#i love how there is an added layer of tension now but it is... natural?? awkward but not in a bad way but in a...

[roominthecastle]

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD: “when i look into your eyes, i know it's real.”

★ which romantic tropes will you and your fp embody?

DISCLAIMER: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates leave what doesn’t. this was such a cute idea – thanks for requesting this anon. 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

— PILE ONE.

tropes → star-crossed lovers, forbidden love & opposites attract.

there’s a distinct polarity in you and your fp’s personalities & backgrounds, pile 1. you’re more reserved, cautious and patient and they’re more free-spirited and spontaneous. they say whatever they want and deal with the consequences later; this isn’t in a bad way either, i’m more so picking up that they like to stand up and fight for what’s right. they could be an activist of some sort. they’re confident and brave, and you’re really going to admire that. as far as finances go, this person has MONEY, like big money! they either come from money or they are in a profession that pays extremely well and that’s where i see the forbidden love trope coming in to play.

remember how allie in ‘the notebook’ comes from a wealthy, privileged background, while noah is portrayed as more working-class? the contrast in their backgrounds and personalities added depth to their relationship and created a lot of tension and conflict, but ultimately it made their love story more compelling and dynamic – that’s what i see here with you and your fp. you’re tired of over-working yourself for low pay and working jobs that don’t fulfill you financially, mentally and emotionally. you feel stuck…wondering when things are going to change. i see someone looking out of a window in a house, there’s a strong sense of longing and their eyes look sad. they’re waiting for someone or something to arrive, but when? you’ve been telling yourself to keep going and keep pushing through, and then you will see progress and reward in the long run – very saturn/saturnian energy.

it’s interesting because you’re looking for a way out of your situation and your person is looking for an adventure. your fp is very comfortable financially, but they’re lacking in their love life. right now they’re very much single and they’re fine with that, but that fiery energy that burns inside them can’t be dimmed for long. when they cross paths with you they’re gonna be awestruck like “whoa! who is that?” lol. your fp might have some sagittarius/fire sign placements, or they just carry themselves very pompous and matter-of-fact, which might throw you off at first. that’s why i was also picking up on that opposites attract trope because princess belle & the beast from ‘beauty and the beast’ immediately came to mind. belle loved her books and independence, which was a stark contrast with the beast’s initial gruff and hot-tempered nature. you might think they’re a bit arrogant at first, but once you get to know them you’ll understand that there’s layers to them.

their family plays a big part in their life, which ties into the forbidden love trope because i’m ngl their family lowkey can be a lot to handle. as i said before, some of your fps come from money so some of their families might be a little snooty and strict like allie’s mom from ‘the notebook’ but i think with patience and time – you and your fp will learn to not give a f*ck what their family or anybody else thinks. this relationship is destined and you’re meant to show each other the different aspects/complexities of life and love. the energy is very reminiscent of mr. darcy and elizabeth from ‘pride and prejudice’ like remember how much longing and yearning it took for them to finally be together?! it was sooooooo worth it.

additional messages → wealthy, 2 years from now, ego, aries, very lowkey, the blackest day by lana del rey & cultural differences.

— PILE TWO.

tropes → second chance & age gap.

your fp is dominant af, pile 2. they possess everything within reach, and they’re admired by many. you may establish boundaries with them from the very beginning and they will respect that, they value you and wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you. however, despite the love, passion, and devotion that will be present in this relationship, there will also be a need for compromise. it seems that this relationship will fulfill your hopes and dreams, but it will also come with its share of responsibilities. in the early stages, both you and your fp will feel a strong urge to make your relationship official and commit to each other. whatever you need or want – they will provide for you. you may not have expected to fall for them, but you couldn’t fight the obvious chemistry between you two. i picked up on the age gap trope mainly because they have provider energy. for some of you, they might already have a kid/kids? your energy feels a little bit more flighty and young. you like to be in your own personal space most of the time, and not everyone understands that, but your fp will.

actually, i think the idea of compromise i was picking up on earlier has to do with your personal space. you might be a bit of an introvert and the idea of constantly entertaining someone 24/7 and not having a moment for yourself is a bit jarring to you. now i’m not saying this person is taking your autonomy away, what i’m saying is that there has to be some sort of balance with the give and take in this connection. it’s reminding me of olivia pope and fitz from ‘scandal’ like one minute he’s showing her the house he had built for them in vermont and then the next scene she’s crying that she needs space and they can’t be together – like OLIVIA what’s it gonna be?! it’s like your heart is saying yes but your mind is saying no.

you’re gonna have to use your discernment and figure out if this is what you want – true commitment. it’s gonna take trust and dedication to make this work, pile 2. it might get to a point where y’all take a break and you choose to see someone else, and then you realize how much of a greater difference your fp makes in your life. they’re your home. that's the second chance trope coming into play. wow, pile 2. this is a very dynamic and complex relationship, but that’s what keeps you two going and loving each other through thick and thin.

additional messages → infrunami by steve lacy, you will meet through friends, extremely dedicated, workaholic, ass kisser, there’s someone in your inner circle you need to cut off, moving abroad, younger sibling & love drought by beyoncé.

— PILE THREE.

tropes → high school sweethearts & enemies to lovers.

your fp is the life of the party, pile 3…sometimes to a fault lol. they’re capable of being responsible and making good decisions, but sometimes they just say f*ck it and wild out. they can be impulsive and unpredictable at times which is quite the opposite from you. i’m picturing haley and nathan from ‘one tree hill’ and kat and patrick from ‘10 things i hate about you’ AND no by meghan trainer just randomly started playing in my head. i’m honestly so amused by this energy cause you’re like “nope! you’re not gonna fuck my life up.” being all dramatic 🤭 and they’re like “what?! me? i would never!” lol there’s gonna be a lot of witty banter between you both. your friends are gonna encourage you to just give them a chance, cause it’s obvious that you do like them — you just can’t stand how “friendly” they are.

your fp is extroverted as hell and loves a good social outing, whereas you on the other hand, rather curl up in bed with a good book or binge-watch your favorite shows/movies in the comfort of your own home. there’s this energy of “been there, done that.” the party scene just isn’t it for you anymore, and you’re content with that. this connection will really help your fp mature and get more in tune with their emotions, instead of masking them behind reckless behavior and nonchalance. that high school sweethearts trope really comes through strongly, not in the sense that y’all are actually in high school, but that nathan & haley vibe – that puppy love! once y’all are together, nobody can tell y’all shit. you and your fp will RIDE for each other.

nathan and haley definitely had their ups and downs, but they always found a way to make it work once they put their egos aside. haley brought out a side of nathan that nobody else got to experience but her. sometimes butting heads is necessary, it helps you confront things within yourself that you don’t always want to acknowledge. you’re so nurturing pile 3, you bring water to their fire. i don’t see you immediately jumping into this relationship, but that’s the beauty of it. that’s where the enemies to lovers trope kicks in, you’ll have to warm up to them first before you truly understand who they are at the core. your fp is used to fast-pace, hot n’ heavy, fleeting relationships but this is stable. this is pure. they’ll realize you can’t rush true love like this, it’s the journey and build-up that makes it so magical.

additional messages → 1st house placements, sagittarius, very soon, get out of your head, nice and slow by usher & family feud.

— PILE FOUR.

tropes → friends to lovers & forced proximity.

your fp has very high-energy, pile 4. i feel out of breath like i just got done doing 8 different tasks at once lol they might be very athletic or they just like to keep themselves busy. you and your fp are opposites, but the more you get to know each other, you will begin to realize that you have a lot in common – i’m hearing that you two will have a lot to talk about. sometimes you might find yourself holding back from saying things that you want to say in fear of judgement but with this person that anxiety goes out the window. they want to hear your thoughts and ideas, because they truly value your wisdom and knowledge on certain topics that they might not have been aware of. i’m hearing that they want to know your lore lol this is too cute. maybe you’re really into movies? marvel? fashion? idk there’s something very specific that you could go on and on about for hours and hours.

that’s why i picked up on that friends to lovers trope because i feel like they will show immediate interest in you and want to pursue something more, but you’ll be like WOAH hold it there…let’s build on this and see where it can go, no rush. i’m ngl pile 4 they might have a bit of a reputation or vibe of being a player…which will make you hesitant as to whether or not you want to take this seriously. i don’t even think you two normally run in the same circles – this is more like a chance meeting. yup here goes that forced proximity trope, you’ll probably meet them in some sort of unconventional way and be “forced” to spend time together.

you and your fp kind of remind me of holly and eric from ‘life as we know it’ which is a very underrated but amazing rom-com. i don’t think you’ll initially hate them per se, you’ll just be a bit cautious of them and wonder if they’re actually being genuine. however, by spending time with your fp, you will develop a deeper understanding and appreciation for them; which will then lead to you falling for them and establishing a close bond. you two might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and then after a proper conversation with them you’ll be like: huh…you’re not so bad after all. there’s this flirty energy that comes in the form of sly/sarcastic remarks, and you’ll come to realize that it’s their own way of saying “i really like you.” it’s giving 2000s rom-com lol hot n cold by katy perry just came to mind.

the sexual tension between you two will be palpable, your friends will be like just f*ck already!!! this relationship will have it’s fair share of ups and downs, but that’s what will make it worth fighting for; nothing and no one is perfect and you will learn that in this relationship. no one could ever compare to you in your fp’s eyes – they will always have love for you even in the moments where you two don’t see eye to eye. the difference in you and your fp’s personalities will be what draws you two together even more.

additional messages → jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo, lots of traveling, you manifested this, different lifestyles but we’ll make it work, your angel guides got your back & when one door closes, another one opens.

[lestappenforever]

Heyyy! I just wanted to first say I love your page it is absolutely a happy place for me tbh and I love the interactions you post. That being said, body language anon caught my attention in their last ask when they spoke about lestappen’s passion for the sport and f1 as an institution and would like to add some thoughts from a social-psychological pov.

I have also been thinking a lot about why lestappen stands out to many of us and why and how we got here and I think body language anon gets it right about how rather than big loud moments it is the smaller things that is so engrossing about their interactions. An account on tik tok (i have tried but can’t find it now) posted about how lestappen is “female gaze coded” precisely because of the little details (the boots, waits grab, shared history that is actually fanfiction worthy material). It is the purity and the meaningfulness of their interactions that make them so special rather than having two guys who are very obviously overzealous in their interactions (which has its appeals but clearly not to us- we like the angst and enemies to lovers trope too much for that)

Now from a socio-psychological standpoint I really want to take shipper goggles off for a moment and look at their relationship in their specific environment and the importance of homosociality. Homosociality is a theory that refers to the relations of same sex individuals in a society or given institution that sets them apart from the other sex- and other instituons/groups. And added layer that is slipping into Freudian territory-though I’m cautious- is that there is a latent homoerotic nature in same sex interactions- especially with men. This is not necessarily in a sexual way but more in a mutually reinforcing emotional way. Men in a give institution will seek the reinforcement of other men in their group and that is the crux of masculine homosociality and masculine relations- being self-reinforcing via socialisation with other men you hold in high regard due to their gender and their standing in the institution/group.

F1 as a male dominated institution and full of such reinforcing masculine interactions (driver-driver/TP/mechanics/fans (which is also why men find it hard to digest that women like F1 because they consider it an invasion of their sphere)) within this little system max and Charles have carved out special roles for one another where they seem to both especially seek out reinforcement from the other precisely because of that special shared passion for the sport and most likely because they both consider themselves above the rest of the men in the institution but equal and the same to one another which is why they seek each others reinforcement which can be literally anything that conveys approval (active listening, mirroring/mimicking, referencing shared history, accepting/initiating touch, laughing at jokes). There are some videos especially of Max in post race interviews where he looks almost jealous of Charles talking to another driver-and giving another driver the approval that belongs to Max. It becomes childish at that point with Max likely acting in a way that indicates his want to re-establish his special position with Charles- this may be by making jokes, eye contact or anything else which would result in instant approval. I can go into neuroscientific reward processes associated with seeking approval being equivalent to a drug and the best way to describe it is that if one of them shows any approval to the other it hits literally like neurotropic crack precisely because of the nature of their institutions and the special position of the other relative to themselves within that institution.

Which is also why I think that no matter how many times they interact publicly or privately they won’t ever have a relationship like Max and Daniel or Charles and Carlos where it is openly friendly and there is no slight tension (expressed by childish giddiness- like body language anon says with fidgeting and leg bouncing) caused by the fact that they have a long history that has carved out a specific place for the other driver as the approval-giver and becoming close friends would alter that dynamic to an un-acceptable degree. They will most likely alway remain flighty around each other, afraid of overstepping and messing up.

Anyway I’m sorry if this is messy this just popped into my head and I wanted to write it down.

Happy race weekend 🤍✨

Hello, my lovely anon! I'm going to refer to you as my beloved social-psychological anon, if that's alright with you.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. I'm so happy you're enjoying my blog, and that it's a happy place for you. That brings me so much joy to know. 💕

And babe, this anon has given me a beautiful start to my day. I've loved every single part of this ask, but this part right here is my personal favorite:

"There are some videos especially of Max in post race interviews where he looks almost jealous of Charles talking to another driver-and giving another driver the approval that belongs to Max. It becomes childish at that point with Max likely acting in a way that indicates his want to re-establish his special position with Charles- this may be by making jokes, eye contact or anything else which would result in instant approval." <<< Because this is the most spot-on thing I have ever read.

This social-psychologial insight into their relationship has truly added a whole other layer to Lestappen for me, and I don't think I could even begin to express to you how much I appreciate this. You and my body language anon are truly a beautiful combination, and I hope that you, like my body language anon, will return as often as you feel comfortable because it's such a wonderful treat to be able to read your insights.

Thank you so, so much for this, social-psychological anon. I love you.❤️

[sailforvalinor]

You know, I’ve said for a really long time that I dislike enemies-to-lovers, but I’ve realized this isn’t actually the case—I just dislike badly executed enemies-to-lovers. And, because this is possibly the most popular romance trope in YA (and most other literature, if we’re being honest), we’re seeing a lot of bad enemies-to-lovers right now.

I think what really irritates me about it most of the time is that authors want the "enemies-to-lovers" dynamic but don't really want to put in the work involved to make it convincing. Characters have to have some reason to hate each other to this degree, have to have some foundation for their relationship to stand on, but sometimes authors just want to skip to the witty banter in the ballroom or the intense rapier duel on the roof with underlying romantic tension without justifying to me why all this drama is happening in the first place.

Also, a lot of authors, especially in the YA fantasy genre, seem to default to "we are on opposite sides of a political conflict" or "you said something rude to me the first day we met" as a format to copy-and-paste their protagonists into and then leave it at that. And to be clear, there isn't anything wrong with these formats--plenty of good stories exist with these used as their basic structure! But it becomes a problem when you plug in a trope like this and assume it will do all the heavy lifting for you. It can easily come across as boring or lazy writing, just like with any poorly-employed cliche or trope.

However, cliches and tropes are not bad! The reason that an idea becomes a cliche or a trope is because it is so generally well-liked that authors are motivated to use it over and over again. These ideas naturally become cliches when they are used so much that the audience gets worn out on them, or it is used as a shortcut by less experienced authors to hide poor writing. But this does not mean you have to avoid any and all cliches at all times. One of the best skills to build as a writer is recognizing when you are using a cliche, and how you can best work that cliche to your advantage—giving the cliche a fun twist, adding layers and details (and-then-isms), subverting the cliche entirely, or just committing to the bit and writing the cliche straight as best as you possibly can.

All of this to say, here are a few variants, subversions, and fun employments of the enemies-to-lovers trope that I just personally think work really well:

Both people strongly and vocally dislike each other, but there deliberately doesn’t seem to be any logical reason as to why, at least to the audience—and it doesn’t really matter (Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing. Also I realize that there is a line that suggests that they may have possibly been engaged at some point before the play, but I would argue that since we never find out why they fell out, and this is never brought up as a major plot point, it doesn’t really matter.)

Person A is a part of a group or regime that actively harmed Person B or someone close to them, but Person A was not actually directly involved—however, Person B still holds Person A responsible (Zutara, I still think Kataang is superior, but I won’t deny that this ship works. This one can be a bit cringy if played up too much or if it goes on for too long, but it works as a short-term stint)

Both people make snap judgements on the other’s character upon their first meeting—judgements that are incorrect—and go on to wrongly villainize each other’s character (Lizzie and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, of course)

Person A did some grievous wrong to Person B in a past life, but one or neither of them remembers until they’re already in love (Reaper and Sunny from Goblin, I realize this is a little specific but my gosh does it slap and people should do it more often)

Similarly, Person A and Person B communicate via indirect means under aliases (i.e. letters, emails, chat rooms) and are falling in love, but hate each other in real life (You’ve Got Mail/She Loves Me)

Person A is sent to assassinate or otherwise harm Person B by the organization that they work for, but when Person B kills them with kindness it makes them spiral into a huge identity crisis (Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade from Star Wars Legends. I really need to do a complete breakdown of this ship sometime because it goes so much deeper than this, but there is way too much to talk about with them on this post—suffice it to say that they are very underrated and absolutely fantastic)

Classic enemies-to-lovers except it’s only one-sided—Person A hates Person B but Person B is absolutely clueless. I can’t think of a good example of this right now but I know I love it when I see it

Neither of them really actively dislikes each other, but they’ve gained such a reputation for their bickering that to admit that they might like each other would be too embarrassing and a blow to their public image (again, can’t think of an example but I know I’ve seen it done...I guess the latter half of Much Ado counts)

Classic enemies-to-lovers but instead of transitioning directly to lovers they become friends, leading into a enemies-to-friends-to-lovers pipeline—the best of both worlds! (Again, Luke and Mara. Also dare I say Raven and Beast Boy in Teen Titans kinda-sorta?)

[booasaur]

i feel like them kissing was pretty quick although we don’t know how long they had been living together. i lowkey didn’t want a kiss this season for slow burn purposes but knowing netflix i’m glad they did it now in case of a cancellation

And another anon:

No spoilers but I don't want to influence your thoughts so only read further if you have seen all of Warrior Nun s02. I felt it was a bit rushed? I know it is probably because there are only 8 episodes and a lot needed to happen but it is just constant from one thing to the next and they don’t really talk about what happened? Especially Ava and Beatrice. In s01, the build-up of their relationship was so good but in s02 it felt disappointing to me. It felt like they spent more arguing than talkin

I'm surprised, I didn't think the kiss was rushed at all!

They've been in this extremely high stakes situation for so long, they've had the forced closeness of an undercover team, only able to rely on and talk to each other, and they both have reasons to fall so quickly and hard: Bea was the first person who knew everything about Ava and was still kind and welcoming to her and as we discussed last season, while Bea had a lot more people around her, she wasn't letting anyone close until Ava just was.

In their own ways each has been so sheltered from a more "normal" life and has now found a kindred spirit who they're experiencing everything with. If anything, a kiss might have happened a lot earlier, if this wasn't bound to a seasonal narrative structure with the climax at the end.

You're brave, first anon! Two seasons seems already quite a lot for this concept but even if it had been confirmed for a third, I think I would have still wanted it in this one. But leaving off the ILYs for later, perhaps.

Second anon, I'm again shocked! I felt so pleased that we'd gotten the first two and a half eps of them together and seeing just how close they were, how close they've been for months, and tbh, I love a good argument as long as it develops their characters and dynamic and gets resolved, and I thought they did here. I especially thought they indicated the underlying tension that had been creeping into their relationship because of the feelings adding this extra layer of guilt, jealousy, insecurity. Not even in an unhealthy way, they're the most wholesome cookies around, but in a human, natural way, because sometimes things are just messy until you can find a way to resolve them, and they did!

[nocturnalazure]

Lengthy explanatory note

I hope the whole scene somehow conveys the idea that it was, both for Laurie and Erik but also for myself, a very slow burn that had gradually become unbearable. I've hesitated for a long time to have them cross that line. I liked keeping it blurry, I thought ambiguity added a layer to their relationship, which was already special to begin with. It is not so much a matter of sexual orientation. They cannot really define their relationship because ‘friends’ doesn’t cover it and sounds odd to both of them. So... more than friendship and ambiguous? What could it be?

Before characters become a couple in the story, I usually check on their chemistry by testing out some romantic interactions with them. With Laurie and Erik, my computer almost caught fire. Repeatedly.

I hesitated until the very last moment, because it was really not part of the plan, and just supposed to be a fun AU. And then it was never the right moment. Honestly there never would have been a right moment. When it finally came to the point where we’re at, I knew I just had to go all the way. There had been so much tension in their interactions lately, it was begging to be released. And it was, in a pretty intense way.

This was by far the steamiest, most hardcore and longest sex scene I've ever written. And I haven't even included all the shots. Guess that’s what happens when there is a lot of accumulated frustration.

I could have actually posted it on Tumblr: the drafts I’d prepared had not been flagged, probably because Laurie keeps his shirt on the whole time and the panels do not show any sensitive parts of the anatomy. But it’s still very graphic and you know... I’d rather give you the choice.

I usually correct a couple of things here and there, but for this whole update... I edited 28 pages, changing one word or a sentence at the last moment.

As for what comes next between them... As Laurie said, it’s pretty much a dead-end. In the unforgiving underworld that they live in and in their respective positions, it’s not like they can become a couple and be happy forever after. There’s a legacy to take care of, and it’s been hard enough for them to get there without adding emotional complications. So yeah, the aftermath will be awkward. Laurie has by nature a lot of self-control and is used to hide his real feelings. But Erik has always been the needy one, looking for physical contact. When he said he always fell for people out of his league, that had applied to Delia (who is older than him), applies now to Gloria... and also to Laurie. He’s bound to have a harder time coping with it. But then again, he has promised Laurie that he wouldn’t tell a soul and just pretend, and a promise made to Laurie is absolute to him. So... we'll see how he fares.

I don’t know yet where this will take them but my hope (and Laurie’s) is that, with that sexual tension gone, they can sort of move on and get involved with other people. I love them together, mind you. But I also love conflict and impossibly complicated love stories. ;)

One last thing I’d like to draw your attention on is that Erik has called Laurie 'Lau' several times towards the end of the update. :) That is intentional, and I know it’s, like, the diminutive of what is already a diminutive, and it probably sounds weird to English native speakers, but I don't care because I absolutely love the way it sounds! :D It's such a sweet way of having some degree of intimacy without being too obvious.

Anyways.

THE LAURIK SHIP IS IN FULL SAIL!!!

I’m warning you... Now that it’s out in the open, I won’t be able to shut up about it.

[ramonadecember]

For Mr. Feral Boy Fae 👀🔪

8, 11, 12, 20, 38

oc questions.

alright back at it with the questions. my elfy disaster, my Faenrir.

--

8. Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

Oh he sure does, haha. There’s no one specific thing, in general Fae just likes to collect. He loves exploring tombs despite how much draugr skeeve him out because there’s always cool stuff to loot, be it weapons, books, artifacts… you name it. It’s why him and Fralia in Whiterun get on so well, cause he too has a penchant for trinkets, odds and ends lmao. Faenrir loves all things shiny and no coin, jewel, or jewelry is safe from him (and that is NOT limited to snatching those things from tombs, watch your belongings carefully). His ‘collecting’ has only gotten worse since obtaining a house. He convinced himself to put down roots and buy property and so now he has all this space he needs to fill with pretty things (cue signing from Lydia/Stenvar/whoever Fae is traveling with at the time as he stuffs even MORE into his pack (or worse, their pack) on their latest adventure).

11. Do they have any addictions?

Okay so I’m not for certain that this is ~Fae Canon~ lol, but I have considered one potential. Faenrir goes through a uhhh, real rough patch for an extended amount of time. He’s abandoned the first person he loved honestly because being that serious freaked him out and he didn’t want to get said person mixed up in his complicated/dangerous bs, he’s wound up in a few situations that have made him feel like he’s really incompetent at defending/unable to defend himself, and then on top of everything, he gets wrapped up in a complicated assassination plot that ends with him being stabbed in the back and many people he’s grown to see as family dead, so he’s just kind of… over all things Skyrim and looking to escape for a while. And while he physically does that, disappearing off the map to lay low in Solsteim for a while, there’s also a way to do that less literally… Fae sure has found and claimed to dispose of a lot of skooma since the first time he came upon it…

Besides that and 100% Fae Canon, he’s just addicted to sweets lmao. He will share everything else because love is stored in the shared food, but not his pastries.

12. Do they have any sense of style? Regardless of the answer do they believe they have a sense of style?

Faenrir thinks he looks good, regardless of what he wears haha. He’s used to the lightweight clothing mixed in with bits of leather armor that he’d wear in Valenwood, and he wasn’t above adding on some ornamentation for a bit of flair (a not so necessary sash under some leather straps, attaching a charm or some bit or bob that he’s picked up, jewelry…). All this is usually paired with some sort of hood, too, because you gotta make yourself mysterious if you’re gonna be doing sneaky crimes, but it served him well once he got to Skyrim, because he caught on to the… racial tensions real quick, and thought it best to keep the elf thing at least a little concealed. Settling in Skyrim also meant a little bit of adjustment due to the change in climate/overall having to deal with more variations in weather and temperature, but he’s mostly stuck to the same look, just with more layering involved haha. He wears a lot of full armor now though, due to the nature of his… adventures, but he still sticks to light armor (the nightingale armor is his bff lmao).

20. Do they have a strong connection to their culture?

Not so much. Even before he left Valenwood Fae wasn’t super ingrained in the culture. The big thing would be that he’s never super strictly followed the Green Pact. He’s pretty ~modern~, much to the disappointment of his parents, who are at least a little more on the traditional side, and if anything, that just made Fae try to break away all the more. But pretty much any tradition went out the window once he started… traveling, and that’s been better for him for the most part. Too many negative memories tied to his homeland and his people. But becoming best friends with a wood elf living in Skyrim who still has an appreciation for their culture, as well as Fae eventually reconnecting with the one family member of his that he actually likes, ends up with Faenrir starting to reforge some of those ties.

38. What are their dreams like? Do they have any recurring dreams/nightmares?

Be it dreams or nightmares, there’s usually lots of running evolved. Sometimes there’s an obvious threat, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s the ability to go and go and go, sometimes it feels like he’s running through a pool of water that’s dragging him him back and slowing him down. But always so much running… Maybe there’s a very literal translation to Fae’s penchant for doing just that, for running away as first instinct, but if course he’s not gonna see it that way. He’ll tell you any sort of dream interpretation is garbage anyway.

[toonblabbers]

Getting high with the bois

 Warnings: recreational drug use, sex under the influence, heavy foreplay, deep throating, oral sex (both receiving), creampie, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dirty talk

Pairings: Suna x Osamu X GN! Reader, Kuroo x Bokuto x GN! Reader

Rating: M (mature)

Suna and Osamu:

·         These 2 smoke together almost every night. It helps them sleep after a stressful day

·         Suna’s the man with the goods and hookups: pens, oils, pipes, blunts, bongs, edibles, you name it

·         There’s an ungodly amount of sexual tension when he rolling or offering to shotgun for you or Osamu

·         Can’t really tell when he’s faded unless you make him move from where he’s sitting or when you get him to laugh. He’ll get this dopey grin on his face and struggles to stop giggling

·         Please be aware of where Suna because he can and will lay down in the most inconvenient places. He doesn’t learn even after you tripped over him going to the bathroom when he was laying down in the middle of the hallway

·         Osamu is obviously in charge of the snacks when the munchies hit. His homemade edibles are better than any store bought one, hands down

·         Osamu is also very touchy when he’s high. Touchy like it’s a requirement for someone to be sitting in his lap or for someone to be running their fingers through his hair

·         His sex drives also goes through the roof so be prepared for him to randomly start grinding against you or the couch

·         Typically you’ll just end up sleeping in a pile either in the living room with a bunch of pillows and blankets or whoever’s bed you made it to

All you could do was whine helplessly as large hands pet over your heated body; your mouth occupied by Suna trying to get every last taste of the chocolate edible you just ate. Osamu busied himself with covering your neck with kitten licks and nibbles while pawing at your sex. It was just enough to drive you mad, but you couldn’t voice your frustrations. Right when you thought he would pull away to give you a breather, suddenly Osamu was there taking his place moaning into the sloppy make out. His tongue meshed against yours lazily before he pulled back to bite on your bottom lip, diving back to repeat the process.

“You’re so sweet” Suna chuckled into your ear, the sound of him licking his fingers adding to your arousal. You failed to notice when his hand had replaced Osamu’s down the front of your underwear. You moaned desperately against Osamu’s tongue as your hips bucked into Suna’s teasing touch. Suna Guided Osamu’s hands to play with your nipples while he moves down your body, pulling your underwear off as he goes. He nips at your calf slowly towards your inner thigh before switching to the other leg, giving it the same slow treatment. You finally snap when Osamu pinches your nipples at the same time Suna sucks at the sensitive skin where your thigh and hip meet.

“Please, please, please! Rin, ‘Samu I need you- need you both! Please just fuck me already, I need you both to fuck me!”

They smirk at each other after hearing your sweet pleading. Who were they to deny you any longer? They maneuvered you so you were on your knees with you face rubbing up against Osamu’s hard cock through his sweats. Suna sat himself comfortable behind you and began to devour you relentless; fucking you open with his tongue and fingers. Osamu takes advantage of your mouth hanging open to slide his weeping cock in, letting out a deep moan at the feeling of your mouth wrapping around him. He lazily thrusts his hips until you lips touch the light dusting of his hair; his cock throbbing each time it slide down your throat. They took their sweet time with you, but boy did they deliver once they had their fill of your delicious body.

Kuroo and Bokuto

·         Arguably the hottest duo to get high with. Sex is also a guarantee so bring something sexy to wear. Or don’t; the clothes don’t stay on that long anyway

·         They usually reserve smoking to special weekends when everyone has a few days off together, so their tolerance isn’t as high as the last duo

·         That being said, it doesn’t take much for them to get high quickly

·         If you thought Kuroo looked like a lazy, scheming cat before, he definitely becomes one when he’s high. Once he lays down, it’s hard to get him back up. He does it on purpose because he loves to annoy you

·         Kuroo becomes stupid good at video games. Any kind too which pisses Kenma off to high (lol) heavens. His concentration increases tenfold because his brain reduces the amount of things he focuses on

·         Needs to be touching something warm. Says his hands are cold even though he’s only lounging in some low hanging sweatpants. You know, the kind that do little justice to hide his dick print

·         He uses the lame excuse that his hands are cold just to have them on someone’s tits, ass or genitals. He honestly not doing anything but resting his hands on you or Bokuto but it’s enough to start a rise in you both

·         Speaking of Bokuto, please keep him in the house. He’s already a naturally warm person but when he’s high he just can’t keep his clothes on for the life of him. You and Kuroo have gotten use to his whole ass dick out

·         Bokuto is also the opposite of Kuroo: he is almost always moving. Swaying with the music, doing a little dance in the kitchen while he’s raiding anywhere that has food, bouncing his leg when he’s sitting down.

·         The only time he’s not moving is when he is literally koala’d around someone. If Bokuto has you in his arms he is not letting go unless something else captures his attention.

Kuroo’s hyper focus is both a blessing and a curse sometimes. Right now it was a curse as his long cock was practically piercing into your sweet spot over and over again. You tried to muffle your cries into the pillow you were holding onto, but it was a futile attempt. Kuroo knew how good he was pounding into you by the way your mouth hung open and tears streamed down your cheeks. A sharp slap to your already reddened ass cheek forced a sharp squeal out of you making Bokuto groaned. He was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his fist tightly around his cock. He had to wait his turn after smoking the last pre roll without sharing. Both he and his cock were drooling at the sight of you being overstimulated by Kuroo. Bokuto wanted to cum so badly but wanted to do so with you clenching around him. Just the thought was enough to pull another strained groan out of him.

“Aww look at how desperate you look Kou. Go on kitten, look at how badly he wants to be fucking this hot, tight body of yours”

Kuroo grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your body flush with his as his hips slow down just a tad bit. Through your haze you can see Bokuto’s body: sweating and shaking with need, his thick cock an angry red and covered in a thin layer of his own precum. His muscles pulled tight as he watched Kuroo drag another orgasm out of you; your voice cracking as you screamed, body shuddering as your thighs were coated with both you and Kuroo’s cum. Kuroo was no better with his head thrown back, moaning out your name loudly as he pumped more cum into your weeping hole with each shallow thrust. As your body flopped back down on the couch below, Kuroo sat back as he watched his cum drip out of you and onto the cushions. He was suddenly yanked back and Bokuto was on you in an instant, rutting his hips against yours like an animal in heat. His entire body engulfed your as he whined in your ear. You only managed to whimper his name before your felt his cock stretch you out. Even after being fucked open by Kuroo, Bokuto was still bigger than him; it’s always going to be a tight fit. With the way Bokuto was already slamming home, you knew you wouldn’t be moving properly for a few days.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Admin notes: Still new at posting smut so feel free to let me know if I missed anything in the warnings. If you have any other Haikyuu duos you’d think would be fun to get high with, let me know!

Taglist: @chaotickatts​ (send me a dm if you want to be added)

[fermented-writers-block]

PART 1 of 6 of the Owl Deity Hooty Theory

[NEXT PART]

[OWL DEITY HOOTY THEORY MASTERPOST] (in development)

(TLDR at bottom of post)

Over several long months of research and analysis since March of 2020, I have been following an utterly fascinating thread of potential misdirection and subtle details throughout The Owl House, and today, I would like to start weaving together of what I believe could become one of the biggest and most cleverly disguised twists in the entire show.

To begin, let’s take a look at the B plot of Understanding Willow:

On first glance, it’s an ultimately inconsequential sidestory with the sole purpose of justifying an excuse to keep Luz and Amity in Willow’s mind, as well as providing some well-needed room to breathe and release tension after the veryemotionally charged confrontation with Inner Willow. After half an episode of Eda and King outdoing the other in ridiculous ways to win Gus’ vote and Gus running off in frustration at the end of the episode from Hooty’s inane rambling, it’s easy to laugh off Gus’ pick and assume that nothing/of value was said when he closed the door for the interview.

However, if one pays close attention to that very scene, Hooty actually canstill be heard (if faintly) underneath Eda and King’s grumbling, interestingly talking about how “It all started with a hunt. Blood red skies. That’s right, I was created-.”

Now, while it may seem silly to focus on dialogue from Hooty of all characters, this A) tells us that there was an event in the past involving blood red skies and a hunt of some kind, B) that Hooty had been created close to said event, and C) implies that what he knows but can’t tell as a story worth a damn is EXTREMELY important to be included and be hidden in such a manner.

For comparison, the only other instance of dialogue being tucked away in the background in the entire show is in Wing It Like Witches:

During the lecture at the beginning of the episode, the history teacher openswith lore on Belos appointing a head witch to each coven over 50 years ago, immediately cluing in the audience to try and decipher the rest of the lecture as it moves to the background. Adding to this is how the musical sting when Luz shows off her movie obscures what he says even further, making it even more of a intriguing puzzle that the creators clearly intended for viewers to pick up on and attempt to solve.

In contrast, the hidden dialogue of Hooty’s interview is much shorter and not as hard to decipher as the teacher’s history lesson, but at the same time, there are few to no indicators whatsoever in that scene to clue in the audience to even check for something like that. It comes at the end of an episode where most viewers would have been paradoxically tired out and driven abuzz by the revelations of Amity and Willow’s relationship, doesn’t attempt to draw much attention to itself, and frames itself as a comedic subversion of audience expectations with neither the “greatest witch who ever lived” or the self-proclaimed king of demons being picked by Gus.

Instead, he picks someone that the show portrays constantly as an oblivious and gullible idiot after being described as a “state of the art defense system” at the very beginning of the series. Someone who, despite it being played for laughs, is scarily capable of casually subduing Lilith offscreen one episode and then beating her and an entire squad of Emperor’s Coven members without even the slightest change in personality or temperament.

Someone who, due to being the Owl House itself, could be considered the titular character of the entire show, yet is taken for granted by those who inhabit him and barely gets any respect from even the cutely patronized King - including when Hooty could be interpreted as having potentially been full on DEAD for a time given the use of extremely cartoony X eyes and a lack of vital signs in The Intruder.

And someone who Eda at best tolerates and at worst abandons in personal interactions and only occasionally acknowledges him when he’s actually doing his job. Yet at the same time is so implicitly trusted beyondprotecting her home to the point where - when up against the closest person Eda has to an equal outside of likely Belos - the only actually recognizable spells Eda used in combat were 1) stereotypical energy blasts, 2) a single shield spell in Covention, and 3) a noticeably large reliance on imitations of Hooty above any other spells she could have decided to use instead.

In short, the show repeatedly tells us he is just an idiotic gag character through and through, but at the same time demonstrates he has immense power through both onscreen and offscreen demonstrations, implicitly tells us his importance ahead of time through Eda’s imitations in actually serious situations, and treats his interview and origin story as - if not even more- important to keep secret than a long lore dump about how Belos’ reign works.

After all, there being only two instances of hidden background dialogue in the entire season is already intriguing on its own, but for one to get plenty of clues to draw in people’s attention and for the other to be treated as just another gag about a “mere comic relief character” - aka a good way to draw away attention and lower one’s guard - heavily suggests a far deeper significance buried under layers of misdirection, comedy, and conditioned audience expectations.

I mean, when Eda bragged about being “a bad girl living in a secret fortress,” Hooty followed with a remark about how “I’m the secret.” While that line may sound like Hooty simply being confused as part of a one-off on the surface, it’s an odd dialogue choice for the writers to pick when you think about all the other reminders of his nature as the house itself throughout the season. With the precedent these moments set, it would have been much more appropriate for him to latch onto the “fortress” side of “secret fortress” AND it would have been just as equally funny of a joke about his awareness skills, but instead, Hooty broke away from the established trend to say something that would make people suspicious were it to come from anyone else.

In a way, this reminds me much of the many subtle bits of foreshadowing strewn across the show, like Luz unknowingly describing Amity in Witches Before Wizards and Eda burning a hole through Luz’s coven type quiz that coincidentally selected the same track she had taken at Hexside as “a punky potionist.” At the time of airing, these initially seemed like one-off jokes, but eventually came back in full force several episodes later with Amity’s hidden sensitive feelings and love for the Azura books becoming clear in Lost in Language, and the reveal of Eda’s school track in Something Ventured, Someone Framed with her school misdemeanor pictures.

That said, compared to these individual bits of minor foreshadowing, the jokes about Hooty in Understanding Willow appear to simply be the most obvious pieces in a giant puzzle, implicitly and outright telling attentive viewers that there’s a major mystery to be uncovered here.

In fact, I feel bold enough to say that we could be looking at a twist on a similar scale to that of the Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz and Stanford Pines twists in Steven Universe and Gravity Falls respectively, what with this particular puzzle piece coming from how Gus wanted to make THE greatest interview of all time, and how he was looking for someone who was “interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy:”

Note the emphasis on the ‘and’ here, as Gus had made a big deal that “people aren’t meantto be all those things” at the beginning of the episode, so as a result, stripping away all the comedic framing of his subplot leaves the intriguing implication that whoever - and, perhaps, what- Hooty is, they really are the most interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy person out of everyone.

I could go further and talk about why I suspect the mystery surrounding King’s origins, whether true or not, is partially meant to misdirect us from paying attention to Hooty, or how the TOH crew’s could be disguising legitimate clues to his nature among made up and highly meme-able joke answers in order to proliferate said concepts throughout the fandom - thus letting us do all the dirty work of getting ourselves used to the ideas and used to dismissing them at the same time - but to bring things to a close for now, I’d like to leave you all with a question that I’ll start answering next time:

What does it mean when both the most powerful and notorious witch on the Boiling Isles and the possible actual king of demons/the Titan itself/something don’t match up to a house? And what do you think it is that makes him so special to warrant such misdirection?

TLDR: Between Eda’s golem spells, the show stressing his nature as the titular house, his implicit strength, and the odd dialogue and structure of Understanding Willow‘s subplot in relation to him, I believe I have good reason to suspect the show has been giving us many hints towards Hooty being much, much more important than it would like us to currently believe or even joke about. Particularly, through clever uses of comedy to establish and enforce a strong audience bias against looking closely at him or unironically taking him seriously, and to potentially plant the seeds for something I will start exploring in Part 2.

[kuripon]

Darnit Kuri I can’t get your fertility god out of my head 🙈❤️

11 or 100? I am but a simple geraskier girl but whatever catches your fancy? Love you!

As requested, Panda, the fertility god!Jaskier continuation you asked for. I'm not sure where in the timeline of that story this is, but it's in there! #11 is body worship and that's what follows. Beta'd by my liege-lord, @officerjennie

Send me a prompt?

-----

(inundated with) the fated thought of you | Geraskier | rating: E-ish? | 778 words | cw: almost smut, piiiiiiniiiiiiiig, yearning, aching, (how many more words can I use to portray the not actually unrequited love here), silly silly boys, soft tummies

There. Right there. The way the stretch marks swirl and dance over his soft, supple skin. It would be very fair to call Jaskier obsessed, he thinks. His fingers delicately trace the paths they painted on the canvas that is Geralt's soft skin, eyes glinting in the low candlelight as he sees the goosebumps rise on Geralt's flesh.

"Sensitive. I never would've guessed." Jaskier sneaks a kiss to Geralt's hip, the pressure of his lips both barely there and overwhelming.

Geralt's hands flex at his side, clutching at the inn's rough bed sheets as he practices a level of self-restraint he never thought would be needed in his very long lifetime.

Geralt keeps his gaze locked above Jaskier's head, counting the cracks in the ceiling as his cheeks flush pink at the attention being paid to the softer parts of his body. "Hmmm," is all he can come up with. If he actually opened his mouth, he's afraid of what might fall out and he's not sure Jaskier is ready to hear it. Hell, he's not sure he's ready to hear it.

Jaskier's laughter floats through the air, adding to the dream-like atmosphere surrounding them. The noisy world outside of their room ceases to exist as every sense in Geralt's body focuses on Jaskier. Geralt is splayed on their bed, his body bare to Jaskier's viewing pleasure. Though, if Jaskier had anything to say about it, he is only returning the worship paid to him by Geralt's devotion over the years of their relationship.

Jaskier lays tucked between Geralt's legs, pinning him to the straw-filled mattress, equally as nude as his disciple. His fingers trace the graceful dip of Geralt's waist as he begins humming softly, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of his stomach. The vibrations buzz gently against his skin, causing Geralt's eyes to flutter shut. His heart is racing, his normally slow heartbeat almost matching the tempo of Jaskier's melody.

It's a tune that Geralt has heard before, but has never heard the lyrics to. Come to think of it, Geralt doesn't think he's ever seen Jaskier perform the song before a tavern audience. What if-- Immediately he squashes the thought that this song is only for him, but is unable to fight back that surge of hope. The hope that one day, Jaskier would be only his.

"You can touch me, Geralt." Jaskier reaches up and caresses his clenched hands. "I'd rather that than this." Jaskier works his fingers into Geralt's fisted hands, prying his left hand open first, the right following suit. "Relax. Please enjoy this."

Geralt grunts softly and lets out a sigh. He takes in a deep breath as tries to get his body to relax and take in the pleasure and is immediately overtaken by Jaskier's natural smell-- a subtle mixture of the moment just before the earth is drenched in spring rains, freshly grown grass, sweet, musky flowers bursting into bloom with dewy petals.

Jaskier laughs again and picks up where he left off. "You know... I think Midaëte is my favorite time of year to travel with you." Jaskier presses his fingers into the soft layer of fat that pads Geralt's middle. Geralt shivers and feels the tension draining from his body, sinking into the mattress cradling them. "The contracts have been plentiful, we're flush with coin, and you're not so stingy with your meals." Jaskier watches as his fingers sink in, almost as if they're being absorbed into all that softness. "You start to fill out, darling, and so wonderfully at that. Look at how soft you are."

"Jaskier..." Geralt whines softly, eyes opening again to the hazy world around him. His body burns, arousal simmering low but steady. He picks up a hand, wanting to touch Jaskier in return, but is unsure where he's allowed to touch him. Jaskier reaches up and guides the lost hand to his hair, winking up at Geralt.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, witcher. Even beneath this new layer of self-love, the strength it protects is quite evident." Jaskier gives Geralt a self-satisfied grin before burying his face in Geralt's tummy.

"Jask!" Geralt lets out in a most un-witcherly squawk, his hand tightening in Jaskier's hair. Jaskier's laughter is full-bodied and boisterous, and Geralt can't fight back the surge of love that runs through his body. If there were ever a time to tell Jaskier of his love, now would be the perfect moment, surrounded by joy as they were. But the words tumble from his thoughts down to his tongue and get stuck right behind his teeth. One day, he thinks. Soon, he hopes. Now, he wants.

[mypersonmyg]

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment. 

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by  feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep. 

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids. 

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips. 

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls. 

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions. 

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place. 

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom. 

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?” 

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.” 

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being. 

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst  squealish giggling. “It was handmade.” 

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins. 

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt. 

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter. 

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt. 

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just  halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making. 

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness. 

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?” 

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior. 

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin. 

“What?” 

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as  you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.” 

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch. 

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins. 

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white. 

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning. 

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head. 

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole. 

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

[booksinsteadofdrugs]

the cast of shadow and bone. was. perfect.

alina was straight out of the books. jessie portrayed her stubbornness, naivety, and confusion incredibly. from the way she denied her power at first, to the moment where she took it back from the darkling and claimed it hers. jessie mei li is the sun summoner, and we couldn't have asked for a better one.

malyen was even better than the malyen we've seen in the books. archie did a fantastic job with the character (he needs to be praised more considering his character is one of the most unnecessarily hated characters of all time and he was given hard time by some fans from the moment he was cast for the show). he was brave, loyal and charming the whole time. they added depth to his character with those keramzin flashbacks and both jessie and archie turned malina's bond into something more pure and more sweet. archie's acting was also one of the highlights of this show for me. he was just perfect.

i believe ben barnes was born to play the darkling, and no. i'm not being dramatic. he's captured the darkling's intimidating, manipulating yet charming nature so well. he wasn't just trying to manipulate alina, he was also manipulating the audience to think he is just a misunderstood man, paying the price of his ancestors' crimes. he was the best casting choice i've seen in a long time. the fact that he's older than anyone in the cast adds more layer to the darkling's image, i believe. in every scene he screams authority. from his posture to the way he's spitting out the words, we can see that ben has been working hard on this character. and personally, i'm so grateful for that.

the crows. they. were. incredible. i have no words. amita suman is literally the inej that everyone imagined while reading the books. she managed to capture every little detail about inej. especially seeing how her faith was affecting her decisions when it comes to killing was amazing. and the way she didn't hesitate to kill when kaz was in danger. and her admiration for alina. god, i just love inej so much. freddie did a spectacular job with kaz. he was incredible. i remember seeing inej and jesper flinching and turning their heads when alexei was shot, but kaz stood their like a statue, not moving an inch. without blinking. because he already knew what was gonna happen. also, i loved how he constantly denied believing alina was a saint until he finally did, and it was for inej. the way freddie always watched amita in scenes, always making sure she's nearby made me smile like an idiot. he had a purpose in every scene, he was never just standing there for show. that's the kaz brekker we know. he always has a plan and freddie portrayed kaz's confidence, his cunning nature and his faith in his crew so well. jesper was incredible. i could feel how much love kit has for his character from the way he played with his guns to the way he walked, he was literally just having fun with his character. i loved how tense he looked in ravka sometimes, not forgetting his character's abilities. he portrayed jesper's playful nature amazingly and it was a delight seeing him in this character. he made me laugh countless times throughout the season, and i can't wait to see more of him (especially with wylan) god, i love him so much.

nina and matthias. their chemistry. dude. i can't even speak. i feel like all the people who complained about danielle not fitting the nina image they had in their mind owe danielle an apology. because she was just perfect. i know i've used this word so many times but there's honestly no other way to describe it. danielle and calahan were literally shining together. the sexual tension was so tense. they were impeccable and netflix, i'm begging you, please give them more scenes in the next season. they made me scream, they made me laugh, and they made me cry. calahan portrayed matthias's superstitious and innocent personality so great. and the way nina was constantly flirting with him to make him embarrassed, they were literally the book helnik. i love them so much.

zoya. my queen. i wasn't expecting her to have this much screentime anf i was scared they were going to use her as a background character since she didn't have much part in the first book but wow, sujaya made sure to steal every scene she was in. she was always fierce, ambitious and gorgeous the whole time. you just can't stop yourself from adoring her. and she portrayed zoya's character development so beautifully. especially in the last scenes. i can't wait to see her more in the next season, especially with nikolai. c'mon netflix, speed things up if you have to. i want to see them together.

genya and david were great too. especially in the scene where we see genya with her new kefta gave me chills. knowing what she had to do to get it was intense. daisy was great as genya, her movements were always elegant, and we could sense the injustice that happened to her considering the few scenes she was in, especially without being explained clearly. luke pasqualino is a comedic genius. i loved seeing his awkward yet adorable david portrayal so much. especially his uncomfortable silence after genya says "see you at the fete". his uncertain movements and the way he raised his finger before speaking was hilarious. i loved their stolen glances at the winter fete. i need more of them, like, right now.

and also i wanna thank the writers for making ivan and fedyor gay. they were the couple i didn't know i need it. the way fedyor was feeding him was so cute. it even made me feel bad for ivan at the end when jesper shot him, although i didn't care for him in the books at all.

long story short, this cast made the characters even more likeable than the books. which is so rare considering all the horrible book to screen adaptations. they were all perfect. and they earned my gratitude for taking time to read the books, and do their job so well.

they did justice to leigh's work and i can't be more proud.

[abbacchiosbelt]

Hold On | Prosciutto x Reader

A commissioned fic for the wonderful Shae!

CW: Misogynistic comments [not from Prosciutto], oral sex. NSFW, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.3k words.

The sunlight filtering through the apartment’s cheap blinds forces you to blearily open your eyes, your gaze immediately falling to the man in the bed next to you – Prosciutto. The night you’d spent with him had been more than you’d ever dreamed of, especially with a man of Prosciutto’s caliber. Handsome, mysterious, and clearly well-off by the price of the dinner he’d taken you out to. Though he’d waved you away when you asked for the price, you managed to catch it out of the corner of your eye. Prosciutto had even spent the night with you, letting you fall asleep on his chest while he stroked your hair. It was tender, intimate – not something you necessarily expected after a single date.

Prosciutto stirs, as if he knew you were thinking about him, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth pulled into a frown. When he catches your eyes, you see a brief hint of a smile before he sits up and immediately stands to start gathering his clothes.

“You’re leaving already?” You sit up, pulling the covers over your chest. Prosciutto nods but doesn’t look over at you. Your stomach falls, but you should have expected it. At the very least, you wouldn’t have been opposed to him staying for a light breakfast. Once he’s fully dressed, he finally turns to look at you. His eyes are steely, portraying no emotion.

“It was…” He waves his hand in the air, searching for the word. “Very good. But, ah,” Prosciutto hesitates, watching your expression. He remembers the text Illuso had sent him in the middle of the night; a line in English to use when he left in the morning. “I’m a busy man, cara.” It’s only a little clunky when he speaks, the pet name afterwards flowing smoothly from his lips.

It was like that, then – his warmth from the night before must have been an act. You don’t bother trying to pretend that you’re okay with his behavior, instead giving him a cool look in return. You tilt your head towards the doorway, affixing him with a look that said everything he needed to know. “Ciao, Prosciutto.” The words are no longer kind like when you saw him on the sidewalk and stopped to talk to him, instead sounding final. He sighs and gives you one last lingering look before he steps out of the room. You don’t move until you hear your front door close.

“Bastard,” you mutter under your breath, flopping back down on your pillow. You cover up the side of the bed where he’d been sleeping with your comforter, ignoring the lingering scent of his cologne. You were tempted to waste the day in bed but instead decide to strip your sheets, throwing them unceremoniously in the washing machine and adding in too much fabric softener. At least the scent of him would be gone. A part of you feels foolish for being so upset, and yet another part of you can’t let go of how genuine Prosciutto seemed. While you didn’t want to deal with it today, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was something more to your night with him.

-

Prosciutto stubs his cigarette out on the ground, frowning at how many cigarette butts were littered around the front doorstep of his home and workplace. He could have cleaned it up himself, but he wasn’t the only smoker in the group, so why should he have to? The filth sours his already dour mood, the blonde muttering curses as he unlocks the building’s door. It hadn’t been his first choice to live with his teammates, but since the loss of Sorbet and Gelato, the close quarters provided them with an extra layer of safety.

Prosciutto groans in annoyance when the first faces to pop up into his view are Melone and Formaggio, the pair staring at him expectantly. Melone was lounging on the dingy couch he’d brought with him when he moved in, his laptop perched on his legs. Formaggio was sitting in the large chair that Risotto usually claimed, both of them looking like the cat who got the canary. It irked Prosciutto that they were staring at him like they knew something, and he wondered if Illuso hadn’t blabbed about the whole thing. It wouldn’t be unlike him.

“Welcome back,” Melone says, practically purring. The way he spoke made Prosciutto’s skin crawl – Melone always had a certain tone to his voice when he was going to say something inappropriate. “So, the neighbor girl? What was her name again? Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t remember now.” Melone’s mouth curls up into a smug smile, his tongue poking out. Prosciutto bristles, and Formaggio lets out an obnoxious snort.

“Knew you’d get to her first.” Formaggio whistles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Was her ass as good as it looked?” Prosciutto glares at Formaggio, his eyes darkening. The banter around who his teammates were fucking was something he should be used to, despite the fact Prosciutto didn’t enjoy participating in it. Something about this time, though, was filling him was anger. Formaggio continues, ignoring Prosciutto’s expression. “I bet she was easy for you. You pretty bastards practically make those easy slut’s panties fall off just from looking at them.”

“Ooh, and how was that pretty mouth of hers?” Melone chimes in – unlike Formaggio, he’d noticed Prosciutto’s growing rage, but took pleasure in upsetting the blonde. Prosciutto growls and steps forward, Grateful Dead rising from behind him. Before he can advance on them, a voice cuts through—

“Aniki! Y-you remember what Risotto said about Stands in here.” Pesci’s unsure voice breaks the tension in the room, Melone and Formaggio recoiling back at the sight of Prosciutto’s deadly Stand. Prosciutto takes a ragged breath before recalling his Stand, Pesci’s intervention forcing him to remember where he was. Pesci nervously steps over to Prosciutto; afraid he’d made him even angrier. Prosciutto claps Pesci on the shoulder.

“You’re right,” Prosciutto says. His cool demeanor is back in an instant. He doesn’t bother to look at Melone and Formaggio when he starts to walk back towards his room, saluting Pesci with two fingers before he shuts the door behind him. Prosciutto lets out a deep breath when the door is securely locked, kicking off his expensive shoes. He preferred to spend as much time as possible away from this place, but there were no errands that needed to be run nor any missions that he and Pesci were suited for at the moment. He had a rare few hours to himself before someone would inevitably knock at his door to bother him. Alone time was something sacred to Prosciutto, but with the thoughts boiling over in his head about her, it was something he was dreading. He glances at the English dictionary Ghiaccio had (loudly) snuck into his room, his stomach twisting.

There was no denying that Prosciutto had fallen for her.

Feelings were a dangerous thing for an assassin to have. Prosciutto was trained from a young age on how to push his feelings to the back of his mind – he was primed for Mafia life. Passione and completing the missions given to him came before anything else, especially his own personal life. Prosciutto had lived that way for years. Emotions were drowned in cheap booze and cigarettes, any fleeting feelings he may have stamped out by his own harsh nature. He had never spent a second night with anyone he’d slept with in the past five years, and that was going to be how he lived until he died. Prosciutto was well aware of the dangerous life he lived – he was cold, but he wasn’t cold enough to put someone in harm’s way, even if he wanted them more than anything.

Even if they had made warmth bloom in his chest for the first time in years and made him truly feel something.

Prosciutto closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits on his bed, fishing another cigarette out of his jacket’s pocket. He preferred to smoke outdoors, but he can’t be bothered to care in his current emotional state. Prosciutto lights his cigarette and takes a deep drag, letting the smoke burn his throat before he exhales. He thinks about the previous night – how lovely his company had been and how much she’d made him laugh. How well they clicked despite the language barrier, and how easy it felt with her; her demure smile before he’d taken her to bed, and how easily she had made him fall apart.

Prosciutto knows he should ignore his feelings. It’s what he was trained to do, after all. It’s what he should do – but he knows he can’t. Not this time. He stands from his bed and opens the small window in his room, tossing his half-finished cigarette out.

He’d give her time – a week for both of them to cool their heads. Even if she didn’t want to see him again, he had to try.

-

The next few days pass by without incident. You go to work and continue life as it was before, frustrated but determined to move on. Your phone stays silent, and you try to ignore the part in you that hopes it will ring.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. It was just one date.

When you hear a knock on the door one week to the day after your date with Prosciutto, you’re cautious. The neighborhood you lived in wasn’t known for its safety, and it was rare that anyone knocked on your door. Clad in loungewear, you peek through the eyehole to see the last person you were expecting.

There stood Prosciutto, shifting from side to side. You unlock your door and crack it open, watching as Prosciutto’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before his face returns to its grumpy looking state. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to answer.

“Can I come in?” Prosciutto asks, quiet. You hesitate, wondering exactly what he could want. He doesn’t pressure you, waiting in silence while you deliberate. You knew you might regret it, but you open the door and usher him in. He shuts the door behind himself and leans against it, biting his bottom lip. You hadn’t known him long, but you had never seen him look so anxious. “Bella, I…” He starts, trailing off.

You stop him before he gets too far, crossing your arms. “I don’t want some apology you give to every girl.” Prosciutto frowns but doesn’t interject. “You hurt me.”

Prosciutto nods, and you raise an eyebrow at him. He pauses for a second while he thinks about what he wants to say. “Mi dispiace, Shae.” His eyes meet yours, the sound of your name coming from his mouth making your heart pound. It was almost criminal how easily you wanted to forgive him, but you needed more than just an apology. Prosciutto takes a step forward and holds his hand out. You place your hand in his, hesitant. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the back of it. “Can we… try again?” Prosciutto is earnest when he speaks, your hand still resting in his. He threads his fingers through yours, a soft smile on his face. “Per favore?”

As tempting as it was to accept his apology, you refused to let him back into your life without making sure Prosciutto knew how you felt – about how you wouldn’t just be tossed to the side again. You keep a hold of his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Prosciutto, I want to, but…” He raises his eyebrows, but his deep blue gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Tell me the truth. Do you want me?” Prosciutto opens his mouth, but you use your free hand to press your index finger against his lips. He looks surprised, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Not just now. But in the future?” You think for a moment that you might need to translate for him, but Prosciutto nods eagerly. He pulls you into him, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“Sì, Shae. I want you,” he leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. “Now. Tomorrow. Costantemente.” He breathes, ghosting a kiss across your lips. “Can I?”

You close the gap between your mouths as an answer, Prosciutto’s responding groan as his warm lips found your own making your lower half ache – you’d been dreaming of feeling his touch again. Prosciutto lets go of your hand and grabs the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He was more vocal than he’d been last week, his moans needy as you slide your tongue across his lower lip.

For the first time, Prosciutto felt like he could let his walls down around someone – he can barely think with your lips finally on his again. Never had he ached so much for someone. To Prosciutto, you felt like a lover he’d been with for years. He wanted to make it up to you for being such a fool, to treat you like the goddess he saw you as. He slides his hands down your body and squeezes your ass before hauling you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The surprised noise that you let out makes Prosciutto’s already hardening length twitch, but it was the last thing on his mind. The only thing he could think about was hearing you cry out for him as he buried his face in between your legs. He maneuvers you to your bedroom like he’d been in your home a million times, gently laying you down on the bed before hungrily looking over you.

The fact you only had loungewear on while Prosciutto was dressed in his usual outfit makes you feel self-conscious, but the blonde barely seems to care what you have on. You squirm as his eyes rove up and down your body, Prosciutto grinning at your reaction.

“Sei bellissima,” he purrs. The words affect you just as much as they had the first time you heard them from Prosciutto, your heart thumping in your chest. To be called beautiful by someone as handsome as Prosciutto felt unreal, but you knew by the look in his deep blue eyes that he was sincere. Prosciutto crawls over you on the bed and puts his fingers under the hem of your shirt, waiting.

“Take it off.” Prosciutto hums, pleased at your eager response, and wastes no time sliding your shirt up and off. He bites his lip at the sight of your freed breasts and uses his hands to cup them, softly rubbing his thumb over your hardening nipples. The soft touches have you arching into his fingers, greedy for more. “Please,” you beg, and Prosciutto smirks. He leans down and captures your right nipple in his mouth, his warm tongue circling around the bud before he flicks it, repeating the rhythm before moving to your other breast. One hand travels down your body while he works your breasts, his hand trailing over your hip bone and dipping slightly beneath the fabric covering your lower half. He pulls back and admires his handiwork, his cock uncomfortably hard in his pants now. Prosciutto ignores it, focusing on you instead.

Prosciutto trails kisses down your torso until he reaches your lower stomach, his eyes flitting up to look at you under his dark lashes. “May I?” He asks, playing with the hem of your pants.

“P-please,” your voice is wobbly – he hadn’t done this last time, and you were a little nervous. Prosciutto presses a kiss to your stomach and lifts his head, your anxiety obvious to him. You know he’ll ask you if you’re sure, so you beat him to it, your cheeks darkening. “I want it,” Your eyes don’t leave Prosciutto’s. “Please, Prosciutto.” Asking for what you want is enough to make your cheeks blaze even harder from embarrassment, but Prosciutto’s wide smirk is evidence that he enjoys how forward you were being.

Prosciutto slides your pants down and off your legs with ease before he moves back up and gently spreads them apart, exposing your glistening pussy. You feel embarrassed at how wet you are, but it was impossible not to be with Prosciutto’s masterful kissing and touching. He licks his lips as he gazes at your sex, using two fingers to spread your lips apart.

“P, Prosciutto-” you whisper-shout, flustered. If you could see his mouth, you’d see the grin on his face.

“Hm?” He replies, leaning forward. You can feel his warm breath on you, the sensation making your body feel hyper aware. “Perfetta.” You shiver, remembering his words from your previous encounter – despite the embarrassment from being exposed in front of him, you were dying to know how his mouth felt. Your wish is granted when Prosciutto suddenly licks a long stripe from your perineum to your clit using the flat of his tongue, a growl coming from his throat as he tastes your juices.

“Oh!” You shout, the feeling of his tongue almost too good. Prosciutto doesn’t give you a chance to think before his mouth is back on your pussy again, the combination of sloppy kisses and practiced flicks of his tongue on your clit driving you crazy. He uses his arms to drag you forward so that your legs are over his shoulders while he works at you like a man starved – he uses his tongue to fuck your pussy as deep as he can, rutting against the bed for his own relief.

Prosciutto’s jaw is aching, but he refuses to stop – and how could he, when you looked so beautiful writhing above him? The heady scent of you combined with the divine taste had his cock leaking precum in his slacks. All he wanted to do was take his own cock out and fuck you until his name was the only thing you could remember, but he refused to do so without finishing his apology to you with his mouth. He feels your legs shaking around him and switches tactics, using his tongue and mouth on your clit, groaning when he feels your hands tug at his hair. He allows you to push him in just the right spot, his own body buzzing with pleasure as you use him.

You cry out and press yourself hard against Prosciutto as his tongue finally takes you over the peak that’d been building up in your body, your eyes clenching shut as your legs clamp around him, white hot pleasure coursing through your lower half. Your body feels like it’s floating as you come down, your legs and arms going limp with relief. Prosciutto lifts his head from your pussy, face glistening with your juices and a smirk plastered across his face. He gently eases himself out from below you and sits against the pillows resting against your headboard. He moves so that you can rest your head against your lap, Prosciutto gently brushing through your hair with his fingers.

“Prosciutto,” You murmur, your mind still hazy. “Let me take care of you.” He shakes his head from above you, giving your head a pat before he goes back to stroking your hair.

“Later, tesoro.” The pet name makes your stomach flutter, and you give him a lazy smile. He smiles back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. You close your eyes, eventually falling asleep to Prosciutto’s soothing touches.

When you wake up, you’re covered in the comforter. There’s something warm wrapped around you – when you look over, you see Prosciutto snoozing away, his hair loose and spread around the pillow. You smile and settle back down, warmth flowing through your chest when Prosciutto cuddles closer to you in his sleep.

This time, you knew he would be there in the morning.

[iimpavidwrites]

Benzaiten Steel and the Fragility of Perception

or: reasons why setting boundaries is important #1283

I’ve figured out a reason why Benzaiten Steel stayed with his mother instead of doing the “sensible” thing and moving out. I think that it’s possible, too, that Juno has always been aware of the answer but, in the scope of Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, he isn’t able to face it head-on because it contradicts his black/white, either/or sense of morality.

TL;DR: Despite Juno Steel’s unreliable narration we are able to see clearly the enmeshed relationship Benzaiten had with their mother Sarah and the ways in which that unhealthy family dynamic shaped Juno Steel as a person.

Sources: 50% speculation, 20% lit crit classes, 30% my psychology degree. 

Juno’s perception of Ben is shallow and filtered through the limitations of human memory. We all know by now, too, that Juno’s an Unreliable Narrator™.  In light of this, we need to ask ourselves why it is that Juno remembers Ben as happy, supportive, and only ever gentle in the challenges he poses to Juno. Throughout the episode, Ben’s memory is clearly acting as a comforting psychopomp: he ferries Juno through the metaphorical death of his old understanding of his mother (and also himself) and into a new way of thinking. He does this through persistent-but-kind questions, never telling Juno what to do or how to do it. This role could have been played by anyone in Juno’s life (Mick and Rita come to mind first) which makes it telling that Juno’s mind chose Ben to fill this role.

Juno’s version of Ben is cheerful, endlessly patient with Juno and Sarah, and above all he is compassionate. He acts as a mediating presence between Juno and Juno’s memory of Sarah and he doesn’t ask a whole lot for himself. If this is Juno’s strongest memory/impression of Ben’s behavior and perspective, then we can draw some conclusions about the roles they each played in the Steel family unit: Juno was antagonistic to Sarah and vice versa, and Ben was relegated to the role of mediator for the both of them.

Juno: She’s just evil. Ben: That’s a big word. Juno: “Evil”? Ben: No, “Just”.

We can see in this exchange that Ben is a vehicle for the compassion Juno needs to show not only to Sarah but to himself, too, in order to move on and evolve his understanding of his childhood traumas. 

This is not necessarily an appropriate role for a sibling or a child to hold in a family unit.

In family psychology, one of the maladaptive relationship patterns that is discussed is enmeshment. Googling the term you’ll find a lot of sensational results (e.g. “emotional incest syndrome”) that aren’t necessarily accurate in describing what this dysfunction looks like in the real world. This is in part because enmeshment can present many different ways. So, in order to proceed with this analysis of Benzaiten Steel’s relationship with his mom, I need to define enmeshment. 

Enmeshment occurs when the normal boundaries of a parent-child relationship are dissolved and the parent becomes over-reliant on the child, requiring the child to cater to their emotional needs and to otherwise become a parent to the parent (or to themself and/or to other children in the family). This is easiest to spot when a parent confides in a child as if they’re a best friend, disclosing details of their romantic life, expecting the child to give them advice on coping with work stress, and similar. Once enmeshment occurs, any kind of emotional shift in one member of the enmeshed household will reverberate to the others; self-regulation and discernment (e.g. figuring out which emotions originate in the parent and which ones originate in the child) becomes extremely difficult for the effected child and parent. When an enmeshed child becomes an enmeshed adult they often have issues with self-identity and interpersonal boundaries. For example, they may struggle to define themselves without external validation and expect others to be able to intuitively divine their emotions. After all, the enmeshed adult could do this with their parent and others easily due to hypervigilance cultivated by their parent and they may not understand that such was not the typical childhood experience. These adults are often individuals to whom the advice “don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm” is often relevant and disregarded. They may perceive their own needs as superfluous to others’-- and resent others as a consequence.

Another layer of complication is added when the parent in an enmeshed relationship is an addict, as Sarah Steel was. The enmeshed child often times becomes the physical caregiver to their parent as well and must cope with all the baggage loving an addict brings: the emotional rollercoaster of the parent trying to get clean or the reality of their neglecting or stealing from their child to support their habit or their simply being emotionally absent. Enmeshment leaves children with a lot of conflicting messages about their role in the family, how to conduct relationships, and how to define themself.

We only get an outside perspective on this enmeshment in the Steel family. It’s clear in the text that Juno’s relationship with his mother was fraught. He jokes in The Case of the Murderous Mask that she didn’t kill him but “not for lack of trying”, implying that Ben’s murder wasn’t the first time Sarah Steel lashed out at Juno-- or thought she was lashing out at Juno but hurt Ben instead. During the entire tenure Juno’s trek through the underworld of his own trauma, Juno asks the specter of Benzaiten over and over, “Why did you stay?”. This is a question that Juno himself can’t answer because Ben, when he was alive, probably never gave him an answer that Juno found satisfactory. There are a few possibilities, which I can guess from experience, as to what the answer was:

Ben may never have been able to articulate that his relationship with their mother left him feeling responsible for her wellbeing. 

Or, if he ever told Juno that, Juno may have simply brushed off this concern. After all, as far as Juno was concerned, Sarah was only ever just evil. To protect himself from his mother’s neglect and codependence, Juno shut down his own ability to perspective-take and think about the nuances that might inform a person’s addiction, mental illness, abusive behavior, etc.

It is likely that Ben thought either his mother needed him to survive or, alternatively, that he couldn’t survive without her-- as if often the case with children who are enmeshed with their primary caregiver. It was natural and necessary for him, from this perspective, to stay. Enmeshment is a very real psychological trap.

It is often frustrating and hard as hell to love someone who is in an enmeshed relationship because, from the outside, the damage being done to them seems obvious. See: Juno’s assertion that Sarah was just evil. Juno is, even 19 years later, still angry about Sarah Steel and her failures as a parent and as a person. His thinking on this subject is very black-and-white. He positions Sarah as a Bad Guy in his discussions with Ben-the-psychopomp and the childhood cartoon slogan of “The Good Guys Always Win!” is repeated ad nauseum throughout Juno’s underworld journey. This mode of thinking serves two purposes:

First, it illustrates the role Juno played in the household: he was opposed to Sarah in all things and Sarah did not require any compassion or enmeshment from Juno. Juno was, quite possibly, neglected in favor of Ben which would create a deep resentment… toward both Sarah and toward Ben. This family dynamic would reinforce Juno’s shallow moral reasoning and leave him with vague, unachievable ideals to strive for like “Be One of the Good Guys” or “Don’t Be Like Mom” -- ideals that he can’t reach because he is a flawed human being and not a cartoon character, creating a feedback loop of resentment toward his mother and guilt about resenting Benzaiten. That guilt would further bolster Juno’s shallow memory of Ben as being infallibly patient, kind, loving, etc. 

Second, Juno’s black/white moral reasoning is an in-text expression of the meaning behind Juno’s name. When “Rex Glass” points out that Juno is a goddess associated with protection, Juno immediately has a witty, bitter rejoinder  ready about Juno-the-goddess killing her children. Juno was named for a deity who in some ways strongly resembles Sara Steel and he resents that he is literally being identified as his own mother. Juno-the-goddess has one hell of a temper, being the parallel to Rome’s Hera. Juno is not a goddess (detective) who forgives easily when she (he) knows that a child (Benzaiten Steel) has been harmed. This dichotomy of “venerated protector” versus “vengeful punisher”  causes psychological tension for Juno that is only partially resolved in The Monster’s Reflection. The tension is not fully resolved, however, because Juno never gets a clear answer for the question, “Why did you stay?”

The answer is there but it is one that Juno doesn’t like and so can’t articulate: Ben is enmeshed with Sarah who named him, of all things, Benzaiten and that is why he stayed. We’ve already seen that names have intentional significance in the text. Benzaiten is hypothesized to be a syncretic deity between Hinduism and Buddhism, is a goddess primarily associated with water. Syncretic deities are fusions of similar deities from different religions/cultures; their existence is the result of compromise and perspective-taking and acceptance. Water, too, is forgiving in this way: it takes the shape of whatever container you pour it into... not unlike a child who is responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their entire family unit. Not unlike Benzaiten Steel.

Ben stayed with his mother because his relationship with his mother was enmeshed, leaving him little choice but to stay, and this ultimately led to tragedy. Sarah Steel’s failures as a parent are many and Juno still has a lot of baggage to unpack in that regard, especially where Ben is concerned. It’s unlikely that we’ll get the same kind of “speedrunning therapy” episode again but I know that The Penumbra is committed to a certain amount of psychological realism in its character arcs so I am confident in asserting that Juno Steel isn’t finished. Recovery is a journey and he’s only taken the first steps.

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | EPILOGUE

💖 story masterlist 💖

This is it. This is the happy ending they deserve. Fluff. Fem!Loki, because we don't get enough of Loki's female form. Some musings about relationships in general, I think. Guys, I'm crying as I'm posting this.

note: I've got two posts of outtakes coming out sometime this week. Snippets that didn't fit in the story but that have the needed vibe, y kno? As well as a new story is coming out soon... Be sure to check out my main masterlist and taglist if you like my writing <3

I want to thank all my readers for this amazing journey. I love all of you, really, like- I haven't figured out how to produce serotonin on my own ever since I hit puberty, and you guys, you are an amazing source for it. I appreciate the time and the patience that it took to read this 120k word thing and I hope you found a little something for yourself in my writing. A comfort, maybe, because everyone deserves to be happy. I love you all 3000.

"You suck," I grumbled in Peter's direction. Luckily, the little shit was out of my immediate eyesight and I couldn't just pelt him with the assorted items that were scattered around me; luckily for him - after enduring hours of non-stop rambling from the spider boy, I was ready to bargain with Stephen for the sorcerer to put a temporary mute ban on Pete. His nervousness was becoming contagious.

"And you swallow," Pietro replied with a snicker as I heard him wrestle with Peter's tie over the pathetic noises of whining and grumbling coming from the younger man.

"I'm lady, ladies don't spit," I rolled my eyes into the skies, catching Loki's appreciative snicker. She - and yes, Loki was in her female form for this event - carefully combed and did my hair, something completely out of this world, all puns intended. I supposed she was feeling generous, because her female form generally made Loki even more moody and unapproachable. But in a hot way. I hope she didn't notice me ogling her like some kind of gallery painting. "You're a goddess, I can't believe you're friends with me," I addressed Loki, watching the careful movements of her slender hands in the mirror.

A small smirk and a dusting of pink over her pale cheeks was what I got, but the silence was so, so loud.

"Stop flirting," Wanda remarked from her spot by the window where she was doing Natasha's make-up with surgical precision. "You already have three boyfriends, leave some for us, Jesus," Her tone was playful.

"Oh my God, like you didn't brainfreeze and run into the fucking wall, forehead-first, when you saw Loki walk in," I scoffed as Loki's blush deepened.

My witchy friend grumbled something rude in Sokovian under her breath but refrained from any more comments, choosing to simp in defiant silence. Well, good for her, because I was about a hundred and five percent sure that Loki was as equally as smitten with her. It's just that neither of them knew how to approach the other. What can I say, idiots in love...

And yes, yes, I can say that because it takes one to know one. My own idiots were somewhere on the upper floors - getting ready in their own rooms, pulling out their brand new suits and ties for the annual Stark gala. It was supposed to be a charity fundraiser but as all of us were quite disillusioned, we knew it was nothing but a pissing contest between people with small PP syndrome. Even Tony himself said so.

Which is why I had assembled all the girls and theys in my room for a mission debrief. My own personal pride wouldn't let me be anything but a star, and to be completely honest, I just wanted to show off my family to the world - even if the delicate parts of our relationship were hidden from the general public, it filled me with immense amount of joy to be surrounded by my very own at their absolute best.

As for Pietro and Peter, they arrived not too long after me, Wanda, Natasha and Loki made camp in the biggest room with the most amount of natural light, surrounded by make-up and other assorted tools. Both boys were bickering but it was obvious that some of the older men had gotten on their nerves, forcing the youngsters seek solace with their peers.

"You know, Vanity Fair better be talking about us for at least a week," I grouched as Wanda helped me into my dress before I returned the favour. "The amount of people I had to actually, physically talk to, to get us these fucking gowns, is frankly disgusting."

"Agreed," Loki admired herself in the mirror, smoothing out invisible creases in her gown. "Although I must say, the dressmakers on Midgard are far more patient and open-minded than on Asgard." Truly, Loki had nearly driven the poor lady crazy. But on the upside, Loki looked like a living doll. Pristine, perfect.

"Our whims are their wages," Natasha piped up with a chuckle.

We stepped out into the main room, taking note of the men scattered on the couches, all of them wearing an almost identical expression of being already done with the formal event - which, I didn't blame them. Having gotten used to the informal, communal-living atmosphere, I wasn't overly keen on being surrounded by random rich douchebags either; as it was unavoidable, I was going to be miserable - but at least I was going to be miserable in style.

Predictably, the menfolk froze and hurried to pelt us with compliments as they surveyed our ensemble - all of our dresses had a distinct vibe despite carrying a sense of individuality to each gown. That was my idea, actually, to present the team as a family - both to satisfy my own need for one and to present a good public image for the press. Call it getting good cookie from the public - in advance.

"Stunning, absolutely beautiful," Tony chastely kissed my cheek, leading my by the arm towards the limo, Stephen and Bruce a pace behind us. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"We are," Bruce corrected him mutely. Stephen's smirk was a mile wide. "It'll be hard to keep my hands to myself for four hours but I'll manage," The scientist added, eyes briefly flashing a fluorescent green.

"There are children here," Peter interjected, nervously waving a hand. I gently elbowed Tony, speaking with my eyes rather than words, that Pete was in dire need of emotional support for his first big public event. With a sigh, the engineer relocated to sit next to the spider boy, both of them talking in hushed tones.

"Now, Bruce," I smiled innocently. "Why would I refuse a dance or five to my favourite lab partner in crime?" I winked at him as giggles erupted all around us. "And I'm sure there's a point somewhere about wizards sweeping princesses off their feet," I kept up the banter in hopes that any remaining tension would evaporate before we arrive to the venue.

I, however, couldn't lose all of it for we were absolutely assaulted by the photographers and press as we arrived to the red carpet; it was only sheer luck that me and Wanda didn't stumble ass over heels out of the limo. That luck's name was Loki: her magic delicately helped us to exit the car with grace despite our large gowns. Mental note to buy Loki all the chocolate: add to priority list.

It went about as good as it could. Peter was introduced as a trainee - and nearly had an aneurysm when Tony none-too-kindly corrected the host, calling Peter his protégée and successor. As for little old me? Rising star of biochemical engineering. No titles, no direct titles, but it was heavily implied we were involved.

I could fell the old, white rich men leering at me despite the layers of silk and tulle. Nobody was commenting on my champagne intake so I downed one after the other until I had a comfortable buzz going on. I could absolutely see why female scientists became either reclusive or brash.

Bruce's eyes followed me wherever I went. I had encountered some people I vaguely knew from all the socialite events I had to attend with my mother, so it wasn't as if I was a fish out of the water; it's just that every time I strayed further than ten feet from out group, I instantly grew a tail in the form of one of the Avengers.

"Sam, quit being creepy," I exited the ladies room, immediately spying the handsome man just 'casually' hanging out by a potted plant, glued to his smartphone and pretending to be very busy.

He looked up guiltily, shutting down Minesweeper and pocketing the phone. "Not taking any risks this time 'round, Princess," He offered me his arm, leading us back to our table. "Tony would have my head."

I rolled my eyes, falling into the chair next to Stephen. "My tracker implant is still in and the bracelets Natasha loaned me are actually tasers. Bird, chill," My hand snuck under the tablecloth, blindly groping for Stephen's hand. It didn't take much time for him to respond, cradling my smaller palm in his larger one, offering the small comfort with a tiny tilt to his lips. Both my large skirt and the fabric covering the table aided the secrecy; I felt like a middle schooler sneaking a kiss from my first crush behind the bleachers.

Coupled with the bubbles in my champagne, it made me giddy.

"Sam is just being careful, Princess," Stephen rumbled patiently. "This ball will be over soon."

I snorted, "But Stephen, I love balls," Causing the whole table erupt in bashful snickers.

"Yeah, think to me about it," Wanda downed the remnants of her wine glass, eyes wide, looking to the side. The giggling became a full belly-laugh as I didn't have the decency to play coy. I just smirked because, yeah, I did love me some...

The final hour dragged on forever. My feet hurt from the dancing. I had my suspicions that time would pass faster if I actually move around so I didn't waste the chance and cajoled Bruce into several slow dances with me. The energy between us was electric; I hoped my wife eyes and the red crawling up his neck would be attributed to alcohol. We spoke in hushed tones, about nothing in particular, the words being like sticks we threw into our fire.

Tony wasn't around much, way too busy to do much more than stop by our table every now and then. I both envied and admired him; he handled everything with grace and serendipity. Tony was right there next to Thor and Loki - literal royalty - and I had to pinch myself to prevent myself from ogling him, sighing in lovesickness every goddamn minute.

"If you ever stop looking at him like that, I don't think he'll survive," Stephen's tone was cheeky; his eyes were intense as he looked down at me as we danced. My sorcerer was rarely sappy, but when he found the words to describe his feelings... It was serious.

I met his eyes slowly, letting him soak in the very same admiration and awe I felt when I was with him. I felt his shudder, I heard the hitch in his breath. He wasn't jealous, no, he simply observed. I wanted him to see what I saw. "The day that I stop looking at you all like that is the day that I need to get my head screwed on straight." I wasn't a poet but neither was this a romance novel. "As far as I'm concerned, I won the lottery, the grand prize and the fucking life."

He chuckled. "You have way too much faith in us, Princess," Twirling me as to avoid the out of habit embrace.

Did I, though? I was inclined to disagree. Sure, we had our spits and arguments and sometimes Stephen would stick his cold ass feet under my blankets, Bruce's love for curry was a crime against anyone who slept in the same room as he and Tony routinely flirted with everyone and everything that had a pulse. I had days where my mother's temper surfaced.

Sometimes, one of us would inadvertently hog the other person and the remaining two would pout, roll their eyes or pitch a fit.

I just didn't see it as a big deal. All of those parts were normal - what couldn't be said about the rest of our situation. Compared to couples I've seen around, I thought we're happy. My boyfriends seemed to be happy, too, and if they weren't, it usually was pretty obvious.

So - okay, perhaps we definitely should be working on verbalizing our feelings. That would definitely solve if not world hunger, then at least the world war three that occasionally erupted in Tony's penthouse. And the ups and downs - not the steep kind, but ones not too different from waves rolling ashore - was what held us together. Because, well, our world was hectic and fast-paced and sometimes we needed that gentle rocking motion to sway us back to peace.

Tony's arm on my waist pulled me back to reality, steering me towards the balcony. Bruce and Stephen followed, all four of us power-walking through the inebriated crowd.

"Just so you know, I'm on board with whatever crazy shit you're planning," Stephen raised a palm towards a smirking Tony.

His mouth immediately dropped into a pout I could barely resist kissing. "But... I had a whole speech prepared," The engineer retorted indignantly, discreetly attempting to swat the sorcerer on the ass.

"And I'm sure it was amazing, honey," Bruce placated the upset Tony with a laugh, causing the latter to intensify his pout, eyeing us with mirth over the rim of his glasses, his stupid, lovely face more kissable than ever.

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