runs into the leader of Torchwood Three when he shows up to argue with Yvonne over [random excuse]! Except... Javic doesn't seem to remember him at all, and John is nowhere to be found... 👀

the one where Ianto is a vampire and Jack is a succubus and John is sometimes invited into their relationship because why not

the really long elaborate one that started as a CoE fix-it AU but also was me trying to force Ianto and John into a situation where they had to work together and learn to trust each other without Jack being there and oops they end up falling in love and also being badasses and going on space adventures but they’re also both still in love with Jack so as soon as they can get back to him this leads to John/Jack/Ianto ot3

the one where Ianto wants more from Jack than Jack’s willing or capable of giving him, so Ianto leaves, only Torchwood isn’t the kind of job you can just quit, and retcon doesn’t exactly sound appealing to him, and also he’s very, very angry about Jack’s emotional unavailability and he’s depressed and feeling self-destructive, so what he does is he escapes into space. And who other than John motherfucking Hart does he run into in a nondescript space bar? 👀 (John knows a thing or two about running, and also about self-destructive behaviours and unhealthy coping mechanisms. John has also been lowkey wanting a piece of Eye Candy since he put a gun to his face and the man bared his teeth at him in response. Now it looks like he might get the chance.)

the sequel to You Got Me On Edge (Any Minute I Might Jump) (also a John/Jack/Ianto one). This one is pure fluff.

the proper Buffy AU I keep thinking about despite my best efforts, I blame James Marsters for being so good at making himself look soft and vulnerable even when he’s playing a character who is Such a Fucking Asshole™

I’m sure I’m forgetting some, but I like the general idea of John joining the team and slowly gaining everyone’s trust (and coming to love all of them while becoming more trustworthy while also still being a Bastard ❤) so take that one as a given. It goes without saying that Ianto and John fall in love and have a nice happy triad situation with Jack in this scenario. Sometimes, John dates other people too. Sometimes it’s a closed triad. Always, they’re very happy. A classic I often use as the backdrop for other ideas.

[panharmonium]

persistence [ficlet]

summary: Merlin was giving Will the Eyes.  The “open your mouth the wrong way and I’ll stuff a dirty sock in there” eyes.  (aka: Daegal tries his hand at carpentry again, and Will tries to be polite about it.)

context for newcomers: last week @once-and-future-gay​ wrote a post imagining what it would have been like if Will and Daegal had both lived and gotten to interact with one another, and I loved it so much that I wrote a fic for it.

The other day she sent me the following messages, and - well, you can probably guess what happened next.

i just had this idea of daegal refusing to give up w the carpenting, and trying to make a little will statue made out of wood 

it is....... abysmal

but will just sort hides a grimace because he appreciates the hard work that went into it and thanks him for it

it sits on his bedside table but if anyone asks no it doesn't 

Merlin was giving Will the Eyes.  The “open your mouth the wrong way and I’ll stuff a dirty sock in there” eyes.

Will had never been much intimidated by that look, but he did still refrain from vocalizing any of the immediate thoughts that popped into his head, piercing Merlin with an irritable who do you think i am look over the top of Daegal’s head instead.

To Daegal, Will offered a valiant, somewhat strained smile.  “You’ve made something!” he remarked, forcing as much enthusiasm into this statement as he could muster, deciding it was safest to stick to simple observations for now, in order to avoid being forced to ask a very confused question or, worse, give a demonstrably false compliment.  

“Yeah, I have,” Daegal replied, looking nervous, as he set his offering down on one of Gaius’s tables.  “Merlin said - well, I’m to be practicing persistence this week, he told me.  So I decided to have another go at the carpenter’s bench.”

“Oh, did you now?”  Will, suddenly comprehending, caught Merlin’s eye, silently communicating a dire promise of revenge-to-come.  “Merlin said that, did he?”

“Yeah,” Daegal replied.  Behind him, where Daegal could not see, Merlin waggled his eyebrows at Will.  “And he said maybe I ought to make something for you, since you were teaching me and I never did say thank you.  Thank you, by the way,” he added.

Will struggled to tear his eyes away from Daegal’s mangled creation, the wooden surface of which looked as if it had been carved with someone’s teeth, instead of proper tools.  “You’re welcome,” he managed, with some difficulty.  Sorry I didn’t teach you better, he thought to himself, but he did not say so out loud, because that was definitely the sort of thing that would earn him a sock in the mouth.  “Er - it’s really...”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “...Good on you for trying again,” he settled on finally.  “That shows a fair bit of...what was it?”

“Persistence,” Merlin said, looking unbearably smug.

“Persistence, yeah.”  Will clapped Daegal awkwardly on the shoulder.  “Well done.”

“I know it doesn’t look very good, still,” Daegal admitted, fingering his sleeve.

Will couldn’t very well disagree, not without losing absolutely all credibility, but - “Doesn’t need to look good if it’s sturdy,” he opted for instead, which was true, and perhaps especially so in this case - Daegal’s lumpy sculpture was so chunky and riddled with nails it looked as if it might have the potential to kill, were Will to bash it over an assailant’s head.  “It’s solid work,” he decided, which was technically true, at least in the most literal sense.  “Thank you.”

The smile that bloomed across Daegal’s face in response to this was far more satisfying a reward for Will than the poorly-constructed figurine itself, even if Merlin would have to hold him at swordpoint to make him admit it. 

“All right, you,” Merlin said, packing a medicine bag into Daegal’s arms and chivvying him out of the physician’s chambers.  “You can’t monopolize the kingdom’s craftsmen all day; they’ve got work to do.  Off with your deliveries.” 

Daegal managed to get in one last wave at Will before being scooted out the door.  Only after Will heard the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the tower steps did he turn back to Merlin, his eyes widening.  “You bastard,” he said with feeling.  “That near to killed me.”

Merlin was already laughing.  “It’s not so bad.”

Will picked up the sculpture and brandished it at Merlin’s face, nearly dropping it to the floor when he realized it weighed roughly as much as a millstone.  “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?  You’ve got a close enough look?”

Merlin grinned and pushed Will’s arm out of the way.  “I’ve seen it.”

“Lugh almighty,” Will muttered, staring at the cobbled-together clump of wood.  “What is it supposed to be, even?”

“You mean to say you don’t recognize the model?”

Will squinted at the area of the sculpture that ought to correspond to the place where a person’s face should go, though the charcoal-drawn features left rather a lot to the imagination.  “No.”

“Sure and certain, are you?”

“Pretty sure.”

Merlin tapped Will under the chin.  “Have a look in the mirror, William.”

Will’s horrified gaze snapped back to the figure in his hand.  “That is not me!” he protested.  “It’s not even smiling!”

“I know,” Merlin said.  “That’s how I know it’s a good likeness.”  

Will cuffed Merlin across the back of the head; Merlin, unperturbed, wandered back over to the remedy he’d been mixing, picking up his mortar and pestle and returning to his herb-grinding.  

“He worked on that for ages, you know,” Merlin remarked, sprinkling a spoonful of tiny seeds into his bowl.

Will turned the sculpture over in his hands, hoping in vain that it might look better from behind.  The piece was still woefully crooked, and the bits that were apparently meant to be arms had been attached to the body at wildly different heights, giving the impression that Wooden Will was either suffering from an unfortunate disorder of the spinal column or performing a very dramatic, one-sided shrug.

“He likes you,” Merlin commented.  

There was a hint of something slightly more serious to Merlin’s voice that time, an earnestness that prompted Will to avert his eyes.  He turned away and set the little figurine back down on the table, steadying its precarious wobbling until it could stand upright.  “So?  I like him, too.  He’s a likable little thing.”

“A likeable thing, yeah.  Not a very trusting one, though.”

“Bright of him, that.”��  

“He’s leery about people.”

Will busied himself with adjusting the figurine again, even though it was already balancing perfectly well on its own.  “Can’t say I blame him.”

“I don’t blame him, either,” Merlin said, his pestle thunking rhythmically against its bowl.  “But that’s a hard way to live, I think.”

Will stared at the figurine's comically unsmiling face.  “You'd know, I suppose,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t talking about me.”

Will knew perfectly well what Merlin had meant, but he would rather swallow an entire beaker of Gaius's violently green canker remedy than have this conversation.  

“He's got quite fond of you, you know,” Merlin offered, when Will did not say anything else.

“Good on him, Merlin.  I'm glad.”

“He trusts you,” Merlin persisted, in a quieter voice.  “He doesn't trust anybody.”

Will glanced surreptitiously at the window, wondering if he could avoid any more of this painful sincerity by jumping out of it.  Surely such a dramatic stunt would be enough to warrant a change of subject, even if Merlin could be more tenacious than Daegal, when he had a compliment to bestow, and especially when he knew Will would rather crawl out of his own skin than hear it.

Will shrugged, his eyes fixed on the open casement.  Thunk, thunk, went Merlin's pestle in its bowl.  

“What do you want me to say, Merlin?” Will said finally, profoundly uncomfortable.  “I'm a trustworthy fellow, aren’t I?”

The clinking of Merlin’s pestle stopped, and Will instinctively glanced over, only to find himself trapped by a frightfully fond gaze.  “That,” Merlin said softly, “is understating it, I think.”

Will was the first to look away, returning his fierce attention to the window.  Five steps to the casement, seven stories to the bottom.  

Merlin picked up his mortar and pestle again, returning to his work, the two stone tools knocking against one another as he ground up the handful of seeds.  Thunk, thunk.  

“Come sit with me for a bit,” Merlin said, after a moment, his tone light, like they hadn’t just been having a serious conversation, like Merlin hadn’t just been trying to say something horribly important, like he didn’t mind if Will pretended not to hear or never answered him back or declined to meet Merlin’s eyes for the rest of the day.  Will relaxed immediately, abandoning his contemplation of the window without a second thought, the same way he always did whenever Merlin asked him to come back, his resolve to run for it overpowered by an embarrassing wave of gratitude, one that unbalanced his guarded heart, leaving it as treacherously wobbly as the legs of Daegal's sculpture.  This, right here, was one of the things that Will liked best about Merlin, if it were even possible to enumerate such a list - that Merlin always knew, somehow, when Will was getting ready to go jumping out of windows, and that he always agreed to put a lid on things, in those moments, even though his kettle of affection was perpetually boiling over.   

Merlin did not believe in such a thing as too much love, Will knew.  But Merlin did understand that for some of them, at least, there was such a thing as too much at once.

Will joined him at the table, settling onto a worn oaken bench and resting his chin on his folded arms, watching Merlin’s pestle scrape along the sides of its corresponding bowl.  A summer breeze wafted in through the open casements, rustling bunches of dried herbs that dangled from the ceiling and ruffling a stack of parchment on the windowsill.  Outside, the bustle of the castle grounds was a distant medley of labor in progress - hunting hounds barking in the kennels, and the jingle of tack, and the distant rap rap of a hammer.

Will had his own work waiting for him out there, too.  But it could wait a little longer.

“One thing,” he murmured, staring down the table at Daegal’s creation, a faint frown creasing his brow.  “Not that it matters - I’m keeping it, whether or no...but I’ve just got to ask.  Did he paint it, or is that - ”

“Blood,” Merlin sighed, continuing to grind away.  “It’s blood.”

Will shook his head.  Of course it was.

[kitty-kat-ty]

A Jinpachi drabble

What's hidden behind that calm gaze

Disclaimer:

This is purely fiction.

Likely OOC, as his route hadn't come out yet.

There might exist grammar mistakes somewhere.

Type narrative.

Read at your own discretion.

Also it was written without any plot idea so it might be random. Just enjoy.

Inspired by the Claim me event on Nobuyuki's route, made it just for fun and because his seriousness has me curious and wishing to break his cool.

He walked towards his Lord's room as quietly as he always does when a loud yell from said room picked up his attention, his gaze sharpened as he approached the door, pushing it open slowly.

The noisy one was backed against the wall by the air, or so it appeared at first.

He walked into the room noticing his liege Lord wasn't on sight but a young woman in his stead staring at nothing.

"Who are you?" He spoke coldly, suspicious yet curious. 

Her reply was fast but you could read how shaken she was as it dragged on, "The new maid… I… please, kill it!" 

He didn't register what she meant until he addressed his gaze towards the 'object' she was looking at horrified. 

The little bug squirmed in what looked like a spider net, reaching for it, it was set free as he held the small bee in between his hands, walked over the window and let it fly away towards its freedom.

He saw it flying towards the garder, a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips, whilst his always hard stare softened ever so slightly.

Spinning around when quiet footsteps walked on his direction, his expression shifting once more to a blank one.

"Thank you, Sir. I thought I was gonna die for sure…" she said sincerely, yet he couldn't help but being wary of her. 

"You're welcome. Could you answer my question now? Why are you in this room alone?"

She blinked a couple times thinking about an answer. "I was sent here to deliver a package. I'm sorry if I barged into your room, Milord" she bowed apologetically.

His left eyebrow lifted for a brief second yet he controlled it once he noticed it, "You must learn to wait for an answer before you walk in" he warned yet wasn't going to correct her impression of him.

"I will next time. Thanks once more" she whispered yelled, turning around and sprinting away from the room.

His eyes followed her till she was out of his sight yet he didn't stop staring at the now closed door.

Minutes later his trance was broken when his liege Lord walked through the door with what seems a plate of sweets and tea.

"There you are. I was looking for you in the kitchen. Any news?" He put the plate on his table, grinning like the cat who got the mouse.

"No yet. There is nothing rising inside the castle, yet there is an unexplainable amount of new workers. It would take us a week to see if they are trustworthy."

"Hmmm… I see. Keep on the look. Also make sure father doesn't arrive just yet. I suspect they are spying on us  here."

"I will Nobuyuki! Milord. There was a new maiden here when I came to deliver my report. She was staggered against the wall because of…" he shut up before finish as he found it hilarious. 

"Uh?" He looked at his subordinate  amused yet intrigued. "Keep going, Jinpachi. What stopped her?"

He smiled softly, eyes focusing on the spider web "This. It was a bee in here. Also, she might have mistook me for the owner of this room"

Nobuyuki burst out laughing, eyes squeezing close, laughing to his heart's content, "You can't be serious… wait, you don't joke around. So this is true. See, you're so handsome you could pass like a real Lord, hahaha"

"This is a serious matter, Milord" he said awkwardly at that joke, but he didn't show it, "She likely thinks I'm the castle's Lord as she was led to this room".

Nobuyuki eyes gleam with mirth addressing at his personal assistant, "We can't go around lying cute maidens, can we?"

Jinpachi knew what he meant, he hadn't spent half his life working for this man for nothing, he knew where it was going and he didn't like it not even a bit.

"We shouldn't. Now if you excuse me" he bowed ready to walk out the door but Nobuyuki stopped him on his track, landing a hand on his shoulder, grinning but his eyes shining mischievously.

"It won't hurt anyone. Plus, see it this way. You can protect me better this way. They would think you are the Lord. All we need to do is tell our old staff what don't  sneak in this information." He pressed on.

Jinpachi locked eyes with Nobuyuki for what seems like an eternity, then a loud sigh was heard, "a week, no more" he said knowing his Lord would do anything to get his way. "But you must stay close. I can't unattend my responsibilities either."

Nobuyuki chuckled, "sure! I'll be your assistant now. This will be fun. Yukimura would make a fuss if he were to know about this."

He shaked his head, staring at the blue eyed Lord. "He's with your father but we have only a week before they arrive. You better not stray away." He asked, hoping this won't get out of hand.

By night time the old maids and retainers were informed to keep the lie and they should start acting as if Jinpachi were the castle's lord.

As told by the liege Lord, Jinpachi has to sleep in said man's room and Nobuyuki will sleep in the attic above it, he opposed it but Nobuyuki didn't want it otherwise. 

Days passed and finally they were having a hint of whose were the spies, the young Maiden was among them, or that's what Nobuyuki insisted on being set up as a practicing page for Jinpachi.

He knew his Lord did it out of amusement to see if he could get a reaction out of Jinpachi, yet the one flustered there was the girl herself. 

Her name is Merina, but everything about her life before her arrival to the castle is blurred, apparently she arrived asking for a place to work in after the lands where she used to live were taken by the war and she, as others were kicked out from their homes. At least that's what the girl who arrived with her said as Merina lost her memories as she was injured when war broke in.

She knocked the door, holding a big stack of letters in both her arms, using her head to knock on it.

From inside Jinpachi called in: "come in" suspecting who it was.

After a couple seconds of not seeing the door opening Nobuyuki made his way to it with a grin plastered on his features, sliding it open he saw her and chuckled helping her taking them from her. "I can't understand who would be this heartless as to send such beautiful girl holding this heavy letters"

She shook her head side by side smiling widely, bowing at his kind actions, "it's my duty. Also it was me the one who said who wanted to come in.." she looked in Jinpachi's direction, somehow happy to see him working so diligently.

Or what one could call work as he was assisting Nobuyuki on his duties, yes, to the outside world he was the one handling matters regardless of the castle and lands, but Nobuyuki himself was the one doing it. But it was fun to him being treated like an equal in his own castle.

"We thank you for your hard work" he said bowing to her briefly but then composed himself as he is the 'Lord'.

Nobuyuki settled the stack of paper on the desk and waved to her, "would you mind keeping company to our Lord? I have some matters to attend now. I'll be back right away" he said with his usual kind but persuasive tone which was difficult to refuse.

She felt guilty turning down such a request, nodding as she stepped into the room closer to Jinpachi, smiling brightly, somehow comfortable with his company.

"You're a lifesaver. I'll be back as soon as possible" he whispered in her ear before puffing away like a ninja.

Jinpachi wondered if his Lord had been training secretly lately trying to steal his job, his eyes landed on Merina as she sat in front of his desk, unsure what to do or how to help him.

It isn't like dealing with this is anything new to him, indeed his job requires he goes any length to get information or get his job done, but something about her was unsettling him.

"Would you mind ordering them by the sender's name?" 

She nodded, concentrated into it, maybe forcing herself to get distracted with it as she could feel his strong gaze piercing her soul.

Her heart beats as loud as drums resounding on her ears, biting her lips, preparing herself to speak up. 

He kept on sneaking looks at her whilst he read the stack left by his Liege Lord, but forming a new stack as he knows it needs his final approval.

"So… are your memories back?" He asked to break the silence, eyes fixed on her cowered frame in front of him as she reads.

Her hands stopped working, lifting her head meeting his eyes, those chocolate brown eyes which melt her to the core, as reflection she nodded but then denied it as the meaning sank in. 

"No yet… uh, I barely remember my house." She babbled, shifting her gaze to the right, trying to reminisce about the past.

He shook his head and spoke calmly, "Maybe those memories are painful. But how about making new ones?" He didn't even know why he suggested that, but couldn't stop himself from saying that out loud.

She grinned hopefully, eyes sparkling like diamond, "Can't hurt me, can it?"

He nodded, then a knock came at the door, he called them in, a tray with exquisite dishes was placed in the middle of the room, the one bringing them walked out of the room right after.

"Would you mind joining me?" He surprised himself as he kept on speaking his mind, yet his demeanor kept calm. 

"I'd love to!" She squeaked reaching for a plate but stopping herself when he didn't do the same, "Forgive my bold behaviour, Milord".

He chuckled softly, a rare sight to be honest, but one which would increase your heart ratio. 

Cheeks stained in a bright shade of pink, smiling back.

He nodded as giving her permission to get a hold of her favourite dish or anything of her liking.

Encouraged by it she grabbed the boiled dumplings with her chopsticks and brought them to her lips, parting them the moment they touched them.

Out of curiosity or maybe something deeper than that, his gaze didn't withdraw from her for a single second, his thoughts betraying him the same moment the soft pale dumpling was dragged in by her teeth and tongue. 

He twitched a little in his seat, averting his gaze, distracting himself reaching for some fried seaweed, bringing it fast to his lips almost to sate his sudden hunger.

She kept on eating happily, stealing glances at him, "what do you like the most?".

Although the innocence of her question it setted him off for a second, "what?!"

Tilting her head she grinned, her little fingers pointing to the tray, "which of them do you like the most?"

He let out a breath, then stared at the tray analyzing them. "All of them are good"

"Uh?" This didn't sate her curiosity, so she didn't hold it back, "there must be one which you like the most."

His heart and brain had an inner conflict about it, yet his mouth came out with a new conclusion, "the rice balls"

"This one?" Lifting one of them she stared at it, tilting her head side to side, then gave it a big bite missing the moment he flinched as reaction to her action. "This one is good.. salty kinda fishy but good so far" in no time it was gone.

This is part 1 of 2-3.

I could have gone straight to the spicy scene, but without building up their story I'd betray my own beliefs.

I still have a bunch on Docs but most of them need a good start or at least a start.

Any comment/suggestion is welcome. Give a like and share if you liked it.

Happy Tuesday ~ hopeful the spicy part be ready for Thursday.

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 13

AO3 || FFN 

The Road Home

The next day found Ron and Hermione on an adventure with the Grangers. Ron wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting of the day, but it certainly wasn’t anything he could have imagined. They’d packed a lunch, and taken a drive along the Great Ocean Road, making a pit stop in the Great Otway National Park for their picnic, enjoying the scenic nature that southern Australia had to offer. He was incredibly surprised that Hermione had suggested trying the Otway Fly Treetop Walk, given her fear of heights. She gripped his hand tightly for the majority of it as her parents congratulated Ron for helping her overcome one of her fears.

Ron and Hermione had agreed not to bring up anything about the Grangers’ future plans until the end of the day so as not to ruin the mood if things went awry. It was a good thing, too, as it was quite the drive when all was said and done. As they were driving back to Melbourne, Ron was thinking a lot about his future.

That morning he’d taken care to fill out his paperwork that Kingsley had sent, committing his availability for anytime after 20 June. Hermione had agreed on the date, and checked over his paperwork before sealing it up to send out before meeting her parents. They’d also touched base with Graham, letting him know they’d have a firm date for portkey travel within a day or two. Ron was relieved when Graham told them they were more than welcome to stay in the flat until they left. He knew the Grangers would have no doubt welcomed them into their home, but he found he quite liked the time alone he shared with Hermione.

As they were arriving back to the city, Ron felt Hermione’s hand rest on top of his as she gave it a squeeze. He could tell she looked nervous. In all honesty, he was too. They’d only been in Australia for a week, and she was already wanting to discuss returning home. Who knew how her parents would react? He hoped things would go smoothly. Ron was pulled out of his thoughts as Mr. Granger slowed down before turning into a public parking lot.

“Right on time,” Mr. Granger said as he parked the car. 

“Our dinner reservations are at this lovely restaurant just down the street. I think you’ll both really enjoy it,” Mrs. Granger added.

A short while later they were settled at their table. Hermione waited to say anything until after their orders were placed. Ron heard her clear her throat and knew that she was about to broach the subject. “So, Ron found out some big news yesterday,” she said nervously.

“Oh? What’s that?” Mr. Granger asked as Mrs. Granger looked on, giving him her full attention.

Ron gave Hermione a look out of the corner of his eye. This was definitely how he thought this was going to happen, and honestly, he was a bit annoyed that she’d pinned this on him. “Er, I received a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was in the Order with us, and is now the acting Minister of Magic.” He looked up to see them nodding in understanding. “Anyways, I’ve been invited to join the Auror training program.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful, Ron! Congratulations!” Mrs. Granger said as Mr. Granger nodded. They both seemed sincere.

“Ron’s been hoping for this since fifth year. It really is a great honor!” Hermione gushed. “They’re even shortening the training program to a year, and if he passes the academy he’ll be a junior Auror around this time next year!”

“It certainly does seem like an honorable career,” Mr. Granger said, “though I’m a bit surprised after everything you’ve been through that you’d want to go back into the field.”

Ron didn’t blame him for his hesitation. Hell, he and Hermione had even sort of discussed that last night, which resulted in him promising to be careful and that he’d always come home to her. “Well, yeah, but the work’s not over yet. There are stil de- er, bad guys out there, and I want to help catch them and bring them to justice. Even after they’re all accounted for, I still want to help make our world safer for everyone.”

He watched as Mr. Granger nodded at his words. It looked like he approved of Ron’s answer. “So when does all this start?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll, er, have to go back to England by the end of next week to be ready for a screening test with the Ministry. It needs to be done by the end of the month as training starts in July.” Ron explained.

“He had to follow through with this offer. It’s completely unheard of, but the force was significantly depleted because of the war, and they’re looking for trustworthy individuals. If Ron doesn’t seize this opportunity, then he’d have to apply and join with the following year of recruits and fulfill the three year training process,” Hermione explained.

Ron looked at Hermione. Now he knew exactly what she was doing. She was using his return as the scapegoat to bring up the conversation, and if things went sour, she could blame his need to return. He felt his ears grow hot at the realization. He knew better than to bring it up here, but that didn’t take away his displeasure.

“So you’re not going back to Hogwarts next year?” Mrs. Granger asked him.

“No. Even if I didn’t have this opportunity, I don’t think I could,” Ron admitted in a slightly hollow voice. 

“What about you, Hermione. Will you go back, then?” Her mother asked, picking up on Ron’s reluctance to talk about it and not pushing him further. He was thankful for that.

“Yes. We talked about that last night. My education is important to me, and I’d like to finish my final year now that it will be safe to return. I’m sure it will be challenging, but we’ll find a way to make it work.” Hermione offered an encouraging smile in Ron’s direction.

“So, that means you’ll need to be returning home to England soon,” Mr. Granger observed.

“Yes,” Hermione answered quickly. He was thankful she finally seemed to be taking over, as he was worried he’d be put in the middle of a conversation that was truly meant for them. “And I- well, I’m intending on returning with Ron when he goes back next week.”

Hermione’s mother gave her a sad smile. “We wouldn’t expect any less of you, dear. We figured you’d want to go back together.”

“H-have you thought anymore about whether you’ll return to England?” Hermione chanced. 

Ron watched as her parents shared a look with each other. “We have, actually,” her father said.

“As much as we love Australia, we do want to return to England. We’ll still need some time to get everything in order here, but we anticipate we’ll be able to move home in August,” Mrs. Granger added.

Ron watched as Hermione’s relief washed over her. She was instantly more relaxed, and he knew the toughest part of the conversation was over. At least that’s what he hoped.

“Hermione, I do need to ask,” her father said, “What exactly are we coming back to?” 

Ron looked at Hermione, who seemed thrown off by her father’s question. Mr. Granger must have sensed the same as he elaborated a bit more. “What of our practice? Is the house still in our possession? Sweetheart, I know you were trying to protect us, but please tell me you made arrangements for our lives back home.” 

Ron watched as Hermione took a sip of her water before answering. He remembered asking her the same questions last summer, and the only straight answer she’d given him was about the house. Seeing that she was freezing up, he attempted to jump in and rescue her.

“I think there are protective charms in place so it didn’t look completely vacant this year, so you’ll have your home to return to. Right, Hermione?” Ron looked at her and waited for her to nod before going on. “I’ll talk to my dad and brother about checking the house and completing a sweep to make sure it’s safe for you to return.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe for us to return,” Mrs. Granger asked. 

Ron was trying to avoid mentioning things like Death Eaters and magic in public, just in case there were nosy people around, but it looked like his efforts weren’t understood. “Er, we need to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went looking for Hermione, or even you both. They probably left traces behind that we need to check for.”

He looked across the table to see Mr. Granger nod with a look of understanding on his face as he leaned over and whispered something in his wife’s ear. “We’ll write to you straight away once things are safe to return. If anything’s damaged, I’ll make sure it gets fixed up as well,” Ron added.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Ron,” Mrs. Granger said sweetly. She turned to her daughter. “Hermione, what happened to our practice, dear?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment, no doubt thinking about what to say,  “I- you were to tell them you were going on sabbatical for one year to study the dental hygiene habits of various cultures around the world,” Hermione managed to say.

Her parents both thought over her answer. “That’s actually quite a brilliant idea you thought of,” her father told her.

“Yes, but now you’re going to return with no new knowledge!” Hermione sounded upset. “I- I really didn’t think it’d ever be safe for you to return, or that- that I’d be here right now.” She was trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Honey, it’s okay,” her mother said as she reached over to take her hand in reassurance. “We’ll find a way to sort this out. There’s no need to be worried or be upset.”

“Yes, if our practice is still running and we’ll have jobs to return, then you clearly did enough to ease our return,” Mr. Granger said.

 “Y-yes. They permitted you to take the year, but that was in early July so you’ll need to call them and give them an update I’m sure-”

“Well, that won’t be a problem at all. We’ll call first thing on Monday. It’ll be nice to chat with Wendy and see what’s been happening. There’s no need to worry about anything, Hermione” Mrs. Granger said happily.

“But what will happen when you come back with no research?” Hermione asked nervously.

Ron watched her parents work through that problem. “That shouldn’t be too much of an issue, actually. We aren’t working for a family practice here like we have back in England. There were openings with an emergency dental facility here, and we took up residence there. You’d be surprised how many tourists come in with cracked teeth and other mouth injuries! We’ve seen many patients from all over the world,” Mr. Granger explained.

Mrs. Granger let out a chuckle and added, “It’s almost as if you imparted some of that knowledge on what to pursue in us. I actually began taking notes on what we were seeing a few weeks after being hired, and in our downtime I’ve been researching what could have influenced the injury. It’s been quite fascinating to study.”

Ron leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear, “See how brilliant you are? You even managed to guide them with what to do here.”

Hermione finally allowed herself to smile as their meals arrived. Ron listened as her parents began detailing all of the barmy situations they’d witnessed as they tucked into their dinner. Things seemed like they were going to work out easier than Ron had anticipated. 

~o~

When Mr. Granger pulled up to their flat to drop them off, Ron was surprised when Hermione invited her parents inside for tea. They’d accepted, but promised they wouldn’t stay for more than a cup, as everyone was knackered from the day’s. As they let themselves into the apartment, Hermione put the water on as they sat at the table. 

Thankfully, things were picked up so he wasn’t embarrassed by clothes or other belongings lying about, but there was still parchment scattered across the table. Ron took it upon himself to stack the parchment and get it out of the way, when Mrs. Granger stopped him.

“What’s all that paper for?” she asked.

“Just for writing letters. We only sent my application back today along with a letter I wrote thanking Kingsley, but I’ll need to write Harry and my Mum to let them know when we’ll be home. Sorry for the mess,” Ron muttered.

“Oh! Do you think I could borrow one sheet? I’d love to write to your parents and thank them for everything they’ve done for Hermione. They’ve truly been so kind over the last few years,” Mrs. Granger gushed.

“Er, sure,” Ron said as he handed her one of the sheets. “I can send it out tomorrow morning with the others.”

Mrs. Granger smiled sweetly at Ron as she pulled out a pen and began writing. After Hermione passed out the mugs with the tea, she sat down in the vacant seat. They settled into easy conversation as Mr. Granger discussed all the things he missed about England and how he was excited to get back. 

“We should be able to partake in some of the later summer festivals,” he commented. “Hermione, you should take Ron to Chessington. He’d love it!” 

“What’s Chessington?” Ron asked.

“It has nothing to do with chess, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a theme park with rides and activities.”

“Rides?” Ron asked, clearly confused.

“Think of it like riding a broom, but instead you’re in a compartment of sorts and they run on electricity,” Hermione said with a laugh.

Ron wasn’t sure what to think about it, but he supposed he’d be interested in trying it.

“You’ll love it, I’m sure,” Mrs. Granger said as she folded her letter and addressed it to Mrs. Weasley. She handed the letter to Ron and looked at her daughter. “Will you be coming home to stay with us once we’re settled, dear? We wouldn’t want you to be an imposition at the Weasley’s once we’re home.”

“Oh, I- I don’t know. I guess that would make sense,” Hermione admitted. “Especially if you’re in training,” Hermione said with a shrug.

“Ron, you’ll be welcome to visit and stay any time as well. I think it’s about time we returned the favor after all those summers, don’t you think?” Mrs. Granger said.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Ron said with a smile, even though his heart was sinking.

He should have seen this coming. Of course they were worried about Hermione’s parents wanting to come home, but they’d been so focused on that, that neither had thought about the repercussions of their living situation. Well, at least he had until August before he had to think about it.

“Well, I think we should get going,” Mrs. Granger said. “We’re scheduled for a shift, but we’ll be in touch after.”

“Thank you for everything today,” Ron said.

“Yes, it was lovely!” Hermione agreed as the bid goodbye to her parents. 

Once Hermione shut the door, Ron returned to the table to begin writing to Harry as she cleaned up. “I’m going to tell Harry we’re requesting a portkey for Wednesday if that’s alright,” Ron said to Hermione.

“Sure, as long as Graham can arrange that. It’ll give us another few days with my parents, at least,” Hermione agreed.

Ron didn’t answer her as he went back to his letter. He really didn’t want to pick a row, but he was still annoyed over dinner. Ron realized that he’d been gripping the quill a bit too hard when he saw his knuckles were white. He was glad he didn’t press down too hard and cause himself to poke through the parchment. Signing his letter to Harry, he set the quill down and folded it before moving on to a quick letter to his parents. 

He was vaguely aware that Hermione had moved into the bedroom as he finished his writing. Ron set the three letters in a stack on the table before pushing the chair in and checking the lock on the door. When he entered the bedroom, he walked over to grab a fresh set of clothes. 

“I’m going to have a shower,” he told Hermione, who had already gotten into bed and was looking at him with hopeful eyes.

He tried to ignore the fall of her face as he walked into the bathroom. Maybe she doesn’t realize what she did earlier, Ron thought, giving her the benefit of the doubt as he turned on the water. The hot spray of water felt good on his skin as he let the water wash over him. His thoughts continued to wander back to dinner, and how Hermione brought up the Aurors first, trying to weigh both sides of what could have possessed her to start with his job offer.

  The door opened, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Ron?” he heard Hermione call his name. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet since dinner. Should I not have invited my parents in for tea?” 

Ron could imagine the frown that was on her face as he shut the water off. He reached around the curtain for his towel before answering. The curtain remained closed. 

“No, it wasn’t tea,” he told her as he dried himself off.

“Then what is it?” she asked.

“Why did you bring up the Aurors with your parents?” he asked her as he wrapped the towel around himself and pulled the curtain back.

“I- I wanted to tell them. I thought we agreed to tell them. It’s such an honor, I thought you’d want to share the news and celebrate,” she said, a look of confusion on her face.

“Sure, but the way it sounded was that you were using it as a lead in for discussing our return to England and asking them about their plans,” Ron told her.

She furrowed her brow as she looked at him. “I didn’t-”

“Save it, Hermione. Luckily it went over alright and everything worked out, but if it hadn’t, I would have been the bad guy because I need to return to England for an appointment.”

Hermione was shaking her head. “I- I didn’t think about it that way, honest. I just thought it would be the easiest way to start the conversation.”

“So you did deliberately start it that way,” Ron said. Ron wanted to move around her, or at least get dressed, but she was blocking the door of the small bathroom.

“I-”

“Next time you’re planning that, maybe tell me first next time. I know you’re trying to rebuild your relationship with your parents, but as your boyfriend, I also have a relationship to maintain with them, too, and I don’t appreciate what you did.”

 “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that,” she apologized to him.

Ron took a deep breath, “Well, remember we’re a pair now, yeah?”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to it yet…” she said quietly as she looked up at him through her lashes.

As if a switch was flipped, the animosity he’d been feeling all evening had suddenly vanished. There was no way he could stay mad at her, especially when she was standing there in one of his tees, and looking at him with those sad eyes. It was as if his mind and his body had suddenly remembered that it’d been all day since he’d held her and kissed her. 

He was overcome with need as he reached out and pulled her close to him, his lips crashing into hers. Her hands were cold against his body, but he didn’t care, as his own reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. They made their way clumsily to the bed, shedding her clothes and his towel, before picking up where they left off that morning.

A short time later, they were cuddling in bed, both thoroughly satisfied now that the misunderstanding had been cleared up. “How do you feel about me moving back in with my parents in August?” Hermione asked.

“Not great,” Ron answered honestly, “but I get it.”

“I feel like I’ll need to, but it’ll be rather odd after being away for so long,” she thought out loud.

“What if you split your time? And I could split mine? So we could at least see each other as much as possible,” Ron offered. He had no idea what his training schedule would look like, but he wanted to make it clear that she would still be a priority for him.

“That could work...but do you think they’d actually let us sleep in the same bed?” Hermione mentioned.

“Well, I think maybe Mum’ll come around when we’re back, and your parents are already aware that we’re sharing a bed here, so…”

“That’s true,” Hermione agreed. “And we are adults, technically..”

“Exactly. Who knows, maybe Harry is planning on fixing up Grimmauld Place after all, and if I move in with him, we wouldn’t have to worry about Mum.”

“Do you think he’s going to?”

“He’s mentioned it a couple times. I don’t think he wants to be an imposition to Mum anymore either, even though he’s not,” Ron told her.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind that plan if he does,” Hermione said as she leaned up to kiss him. “Things have a funny way of working themselves out, so maybe we shouldn’t worry so much about it.”

Ron laughed. Truer words had certainly never been spoken. Ron held her close as he let the exhaustion from the day wash over and lull him to sleep. He felt more confident and secure in their relationship with every passing day. Even though there were so many unknowns of what the future would hold, especially with the coming year, Ron knew that somehow they’d make it through. There was one thing he knew for sure: no matter what life would throw at him, he’d be able to overcome anything as long as he had her by his side.

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon pt. 12

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 11

Part 12(HERE)

Part 13

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Jason had started cackling as soon as Tim explained why he was cross, pulling the ring from his hand and tossing it back to its proper owner. Damian Bruce and Alfred were intrigued by the prospect by the fact Jason was predestined to be a miraculous wielder. Dick, on the other hand, was pouting at Jason being ‘officially more of a cat than him.’

“You’re not a black cat,” Tim snapped, using the door frame to stay upright, glaring at the stark white number over Jason’s head, “He may claim he’s all about destruction but it’s who he was made into not who he is at his core.”

“What?” Jason huffed, “You’re the one that said my number went up to 15! I’m a cat now, I’m leaving the birds to join Selina.”

“No,” He nearly growled in frustration, staggering over to the couch, “Adrian is the real cat here. At his core, he’s sweet and kind and trustworthy, but he also has chaos at his center. He can destroy a person he believes deserves it without a second thought, tarnish a reputation permanently with no remorse if he believed it was the best course of action, manipulate a person into behaving how he wants with precision and grace without anyone realizing that the ray of sunshine would be able to do so. He’s literally destruction. You aren’t like that Jason, not at your core. You’re a true holder, but you aren’t a Black Cat.”

The room was silent as he finally finished and he couldn’t help, but look around at their stunned faces with confusion. Even the Kwamis had frozen from where they had been whispering on the side table, glancing between each other and Tim.

“What?” He snapped, too tired to deal with anything else tonight.

“You’ve only just met Adrian,” Kim drew out, “And just spouted off stuff I never knew about the sunshine boy with such confidence I’m pretty sure you’re not lying.”

“What do you mean? Of course, I know that stuff, can’t you guys tell it too? That’s just what I can tell from observing if I really wanted to know anything important about him I’d have to do research,” He explained with a groan as he leaned against Dick’s shoulder.

Dick just looked down at him in amazement, “No Timmy, most people can’t tell that kind of stuff just from spending a few hours with someone.”

“Huh? You guys never acted like I was crazy before,” He pointed out looking at his brothers.

“I always assumed you researched our targets before we needed the information,” Bruce hummed, “We had meant to ask you how you knew some of the skills you had listed when you had never met the heroes before making the entries in your journal.”

“I mean I did look up some stuff, but isn’t most of that stuff common knowledge?”

Jason snorted, “I didn’t know Bruce spoke Portuguese before reading his journal entry, replacement. I can say with confidence that there’s no video footage of B or Bats speaking or reading Portuguese anywhere or any reason you should know that before I even kicked the bucket.”

“I…” Tim tried to think back, to why he knew this information, where he had put together the man had known so many languages.

“Tim,” Marinette piped up, “What languages does everyone in here speak?”

“French and English.”

His deadpan earned an eye roll from her, “No, I meant past that. Start with your family and then my team, tell me all the languages. Go.”

He was skeptical of what she was trying to do but decided not to question it, “All the bat speak Mandarin, Spanish, Arabic, and BSL. Bruce knows Romanian, Portuguese, Dutch, Cantonese, and Greek. Alfred speaks German, Italian, Japanese, Russian, and Polish. Dick speaks Romani, Romanian, Dutch, and Russian. Jason has Portuguese, Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and Russian. I can do Japanese, Romanian, German and Polish.

Damian knows Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and is just short of fluent in Romanian.”

His eyes turned to the Parisian teens, ignoring the surprise at their extensive list of languages, “ Adrian knows Mardiran and Japanese. Chloe knows Japanese. Kim is fluent in Vietnamese and is nearing passable in German. Max knows Korean and Safan. Alix knows Ancient Egyptian and Arabic. Kagami knows Japanese and Mandarin. Viperion knew quite a bit of Italian but wasn’t quite fluent. Marinette knows Italian, is nearly fluent in Arabic and… actually, I’m not sure what the last one is, but it’s ancient, something close to Sino-Tibetan I think?”

Eyes flashed around the room, before settling on Tim.

“Seriously?” Tim groaned, “None of you knew that?”

Jason's eyes flashed to Damien, “Since when do you speak Romanian?”

He scowled, the tips of his ears burning, “It was going to be a surprise for Grayson, I was hoping to be fluent by his birthday…”

Marinette broke in before any of the brothers could make a comment, “Tim, Damien only practiced Romanian when he knew everyone was out of the house. Nor should you know about the Guardian Language.”

“Guardian Language?” He whispered, head too fuzzy for him to process more than that.

She winced a little, “When the role of Guardian was handed over to me, the language of the Guardians was basically downloaded into my head. It allows me to read the Guardian Grimoire and perform the spells within it to heal kwamis, fixing broken miraculous or create potions to allow them different abilities they don’t usually possess. Usually, there’s a lot of training to be able to deal with the new knowledge being shoved into their heads but my gaining of the guardianship was more than a little unorthodox so I had to deal with migraines for about six months after. I had to decode the secrets for myself even with knowing the language.”

“I don’t even know what the Guardian is,” Tim whispered as the truth set it, “I really shouldn’t know this stuff about you guys…”

“Another aspect of your power, no doubt,” Alfred cut in, “Hardly the worst thing in the world for a detective to have intuition-based knowledge of the people he’s looking up, hmm?”

Tim laughed, “Thanks, Alfred.”

The butler merely nodded, “However, I am fairly certain Master Tim hasn’t been truthful about how much sleep he’s gotten this week and a miraculous drain is dangerous even when well-rested, I suggest suspending this discussion until a proper hour?”

Damien gave him an innocuous look, “ You tried to lie to Pennyworth? Are you completely braindead.”

“Panicking over my secret being out means lots of comfort coffee,” He groaned back as he attempted to bury himself in Dick’s side.  

“Go to sleep Replacement,” Jason huffed, as Dick pulled the other man to his feet. Zombie Tim's duty was something they all had plenty of experience in. It wasn’t long before he was stripped of his costume and sweatpants and an oversized tee pulled on over his bike shorts.

Tim barely registered the lights being turned off as he was bundled into bed, half asleep already.

When Tim arose the next morning he was surprised to see it was only 8 am, seven hours after when he remembered his brother’s getting him to bed. Typically, after the kind of crash, he felt last night he needed a solid thirteen hours of sleep and two cups of coffee to feel this alive again. His answer came from the tiny horse resting on the nightstand.

“Kaalki? What are you doing here?”

“Kwami healing,” She offered in an attempt to be nonchalant as she floated up in front of him, “ Tikki is best at it but every Kwami, barring Plagg, can offer some form of rejuvenation to those who need it. My way of healing is to replenish the energy that has been lost in a timely manner. It was the least I could do after causing you so much distress last night.”

Tim frowned and offered a flat hand for her to land on, “Don’t do that, there’s no blame on you or Marinette or anyone else. Accidents happen, and it’s not like there’s an instruction book on miraculous and metas.”

She fidgeted, “I believe you are correct but I still felt bad for causing such harm to befall you.”

Tim just shook his head, “Either way, thank you. I feel amazing right now.”

She smiled, “Perhaps if you hurry you can join your family for breakfast, I heard they were setting out to leave soon.”

He quickly pulled on his clothes and did his morning routine in the ensuite before entering the main room where his family froze in place as they were pulling on coats and shoes.

“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jason hissed, ready to force him back into bed.  

“Kwami magic has its perks,” Tim defended, hands raised in surrender as Kaalki floated next to him, “I feel more awake then I have in years.”

Alfred grinned, “Ah yes, I remember how Duusu would help us relax after battles. Well come along then,

Marinette squinted at him judgingly, trying to figure out how he was allowed out by his family before Kaalki darted from his jacket over to Max’s. Instead, she just huffs and begins leading the entire group of heroes towards her parents’ bakery, Damien quickly falling in step to her left, glaring at Adrian who had fallen into step on her right.

“SO, replacement,” Jason drawled, dropping an arm around the short brother’s shoulders, “I didn’t get to ask last night cause you looked more zombie then me, but if I’m not a cat, what am I?”

“I don’t even know where to start with miraculous,” Tim huffed, pushing the older man away, “Where would I even start with which miraculous to give to you?”

“Well, how about we give you a starting point,” Adrian asked, turning to walk backwards so he could look at them with a twinkling smile, “Miraculous are broken into two categories, indirect and direct. Direct miraculous powers affect the target of the power directly like the Bee’s venom freezing someone, while the Indirect affect the world around the target, like the Horse’s teleportation. The Black Cat and Ladybug fall outside of the groupings as they’re both direct and indirect. Indirect users can’t use Direct miraculous effectively and can even have adverse effects of transforming too long and vice versa. So does Jason feel like a direct or indirect holder.”

“Indirect,” Tim started, finding the words just started flowing as he stared at the 11 swirling about over his brother’s head, “Jason’s cocky and more stubborn than the Blue Boyscout if you get him going, but he’s also loyal to a fault and filled with so much determination I’m not sure whether to be scared or impressed. No matter how angry he is at someone, or how much he thinks they deserve the consequences of their actions he will be there to protect them by any means necessary. He may talk tough and act stupid but he’s unbelievably wise with instincts unparalleled by normal humans when it comes to trust and how to get out of sticky situations. He can and will kill, but only if it’s the only option left to make it out of a situation alive.”

Jason scowled and pulled on the end of his jacket sleeve as he looked away, “Geez, rip me open why don’t you?”

“Hey, you asked,”

Marinette stared at him with a cryptic eye, “No, he’s right I can see it. I think I know what miraculous to give you.”

Tim’s attention fell away from the conversation as Jason tried to pry the newly found information from the young Guardian. Because that was the least of his worries.

Not when his eyes landed on vibrant blue hair, strikingly familiar, attached to a man sitting on the wall around the Seine, strumming his guitar absentmindedly.

“Found you,” Tim said, causing the man in front of him to smile up at him.

“That was quick,” He laughed, the thick gothic steel-colored 13 made his blue eyes take on a silver hue.

“It’s easy to spot such a high number when most don’t reach past six,” He shrugged.

“You and I aren’t very different, you know?” Steely grey 13 offered, looking back to his guitar.

“I think the masks gave that away,” Tim mussed, “I’m Tim.”

“Luka, Luka Couffaine,” Steely Grey 13, Viperion, Luka offered easily, “And I meant past the masks.”

“How do you mean then, Luka?”

The younger man looked up at him and waved a hand at the chair across from him, “How about you take a seat, Uccellino, and we can compare notes on what it’s like to be meta.”

____________________________________________

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[itsclydebitches]

Giving it some thought, the entire subplot of trust and truth started in Volume 4, when Qrow first tells RNJR about Salem and the Maidens. Paraphrasing, Ruby says that she believes Qrow because she trusts him, but then asks "Why couldn't you trust me? Why couldn't you just travel with us instead of all this... secrecy, and-". I don't know what to make of it, because even back then it felt a little... I don't know, heavy-handed? And then it's made a central theme of V7 and it's even more ???

The problem with Team RWBY/RNJR - or rather, the problem with how they’re written - is that they conflate strategy and caution with a lack of trust. Meaning, the people around them have very good reasons for not divulging certain information at certain times and/or not doing certain things at certain times because that’s dangerous. It’s not a matter of trusting someone in the way Ruby means (willing to follow someone, willing to believe that they’re striving for the right thing) but a sheer matter of practicality. Qrow says it straight out: “this has nothing to do with trust.” 

Why didn’t he travel with them? Because he has a bad luck semblance that does all sorts of awful things to the people around him, like drawing more grimm, causing beams to fall, or tires to blow on your one mode of transportation. Qrow didn’t travel with them because that was the smart, practical move in a hostile world, not because he doesn’t trust his niece. Now, we can change the question to, “Why didn’t you trust us with the knowledge of your semblance?” and that gets into the complicated can of worms, “Because this has been a traumatic thing that I’m still working through and I’m terrified that people will leave me when they find out about it.” A fear that more of this group should understand by now. Why didn’t Jaune immediately tell his team that he snuck his way into Beacon? Why did Blake hide that she was a faunus? Do we even see Ruby tell her teammates about her super secret eyes or does the narrative just assume that everyone found out at some point (I honestly don’t remember...)? Everyone has secrets and parts of themselves that are incredibly difficult to talk about. The inability to admit to them unless pressured - which is precisely what Nora does to Qrow here - is not an indication of a lack of trust. It’s an indication of the group’s lack of emotional maturity that they thought then, and still think now, that everyone around them owes them every single piece of themselves. It’s an immaturity seen most overtly in Yang who believes that Ozpin isn’t trustworthy unless he divulges every piece of information that might possibly be deemed a secret, while simultaneously keeping secrets about her Mom being the Spring Maiden, Salem’s immortality, and Robyn’s knowledge of Amity. It’s a child’s logic to honestly believe, “Well this applies to you but not me because I’m just different.” A perspective that I thought the group was being set up to grow out of. 

Because this theme of trust vs. practicality continues in the conversation when Jaune wants to know why the whole world hasn’t been told about Salem. Qrow, via Ozpin’s teachings, has very smart and proven reasons for keeping things quiet: 

“Hey,” asks the teenager who has had one year of combat training and has only been in one non-grimm battle, a good portion of which he spent arguing with his teammate and trapped in a locker. “Why haven’t we told the whole world about the woman out to kill them and the magical relics she wants?” 

“Well,” responds the elite huntsmen who has been fighting in this war at least as long as they’ve been alive, “Because history has shown us that people panic when they learn stuff like that. Murder young women for their power panic (women like Pyrrha!). Try to steal the magical relics for themselves panic. Turn on each other panic. Start a new war between kingdoms and descend the world into chaos panic. And, as they’re about to find out via Lionheart, Join the witch instead of fighting her panic. We see in that final shot of Jaune that he doesn’t like hearing this, but he seems to understand it. Grudgingly. Problem is, this understanding doesn’t last. 

With all the info out in the open Ruby asks what they’re supposed to do and Qrow responds with, 

The looks everyone exchange are terrified. 

For the record, this isn’t bad writing. They’re barely trained kids. They should be looking to their authority figures and then be blindsided with the adults don’t have one easy, magical solution to grant them. That’s a part of growing up. What Qrow offers them instead is the adult solution: we do what we can. We’ll continue on to Haven where Lionheart should have been making preparations. We’ll see what he knows and work from there. Sorry I don’t have a ‘Defeat Salem and Make Everything Perfect’ plan hidden up my sleeve, but this is what fighting a war is really like. 

What does all this have to do with trust? The fact that the group learns nothing from this conversation. When more information about Salem is revealed - her immortality - Ruby asks the same question of Ozpin that she did Qrow: So... how are you, as an individual, going to fix everything for us? When he, like Qrow, has nothing simple to offer them they turn violent (and the fact that Qrow expressed the most overt violence just goes to show how little RT bothered to think through how each person would respond to this information). The group continues to conflate information with trust. Information in terms of “Share all your secrets” and information in terms of “We expect an easy solution to our problems.” When people fail to provide them with that - such as Ironwood having a plan but it’s not a plan they like because it hurts Mantle - they’re deemed “untrustworthy.” 

Now again, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing... if the group were on a track to grow out of this behavior. It’s not a bad thing to have Ruby be pissed that (to her mind) Qrow didn’t trust her, to think that Ozpin is untrustworthy because he didn’t share everything with them... and then slam her into a situation where she has the information and she realizes, “Oh shit. I’m too scared to tell Ironwood this right out. I want to keep this information hidden until I’m sure it’s safe to share and I feel it’s the right time. Even then it’s really hard to share it... Uncle Qrow and Ozpin were right.” Instead, the writing did the exact opposite. Ruby’s perspective and  her behavior is reinforced - she’s supposedly right to equate trust with sharing ever piece of information, the ability to provide perfection, and people’s willingness to follow her orders to the letter despite her having no power next to elders, more powerful fighters, and military rank - but the story ignores the hypocrisy of her doing the same things she damns everyone else for. She doesn’t share information. She doesn’t follow orders. She has no plan and is set to get everyone killed. The show set up a moment for the group to actually start growing up and mature emotionally in the face of an ethically complicated war... and instead had Qrow randomly insist that Ruby is simply different and special. She is, intrinsically, simply Better than everyone else and you’re not supposed to ask why. By extension, so is her team. Everyone from Nora to Oscar to Jaune insists loudly that telling the council, or Mantle, or the whole world about Salem is the One Good Answer here despite the fact that the narrative - via Qrow above and in numerous key scenes since Volume 3 - has given us numerous reasons why that’s a terrible idea and zero reasons why it’s a good one. But the story is no longer interested in weighing these perspectives and having the characters learn to make informed decisions. Even when lives are on the line. 

It comes down to an incredibly biased perspective by the writers. By working under the ironclad assumption that your young protagonists are always right and your older supporting characters are inevitably wrong, you get situations wherein we’re shown a situation where Team RWBY is wrong and the adults do have a point... and then we swerve at the last second to insist otherwise. Qrow is shown as having good reasons for keeping his distance, but Ruby says he didn’t trust her. Cordovin has good reasons for not letting kids across a closed border, but Ruby says she forced them to steal. All evidence points to the Ace Ops kicking Team RWBY’s ass, but Ruby says they’re stronger. That’s what drives the show nowadays: whatever Ruby claims is the truth. If the show actually followed what it had laid out on screen, rather than what Ruby insists to be true, then this show would now be a tragedy. Here’s the story of what happens when you give traumatized teens the power to try and save the world. Being forced into this war so early and receiving the gut-punch that the adults around them are imperfect immediately after a near kidnapping is something they couldn’t handle. The nuance of a 1,000 year strategy-based war is something they couldn’t handle. When you take a girl who wants to fight monsters like in the storybooks and put her in charge years before she’s ready... she’s going to insist that life will turn out like a storybook. So she’ll bravely fight an immortal witch with an army under the assumption that everything will somehow turn out alright. Except it doesn’t and everyone dies. The End. 

RWBY should have been a story of growth. At this point it logically should be a story of tragedy. What we’ll actually get though is that happy ending based on Team RWBY’s version of “trust” and “friendship” that is inherently contradictory to everything seen on screen... but we’re expected to just run with it because they’re the title characters.

[dissonantaki]

Claire de Lune

“What’s his character like?”

The woman adjusting Kaede’s button-up shirt glanced up at her as she asked. “You mean Saihara, yes?”

“I mean Saihara,” Kaede repeated, nodding.

She sighed, folding the cuffs of her sleeve to the length she needed them. “You have to get this through your head, Akamatsu-san, or you’re not going to make a very effective mastermind. This isn’t Saihara’s ‘character’. Unlike you, he isn’t playing a part. Look at me, will you?” Kaede did as she was told. “This is who he is now. The kid you knew is gone. He signed himself away to become somebody new.”

Kaede looked away from the woman, staring off into blank space. She’d spent an extreme amount of emotion on this subject already, so now every time the subject was brought up, it just made her feel... numb. “R-Right. So what’s he like? You said you were going to put me in the locker next to him.”

“Well, we can’t quite say how his character development will turn out— you’ll have to maneuver that. But he’ll be the detective that your old friend wanted him to be. Just with... less murderous intent. Shy, reclusive, intelligent— unsure of himself. If you want to get him to trust you, you’ll need to build him up.”

Kaede slowly nodded. “Got it.”

The woman fixed the collar of Kaede’s shirt, before taking the few music-note hairclips and putting them in Kaede’s hair. In silence, she led the other girl to the mirror. “This is how we expect you to look when you leave your dorm in the morning. Note the placement of the hairclips and the way your hair sits on your shoulders. You’ll need to straighten it daily.”

Kaede took a deep breath.

“Understood?“

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. At the new person staring back at her. A visual representation of the complete and utter mess she’d signed herself away to. “U-Understood.”

_

“It’s still crazy to think about, you know?”

“Wait, s-sorry, I don’t know if I follow... what’s crazy to think about?”

“Oh, I’m not trying to discredit your theory!” Kaede quickly assured the other. “It’s just... hard to think about. That there’s someone in our group of students that’s behind all this. I mean... I’ve only known them for a few days, but I don’t think any of them would do something like this.” She knew full well that none of the other students were behind all of this— Kaede was just trying to spark conversation and keep her fake identity up while doing it.

“Ah, um... yeah. Of course, it’s not helpful that we don’t really know anybody here. I mean, I’ve heard of Hoshi before. But he’s also killed before, so it’s not like he’s completely trustworthy,” Shuichi pointed out. “To be suspicious of them in a situation like this is one thing. But it’s something entirely different to suspect them of kidnapping the rest of us and forcing us into a death game. I understand where you’re coming from.” 

“It’s okay, though. We have time,” Kaede added. “More than enough time. We’re doing a good job— we’re taking action and trying to catch the mastermind in their tracks. I don’t think it’s silly to hope that... nobody might actually die.” Of course it was silly, but...

Shuichi let himself smile a bit, looking off to the side and nodding. “Yeah, I... I think that’s possible,” he nodded.

Kaede felt a sinking feeling of guilt in her stomach that she immediately shoved down further.

_

“Listen! God, just listen to me!” Kaede screamed, glad these dorms were soundproof. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! You just ordered a sixteen-year-old to kill her friend and now you’re telling to calm down now that I did it?!”

“Akamatsu-san, we need you to—”

“You watched! You watched how much of my free time I spent with him! He should have made it to a trial, at the very least, after all that effort he put into surviving V2! He was my goddamn friend, and you made me kill him! And now...” Kaede choked back a sob. “Now wh-what are you going to do? I’m the mastermind, I... I need to stick around to the end! What’s going to happen in the trial? Please, please don’t kill me, you can’t do that when you ordered me to kill him in the first place...!”

“Akamatsu-san.” the voice in her headpiece snapped. “Be quiet and listen. We’ll stage an execution. Everything will be fine. You’ll be safe. You can be the mastermind from behind the scenes. Are you listening?” That earned a weak hum of approval from Kaede. “Let them figure it out themselves. If they seem to be heading down the wrong path, you can guide them towards the answer. Confess. Accept your fake death and fake being upset that you killed him. Give Shuichi something to use for character development.”

Fake being upset. There won’t be any need for that. I’ll just use what I really feel. Kaede hadn’t heard the ‘Understood?’ this time, but she could just tell that it’d happened, and she responded like usual.

_

“Enough, you guys. I’ve... already prepared myself.”

Shuichi blinked. “You’re... giving up? But why? You said... we’d never give up... that we’d get out of here together... so why are you giving up now?! Did you mean what you said? I... I know we can do something! Don’t give up until the end!“

Kaede shook her head. “...I’m not giving up. Because I have you. Even after I’m gone... my wish will still be here. So I’m counting on you! I’m entrusting my wish to every one of you!” she insisted, her voice getting louder. Why... why did it have to be like this...? “I believe in you...! I believe that you will all make it through this, somehow!” This was all wrong... why did it turn out like this? “You guys better live! Don’t go dying on me now! End this ridiculous killing game, survive, and get the hell out of this place!” She glanced up at Shuichi, who was clearly doing his best to hold back tears. Kaede glanced around the whole trial room. “And then... be friends after you escape, okay? I think you’ll all be the best of friends.”

After a quiet, hesitant moment, the students started to agree— committing themselves to Kaede’s wish one by one. But Kaede knew it’d never work. It’d end with a tiny group surviving or just her. There was no other option.

“Now, then! I’ve prepared a very special punishment for the Ultimate Pianist, Kaede Akamatsu~! Let’s give it everything we’ve got! Iiiiiit’s punishment time~!”

From out of nowhere, a chain with a collar reached out of the walls, clamping around Kaede’s neck while she was still on her trial stand and yanking her back, up, and out of the room. Instinctively, she reached out for Shuichi to save her— from the execution that she’d temporarily forgotten wasn’t real, from her contracts, from Danganronpa. He reached out, too, but they were far too distant from each other for them to join hands.

She could only handle ten seconds of being pulled back violently by her neck before her world went black.

_

Kaede woke up to bright lights and a nearly spotless room. Even though it was a little bit painful, she managed to sit up, glancing around the room. It resembled some kind of hospital room, but once the events before she’d passed out came back to her returned, she figured that it had to be a room in the Danganronpa headquarters— they’d want to keep her on-site.

A TV mounted in the corner of the room caught her eye. Is that my lab? She blinked for a moment. Is that Shuichi? Is that...?

Her favorite song. Easily recognizable. That’s right... she’d mentioned that song to him as something she wanted to play for him in the last hours of the motive. That memory, combined with the wish she’d given to him— she’d been requested to prompt character development, and she’d certainly managed that. He was determined to find the mastermind and end the game now— which wouldn’t bode well for the pianist if he succeeded.

Would he have decided to keep Kaede’s wish if he knew that it had the capacity to kill her in the end? That question rang over and over again in her mind; the only sound in the room to Kaede, other than the whirring of the air conditioner and the beeping of the machine attached to her.

Would he decide to keep my wish if he knew that it might kill me in the end?

[letswritebangtan]

Brave Tender Heart 01 | Beware of the Past

pairing: princess!reader x knight!jungkook

Chapter 01

The garden was priceless, and so whoever entered it was taking a risk of their lifetime. One wrong move against the ample nature that lay there and they would lose whatever they had left. A blossoming tree stood on an elevated patch of wet grass. It’s branches extended towards different directions as if each one of them wanted a different route in life. The crystal pond that sat still that afternoon although the movement underneath went unnoticed. The grass was all at an equal length giving them no sense of individualism, unlike the branches. The castle’s gardeners moved with a purpose, took a step where a step needed to be taken and touched only what needed to be touched. The white bird soared high and landed on the blossoming tree. He watched over the creatures who filled the garden and took the opportunity to gaze at this rare sight. Humans were never allowed in the garden, seeing this, the white bird was unhappy. 

As a man reached to snip the grass, the white bird flapped its wings ferociously and took a dive aiming for the most vulnerable part of the body. The face. 

“And which one of you allowed this peasant in?” the prince roared. 

The garden was hurt, the gardener’s scissors had left a painful scar in its soil and he was about to pay the price. 

“It was I, your majesty. Kang is one of our best and I swear upon you, my dear prince, he has had no ill intention-”

“Who do you think you are defending, Sir Kim?” said the prince angered. 

“It is in my best policy, never to offend you, dear prince. I am unbelievably sorry for the trouble in the garden, rest assured, I will see to it that Kang will not be allowed in ever again.” said Sir Kim. 

“And you make sure that he pays the price. Send two of your best to fix the offences you have done to our garden at once and do not spare a moment. Off!” the prince bellowed. 

“Brother.” a voice snapped.

The prince did not think to spare a glance at his sister. “I am in a terrible mood, sister. Leave me be.” he muttered lowly. 

“But brother, I must inform you. The gardener is not at fault, I watched them in the garden from my dressing room and it seems that Kang had been a victim against a lovely white bird. Nature was defending its place and mistook Kang as an intruder.” the princess spoke kindly.

“Well do you want me to punish the bird instead?”

“Well, of course not, I was hoping-”

“Get out of my chamber, y/n.”

“Taehyung, will you not listen?” y/n snapped. 

“No I shall not, and I shall never. Bring your case up to the gods if you want but that fiend is deserving of his punishment and the case rests there.” Taehyung spoke, finally looking at his sister. 

He finally saw her appearance for the first time that week. She was slowly turning into a woman, a beautiful woman. Her hair was a slightly different shade and her eyes were tired. The same way Taehyung watched her, she looked at him. Her brother was young, fit to take a place on the throne. But his eyes screamed for sleep or some form of rest. She could see the pain and restlessness in him for having many stressful and long nights all in a row. She pitied him. 

“Will you at least join me for the breakfast?” y/n pleaded.

He sent her a reluctant stare. “Inform Sir Park that the prince will be expecting breakfast in his study. I do not expect him to be a minute late.”

y/n watched her brother’s long, slim back covered in thick, rich clothes as he dragged them on his back and walked off. 

Breakfast was quick, y/n did not have much of an appetite after her conversation with her brother. She planned the activities for this day in her head while blankly staring at the vase in front of her. The thought of her brother being as lonely as she was pricked at her heart. The last they properly spoke was the night she had promised to protect him. Now so much time has passed that she did not know the kind of person her brother has grown to become. 

He was incredibly young, yet he held the entire kingdom in the palms of his hands. She knew the kind of worry, stress and frustration that comes with taking responsibility of the lives of many. It was with no hesitation, that she could proudly state that her brother is a great King. He showed compassion for those in need, children were so dear to his heart even if they weren’t his own. He had a temper so large, it was impossible to see him in such a way. Then y/n remembered that he was just a boy, and maybe he just wanted to live like one. Then she had remembered that he had wanted breakfast. 

“Will you fetch Sir Park for me please?” y/n asked a nearby maid. 

A few moments after he was bowing in front of her and listening attentively. She hated such power, maybe because she had too much of it. 

“My stubborn brother refuses to share a meal with me and he would like his breakfast sent to his study. He asked for you specifically, Sir Park.”

“Of course, princess. The prince shall receive a good meal right away.” he replied smiling slightly. 

“Feed him well, yeah Park? I worry too much of him.” y/n sighed. 

“Always, princess. And you are not to worry, this facade of his will fade soon enough.” Sir Park replied. 

“Will it?” y/n said sadly. “It has been eight years.” she sighed. 

“I have no ill intention in saying this princess, however, when one believes that their sibling is responsible for the death of the family, it is painful and difficult to forgive.” 

y/n did not know what to say then. She has spent years grieving, years trying to tell herself she meant well, years trying to make it up to her brother, and years hating herself for it. Unconsciously, she shed a tear. 

“My biggest apologies, princess. I did not mean to upset you-” 

“All is good, Sir Park.” she said quickly. “All is good.” she repeated with a small, reassuring smile. 

Sir Park Jimin was the knight that y/n was closest with. He was older and had been in training at the palace even before she was born. He had been there through her happiest and darkest times. When y/n fought to save her family, it was him that provided all of the support. He was loyal and trustworthy as a knight should be and never judged her for her choices. But Sir Park was special because both he and y/n knew that his loyalty was not forced, but it was earned by y/n. They were friends, companions, Sir Park had even taught y/n how to ride her first horse. It was these memorable moments that bonded them even more. 

Sir Park left to tend to the prince and y/n was alone again. She thought she would enter the garden, but it would irk her brother. The horses were resting and it was too hot out to go for a ride. The art room was empty and she thought it was a good place to hide out for this blazing afternoon. 

“Sir Kim?” y/n called as she peeked into his office. 

“Princess! Oh, you should have called and I would have come to you, even though you don’t particularly like it.” Sir Kim added humorously at the end. 

y/n smiled and laughed softly. “If you are aware of the reasons of my actions then you should not say otherwise. The matter is unimportant, I was wondering if the paint has been restocked.”

“Yes, fully, princess. I had the rose hue you requested delivered as well.” he said. 

“You have been helpful, Sir Kim. I will let your return to your activities.”

“My pleasure, dear princess. I hope all goes well with your artworks today.”

y/n smiled and thanked him before heading to the art room. Sir Kim Namjoon was another one of her friends. Not as close as Sir Park since he was much older and she had always thought of him as family. He was appointed as the king’s most trusted servant since he was incredibly intelligent and he dealt with the king so well. He had played a part in y/n’s education, lending her his collection of historical and geographical books as well as his collection of literature. He had always hoped that y/n would turn out to be smarter than he was, and as for Taehyung, he was not much of a bookworm. 

The art room smelled clean, fresh and it had a calming nature to it. As y/n closed the door, she heard a small gasp and someone shifting behind her. She turned around fiercely ready to defend herself when she came face to face with Sir Jeon. 

She let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “Foolish of me to think there would be danger in the art room. It is deemed the most peaceful place on castle grounds.” 

Sir Jeon cracked a smile, and chuckled heartily. “My apologies, princess. I was admiring the artwork. I shall take my leave-”

“Oh, please, do stay. It is comforting to know that someone sees the beauty in my works.” y/n said, longing for company. 

Sir Jeon was tall, handsome, amazingly built. As one of the most well-known knights in the kingdom he was not around an awful lot. He had business to deal with elsewhere. 

“Do you really mean that, princess?” he asked unsure. 

“Of course, you are not around so often, am I correct?”

“Yes, princess, however it feels as though I am intruding-”

“I demand you to stay, Sir Jeon.” y/n said firmly, yet with a lighthearted tone in her voice. 

He smiled rather attractively and nodded. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

y/n giggled and walked over to her box of paints while Sir Jeon stood in front of one of the paintings on the wall. 

“Princess, I have many queries about these paintings.” he said.

y/n looked surprised, “Queries? How long have you looked at them to have many queries?”

“You may not know this, princess, but I visit the art room on each and every one of my returns to the palace. It is my happy place.”

Hearing that, y/n’s heart swelled in her chest. 

“A room full of my artwork is your happy place?”

“You truly are talented, princess. And I have seen it for myself.”

y/n felt entirely grateful to him. The art room was not forbidden, yet she was the only one who entered it. Now, to know that Sir Jeon takes pride and sees beauty in her efforts, she felt a certain liking towards him. 

“And what are your queries, Sir Jeon?” she asked curiously. 

“Firstly, this piece seems to show all the colours of the rainbow-”

“And so you’ve noticed,” y/n said surprised. “You have a keen eye.”

“My query is why you added this streak of black. It occurs four times across the canvas.”

y/n’s feelings of amusement and gratitude slowly faded as she remembered the story of that art piece. 

“The rainbow represents myself, how I have different sides to me and each colour represents them. They are what makes me complete. The black streaks remind me of those I lack under my false belief that I am complete. Each streak represents those I have lost. Father, mother, and my younger sisters. You have a keen eye, Sir Jeon, but you failed to notice the grey.” 

Sir Jeon’s expression was filled with regret and pity. “The grey is the prince.” he mumbled. 

“Precisely.” y/n smiled sadly. 

“Art really allows us to showcase our emotions in the most beautiful way, princess. It also tells us that we are allowed to feel pain, allowed to make mistakes, and that we are allowed to move on.” Sir Jeon said as he took a step towards her. 

y/n nodded at him, “Very true indeed. Art is my escape.”

“So is mine.” Sir Jeon replied, smiling softly. 

They stood in a comfortable silence for a while, eyes gazing upon that painting. 

“A knight’s duty calls, princess.” he said as he turned to face her. 

y/n nodded, “I must have kept you long. I apologise.”

“Not at all, princess. I am happy to be here, I really am.” he said genuinely. 

Sir Jeon lifted y/n’s hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. y/n paid attention to the shape of his lips, how it sofltly pressed against her skin. It was like she was in a trance. 

“I hope to have my many other queries answered tomorrow, princess?” he said. 

y/n was slightly taken back, usually a knight would never demand something from her like that, not anyone. But she liked it, because it made her feel equal. 

“And I shall be happy to, Sir Jeon.” she said staring into his eyes. 

When he left, y/n knew just what she was going to paint today. 

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Rescue

(CW: slavery, brainwashing, dehumanization, kidnapping, creepy + intimate whumper, gaslighting)

Tag list: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook @whumps-the-word @frnkieroismydaddy @whumpity--whump--whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @jo-castle @newandfiguringitout

Masterlist

Soren pressed up against the back wall, legs pulled close to his chest, breath coming out ragged. 

“Please, please give me my collar back, I need it, please, please,” he was begging, an endless, panicked drone. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t stop. There was someone in front of him, a woman, but a different woman from the one who he’d woken up to, urging him to calm down, take deep breaths. But he couldn’t breathe, not without his collar on, he couldn’t breathe. 

The door squeaked open and boomed shut. Soren sobbed loudly, panicked begging only paused for the raw sounds, before it was back to an endless stream of “please give me my collar” over and over again.

“Dude, just calm down, you literally do not need it,” the rude man, the one who’d elbowed him, snapped, and Soren let out a high, warbling keen, turning his head away from the man, fingers raising to his neck again.

“Woah, buddy, still not doing that,” the woman said as she pulled his hands away from his own neck for what felt like the dozenth time. 

“Please!” Soren moaned, bloodied fingers twitching. He didn’t struggle against her hold on his wrists, his training didn’t even let him consider it, but he could beg, and cry, so he did.

“Here,” the driver said, creaking door booming shut behind him as he walked down the concrete steps. “Just let him have it, he’s not going to calm down unless we do.”

“Liam, come on!”

“You come on,” the driver, Liam, shot back, kneeling in front of Soren. Soren hiccupped, turning his head up, praying that this wasn’t some sick trick, that he was actually going to--

Soren sobbed again, this time with relief, and Liam fitted the collar on too loose, so it would move and rub and chafe, but that was okay because at least it was on. Soren’s hands closed around it and he immediately felt so, so much better.

“Maybe we should let Liam handle this.”

“He’s my--”

“Not anymore he isn’t! And Liam’s always been good--”

“--some of us leave? This bunker isn’t exactly large.”

“Quiet down; you’re gonna spook him again!”

The voices clamored over each other, volume rising, and Soren just hiccuped and focused on breathing deep. It was always loud and crowded in the facility, he just thought about breathing, calming down. He was--well, he wasn’t okay, but he could get himself under control.

“Soren?” Liam’s voice cut low and soft through the din, close to Soren, and Soren cracked open his eyes. Liam was broad, with soft fat layered over muscle, like he drove tractors or something (Ren had watched some Hallmark movie about a farm, Liam looked like the love interest). He was attractive, and his voice had a sweet tenor to it. 

“Please let me go home,” Soren begged quietly. Liam, out of all the thieves, seemed the most likely to listen to him. He’d given him back his collar. He was treating him gently (Soren was fragile!).

“Buddy, hey, we are, okay? We’re gonna take you home. But I’d like it if you let me explain some things to you first, please?”

Liam stood up off his haunches and sat on the lower bunk of the bunkbed. He patted the old, dusty blanket, indicating Soren should join him. The rest of the bunker had quieted. Soren, not wanting things to get any worse than they already were, did a quick risk analysis. The bed… only Ren… but if he disobeyed, he might get dragged to where they wanted him, so, he got up, and sat down on the hard, lumpy mattress as far away from the rest of them as he could, his back pressed up against the cold and rough concrete.

“Soren,” Liam started, his voice steady and patient in a way that Soren didn’t entirely trust, but he’d proven to be the most trustworthy out of all of them, so Soren maybe could take a little comfort in his tone, “I know you don’t remember us, or, anything, I guess, but we’re friends of yours. You’re in an underground bunker that belongs to Tyler’s uncle. Your name is Soren Greyson and you were kidnapped and forced into being a pet.”

Soren had been kidnapped, alright, but by these people. He knew, in his core, that no one had forced him to be a pet.

“My name is Liam. We met in middle school, we were close friends, even dated for a while. This is Lydia, we also met her in middle school, along with Tyler,” he gestured at the rude man, “and we were also friends with Ren, then.”

Soren couldn’t help but perk up at Ren’s name, his fingers clenching around the collar.

“In high school, we met Emmet, Ingrid, and Nia,” Liam said, gesturing as he said each name, “Then after we graduated, you met Erica in a hardware store and accidentally fell ass backwards into a relationship. You two were dating until very shortly before you were kidnapped.”

The woman he’d allegedly dated, Erica, was the one who’d been trying to get him to breathe while Liam had gotten his collar for him. She was--pretty, Soren guessed, but not as pretty as Ren, and the sight of her stirred no love in him, no memory.

Liam set his palm down on the blanket between him and Soren, looking at Soren with strange and earnest eyes. “We’re going to keep you safe. We’re going to help you regain your memories, somehow, and we’re gonna get your mom over here just as soon as we can get ahold of her.”

Soren grit his teeth, the threat of pain holding his tongue in check. But, well, if these people were such good friends of his, maybe they wouldn’t risk hurting him. “My memories are gone!” he snapped, knuckles white around his collar, “My Processors electrocuted that part of my brain until there wasn’t anything left! Whoever you think I am, he’s gone! And never coming back! Right now, I’m 930-456, a pet, and private property, and you’re all thieves!”

“Soren!” Lydia gasped, the whole room taken aback by his words.

“I don’t have a mom, anymore, I don’t have middle school friends or high school friends or some dumb hardwarestore romance.” The ever present knowledge he’d had, one of the only things that did survive the facility, came forth. “And I know for a fact that even if I did, none of them are looking for me. You’re lying!”

“Soren--” Liam tried, and Soren lifted his hands to his ears, eyes squinting shut. He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to hear any of this.

...Didn’t like how he couldn’t help but feel like they weren’t lying.

There was a hand on his knee. More specifically, just above his knee, the bottom end of his thigh, and it was just… sitting there. And it felt. Not wrong. He liked touch, but this was more than that, this was…

Soren opened his eyes and found Lydia sitting beside him, not looking at him (it was a strange relief, but a big one), her hand just on his knee, oddly and strikingly comforting. Like his body knew the gesture even though his brain had forgotten it. He could feel her callouses against his soft skin.

“Do you… play baseball?” Soren asked, quiet and timid, and felt the heavy weight of everyone’s attention focused on him. But he just looked at Lydia, who turned surprised eyes at him. 

“Yes. Yes! Soren, oh my god, yeah,” she said delightedly, her fingers squeezing into his skin, but not in a way that hurt. “See? See, you do remember things! It’s just, buried deep.” She removed her hand, and he found himself missing it, then took his hand between her own. “And we’ll help you, okay, we’ll help you remember.”

“...” Soren was trembling, tears budding up in his eyes again. “I…” He hiccupped, and Liam’s palm came to rest gently on Lydia’s wrist.

“Maybe we should let him rest, a little bit. This has all been… a lot.”

“Okay, but we’re cleaning the cuts,” Erica stated, and the group around her murmured their assent. Except Soren. But he knew it didn’t matter if he agreed or not. She took Liam’s place on the bed, starting with the cuts on Soren’s feet, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in one hand and a rough, scratchy cloth in the other. It grated against Soren’s skin, against the wounds, and he stared at her. 

Had he really been in love with her? It was hard to tell, just based off looks. What about her had made him love her? What about him had made him worth loving, before he’d been trained and fixed and made perfect, perfect for Ren? What would he even have done with her?

He looked across the room, at Liam. He was my first, said some feeling in his gut. First boyfriend, first sexual encounter, first time he felt love, first something, Soren wasn’t sure what, but he knew, with unfounded certainty, that Liam was his first. 

“I’m gonna clean your neck, okay? Could you hold your collar in your hands, please?” Erica asked, and Soren reached up to unfasten his own collar, which went against every ounce of training he’d ever had and every desire in his body, but he clenched it with his hands in his lap and tilted his chin up all the same, ignoring the sting and examining the other people.

Tyler made him nervous, but that could just be the head injury talking.

He stared at each one of the others, trying to summon something, anything, but they were perfect strangers to him. Emmet evoked some sort of admiration in him, but that wasn’t like a memory, really, that was just. Some dumb feeling.

At the end of the day, he knew Lydia played baseball and Liam was his first-something, and the rest of them meant nothing to him. He shifted uncomfortably as Erica continued applying the peroxide, and shifted again shortly after, an old spring digging into his ass. This bed was supremely uncomfortable, nothing like the bed back home, where he should be. 

He let his thoughts wander, as Erica moved to the other side of his neck. He thought of rushing past these strangers, with their words that made him feel uncertain and unsteady, of running away from this place. In his fantasy, a cop car was parked just outside the little wooded area, and Soren could fling himself at the man (in his mind, the cop was a man, built like Liam, but bigger, heartier, more intimidating) and beg. Tell him that he was stolen property, that he’d been taken in the middle of the night and the thieves were right behind him. He’d radio for backup, like in the movies, and then the strangers would rush out only to realize their mistake, and then they’d be surrounded, and taken away to jail, while Soren would be taken to the police department where his barcoded wrist could be scanned. Ren’s information would be pulled up, and someone would call them, and they’d come get him, and they’d hold him, and pet his hair, and croon over how frightening everything had been and how terrible, and then they’d take him home and he’d never, ever leave again.

Another fantasy, a bad fantasy, warred with it. Of Soren staying here, with these strangers, his life told to him in stories. He’d meet… his mom. Maybe, maybe he’d remember her. And he’d always have to wear long sleeves, but maybe he could go out, and relearn his skills. Move someplace far away and be a regular person, with a family, with friends that he got to talk to. Ren was wonderful to him, but when they weren’t around he did get… lonely…

That was bad, that was bad, all of those were bad thoughts, and he was bad for having them. He’d never had them before! He was good, he was good, he was obedient, in body and mind, in action and in thought, he behaved, he was good, why was his brain going all screwy and bad on him now? He couldn’t know these people, not actually!

Right?

But… they’d said they’d known Ren, that Soren’s melancholy-memory of them could be… real. That they’d known each other in middle school, and that was why Ren’s scent made him, from time to time… feel like he knew them before.

“There, all done,” Erica said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you…” Soren said uncertainly, placing his collar back on, tightening it properly, himself. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounded him. It helped keep his mind away from the bad thoughts. He was Ren’s. Nothing else mattered, before was irrelevant. All that mattered was getting home to them. He just had to find the right opportunity.

So he’d play along, until then.

“Can I, rest now?” Soren asked, and Erica smiled sadly at him.

“Yeah, belov--Soren. Yeah, Soren, go to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Soren would prefer to wake up in his bed, in his home, to the sound of Ren greeting him, but he didn’t say that. He laid down, still curled tightly in a ball, on the lumpy, musty mattress, and tears stung his eyes again. This was awful. No wonder he’d signed up to be a pet, at least his time at the facility had ended. He couldn’t imagine living like this forever, not after how Ren had treated him.

“I’m gonna head up,” Lydia was saying in hushed tones, “Soren’s mom should be awake now; I want to see if she got my text.”

“I’ll go with,” said one of the other women, and the two ascended the concrete stairs of the bunker. Soren listened to each footstep with three heartbeats in his chest for each. His mom? Coming here? The idea of him having a mom hadn’t impacted him the way the idea of actually seeing her was. He’d meet some woman and she would be his mother. The door, with its creaking metal, unlocked with a shrill screech, and swung open heavily. Soren’s brain immediately switched to wondering how many times he’d have to hear that noise, while he himself remained trapped down here. It made his miserable tears spill over, a soft, muffled sound choked in his throat.

The women shrieked.

Soren curled in on himself as the room exploded into noise, hands over his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. What new horror was happening now? A monster in the woods? A--

Police man. Grabbing Soren by the wrist and helping him up, bracing his other elbow when he stumbled, starstruck, praying this wasn’t a dream, or if it was, that all of it was. Police were in the bunker, cuffing and dragging out the thieves, and Soren didn’t understand it. He’d hoped--he’d wanted--but he didn’t actually think--how had they found him--so fast???

“S-Sir,” Soren stuttered out, grabbing his sleeve and leaning into him, eyes wide, “Sir, please, I-I’m a pet, please,” Soren lifted his wrist, showing his barcode, “Please, I need to go home, please, please!”

“I know, I know,” the cop said, sounding patiently exasperated. “Come on then, out of the bunker. Your owner’s waiting for you.”

Soren followed eagerly, wishing the cop would move faster, would run, Soren could keep up, he could, he wanted to, anything to get home sooner, to go back to Ren, please, please.

The police cars were flashing bright lights in the fragile light of the dawn, and a news casting van was pulling into the wooded area, too. Soren huddled in close to the man who had a hand on his wrist. He wasn’t like how Soren had fantasized, but that was fine, he was real, and he was going to get Soren home, and he was touching his wrist in a way that was only reassuring, not confusing and maybe-painful like the thieves’. 

Then he saw Ren, glaring like they could murder the strangers, their teeth bared as they stared down the criminals being corralled into the cop cars.

“Ren!” Soren cried, breaking the officer’s surprised grip on his wrist, running to them faster than he knew he could run. Ren’s gaze turned to him, surprised, their hair hanging loosely around their jaw like Soren only rarely saw it, still wearing the sweater they wore to bed.

“Soren!” Ren uncrossed their arms and began walking towards him, only to “oof” quietly when Soren did not slow down, flinging himself into them. “Oh, angel, there now, there, this has been so frightening for you hasn’t it?”

The rude one--Tyler--began struggling harder against the cops forcing him into the car. “Let go of him you fucking freak!” he shouted. “Ren! Ren you hear me!? Fucking don’t touch him you sick bastard!”

Ren tutted, a sound Soren associated with mild disappointment. It was only ever directed at him, and he flinched in their arms. “Pet, did you tell them my name?”

Soren’s head spun a little. “I, I, I was, screaming it, when they, when they kidnapped me, I called for you…”

“Oh,” Ren crooned, their palm caressing his cheek. He leaned into it with a deep ache. “Darling, this has been such a terrifying experience for you. But it’s alright now. You’re back where you belong.”

Soren nodded, turning so he could kiss the heel of their palm. “Exalted?”

“Yes, pet?”

“They, they said… that, they knew me. Before. That they knew you, a-and that’s why they know your name.”

“Is that what they told you?” Ren said derisively, snorting a little. Soren blinked, and then melted. Of course. Of course.

“They were lying,” Soren breathed out, relieved.

“My angel,” Ren murmured, petting at his hair, “Obviously they lied to you. You’re mind is vulnerable, and those nasty thieves took advantage of that the first moment they could.” Ren kissed his forehead, and after Soren pressed his face into their shoulder, blacking out the lights and the dawn and the movement all around him. “They made you confused, told you strange stories while you were disoriented and primed to be taken advantage of. But it’s alright, Soren, I’m here now, I’ll keep your little head on right.” Their fingers carded through his hair, tugging at bloody tangles before the strands slipped through their fingers entirely. “You just listen to me, and no one else. You don’t need to listen to any voice but mine.”

“Thank you, Exalted, thank you,” Soren murmured. And with his face pressed to Ren’s chest, the smell of their sweater in his nose, he felt again that strange melancholy. “E-Exalted?”

“Yes, baby?”

“They, I--a-after they told me, about, um, th-the lies, I got… weird. Um, memories?”

Ren clicked their tongue. “Didn’t those fools at the training facility warn you that you’d get false memories from time to time?”

Oh! “O-oh, yes, they, they did. I, I forgot, s-since, I n-never got them, before.”

Ren chuckled beneath his face, and he looked up at them, then closed his eyes while Ren pet the side of his face, the half that hadn’t been elbowed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re such a perfect pet, Soren.” The hand on his face suddenly gripped him by the ear, making him flinch and whine. “You didn’t go with them willingly, did you? Even when they lied to you?”

“No!” Soren cried, gripping their sweater desperately, tears stinging his eyes anew. “No Exalted, no, never, never, I never would have run, please, no, never, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t!”

Just as quickly, Ren returned to petting him. “That’s right. You’re my good little Soren, you’d never leave me,” Ren murmured, almost as though to themself.

Soren nodded. “C-can I, ask for reassurance, on, on one more thing, that confuses me?”

“Ask as many questions as you like, angel, I’m right here to tell you everything you need to know,” Ren crooned, placid as still waters.

“I, I get, f-f-fake memories, of, um, you, too. Sometimes, it, it feels like I did know you, b--”

“Excuse me! Excuse me, ma’am!” a newslady called, jogging over to Ren and Soren, microphone in her hand.

“Not a ma’am,” Ren said idly, arms slipping easily around Soren’s back as they turned to face her, pulling him in close to their chest. He pressed up against them, eyeing this new threat.

Next

[imaginethathaikyuu]

as a fellow akaashi whore, may i request s/o being the manager nd dating him in secret or something?? idk just fluff i just love him

sooo…. when you requested this you probably expected a short little scenario, but… uh… take a look at that word count yikeslook, idk what happened but this scenario has taken over my life for a week now. and here are the results. (oh, and, spoiler alert: his s/o isn’t the team’s manager… uh… oops? also, akaashi whores UNITE) 

most importantly: round of applause for my beta reader, editor in chief, very good friend who has way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit and dumb ideas, @heichou-in-my-head, better known as pip. i don’t know how you do it, but holy shit is this honeybun grateful for you pippy. sorry my trouble with tenses gave you a hard time with this one, but what else do you expect from me? (seriously, thank you for all you do for me! ^_^) 

without further ado….. word count: 7883fem reader

-

“This is Akaashi.”

Back when your parents told you they’d be hiring a new gardener, you’d expected someone just as old as your last one. It appeared they’d managed to find a college student who was the same age as you instead.

“You can call me Keiji, if you want to.”

And it was weird - your parents quickly accepted the boy into your family. You recall feeling as though they expected the two of you to develop a relationship resembling something like siblings.

But after two months of him working for your family, you’d done nothing but embarrass yourself in front of him.

Even the other morning, you’d walked into the kitchen wearing what you’d slept in - a t-shirt and your underwear - toothbrush in mouth, bedhead out in full force, just about to grab a bottle of water from the fridge when you noticed: the boy was standing at the sink washing his hands, eyeing you with vague amusement. You remember gratefully noting that he didn’t glance down to your lower half.

How polite.

The snicker he gave you wasn’t very polite, though.

“Good morning,” he said, “sleeping beauty.”

You pulled your toothbrush from your mouth with a scoff.

“It’s not that late,” you mumbled, grabbing the bottle and beating a hasty retreat to your room.

—

Akaashi ended up doing more than just gardening work; observing his competence and willingness to do just about any task they could come up with, your parents immediately decided the entire house needed some work done. And there was no job Akaashi couldn’t do! He built shelves, painted walls, repaired fences - you’d even seen him under the hood of your dad’s car. He added these uncomplainingly to his main tasks of mowing the lawn, tending to the flower beds and bushes, weeding and re-potting, and occasionally working on the garden furniture. It was a wonder he had any time for school.

You stare at him now; he’d just knocked on your door, pulling you out of a deep Youtube video hole, and greeted you with, “I’m supposed to take down your curtains.”

“…what?” You glance back at your window confusedly.

“Your curtains - I’m supposed to take them down. And put these new ones up.”

“Oh.” You’d assumed your dad would change your curtains, but at this point it’s a given he’d get Akaashi to do it. “Uh… sure, okay.”

You settle back into your bed while he brings a step stool and a few tools in. The silence as he works is awkward, even tense, and it doesn’t seem like Akaashi’s going to break it - you decide you’ll have to do it.

“So, do you only own dark blue t-shirts?”

“Do you own pants?”

Damn. You’d hoped all those times you’d walked around in just your underwear had gone unnoticed by him.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you shoot back, trying to mask your embarrassment. “You know, I used to be able to roam freely before my parents adopted you.”

He snorts. “Adopted?”

You sit up to get a better look at him. “What, you don’t feel like they’ve adopted you?”

“Considering I go home at the end of the day, no.”

“That’s the next step, Keiji - we have a spare room!”

He chuckles, instantly lightening the tense atmosphere. You realise this is the first time you’ve seen him smile genuinely and not just out of politeness - the old curtains are now down and the golden sunlight shines on his face, enhancing his features softly. For some reason you can’t take your eyes off him.

“I don’t think my own parents would appreciate me getting a new family.”

“I guess that’s true,” you laugh. “What do you have left to do today?”

His tongue sticks out just a bit as he focuses on twisting a screw into the wall. “Mow the lawn.”

“Perfect excuse to make lemonade then, don’t you think?”

Akaashi takes a step back to judge his work. The curtains are up, they’re even, and they look nice.

“Cliche,” he says, looking over to you. “But I agree.”

—

The summer sun is hot. Much hotter than you remember it being last year. And the best place to get away from that heat? Your air conditioned bedroom, obviously.

Your mom isn’t inclined to agree, though.

“Why don’t you get out of bed?”

“Mom…”

“Y/N, you’ve had two weeks of summer break and you’ve spent the whole time cooped up in this room. Your father is worried sick!”

You groan again. “I’m relaxing!”

“Well, you need to get some sun,” your mother continues. “Akaashi is outside painting the fence. I told him you’d be joining him. Get going!”

She leaves your bedroom with a huff, and you force yourself to roll out of bed. You put on appropriate clothes for painting and head to the backyard.

Akaashi’s wearing his trademarked blue t-shirt, paint supplies on a tarp next to him.

“Nice to see you out of that cave,” he says without looking at you.

You roll your eyes in response, crossing your arms and waiting for him to give you instructions.

“You actually want to help?”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, turning around to see your mother watching you from inside the house. You wave at her dramatically, and she waves back before walking away from the window.

He kneels down to prepare the paint. “I’ve already cleaned it and applied a primer,” he tells you. “So we can start painting now.”

You’re not sure what primer is for, but the quicker you finish painting, the quicker you can get out of this heat - you’re not going to bother asking.

He hands you a large brush and a tin can of white paint, and then walks away.

“Is that it?”

He laughs. “It isn’t rocket science! Just start painting!”

As it turns out, Akaashi had way too much faith in you. You’ve only finished painting about a third of the fence when he stands next to you, having already finished the other two thirds.

“Someone likes to take their time,” he says, painting the last panel.

“You’re just too fast!”

“You didn’t have to be so meticulous.” He takes the paint brush and can from you. “But thanks for the help.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before we started?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“Hey, it looks good!”

Both of you turn around to find your mother judging the paint job.

“How did she do, Keiji? Be honest!”

The boy looks over at you with a smile. “She didn’t do half bad. It was nice having company.”

“She’ll have to help out more often.”

After that, your parents jump at any chance to have you help Akaashi with his work. Without giving you payment, of course.

“You could learn a lot from the boy,” your dad says later on. “You need to learn how to do some hard work.”

“I think we managed to hire a trustworthy boy,” your mother chimes in.

“He can teach you about taking care of yourself. At least until you find a man like him to do it all. Someone with deeper pockets, hopefully.”

For some reason you’re really not a fan of the tone of voice your father uses, but at the same time you don’t really know what he means by it. Rather than being offended for Akaashi’s sake, you continue the conversation.

“Can’t I just hire someone like you guys?”

After a moment of thought, your mom speaks up. “Of course that’s an option! Maybe Keiji will even be around to work for you.”

You nod, not really knowing how to reply. You couldn’t genuinely see Akaashi working for you - but maybe working the whole summer with him wouldn’t be so bad, if it meant getting to know him better.

—

A knock on the front door pulls you out of the movie you were watching. When you answer, you find a familiar face.

“Is your dad home?”

You shake your head. “No, he’s having a late night at work. Won’t be back until early in the morning.”

“What about your mom?”

“On a trip,” you reply, bringing Akaashi inside.

“Well, do you have any idea why your dad called me here, then?”

“Oh, probably for me, sorry.”

His brows furrow, and the smile you sent him only confuses him more.

“My bathtub’s drain was clogged, but I told him I’d figure it out myself. I guess he didn’t trust my plumbing skills.”

“Did you fix it?”

“I…tried!”

He sighs. “Which bathroom?”

“The one in my room…”

You have no idea how he plans to fix the clog with no tools, but you don’t stop him as he makes his way to the bathroom. You sit at the kitchen table and wait for him to come back.

It takes much less time than you expected, and he’s drying his hands with a towel when he walks into the kitchen.

“Did you fix it?!”

He nods, wiping his brow. “Maybe I should’ve used that as a teachable moment for you.”

“No thanks. I never want to look at a drain again - I tried looking up instructions, but nothing would work. I tried for at least thirty minutes!”

“It isn’t that hard,” he replies under his breath. He sits across the table from you. “What are you doing home anyway? Don’t you have friends to keep you company? You know, instead of your gardener.”

“Are you implying I told my dad to invite you here on purpose?”

“A clogged drain isn’t that dire, but your dad definitely made it out to be.”

“Whatever,” you scoff. “I was going to make dinner, and since you’re here, you can help.”

“I’m a gardener, not a chef.”

You stand and begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge. “That’s what recipes are for - I won’t let you mess anything up, don’t worry.”

“Fine - don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Thirty minutes later the entire kitchen was filled with smoke.

“How did you burn rice?!”

“I don’t know - all I did was pour it into the pot!”

“With or without water?”

“…shit.”

—

Akaashi was hopeful that when fall came around, it’d mean less work. He was very mistaken. You’d even told him, “knowing my dad, he’ll find something for you to do.”

And the man did. For a month, Akaashi had to rake leaves once a week - which included cleaning the gutters - and when he wasn’t doing that, he was cleaning old tools that had been in your garage for years.

The first day he does the raking you watch him through the living room window in agony, waiting for him to get a big pile collected.

And as soon as he turns his back…

Your giggles were the only warning he had before he saw leaves go flying.

“My dad told me to help, so I thought I’d give you more work!”

“Y/N,” he says with a groan, but your laughter forces him to laugh with you. “That took half an hour!”

“I’ll rake them again! Help me up.”

He grabs your hand - only to be pulled down into the remaining leaf pile beside you, making you laugh even harder when he groans.

“Isn’t it fun?”

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” he says. But you notice that as he stands up and pulls you with him, he doesn’t deny it. “Once I jumped in a pile of leaves my dad was raking, and he was so pissed,” he admits with a laugh, looking happy at the memory.

“Did you have to rake them up after that, like I have to?”

He answers by handing you a rake. “I had to rake them for the rest of the season. For everyone in our neighborhood.”

“God, that must’ve sucked.”

“It paid well,” he replies. “I was able to buy my parents Christmas gifts that year because of it.”

“That’s sweet, Keiji.”

“Enough ass kissing, get to work.”

He walks away while you scoff, leaving you alone to rake up the mess you made - but you both have smiles on your faces.

—

As winter approached, Akaashi was spending even more of his time with you when he was meant to be working. You’d call him into your room for his opinion on an outfit or make him stay an hour longer so he could have lunch with you; you even often texted each other. Your friendship flourished, and the two of you felt more than comfortable around each other now - a stark comparison to nearly six months ago.

He was at your home every Monday and some Thursdays ready to work, without fail. They quickly became your favorite days of the week.

This Monday the wind was roaring outside as you curled up on the couch, fireplace ablaze to keep you warm. You were sure Akaashi wouldn’t come today - the last time you looked outside everything was covered in snow, even parts of the road - so when the doorbell rings it makes you jump a little.

You open the door, knowing Akaashi would be on the other side. “You’re late!” you say before hurrying back to your spot on the couch.

He pulls his beanie off, letting his messy hair free. “I know - the snow was getting bad. Had to shovel my driveway.”

“Tardiness is unacceptable, Akaashi.”

He scoffs at you. “Tardiness is next to godliness -”

“That’s timeliness.”

Your dad walks into the room from the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. “Akaashi, what’re you doing here?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to work on something in the attic today, or… something?”

He takes off his scarf as he speaks, and you stare at his rosy cheeks. His skin must’ve been flushed from the cold - you think he looks absolutely precious.

He catches you staring at him, but you didn’t look away. Before you probably would’ve been embarrassed to be caught eyeing the boy, but now you were looking forward to him teasing you for it.

“Well, yeah, but have you seen the weather? I didn’t think you’d bother showing up.”

Of course he’d seen the weather - but he also hadn’t seen you in a week. And for some reason, he missed you - so he made a point to get to work today.

“I appreciate the work. Especially since the holidays are coming up.”

“Alright…” your dad says with an understanding sigh. “Come on, then.”

You assume your dad leads him to the attic. Before walking away, Akaashi pulls his hoodie off, giving you a good view of his toned stomach when his shirt raises up. And instead of hanging it on the coat rack, he throws it at you with a smirk.

“Hey!”

“It’s to keep you warm!” he laughs before quickly catching up with his boss.

You don’t see him again until you’re having dinner. Your mother invites him to stay and eat, and when he sits across from you, you make sure to give his leg a playful kick.

“Shouldn’t you write Keiji up for being late today, bossman?”

“I had an excuse,” the boy argues.

“But you were a good four hours late.”

Keiji finally kicks your leg back, rolling his eyes.

“At least I showed up at all,” he replies. He looks down at his watch and half-gasps at the time. “I should get home, though - thank you for the meal.”

He stands up and your mother follows him. “Are you sure the roads are safe?” Nobody responds as she walks over to a window, seeing nothing but thick snow falling from the evening sky. “The road’s completely covered! I don’t want you driving in this weather. You should stay here for the night.”

“Keiji, we get to have a sleepover,” you tease.

“I couldn’t impose -”

“I insist,” your mom says. “You can sleep in the living room. Help him feel at home, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You would’ve given a sassier reply just to tease Akaashi even more, but you were busy wondering about his worried expression.

“Maybe the snow will lighten up soon,” he says.

“I doubt it,” your father says to him. The man stands and puts a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Just stay here until the morning, don’t bother risking the drive. Y/N, don’t pester him too much.”

“I’ll try.”

After wishing you goodnight, your parents head off to their bedroom for bed.

“Do you want me to get the futon out for you?”

“If you don’t mind,” Akaashi says as he pulls out his cell phone. With a sigh, he continues. “My brother is going to be pissed.”

“You have a brother?” you ask, making your way to the closet where the futon and blankets are stored.

“Yeah, he’s 7.”

You had known Akaashi for what felt like a long time, and you thought you knew him well. But even after all this time, and after learning so much about him, you knew almost nothing about his home life.

Wanting to know more, you ask, “what’s his name?”

You turn your head to find him with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Hey, can you put Koichi on? Yeah, thanks.”

You turn back and focus on setting up his futon in the middle of the living room, but you can’t help overhearing his phone call since he’s only standing in the doorway.

“Hey, kid. I know I was supposed to be home before it got dark, but… no, playing in the snow is going to have to wait until tomorrow… I know I promised, but I have to stay here - no, the roads aren’t safe to drive…”

You find yourself feeling very curious about what Akaashi’s brother is like, what their relationship is like; you just want to sit and talk to him about his life and family, learning everything about him. But you’re sure he’d feel uncomfortable with that. It’d probably feel more like an interrogation to him.

It does seem unfair though. He knew virtually everything about you and your family. Would you have to become his handyman in order to learn more about him?

“Hey, you didn’t have to do all that for me.”

You look up and see he’s now back in the living room with you, phone call completed. You were already done setting up his futon as well as spreading out the bedspread.

“It’s fine!” you say. “I’ll get you an extra blanket, too.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem, Keiji.”

You get the blanket for him and decide to turn in early, heading back up to your room with a cheerful ‘good night’.

When you wake up, the first thing you think is how cold you are. It’s unbearable; you curl your limbs into your body, pull your blanket up to your chin, but it’s no use. It feels like the blanket is only making you colder.

You open your eyes to check the time; you expect to see the sun shining through your window, but it’s still dark out. You click your phone on and are surprised to find that it’s only 1 am - and also that your phone isn’t charging, even though it’s plugged in.

You switch your bedside lamp on: nothing.

“Huh.”

The snow must have knocked the power out. That would explain your room’s temperature.

There’s no way you can fall asleep in your cold bedroom, so using your phone as a flashlight, you make your way to the living room, with thoughts of the fireplace and a certain boy and the warmth both of them can offer.

You’re excited to see Akaashi already has a fire burning in the fireplace, and he’s sat up in the futon, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head.

“Keiji,” you whisper before sitting next to him. “I need warmth!”

“You’re in the right place, then.”

You sit down next to him in front of the fireplace, sitting much closer to him than you first intended.

“You’re shivering,” he says with a laugh, pushing his hood down. “Are you really that cold?”

You nod, pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them close.

“Here,” Akaashi says, pulling his hoodie off and handing it to you. “It’s warm.”

“Won’t you be cold?” you ask, pulling the sweatshirt on. You immediately feel warmer, and the scent of Akaashi’s cologne quickly takes over your senses.

He shakes his head. “Not if I’m under a blanket,” he says as he scoots up, getting under the two large blankets. “Do you want to lay down with me?”

Instead of answering, you just crawl over to him. He holds the blanket up for you, inviting you under, and you gratefully accept.

“Do you feel better?” Akaashi asks after you get comfortable.

“I’m so warm,” you say, almost in disbelief. You open your eyes and give him a wide, content smile. “Are you warm?”

He nods. You’re sharing a pillow; his face is quite close to yours. But not uncomfortably close. You like laying next to him like this.

“…are you still worried about your brother?”

“A little,” he says with an awkward laugh. “He wanted to play in the snow together.”

“He’ll be okay, I’m sure,” you say before yawning. “I didn’t know you even had a brother. Does he look like you?”

Akaashi smiles. “Basically identical.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

Your eyes are closed now, and you can feel yourself falling asleep, but you try to hold it back.

“I’d like that,” Akaashi replies, and his voice is much quieter than it was before.

He closes his eyes too, but he’s nowhere near falling asleep. He isn’t even tired. How could he manage to fall asleep while you’re laying right next to him?

So he opens his eyes again, and lets himself look at you. The fire lights up the room with an orange glow, gently cascading on your face. And he’s gone; his heart is beating fast, he’s smiling for no reason, his entire body feels warm - and he’s sure it isn’t because of the fire.

He wants you to wake up. He wants you to look at him like he’s looking at you. He wants to keep talking to you, to tell you everything about himself.

But at the same time, he loves how peaceful you look. He never thought he’d get the chance to see you sleeping - and he kind of feels like a creep for watching you, but he figures that just this once, it’s okay. After all, you did crawl into bed beside him.

You snuggle into the pillow and your hair falls into your face, and Akaashi takes a chance and brushes it away. His touch is soft, he’s sure, but when he pulls his hand away your eyes slowly open.

“Are you cold?”

He shakes his head, but you scoot closer to him anyway.

“I can keep you warm,” you say softly, wrapping your arm around his waist and pressing your face against the top of his chest. “I haven’t cuddled in so long…”

“Me neither,” he replies. He’s trying to relax, because he’s sure you can feel how tense he is.

“Then we should cuddle more often.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He swears he’s going to pass out, because he’s holding his breath and his heart is beating so fast and his mind is racing.

He’s not sure if this is appropriate - in fact, he knows it isn’t. He feels dizzy just thinking about what your father - his boss - would say if he knew the two of you were here in each other’s arms.

But maybe that doesn’t matter for now, and maybe he could get away with doing this just once.

So he relaxes and he breathes and he closes his eyes, but he doesn’t fall asleep for a while - he has to keep an eye on the fireplace, anyway. He lays there with your body pressed against his, your arms wrapped around him, for what’s probably hours. And he’s never felt more comfortable.

—

Even though it wasn’t his intention, cuddling together turns out to be more than a one-time thing.

For the rest of the winter you made a habit of inviting him to your room, always to keep you warm. And he never really had any complaints until the day you expressed that you want to do more with him.

It was overwhelming. So much so that after you had that conversation with him, he had to avoid you. It was hard to avoid someone who lived in the house he worked in, though, so his attempts were unsuccessful.

One day he’s in the kitchen washing his hands when you come into the room and pull him out into the hall.

“What’s up?” he asks as you lead him around the corner, holding his hand behind you. “I’m not done working -”

You stop and turn to him, leaning against the wall behind you. You pull him closer and take a deep breath, remembering the conversation the two of you had a few days ago, when you expressed your feelings and told him how badly you wanted to be closer to him - and when he told you he feels the same way.

“You already know.”

He tries his best to hold back his reaction. He knows what you mean. But still, he shakes his head.

“I want you to… kiss me.”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you now, and you squeeze his hand. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“What?”

“Don’t you want to?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Keiji…”

For the first time that evening, he looks at you in the eye. “Don’t… say my name like that.”

“Why not?”

Blue eyes bore into yours. You know he’s trying hard to keep that exasperated look on his face. You’re trying hard to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Had he lied when he said he wanted you too?

“Keiji… you said you want to.”

His eyes close, his hand squeezes yours tight.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “If your parents found out -”

“No one has to know.”

“They’ll know,” he replies.

“One kiss,” you say, looking at his lips. The curiosity was eating away at you now. “It’s harmless.”

Akaashi knows that isn’t true. And if you genuinely believe that then his feelings are already hurt. Because this isn’t harmless - especially if it really is just one kiss.

You’d spent the last few months being forbidden fucking fruit - one taste wouldn’t be enough for him. He knows that. You should too.

So he shakes his head again, letting out a breath that sounds like a groan, and he keeps his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to look at your tantalizing lips again.

“I… I can’t.”

Being rejected isn’t something you expected to happen. So you look down to your feet. You drop Akaashi’s hand. After getting used to your touch, he misses the feeling already.

“Okay…” you reply. It’s hard to speak to him now, knowing that he didn’t mean what he said before, and you’re embarrassed.

You know your next words will sound pathetic, but you can’t hold them back. “If you… change your mind, you know where to find me, I guess.”

And then you walk away, knowing both of you would regret your actions that day.

—

After that, the two of you were back to square one. You remember feeling as if the last few months hadn’t even happened - you stopped talking, you stopped cuddling, you even stopped looking at each other.

It was hard for both of you. Akaashi was convinced that after he rejected you, you started purposefully walking around the house scantily clad even more than before. It’d been two weeks since then, and it was driving him fucking crazy.

He could deal with it, though.

That day, however - that day was the last straw.

He’d walked into your house - at this point, your parents had told him to just let himself in. And the sight he walked in on was something he’d never get out of his head.

You were on the couch…and you weren’t alone. You were lying with someone else on top of you, your lips attached to his. To make it worse, it was a guy Akaashi was sure he recognized from his high school volleyball days.

It was like walking in on a car crash. His heart sank into his stomach, it felt like he was going to throw up, he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to pull his hair out, he wanted to yell, to cry. But all he could think to do was run out. He forgot about the job he was meant to be doing today.

And then he sat alone in his car for awhile.

He hoped you got what you wanted - because he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to walk into that house again.

—

“Long time no see,” you mumble when you walk into the kitchen. You see him stiffen at the sound of your voice.

Akaashi had taken a two week “vacation”, according to your dad, but you knew the real reason he’d stayed away.

“Wonder why,” he replies, his sarcastic tone matching yours. He definitely wasn’t happy to be speaking to you.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wonder.”

Akaashi can’t take it anymore. Not only is your tone absolutely unbearable, but the way you’d been treating him - even before he caught you with another guy - was nothing but disrespectful.

“Do you get off on hurting my feelings or something?”

“What -”

“You know what you’re doing. Don’t act innocent.”

He turns to look at you, clearly feeling confident. You don’t feel the same.

“I didn’t mean for you to walk in…”

“We both know that’s bullshit -”

“No it isn’t.”

After a beat of silence, Akaashi asks a question that he’s been dying to ask for two weeks now. “What, is he your boyfriend or something?”

“No.”

The truth is you did hate yourself for being caught like that, if only because you were sorry it hurt Akaashi to see it.

“You don’t want to kiss me. But he did. So I kissed him.”

That had been a bad choice - you knew it the moment you invited the boy over. It wasn’t helpful to anyone, particularly the guy whom you had no feelings for.

“And I don’t understand why you’re so upset when you never wanted me in the first place -”

“I wanted to kiss you!”

“Then why didn’t you?!” You know you shouldn’t raise your voice, but Akaashi doesn’t seem fazed by it.

“Because I could lose my job! And I wouldn’t be able to stop myself - it wouldn’t just be one kiss, but you don’t - you don’t understand that!”

You take a while to reply. Akaashi takes that chance to look away from you, to run a hand through his hair, to realize what the fuck he just said.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

“Don’t say that.”

“I still want to kiss you, Keiji!” you say loudly, glad your parents are at work. “Even after you rejected me - and you can do it again! I don’t care!”

Then kiss me - he’s so close to saying it. But he can’t open his mouth.

“I’m going to my room. Go do your work -”

“Wait -”

You stop in your tracks and wait for him to continue.

“If I lose my job for this -”

“You won’t.”

He walks closer to you, ignoring what you said. “If I lose my job for this, you’re buying my brother’s birthday presents.”

“You aren’t going to get fired, unless you’re a bad kisser and I make my dad fire you so I never have to see you again.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?”

You don’t bother replying, because Akaashi puts his hands on each side of your face. He pulls you close, but he goes slow, as if he’s working up the courage to do it.

“Is this your first kiss?”

“Shut up.”

And then he kisses you - it’s sweet and soft and gentle, and while you expected all of those things, fireworks don’t fly like you thought they would. You don’t feel sparks of electricity across your whole body. Maybe it’s because it’s not rushed, or because it isn’t spontaneous.

But the way his hands are holding your face feel perfect. His thumb grazes your skin carefully, and his hands are gentle despite being rough and worn from countless hours of hard work.

It doesn’t last very long; he pulls away before you can even move your lips much. And when you open your eyes, his are still closed - and he’s smiling so wide.

You know kissing is supposed to lead to more, in fact you assumed you’d be taking each other’s clothes off by now, but all you really want to do is cuddle with him for a while.

“When will you be done working?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because I want to take a nap.”

“We can take a nap,” he laughs.

“And I want to kiss you more.”

He nods. “I’ll kiss you more. As much as you want.”

—

You think back on the period that followed with great affection, the blessed honeymoon phase. As spring approached and the weather started to get warmer, your relationship with Akaashi blossomed along with the wild daffodils in your backyard. Even though he was nervous about your parents finding out, requesting that you keep your relationship status a secret so he wouldn’t risk losing his job, you both felt very happy with how things were going. You were comfortable with him, and he absolutely adored you.

When you informed him of your love of spring flowers he demanded you help plant some in the flowerbeds. He told you he’d plant whatever you wanted, even taking you to a flower shop so you could pick them out.

You decided on red marigolds. Akaashi planted the seeds with tender care, and you made sure to water them on the days he wasn’t working.

The two of you bonded over waiting for the flowers to bloom - you were impatient, and Akaashi was worried they wouldn’t grow.

But they did - the two of you were over the moon when they sprouted, you remember fondly, sitting on the edge of the porch with him, both looking at the flowerbed.

“I’m so excited for them to bloom,” you say.

“Me too.”

You turn your head and look at Akaashi. He gives you a small smile, and you feel your heart speed up just looking at him. He’s so cute that it hurts, but you can’t even look away from him.

But you have to; you look around, making sure no one just so happens to be looking, and then you quickly steal a kiss from him.

“What was that for?” he asks.

You shrug. “You just look cute, that’s all.”

Akaashi looks around in the same way you had, before kissing you again quickly.

“Right back at you,” he replies, before letting his hand rest on yours.

You lean your head against his shoulder and smile wide as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You flip your hand over so you could lock your fingers together.

Akaashi feels something he’d never felt before, not with anyone else or even with you, until right now. He’s so comforted by you; this moment is cozy and relaxed and tranquil and every other word like that he can think of. He wants to be with you, right there, for as long as he can.

He squeezes your hand. He wants more of this - more of you.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, and you pull back to look up at him.

He smiles again before ducking down to kiss you one more time. This one lasts longer, he kisses you hard and makes the most out of the short time before he has to pull away.

He doesn’t want to pull away at all, but he’s glad he did - because the door behind you opens right then.

“Keiji, I’m glad I caught you before you left -”

Your mom is none the wiser, or at least it seems so. Akaashi pulls away from you quickly, praying she didn’t see anything.

“We’re having a little neighborhood get-together tomorrow here at noon, and I thought it’d be fun for you to come!”

He nods, looking back at her. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Great! Oh and Y/N, the neighbor’s son is home for spring break and we’ve invited him too. You’ll have to wear something nice.”

You nod in response and Akaashi stands. “Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I better get going.”

With that he walks to his car, and you stand to face your mom.

“What were you two doing?” she asks.

You shrug. “Just talking.”

“He’s a nice boy,” she says with a knowing smile. “But, you know, the Kindaichi’s son has been away at university at Cornell. You know, your father’s old alma mater. And he’s on the road to joining your father’s company.”

“That’s nice,” you hum, trying your best to avoid the conversation altogether.

“I’m just saying, that’s the kind of man your father and I want for you. So we think you should give Yutaro a chance, okay?”

You simply nod along as she speaks, trying not to blow your cover and expose your and Akaashi’s relationship. This appears to be good enough for her as she retreats back inside soon after, leaving you to ponder.

You aren’t thinking about your future or what kind of man you want for yourself right now. At this point, the only thing you know is that you want to date Akaashi - even if your parents don’t approve. Their opinion of Akaashi isn’t really clear to you, but what you do know is that in some way, they judge his home life.

He doesn’t share much of it with you, but you know his life isn’t easy. He doesn’t have much, and everything he does have is the product of hard work. He definitely isn’t away at a prestigious school and there would be no well-paying suit-and-tie job waiting for him in a few years, either, no handy contacts to help slide him into a junior partner position at a family friend’s company.

But do those facts make him less desirable than someone with more money in their pockets?

You know your parents have good intentions, they mean well, they only ever wanted the best for you. But to you, the best has never meant smart or rich - the best always meant down to earth, caring, personable, supportive and encouraging. Akaashi is all of that plus more.

Even so, you know you have to put on a show for your parents’ sake - or rather, for Akaashi’s sake.

And the next day, that’s exactly what you do.

You aren’t able to talk to Akaashi much at the party because your parents are too busy basically trying to sell you to the Kindaichi’s, but after about an hour or so you’re able to get away from them. You grab Akaashi and make a break for it, trying your best not to get spotted.

You bring Akaashi around to the front porch and sit in the same places you sat the day before.

“This is the worst,” you say, covering your face with both hands.

“At least you look nice.”

You sigh. “Mom forced me to wear this dress. Apparently red is Cornell’s school color or something.”

“He really goes to Cornell?”

“Yeah. And it definitely shows in his bland as fuck personality.”

Akaashi nods. “Are you considering…”

“What do you mean?” You look over at him. “Not in a million years. I don’t care how much money he has.”

“Your parents seem to like him, though.”

“Well, we both know who I like. And he doesn’t go to Cornell. And I’m going to tell them that.”

“You’re what?”

“Y/N - there you are, I’ve been looking all over. Aren’t you going to tell Yutaro goodbye?”

You turn and look at your dad. “Do I have to?”

“You need to make a good first impression -”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

When your dad reluctantly walks away, Akaashi grabs your arm.

“You can’t tell them -”

“Why not? You’re great at what you do, if they fire you then you can get a job almost anywhere else - and if they don’t approve, I don’t care.”

“Y/N -”

“Keiji, I want to take us more seriously.”

Akaashi closes his eyes and shakes his head. And you don’t want to stress him out with this - you know he already has a lot going on.

But if he doesn’t want to tell them now, will he ever? Will he choose to keep your relationship a secret forever? And will you always have to settle for it?

You don’t know - nor do you really have the time to think about it right now.

“Okay. Sorry. I won’t tell them anything.”

With that, you get up and go back to the backyard where your parents are waiting expectantly. Akaashi isn’t far behind you.

He’d been feeling awkward the entire party. And having to watch you, dressed up nicely for another guy, faking interest and forcing smiles - it just makes him feel shit, especially because if he could just get over his fears of judgement then you wouldn’t have to deal with this stupid charade.

But he also has to admit to an even more powerful emotion: he’s jealous. He realizes that he wants to be the guy your parents are rooting for, he wants to be the one they believe could take care of their daughter, he wants to be the one you dress up for. But he doesn’t even know if his community college had school colors. And he does know that your parents would never accept him as a match for their daughter.

But he’ll be damned if he’s gonna lose you to some goofy-looking guy whose most interesting characteristic is that they go to a prestigious school - and just watching the boy awkwardly trying to touch your shoulder pisses him off. Can’t he see you shying away?

‘Cornell’ tries again; Akaashi sees you flinch.

That does it.

“It’d be a nice day for a drive, don’t you think?” he hears as he approaches you both.

“…yeah, sure,” you reply, brushing your hair behind your ear. You aren’t even making eye contact with the guy - Ivy League apparently isn’t smart enough to take the hint.

Once he’s close enough, Akaashi puts his hand on the small of your back. “Hey, Y/N.”

You send him a grateful look for the interruption, but the guy in front of you only looks annoyed.

“Excuse me - who are you? I don’t think we were introduced.”

The guy’s fake politeness only added fuel to the fire.

“Akaashi.”

“You can call me Kindaichi - or Yutaro.”

He holds his hand out, and Akaashi doesn’t shake it.

“Look, no offense, but I don’t think my girlfriend is all that interested. Try not being so oblivious.”

With that, he takes your hand and leads you away over to the empty patio.

“Were you jealous, Keiji?”

“Shut up.”

“Just admit it!” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes and refuses to admit anything - even though he knows you’re right.

You tug on his hand; he turns and looks at you slowly. You see the exhilaration mixed with anxiety in his eyes. It matches what you feel in your heart.

“That’s the first person we’ve told about our relationship, by the way.”

–

Later that night, Akaashi texts you and tells you he’s done keeping things secret - he’s ready to be more serious about the relationship, too. You agree to tell your parents the next morning.

Akaashi proceeds to demand that you call him when you’re finished with the conversation; when you do finally call him, he spends at least two minutes anxiously asking questions - you can’t get a word in.

“…are they disappointed? Do they want you to date someone better? With more money? Shit - do I even still have a job?”

“Do you want an answer, or do you just want to keep asking questions?”

His answer is a sigh, and there’s a long silence before you tell him how things went.

“…you know they already knew?”

“They… what?”

“We didn’t do a good job at hiding things, apparently,” you laugh. “And they both talked it over last night, and they agree you’re probably better for me than anyone else.”

“You mean I was worried for nothing?”

“Yeah, babe. Oh, also, dad says you have a lot of yard work to do Thursday, so you should get here early.”

“Sure.”

“Wait - get here extra early, and we can have breakfast together.”

He snorts. “By early, you mean noon, right? I know you like getting your sleep -”

“Shut up!”

—

That Thursday, you wait impatiently for your boyfriend to arrive - you stand at the door to keep a look-out for him. When you see his car pull into your driveway, you quickly run outside.

“Keiji, they bloomed!”

“The flowers we planted?”

“Yeah, come on, you have to see them!”

You pull him around the house to the flowerbeds, where dozens of red and orange marigolds are freshly bloomed.

“You were worried about them for nothing,” you say. “Growing flowers is easy.”

“We all know I worry too much, you don’t have to bring it up anymore.”

His words make both of you laugh, and you stand there together looking at the flowers for a while.

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are,” he replies. Standing behind you, he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can still see the flowers.

“What should we plant next year?”

“Hm… something bigger. A bush, maybe?”

You nod in agreement before leading him back inside to have breakfast - your parents will be joining you, after which he’ll get on with his chores for the day. He’s surprised at how comfortable he feels around your parents, how nothing feels different. He was worried for nothing - he’d have to remember to stop worrying so much.

But next year, when the two of you plant rose bushes, he can’t stop worrying about whether they’d bloom or not - they took a while, much longer than the marigolds. But all that worrying was worth it for the day he came over to find you sat on the porch, holding a red rose.

“I think all your worrying helps them grow.”

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes he replies, “I think you’re right. For once, anyways.”

He decides marigolds are easier, though. And that’s what you’d go with from now on. 

[littlemisssquiggles]

How do you think Penny is going to react to Ruby having lied and kept secrets from them- and her?

Hiya Miki-chan. Happy 2020 to you, fam! Hmm, that’s a good question. As odd as this might sound, I think Penny would be the least angry of Ironwood’s associates once the truth is out.

While I can definitely see Penny being disappointed and a little heartbroken that Ruby chose to deceive her and the General, somehow I can also picture Penny deciding for herself to be understanding of Ruby. I can see this sort of hearkening back to V2 where Penny was forced to lie to Ruby regarding the truth of what she is, based on orders from the General. I can see Penny choosing to be sympathetic to Ruby and remaining trustworthy of her in spite of her recent deceitful actions since, in Penny’s head, Ruby is her friend.

To Penny, Ruby has always been her friend and a good person.

To Penny, Ruby was the first friend she ever made while in Vale and one of the first people other than her father to look and treat Penny as more than just a machine.

I can even see Penny vouching on Ruby’s behalf in a way—maybe even stepping out of line to speak up for Ruby. After all, in Penny’s eyes, Ruby is a good person and if she felt she needed to withhold the truth from the Atlesians then she probably had a good reason to do so and that is enough grounds for Penny to give Ruby a proper fair chance to explain herself and deserve the right to be heard.

Basically what I’m getting at here is that I’m expecting Penny to show Ruby the level of understanding and faith in her integrity that she and the others unfortunately denied Oz the mercy of last volume.

One of the main grievances with how the heroes handled their treatment of Oz was how he was immediately made out to be the bad guy in everyone’s eyes merely because he never told them the truth about Salem.

While I still believe everyone was justified in their anger of Oz from withholding such an important piece of info from them, I guess what irked me was that was all the heroes chose to focus on instead of seeing the grander picture.

What bothered me was all everyone focused on was Ozpin’s deceit while neglecting his entire past with Salem—the fact that he himself was once deceived. When Ozma was brought back, the God of Light neglected to inform him of what transpired between the Gods of Salem. While he did inform him of mankind’s firm decimation and that Salem wasn’t the woman he once knew her to be, I don’t exactly recall Light informing Ozma that Salem was the once who caused humanity’s destruction all because the Gods’ had cursed her with the same immortality that rendered her indestructible.

Not to mention that Salem herself never told Ozma the truth of what happened before he was resurrected. Ozma was lied to as well and I’m starting to wonder if Jinn’s story was a revelation for Ozpin as well. If neither the God of Light nor Salem told Ozma of their actions then…does this mean that Ozma and by extension the Wizards have been fighting for so many years not knowing the whole story?

Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that Ozma was the martyr in all of this. The Gods basically cursed him to rectify a mistake that he never created.To stop a person he once loved who didn’t hesitate to murder him and their children the instant he turned against her in favour of his duty to Gods.

Ozma didn’t create Salem. Salem made herself into the monster she is now by choosing to dive into the Grimm Pools of Darkness and this was after the Gods made her immortal and then left humanity with a problem that they empowered.

Ozma and the Wizards are just the poor, unfortunate souls who were forced to clean up all of this mess and take the fall for any failed attempts they endured just trying to fix this problem. And that’s just the real kicker, isn’t it? Ozmatried. After Salem killed him the first time, Ozma spend one or two lifetimes living in grief and depression of his failures (Ambroise and Emmanuel) before he was finally able to pull himself out of his the rut (Henkle) and by this time, he had also learnt the valuable less of living the men he was paired up with rather than taking over their lives completely.

I saw Henkle as a Renaissance period for Ozma since not only did his lifetime signified the one where Ozma learnt to coexist with his men in his lineage but it was also the lifetime where Ozma decided to get back into the fray to find away to stop Salem once and for all.

This paved the way for Norman’s trials and through him, Ozma discovered the Relics. However he was hit with another roadblock with truth of Salem’s invulnerability.  

This man and his descendants has been knocked down more times than any human or Faunus in Remnant could even fathom and yet here he was, years later, still trying. Even when the odds were obviously stacked against him and he knew they were, Ozma and the Wizards kept trying.

They never gave up on humanity. Even when time gave them reasons to give up and accept the inevitable, humanity kept reminding the Wizards to continue to believe of them in the form of a few kindred people who inspired them to not give up.

This is something I’ve wanted someone in the show to acknowledge about Ozma and essentially Ozpin since he’s the last culmination of him before Oscar. 

Why did he never give up? 

I mean RWBY were all there when Norman (the sixth reincarnation of Ozma) acquired the knowledge of him being unable to stop Salem. As I said, the Wizards knew that they couldn’t stop Salem yet…years later; there was Ozpin—the ninth reincarnation of Ozma—still doing what he could to help humanity.

Ozma never gave up. In spite of not having all the answers. In spite of knowing that there was no way to stop Salem at all, Ozma and his descendants never gave up. They pressed on and kept doing what they could.

I mean, Ozma could’ve easily done what Raven did or Lionheart. He could’ve given up on humanity and joined Salem or go into hiding.

Oh wait, HE DID!

During his life as Diggs, Ozma was once on Salem’s side but he turned against her because he believed in giving humanity a chance rather than destroying them like what Salem wanted to do.

Similar to Raven, my theory is that Ozma did give up. More than once actually, during his lives as Ambroise (the old man), Emmanuel (the drunkard) and finally Isaac (the Hermit). My theory is that Ozma probably gave up a third time after discovering the truth about Salem during his life as Norman. This then lead into him becoming the old hermit that lived alone in the woods during his life as Isaac.

However Ozma would soon find inspiration for a second time in the form of four young women whose unexpected encounter changed his life. My theory still remains that it was the original Four Maidens who renewed Ozma’s hope in humanity; hence the reason why he blessed them with his magic.

I’d also like stand by the belief that as Isaac, Ozma was inspired by the original Four Maidens to create the huntsmen—not just for the sake of forging the vaults to safeguard the Relics from Salem but to also train humanity’s bravest that embodied the same core values of wanting to help others as the Maidens once did.

I’d like to think the Ozma’s time with the Maidens inspired him to pass down his years of combat to provide humanity a fighting chance against the forces of evil by creating the huntsmen class—humanity’s protectors.

But bottom-line is, in spite of everything he and his lineage had been through,Ozma never gave up on doing what he could to help humanity from falling into chaos at the hands of Salem and her forces. This resolve was carried over into Zo’s lifetime even after he became Headmaster of Beacon.

My point is, as I’ll say again is that Ozma never gave up. He tried. All of the Wizards tried including Oz and that’s why it bothers me so much that all the good he’s done suddenly gets erased by everyone because of this one mistake that wasn’t even his fault.

It bothers me how one misstep overwrote all the times Oz has shown compassion to each and every person in his circle. It bothered me so much how no one; not one person showed Oz not even the smallest crumb of sympathy especially when I look back at the times when Oz offered a guiding voice to certain characters were in similar predicaments to him once upon a time.

It bothers me how Ruby turned her back on Oz after the times he offered her advice when she doubted her own leadership or his decision to make her leader.  It bothers me how Blake turned her back on Oz when she of all people should understand what he went through with Salem and how difficult it is dealing with someone with that type of personality when it was the same thing for her with Adam Taurus.

Bottom-line is, while Oz may have slipped up in his past, the other heroes aren’t exactly the innocent party. Not to mention that there are a couple of characters who I would still deem hypocritical for chastising Oz on withholding important information from the team while low-key committing the same action themselves. Isn’t that right, Yang?

Basically what I’m saying is that I can see Penny showing Ruby and the others the sympathy and understanding that they did not show Ozpin back in V6. I can picture Penny remaining resilient in her understand of Ruby and the others especially if Ruby is honest in her feelings about everything. Like if Ruby were to explain to Penny why she chose to keep the truth in the first place while also confessing to her that at the time she believed that she was doing the right thing but now she realized that she made a terrible mistake that she regrets; Penny would understand. At least, she would give Ruby a chance and not be so quick to turn her back on her just for making one mistake.

I can even see it as Ruby thinking that Penny would hate her after everything that happened only to be stunned that she was able to show her compassion still after what she had done.

Perhaps this way, through seeing Penny’s actions, that’s when Ruby would finally realize just how dirty she and the others did Oz. How none of them offered him an ounce of understanding or sympathy for what he went through and the difficulties he had to endure from the tough the decisions he once had to make.

I can this as another example of a way the PLOT can finally spark Ruby and the others acknowledging how wrongfully they hand handled everything with Oz. Who knows? Perhaps the truth being out and Penny (and even Pietro) still remaining in the hero’s court, coupled together with our headcanon of Oscar ending up hospitalized in a coma after being hurt by Tyrian, maybe that will be how things start to slowly get resolved?

It’s a possibility. But overall, that’s how I see Penny. I think she will be one of the few folks who will wish to remain in the heroes’ court once everything is out in the open. That’s my answer. What do you think?

And same question tossed back at you, how do you see thinks playing out for Penny?I know she’s going through her own qualms right now but I feel like Penny is going to end up doing what she always does—the thing that makes her unique—speaking from her heart and doing what she feels in right especially when others believe she should just say in line.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)