#whenever i set aside time to write my brain blanks

[anantaru]

DAY 27 — PRAISING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, dainsleif, xiao, zhongli

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, praise kink, i missed writing lovey dovey stuff, love sick characters, slow sex and very cute, petnames used: love, darling

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

the desire emanating out of neuvillette whenever he made love to you never caused this much of an arising storm deep inside of him, it has never been this violent either— because listen closely now, when he took in your hot heaves that lingered over his rosy cheeks, the want for you consumed him in one quick bite, it transformed him.

at this moment in time, when becoming one with you, when feeling your warmth radiate across his skin had created an almost unbearable emotion totally unique and new to him, stubbornly manifested itself innermost his heart and lungs where it cannot, for even a second, be cast aside or the man will simply fall apart.

"ah— you're beautiful," he whispers into your skin, his fingers admiring the curves of your body, "you're incomparable," and it was welcomed, when neuvillette slid his mouth over your jaw and mouths the wet spots, his hips falling in tandem with your core jolting up to meet him halfway, "—you're spectacular, my love, my darling," as he slowly, curves one palm against your cheek, eyes slowly meeting big and bright, looking empty but revealing so much when he held you close.

"you are breathtaking."

his eyes devoured you again, you can feel it, taste it and sense it when his hips increased, and so did the buzzing slaps of skin colliding against skin— while unsurprisingly, eliciting a sweet noise from you when he surges his body against yours more passionately, his hips working in a steady, slow rhythm so that he was sure he could indulge in all of you, his cock snugly pinned inside of your warm body with the mass of muscle in your walls engulfing him entirely as neuvillette groans into your lips in trembling.

your passionate love— it could set the world aflame, burning like an uncontrollable wildfire, consuming everything in its path and whenever he found himself in your innocent embrace, your spine arching up at him when your frame holds onto the twitches of overstimulation, he found solace and a dwelling haven from the entanglement of his past in the purest, most innocent kinds of loves.

𖧡 — DAINSLEIF

"i love you today, tomorrow, and i will love you forever,"

"—and your heart is mine, mine, mine," dainsleif's mind blanks and for the very first time in his life he could say that he had madly fallen in love with another human being— and he flips back and forth between astonishment, nervousness on not knowing on how to tackle those new emotions and then playfulness, before running back to astonishment again.

but the man loved the view in front of him right now, he would love to capture it with a camera or visualize it before storing it into the deepest parts of his brain. dainsleif cannot stop himself from placing pleasure on you, to say the least, and how your spine bend ever so sinfully when he had you on all fours and smoothly guided his length in so you could feel and taste him— with your ass perked up until his fingers roll over the skin to rest against the hot flesh to keep you close.

for a moment, he drapes himself over your body, his tongue warm and slick against your shoulder, "i wish i could look at you right now," he admits, and everything he did felt good on your body, nothing could compare to the sensation whenever he made love to you.

forevermore, it would always overwhelm your body and guide you towards a sweet rhythm of his hips leisurely rocking back and forth against your plush ass.

but he couldn't stop, so he utters, yet not before nibbling on your skin once more, "—watch how your face changes," and granted, dainsleif could fulfill his own wish in the blink of an eye, yet he prefers to stay in this position for now, for some reason he had become utterly obsessed with it, or how well you clenched down on him or your squealing hiccups that fell on deaf ears every time he shoot his dripping erection back inside.

dainsleif just needed it all, yearned for you his entire life, because the love between you had manifested itself into nothing short but eternal tenderness and warmth, even transcending through space and time.

𖧡 — XIAO

"you're welcome to always stay here, if you so wish,"

xiao whispers to you in a frail note that a swirl shudders down your spine, his voice remaining soft and encouraging with his warm kisses all planted on top of your forehead as he slowly grinds himself into your heat— this time, not upraising the tempo but rather focusing on nudging his tip over the smarting segments battered on your walls.

"and when you call my name," he pauses, "it is you and me."

as you saw it, this moment in time seemed to have stopped rotating, entirely held back to a stand still, the dimly lid bedroom adept with hot, shielding air that accompanied every action like that of being trapped inside of a hot summer day inside a loop, with the difference being that the humidity was surprisingly comforting, soul touching and the transition in your traces had become almost unbearable— with xiao taking his good time with you, your palms reaching over to cup his face while his mouth parts, subtle grunts and breathless moans lingering around him.

xiao would always cherish the bittersweet moments with you, his beautiful princess, thinking that your laughs and kisses together were limited, and it frankly wouldn't even matter on how many times you would attempt to make him aware that you'd never leave him in a million years— a darkness had still continuously altered his mind.

regardless of such, in under a dime xiao had you breathless under him, the air feeling stubbornly hot when he gyrates his hips into your cunt with his body pressed tightly against yours, guiding his cock skillfully in and out as he slants forward and breathes in the little sobs and cries that spill from your pouty lips.

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

"speak to me, love,"  zhongli voices his unwavering need against your pouty lips as his warm pants wrap around your skin with ease, "tell me how it feels," and his voice was so unbelievably reassuring that you're instantly convinced to cry out his name with pleading eyes, his warmth heavy and suffocating between your thighs and making you feel so good.

"i love you," you hiccup sweetly, taking his face in your hands as you squeal a little at his obvious, quite sizable shaft reaching in and out of your ribbed walls, the sound of your pussy splitting apart was deafening as his length was beginning to shine with your arousal, the position providing enough relief to leave you vulnerable and speechless.

"my love," zhongli breaks his words over two broken groans, "my heart will always call out your name, you're beautiful," and something about this current situation was so sensual, so personal and erotic that you felt as if someone squeezed your lungs together, your mind solely focused on what was going on where you were lining up together, namely that sweet and punctuated pressure between your legs, how deliciously good it felt the more he filled you up.

your love was so soulful, intertwining your spirits in an unbreakable bond, it's crazy and zhongli cannot even fathom on how lucky he was to experience this after all of his suffering. he went on, nudging his erection around the walls of skin and branding himself on it— your thighs, as a result, closing around him as he fastens his sensual grinds.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sophieinwonderland]

Hey so idk if youll have an answer but ive been struggling a lot lately

So basically im frontstuck, i cant rlly interact w my headmates or headspace

And like, my headmates can front w me but afterwards + during its like a distant dream

Also my memory is horrible, like i cant remember half of my day.

Ive tried journaling, it didn't work, i forgot about it completely :/

So, yea.. Im just asking in case, yk, you might have advice or something

Hi there. Sorry that you're going through this right now. 💖

Regarding journaling, if your main problem is that you forget to journal, try setting alarms for certain times that you want to journal through the day.

Also, journal in whatever way is most convenient for you. I know that some people will insist on bringing a physical journal with them that they can write in with an actual pen, but if this is inconvenient then you don't need it. A lot of people's communication today is done by text, and if that's easiest, then journaling can be done the same way.

If talking is easier, then you can even use a voice to text app on your phone.

An alarm goes off on your phone, that lets you know that it's time to journal, then you can immediately open up a doc app that you have saved to your home screen.

You can try doing this daily, or if you can, maybe even twice a day. If you really want to exercise your memory to the max, add in a dream journal to that too. Do a dream journal in the morning, journal about your day at a scheduled halfway point, and then once more before bed.

This is obviously a lot of journaling to do but I think that it's best for building habits.

And I think that dream journaling might especially be helpful for overcoming dissociative barriers because dreams are sort of dissociative. That's why it feels so much like a dream when you try to recall what someone else did in front.

So in theory, remembering dreams should help train you to remember what happens in dissociative states as well.

You can also try out an app like habitica to help you build these habits.

Regarding access to the inner world, it's a little hard to know what to say without knowing what you want out of the inner world.

I believe the inner world comes in roughly two varieties. What I consider a deep and surface inner world. A deep inner world is where you would go whenever you aren't fronting. This is where headmates can live out elaborate and complex lives. This also may or may not actually happen, and could possibly just be confabulated memories that are created later by the brain to fill in the blanks.

We don't really experience a deep inner world, aside from maybe a vague sense of having been in the inner world all along whenever one of us fronts or becomes co-conscious for the first time in the while.

But we do experience the surface inner worlds. These are accessed voluntarily through the imagination.

Meditation isn't necessary for this. We've been able to enter surface inner worlds with our eyes wide open before. But meditation is probably best, especially using something to cut out external sound.

Try setting a timer for at least 10 minutes, imagining yourself in whatever place you want to be in, and imagining your headmate that you want to talk to there with you. Then just imagine talking to their form. It's possible that you might not get a response back, but you should stick with it anyways.

I would also advise not waiting until you are too tired before starting to meditate, as it wouldn't be helpful to fall asleep since the goal is to go into the inner world and talk to your headmates.

Hopefully this can be of some help. Best of luck to you!

[casualhedonists]

firstly i apologize for how long this is going to be 😭

i was so emotional as i read attention cuz i just KNEW that there would be an ending eventually, and ofc, i never wanted attention to end. but you wrapped it up SOOOO beautifully! i feel so bad that i can't capture HOW amazing of a read that was in words!! trust me, attention means so so much to me. whenever i thought "i can't wait until chapter 6 comes out!" my anxiety kicked in because i knew that when chapter 6 came out.... it would be over. and that day is here

reading this was like eating your favorite chocolate. every single bite being enjoyable... something you'd think back on days later and crave for more. never getting tired of it.

honestly, its amazing how there is SO much creativity and wonderful fanfics on tumblr... for free? ITS INSANE. as i was reading it i kept saying "this is crazy!" i mean, i couldn't believe?? the plot twist?? the dialogue?? the pacing?? the list could go ON! forever. also you are SO sweet and kind 🫶🫶

i honestly thought she would be furious about what happened to greene... like my jaw dropped as SOON as her mom told her that he was sent to be a peacekeeper. at that moment i KNEW it was all snows fault. i seriously felt like it was over for them... like a whole fight scene was about to take place and she would move out, leading to snow being destroyed, alone, teary eyed and begging her to stay... that wouldve crushed me. i'm so glad she felt the complete opposite.

it's was SO interesting to think back on and see her progress. at first she was desperate, trying to win snow over by playing his games, trying to turn the tables and make snow become weak for her. but eventually she got the idea, and now SHE dominates HIM. it was neat seeing things come full circle!! now he's getting a taste of his own medicine (pun intended?)!!

also medicine is like... god i mean, do i even??? one of my top harry songs. SO GOOD!!!! do you also listen to him?? if so i can recommend other (more unknown) songs of his that give the same vibe if you'd like!

i am REALLY excited for your future works!!!! i admire your writing style and how talented you are. tbh you're the reason i'm inspired to start my own fanfic. but honestly, i'm scared because it is SO difficult thinking of a good storyline and plot... my brain is blank. i feel like every thing i think of sounds generic and cliche which puts me in a writers block. (do you have any tips?)

thank you so much for taking the time to read this!! i hope you have an amazing day!!

-💐

flower nonnie you. can have my whole heart here *carves it out walks it to fedex and mails it to you w next day delivery*

i read this first thing yesterday and it MADE MY WHOLE DAY i swear. like im so happy you enjoyed the fic so much, this is so much more than i could ever hope for as a response and it means the world to me that you’d set aside time to type out such a sweet message. it’s bittersweet to say goodbye to attention bc it is The Fic that brought me into this fandom (and out of my fic writing block) and it means so much to me bc it’s been so fun and it makes me so happy to know people feel that way when reading it. i had the final line written since (chapter 3?? i think) so i always knew that’s how i’d close it off and it was SO satisfying getting to type that last line in.

also it was sooo much fun to write her little mastermind by taylor swift moment (what if i told you none of it was accidental etc etc) and also yes omg i love harry (mostly his unreleased songs tbh!! like baby honey, medicine, talk, complicated freak) and ofc the usual suspects like kiwi and sign of the times and harry’s house. i am so so open to more song recs!! esp unreleased or lesser known ones!

in terms of writing tips, i wrote down a little thing a while back here but my main thing is to write what you want to read. that’s all i’ve ever done in fic and personal writing projects/poetry of mine. if you write for only yourself you can never go wrong imo, everything else is just topping. so start there, doesn’t matter if it’s been done before, so long as it makes you happy!! (one day i should tell the story of my first fic that actually got read by people online it was a whole journey that started with me assuming nobody would ever see it but me)

okay this is getting long i’ll close out now but thank you sweet anon for the kind words, i can’t even tell you how much they mean to me!! you are truly too kind!! 🤍🤍🤍

[sleepyowlwrites]

38 and 39 for the writer asks

38 I answered already and basically I said that I also think it's crazy that I write best when I'm going by the seat of my pants. like, just really, really pantsing it. NO plot, JUST vibes will get me the farthest into a story than any worldbuilding, brainstorming, outlining, or character sheet-ing will.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

I only felt like giving up the one time. and I did. I took a break. I also went to college during that time, so personally I think that was a very good reason to take the break separate from how nothing was working out the way I wanted it to, but yeah. I didn't write original fiction - minus a couple of shorts - for six years. I took a break for a couple years and then started writing fanfiction, which was a fantastic time. I built my original tumblr following with my fanfics, and I actually just had a spam of comments on ao3 from someone finding my fics and enjoying them. in 2018 I started writing original fiction again and I've been going reasonably steady since then - with the exception of November-December since 2020 because I'm too exhausted to write anything during those months.

nothing makes me want to stop writing anymore. this is, I think, due to a few factors.

a) I feel very positively about my writing. I don't always like it. I don't always think it's good, but I always feel positively about it in the sense that I'm glad I've written, I'm glad I'm writing. I don't get discouraged by crap first draft stuff. I also don't really write crap anymore, at the level I'm at. I write decent first draft stuff. not always coherent or going anywhere, but not bad. so it's easier to feel positive about it, but even if it were bad, I still wouldn't dislike it.

b) I write for me. my target audience is me. there is no purpose to my writing higher than the fact that I would like to read it, and right under the purpose is the fact that I enjoy the act of writing enough that regardless of quality, it is always a worthwhile pastime. there are no due dates, there are no rush orders, nothing is keeping me to being a writer except that I want to be. I write for me, because I like it.

c) if I need to take a break, if I'm getting burnt out, or if I'm just generally tired, I'll just do that. I won't write. I won't write plot, anyway. I might write character stats, or ideas, or set dressing, or vibes. or nothing. I'll just think about it. again, it's all for me, I've got the time to rest before I continue.

d) if I come to a point where something I've been work on isn't currently working any longer, I'll put it aside. by now you must know I have so many projects. I flounder if I try to work on only one wip at a time, and so I have current projects, backburner projects, lost in the shuffle projects, barely formed concepts, blank books, all kinds of stuff. there's always something new or reused that I can think about. I don't feel guilty about putting something down and picking up something new. soon enough I'll be picking up that old thing again.

I haven't worked on summon story in a bit because it wasn't working. so I was ruminating about guild story and answering asks about city story and I wrote that scene for apocalypse story. and then! I figured out what was going on with summon story! it was the tone. it wasn't goofy enough. I was trying to shove a plot in where it wasn't wanted. I know how I want to write it now. so I can, whenever I've got the spoons. and the soup. the brain soup.

thanks for asking, Rainstorm!

[the-last-kenobi]

Hi, how are you? Hope all is well) Can you please write "Where have you been" with Anakin and a very very depressed and sad Obi?

Of course!

From this various prompts list.

I admit I wasn’t sure exactly which angle you were hoping for, but this is the one my brain liked, so here we are.

_

Anakin’s hand shook slightly as he ran the cloth over the glass mug, turning it in his hands. Water beaded up in the wake of his first attempt, so he went back again a little slower, making sure he left no smudges behind. Then he carefully placed it in the cabinet where it belonged, each shelf lined with different mugs, most of them glass, a few of them seemingly random — porcelain, wood, something that looked like clay, a deep red crystalline substance.

Anakin knew that the ones that weren’t glass had all, once, belonged to Qui-Gon.

They were used rarely. Carefully. Cherished like treasures.

The rest, the glass, those were Obi-Wan’s.

He liked the perfection of glass, its transparency, the way he could watch the teas he brewed and steeped changing, colors swirling and fading beneath his fingers.

Anakin found them difficult to maintain and hard to clean.

His hand shook again, and he quickly put down the towel and set aside the next mug, turning away from the still untidy kitchen.

His gloved metal hand raked through his hair.

It was late.

It was very late.

He walked to the window and brushed aside the curtain with one hand, confronted first with his own ghostly reflection, and then focusing on the view outside. It was pouring down rain. A rare enough occurrence here on Coruscant, and tonight, of all nights, when Obi-Wan could be out there.

He could be anywhere.

Anakin didn’t know.

Obi-Wan had been missing for twenty-nine hours.

He had walked out of their shared quarters while Anakin was visiting Padmé, sometime in the early evening yesterday, leaving his cloak behind, leaving his lightsaber behind.

And then he was gone.

Anakin had searched all the usual places. He’d reached out to Dex, and alerted Mace Windu and Healer Che, and sent Ahsoka to check with the crèche and Initiates dorm in case he was there playing with and teaching the little ones. He’d contacted Bail and Padmé, and gained permission after the twelve hour mark to examine the security holos.

There was nothing.

It was as if Obi-Wan Kenobi had stepped over the threshold of their door and just fallen out of existence.

Anakin watched rain lash against the window, scattering his pale reflection into twisted fragments, and tried to remind himself that he had already been searching for twenty-five hours straight. That he hadn’t slept or eaten. That Master Koon had forbidden him from going out into the storm to search, when they already had rested and armored troopers doing a steady sweep of the Temple perimeter, even when they didn’t know if Obi-Wan had actually left the grounds.

The Temple was massive.

He could be hiding in an unused wing, or in the depths of the dustiest levels, or in the back of the Archives, or the towers.

No, not the Archives. Master Nu had already searched there and that woman would never miss so much as a hair out of place in her domain, much less a High Councilor.

Anakin had heard Master Mundi making noises about a possible trap or an abduction.

And while that was bad — nightmarish — to contemplate, Anakin had his own fears, and they felt much more realistic, much too close for comfort.

Anakin flung himself down on the sofa with his head in his hands and tried not to admit that he was frightened.

He had seen Obi-Wan like this before. Back when they were a new partnership and Qui-Gon was dead but there was still so much of him living in the Temple, like the mugs, one still the on the countertop with a faint imprint of his lips staining the rim, or his spare cloaks and boots, and the trinkets and potted plants that filled every available space. And Obi-Wan had...

Well. Whenever he thought Anakin wasn’t paying attention, he was so quiet. He barely slept for days and then slept too much. He hardly ate and then ate random things at random times. He hardly smiled.

He wandered off.

Alone.

The worst time had been when Anakin was six months in to his apprenticeship. He had woken up with a terribly bad feeling to find his Master missing from his bed, and with the unerring instinct of a worried child, he had shot off in search of Master Yoda, who had quietly raised the alarm amongst the older Masters. It was Master Windu who had found Obi-Wan, quiet and shrunken and apathetic, concealed in one of the many gardens, letting the life of the garden conceal his dimming force signature from view.

Anakin had clung to him like he was about to disappear, and Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to really process that he was there...

Eventually he had pulled out of it. Anakin didn’t know how.

But this...

Anakin had been worried since Geonosis that he would lose his Master to death on the battlefield. Then there had been Ventress and Jabiim and Grievous and Dooku and Maul — Maul — and suddenly it felt like Obi-Wan was never safe. The war and his enemies chased him everywhere.

But Obi-Wan had lost friends and peers and younglings he had once taught or cradled in his arms when they were so very small, and his Master’s murderer had come back like a resurrected demon to plague him, to threaten his life and sanity and everyone he loved — and Satine had already paid with her life.

Others might.

And when Anakin had come racing back home from 500 Republica when he’d heard the news, it was already too late, and Obi-Wan had gone off all alone stars knew where.

That was enough.

Anakin leapt to his feet, his body trembling with fear and nausea, determined to ignore orders.

Damn their kindness and responsibility, damn the fact that he’d probably only get soaked and miserable, he was going out searching again.

Anakin strode towards the door on shaking legs.

It swung open before he neared it, and there was Obi-Wan.

Anakin gaped at him.

Obi-Wan stared blankly back. “...Anakin?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, staring at him, taking him in. He was without his cloak and lightsaber, as he had known he would be, and was soaking wet — completely sopping, as if he had swum in a lake rather than wandered about in a rainstorm.

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, his voice strained. “Where have you been?”

His Master continued to look blank. “I went out.”

“You went out? You’ve been gone for well over a day!” Anakin cried out. “Where have you been?”

Obi-Wan shrank away from the shouting. His blue eyes flickered around the room as if looking for an answer, or perhaps an escape, and still his expression was utterly detached. “I... I don’t know, really. Here and there.”

A pause.

“Was I really gone for so long?” he asked. He sounded distantly, disinterestedly bewildered, and Anakin broke.

“Yes!” he shouted, his face screwed up in anger, in an attempt to hold back childish tears. “Yes you have! You disappeared! There are people looking for you, and the Council was worried you’d been taken, and I was so— I was — so — I— you can’t do that to me, Obi-Wan, please, I was losing my mind!”

Obi-Wan’s blank expression finally shifted.

A look of confusion and worry built behind the vague blue eyes, and Anakin launched himself at his friend like he had all those years ago, locking his limbs around him in a fierce hug.

For a long moment it was like hugging a statue. A very cold, very wet statue that shivered ever so slightly.

But Anakin held on, determined to keep Obi-Wan right here, to keep him safe and warm, to make him understand that he was needed, that he could also rest, that it would all be okay if he just stayed. Stayed like he had before. His tunics began to absorb some of the icy moisture coming off his Master but he kept holding on, his face buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

And slowly, Obi-Wan came to life.

His hands inched upwards to rest against his Padawan’s back, and he tilted his head so that he was leaning against Anakin’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I had no idea you’d be so concerned.”

“I wasn’t concerned, you absolute idiot, I was scared,” Anakin hissed, the confession both bitter and relieving on his lips. “How would you feel if I vanished with no word? For thirty hours?”

A long silence.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, “I would be impressed with Padmé for not getting bored of you long before that.”

There was a dead silence.

Then a spluttered, incredulous laugh, and it took Anakin a moment to realize it was he who was laughing. His shoulders shook with it, with shock at the revelation of what Obi-Wan knew, that he wasn’t angry about it, that he was cracking stupid, mean, dumb jokes about it when Anakin was trying to be mad at him.

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly, and Anakin laughed harder, delighted that his friend was smiling, if only a little.

“You’re not off the hook you know,” he mumbled, guiding Obi-Wan to his rooms, planning on forcing him to take a hot shower and drink warm tea and maybe pull out one of Qui-Gon’s old cloaks, because that always helped.

“Neither are you,” Obi-Wan mumbled back, and squeezed his hand every so briefly.

~

When Plo Koon dropped by to check on Anakin, very early the next morning, he found him sleeping soundly on a chair, snoring quietly, his feet propped on the arm of the sofa, where Obi-Wan was fast asleep with an old cloak that was far too large for him draped over his body.

It was easy to forgive them to forgetting to inform the Guard to call off the search.

Mace could pretend to yell at them during their next Council meeting, during which, he was sure, the two friends would stand side by side, mischief in their eyes.

~

[minty-fanfic-corner]

Uhm if reqs are still open, can I ask a stoic, maid worker s/o (somewhat like Noelle) and the character/s of your choice just sees them dancing ballet gracefully?

Like they're always with a flat smile whenever they help around in the nation's (country?) Then they see them dancing ballet?

You can choose whoever you like soo yeah :))

Stay safe and hydrate😌

Hiya!

You're actually my first request, I didn't think I'd get one that quickly omg ;;;;

So here's the fic! I hope I did it okay ;;;;

Stay safe too!

~*~*~*~

Albedo walking in their S/O dancing ballet

Warnings: Not proof read

A/N: Tried to make it GN too, tell me if there's any big mistake!

As you entered the cold room, you couldn’t help but remember the day Albedo found you. It happened a few years ago already. You had just arrived in Mondstadt, and you were eager to show everyone what you were capable of. And so, you set of for an expedition in Dragonspine. All by yourself. Without any knowledge of the mountain. Needless to say, the situation turned bad really quickly, and you ended up lost in a snowstorm. Your only option was to retreat in a small cavern. There, you curled up into a ball, hopping to keep yourself warm. Even if it was just a little, it was better than nothing. But the cold was getting the best of you. You were starting to grow colder and colder, you could feel yourself get unconscious. As everything was turning black around you, you heard some footsteps.

You finally woke up a few hours later, in a small bed back in Mondstadt. You quickly got up, confused and panicked.

“You should lay back down…”

You turned your head to the direction of the voice. He had just entered the room, a plate of food in his hands. Something about him was so calming, you immediately relaxed and laid back down. The man then set the food aside and looked at you with a calming voice

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

That was the first time you met Albedo. Even though you didn’t know anything about alchemy, he suggested that you help him around his lab. Just running some errands, doing some cleaning… And of course, you accepted! This also gave you time to explore the mysterious mountain to your liking. You appreciated helping him and Sucrose, and he was happy he could make sure you were always ok.

But of course, hearths and brains work in a weird way. As the years passed, you found yourself thinking more and more about him. Albedo was always on your mind. At some point, your hearth would start beating like crazy when you had to work with him. But what about Albedo? He never really showed any emotions, so you had no clues on what you should do, and this was getting stressful.

Albedo was honestly feeling the same way. He was always thinking about your smile, he could always hear your laugh, see the way your eyes light up… But he could never tell what was going inside your head. Most of the time, you had a flat smile, normal smile. So of course, he didn’t know what you thought of him. But to him, even your small smile meant the world to him. He would do anything to see it everyday.

But now, you hadn’t shown up to work in a few days, and Albedo was getting worried. Were you hurt? Were you mad at him? Now, he was just sitting at his desk, looking at a blank page. He knew he had to write his report, but his mind was always drifting back to you. What if you were lost in Dragonspine again? What if you were sick? Now, he was really panicking.

“Sucrose, I’ll be out for the day.”, he said as he got up quickly.

Sucrose gave him a questioning glance, followed by a question which he didn’t hear. His mind was way too preoccupied to hear her.

Albedo finally made it to the City of Freedom. Nothing had changed since his last visit: The smell of steak from Good Hunter, Katheryne briefing some adventurers and the music played by different bards. He looked quickly over Flora’s flowers shop; he had asked you for some flowers earlier this week. But he couldn’t see your familiar face. Letting out a sigh, he kept on walking. Maybe he should check at your appartement first. But as he walked in front of the Knight of Favonius office, that is when he heard it.

Music. And it was music he had heard you hum before.

He felt mesmerized. As if he were controlled, he walked in the grand building. Following the sound, he was led in front of a wood door, at the second floor. Without a second thought, Albedo opened the door and walked in the cold room. And that is when he saw you.

You were dancing, following the music. You were chaining all those graceful movements. Assemblé, grand jeté, fouetté, pirouette… He was filled with love and pure admiration for you. It was just so beautiful…

As you executed the last steps, he applauded. You, who still hadn’t noticed him, got scared and turned suddenly, now looking at him.

“Albedo…! When did you get in??”

He could see you face getting all red. And you could feel yourself burning yourself from the inside. Albedo then cleared his throat:

“Ah, sorry (Y/N)… I didn’t mean to scared you.”

He stopped there. You kept looking at him, expecting something more.

“You hadn’t shown up in a few days, and I was getting worried… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”, he finished.

You nodded shyly.

“I’m sorry Albedo, I wasn’t feeling so well lately. I… I’m sorry I let you down…”

He shook his head and walked up to you.

“You didn’t let me down (Y/N), don’t worry.”

You felt his hand taking yours.

“Let’s go eat together. There’s something I’d like to tell you…”

[symphonicmetal101]

After watching some anime, can I request the brothers and Side characters with an MC that makes really great bentos in their aesthetic with their favorite meals? MC could make Lucifer a fancy dish of steak done to his favorite temperature, side dishes are organized neatly, and the bento is red and black to match his design or she made pink/pastel treats for Asmo is a very cute bento that matches his style. I think it would make their day when they receive something so cute from the human

ABSOFRICKINGLUTELY! ANON! I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU! However, I write gn! Whenever possible, so I hope you don't mind. Also, I've only made bento once, so I did a tinny bit of research. Most of them stray from traditional bento, however I tried to make sure I had the four components, (protien, carbs, salad/veggies, and fruit) (except Asmo), and different cooking methods for each. Some of them I forgot to explicitly say what colour the box was, so I'm sorry about that. I didn't do Luke because he had a role in Simeon's, and I blanked. (Sorry) Also, some of them have links bc I started to lose inspiration and motivation to write the same thing over and over again bc brain juice went bye. Hopefully I did this justice, I may have gotten a little carried away...sorry for rambling.

MC Makes Bento For The Boys

Lucifer

Lucifer had been working non-stop for the past few weeks

You had barely seen him, as he was so busy going back and forth from the castle, meetings, and he had banned everyone from his office. It had gotten so bad that he would "postpone" his meals, but nobody had seen him eat in a while.

You had a lot of spare time, so you did meal prep for the whole week just for Lucifer.

It was a little past noon by the time you finished, (and made Beel swear he wouldn't touch the food because you would treat him at Madam Scream's later), so you decided to make a bento box for Lucifer's lunch today with some leftover beef and rice you had.

With your protein and carbs taken care of, you prepared some roasted asparagus to add some colour to the box as well as a couple of carrots. You also added an umeboshi plum on top of the rice to match the colour of the box. (A/N I personally don't mind umeboshi on it's own, but if anyone wants to try it, I highly suggest you eat it with rice or have water on hand 😂)(oh yeah, umeboshi is a small, sour, pickled plum.)

In the final box you arranged a couple of orange slices, strawberries and grapes.

Satisfied, you brought the box and a glass of water up to his study. You didn't even bother knocking, knowing he would just send you away anyways.

You were greeted by a low growl. "Get out."

You rolled your eyes. "No. You need to eat Lucifer, and I'm not leaving until I know you've finished this."

"I don't have time for this MC. I have to-" he was cut off by his stomach rumbling.

He blushed slightly, and continued to busy himself with work.

"Please? I hate seeing you overwork yourself like this. Have you looked in the mirror lately? When was the last time you slept? Eaten? Had something other than coffee? Have you even gone to the bathroom in the past 48 hours?"

He sighed, folded his hands under his chin and looked up at you through disheveled raven locks.

"...you really aren't going anywhere until I eat." It wasn't a question, rather a statement with a trace of relief in it.

You extended the bento box out to him once more, though this time he accepted it.

"....thank you MC.....this is quite delicious. Perhaps once I'm done my work I can take you out to Ristorante Six to show my appreciation."

You pushed his hair back and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Once you're done your work, you're going to sleep. That's an order, sir."

He silently cursed himself as he felt himself blush again

You were planning to stay until he finished, but then you heard Mammon and Levi fighting.

"I'll take care of that love. Make sure you drink that water too. Also, I prepped meals for the rest of the week for you, so you have no excuse to not eat. I bribed Beel, so they should stay there, but as an extra precaution I got Satan to teach me a protection spell. I didn't tell him what it was for, so it should be fine."

He watched you close the door behind you and wondered what he did to deserve someone like you.

Mammon

He was complaining to you because his actions finally caught up with him, and tomorrow he had to go out and repay some witches with time and favours, (being a bagboy), instead of money

He started belly-aching even more when you told him you weren't interested in joining him.

Luckily you were on dinner duty tonight, so you had a legitimate excuse to leave his pity-party

However while you were making dinner, you decided to show Mammon a little bit of sympathy, and set some rice and pork cutlet aside that you could use later.

After dinner, Mammon followed Lucifer, trying to convince him to give him money.

So you had ample time to continue working on his bento.

He had a three compartment wooden box

You scooped the rice into the box, put the cutlet on top, and two thinly sliced pieces of lemon on top.

You cut up some yellow, red, and orange bell pepper to put in the top left corner of the box

In the last compartment, you cut up golden kiwi, pineapple chunks, and a couple blueberries

You were about to put it in the fridge, when Mammon came screaming into the kitchen.

"MC HELP ME LUCIFER'S MAD I DON'T WANNA GET STRUNG UP AGAIN AND- wait, what's that?"

You sighed. "It was supposed to be a surprise Mammon! I made lunch for you for tomorrow, because you're going to be doing some running around and who knows when you'll get a moment to yourself? I was going to cast a spell on it to keep Beel from eating it, so it would have lasted overnight too... I just want to make sure you have something healthy to eat and so you don't have to spend money on take out. If you don't want it though, I'll just give it to Beel..."

He blushed furiously. "Ya don't gotta worry bout me, silly human. The Great Mammon can take care of himself! But-uh, I'll probably end up taking it anyways, because it's umm, it's free food! And Mammon ain't about to pass that up!"

He tried to grab it, but you pulled it close to yourself and turned, blocking him.

"You only want it because it's free? Ok. Fine. You'll have to pay me if you want it." You teased

He whined a bit. "Aw come on, ya even said ya didn't want me spendin money tomorrow! And ya said it was for me! MC, this ain't fair!"

"I didn't say you had to use money."

The next day while Mammon was out and about, trying to carry multiple bags of stuff for the witches, he happily ate his food, a light blush on his cheeks as every bite reminded him of the way you felt against his lips yesterday.

Leviathan

Levi had lost out on another draw despite having spent copious amounts of money on the tickets

As such, he had locked himself in his room to temporarily drown in his sorrows

You decided to make Kyaraben, character bento, for him. (Kyaraben can also refer to animals, real life celebrities, or natural settings)

(I would do Ruri- Chan but I have no fricking clue, so here's a link to a recipe for Pikachu Kyaraben because that's what you did instead)

Hesitantly, you brought your creation to his room and lightly knocked on the door.

"...I don't wanna talk to anyone right now."

"Levi, it's me. I brought something to cheer you up! At least let me give it to you if you don't want me to stay."

You could hear some scuffling and mumbling from behind the door. "I highly doubt there's anything a normie like you can do to help."

You tried to brush that off, because, ouch, but you knew he was upset so you tried not to take it to heart.

He was pouty as he opened the door, his demon form on display.

His expression immediately changed when he saw the bento in your hands.

"WOOOOOAAAHHH!!! THIS IS FOR ME??!! YOU MADE ME BENTO??!! This is something straight out of anime!!! Uh...uhm...d-do you maybe w-want to share it?"

The last part of his sentence had him blushing furiously, and he refused to look you in the eye.

"Sure. Maybe we can watch that anime you texted me about a couple days ago too."

His eyes lit up with joy as he used his tail to gently grab your wrist and pull you excitedly to his couch.

Once he had arranged everything to his liking, he sat down and bashfully accepted the bento.

At some point, he asked if he could feed it to you, however, there was only one pair of chopsticks

Blushy otaku very much enjoyed the bento, not only because it was like his anime, but also because it was you who made it.

He also got a couple indirect kisses, and could not focus on anything but that for the next few days.

Satan

You and Satan had been spending a lot of time together lately because he was helping you study for a test

Thanks to Satan's tutoring, you had managed to get a much higher score on the test than you had imagined.

As thanks, you wanted to make a kitten Kyaraben

You found him in the library at a desk, hunched over a book, studying some foreign language.

He was so engrossed in his studies that he didn't notice you right away, so you tapped him gently on his shoulder.

"Ah, MC. I'm afraid I missed you coming in. Are you alright?"

You smiled and nodded. You brought the box out from behind your back with your test papers on top, the mark clearly visible.

"I couldn't have gotten that mark without your help, so I made you some bento as thanks. I hope you like it."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh MC, that wasn't necessary. Spending time with you was enough for me, but thank you."

He slid the lid off the bento and chuckled when he saw what you had done.

"That's quite clever kitten. Perhaps next time you can show me how to make it?"

His pet name made you blush a bit, but that didn't stop you from agreeing.

You two spent the next few hours discussing different meals you guys could learn to make together.

Asmodeus

Asmo had been taking you shopping lately, hyping you up and helping you destress with spa nights

In return, you decided to make a dessert bento box in a pretty pink container.

It was a square container split into nine compartments.

Across the top three compartments, you arranged a rainbow of mochi.

On the bottom three you arranged a rainbow of macaroons.

In the two outside compartments left, you put a mini Wicked cupcake in each

Finally in the middle, you arranged Hershey's kisses into a heart.

Satisfied, you made your way to his room and announced your presence at his door.

"Come in darling~ I'm just finishing up my nails!"

You let yourself in and settled across the table from Asmo.

"I brought you something. I just wanted to thank you for helping me out lately and show you how much I appreciate you!"

You placed the box next to him so he could see what you had done.

His squeal of excitement almost decimated your eardrums, however moments later you were enveloped in a very tight, heartfelt, "smooshy" hug, but his elated expression made up for your temporary loss of hearing.

"Ohh MC! You're so sweet!!!! These look delicious, let's share them!! Just let me take a picture first with my favourite snack!!"

You sat back and expected him to pick up a cupcake, but yelped as he pulled you into the frame.

"I said with my favourite snacc MC, and I meant it!!" (Yes, he still took a picture of the bento)

Beelzebub

You wanted to plan an outdoor date for the two of you that wouldn't require you to excersize.

So you decided to try and make Koraku Bento, or picnic bento, but even bigger in hopes you would be able to temporarily satiate Beel's hunger

Because you were making so much, you needed multiple boxes, and a couple days to prepare, so you asked Simeon if you could work at PH so Beel wouldn't get to it early.

Of course, he agreed

Day one, you prepared five different fillings for the Onigiri you were planning to make: sha-ke (salted salmon),umeboshi (Japanese pickled plum), okaka (bonito flakes moistened with soy sauce), kombu (simmered kombu seaweed), tuna mayo (canned tuna with Japanese mayonnaise)

Day two you prepared three large protiens, (chicken, beef, and pork), each enough to fill about two containers each. You cooked each of them differently. You also cut up/prepared vegetables you wanted to use for tempura.

Day three you woke up early in order to be ready to take Beel out after his game. You made rice and finished making the Onigiri, (which Luke was adamant you let him make with you).

And Simeon helped you make the tempura and a beautiful salad to accompany everything else.

However, now there was a lot of stuff to carry and you wanted to greet Beel out of his game.

So the angels took care of transporting the food to the roof while you went to get Beel

"Why are we going to Purgatory Hall? Are we having dinner with the angels?"

"Not quite. The date I wanted to take you on had a slight change of plans. We just need to get to the roof-"

"Do you want me to fly us up there?"

You considered it for a moment then agreed. If nothing else, you would be avoiding Solomon.

Once you landed, appreciation for the angels swelled as they had laid everything out so beautifully.

"...oh. It looks like someone else is doing something up here. It smells really good, so we should probably go. I don't want to eat someone else's food and ruin their night by accident....again." He tried to leave, but you pulled on him gently.

"I'm glad you think it smells good. This is for you! I made it for you, and the angels helped me bring it up here when I went to pick you up."

His eyes widened. "...All of that...you made it for me?"

You couldn't help but smile and nod at his bashful expression.

He hugged you gently. "Thank you MC. I know that took a lot."

"It was worth it! You haven't even tried it yet. Come on, I'm hungry!" You giggled.

Beel's stomach growled in response, causing a slight blush to light his cheeks. You're so good to him❤

Belphegor (this has a bit of crack energy, I'm sorry. So will Solomon's😅)

"MC....can you pass me my D.D.D?"

"MC....can you give me a massage?"

"MC....can you switch my laundry for me?"

"MC....can you pass me my pillow?"

"Belphie, I love you. I understand you're the Avatar of Sloth. But what the actual fuck? Your pillow is under your arm, just move it under your head. I've already gotten up, like six times to do stuff for you."

He groaned. "But it takes too much effort!" He smushed his cheek into his arm and attempted to give you puppy-dog eyes.

"Sorry, only Beel can pull that off. If you want your pillow moved less than a foot, you're going to do it yourself. You of all people should now how frustrating it is to get up as soon as you sit down."

He groaned again and grumbled as he moved his own damn pillow.

You tried to relax a bit. Normally your time with Belphie consisted of cuddles, movie nights, planeterium visits, or just plugging into some music and enjoying each other's company, like you were trying to do now.

Until you made eye contact with him again.

He was going to ask something-

"MC........... can you get me a snack?"

Dear God, he was not gonna like this.

"Of course Belphie. I'd love to."

You made your way to the kitchen with new found energy.

You were going to make Shikaeshi Bento (revenge lunchbox)

Basically, it's supposed to be inedible or embarrassing, and be used to convey anger or overall dissatisfaction

So you grabbed his bento box, dumped uncooked rice into it, cracked an egg and left the shell in the box. You used purple food colouring to make a heart.

You brought the box up to Belphie, who was surprisingly still awake

"That was quick."

You grunted in response and walked out

"Hey why are you leaving?!"

A few seconds later, you heard, "MC! ...WHAT DID I DO??!! I JUST WANTED A SNACK!!...MC PLEASE COME BACK I DON'T WANNA GET UP!!"

Diavolo

So, usually Barbatos is in charge of making sure the Demon Prince eats

However, you told Barbatos that you wanted to make something special for Dia

"My Lord would thoroughly enjoy anything you made for him. He's been very busy lately, so I'm sure he would appreciate the kind gesture."

Barbatos graciously gave you precedence over the kitchen, giving you full access to everything you could ever need or want.

You decided to make him bento with your favourite protein

One compartment you filled with rice, using sesame seeds and an umeboshi for garnish

You arranged pieces of your favourite fruits in one of the smaller compartments

Then you made your favourite type of tempura, and prepared the sauce to go in the last two compartments

You asked Barbatos where Diavolo would be, and he escorted you to his office.

"My Lord, MC has come to speak with you."

Diavolo's head shot up and his face lit up with delight as he watched you walk through the door.

"MC! A welcome surprise. How are you? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine! I actually just wanted to give you something." You gave him the black box.

"I made bento with some of my favourite things...you mentioned wanting to get to know me a little bett-"

You were cut off by Diavolo crushing you in a hug

"...My Lord, MC needs to breathe."

"Ah, my apologies MC. This is the most wonderful, meaningful thing anyone has ever given me. How can I adequately express my gratitude? Simply name anything you want, and it shall be yours."

Once you had regained your breath, you gave him a small smile.

"Anything? Could I trouble you for your time?"

"MC, Lord Diavolo must finish his work in a timely matter. I can clear his schedule for afterwards."

"Barbatos, could they stay long enough for us to share the wonderful meal they've prepared?"

Usually Diavolo's begging and sad eyes™ would be powerless against him, however the soft spot he had for you and your much- less-seen sad expression were enough for him to bend this once.

"My Lord, I'll be back in an hour. I'm afraid that's all the time I can allow."

He stepped out, and allowed a small smile form on his face as he heard the two of you celebrate, also knowing that later on he would be listening to a very happy prince recount everything you two talked about and how much he loved you.

Barbatos

You, the brothers, and the other exchange students had been invited to the demon lord's castle for another event

It wasn't for another day, but you felt your chest tighten as you remembered Barbatos

Did he even get to eat those days when everyone was there?

You didn't want to take that chance, and decided to set up a small, filling bento box.

It only had three compartments, so you stuffed each one.

One had rice and meat.

You made some sushi and tamagoyaki to go on top.

For the last compartment, you made a simple chickpea salad.

The next day, Barbatos welcomed you all to the castle, as per usual.

However, this time he stuck around once the brothers and others had left.

"I...Well you already know, but this is for you!"

He nodded and graced you with a smile. "My knowing does not take away from my appreciation MC. Admittedly, nights like this are very demanding. I will repay you later. Thank you."

He tried to walk away, but you yelled after him, "You're not supposed to repay someone for a gift! Just take it!!"

He smiled to himself as he started to eat some food.

Perhaps this night would not be as taxing as he thought

Simeon

You had been experimenting new dinner recipes with Luke at Purgatory Hall; you were watching him while Simeon was away.

"If we leave these leftovers out, Solomon will get to them and ruin them."

"....why don't we make bento for Simeon? He's coming back tomorrow, isn't he?"

Luke beamed at you. "Okay!"

He went to get a small bento box divided into fifths (two large bottom compartments and three small top ones).

"Ok, so in one of the big ones, we can fit the rest of the rice."

Luke nodded. "Can I use this?" He held up a star-shaped cookie cutter.

"Of course!" You helped him mould the rice into a stable star shape.

He looked so happy designing stuff, you let him take the lead.

By the time you were finished, it was easily the most stunning dish you had seen.

"Wow MC! We should do this more often!" He was very proud of himself, and rightfully so. "I can't wait to give it to Simeon!....Is it ok if I give it to Simeon? It was your idea, so it's ok if you want to do it instead..."

You just smiled at him. "You can give it to him, you did most of the work anyways. For now though, you need to get to bed."

He pouted slightly, but complied.

The next morning you woke up to Luke speaking very animatedly to Simeon.

"Yeah! We tried a bunch of new things, and then MC suggested we make you a bento box with the leftovers, and it turned out really well so I can't wait for you to try it!!"

You leaned against the kitchen doorframe observing the interaction.

"Thank you Luke, it looks wonderful. Good morning MC. I hope you slept well. Thanks for ba- for helping Luke while I was away."

He smiled gently at you before Luke was trying to get him to try the bento again.

He took a bite and smiled at Luke.

"It's delicious. You guys must have put a lot of love into it, as always." He looked directly at you at that point, but Luke was too elated to notice the silent exchange between you too.

Solomon

"Don't get mad at me! You agreed to test spells with me!"

"You asked me when I was half asleep Solomon! I also meant later, not right away!"

"Well, you're not a frog anymore, so I don't see what the problem is."

.... No, you weren't a frog anymore

That didn't mean you were happy about being a frog in the first place.

You texted Simeon, 'Who's on lunch duty today?"

"Me. Why?"

"I'll make us bento. We can picnic, the exchange students, that is."

So you spent the next little bit making normal bento for the three of you.

"Simeon said we should probably leave in five minutes" you thanked Luke and started on Solomon's.

You made Shikaeshi bento; you cracked four eggs and aligned their yolks into a rather phallic shape, added way too much fish oil, and threw a few sesame seeds on top.

However, once you made it to the picnic grounds, Solomon opened his box and gasped.

"MC, you know me so well!" And proceeded to drink right out of the box, the rest of you looking on in horror.

"I thought you were mad at me and you were going to give me something disgusting like Mac and Cheese. I guess all is forgiven. Thank you!"

At that point you couldn't even stay mad, that was just disgusting.

Aye, I hope you liked it anon, not sure if this is quite what you meant but....yeah.

Love y'all!

Masterlist

[memento-morri-writes]

happy sts morri!

What is your writing process like?

Are you a planner or a pantser or a bit of both? If you do outline, how in depth are your plans? What is your drafting vs revision vs editing process? Do you have any writing tricks that you stand by?  Basically share anything you’d like about your process!

[@rodentwrites]

Hi Harrison!! Happy STS, but on a Sunday!

My writing process is a bit of a mess. I tend to write things when they interest me, rather than in chronological order. In fact, the first scene I ever wrote for ATQH was The Incident, which happens about halfway through the book! I have almost all of the 2nd half (basically everything after The Incident) planned out, but very little of the first half. Which is where I'm struggling, trying to figure out how to get to the second half.

I'm a little bit of both, a planner and a pantser, but mainly a planner. I like to have things well planned out before I write, but sometimes that winds up making me write myself into a corner, or feeling stuck. But usually I know who's in a scene, and the gist of what's happening at minimum before I start writing.

I tend to write a scene whenever I have the inspiration for it, which might be at any time. Literally, any time. I wrote the first two drafts of The Incident back-to-back between 3 and 5 am in early January. After I finish writing a scene once, I tend to set it aside for a little while. Then I'll go back and re-read it. If there's just small tweaks to make, I'll make them then, but if I still hate it, I'll take a blank document and start over. I might do that 3 or 4 times before I have a result I'm happy with. With some of the scenes from ATQH, I sent them to a friend to edit, and that was very helpful. I pasted the scenes into a google doc, and she made suggestions there. After that, I retyped the scenes, with the changes that I agreed with, or new ones I thought up after seeing her comments. By retyping, I still had the old versions, and I also had to think about it more, as I went line-by-line, rather than just copy + pasting and only worrying about the bits that she had suggested edits for. Sadly, I haven't talked to her since I got done with school, so idk that I'll be able to continue with that set-up. It was so very helpful, though, and she was a good editor.

The writing tip I swear by is: if a scene isn't working, rewrite it from memory. I mean it. Open a new doc, and start writing the scene from scratch. Your brain will remember the parts you liked, maybe even word for word, and put them back in, but gloss over the bad bits, and let you try again. This has made me SO much happier with my scenes than just trying to tweak what I already had. I think I wrote The Incident 4 times or so? And I love the final result.

Oh, also I have my planning and notes all done in Milanote, and do my actual writing in Scrivener. But none of that is necessary, at all!! I just tend to be over-organized and like making ridiculous layers of folders and stuff.

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[captastra]

Day Two

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Jill and Carlos

Prompt:  Word: cold | setting: coffeeshop AU

Words: 1.1k

Jill doesn’t always enjoy her time working as a barista, but she always enjoys seeing her favorite customer. Even if she won’t admit it. @writersmonth

“Sorry, please repeat that.”

The man let out an annoyed noise but repeated his order one more time for Jill to take down. Jill ignored his attitude as she leaned forward slightly to write down his order on his drink. Another few seconds and Jill finished with the customer, passing the drink to Claire before preparing to take the next order.

The noise from the crowd in the shop, mixed with the annoying pop music playing from the speakers, was starting to grate on Jill’s nerves. She had had a late night, but no matter how much she tried to, sleep evaded her. All she could hope for was for her own coffee to keep her going and her shift to be over quickly.

The morning crowd seemed to only be growing the past few months and it made her job that much harder. Her co-workers didn’t help either. No matter what time they were working, early morning or late at night, Claire and Leon always seemed to find a way to goof off. Whenever she did try to corral them back into working like normal people, they’d last about 10 seconds before they were back to making jokes.

“Ohhh your favorite customer is here.” Claire had appeared over Jill’s shoulder, shaking her shoulders teasingly. “Make sure to put on your best face.” She bumped hips with Jill, attempting to take over the drink that Jill had been working on.

"Claire," Jill yelled out in surprise, fumbling with the cup she was holding. Claire snatched the cup up with deft hands and brought them in front of her, not even glancing Jill's way as she worked.

“Be careful! I could have spilled that” Jill was tired and the last thing she needed was to make a mess during the morning rush.

Claire waved her hand at Jill and motioned towards the counter, "Don't worry about this, go help him out. It's the only time you are willing to talk to him anyways. Let me help you out."

Jill worked her jaw for a moment, trying to think of any sort of witty comeback she could say. But her already exhausted brain decided that was too much work and remained blank.

“You guys are the worst sometimes,” Jill muttered under her breath as she rubbed her temples. It didn't help that Leon came out from the stockroom right as she spoke.

“You know you love us,” Leon said cheerfully as he walked past her. “But what did we do this time?” He directed his question at Claire who motioned towards the door in response.

Jill ignored whatever they said next. She didn’t need their pointless chatter influencing her thoughts, especially right now. It was bad enough when he wasn’t here, but when he was? They were intolerable.

Taking a breath, she turned around to face the man on the other side of the counter. “Hey Carlos. Surviving the cold out there?

She took in his bundled form covered with a thick warm jacket. He wore a beanie on his head and a scarf around his neck that seemed to protect him from the cold. His face was flushed from being exposed to the elements.

He gave her a warm smile as he rubbed his hands together. "I think I'll live, but I might freeze out there if Mikhail has his way."

"Working you that hard still?" It annoyed her hearing how far his job pushed him but she figured it wasn't her place to say anything. They only started getting to know each other and she didn't want to ruin that by stepping on any boundaries.

"You worried about me?" He gave her a sly smile that almost made her blush. "Don't worry. I won't become a Carlos-cicle today. Wouldn't want to miss out on seeing my favorite barista tomorrow."

That set her heart racing. She took slow breaths to try and calm herself and scoffed at his attempts to flirt with her. " You’re always complaining about your job working you too hard, excuse me for showing concern. Sounds like you'll be fine. Your usual then to keep you warm out there?

He chuckled and said, “Not today. I’ll take a black coffee instead. That will keep me going for the rest of the day.”

“Same here,” she said,  bringing out her own black coffee and looking out at the crowd to emphasize her point. “It seems like everyone is trying to hide from the bad weather before heading off to work. Which leaves me to deal with their cranky behaviors.”

"From how I've seen you handle those cranky customers in the past, something tells me you'll be just fine." He was leaning on the counter at this point, a grin never leaving his face as he chatted with her.

"Uh, thanks." She didn't know what else to say beyond that, but as the fear of things turning awkward started to set in, Claire jumped in.

“One cup of coffee, hot and ready!” She had a big smile plastered on her face while she handed him her drink.

“There's my favorite barista!” Carlos called out. They made a big show of passing the drink off and thanking each other at the expense of Jill. Usually she would be annoyed but at this point she was too tired to care and rolled her eyes. It also didn't escape her that Carlos would glance at her every few seconds before looking back to Claire.

She smiled at their theatrics, but started to push Claire away as she said, "Alright you two, we're in public you know."

Carlos gave her an apologetic smile but Claire seemed to be trying to tell Jill something through her expression as she nudged Jill back.

“Guess you gotta work a little harder at being the favorite.” Claire finally said, deflating as she shook her head at Jill's apparent lack of ability to grasp what she was trying to convey.

“I don’t need to do anything but my job.” Jill responded, ignoring Claire's annoyance at whatever she had missed. She knew it had to do with Carlos but now wasn't the time. It was hard to be mad at Claire, no matter how much she teased her about Carlos. She just wished the teasing wouldn’t happen while Carlos was right in front of her.

“Which I should probably leave you ladies to do.” He looked behind him sheepishly. but appeared to relax when he saw that there was no line behind him. “Sorry to distract you. I’ll see you both later. Bye Leon!”

They all waved goodbye and watched as he headed out the door. Jill let out a wistful sight as the door shut behind him. No matter how much she dismissed and scoffed at Claire and Leon’s teasing, it was hard for her to deny the moments when she wished she had the nerve to act on her feelings. Feelings she was very good at pushing aside.

Tomorrow, she told herself. The same thing she had told herself every day since he had started coming into the coffee shop.

[estoniacobaltpayne]

A Life Day Story

So, I had an idea of a cute Din n Grogu thing, based off the movie A Christmas Story. It's in Grogu's POV.

I hope y'all like it lmao. Be kind, I haven't written fanfiction in like 6 years or more lmaooo

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

There it was.

The Holy Grail of all the parts and gadgets and gizmos on the ship.

The chrome-plated ball bearing from the landing gear with the engraved ridge around the center had single handedly consumed my every waking thought this Life Day season, and if I played my cards right, and deployed subtle tactics of persuasion, I knew it wouldn't be long before it was in my grasp.

As I sat in the cockpit contemplating the next move of my meticulous plan, loud grumbling from down below in the engine room could be heard through the vents. Thick puffs of black smoke weren't far behind.

Now, aside from bounty hunting, my father was the most notorious engine compressor wrangler in the parsec. A few kicks, screws, and well-timed curses was all it took to get the thing up and running again.

At least, that's what he claimed.

The woman watching me, a short tempered thing my father always addressed as Dune, scolded my 'subtle' attempt at securing the ball bearing (I made the mistake of pointing at it while looking at her, a rookie mistake). She grumbled out a curt, "no, that is not a toy, kid!"

Agh! No! What she had just said was every adult's secret deflection method against allowing me the toy! Their innate bias that what is functional can in no way be a toy came crashing down on me. I had blown my chance!

Dune watched the vent in horror as another stream of "dank farrik"'s and "damn this thing to hell"'s wafted through it. She quickly ushered me out of the cockpit and down the ladder to the hull in order to spare me the assault of words ill-intended for children.

She said it was time for me to head to the small Nevarro school, anyways.

As we walked the short distance, we met up with our usual walking partner. He was a young boy with dark hair who always had the best snacks packed for him by his mother. The first day I met the boy I stole his blue cookies.

Being locked away for so long kept me from learning the basics of speech and writing, so the only part of his name, Phixlana, that I was able to pronounce, was a short Phix; although it wasn't long before all my other classmates called him that as well.

In class, our teacher assigned us a writing prompt to be handed in the next day. Whoa boy. What a drag! Homework was tiresome and boring at the best of times, but my inability to write in any language made this assignment seem impossible to accomplish.

But wait! Did my large ears deceive me?

No. They did not!

The most glorious of prompts that would bring salvation to my plight!

"Write about what you would like most for Life Day!" proclaimed the droid.

This was my chance! I would use the force to wield the pen as my sword! It surely would do a fine enough job putting my prose to paper! It would be my scribe, and I was sure I would produce the most magnificent paragraph!

"All I want for Life Day is the chrome-plated ball bearing from the landing gear with the engraved ridge around the center! Oh! My! How marvelous!" the droid would read, expressing its satisfaction with a plethora of pluses on my A grade! The entire class would jump up and cheer, as the droid at the front would suddenly grow the ability to emote and dramatically express his overwhelmingly pleased feelings upon reading my assignment!

--

Oh! Oh no! This couldn't be! My dreams shattered as I opened up my tablet! What was supposed to be an A+++ on my beautifully thought out paragraph prompt, read as a measly C+. How excruciatingly agitating! I supposed I shouldn't tell my father. I'd spare him the disappoint I myself was currently enduring. And just below! How could I have not noticed before! The inscription of, "that is not a toy, kid!" at the bottom! This put a sour on my mood that lasted throughout the remaining duration of the day.

--

The gloomy cloud only let up slightly when dad took us out with Dune and the man of whom I did not know the name of, but fawned over me regardless whenever my father brought him another bounty. With all of us piled in the small speeder, we set off in search of the finest Life Day tree money could buy.

The trees the shady merchant showed us were dismal and pathetic at best, but my father was a world-class heckler, and never passed up an opportunity to bargain for his buck. After a moment of bickering with the merchant, my father let out a curt, "deal," after the salseman offered to knock back the price and load the large tree into the speeder.

All was well! Dune and who I had heard my dad proclaim as Karga sang tunes for me as my mandalorian father begrudenlingy drove the speeder back home.

Pop! Whap!

"Dank farrik!" drawled my dad. "Piston blew!" he exclaimed from the front seat of the speeder.

We climbed out and dad handed me a pan of bolts to hold as he replaced the piston. He worked quickly. Too quickly, apparently, because as he came back up to grab a bolt, his hand hit the pan, sending it flying straight into the icy blackness that was the busy road in front of us.

Time stood still as I watches the pieces fly out into the night, never to be seen again. Time stood still as I let out some of the only comprehensible words I knew.

"Dank ferret"!

Except I didn't say 'ferret'. I said the mother of all 'f' words. The 'F-----' word.

"What did you just say?" my father asked quietly; and might I add- far too calmly.

All I could do was stare wide-eyed at the mandalorian before me.

He only scuffed and concluded, "that's what I thought you said. Get back in the speeder."

I climbed back in. Whoa boy, was I done for. I was never getting that ball bearing now. It was only moments later that my dad hunched back into the small speeder. He leaned over to Karga and Dune and told them what I said. They both let out gasps of disbelief.

--

How I loved snacks. I loved eating, and the glorious taste of all the different foods the galaxy had to offer.

But right now, all I wanted was for my underdeveloped taste buds to shrivel up and die.

The bantha scrub Dune had in my mouth was disgusting. I wouldn't be surprised if it impaired me forever in some way.

Dune shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. "I'm going to ask you one more time, kid. Where did you hear that word?"

I had probably heard my dad use that word twelve times a day, every day that I had known him but instead of saying as such, I panicked. Blanked. All conscious thought had left my brain like it was a house on fire. Instead of the word 'dad,' I blurted out the only other name I knew how to say; "Phix!"

Dune left the room with an understanding "oh" and went to call the boy's mother on the holopad.

Poor, poor Phix.

Surely he was getting his punishment a few kilometers away.

--

Despite my slip up on the speeder a few nights ago, and the disappointing grade in school, Life Day still came, and how glorious it was! How beautiful the tall tree was, sparkling with lights and the scrap my father and I had collected from around the ship!

But most importantly, how beautiful the gifts under the tree were!

Before I could even pull one into my lap, my Mandalorian father tiredly sauntered down into the hull of the ship. I could feel the excitement rolling off of him through the force. I didn't need to see his face to know he was happy as he plopped a present in front of me.

Karga and Dune soon joined us in the festivities, the latter of whom quickly fell asleep on the floor after all the presents had been opened. Karga asked if I enjoyed the celebratory day, and if I had gotten all the presents I asked for. I groggily looked at my palms. I had gotten many a splendid gifts. But not everything I had asked for.

My father leaned forward and directed his head towards the corner of the room.

"Hey, what's that over there?"

I looked up at his helmet expectingly. Over where? To where was he gesturing?

"Yes, over there. Behind that crate."

I waddled off of his lap, and over to the crate. Alas! A small package wrapped in shiny red paper! It was the perfect size for-

No. Could it be?

I tore off the paper in awe to reveal a box. And oh! What a glorious sight the opened box was! What was resting inside? None other than the chrome-plated ball bearing from the landing gear with the engraved ridge around the center! It was mine! Finally mine!

I excitedly waddled to the door to go outside and play. My dad came to open it, but quickly stopped when he sighted the roasted, imported porgs Karga and Dune had brought over. Now, my father was a notorious porg junkie, and was sorely disappointed at Karga's loud scold for him to stop picking at the feast; that it wasn't ready yet.

As they bickered, I opened the door myself and ran outside to play. How glorious it felt to have that ball firmly in the palm of my small hands! I threw it as far as I could, and wielded the force to bring it back to me. I rolled it down the ramp many a times. Oh what fun! Until-

Oh no!

Just one small slip of fate! With the tiniest of accidents, the ball rolled over the edge of the ramp and fell into a crevice beneath one of the landing feet! I couldn't even see it to force it back into my hands!

I rushed inside to alert my father of the atrocity! But before we could go back out to reclaim the ball bearing, the unthinkable happened.

Rustling could be heard in the back of the hull; the scratching of nails against metal and loud chirps sounded as well. My father picked me up and rushed back to see what was going on. Dune had woken up, and she and Karga went with us to investigate the crime.

Oh no! The horror! A thousand and one meerkats scampered about the floor, breaking crates and most abysmally, eating the beautiful porgs set out for us to feast on. The three adults hearded the scoundrels out of the ship, but it was too late.

The porgs were gone. All gone! Not even a wing!

The heavenly aroma still hung in the air, mocking us. My father dragged himself over and defeatedly kicked at the remains of what was to be a magnificent Life Day feast. However my father, ever the pragmatist, lifted his arms and declared, "everybody up. Get dressed. We're going out to eat."

Not much was open on Life Day; just a small restaurant owned by a family from a planet far away. One that did not celebrate Life Day, something for which we were thankful.

What a turn of events! But one thing was for certain, as I fell asleep that night, clutching my chrome-plated ball bearing from the landing gear with the engraved ridge around the center, I knew it was the best Life Day I had ever had, and the best of all Life Days left to come.

[gisachi]

ShiRan kiss prompts #12

Hi...sorry for the long wait. ^^;; Burnout hitting me like crazy, but I want to deliver new content so here it is, and I hope this is okay! This went waaay above my word count limit but whatever. xD Also I realized only after I finished writing this that I kinda strayed away from the prompt so I’m sorry if this played out differently from what you’re expecting, Anon! 😬✌🏼

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss. (2,363 words)

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Something’s off about Shinichi lately.

Between them, Ran knows herself as the moodier one, so it comes as a surprise when she starts to notice Shinichi acting sourly around her in class. When something bugs him, he usually won’t hesitate to tell her right away, so the fact that he isn’t bringing this one up bothers her a little.

This moodiness has been going on for two weeks. And two weeks ago was the arrival of Sakuraba-kun, a transfer student from London.

Sakuraba-kun’s fairly attractive with his blonde hair and brown eyes, and can speak a little Japanese because his father is one. Girls from their class envy Ran for being assigned by their sensei to assist him with Japanese classes, Ran being his seatmate. So for the past two weeks, she’s often seen around him, making sure he gets his homework done, and Sakuraba-kun cracks jokes once in a while and Ran laughs. A fun lot this classmate is.

“Do you find him attractive?” Shinichi asked her once as they ate lunch.

“He has nice features,” Ran casually replied, not finding the need to add, ‘but he’s not my type’, so as not to thread into the topic of who her real type is, with him.

Sometimes, she sees from her peripherals how the guys in their class whisper something to Shinichi, only for them to snigger and his face to contort into a god-awful frown and curse them away, and then the rest of the day is just him sulking and staring out the window.

Sometimes, before she and Shinichi go up the rooftop for lunch, they bump into Sakuraba-kun and he stalls them for a few minutes, and Shinichi tries to get into the conversation but Sakuraba-kun brushes him off everytime, leaving him peculiarly quiet the remainder of lunch break.

Sometimes, Sakuraba-kun catches up with them on the school gate before starting their walk home, and he goes in between him and her as he walks with them for two blocks before they part ways. Consistently, Shinichi releases a ‘tch’ under his breath whenever Sakuraba-kun places his hands on Ran’s shoulders before bidding her - only her - goodbye.

One time, during their walk home to which Sakuraba-kun wasn’t invited, he openly asked Ran about her relationship with Shinichi, having noticed how they always walked home together. She blushed at the question, unable to meet Shinichi’s eyes as she stammered, “Uh, we-we’re—”

“She’s my best friend. And I’m hers. Anything wrong with that?” Shinichi butted in, face blank but voice dead serious as he walked ahead without looking at their direction.

When he noticed that the two weren’t walking along, he glanced back and saw an amused Sakuraba and a blushing Ran tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, something like that…” her eyes remained fixated to the ground, Shinichi’s ‘and I’m hers’ replaying in her ear like a broken record.

“Mm. So, just friends?” Sakuraba-kun’s eyes drifted between Ran and Shinichi. He beamed annoyingly and patted Shinichi’s shoulders for the first time.

“That’s nice to know, Kudou-san,” he simpered, winked and walked away.

In those two weeks, that’s the first time Ran heard Shinichi audibly grumble.

The rest of their walk was spent in silence.

.

.

The next day was even worse. First period hadn’t even begun and Shinichi’s already as quiet as a rock, which only happened when he’s deep in thought about something. Ran wanted to ask him why, but her attempts always got interrupted by Sakuraba-kun asking for her help in some homework he probably knew the answer to already.

Before she knew it, the day’s already over and as she packed her bag, Shinichi silently drew near her desk.

“Ran, can we talk?”

“Oh, Shinichi. About what?”

“Hey, Ran-san! Are you ready for tomorrow?” the London boy interfered, shouting to her from across the door, “I already asked mom to cook her signature meat pie and I’m sure you’ll love it!”

Flashing him a kind smile, Ran waved him goodbye. “Yes, I’ll see you then, Sakuraba-kun!”

He disappeared out the door, and Ran returned her attention to Shinichi, who witnessed their interaction and was now eyeing her questioningly.

“Sakuraba-kun invited me to his house for tomorrow’s tutoring session,” she began, before he could even ask.

“Okay,” Shinichi nodded his head, averting his gaze to the window. “Okay. I see.”

There was thick silence; she swore she could hear a needle drop.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, and Ran’s eyes widened.

“I, uh... I’m not sure, Shinichi.”

“Why?”

“Sakuraba-kun said to come alone, since his flat isn’t big enough for more than five people, given his parents and brother are there.”

Shinichi perked an eyebrow.

“That guy asked you to come alone?”

She nodded.

“And you agreed?”

“I...don’t find anything wrong with it?”

His nose wrinkled in distate.

“Ran. A transfer student we barely know is inviting you to his house, instructing you to come. Alone. Aren’t you getting a little too comfortable with this?”

He said that with a slightly raised voice, and Ran’s eyes narrowed into crinkled slits. What was he implying? Was he really going to get mad at this?

“What’s with that ridiculous mindset, Shinichi? Sakuraba-kun isn’t up to anything bad. I can confirm that because he showed Sonoko and I his flat last week and-”, she paused midway, biting her lip.

More silence, and she knew right then she wound him up when she saw his jaw visibly clench.

“You went there, and you didn’t tell me?”

“B-Because! You’re going to get upset again,” she gestured vaguely at him, “Like that.”

He threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, you think wrong. I’m feeling worse. The hell are you like that?”

“The hell am I...like…Excuse me?”

In that moment something in her snapped. Apart from his spiteful tone, he didn’t even seem to think through the ramifications of his words. She was just trying to be considerate. But the way she saw it, he’s making her feel like it was entirely her responsibility why he felt worse.

“I don’t get it Shinichi,” she clenched her fist, tight. “Why are you so upset with me when it comes to Sakuraba-kun?”

“What? Is it wrong to be worried for my best friend?” he answered with an equally frustrated voice.

“That’s a lie and your smart brain needs to think of a better reason!” Ran screeched, taking him aback.

“Even if he isn’t doing anything to me in school you’re still acting so bitterly and I don’t understand why! And it only happens with Sakuraba-kun! Just admit that you’re being immature hating on another who hasn’t done you wrong!”

“What?! I-”

She saw the strong urge in him to say something but deciding against it the last minute.

It wasn’t her intention to shout but she couldn’t help it. If only he wasn’t this overbearingly flippant. If only he was more careful with the words he said, and wasn’t saying. Isn’t saying.

She waited for him to speak but instead, he ruffled his hair, grabbed his satchel and walked away, not even giving her a second look.

“Forget it. Go if you want to.”

That day, Shinichi and Ran didn’t walk home together.

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The last bell rings and people start to dissipate. Shinichi refuses to talk to her the whole day, and Ran internally struggles as to whether she’ll talk to him first and apologize.

For what, though? She cannot even explain what happened yesterday. As far as she knows she didn’t do anything bad, maybe apart from being a little too harsh with her choice of words.

But it’s Shinichi who started it, she thinks. So she decides to hold on for a little longer, ignoring the little pang in her chest.

She really hates it when this happens.

Her phone pings to an email notification from Sakuraba-kun saying he’s waiting for her at the school gate. She blinks at it and closes her phone. At this point she isn’t even sure if she wants to go. But sensei has given her this job of tutoring him, and she must comply.

That makes her think. Sakuraba-kun is nice and all, but does tutoring him come with the obligation of teaching him whenever, wherever he pleases?

She sighs, pushes herself out of the chair, and stares at Shinichi’s back from two seats away. How she wishes Shinichi’s doing this with her so he can at least talk her through it.

...

But isn’t that what he tried to do yesterday?

“Are you still going?”

Without looking behind him, he addresses her, and she knows it’s for her because they’re the only ones left in the room. Instantly her mind snaps back to her irritation at him.

“Yes.” She replies, purposely hinting annoyance through her voice.

Shinichi exhales sharply, rolls his eyes and stares out the window.

Seeing that there’s no use arguing and Shinichi doesn’t seem to be in any mood to talk, Ran gets her satchel and walks out the classroom. Before she descends the stairs, she hears the sliding door open and his voice reaching out to her.

“Don’t go, damnit!”

Ran stops walking, half turning her head over her shoulder. “Why?”

“Don’t go there alone. Or at least. Study with him in a coffee shop or somewhere.”

“Shinichi.”

“Or just take me with you.”

“I’m asking you, Shinichi. Why?”

He doesn’t speak, letting the silence linger on, shallow footsteps of people echoing from afar.

“Do you like him?” he asks lowly, voice barely above a whisper.

“What? No! What’s with you, Shinichi?!” Ran scowls, this time turning around to face him.

“Have you ever thought that the reason he wants you alone is because he likes you?”

Ran’s lips shut tight, unable to reply. She won’t admit that that does cross her mind a few times, but she isn’t one to care so she sets it aside.

“Have you thought of the repercussions of being alone with a guy who likes you and wants you alone in his house?”

“He isn’t—”

“Have you ever thought that maybe the reason why I’m in a foul mood is because I don’t want that to happen?”

Ran would’ve been blushing if she isn’t so peeved.

“So it’s about what you want now? I’m not gonna go because that’s what Shinichi wants?”

“Then do you want to be alone with him in his room?”

“I’m just going to help him with his homework! You make it sound like I’m wanting to—”

“So you don’t, right?”

“Y-You’re giving me weird thoughts now! Baka Shinichi!”

He drags his feet to her, still not done talking.

“Then, have you ever thought that the reason why I’m in a foul mood is because you’re spending a lot more time with him than you are with me and god, I hate it?”

“B-But I need to because sensei asked m- Huh? Wh—”

“Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, about you, I-” breath short, he stops just before her, eyes never leaving hers. Ran’s face heats up, realizing how close he is now when a minute ago he’s just by the door of the classroom.

Gulping hard, she stands her ground, trying to look unfazed. She takes one step forward, meeting him eye to eye.

“Stop with the questions and answer me first, Shinichi!” she demands, voice laced with authority. “Why? Why do you not want me there? Why hate on him?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again, fists clenching and unclenching.

“And don’t tell me you have the right as my best friend to say all these because Sonoko is my best friend too and she doesn’t get mad when I’m with Sakuraba-kun!”

From the distance Ran sees two of their teachers talking to each other, walking to their direction. They don’t have much time. She doesn’t want their teachers asking them why they’re still around because she doesn’t know how she’ll explain this, and Sakuraba-kun is waiting for her outside.

“Answer me.”

She tries to sound commanding, but his silence exasperates her and she feels the corner of her eyes sting. Screw this. Once the teachers get nearer, she’ll just leave him like that and endure this petty fight for one more day.

“Just- whatever, Shinichi. I’ll-”

“Ugh. You want to know why?”

Not giving her time to reply, he grabs her wrist and pulls her behind the wall by the stairs, pinning her not so gently but not so forcefully either. Ran’s eyes widen, and shortly after uttering the first syllable of his name, she is stopped by his lips clashing with hers, muffling the rest of her sound.

His lips are firm and compelling, enough to paralyze her neck down. It lasts so quickly that Ran doesn’t even have time to close her eyes before he separates.

With eyes still closed and brows furrowed, he rests his forehead against hers and breathes heavily, cheeks as red as the setting sun spilling over their faces.

Her pulse starts to gallop a hundred miles per hour.

“Shi...n…”

“Don’t go.”

Hearing him say that again, more expressively this time, makes her forget how to breathe. And when she does attempt to breathe, he closes in again and captures her lips.

Though the press of his mouth remains commanding, there’s this certain softness in it that makes all the spite in her heart disappear. She suddenly forgets why they’re fighting, overpowered by her need to close her eyes and just...feel.

To feel his hand climb the crook of her neck, resting below her ear. To feel his grip soften around her wrist, holding her like a fragile glass he doesn’t want to break. To feel his chest against hers thunder from his raging heart, dancing in sync with her equally restless one. To feel his silky lips move against her dry ones, kissing her lovingly like he is hers, and she, his.

Has she been misunderstanding him all along?

He opens his eyes slowly, meeting hers. She loses herself at the waterfall of emotions gushing from his eyes, a mixture of affection and frustration and everything else in between.

“That’s why.”

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[thecraftyfoxthewriterscorner]

5 Tips for Developing a Daily Writing Habit

Last month, I set a couple of goals for myself (like most people tend to do at the start of a new year) that I want to achieve over the next year:

1) Write my first novel draft.

2) Write every day.

I can’t say much on my progress on the first goal – most days I feel like I’m splashing about in the deep end of a pool, treading water – but I can say that I’m writing every day. Some days I’m barely scratching a hundred words, and some days I’m blowing past a thousand. (I have yet to breach two thousand words, but I’m hoping to, soon.) There are a few habits I’m developing that’ve been helping me increase my productivity, and will hopefully help me keep this streak of writing every day.

If you’ve been struggling to figure out ways to develop your own daily writing habit, you may find these tips helpful. These tips are focused for fiction writing, but they can be adapted to nonfiction writing as well.

 1) Track your writing days on a calendar.

This is a simple, effective way to keep yourself on track for writing daily. It works best, for me at least, if you have a monthly calendar. It doesn’t matter if the calendar’s big or small, it just has to have all the days of the month visible. At the end of the day, if you’ve done any amount of writing, mark a “\” through that day’s square. The goal is to keep a string of slashes going for as long as possible. You can use stickers or other marks if you’d like.

I feel satisfied, proud even, when I’m able to make a slash through a day, and when I can see rows of slashes over the course of several weeks. It makes me feel like I’m working towards a goal. I haven’t yet set a goal for myself, but once I’ve settled more into the habit of writing daily, I’ll set my first goal to be the completion of my novel. You can set smaller goals if you’d like, and give yourself rewards, such as scheduling a day of binge-watching your favorite streaming service once you meet X-amount of writing days, or treating yourself to your favorite food.

2) Find the time of day you write best.

It’s possible to write at any time of the day, if you put your mind to it. But I do think there are times in the day when the writing comes easier, which is what I mean by this tip. For me, I find the words flow easier at night, in the time after dinner and well into the “burning the midnight oil” time of the night. (I’m a bit of a night-owl, which as other night-owls know, isn’t a lifestyle the rest of the world is kind to. But we make do.)

You can of course write whenever you like, wherever you like, however long or much you like. But it’s easier to come to the writing when you’ve established a time when the words seem to flow out of you, because you’ll be more eager to actually sit down and get those words out.

That’s my take on it, at least. Let me know how it works for you.

Tips 3-5 relate to and may overlap with one another, but I’m listing them as separate tips for reading ease.

3) Read the scene you last wrote before you go to bed.

I’m not saying that you’ll end up dreaming about the last scene you wrote, and wake up in the morning with the next section of dialogue, action, character development, etc. I have dreamt of characters from a story I was working on in a scene before, but I also had a starring role in that scene, which gave me a weird out-of-body experience because I knew I was dreaming about myself being in a dream–  

Anyways, digression aside, I can’t guarantee you’ll dream up anything that can be used in your writing. This activity helps in a more subtle way. Mainly, it helps keep your motivation and momentum to keep writing up. This is especially true if the scene you decided to sleep on is one you’re having difficulty writing. You’ll wake up the next morning refreshed and ready to tackle the scene that’s been giving you so much grief.

And while you may not figure out that problem-scene right from the get-go, you may have at least recharged the problem-solving and creative thinking part of your brain, and brainstormed a few possible directions the scene could go. That’s already a step further in the right direction than you were at the beginning of the day.

4) Think about what you’re writing. All the time.

Even when I’m not writing I’m writing. Or in other words, I’m thinking about what I’m writing. I don’t think I’m alone in doing this – daydreaming is a writer’s best friend. Targeted daydreaming that is, when you’re thinking of which direction to take a specific scene, which scenes you need to include to show one character’s development, how two characters might argue, and anything else you need to think about to keep your story moving forward.

The great part about this activity is that you don’t have to be sitting down at a desk, ready to type or write. You can take a walk, run errands, do chores or whatever else you need to do in your day, and think about your writing. Then, when you reach the point of your day when you have time to sit down and write, you’ll already have an idea of where you want your story to go, and you won’t have to stare at a blank screen and try to come up with something to write just for the sake of writing on the spot.

 5) Be open to inspiration.

Finally, don’t be afraid to find inspiration in other books or other forms of media. Finding inspiration doesn’t mean copy-pasting a scene, lines of dialogue, a character sketch, or anything else, from another book like or unlike yours, or from a TV show or a movie. But don’t be afraid to let yourself be influenced by these works, either.

If you’re stuck in your writing, finding these nuggets of inspiration of how this book or that show did a scene that’s similar to yours can show you different storytelling techniques you can use in your own writing.

I’d like to note that while a daily writing habit is good for discipline and productivity, it should never take over your life at the cost of your health and wellbeing. If you have other priorities and obligations – family, work, etc. – make sure you put those first. The writing will always be there, as long as you have the desire to write.

Feel free to try these tips out, and let me know how it goes! If you have some tips of your own you’d like to share, please do reblog this post and add on to this list.

Happy writing!

- Leah

[vague-and-aloof]

Jellicle Arts For Jellicle Cats Sneak Peek!

So, this next chapter is taking much longer than I thought it was going to, and honestly, I haven’t had the time or drive to write lately, but since you have been waiting for so long, I wanted to give you guys a little sneak peek of the next chapter. I do have more written, but I wanna leave some of it a surprise!

Enjoy!

———

“What's up, kit!” Tugger grinned as he came into the empty dance studio where Mistoffelees was sitting on the bench, having just finished two thirds of his warm ups and was just putting on his dance shoes before walking over to the barres.

Mistoffelees only glanced up for a second, tugged on his lips in a small smile before turning back to his shoes. “Hey Tugger.”

Tugger sat down beside him on the bench, throwing one leg over his knee and tossed his bag on the floor and started to dig around in it.

“Congratulations kit. You win a free water bottle!" He slammed a plastic water bottle down on the bench next to Mistoffelees with a wide grin on his face.

Mistoffelees looked down at the plastic bottle with narrowed eyes before looking over at Tugger questioningly, who just shrugged and dropped the wide grin.

“Eh, I paid for one bottle but the machine spat out two, so…”

“Oh, great.” Mistoffelees took the bottle and looked it over before putting it back down again. “Only I don't drink spring water."

Narrowing his eyebrows, Tugger tilted his head as he unscrewed his own bottle. “Why not?"

“There's fish in the water.” Mistoffelees said with a slightly disgusted face.

“So? We're cats, we eat fish!" Tugger argued, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

Mistoffelees threw him his most disgusted expression. “Fish pee.” And when Tugger just shrugged again, he just tilted his head slightly to the side and his face became entirely blank.

“You are drinking fish pee."

And suddenly Tugger's face went from confused to utterly disgusted and only barely held himself back from spraying the floor with water.

Mistoffelees snickered lowly as Tugger spat and gagged wiped his mouth and tongue with the back of his paw.

“Ugh, bleh! Gross!” He then turned to the small tuxedo cat with a disgusted glare on his face only to lose it when he saw the evil smirk on his face. “You are a seriously evil little cat, you know that?”

Mistoffelees laughed again and took the water bottle he had been given, opened it and took a sip. “Not my fault that you're gullible." He then walked over to the barres and started to stretch.

Tugger wanted to be more annoyed than he was, because this happened a bit too often for his liking. Whenever he hung out with Mistoffelees he almost always ended up looking stupid or falling for a trick or a prank. As it had turned out, for all his rich, proper and dry demeanor the cat was incredibly cheeky and all too eager to pull one over on him.

And succeeded a little too often.

But it was also one of the things that really drew him towards this little cat. He was cheeky, unafraid of knocking him down a peg and make him look stupid. He was also the only cat aside from Bombalurina who never rose to his bait.

Almost every other cat gave him some kind of reaction to his behavior. Whether it be swooning, annoyance or jealousy, he reveled in the attention he got from the other cats. Even Bombalurina got angry, frustrated or annoyed with him from time to time. But she was so used to it after years of being friends with him that she had become numb to it, rarely ever doing anything but rolling her eyes and giving a very half-hearted scolding.

But Mistoffelees never did. He simply rolled his eyes, shook his head and said nothing.

He didn’t get visibly annoyed, angry or frustrated with him like his brother, Bombalurina or the teachers did. And he certainly didn’t swoon over his advances or got flustered when Tugger gave him his attention.

If anything, Tugger has started becoming the one following Mistoffelees around, when it was always the other way around.

It was annoying and frustrating but also strangely attractive.

Mistoffelees started stretching at the barre, smirking to himself as he felt Tugger watching him move.

He had no idea why Tugger was so interested in him, why he kept hanging after him or why he was so fascinated by watching him dance, but he couldn't say that it didn't feel good that someone thought he was good.

Heaviside, listening to Tugger you would believe that Mistoffelees was the best thing since sliced tuna.

Which was quite a feat, considering that they didn't share that many classes.

Victoria told him that once you enroll in Jellicle Arts your classes would reflect your interests and talent. There were some mandatory classes of course, like acting, singing and dancing as well as the academic classes, but there were also a few classes that the teachers and principal placed you in or that you got to apply for- if you were sophomore or older. This was to make sure that your classes would reflect your talent and skill set.

Like, it wouldn't be fair to force the cats who've danced ballet since kittenhood to only do basic ballet just because they were freshmen.

Meaning that the students got to select a small handful of classes, which increased as they progressed through school. Freshmen only got to pick one or two, sophomores got to pick a few more and take away one class and so on and so on.

Munkustrap put most of his focus on acting, Demeter and Bombalurina were clearly singers and dancers and Mistoffelees shared classes with some of the most talented dancers he had ever seen, like Tumblebrutus, Pouncival and Plato, just to name a few.

This meant that Tugger was not in his dance classes- save for the mandatory classes- as his passion was playing music and singing. But Tugger had still made himself into Mistoffelees' biggest supporter. Even bigger than Victoria at times. Whenever they were in the same classes he was always there with his arm around his shoulders, ready to support, encourage and- in singing class- give advice to help him.

It was incredibly strange for him and Mistoffelees wasn't quite sure if he was annoyed at Tugger's constant talking and touching him or felt good about having someone in his corner who wasn't his sister.

While Tugger was a bit too extreme at times and made him want to retreat into his shell and at times he'd go into his default mode of being a bit cold and distant, hard to reach and barely emoted at all, there was something very genuine about him. For all of his posturing, flirting and his cavalier, laidback attitude, he was annoyingly good at making Mistoffelees laugh and smile, even if it was just a small snort and an eyeroll.

Yeah, he was the complete opposite of Mistoffelees, always talking, always getting close to others and not being afraid to do whatever dumb thing that entered his brain.

But dammit if there wasn't something annoyingly charming about him.

As he finished stretching he walked over to his bag, dug out his phone and plugged into the speaker system. But before he turned on his music, he turned to Tugger.

“So, any specific reason you knew to find me here? Should I be worried about you stalking me or something?” He made sure to keep his tone light and gave him a teasing smirk.

Tugger smirked back and leaned back against the wall, one leg thrown over the other and his tail thrown over his lap.

“Nah, I heard it from your sister. She told me you like to dance during free period. She said you like to practice new dances here.”

Mistoffelees smiled and nodded, rolling his shoulders a little, stretching his arms and making sure his loins and limbs were properly warmed up. “Yeah, these contemporary dance classes are killing me. But I hate not getting it right. Call me a perfectionist, but I don't settle for anything below the very best."

Tugger grinned and let out a very low snort. “Oh I wasn't aware that you could move beyond perfection, kit."

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes and picked up his phone again. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you diva.”

There’s more to come, I promise! But I hope you enjoy this little sneak peek!

@uppastthejelliclemoon @terpsichorian @whitmerule @statisticalcats @queerdonkey101 @tigertail94 @rainbowratsstuff @kineticjellyfish @storyweaverofgondor @dcjelliclequeen33 @soh-da-meatball

[rq-s]

Title: Falling Down 

Pairing: Xu Minghao / NB!Reader

Genre: Light Angst & Platonic OR Romantic

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: None. However, I do interpret the timeline and meaning of his lyrics loosely. I can’t and don’t claim that it’s the “correct” way to do so; he wrote it to be ambiguous for a wide audience to enjoy. Please watch the Falling Down Making Film for clarity.

Credits: ENG Translation of Falling Down 

Summary: You and Minghao have been consistent penpals since 2004, sharing each other’s cultures, languages, passions, and lives as you both grew up. 2014 came around and letter from him only came in 4 times, and only 1 in 2015. The last this you ever heard from him read he was a bird in a cage.

Notes: Italic = letter  ... = omitted letter content 

My Masterlist

Spring 2004

“How about this one, honey?” Mom handed me a postcard from a spot on the rack that I couldn’t reach. The large font caught my attention and told me it was a landscape picture of the closest national park. Though nothing in the picture was recognizable, it reminded me of camping, which made me smile despite having never been before.

“Sure.” Was all I said, and I followed her as she pushed our full shopping cart to the register and began chatting with the cashier.

Like usual, I quickly put the postcard on the conveyor belt along with the groceries. As soon as it was empty, I went to the bagging station and put the scanned and bagged items back into the cart. Making sure to the boxes and cartons together neatly like Tetris, careful not to squish the bread.

“What a diligent little kid you have!” The cashier spoke, her voice worn with age, but with a sense of joy that reminded me of a stereotypical grandmother.

“She always says I do it wrong.” Mom joked, smirking at me. She never did let go of my “If you want it done right, do it yourself.” attitude I had even as a kid.

 Mom finished paying, and we went put into the chilly morning air of the parking lot that was made even colder by the shadow of the supermarket. I once again moved the bags from the cart to the trunk and brought the cart to the nearest drop off spot while Mom started the car.

The ride home was mostly silent, save for the sound of the road beneath the wheels and the hum of the heater.

“Thanks for letting me do the penpal thing, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, but remember the deal; you get more chores to do. You’re 7 years old now, you can handle doing the dishes by yourself, right?” The tone of her voice was completely serious, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve been helping with the dishes for years, and I’ve learned from the best. I’ve got this!”

 When we got home, I scoured the bags for that postcard, and luckily it was only bent on one corner. I wrote down bit of info about that park - whatever Google told me, and set it aside. I grabbed the template application from my school binder and filled in the blanks. 

Hello! My name is _____________, I’m __ years old, and I am from ________! I am learning Mandarin, but I’m still a beginner. I hope to learn more about your culture and language as we exchange letters!

For now, I will tell you a bit about myself. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Along with this letter is a postcard and other information about where I am from!

I hope to hear from you soon!

Signed,

_____________

It was a pretty basic template that we had to copy from, and in retrospect, it was cringy as all heck, but it had to be formatted juuust right and follow the guidelines exactly, or the penpal program admin’s wouldn’t accept it.

From what I was told, someone from China who’d also applied and been approved would be paired with me, based on age and interests. Only this first letter was prewritten. Once we were paired up, the letters themselves and the mailing of them was up to me and my family. 

I was lucky I got a match at all, most of the kids in my class didn’t. I learned pretty quickly why: I was the only one who put “dancing” as an interest.  

Summer 2007

...

This was a frog I found at the lake! Mom got mad that I touched it, and when it jumped out of my hands and back into the water, it got mud all over us!! 

Later we had a barbecue and some other campers came buy, but their kids were teenagers and didn’t wanna play with me, so here is a picture of me pouting in the tent instead of having fun. 

...

This is the last one, when we finally got home from the long car ride. we all were sunburned really bad, but it looks like you can see freckles on my face because of it! 

Whenever either of us would go on trips, even just to the water park or to a festival, we’d take Polaroid pictures to send. Most the earlier pictures Minghao sent were of him at tournaments, then they turned into selfies from after dance practice. It wasn’t until they were in their teens that he began to take more artsy pictures, with the occasional selfie thrown in. He’d always put at least one polaroid in each envelope, and photography quickly became one of the many things he excelled at. 

Winter 2010

…

And I still can’t believe you were on TV!! Twice!!! All these letters… I can use them as blackmail someday when you’re a superstar! Muahah!!

I’m not nearly as good as you still, but Miss Lilly says my footwork has gotten a lot better! I wish you could teach me, but words don’t have the same effect as seeing it. I doubt I’d get it even if you tried to explain… and don’t even think about trying to teach me any martial arts, my brain will melt!!

…

My letters were always a bit longer than Minghao’s, and were full of run on sentences and unorganized thoughts. He was always clear and concise, yet sensitive. He always gave strong and encouraging advice on my Mandarin, but my English tips barely seemed to help him. I always cared more about getting to know him and telling my own stories than about practicing. Though, I don’t know what stories I had worth telling as a 13 year old. We contrasted each other a lot, and Mom said it made us a better fit for each other.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but we always wrote when we could and has a steady back and forth. Sometimes the envelopes were thick, with many pages, postcards, candies, cool leaves or rocks we’d found, songs we had been listening too; things we cared about and wanted to share. But sometimes they were thin, barely a page long, with hastily written characters and a sincere apology. Both made me smile the same just the same – both showed how much he cared.

 Spring 2012

Perhaps it was because we were the same age, and despite not meeting, had spent so much time together. He somehow always understood me, and never made jokes when I was opening up about the less fun sides of life. He went at his own pace, and it took quite some time, but he eventually felt comfortable doing the same.

…

I’ve worked so hard for this, I know I’m capable, but I’m genuinely terrified. But I’m excited, too. I feel so overwhelmed and I don’t feel like I can tell anyone, they’ll worry, or they’ll tell me I shouldn’t do it.

I want to try. I want to be on that stage and in that tournament and I want to come out having earned something.

…

 Fall 2012

 Congratulations!! Now I can brag that I know THE Xu Minghao who won 8th at a WORLD DANCE COMPETITION!!!! I knew you’d do great. Yeah, you were nervous, but your hard work showed through!

As soon as I read the news online, I was so happy. Eight is a good number, right? I think It suits you. Even when you're laying down, you have infinite potential! That’s you, Xu Minghao, Number 8, my best friend.

Come to think of it, it's been about 8 years since we met, hasn’t it? it must be some sort of prophecy!!! Haha I’m kidding, but seriously… That’s more than half our lives. We’ve spent knowing each other half of the time we’ve even been on this Earth!

I’m really glad I know you, Minghao. I’d be lonely without your letters, I think. I hope I make your days brighter, like you make mine. I hope we never forget about each other.

 It was rare for me to get so sentimental, but he needed someone to be his fan, and I wanted to be the best fan of Xu Minghao I could be. Not to say I was the first, like I would joke about doing, but because he deserves it. I knew it from the way he talked about training, that he’d make himself a star someday, no matter what.

Because of this, though, it was this letter and onward that we stopped doing the copies and corrections. I noticed myself missing his teasing marks on my papers, or the cheeky smiley faces he’d draw when I did well. We stopped sending trinkets and polaroids too, so each envelope felt a lot emptier.

 Spring 2013

I’m really going to Korea now… The flight is in a few days, I’ll send you another letter from the new address as soon as I get there, so please wait for it!

…

I had bad dreams back then, about how things would be different, slower and distant. His letters were a significant part of my life, and I was afraid to lose that. Yet I was surprised he was even allowed to keep sending me letters. Retrospectively thinking though, it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to write to his family.

Was I like family to him back then?

 Winter 2013

I’m sorry for not writing you back sooner. The company has been really busy with Seventeen TV starting. I’ve been practicing a lot, I barely have time to eat or sleep, let alone sit down and write. There’s barely anyone around who knows Mandarin, and I’m still just learning how to make sentences in Korean, and they call me Myungho… Those who I can talk to are all boys, but they’re my friends, and possible group members, so I shouldn’t mind.

I miss your handwriting. Sometimes I reread our old letters, and notice that we’ve changed so much. But I keep every memory, did you know that?

I always feel better quickly. When I think about being on a stage, having fans singing with us and cheering for me… It makes me so happy that I cry, sometimes. But then I can’t help but think, “Will it ever be me? Or will I just dream of being there, and someone else will get the chance?”

That’s usually when I find one of your letters. The one you sent on my birthday a couple months ago, that you sprayed with that citrus scent? It’s my favorite, I relax so much when I read it. It reminds me of home, somehow.

I’ll try to write more often, I’m sure you’ve been patiently waiting. Let’s exchange pictures again, it’s been a while, right? I just really miss you.

 Was he like family to me? No… I think, back then at least, it was something special for me.

Summer 2014

Hey! I haven't heard from you since April! I miss you a lot, but I know you must be really busy. I’ve been trying to watch the previous Seventeen TV episodes when I can, the other boys seem funny and nice. I hope they all take care of you, like you say Junhui has been.

I’m always wishing you sweet dreams, I worry about how you’ve been. I wish I’d have asked for your phone number or email or something before, but now that you’re so busy and under a big company… I just hope these letters and postcards reach you well.

…

Fall 2014

…

Also, they’ve been saying I’ll qualify to be on SeventeenTV soon. The others are hoping it’s a sign that we’ll get to debut soon. You’ll watch it, right?

Things are looking bright for me and my brothers here, but I can’t help but feel full of dread. I can’t pinpoint why. Junhui said it might be stage fright, but I don’t feel afraid.

I know they all support me, and I support them, but I feel like I might disappear, and not even you would remember me. I know its not true but it’s what I’m feeling.

…

Winter 2014

I SAW YOU!! I watched it as soon as it released, I didn’t understand what most of them were saying without English subtitles, but I could understand you, and I saw you! I’m so proud of you Minghao, you’re an official member of Seventeen!! You’ve been working so hard, I’m sure you’re exhausted. Please try and take time to rest and heal before debut, all of you need it!

…

Spring 2015

May 26th 2015. That is the day I debut. I know we haven't talked much, but I hope you’ll be there in spirit. Thinking about you cheering for me makes it easier to handle. I’ll fight for you, for me, for them, and for us. I’ll try, even though things feel like they’re ending.

I’m going to be busier than before. I’m not sure about the contract, but I’ll try to still get letters out. For now, have this. Thank you for everything.

A layer of grey I can't escape Walls built of fear are colored all over with red Who will listen to the sound from the bottom of my heart at the end of the world(/day) There's no one by my side Flee Flee

The world is collapsing, shattering, breaking I can't find love at all So why why why (Where will I ) fall, where Hidden by the dark clouds, helpless and pitiful Can't feel myself, light is lost Before the end of the world(/day), (I'm) yelling, sounds of pain But there's no one by my side Flee Flee

The world is collapsing, shattering, breaking After I disappear completely, (you) won't realize I once existed Why why why (Where will I ) fall, where Falling endlessly, falling in silence What did I ever do wrong

Missing someone you’ve never met is an entirely separate kind of heartbreak. I began to doubt every single thought and feeling I had, every single word I wrote, everything began to bleed between imagination, ideal, and reality. 

The Minghao I watched on the screen wasn’t the Minghao I knew, and I started to wonder if I ever truly knew him in the first place. I felt like a fool, and even then, I continued to be foolish. I wanted to believe I knew what he meant; that I understood him, but as the years went on, I got more and more lost.

They won awards, they went on variety shows, they released albums, they went on tours. They traveled, they worked, and they grew. I needed to believe I knew him, but Minghao and The8 are not the same. And as I grew to love The8, Minghao began to fade into the back of my mind. When I watched him try to express himself beyond his stage persona, each time I saw flashes of a beautiful bird locked in a rusted cage.

I always kept the letters.

They’re my private collection of memories between he and I. They were the only way I knew it was real. I could run my fingers over his handwriting, feel how he sometimes pressed too hard and left marks in the paper. I could see how the paper and ink warped when he accidentally got tears on it. I could look at his pictures from his childhood and know what he was thinking as he took it. 

I knew him.

Summer 2020

Hey, Minghao. It’s me, do you still remember my handwriting? Maybe it’s changed... No, I know it has, because I’ve changed as a person. It feels strange, I know what you’ve been up to, but you might’ve even forgotten my name. But I feel in my heart that you havn’t. Maybe thats wishful thinking.

Anyway, I’m so proud of you Minghao. You’re a superstar, just like you dream of being back when you first started dancing. You’ve become part of a family, and have so many fans cheering for you every single day. Congratulations!!

…

5 years. Does the smell of citrus still remind you of home? Of me? Maybe it just reminds you of the hard times you had back then. But I guess you’ve been reminiscing about that a lot lately?

I watched the video as soon as it came out, and I was shaking as soon as I heard your voice. That song isn’t a special piece of yourself that you shared with me anymore, but it’s part of your story for the whole world to see, and you told it so well.

...

I miss you.

It was finally time.

It was a fairly thick envelope, inside were many postcards of where I’ve been, quickly written notes as I reacted to songs and memorable moments, and full-length letters that never got sent.

It was so surreal to sit in front on him at this panel. He looks just like he did as a kid, but more refined, stronger inside and out. His aura intimidated me like I was seeing a skyscraper touch the clouds for the first time, and yet he maintained eye contact with me like I was a dandelion about to be blown away with the breeze.

“It’s me, Minghao.” The words barely drifted from my mouth, but they struck him like lightning as realization stealing his breath away. For a moment I saw his eyes twinkle, and the corners of this lips twitch.

A member of staff took the envelop away from him; he barely was able to read the label.

My time would be up soon.

His fingers intertwined with mine and he opens my photobook to his page with his free hand, looking down for only a moment to sign it.

The next Carat was nudging my shoulder already.

“Not yet.” I whispered both to them and to him with a squeeze of his hand. He did the same, like a beat of the heart, and then released. I watched his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he gave the next fan the same focus and care he gave me. 

I forced a smile on my face as I scooted over.

Did he truly realize it was me? Why could I feel his heart beating faster from the tips of his fingers? Did he want to contact me all this time, or had he chosen to stop and was scared to tell me? Did he miss me too?  

My smile was only fake for a moment, though.

I was meeting his second family for the first time, after all, I needed to make a good impression. After years of keeping up with the group, it should have been easier to feel comfortable, and to be happy like the others.

Yet my hands continued to shake, their faces blurred and the sounds around me went quiet. My senses went in and out of focus like waves reaching and leaving the shore.

The warmth and the texture of his hand stained mine, and as i stared down at it after going back to my seat in the crowd, it felt alien. His hands are same hands that have been writing my name on every envelope for so many years...

I felt like I was falling.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

I’m so beyond excited to see you writing X-Files again!!!! I loved the overheard prompt! Any chance you’ll get inspired for either 12, 46 or 18?

Thanks, Anon! I’m feeling particularly inspired by #12: “ We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town.”

In fourteen years, it’s a reflex Mulder’s never been able to curb: whenever he catches a glimpse of a woman with red hair, his heart stutters and his breath catches. It’s not her-- it’s never her-- but still, for a moment, there’s always that hope.

It’s no different in his favorite coffee shop this morning, the day after Christmas, when a tall, willowy redhead collects her order from the counter just as he joins the end of the line. There’s the requisite thump in his chest, the squeeze in his throat, before his brain registers that no, this woman is too tall. His involuntary motor functions resume their duties.

But... wait.

The woman at the counter turns, clutching a carrier of hot drinks, and the sight of her face sets Mulder’s heart racing again. He has less than a second to decide whether or not he wants her to spot him before it’s too late, she’s staring at him, her eyes popping wide with recognition, because of course she’d recognize him, wouldn’t she?

“Fox?” She more or less shouts it across the crowded coffee shop, and all heads turn to see who she’s yelling at. Mulder steps out of line, a smile breaking out over his face in spite of himself, borne on memories of serenading their designated drive on the way home from parties, of teasing shouts in the background of late-night phone calls, of feigned threats to tell her parents exactly what she’d caught him doing.

“Melissa?” Mulder weaves through the crowded tables towards Melissa as she sets her drink carrier down on the counter, freeing her arms up to hug him. “What are you doing here?” Last he’d heard, Melissa Scully had been off at some west coast liberal arts college, pursuing a double degree in Visual Arts and Women’s Studies almost entirely for the purpose of driving her father mad. The Scullys moved away years ago, so what’s she doing here now?

“It’s Christmas, Fox, or hadn’t you noticed?” Melissa looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “I’m visiting my family!”

The words take a moment to sink in. “Your... family?” Melissa nods. “You mean... they’re here again?”

“Dad finally retired in November,” Melissa tells him. “And they loved Arlington so much when he was stationed here that they decided this was where they wanted to live.” She anticipates Mulder’s next question almost before he has time to formulate it himself. “Yes, she’s living here, too, Fox.” 

Here. In Arlington. Dana Scully is in the same city as him. Of the other 170,000 people who call Arlington home, as of November, Dana Scully is one of them. 

“Conflicted” doesn’t even begin to describe the storm of emotions building in Mulder’s brain.

They’re blocking the line of people picking up their coffee, so Melissa, balancing her drink holder in one hand, takes Mulder’s arm and leads him through the coffee shop and out onto the sidewalk.

“Walk with me,” she invites, still holding his arm. “I drew the short straw this morning and had to go get everyone coffee.”

Mulder hesitates, feet planted firmly to the sidewalk. The idea of coming face-to-fact with the entire Scully clan after so much time.... the idea of seeing her again, with no time to prepare, no time to figure out what he wants to say....

He can’t.

“I don’t think I’m ready to see everyone, Melissa,” he cautions, but she just laughs, tugging harder on his arm.

“I’m not staying with my family,” she reassures him. “No way. That house is too crowded for me to deal with. I went over there yesterday, but I’m sleeping at Jaime Mulgrave’s house.” She pulls him along with her. “Walk me there, okay?”

They’ve gone an entire block before Mulder works up to courage to ask her. “How is she?” He swallows as the name sticks in his dry throat. “Dana?”

Melissa gives him an appraising look. “Dana? She’s... she’s good, Fox. She’s doing pretty well, all things considered.” 

Mulder frowns at her, startled. “What’s that mean?” he asks. “What’s happened?”

But Melissa shakes her head. “It’s not for me to tell. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t tell me anything?”

“She’d hate me telling you without her permission,” Melissa says. “You know how she is, Fox. How private she can be.”

“No, I don’t know,” says Mulder bitterly. “I haven’t known for a decade.” He shoves the anger aside. It’s unproductive. And then, before he has a chance to lose his nerve: “Do you think she’d agree to see me? Just to say hi? Catch up?”

Melissa chews on this before answering. “She might,” she concedes. “And she might not. I don’t think she ever really got over you not answering her letter, to be honest.”

“Her letter?” Mulder scours his memory, searching for an instance where Scully had written him and he hadn’t answered, but he comes up blank. His habit, even when he’d been with Phoebe (though she’d had no idea, of course), had been to memorize each of Scully’s letters as soon as they’d arrived, and then to immediately sit down to write back.

“From four years ago,” Melissa elaborates, and Mulder’s confusion deepens.

“Melissa,” he says carefully, “I haven’t heard from your sister since her senior year at college.”

Now it’s Melissa’s turn to be shocked. “You didn’t get the card she sent you when she finished med school?” Her eyes widen. “You promise? You never got it? You’re not just saying you didn’t because you feel bad for not answering?”

“Melissa, I promise you, if I’d gotten anything from your sister since senior year, I would have answered it. Even if my response wasn’t one she’d want to hear, I would have answered. She’s the one who quit taking my calls and answering my letters, not the other way around.” 

Melissa seems to stop paying attention as soon as she hears him promise. Her eyes, still wide, get a far-away look. “You never got it,” she says softly, almost to herself. Then, quite suddenly, her expression clears, and she smiles broadly at him. “Yes, I think Dana will agree to see you. Give me your number and I’ll pass it on.”