#so automatically it’s different but what will make mine interesting? aside from the fact that I want to actually draw them

[the-somwthing]

Thinking of making one of those life series askblogs with all the dead characters in some form of afterlife. They’re really fun and things like that have been in my head since Last Life started so if anyone’s gonna jump on that you know it’s me (especially since I’ve run 3… successful enough ask series in the past).

[omigiry]

𝐑𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞

synopsis: After two years of being apart, reader and Suna met again.

Notes:

College AU

Mentions of break-up and rejection

Osamu and Atsumu playing cupid

POV: Third person (she/her)

wc: 3.9K + (this is longer than what i usually post)

ry’s notes: this was inspired by a webdrama I have watched months ago called Re:feel. It’s one of my favorite webdrama and have watched it a couple of times again. Hope you enjoooy ~  ♡ ♡ ♡

“‘Samu! We’re gonna visit you at work tomorrow.” Atsumu said. The twins we’re hanging out in Suna’s apartment and raiding Suna’s food storage. 

“You never visited for the past 5 months, why bother now?”

They never really cared to visit Osamu and he didn’t mind it at all anyways, they see each other everyday so it wasn’t a big deal. Osamu decided to work as a part-timer at the cafe near their university for the experience. Since he wanted to open up his own store, he wanted to know how everything goes. The cafe was newly opened and owned by a local owner so it wasn’t as busy as the known coffee shops around. 

“My blockmates have been talking non-stop about this dessert that’s available there.” Atsumu said. 

“Ah that, yeah. It’s been getting a lot of attention.” Osamu was working part-time with (y/n). They’d known each other since high school, along with Suna and Atsumu, and he was surprised when he saw her there. She’s been working at the cafe since it opened. (y/n) told Osamu to not tell the two that they were working together and just wait until they also see her there. Knowing what happened in high school, he respected her decision. 

(y/n) was the one who was suggesting a lot of new ideas to the owner for the cafe to gain more attention, and so far, it was getting recognized since her ideas got approved. Osamu was there to help her make the new deserts and drinks they added in the menu along with the other common drinks. It was interesting since she also comes up with witty names for the menu. 

“Whatever. Just don’t embarrass me or I’ll ban you from entering the cafe again.” 

“What’s so great about that dessert anyway?” Suna asked. 

“They said it’s addicting and the chocolate was originally made. Plus the cake looks cute and pretty. Right ‘Samu?” 

Osamu nodded as a response. Seeing the process on how (y/n) made the chocolate really amazed him, they expected the ingredients to be expensive since they were making it from scratch but she knows someone who owns a cacao farm and sells cacao nibs. She was more mature than he’d last seen her and was looking forward to how Suna would react once he sees her again.

When Atsumu and Suna entered the cafe, he was taken aback by the barista who greeted them. 

“(y/n)! You also work here? How have you been?! It’s been two years!” Atsumu excitedly said. He really missed her since they made a lot of memories back in high school despite her being a year younger. “‘Samu why didn’t you tell us?!” Atsumu turned to his twin and got a shrug from him. 

(y/n) laughed at Atsumu’s reaction. “I’m doing fine, and yes it’s been that long. Glad to see you again.” She said and smiled at both Atsumu and Suna. 

Suna was rendered speechless. He could only look at her, he was glad that Atsumu couldn’t keep his mouth shut and talked to (y/n). Has it been two years already? How could you be so casual to me after what happened?

In their senior year of high school, the twins were pointing out to him that they looked good together and how (y/n) likes him. Suna never thought anything of her aside from a close friend and a junior that they care deeply for. He took notice of how she started acting differently towards him when she became a second year.

On valentine’s day she invited him to eat at their favorite place. The twins were telling them that she would probably confess to him on that day, and he’s been thinking over how he would reject her confession. As they eat, everything seems normal. She wasn’t acting nervous or shy around him. She gave him a small box of chocolate as a valentine gift and that was it. Like always, he accompanied her back home and said goodbye once they reached her house.

Right, I was only overthinking things. She doesn’t see me like that. The twins were wrong and saying that she likes me clouded my judgement. 

As he turned the corner of the street, he heard her calling his name. “Rintaro!” She said as she caught up to him, trying to catch her breath after running.

“Did you forget something?” He asked as he came closer to her.

(y/n) shook her head. “I like you.” His breath hitched. What he dreaded would happen actually did. He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship and he really enjoyed her presence and the conversations they exchanged. She’s too precious to him to hurt her, but it’s worse to lead her on. 

“(y/n), I’m sorry but I only see you as a friend and my junior.” Suna said. He saw how the tears formed in her eyes and how she tried to fight it from falling. 

She let out a broken “oh” and said that it was okay, but what she said after that made him feel guilt. “If you really don’t like me, please stop hanging out with me. I like you so much and it would be hard for me to be around you knowing that you don’t reciprocate my feelings. So please, for my sake, start avoiding me and I’ll also do the same.” 

It was honestly hard for Suna, he’d been accustomed to always being next to her that everytime he saw him in the hallways he would automatically wave at her before he could even realize it. It hurt him when she saw the gesture but only walked away. He was jealous of the twins whenever they hung out with her, he didn’t know how he’d survived their last year of high school.

“Surprised ‘ya didn’t it?” Osamu said as they watched Atsumu and (y/n) catch up with each other. (y/n) took her break earlier per Atsumu’s request to talk with her. 

“You’re a jerk for not telling me.”

“Hey, it was her decision not mine.” Osamu defended.

“How is she?” Suna asked him. 

Osamu looked at him with his arms crossed. “She’s over there. Why don’t you ask her yourself?” 

“If you’re worried that she isn’t over you, trust me she already is, she already has a boyfriend.” Osamu added.

Suna’s brows furrowed and the instinct to be protective towards her clicked on. Who was the guy? Does he treat her right? What year is he? He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt something boiled inside him. Was he upset for not knowing about her boyfriend, or was he upset over the fact that she has a boyfriend?

Suna took a seat next to Atsumu when a customer entered and Osamu had to attend to the customer. They were talking about (y/n)’s course and the university she was in. 

“Glad you could join us.” Atsumu said sarcastically, he knows that he’s been avoiding her since the moment they entered the cafe and saw her. 

“How are you, Surin?” (y/n) asked. She used the nickname she would always call him combining his last name and first name. It annoyed him at first, but it eventually grew on him. She kept the conversation going and it ease up the uncomfortable feeling that settled in him. 

She really did move on. She looked the same, but somehow different. 

After (y/n)’s break was over, it was Osamu’s turn to take his break. Atsumu and Suna decided to stay until they closed up, wanting to spend more time with (y/n).

“She really grew up even more wonderful.” Atsumu commented as they watched her make the customer’s order. 

“You do realize that you two look like a creep staring at her right?” Osamu said. 

“It’s no fair, you already had 5 months of catching up with her.” 

As the twins started bickering, Suna tuned them out. His thoughts were only filled with her, curious of what happened to her for the past two years. His chin resting on his palm as he watched her smile at the customers when she took their order. 

You decided to grow your hair. Back in high school you would always cut it short. He couldn’t help but make a comparison of (y/n) from high school and (y/n) that they met today. Your eyes still shine whenever you smile and you still have a habit of tucking your hair behind your ears despite having your hair in a ponytail. 

When the twins noticed that Suna had been oddly quiet, they stopped bickering and looked at their friend and started whispering to each other about Suna instead.

“He got it bad ‘Tsumu.” 

“I know ‘Samu, guess he really doesn’t know his feelings well.”

Suna started visiting the cafe frequently and dragging Atsumu along with the excuse of wanting to wait for Osamu or wanting to try out their special drinks. In truth Suna just wanted to see her more often, since she was attending a different university from them. 

Suna was glad that they had reconciled and put aside what happened back in high school. Everything felt right again, like how they were before, except for one. Suna has this unsettling feeling that was growing. Not really knowing where it started but it keeps on bothering him.

“Wanna grab dinner after our shift later?” Atsumu asked (y/n).

“I’ll pass. I’ll be meeting up with my boyfriend. It’s been two weeks since we last saw and talked to each other.”

Suna’s expression changed at (y/n)’s response. His mood went sour at the mention of her boyfriend, not only that it was from the fact that her boyfriend had neglected her for two weeks.

“Two weeks? That’s long. As in you didn’t communicate with each other at all?” Atsumu said, voicing out what Suna wanted to say as well.

“Yeah, he’s always busy when they had a project and he would always tell me that he’d have no time to see me or talk to me.” (y/n) said. Though she was smiling at them, Suna could sense a little bit of disappointment lacing from her voice.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I guess so, he would always take me out once he’s free. He might be busy but he never cheated.” 

“Still. That doesn’t give an excuse to not message you once in a while.” 

“It’s okay. I understand that he’s taking his course seriously.”

You’re too kind. Suna thought. She’s always been kind and understanding to others, which led them to take advantage of her. 

“D’ya know about this Osamu?” Atsumu asked her brother.

“Yeah, sometimes he would visit the cafe with flowers in his hands.” (y/n) blushed at Osamu’s reply. 

At her reaction Suna was sure the root problem of this unsettling feeling was coming from (y/n)’s boyfriend. They only talked about her boyfriend once or twice since the topic wasn’t always brought out. Atsumu was curious about who the guy was and (y/n) filled him in, Suna was just listening but he took note of everything she said about her boyfriend, one thing that he really remembers is that they have been together for a year and a half.

As they were closing up, someone entered the cafe. Suna and Atsumu turned to see who it was and suddenly saw (y/n) coming up to the guy who just entered with flowers on his hand. Suna’s scowl got deeper and their interaction.

“Not gonna lie, he is attractive. But you look better than him.” Atsumu said and nudged Suna.

Osamu came up to them and told them to wait outside since they are now closing up the doors. (y/n) did the same to her boyfriend, the three of them waiting outside.

“So, you’re Suna Rintaro.” (y/n)’s boyfriend approached them first and Suna just nodded at him. “Thanks for taking care of (y/n) in high school.” He said. The way he acts irritated both Atsumu and Suna. But they remained silent since it was (y/n)’s boyfriend after all. 

“Treat her right.” Suna simply warned when Osamu came out before (y/n) did. 

(y/n) said goodbye to the three of them and linked arms with her boyfriend.

Atsumu and Osamu exchanged glances as Suna showed his emotions. Something that rarely happens, something that only occurs when (y/n) is involved.

It’s been over a month since they have met (y/n)’s boyfriend in person. Suna still visits the cafe for at least thrice a week with or without Atsumu. (y/n) has been happy so far and it eases up his worry, but he still feels hostile towards her boyfriend. During the month he’d catch him also visiting the cafe from time to time as he waits for her to finish. After that month he rarely sees her boyfriend again.

“Your boyfriend’s not gonna wait for you?” He asked her when she was cleaning up the counter. 

“No, he’s going to be busy again, and this time it will be for 5 weeks.” She said with a sullen expression. If Suna didn’t know any better, he would miss how her eyes looked tired.

“Well, if you ever want to go out you know we’ll be glad to do so.” 

“Yeah, I really do miss you three, I’m glad that we met again.” She gave him a tight smile as she tried to be cheerful.

“Are you seriously not going to do anything?” The twins are at Suna’s apartment once again.

Suna looked at Atsumu when he asked the question. Why would he interfere on (y/n)’s relationships? He may care for her, but there’s still a boundary that he should not cross; even if he’s itching to really do something about it. 

“It’s not like I could do anything.” 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe talk some sense into her? She’s obviously not happy being neglected. She may hold up, but everyone’s got their limits too.” Atsumu said, moving his hands around showing how frustrated he is.

“If you’re that frustrated, why don’t you be the one to do something?” Suna retorted.

“Because, I’m not the one who likes her.” 

“Are you forgetting that I rejected her two years ago?” As he mentioned about that event, he winced. 

“Maybe you’re the one forgetting about it.” Osamu butted in. “You’ve been acting jealous lately. Especially when her boyfriend visits the cafe. I would see you looking at him as if you’re throwing daggers.” 

“Just admit it Suna, you’ve caught feelings, since before.”

Suna kept his mouth shut and reflected his actions for the past weeks since he met her again.

I didn’t really stop thinking about her for the past two years. She would visit my mind from time to time, curious of how she was doing. And the first time I saw her again, I felt like a heavy baggage had been lifted off me when she smiled.

“Come to a realization now?” Atsumu said. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing. I can’t control her choices, if she ever feels sad or lonely I’ll be there.” 

“You’re so stupid for rejecting her.” Osamu interjected. 

“How was I supposed to know? I really did see her only as my junior back then.” Suna defended. People would ask if they were a couple by how close they were, and Suna always says that there’s nothing going on between them. Did we really look like a couple back then? I was only looking out for her. But now, how he wished that he’s the one being by her side all the time and the one who brings her flowers.

Osamu came to work and saw (y/n) looking dazed. She would usually greet him once he entered but she might not even see him entering the cafe. 

“(y/n)? Are you alright?” Osamu asked as he waved a hand in front of her.

She snapped out of it and jumped in surprise. “Oh, hey ‘Samu. I’m fine. I just feel sleepy, that’s all.” 

“Go rest for awhile, I’ll take it from here.” He didn’t believe her excuse, he could clearly tell that she’s been listless for the past two weeks. She might have reached her limit already.

“No, I can manage.” 

Osamu nodded and put his belongings in the staff room, he sent a quick text to Atsumu and Suna to come over to the cafe and informed them about (y/n)’s condition. 

After their shift, they drag along (y/n) to a karaoke place to make her feel better. 

“You guys. Thank you so much for this.” (y/n) said and hugged them all together. She really felt crappy the entire week and she’s been going through a lot. 

After a few songs, they started feeling hungry so they ordered some food and drinks. 

(y/n) really wanted to have fun but she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She sobbed at the second verse of the song she was singing and they immediately tended to her. 

“What’s wrong?” Suna was the first one to ask as he grabbed the mic from her. 

“I broke up with him.”

“What happened?” Osamu said, the atmosphere was now serious as they comforted her. 

“We had a fight. I’m friends with one of his classmates so we met up last week.” She was telling the story in broken sobs, her voice cracking as she speaks but she wanted to get it out of her chest. “She told me that if I miss him I should go see him. So I did visit him and their study group. I wasn’t planning on staying, I was just there to drop by some snacks, then we had an argument saying that he’s busy and that I shouldn’t see him. And I just had it, and broke up with him.”

“He deserves it.” Atsumu said, his fist clenched, wanting to punch the guy that made her cry. All of them were fuming in anger, and Suna really wanted to teach the guy a lesson. They let her cry and waited for her to calm down. Suna tugged her closer to him as he rubs her shoulder.

“It was a wise decision, communication is important in every relationship no matter how busy that person might be.” 

They brought her home and made sure she rested, Osamu even offered to cover her shift for tomorrow but she declined saying that she would be fine by tomorrow.

True to her words she pulled herself together. Being able to talk about it really helped, and the guys left her messages during that night. It was uplifting for her when they sent them jokes, she was glad that they didn’t dwell on the topic more. A few words of advice and them being there was already enough.

Weeks later, she was making progress moving on. It still hurts but the distraction of work, school, and her friends made her forget about it. She gave to him her hundred percent in their relationship, she’s not going to blame herself for lacking. 

Osamu went home early since he still needed to finish his papers that were due tomorrow. Suna stayed behind to walk (y/n) home. As she closed up the cafe, her ex- boyfriend came. 

(y/n) was taken by surprise, nevertheless she decided to approach her ex-boyfriend.

Suna did not like it when she told him to wait for a while. He could barely hear what they were talking, but he could hear her ex saying that he wants her back and that he still loves her. Suna’s face remains blank trying to contain himself from doing something reckless, like pulling (y/n) away from that guy and telling him that she doesn’t need him.

As Suna was observing from a distance, he could see that (y/n) was smiling at her ex.

Why are you smiling? Are you getting back together? He just broke your heart, you’re going to forgive him again?

Questions run through his mind as he panics inside. It’s making it hard for him to stay stoic at situations like this. What surprises him is that (y/n) left the guy and went to him.

“Wanna grab a drink?” She asked. Suna agreed and let her lead the way.

They went to a convenience store and bought drinks as they sat at the chairs outside. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Suna carefully asked.

“He said that he wants me back, and he still loves me.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I do.” When Suna heard her answer it felt like he was stabbed in the heart. “But, not as much as before. Not enough to want him back.” 

Suna whipped his head when she continued her sentence. Maybe I still have a chance.

“I ask him if he’s going to change his ways when he gets busy. I saw the brief hesitation in his eyes before saying that he would try. And you know what, I wouldn’t settle for less, so I said that it was really over.” She looked at Suna and smiled sincerely. Suna was captivated by her smile and the way her eyes gleam, finally feeling at peace. 

Before he could even stop himself, before he could even process what he said, it came out naturally from his lips. The feelings he didn’t know he bottled up inside for so long had finally burst open. “I like you.” There’s no turning back now.

For the second time, (y/n) was taken by surprise. At first she thought that he was only joking, but he didn’t say anything after that, which meant he was serious about it. 

“Rintaro, I’m not looking for any relationship right now.”

“I know. But I’m not gonna run away or push you away like you did. I’m going to stay.” He claimed. He lost her for two years, and he’s not going to let it happen again. He’ll keep the important people within his reach, he’s going to keep her by his side even if they’ll only be friends.

“It’s getting late, why don’t we go home.” She said. She stood up and stretched a little, it was an eventful night for her. “My apartment is just around the block, I can take it from here. Good night, Surin. See you tomorrow.” She smiled at him and waved goodbye. Suna returned her smile and slowly lifted his hand to wave as well. He felt defeated, but it was what to expect.

+++

Suna was at the cafe again, this time (y/n) was in front of him. They were talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. (y/n) asked Suna to try the new drink she made, she also took a sip of her drink and the froth left a mark on her upper lips. He removed the froth using his thumb, as he gazed at her lips and then her eyes his body leaned closer, closer, and clos---

“Oi!” Atsumu said as he smacked his notebook on top of Suna’s head. “Why are you leaning closer to me? With your eyes closed and puckered lips.” He shivered at the thought. “It gives me the creeps.”

Osamu, watching from the distance, could only shake his head. He was cleaning the cups while (y/n) was washing the blenders. 

“Poor guy, experiencing unrequited love. He might get a sickness from it.” Osamu said loud enough for her to hear. “If I don’t like him, I would’ve told him already to keep him from suffering.” He glanced at her to see her reaction. 

There was a small smile forming on her lips as she softly replied “Who said I didn’t like him?” Before drying her hands with a towel and went to check up on their inventory. 

[narcisismomaterno]

What is it to be daugther/son of a narcissistic mother/father?

(painting not mine)

First of all, the most difficult thing when talking about a personality disorder that is very common is to stop with the taboo: but wait, are you talking about parents? Are you talking about your mother? Narcissistic mothers?! People do not stop to think about it because we make motherhood untouchable, because it is the "duty of every woman to be a mother" and "naturally every mother loves her children".

Reports already heard from some people prove that this is not so true. Even mothers have already said how difficult it was in the first few months to love the one who was born from them, because the connection is not always created and love does not arise overnight. EVEN MORE when the mother has traumas with maternity. This is just a fact that highlights how mothers are not born loving their children and mothers are not even untouchable and naturally respectable beings because respect is earned through their attitudes.

What can be extremely difficult for many - especially those who have few difficulties with their parents - is to understand that not everything is a flower inside the house, not everything is a flower inside each one, of each human being, and giving birth does not make you IMMUNE from having a personality disorder.

When talking about narcissistic people, without mentioning the field of narcissistic mothers and fathers, everything goes MUCH more easily. Because? This is because it is much simpler to see that a person can be a narcissist when he is your boyfriend, your friend, a distant relative... But when is your father or mother?! Or someone else's father / mother? Well, well... here I take you to reflect. That people you can call a narcissist because they fit exactly what a narcissist is, but who is neither your father nor your mother, that people will never be a father or mother? And when they become, they automatically stop being narcissistic? Can you understand?

The hole is very deep. The question that ends up differentiating a narcissist from a narcissistic mother or father is that naturally our parents have guardianship over us, which is right and it is necessary, because until some point in our lives we do not know what we want and we need advice and the creation of them, which is even very fundamental in the construction of our personality. However, what about when our father or mother is narcissistic and they do not fulfill this role of caring for us, of giving us what is necessary in every way? Be it in the sense of what is established by law, or in the sense of what it is morally expected that a father and mother give to their children: love, affection, care, encouragement. After all, the world is already too perverse for our parents to be the main ones to destroy our self-esteem and hope in ourselves, don't you agree?

At least we should be able to see that more easily.

The point is that a narcissist does not love anyone but himself, just remember the Narcissus myth and why that is the name of personality disorder. If a person is narcissistic and becomes a mother or father, the one they have brought into the world becomes nothing more than an "object" of manipulation and an attempt to expose people to their prestige as a mother or father. Everything that works is thanks to her / him. Social status matters, what is seen only from the outside matters, but WHY? Because the children will add to how important that narcissistic person will also be viewed as important.

The narcissist actually seems to love himself a lot, he validates himself more than anyone else, his sense of empathy is zero, but he doesn't love himself, he needs an admiration from the outside, and the one who is "his child" will be appreciated and loved as long as the child put her desires aside to supply the narcissistic person (to give him narcissistic supply), only then will that being be worth something. And it will not be a permanent, eternal value, it will be valid until the next time the mother / father narcissist needs the child to soften his ego.

Now, if is it the case of you needing to be praised? Don't expect it.

Is it the case of you, daughter, son, needing to receive an incentive? Don't expect it too.

Going further, what a narcissistic person's children ends up having to face are very strange competitive behaviors when they starts to grow up. Grow with all the changes that come within the package: start to become interested in people; changing body, therefore, receiving more attention; start to grow more intellectually, and simply be becoming a person, be getting to know yourself and be in search of building a life, something new.

Because before adolescence, it is natural that all of our parameters of being come from our parents and our environment. However, not everyone should be everything that their parents want them to be. You can have OWN choices and decisions for your life that conflict with your parents', and as long as that is your inner will, there is nothing wrong with that.

What happens from that moment on is that the narcissist feels offended to see a person having the opportunity to grow and create their network of relationships, their bonds, their individuality, freedom. And the person starts to live in a prison. In different ways, this mother or father begins to suffocate the person and every time a fight occurs because they provoked it themselves, they will say with great desire that the fault is of the daughter, the son. They will say that the daughter or son is a mistake and only disappoints. And, obviously, at least at first, the son/daughter will see that it is exactly that: it is their fault and their majestic father or mother, naturally incredible, are just saying everything for their good. Yes, criticizing you for something silly, that is to want your good, you can be sure.

Why do they act like that? For these attitudes [to be growing, to be building a personality, to start going out into the world, to gain freedom] are seen as a threat to the narcissist's life. They will stop having someone to force to admire them. And also because that person is becoming someone that deserves praise.

It is so childish and immature. And you can be sure that outside you will meet a very kind person, but if you are the victim of it all, you will be the one of the few (if not the only one) to see the real face of the narcissist.

Do you recognize that there are narcissistic people around the world, but you can't admit that there are narcissistic mothers or fathers? Why?

Are you inundated with taboo? What makes you one more that repeats to the world that all parents are good, without noticing that it makes it difficult for those who suffer with a narcissist?

It is not by being a mother or father that a person ceases to be narcissistic. In fact, the struggle to see narcissism when a person is a mother or father is even greater.

Not every mother is good.

Not every father is good.

[moon-stars01]

~Sugar Rush~

Hoshi x Reader

Author:pseudomint

Summary: Kwon soonyoung finds himself becoming a regular customer in a local ice cream shop after meeting mingyu’s cute co-worker. Sounds normal—unless you leave out the fact that he dislikes sweets.

Pairing:Hoshi(Svt) x reader

Gene:Collage/University,Ice Cream polar,attempt at humor,flirting,Smitten Hoshi,Mingyu third wheeling,Jun and his pick up lines

Rating:Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count:6100

———————-

~SUGAR RUSH~

Hoshi stares at the cute, pastel building, decorated with stickers of ice cream illustrations on the big, glass windows and door. He checks his phone screen once again, only to see the exact picture of the building he found on the internet glaring back at him mockingly.

This is the place. He finally knows where Mingyu’s secret workplace is. Don’t ask him where he got the address from (he might have.. owed a certain pink haired devil named Jeonghan). All he has to do now is to storm inside the ice cream shop and make fun of Mingyu for all it’s worth.

Being friends with that guy for a long time, Hoshi has a vague idea of why would Mingyu hide his workplace. The guy has always been vocal about his worship for anything hip-related, evident by his love for classic Pop, several ear piercings, and fashion style. He’s studying art so that he can become a tattoo artist. Moreover, he has a history as a delinquent back in middle school.

So, working in a local, cute ice cream shop near their campus might not be included in Mingyu’s list of Top 10 Dream Jobs, even as a part-timer.

Hoshi stifles a grin as he pushes the door open, earning a chime from the bell above. The shop is quite vacant, save for three customers, minding their own businesses in three different seats, the ice cream on their plates or cups half-eaten. One of them is bobbing their head to the popular pop song that is heard through the wall speakers. As Hoshi continues to scan the pastel themed shop, his eyes finally land on the glass display, filled with various flavors and colors of ice cream.Hoshi can already feel a toothache—he’s never been a fan of sweets, after all.

Noticing the absence of the employees behind the counters, Hoshi spots a bell placed beside the cash register. His hand hovers above it, uncertain whether calling the shop clerk with a damn bell is even polite—obviously, this isn’t some kind of five-star gourmet restaurant. Not that Hoshi has ever been into one.

Thankfully, before Hoshi could dive further into his impromptu crisis, an employee emerges from the back door. He’s wearing a pastel blue uniform shirt and a pink apron with the shop’s logo on the left side of his chest. Such soft colors, contrast with the dark scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?” Mingyu snarls, clearly aggravated by the mere of Hoshi’s presence alone.

And Hoshi can’t hold it back anymore. He laughs, folding his body in half, one hand clutching his gut as the other supports himself by gripping the counter. Fuck, this is funnier than he initially thought. No matter how he imagined it, the image of Mingyu and a cute ice cream shop just can’t be merged. Yet, here he is—the reality presented right before Hoshi’s eyes.Hoshi wheezes again.

“Stop fucking laughing,” Mingyu hisses, hands clenching on both of his sides. His face is flushed from anger with a mixture of embarassment. “This is why I’d never fucking tell you about this place!”

“Oh, it’s never about the place, ‘Mingyu,”Hoshi replies, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “It’s always been about you.”

Mingyu growls. “I’m seriously gonna kick you out.”

“I’m a paying customer,” Hoshi smirks back. “Treat me like one.”

“Then act like one,” Mingyu snaps, folding his arms across his chest, frown deepening. “Though I bet you can’t even handle the sweetness.”“Gimme the menu.”

“There’s one behind me, written on the chalkboard, asshole.”

“Wow, brilliant customer service,” Hoshi deadpans. “Don’t you have the printed one or something?”

“Aren’t you spoiled?” the hipster grumbles as he magically pulls out a menu, printed on a laminated paper from behind the counter. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to slap it against Hoshi’s chest.The act, however, is caught by one of Mingyu’s co-worker who’s suddenly coming out of the back room.

“Mingyu-oppa! Why did you do that to a customer?!” She screeches, horrified at her oppa’s rude behavior. She’s way shorter than Mingyu, and shorter than Kazuya. She has a (h/s) (h/c) hair that somehow looks soft and fluffy as the strands bounce everytime she moves.When their eyes finally meet,Hoshi’s lost the ability to speak.

Now, Hoshi’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, albeit having heard the idea of it in many sappy romance films. Hoshi’s also met many girls he considers as good-looking, but that’s it. There were no imaginary flowers or love-shaped bubbles or sprinkles of glitters around them, like a typical page of shoujo mangas. He didn’t feel his heart pounding harshly against his ribcages. He’s positive that he had never blushed at someone without any good reason.But his cheeks have never felt warmer than this moment.

The girl in front of him is unbelievably cute; she has an air of innocence around her that makes Hoshi want to scoop her up (no ice cream puns intended) in his arms and pinch those slightly chubby, round cheeks. Her cute button nose is perfect for a nose boop, and oh, how Hoshi wishes to nip her pink, plump lips.The girl’s tongue darts out to lick the very same lips, before she opens her mouth.

“Um.. are you okay? Is my co-worker hurting you?” She asks, brows furrowing in worry. Hoshi forces himself to look at her in the eyes, which is apparently a bad decision, because for the love of baseball, he’s never seen someone having such beautiful, molten e/c eyes—

“He’s fine,” Mingyu answers, shooting Hoshi a knowing look. “Sadly, I gotta admit that he’s a friend of mine, so don’t worry about him, y/n.”

“Oh!” Y/n brightens up, giving Hoshi an impression of a cute dog perking up its ears and wagging its tail. “Finally this l/n y/n gets to meet one of Mingyu-oppa’s friends!” She says joyfully with a voice a bit too loud. “May I also have the honor of knowing your name?”

Hoshi briefly glances at Mingyu, as if asking whether he should be concerned of Y/n’s odd, archaic way of speaking, but Mingyu’s expression works as a wordless assurance that it’s nothing to be worried about.Then, after eyeing Y/n’s extended arm as an offer for a handshake, Hoshi takes it firmly with a smirk.

“The name’s Kwon Soonyoung but you can call me Hoshi,” he purrs, his thumb tracing a circle on the back of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”His smirk broadens when a blush blooms on the girl’s cheeks.

“Uh—likewise!” Y/n retracts her hand too quickly. “Um, I’ll let you proceed with your order with Mingyu-oppa—“

“The thing is,” Hoshi cuts her off, leaning on the counter, showing a feigned, saddest expression on his face. “Mingyu was bullying me,” he sighs. The said guy promptly sputters a series of denials. “And this is my first time here. I think I deserve a discount for the bad customer service, don’t you think?”

Y/n lets out a scandalized gasp, giving Mingyu a nasty, chiding glare for treating their customer poorly, even if they’re ‘friends.’ “Then you have my approval!” She declares, jabbing a proud thumb at her own chin. “Don’t worry! I’ll tell boss about the discount later! Now, please pick any flavors!”Hoshi’s mouth twitches as a bubble of laughter arises from his chest. This kid is so gullible, so genuine, so interesting. He almost feels bad for tricking him.Mingyu kicks Y/n’s legs, “Idiot! Can’t you see that he’s tricking you?!”

When y/n shoots a puzzled look at Hoshi, Hoshi’s laughter breaks free from his mouth. In return, he gets a bristling y/n who goes out of her way to be on the other side of the counter just to shake Hoshi’s collar and send him colorful insults. Not the most professional thing an employee should do to a customer, but it’s worth for Hoshi’s own entertainment.In the end, Hoshi’s the one who gets kicked out of the shop before he causes more commotions.

Hoshi comes back at Mingyu’s next shift, mentally convincing himself that he’s here to annoy the hell out of the hipster, not because Mingyu accidentally reveals the fact that y/n has the same schedule with him.Yeah, right.

He peeks over the big windows, and hesitates. The shop is more crowded than his last visit, as expected from weekends. It’s mostly filled with couples and giggling high school girls. Hoshi decides to sit on the unoccupied outdoor seats by the window, waiting for the beeline to lessen.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the patrons to decrease. By the time he enters the shop, the jingle of the doorbell earns him an automatic response from y/n who’s not even looking at the door. “Welcome to—“ she glances at Hoshi, then frowns. “—oh, it’s you.”

“Oh? Do I see another bad customer service?” Hoshi smirks, strutting closer the counter.

“I’ll show you customer service,” Mingyu threatens, glowering at him.

Hoshi holds up his hands in defense, grinning, “easy there, ‘Mingyu”

“So, are you going to order, Kwon Soonyoung?” Y/n squints at him in suspicion. Pushing aside his inner glee of noticing a mundane detail such as Y/n remembering his full name, Hoshi ponders of giving her an honest reply or not. Will they kick him out once again if he admits that he can barely handle sweet things?

“Hoshi?” Y/n’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his previous scorn is replaced with an owlish blinking. It makes Kazuya more aware of how y/n’s long eyelashes brush her cheeks whenever she closes her eyelids for a brief second.Pretty.“Hoshi!”Hoshi coughs and answers distractedly. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll order something.”

Mingyu stares at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, but it’s more like that he can’t seem to grasp that Hoshi, of all people, agrees to order something sweet.

“You sound uncertain, but worry not! The ice cream here will change your mind,” Y/n chirps with an eye smile. Hoshi can feel a thousand of cupid arrows piercing through his fragile, gay heart.

“Right, because Hoshi absolutely loves ice cream,” Mingyu mutters under his breath beside his co-worker with a blatant sarcastic tone.Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it, much to Hoshi’s relief.

“So...” Hoshi drawls, scrutinizing the menu near the cash register. “Do you have a flavor that isn’t too...” he grimaces at the next word, “sweet?”

“That’s impossible, go home.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mingyu.”

“I can recommend you some,” Y/n replies, ignoring Mingyu and Hoshi’s glaring contest. “We have wasabi flavor, bitter melon flavor—“

“Some extreme recommendations you have there,” Hoshi sweatdrops.

“Hey! They taste fine, I guess,” Y/n looks hesitant herself. Hoshi wonders if the girl even understands basic marketing strategies—she could’ve at least pretended to be confident with her promotion. “I mean, I’m sure they’re better than natto flavored ice cream or anything.”

“You hate natto?” Hoshi smiles in amusement, inwardly happy to know one fact about Y/n.

“I despise it!” Y/n huffs, not even bothering to conceal her disgust. “Anyway! If you’re not interested with our out-of-the-world flavors, maybe you’d love our triple shot espresso ice cream! If you’re still not convinced, we still have a variety of diet frozen yogurts that are guaranteed to be low-sugar!”Hoshi hums at the mention of anything caffeine-related, “triple shot espresso ice cream doesn’t sound bad. Get me the smallest cup, y/n.”

“Roger!” Y/n beams, giving a military salute before she busies herself with Hoshi’s order. Her moves behind the counter are swift, practiced, and surprisingly not clumsy. Her hips sway a little to the beat of the music—whose great idea it is to play a suggestive jazz music at a fucking ice cream shop in Saturday afternoon?—but Hoshi’s not really complaining. In fact, he enjoys the show a bit too much; he doesn’t even realize that he’s been propping one arm on the counter to support his chin while watching y/n with a mushy smile.“Wipe that disgusting expression off your face,” Mingyu comments, unimpressed.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? As if I could overlook someone who looks like they’re seconds away from jumping my co-worker in public!” Mingyu hisses this time, still considerate enough to lower his volume.“Don’t worry, I’ll do that in private,” Hoshi winks.

“That’s not what I—“

“Do you want any additional toppings, Hoshi?” Y/n unintentionally interrupts their bickering. She’s now holding a small paper cup of a coffee-colored ice cream, head slightly to the side in an adorable manner, waiting for Hoshi’s response.

Although Hoshi’s brain is already short-circuited due to the amount of metaphorical sweetness that Y/n radiates, he still manages to croak out a reply of “almonds are fine”, in hoping that if the ice cream is still too sweet for his liking, the almonds would be able to balance the sugar.

Mingyu handles the payment without initiating any arguments with Hoshi for once, probably wanting to speed up the process of Hoshi leaving the shop. Either way, Hoshi has to leave indeed. He has other things to do, too.

“Thank you for purchasing, please come again~” come a chorus of synchronized phrase from Mingyu and Y/n; the former sounding bored and forced, while the latter sounding more cheerful.“I will,” Hoshi retorts jocosely, then flicks his gaze over Y/n, “if Y/n calls me her oppa, too.”

“Okay, Hoshi-oppa,” y/n breathes out without missing a beat. Her face instantly bursts into a myriad shades of red, complemented by a small, shy smile etched on her lips, and-Hoshi suddenly thinks he has a severe case of heart palpitations.

He inhales sharply, and turns his heels towards the door. “It’s decided, then,” he chuckles over his shoulder, giving his last smirk towards y/n, and exits the shop.

(He eats his ice cream on the way to his apartment and is genuinely surprised at the rich taste of coffee instead of sugar.It adds one more reason to visit the shop again.)

 Hoshi’s next visit includes an unwanted guest, much to Hoshi’s distaste.

For a better term, he was following Hoshi in secret. Usually, Hoshi would easily sense something behind his back, but the particular street that the ice cream shop is located at is always busy. It’s to be expected from a street that connects commercial, academic and several residential buildings. That being said, the crowd of people makes it hard for Hoshi to notice whether someone is following him or not.In the end, Jun makes his presence known loudly by the time he enters the shop.

“Oi, Hoshi! You refused to hang out with me just to buy some ice cream?!” he stomps his foot on the ground. “Wait, I thought you don’t like ice—“

Hoshi, who’s currently leaning on the counter right in front of Y/n, automatically massages the bridge of his nose and quickly interjects the purple haired before he spouts something unnecessary. “Jun, did you really follow me all the way here?”

“Does it matter?” the purple haired shrugs, sticking his nose up in the air. “I’m here now. That’s what you get from ditching me.”

Hoshi sighs in exasperation, “I did not ditch you. I told you to reschedule our hang out.”

“Same thing,” Jun scoffs stubbornly.

Mingyu bashes his forehead on the counter, emitting a depressed aura all over the shop. “Great. There goes all of my peace at work.”

“Oh, Mingyu! Fancy meeting you here!” Jun greets with a grin. “So you’re the reason why Hoshi’s here?”

“No,” both Mingyu and Hoshi say flatly.

“Um, are you going to order?” Y/n, who’s been observing the situation, speaks up, attracting a pair of black orbs towards him. Then, Jun regards Hoshi and Y/n, back and forth, in a thoughtful manner.

“Oh ho? I see now,” he grins wickedly, elbowing Hoshi to the side and takes over his place, resulting in the dancer stumbling and hitting the glass display of ice cream. Paying no attention to Hoshi’s heated glare, Jun leans over the counter and brings his face closer to Y/n. “You’re pretty cute, I guess. Hoshi has a good taste.”Y/n makes a choking noise from her throat, and Hoshi’s left eye twitches.

“Who the heck are you?” Y/n scrunches her nose, taking one step backwards defensively.

“Wen Junhui, but you can call me darling,” Jun smiles flirtatiously. Y/n only stares back with a palpable discomfort on her face.

“...Then, are you going to order?” She repeats hesitantly.

“Sure. As long as you’re included as the bonus.”

“Uh,” y/n frowns deeper. “May I know the flavor of your choice?”

“Anything would do,” Jun answers, “but if you were an ice cream, you’d be my favorite flavor.”

“What?”

“And I know you’d like me too,” jun then lowers his voice into a whisper, like he’s going to tell the world’s deepest secret, “because I have an 8” popsicle down there.”

Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, finding the whole situation amusing and ridiculous. Any other day, Hoshi would, too, but right now, he only feels a second-hand embarassment from Jun’s abhorrent pick-up lines. Even y/n looks utterly unimpressed by Jun’s flirting.

“Alright, Jun, that’s enough,” Hoshi interjects impatiently. “No one wants to know about your nonexistent 8” popsicle dick.”Mingyu laughs louder.

“Tch, you’re no fun, Hoshi,” Jun glares at him childishly, then whirls his body towards Y/n crossing his arms in his usual bossy manner. “Fine, I’ll order something. Get me a big cup of butterscotch and vanilla ice cream with marshmallows and oreos on top.”

“...Coming right up,” slightly taken aback by the change of attitude, y/n mutters and wordlessly scoops the ice cream into the cup, while Hoshi is inwardly cringing from the amount of sugar Jun’s order has.

The purple haired pays and finally leaves the shop, not before gesturing a V-sign to his eyes and then to Hoshi’s—indicating that their conversation isn’t over.

Hoshi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be discussed in the first place,” he mumbles under his breath. Jun dragged himself into this situation. Then again, Hoshi’s known Jun long enough to tell that the purple haired wasn’t seriously flirting with Y/n. The dancer could properly make his fangirls swoon if he wanted to.

Looking back to his prior act, however... it’s almost as if he was testing Hoshi, because his eyes were holding a familiar knowing gleam—the exact glint in Mingyu ’s eyes when Hoshi first met y/n.

“But seriously, who is he?!” Y/n fumes. “I can’t believe he made a dick joke straight to my face!”

“He’s Hoshi’s ex,” Mingyu grins, nudging

y/n with his elbow. The younger blanches, mouth gaping upon hearing the information.

“Yup, and I’m totally dating you, Mingyu,” Hoshi rolls his eyes.

“R-really?!” Y/n’s eyes grow as wide as a saucer. Hoshi bites back a grin, almost forgetting how gullible Y/n is.

“Relax, we’re lying,” he snorts. “Can I take my order now?”

“Oh, right!” Y/n straightens her back, although she doesn’t seem to be convinced by Hoshi’s reassurance.

Hoshi selects the exact menu he ordered on his last visit, although this time he chooses a cone rather than a paper cup. He also makes a mental note to try another variety of topping next time.

“You two looks close,” y/n comments all of a sudden as she works behind the counter. It doesn’t take a genius to know who Y/n is talking about.“Jun’s my childhood friend,” Hoshi

smiles, quirking an eyebrow at Y/n’s pout. She’s sulking, for some unknown reason, albeit Hoshi has a silly, vague (and hopeful) idea of it. “Rest assured, there’s nothing between us,” Hoshi continues, watching how Y/n subtly relaxes her shoulders. “That goes for me and Mingyu, too,” she adds as an afterthought. Mingyu has never nodded so aggresively.

“That explains why you guys are on a first name basis,” Y/n says abashedly, avoiding Hoshi’s gaze. “B-but! Your relationship is none of my business, of course! This

l/n y/n was just curious, please forgive me for prying!”

Still blushing, she shoves the cone under Hoshi’s nose. Hoshi chuckles and takes it, purposely brushing their fingers together, deepening y/n’s blush. Satisfaction sprouts inside his chest—even without any cheesy pick-up lines, y/n’s naturally a blushing mess around him.Adorable.

“This is sickening to watch,” Mingyu groans, “now pay up, bastard.”

Out of reflex, Hoshi gives him another snide remarks about bad customer service (again), to which Mingyu retaliates with another empty threats.

The doorbell jingles as two chatting customers enter the shop, and at the same time, it’s Hoshi’s cue to leave. He looks back at Y/n, who’s unexpectedly staring at him in silence, and grins cheekily when Y/n flinches due to being caught.“See you next time,” Hoshi says in soft tone, before he playfully boops y/n’s on the nose.

Y/n doesn’t—can’t—reply because she has to serve the next customers, but she manages to send a meek smile towards Hoshi’s direction.

Fuck, Hoshi thinks later, as he ambles back to his place. He can’t believe he finally had the balls to nose boop y/n. He can’t erase y/n’s blushing face from his mind. He can’t stop smiling giddily right now—passersby are probably whispering about him, but he couldn’t care less.All he cares is that he’s honestly in some deep shit.

~~~~~~

 Hoshi spends the next few weeks coming to the ice cream shop. He sometimes misses a day or two, partially due to being exhausted by dancing practice or just college in general. Another reason is because he’s fed up with eating ice cream (no matter how much he’s come to tolerate it a little ever since coming to the shop) and his diet as an athlete doesn’t allow him to overeat anything sweet. Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t have other excuses to see Y/n; visiting the shop frequently without buying anything would be weird. Though, as days go by, he becomes more creative with his orders, like switching to low-sugar frozen yogurts or an iced Americano float (with the float being removed, much to Y/n’s confusion). Soon, he also finds out the existence of food—such as toasts and grilled sausages—in the shop’s menu.(“You need to stop ogling at Y/n and pay attention to our menu instead,” Mingyu once chastised wryly.)

Regardless, Hoshi enjoys most of his visits. Y/n is a fun person to talk to; Hoshi is often swayed by her personality and ends up being more talkative than he actually is, earning a frown from Mingyu. Later, Y/n reveals that she’s a dancer at Hoshi and Mingyu’s rival college, and she has jokingly asked Hoshi several times to dance against her.Hoshi’s never given an outright answer, however. As much as he wants to meet up with Y/n outside of the shop, he wants it as a date.

And that’s where the problem lies. He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up. He could ask Y/n in the shop, right beside Mingyu, but getting rejected in public would be awkward. In the end, that thought is always buried to the back of his mind.

Today is no different. Hoshi visits the the shop again—after being absent for a week prior—with no intentions of bringing up the date. As usual, he only wants to see the dancer. Even before stepping his feet inside, his heart thumps in anticipation to Y/n’s welcoming smile. So, as soon as he pushes the door open only to notice the absence of one of the workers behind the counters, his face falls.

“Asshole, I should’ve gotten offended of how disappointed your face is when you saw me instead of Y/n,” Mingyu scowls, to which Hoshi grins sheepishly. “She’s gonna be late today. I know what you’re thinking—she’s fine. There aren’t any dangerous emergencies or something like that, calm down.”

“I am calm,” Hoshi replies, burying his hands into his pockets. “I know she’s gonna be fine. She has such a caring co-worker after all,” he smirks at Kuramochi, who huffs in slight embarassment.

“Shut up. Who knows what stupid thing she’s gonna do,” the hipster’s lips curl downwards, an attempt to hold back his smile. “Anyway, since she’s not here yet, I can finally interrogate you.”

“What is there to interrogate?”

“What is y/n to you?” Mingyu ignores his words, giving him a pointed look instead. “If you’re only playing with her, Hoshi, I swear – “

“Oi, can’t you trust me a little?” Hoshi sweatdrops. “Do I look like some kind of heartthrob? You know me better than that, ‘Mingyu.”

“With your face, it’s easy to become one.”

“Very flattering.”

“Anyway, I’m being fucking serious right now,” Mingyu glowers at the dancer solemnly. “Tell me what you want from her.”

Hoshi eventually sighs, and briefly scans the whole shop. Luckily, it’s one of the weekdays, so there aren’t many customers inside. Besides, they’re too engrossed in their conversations or electronical devices to eavesdrop on Hoshi and Mingyu.

“Look, I don’t want anything from her,” Hoshi begins slowly, but he’s only rewarded with a skeptical look from Mingyu. “Okay, maybe I’ve been meaning to ask her on a date, but—“ he narrows his eyes at the hipster. “Wait, she’s single, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be asking that?” Mingyu purses his lips into a thin line.

“Oh, Hoshi, you’re here!”

Both the hipster and the dancer whip their head alarmingly to the familiar voice. There stands y/n with her trademark grin, her bag slung around her shoulder. Panic blossoms inside of Hoshi’s chest—he didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell, and judging from Mingyu’s startled response, he didn’t, too. They don’t know how long has the dancer been standing there. It’d be bad if Y/n managed to hear their conversation.

So, Hoshi studies y/n’s facial expression, searching for something, but the dancer only looks perplexed—probably due to Hoshi’s sudden stillness.

“Hoshi?” Y/n blinks up at him, making Hoshi more conscious of their height difference. Eyes trailing down to her neck, the pastel-colored collar of the shop’s uniform peeks out of her oversized sweater that falls until her mid-thigh, with the sleeves covering up her whole hands.

Sweater paws, Hoshi’s mind shuts down as tiny Hoshi’s inside his brain run in circles, screaming “ABORT! ABORT!” with high-pitched voices. She’s fucking wearing sweater paws.

“Hoshi-oppa!” Y/n frowns, successfully drawing Hoshi’s attention. “Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me.”

“Right, sorry,” the dancer mutters as he watches Y/n disappearing into the back room, before she shows up again without her sweater while tying the apron on her lower back.

“I see that you haven’t ordered something!” Y/n grins brightly, this time placing both of her hands on her hips. “So, what are you here for today, Hoshi?”

Hoshi, still distracted, racks his brain to all of the menu he’s ordered in the past. Triple shots espresso ice cream with almonds. Iced americano float, but without the float. Wasabi ice cream because he was feeling adventurous. Hazelnut spread and sliced banana on toast—

No, that’s not What hoshi wants all of this time. He wants—

“You,” he blurts out, mumbling, unaware of Mingyu choking in the background. However, when he notices the lack of response from the dancer, the haze in his brain suddenly dissipates, and everything becomes crystal clear again. “Shit, I mean—“

“Okay,” Y/n says, e/c orbs shyly peeking from underneath her lashes towards Hoshi.

“I was—huh, what?” Hoshi pauses, dumbfounded.

“I said okay,” Y/n averts her eyes, playing with the hem of her apron. “You can have me.”

Hoshi stares and stares, trying to process Y/n’s affirmation. That sounds too suggestive—too good to be true. Maybe his brain is tricking him. Maybe this is only a scene that he unconsciously creates inside his mind which is brought to life in a form of hallucination.

But when Y/n starts to fidget under his gaze, Hoshi lets his brain register the fact that this is, indeed, a reality.

As the gears inside him begin to work again, Hoshi doesn’t pass the chance to poke some fun at Y/n’s answer which basically serves as a free teasing material for Hoshi to use.

“Oh? How bold,” he then comments, smirking in satisfaction as he observes how realization gradually dawns on Y/n’s face.

“I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!” the dancer exclaims defensively, her cheeks now tainted with red. “Y-you were the one who blurted out weird things in the first place!”

“Sorry, sorry~” Hoshi grins unapologetically, to which Y/n pouts at. “But, as tempting as it sounds, you should let me take you on a date first, y’know,” he continues, his playful grin faltering a little due to slight nervousness.

To his relief, Y/n utters a timid “okay” and nods, a tint of pink still decorating her cheeks. At that, Hoshi doesn’t bother to hide the ever-growing smile on his lips and an excited glance to Mingyu who’s pretending to read a magazine and acting all disinterested, albeit the small curl on the corner of his mouth tells otherwise.

The next thing Hoshi knows is him exchanging phone numbers with the dancer and discussing their date in a short stretch of time due to the arrival of a group of customers.

Hoshi doesn’t get any ice cream that day, but he does get something—someone—sweeter in return.

 ~Three months later~

 Hoshi sips on his hot, black coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his glasses. He steps aside when a patron comes out of the shop hurriedly, but he manages to halt the door from closing with his right knee. Hoshi then opens the door big enough for his body to get inside as the familiar chime of the doorbell greets his ears. The shop is silent, empty without customers, highly caused by the “CLOSED” sign on the door with a red, thick font.“I’m sorry, we’re already closed—“ Y/n says from Hoshi’s left side while stacking some brochures. When she finally turns her head towards the door, a beatific smile appears on her face. “Oh! Hoshi.”

Hoshi smiles back, placing his coffee on the counter and leans towards Y/n, to which the latter eagerly closes the gap between their mouths. They share a quick kiss as a greeting, before Hoshi withdraws slightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing over

y/n’s. He steals one or two more kisses, just because he can’t help himself.

“Hi to you too,” Y/n whispers, giggling. Hoshi cradles his lover’s cheeks with one of his palms, prompting Y/n to nuzzle against it. From here, he can also make out Y/n’s e/c eyes twinkling in delight—so captivating and blinding that it stupefies him.

“For someone who’s on her last day of work, you sure look happy,” Hoshi comments, arching an amused brow.

“I am happy!” Y/n replies, pulling away fully to finish her tidying duty. She moves swiftly behind the counters, the sole of her shoes creating noisy sounds against the tiled floor. “But not in a way you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Hoshi says, bringing the paper cup of his half-drunk coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I like this job,” Y/n confesses, finishing her work and untying her apron. “My co-workers are nice, and my boss is generous to give me discounted ice cream.”

“I think the latter plays a bigger part,” Hoshi teases, knowing Y/n’s sweet tooth.

“Shut up,” the dancer juts her tongue out. “Meeting you here is what makes this job more special,” Y/n casually states, offering a smug smirk at Hoshi’s flabbergasted expression.

“Wow, Y/n,” he breathes out, before whistling with a shake of head. “You sure become bolder with your words nowadays.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”Y/n questions, pupils turning cat-like.Hoshi hums. “Well, you used to blush so much around me—“

“That’s – “ as if on cue, red creeps up to y/n’s cheek. “That’s because you always gave me those kind of eyes and used that kind of voice—!”

“What about now?”hoshi smirks, revelling in the way Y/n gets all worked up because of him. A nasty personality he has, indeed.

“Ugh, I’m not gonna talk about it!” the dancer scrunches her nose, a habit that Hoshi’s taken to notice whenever Y/n is frustrated. “Anyway! I was talking why I feel happy to quit work! It’s because I can spend more time with you now!”If Hoshi’s heart pulsates rapidly due to the abrupt swarm of affections in his veins, he does a great job of hiding it. “The real reason why you quit is because of the upcoming dancer season. We’d still be busy, either way,” he points out instead.

“Must you be so pessimistic, Hoshi?” Y/n pouts, looking a little dejected. Hoshi exhales guiltily.

“My bad,” he chuckles, ruffling the crown of Y/n’s head. “You know that I’d always try to make time for you, right, Y/n?”

“Of course you do, you whipped asshole. Only you would come to a shop that sells something you dislike.”

“Mingyu-oppa!” Y/n jumps due to

Mingyu’s unannounced appearance from the back room, before gawking at his revelation. “Wait, what? Does Hoshi not like ice cream?”

“Ask him yourself,” Mingyu shrugs.

Y/n immediately whirls towards Hoshi, displaying her best puppy face to lure the truth out of her boyfriend. And concede Hoshi does, not before shooting daggers at a snickering Mingyu.

“Yes, y/n, I don’t eat much sweets. You happy now?” he admits reluctantly, tugging the collar of his jacket in embarassment.

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” Sawamura bounces on her feet. “After all of this time, you didn’t come here for the ice cream?!”

Hoshi sighs, not before downing the remnant of his coffee and throwing it in the nearest trash bin. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s not like I exactly loathe ice cream, I just can’t handle it if it’s too sweet—“Y/n, however, wastes no time to approach Hoshi on the other side of the counter, circling her arms around Hoshi’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.

The hipster groans in agony, covering his face with his right palm. “This isn’t the outcome that I wanted,” he bemoans, lamenting in his misery.

Hoshi laughs nasally, eyes closing in pure mirth as Y/n continues to pepper kisses on his face. It eggs Mingyu even more as he seethes in irritation.“Okay, stop it, Y/n! Why the fuck are you so pleased at the idea of Hoshi trying to get himself diabetes for you?”

“Oi, that’s too exaggerating, don’t you think?” Hoshi sweatdrops.

Y/n ends her ministration and frowns at Mingyu. “But Mingyu-oppa! If I were in Hoshi’s shoes, I’d do the same! But currently he’s not working in a natto-based restaurant or something, so I shall reward his bravery in some other way!”

“Don’t do it here,” Mingyu snaps, “I’ve cleaned and locked all shit in the back room while you were busy with that idiot. Grab your bag and sweater and just go home.”Teary-eyed, Y/n beams brightly, “I express my sincerest gratitude for you,

Mingyu-oppa!” She exclaims, before dashing to the back room to collect her belongings.“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu waves her off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s my last day too, figures I’d do more than usual.”

“Aw, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you care for her, ‘Mingyu,” Hoshi coos.

“And you!” Mingyu then throws the dancer a resentful look. “You owe me for all of the time you’ve made me into a fucking thirdwheel, bastard!”

At that moment, Y/n has come back, already clad in her warm, oversized sweater, and proceeds to stand next to Hoshi. That’s when an idea strikes him.

“Thirdwheel?” Hoshi asks, tilting his head at Mingyu in a faux innocuousness. He pulls his unsuspecting girlfriend closer by the waist, to which Y/n lets out a soft gasp. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Mingyu croaks out, widening his eyes when Hoshi lowers his head to Y/n’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you – shit, don’t you two dare making out again – give me a damn break, I’m trying to close the shop here! If you two don’t stop right now, I’m gonna kick out both of you with a fucking broom – oi, did you hear me?! Alright, for fuck’s sake, Y/n, save the moan for later and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE—“

[samwisethebitch]

The Bizarre World of “Feel Good” Murder Mysteries

When I think of murder, I don’t typically think of warm, fuzzy feelings. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I’m a fan of all things gritty and gory, so a lot of the books I read fall into the thriller/suspense subgenre. But not everyone likes their mystery novels with an extra helping of blood and guts — in fact, there’s an entire subgenre of mysteries designed to make readers feel good.

According to Wikipedia, “Cozy mysteries, also referred to as ‘cozies’, are a subgenre of crime fiction in which sex and violence occur off stage, the detective is an amateur sleuth, and the crime and detection take place in a small, socially intimate community.” Think Angela Lansbury a la Murder, She Wrote. It’s a very PG approach to a genre that is usually a hard R.

Like romance, the cozy mystery is a subgenre mostly read by women. According to cozy-mystery.com, a website dedicated to this type of book, “Many cozy mystery readers are intelligent women looking for a ‘fun read’ that engages the mind, as well as provides entertainment.”

Any time a genre is marketed to one gender over the other, I automatically wonder why. Is it because women are seen as less likely to enjoy “hardboiled” detective fiction than men? Is it because women “have weaker stomachs” or “can’t handle violence”? Is it because everything made for women needs to be cutesy and fluffy?

To try to answer these questions, I read three different cozies to see if I could determine why they’re so popular and why they’re marketed to women. Here’s what I found.

And Then There Were Crumbs by Eve Calder

Quirky settings seem to be a recurring theme in cozies, with more than a few of the subgenre’s beloved heroines doing double duty as amateur detectives and small business owners. In And Then There Were Crumbs, the small business in question is a bakery nestled in a ridiculously beautiful beachside town.

The mystery is not the main focus of this book. Really, it’s about Kate recovering from a messy breakup and trying to save a small-town bakery from going under. The murder is just icing on the cake, so to speak.

Unfortunately, the mystery was the weakest part for me. It’s not bad, by any means, but it does feel a little too clean. I’m the type of reader who likes to try to figure out the mystery alongside the characters, and this story didn’t really let me do that. There aren’t any compelling suspects to speculate about, and the solution is only possible after Kate stumbles onto a missing clue that brings everything together. This is a device used a lot by shows like Murder, She Wrote, and it’s always been a little bit of a pet peeve of mine.

The rest of the plot is well-written and full of warm fuzzies, but as someone who was mainly interested in the whodunnit I was a little disappointed.

One thing I will say for And Then There Were Crumbs is that it made me crave cookies so badly I had to bake a batch of snickerdoodles after finishing it. That’s gotta count for something.

Final Rating: 💀💀💀 (3 skulls out of 5)

Sinfully Delicious by Amanda M. Lee

Like in And Then There Were Crumbs, the mystery is not the main focus of this book. Sinfully Delicious is, at its heart, a second chance romance about a down-on-her-luck author who moves back to her hometown and reconnects with her high school sweetheart. That she happens to discover a dead body on her first day back, and that the previously mentioned high school sweetheart happens to be the police officer investigating the case, is incidental.

As I was reading this book, I noticed another running theme in the cozy subgenre. Both And Then There Were Crumbs and Sinfully Delicious go out of their way to establish that the murder victims were very, very bad people. Of course no one deserves to be poisoned or stabbed in a back alley, but if anyone did, it would be these guys. In a way, this makes the murders less disturbing since they almost feel justified.

Sinfully Delicious spends even less time on the mystery than And Then There Were Crumbs — at times, it almost doesn’t feel like a mystery novel. The romance really is the main focus here, and I had serious issues with it. Stormy’s ex-boyfriend/love interest has a girlfriend, and there is definitely some emotional infidelity — what Bustle calls “micro-cheating.” To make us feel better about this (and to keep Stormy a sympathetic protagonist), the author makes the girlfriend so unbelievably bitchy and unlikable that we can’t help but hate her. I’m very tired of girl-on-girl hate being used as a plot device in romance novels, and this book is one of the worst offenders I’ve encountered in a while.

The murder subplot was pretty standard. The last minute reveal that pulls the whole mystery together appears once again in this book, followed by a conclusion so outlandish, it actually made up for some of the lackluster buildup.

I did enjoy the fantasy elements in Sinfully Delicious. Stormy discovers that she is a witch and possesses magical powers, but like a lot of other cool things in this story, the witch stuff gets pushed aside to make more room for the romance nobody asked for.

Final Rating: 💀💀 (2 skulls out of 5)

Agatha Raisin and The Quiche of Death by M. C. Beaton

The Agatha Raisin series is a staple of the cozy subgenre. With 30 books and counting, the series has been going strong since the early 1990s. Because this book (the first in the series) is quite a bit older than the other two I read, it isn’t quite as formulaic. It’s definitely heavy on the Agatha Christie inspiration (in case the protagonist’s name didn’t make it obvious), and it’s all very, very British.

Once again, the mystery isn’t the only thing going on here. This book is about Agatha, a fifty-something-year-old business woman who sells her PR firm, goes into an early retirement, and buys a cottage in the Cotswolds, only to realize that village life will be a harder adjustment than she thought. She feels torn between her new village, which isn’t at all like she imagined, and her old life in London, which is quickly moving on without her. Oh, and one of her new neighbors dies of poisoning after eating a quiche Agatha entered in a local baking competition.

I really liked Agatha as a character. It’s nice to see a single, middle aged woman who enjoys being single, and it’s interesting to read a story that deals with themes of getting older and planning for retirement. Agatha is also kind of a bad bitch, and I enjoyed reading about her aggressive, take-no-prisoners attitude.

The story really reminded me of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple series, which I’m sure is intentional. I can just imagine the author thinking, “But what if sweet Miss Marple was replaced by a London businesswoman?” and then writing this book. The supporting characters are all quirky and eccentric in some way, and some moments are genuinely humorous.

The murder mystery plays a more central role in this book than the first two I read, with Agatha doing lots of good, old fashioned snooping, breaking and entering, and harassing suspects. The conclusion was a little bit of a letdown for me — I think the author could have gone in a lot of different directions, but chose the most boring one.

Final Rating: 💀💀💀 (3 skulls out of 5)

Conclusion

I really can see the appeal of this type of mystery. These books are perfect for readers, both men and women, who want a fun mystery that they can try to solve alongside the protagonist, but who don’t want to read graphic descriptions of violence. I really do think there’s a place in the larger mystery genre for stories like this.

These books are also great for when you aren’t sure what genre you want to read. There’s a little bit of murder, a little bit of women’s fiction, a little bit of humor, and sometimes even a little bit of romance. It’s a grab bag of some of the most popular genres of fiction, and it speaks to readers with eclectic tastes.

Since I discovered the existence of the “cozy mystery” label, I’ve been using it to find books to read when I’m not feeling anything super intense. I read a lot of horror and thrillers, but sometimes I can get burned out on that type of intensely emotional (and often disturbing) story. When I want just a taste of intrigue without the blood and guts, cozies are a good option.

If you’re an avid reader of more intense mysteries, I recommend checking out this more lighthearted side to the genre. Who says a book about murder can’t be uplifting?

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Hi, so now we come to the end.  The final two chapters.  Thanks to everyone who’s been following this story.  It can be read on AO3 too.  My name is Kris22 there.  As always, thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” available on AO3 and Fanfiction.  And thanks to Loueze for her encouragement and support.  Chapter 37 By the time the television crew was due to arrive, Peeta and I were as convincingly in love as two people could possibly be.  Of course, it was helped a great deal by the fact that we actually were.  Even so, we were hardly looking forward to our private lives becoming public again and cameras following us around as we went about our daily routine.  We worried about how intrusive it might be. Cressida had promised it would be tasteful, but the Capitol idea of tasteful can be very different from the districts.  I was afraid that it might be like that show I once saw on television about a houseful of people under constant surveillance.  They couldn’t even shower in privacy.  Would it be like that for Peeta and me?  Would they follow us into the bedroom?  Expect us to perform?  Our one consolation was that we’d be left alone once filming had ended and we vowed to ourselves that we’d do nothing newsworthy for the rest of our lives.   The day came. The house had been cleaned and tidied.  Everything was where it was supposed to be to reflect a couple who lived together as romantic partners.  Buttercup was bathed and freshly groomed.  I had the scratches to prove it.  Peeta, always considerate, had baked an assortment of breads for the crew, although I told him he shouldn’t bother.  At 7 am everything was in readiness.  10 am came and went.   And then 11 am.   At 2 pm we were still waiting.   At 4 pm we wondered if we’d got our dates wrong.   It was 6 pm when Haymitch finally got around to telling us.  They weren’t coming.  At all.   The video Remus took had violated victor media protection.  I had been filmed without my consent, wasn’t engaged in illegal activity and hadn’t voided my own protection by taking on a public role or seeking publicity.  Plutarch knew this but gambled that in our ignorance, we could be coerced into co-operating.  And once filming had started, our media protection was automatically revoked, since we had clearly consented to it.   It took only one phone call from Haymitch to President Paylor to have it sorted.   I suppose it’s of some consolation that Plutarch was severely reprimanded and threatened with dismissal.  And that he was also out of pocket for the purchase of the video and pre-production costs. As for Haymitch, I couldn’t decide whether to thank him or kill him.  He had certainly saved us from our lives being turned into a media circus for a second time but he’d let us have the worry of it for a whole week.  Peeta calmed me down and reminded me that it had brought us together.  Haymitch’s defense was that he was sick to death of our crap and wanted an end to it. He thought that a week of living together would get us sort out our differences and he was proven right.   I argued that it would have happened anyway, although I had to concede probably not as quickly.  With that in mind, I decided to let him live.   The year rolls around.  Peeta doesn’t move back into his house. It was never discussed; it was simply taken for granted.  We keep busy.  Peeta still works at the bakery as a specialist cake decorator.  He’s a partner now.  The sign above the new premises reads “Carter and Mellark Bakery and Patisserie.”  I teach at the school and on weekends I hunt. Marcus wrote to ask if I was interested in culling pest species such as wild dog and feral pig.  I jumped at it.  It seems you can be a hunter and a conservationist.   Haymitch works at the council and raises geese, which he does a pretty good job of considering he’s inebriated most of the time. We attend two weddings and one toasting.   Arthur and Lace don’t wait long before they tie the knot, or to be more accurate, thread the needle. Predictably, it was the source of much hilarity for Max, who was also invited.  At least he refrained from making jokes until after the ceremony.  I enjoyed catching up with Sateen and her husband Roy. They have a little boy.  They called him Felt.   Poor kid.   The second wedding was Octavia and Thom’s. Octavia made a beautiful bride with her rich auburn hair and fresh complexion.  Venia’s fear that their past as prep team to the Games would jeopardize their position in 12 proved needless.  Everyone knew who they were.  They’d seen them on television.  Flavius’s bright orange hair and Venia’s facial tattoos made them easily recognizable. But people had moved on.  They were tired of holding onto resentments – especially for three harmless beauty therapists whose former “victim” still willingly availed herself of their services.   The toasting was ours.  One day, we just did it.  There was no planning, no prior understanding that we’d have one.  It was the middle of winter.  We were snowed in and confined to the house.  Peeta got a roaring fire going and we picnicked in front of it using odds and ends from the pantry.  We had some stale bread to use up and toasted it by the fire.  He’d hold the toasting fork with a piece of bread to the flames and offer it to me when it was done.  The significance of it entered our heads at the very same moment. It was just a look followed by a kiss. Nothing needed to be said.  One day we might make it official, but for us we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.   Johanna won the election for District 7 mayor. She’s kept very busy but we talk on the telephone regularly.  She’s coming to visit 12 for a few days next month.   Doubtless she’ll be as disruptive as ever.  But sometimes we can use a little stirring up.  That’s what Johanna says anyway.  She takes full credit for getting Peeta and me back together and I can’t say she’s entirely wrong.   And we had a visit from my mother!  I had her possessions shipped to her home in District 4 and it seemed to have jolted something inside her, because soon after she was making plans to travel here.   It was a short visit.  She was nervous about coming here, of the memories it could evoke.  But aside from the Village, there’s nothing left of the old Twelve.  The debris from the bombs has long since been cleared away, new buildings have replaced the old, and the grass grows long and thick over the meadow.   We had a long talk about her reasons for not joining me in Twelve after I’d been released from the Capitol.  She feared being pulled down into a depression along with me.   I understood.  When you’re in the grip of it, you can see no way out.  My mother, having recovered once, was deathly afraid that she wouldn’t recover a second time.  And since misery feeds on misery, she would likely have only made mine worse.   Peeta is somewhere in the house repairing the painting of the primrose he did for me.  I don’t visit Prim in her room anymore except for that one time I when I wanted to tell her about my toasting with Peeta.   She wasn’t there.  She hasn’t been for a long time.  It was then I realized that Prim doesn’t reside in any particular place.  She’s with me every time I think of her.  I took down the primrose painting from the top of the dresser.  It belongs somewhere where I will see it every day.   I had an idea for a book, similar to my family’s plant book.   It’s to preserve the happy memories of the people we’ve lost.   Lady licking Prim’s cheek, what Cinna could do with a length of silk.  In my best handwriting, I carefully record all the details it would be a crime to forget and accompany it with a photo if we have one, or a sketch or painting by Peeta. There are photos of Finnick strewn across the dining table as I try to make my mind up on which one to use - a publicity shot that shows off Finnick’s sea-green eyes or a photo taken of himself and Annie at their wedding.   “Katniss, I was looking for some kind of adhesive tape to fix the painting and I found this letter in one of the drawers in the study.  It was addressed to me, so I opened it.” I look up, wondering what Peeta’s talking about.  He holds the painting in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.  He leans the painting up against a wall and then pulls out one of the dining room chairs to sit across from me.  He lays the letter down in front of him.  I immediately recognize the handwriting on it as my own.  It’s the first letter I wrote to him after the mayor’s party before I thought better of it and wrote a second.  But not before putting it in an envelope and stuffing it in a drawer.  I’d forgotten all about it.   I try to snatch the letter away but he swiftly puts it out of my reach.  “Dear Peeta,” he reads. “I’m writing to you because – ““You don’t have to read it.  I know what’s in it,” I say.  “Give it back.”  I make another grab for it but he’s too fast. “. . . because I’m sure to get it wrong, or miss something important if I do this face to face.” He stops reading and hands me the letter.  I take it from him, refold it, and slip it beneath the memory book, hoping against hope, that this will prevent any more mention of it. “Did you really want to break off all contact with me?” he asks, frowning.  “I didn’t think it ever got that bad.  When?  Why?” I sigh. Why didn’t I throw the damn letter out? “It was after the mayor’s party.  I was very upset when I wrote it.  And then I had second thoughts and wrote you another. That’s the one I slipped under your door.  I’d forgotten about this one.” He gives his head a shake. “I don’t understand. Nothing happened that night.  Not between us, anyway.  Did someone say something?  Was it Max?”  His lips thin in anger.  “That – “ “No,” I say quickly.  “It was nothing Max did.” I let out a breath, and plough forward. “It was something you did.  You and Lace.  It was when you sneaked off to have sex.” There’s a moment of stunned silence.  “What?” “You know what I mean.  I saw it all.  Well, not all, but I did see the two of disappear through those swinging double doors only the staff used.   And when you came back, Lace’s hair was all mussed. And if you didn’t have sex exactly, it was something close.  That was really tacky, Peeta.  Civilized people have more decorum than to do that.  Civilized people wait until they get home.  Civilized people – “ “Katniss, we didn’t sneak off for sex. Cass invited me to see the kitchens once the dessert course was over.  That’s where we went.”   Oh.  I guess that’s a reasonable explanation.  But that dream had been so vivid.  “Then why was Lace’s hair messed up?” “Was it?  I don’t know.  I don’t remember anything different about her.  We went to see the kitchen, Cass showed us around, and then we came out. Nothing else happened.”   “But it was sticking out,” I insist.  I know what I saw.   The scene plays again in my head.  I was at the bar with Haymitch and Max, sampling shots of whisky and getting drunker and more agitated by the minute.  Agonizing over what they could be doing.  Kissing, fondling each other, maybe even fucking. “And then you didn’t even look to see if I was still there when you came back,” I add in a small pitiful voice.  It sounds so pathetic, saying it aloud.  It’s a trivial reason for cutting someone out of your life. Just because they didn’t look for you when they came into a room.   But after everything, that’s what tipped it over for me.  What finally made me give up hope and decide to end it. He reaches across the table to take one of my hands.  “Katniss, look at me.” I turn my face away, and he gives my hand a tug.  I reluctantly meet his gaze.  His eyes look earnestly into mine.  “I can’t explain the hair, okay?  But I can tell you what I do remember about that night.” He pauses, as if waiting for my approval before he proceeds.  I shrug.   “Go ahead.” He closes his eyes for a few seconds.  “You, looking so beautiful in your Cinna dress.  And me, assailed by memories of other entrances and other gowns.  Being dragged around by Lace from one boring conversation to another, unable to resist looking around to see what you were doing.  And Max, who didn’t leave your side for a minute unless it was to get you another drink. I was jealous of him without knowing why but attributed it to a fear of losing your friendship.” He pauses and adds, “At the time, you didn’t seem very happy with me.”I feel a twinge of remorse.  He’s right.  I was often moody and distant with him.  The tape viewings weren’t going as I wanted and I’d recently learned of a pattern book he was making for Lace, similar to my family’s plant book.  “You seemed to be having such a good time together, at dinner and on the dance floor. So, when we came back into the ballroom, I just didn’t want to be reminded of it.  I kept my head down and headed for the nearest group of people.  And then I did my best not to think about you.  I’m sorry.   I hurt you and used Lace to hide from my feelings.  But that’s the truth, awful as it is.”   But not nearly as awful as what I’d convinced myself of.   I don’t know what to say.  I feel so foolish.  So much anger and pain for something that existed only in my imagination.   And I’d also assumed that Peeta’s willingness to help me with the Marcus thing was due, in some part, to either empathy or guilt for having being in a similar situation himself. “No, I’m the awful one for jumping to conclusions.  I thought the worst.  You’d never be so crass as to do something like that.  I owe you an apology.  I should never – “ “You don’t owe me anything,” he says, interrupting me before I can go further.   “In fact, the opposite is true.  You wouldn’t have thought it if I hadn’t given you reason to.” He reaches across for the memory book and flips through the pages we’ve done so far.  My father. Peeta’s father.  Boggs.  It stops on Rue.  Peeta has drawn her poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight.  There’s a reason why I asked him to portray her like this.  It’s how I want to remember her.  You can’t change the past, but you can bring the best of it into the future.   “Let’s make a deal.  Only good memories for us from now on.  Like this book you’re working on.”   He walks over to where I’m sitting to pull me out of my chair.  “Now come show me where you want this painting hung.”  I take him into the living room.  It’s the room we use most and where I’ll see it every day.   As I decide where to place it exactly, Peeta comes to stand at my back to hug me from behind.  I lean back against his broad chest and luxuriate in the strong arms that encircle me.   My dandelion in the spring.  The lullaby that Prim liked as a baby comes to mind.   Here it’s safe, here it’s warmHere the daisies guard you from every harmHere your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them trueHere is the place where I love you. “I was thinking over the mantle?  Or maybe on the far wall . . .”    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 38 Lace’s story: what happened on the night of the mayor’s party.   It wasn’t fair!  This was supposed to have been her night.   She had been looking forward to it for weeks ever since Peeta casually mentioned it on one of their date nights.  The mayor’s inauguration party was to be the biggest social event in District 12 in living memory.  All the important and influential people in the district would be there.  For ambitious Lace, it was invaluable in terms of creating contacts and securing the kind of clientele that could afford to buy her evening wear, a design niche she wanted to develop.   Besides, she dearly loved a party and she hadn’t been to one in ages.  The last one had been the district party where she had met Peeta for the first time.   He didn’t remember it though.   That was fortunate since she had come to District 12 for a new life and a new identity and didn’t want her past in District 8 compromising it in any way.   Since she was to be her best advertisement, she put a great deal of thought and effort into her gown.  She hadn’t much money saved but she splurged the lot on pale yellow satin and then spent many hours making it up.   The final touch was a trip to the salon to have her hair colored and styled.  It was an extravagance, keeping up the hair color.  But she loved it and it formed something of a disguise as it was subtly different from the typical ash brown of the natives of her home district.   As she entered the ballroom, Lace felt she was at the beginning of an exciting new phase.  After a slow start, her business had gained momentum and she was making a steady income.   A few family members had also made the move to 12 which added to her sense of security.  But best of all, was the man on whose arm she clung.  How did she get so lucky?  Peeta Mellark!  Her teenage crush.  The romantic heartthrob whose posters had adorned her bedroom wall.  The boy she had married in her dreams every night.  What a fortuitus twist of fate it had been that day when he came into her shop to have a coat made.  A flirtation had led to a date at a restaurant and then another, until she could now, without exaggeration, call him her boyfriend! True, he wasn’t quite what she had expected.  He seemed a bit aimless, and he liked activities she had outgrown, like hanging out at the ice-cream parlor and the swimming pool, but he was Peeta Mellark!   And he really was so sweet and considerate with his little romantic gestures and compliments to her beauty.  He told her she was a wonder.  And the more she kissed and flattered and stroked, the more wonderful she became.  It was a mutual admiration society that she was more than happy to live in.  The one blot on her happiness was Katniss Everdeen.  Lace had mixed feelings about meeting her. Katniss was intimidating.  Her reputation as romantic heroine, fearless symbol of the Rebellion, skillful warrior and (privately thought by most of the populace) savior from another Snow, preceded her.  But most intimidating of all was her relationship with Peeta.  He talked about her all the time. Not in a romantic sense, it was true, but it was clear she occupied a great deal of his thoughts.  The Games had been mandatory viewing and Lace, like everyone in Panem, had watched Peeta gaze at Katniss with love in his eyes.  But Peeta had an explanation for that.  It had been an illusion.  He thought he had been in love with her, but it turned out that he was in love with his idea of her, rather than who she really is.  But now he thought of her as very good friend with whom he shared an unbreakable bond.  As for Katniss, well, she had never loved him.  It had all been an act on her part. That should have been reassuring.  And it was.  Sort of.  But Peeta had lost many of his memories and what was left was distorted, so how could he be certain? But what gave her most pause wasn’t Peeta.  It was Katniss.  It was clear at the first meeting that Katniss didn’t like her.  Katniss wasn’t rude, but she was cool, even giving her the once over when they were first introduced.  And when Lace and Peeta discussed a housewarming gift from the two of them for Lace’s brother, a shadow passed over Katniss’s face.  It was subtle but unmistakable.  Katniss wasn’t as disinterested in Peeta as Peeta made out. That’s why Lace gatecrashed the tape viewings.  If there was anything going on, she wanted to know about it.  She didn’t trust Katniss one inch.  Unfortunately, the second of the tapes triggered the memory of a traumatic incident for Lace and she reacted hysterically.  Peeta asked her not to attend anymore and she had no choice but to do as he said.   However, despite Peeta watching video tape of hugs and kisses and romantic slow dancing at Capitol parties, nothing changed between herself and Peeta.  If Peeta had ever loved Katniss, it appeared that he no longer did.   Even Leevy’s revelations in the salon that day didn’t worry her for long.  So what if the star-crossed lovers had been real?  It still aligned with Peeta’s version.  What had happened in the Games and during the tours was before Peeta had realized his true feelings for Katniss.  And she’d already guessed that Katniss was in love with him.   The party was everything Lace had dreamed of. So elegant. The women in evening gowns, the men in dinner suits.  Waiters with silver trays laden with flutes of sparkling champagne. The tables resplendent with starched white tablecloths and napkins and gleaming cutlery.  She turned to Peeta to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” she said. “You really are the best boyfriend.”  He brushed her lips with his and gave her a fond smile.  “Only because I have the best girlfriend,” he replied.   She beamed and squeezed his arm.  She could hardly recall a happier moment.   And then Katniss Everdeen arrived.  Lace’s practiced eye immediately recognized her gown as haute couture.  Cinna, probably.  Deep blue, the bodice studded thickly with diamonds – were they real? – with a strapless sweetheart neckline and more diamonds scattered on the skirt.  It dazzled and Katniss dazzled with it.  Luxuriant dark hair cascading down her back in loose curls.  Smooth olive skin, fine features and those surprising eyes.  Silvery gray, the colour of storm clouds.  She had a man for each arm.  The school teacher Max Matson, who all the girls agreed was very good looking if you could get past his personality, and – it couldn’t be – Arthur!  Lace’s friend who adored her since they were children together.  She knew he was coming tonight but not with her!  She felt the arm beneath her fingers stiffen and her glance swiftly turned to his face.  Peeta appeared stunned, his mouth gaping slightly.  There was admiration, certainly, but also something darker and more sinister.  Recognition. A memory, perhaps several, had resurfaced.   Lace’s happiness dimmed as if a cloud had passed across the sun.  But she rallied, pulling Peeta quickly along to greet the new mayor and his wife who were momentarily on their own.  Lace was in her element.  She was a natural networker.  She loved to interact with people and was always searching for opportunities.  Peeta seemed a little distracted though. Looking around, not quite keeping up with the conversation.   She followed his gaze, and it led directly to Katniss Everdeen, who, no surprise, was looking directly at him.  They both looked quickly away, but that was of no comfort.  It was clear that they were on each other’s mind. Meanwhile, she was pleased to observe, Arthur had detached himself from Katniss and was busy working the room too.  Now there was a man with get-up-and-go.  He didn’t let his natural reserve get in the way of achieving his ambitions.  Lace waved him over and he changed direction to come to her side.  Soon they were talking business, a fascinating subject for them both. She didn’t notice how restless Peeta was during the exchange. Dinner was announced and everyone made their way to their allocated seats.  Unfortunately, theirs was a dull table and not even Lace’s pearly laugh could liven it up. A burst of laughter from nearby grabbed her attention.  Arthur and Haymitch seemed to be at the center of it.  It caught Peeta’s attention too.  He seemed envious, it appeared to Lace.  But whether it was over the entertaining company or because Katniss was seated there too, she couldn’t tell. After the food had been served, people resumed their mingling, moving from table to table. Peeta wanted to talk to Katniss.  Ordinarily, Lace wouldn’t feel particularly threatened by this.  Over the preceding weeks, Peeta had confided to her that Katniss seemed uninterested in spending time with him unless it was watching the tapes.  And even then, she often seemed angry with him. Lace immediately guessed the situation. Katniss had grown frustrated with Peeta. He hadn’t responded as she’d hoped and she was distancing herself as a form of self-protection.  As long as this status quo was maintained, Lace felt safe. But after tonight, she wasn’t sure of anything.   Lace demurred.  Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea.  Katniss appeared occupied and hadn’t he told her that she didn’t seem keen on his company lately?  It was best to leave her alone.  But Peeta said that they should, that it would look odd if they didn’t.  So, when Max headed off in the direction of the bar, leaving Katniss on her own, Lace reluctantly let Peeta lead her to where Katniss sat.   It was an awkward conversation.  Lace embarrassed herself with her ignorance on what it meant to be a victor at the district parties and having to face the families of the dead tributes.  Worse, she let it slip that she had been to a district party.  Her story was that she’d been a factory worker in 8. Factory workers weren’t allowed to attend district parties.  Fortunately, Peeta didn’t pick up on it, but Katniss appeared to sense that something was amiss.   There was an awkward pause.  Peeta broke the silence.  “Are you going to let me talk to Katniss?” he said to Lace, pretending to be annoyed.  She had intended to stay at Peeta’s side, but perhaps it would be better to leave before she dug herself a deeper hole. “Okay, okay,” she said, in mock surrender.  “I know when I’m not wanted.  I need to go to the ladies’ room anyway.  Just stay out of trouble and don’t bug Katniss.” There, that would show Katniss who’s really in charge and hopefully plant a seed that Peeta wasn’t exactly happy in her company either.  She stroked his hand and kissed his cheek, enjoying her Svengali-like effect, knowing that his eyes would follow her as she walked away. She went to the ladies’ room as she said she would and did the usual things women do there.  She wanted to get the timing right and was gratified to see Peeta waiting for her at their table when she returned.   The dancing started up soon after and Lace pulled Peeta to his feet.  She loved to dance.  Peeta didn’t. His prosthetic leg made it a chore rather than a pleasure and he had faint memories of dancing at Capitol parties. But he wanted to be a good boyfriend, so up he got, and shuffled dutifully around the dancefloor with her. But then Katniss and Max came into view. Max had Katniss pulled tightly against him and he swung her around in a series of fancy turns, almost lifting her off her feet.  They were making fools of themselves, thought Lace.  That’s no way to behave at a formal event. So undignified!  So tasteless!  She turned to Peeta, expecting him to be as unimpressed as she, but his face was hard, giving away nothing.  Suddenly, he put his head close to hers and whispered words in her ear.   She nodded and followed him through the double swinging doors the staff used to bring food from the kitchen.  It had been pre-arranged.  Peeta had told her about it.  Cass from the bakery was to show Peeta around the kitchens. He had never seen a commercial kitchen before.   While he marveled at the long row of ovens, the walk-in freezer, the huge storage room, Lace could barely stifle her yawns.  So boring, and it was fricking cold in there after the warmth of the ballroom. But she stuck a smile on her face and did her best to appear interested but she was hardly in the mood to hear about the merits of blast chillers when her heart was breaking.  Somehow, she had to widen the gulf between Katniss and Peeta. She had to ensure that any fledgling signs of a possible reunion between them was snuffed out before it could begin. And then she had an idea. Just as they were about to re-enter the ballroom, Lace ruffled her carefully styled hair and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth to wipe away some of the lipstick, smearing it a little. Let Katniss believe that she and Peeta had snuck away for some canoodling in a dark corner.  Isn’t that what Peeta and Katniss did as star-crossed lovers?  Sneaking off to be alone when they were at fancy events? It was in a fan magazine she’d read, anyway.  With a bit of luck, Katniss’s mind would go straight there.   She scanned the room and saw Katniss by the bar with Max and Haymitch.  The hour was growing late and the crowd had thinned but there was a group of merry young people standing around nearby.  She started to lead Peeta in their direction, but he seemed to have the same idea and led her.  And when his arm went around her waist and he pressed a fond kiss to the crown of her head, relief flooded through her.  Everything was as it should be.  She turned in his arms slightly to look over his shoulder and managed to catch a glimpse of Katniss’s stricken but resolute face, just before her hasty exit with a startled Max close behind her.   Satisfied, she leaned her head against Peeta’s shoulder and he squeezed her waist.  She had worried over nothing.  It was inevitable that as Peeta regained his memories they’d be focused on Katniss. They were, after all, the memories that Snow had meddled with.  It didn’t mean that Peeta was wrong when he said his feelings for her had been an illusion. The real proof of who he loved was in who he chose to be with.  And that was her, Lace Bomul from District 8.  

[rimalupin]

Arthur x MC: “Never Have I Ever...”

(A/N: Fluff piece w/ a hint of angst and the *tiniest* bit of suggestive content. I wanted to show Arthur some more ~love~ by writing him w/ a bestie who’s comfortable with platonic touching/cuddling ((but also this is once again a lowkey self-indulgent piece bc i miss hugging my friends hnggggg T_T)). I’m also a sucker for the friends-to-lovers trope, so there’s that, hehe~. c: )

~~~~~

“Never have I ever… Broken a bone.”

“Well, I didn't expect that from you.” Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Haven’t you at least sprained something?”

“That's not the same as breaking something,” I point out as I massage my wrist. A habit I’ve developed ever since I first sprained it.

“I’m well aware.” His eyes dart to my wrist and he reaches out to grab my hand. Of course he’d know I’d sprained my wrist before just by seeing me touch it. Normally, Arthur’s super-observational skills would catch me off-guard. They still do, but I think they’re growing on me now. I guess that’s how you know we’ve spent A LOT of time together. 

He lifts up my hand and gently moves it about. I’m assuming he’s making sure that my wrist is still working. “I’m glad you haven’t broken it.”

I shrug. “I don’t do anything too weird with my hands, so I’m not really worried about that.”

“Oh? Define what you consider a ‘weird’ activity for your hands.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and I lightly punch his shoulder with my free hand. “OH! MAN DOWN!” He lets go of my hand and clutches his arm before falling onto his bed. 

I giggle and follow his lead so that I’m lying beside him. “Alright, stop stalling: it’s your turn.”

He turns to lay on his side and places a finger on my lips. “Have patience, my dear assistant! I’m still thinking.”

I gently pry his finger away. “Arthur, ‘Never Have I Ever’ is just a silly get-to-know-you game. It isn’t something you’re supposed to mull over for hours like… chess.”

“Usually, players aren’t supposed to think for THAT long in chess. But you’d know that, Miss ‘Almost-National-Chess-Champion’.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. I never should’ve let that fact slip out. I hadn’t played chess since middle school, so I’m dreading the day that Arthur asks me to play a game with him. My rusty skills wouldn’t be enough to beat him at even one game...

I quickly attempt to re-direct him to ‘Never Have I Ever.’ “Ohhh, just play the game already!” I poke at his sides, trying to see if any ticklish spots exist there. I’ve been trying to look for them for a while, but I still haven't quite found them yet.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles and grabs my hands. Our fingers interlock almost automatically.

It’s not the first time we’ve held hands like this - it’s become kind of our “thing” ever since we got close. Arthur’s the first friend I managed to make at the mansion, not to mention my first best friend who happens to be a vampire. Our friendship is special, and this is one of the many special things that resulted in it.

“Never have I ever…” He gives my hands a light squeeze, and I promptly return the gesture. “Been bitten by a vampire.”

I furrow my brow. “Pff, no way. I don’t believe you.”

“What? Why not?”

“Isn’t that how humans get ‘turned’? Like some powerful vampire bites a mortal and suddenly they become a vamp?”

“My dear, that is but a myth. The contract we have with le Comte didn’t require him to just bite us to give us a taste of eternal life.” Arthur wraps an arm around my waist, and I squeal with surprise when he pulls me close to him, his body flush against mine. His voice is low and he gazes at me intensely. “It required something much more dangerous.” I have to tell myself not to blush as I feel his breath on my face.

On one hand, I can see why so many ladies fall for Arthur’s advances: he's handsome, charming, and - dare I say - very sexy when he chooses to be. If they were in my position now, I'd imagine that they’d throw themselves into Arthur’s arms and start making out with him before they… well, you know…

On the other hand, it’s Arthur. Yes, he’s an awful flirt, but he’s also extremely intelligent, caring, and goofy. I love these sides of him, and I’m glad that he’s been showing me more of them lately.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me that le Comte is secretly pimping you guys out.”

“My word, get your mind out of the gutter!” he chides.

“It’s your fault for putting that thought into my head! But no shame if it’s true,” I tease. We laugh aloud, our voices echoing through the room.

Once we catch our breaths, Arthur speaks again. “_____ seriously, you’ve been here for almost a month now. Have you really not been bitten yet?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“How interesting…” He’s quiet for a moment. “Nobody here has bitten you?” 

Besides some really close calls (courtesy of Arthur, though it never went further than his mouth hovering near my neck - a move he used on me when I first arrived at the mansion), none of the residents had actually done that to me. “Arthur, I’m pretty sure I’d know if someone bit me.” “I’m just asking! But…” He looks at me with a curious gaze. “Have you ever wondered what it feels like?”

I shrug. “I mean, I guess.” I’m living with a bunch of vampires - of course I’m a little curious. 

But I’m also scared. Does it hurt? How much blood will I lose? Will I pass out?

As if reading my thoughts, Arthur gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to worry about that here. We’ve got plenty of Blanc and Rouge stocked up, so none of the residents would just sweep you up and make you their meal.”

I look at him, my expression deadpan. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know I won’t be eaten up during my stay.”

“I’m serious! But if you want to know…” His fingers reach up to tuck some stray hairs behind my ear. “You can use me.”

I blink at him, confused. “Use you..?”

He nods, completely serious. “I can bite you. And there’s no need to worry: I’ve done this plenty of times before, so I won't go too wild on you. Not that I've gone completely wild on anyone else!" He quickly adds.

I widen my eyes as I recall what Sebastian had told me when I first met Arthur: “Arthur feeding off of others is a sort of - How do I put this? - ‘vampiric foreplay,’ I suppose.” Does that mean that if he bites me, we’ll..?

No, that can’t be true. Surely Sebastian was over-exaggerating. I’ve heard that people can be into that kind of stuff, so how could it be any different with a vampire?

But I don't want to become just another one-night-stand for Arthur. He's my best friend - I wouldn't want to ruin what we already have...

Again, Arthur reads my thoughts. “We don’t have to do anything beyond that if you don’t want to. But I should warn you that the feeling is rather… intense.”

I narrow my eyes at his explanation, my skepticism at an all-time high. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, perhaps I can convince you with an alternative explanation. A demonstration perhaps?” He’s speaking with his “Flirty Arthur” voice, but his eyes… There’s a look in them that I haven’t seen before. It’s almost as if he’s been wanting to do this…

I reach out to touch his cheek, curious about the longing look in his eyes. He leans into my touch, and we silently gaze at each other for a while.

I finally manage to answer him. “Fine. Just this once.” My voice comes out quiet and a little shaky. Am I nervous about this..? “But if it hurts like hell and if you draw too much blood out of me, you’d better stop.”

Arthur’s gaze softens and he gives me a kind smile. “Alright. Just tell me and I will stop. I promise.” After I nod again, he wraps his arms around me and rolls us over so that he’s on top of me. I look up at him, still wondering about that look in his eyes. 

He leans closer to me, and I hold my breath as his forehead touches mine. “Just relax,” he whispers. "You trust me, right?" Something wavers in his gaze. Is he as nervous about this as I am..?

I give him a gentle smile, hoping to reassure him. "Of course I do."

He nods and takes a breath before speaking again. “The pain only lasts for a moment.” He moves closer to my neck, gently pushing my hair aside before hovering his lips over my pulse. “But I promise that you’ll feel much better right after.”

Before I could ask what he meant, Arthur’s fangs pierce into my skin, and my eyes widen as I yelp aloud. “AH!” 

The pain is sharp and intense, and I feel as if my neck is on fire. My eyes begin to fill with tears as the wave of pain spreads throughout my body.

But a short while later, the pain starts to fade until it feels... nice..?

An involuntary moan spills out of my mouth, but I’m too overwhelmed by the feeling to quiet myself. What is this feeling anyway..?

Pleasure? No… More like ecstasy radiating throughout my entire being. 

The spot on my neck continues to throb, becoming more intense as it travels down to the rest of my body, setting everything on fire.

Arthur begins to suck on my neck, and I wrap my arms around him, almost instinctively. “Mmm…”

It feels so good… 

My fingers tangle through his hair and he moans onto my neck.

I want more…

I pull him closer to me, and he presses his chest against mine.

I want him...

This feeling. It wasn't just lust. It was…

I have to tell him…

He lifts his head and gazes at me.

I need him...

My eyes dart down to his lips, now lightly stained red from my blood.

Arthur...

He's inching closer to me, his lips hovering over mine. So close, nearly touching.

Our gazes lock onto each other, and he whispers to me. "Do you want this, _____?"

I stare into his dark blue eyes. Those beautiful eyes filled with longing… need… and something else…

The right thing to do is to say "no." Even if I do like him, I still have to return to my own time sooner or later. I didn't want either of us to get hurt by that inevitable future. But now that I'm facing him like this, I'm not sure if I can hide my feelings any longer…

So I nod. "Yes." There's no point in running now. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. "I want this. I want you, Arthur."

His eyes widen with surprise. He whispers my name as he lifts a hand to my cheek, and I lean into his touch. We draw closer to each other, closing the distance between us until…

We're kissing. Arthur and I are kissing. It's a gentle, slow kiss so achingly sweet that I nearly cry when our lips first touch. The taste of his lips sends a thrill through me that I have never felt before.

Soon enough, the kiss grows more passionate, sending even more flames throughout my body. My lips part slightly as I moan, and his tongue easily slips into my mouth. I cling onto him, and he holds me tight as our kiss deepens.

And then we break apart, our foreheads touching as we catch our breaths. As if waking from a dream, I blink at him, dazed. "Did we just..?" I didn't just imagine that, right?

He's as shocked as I am. "I… I suppose we did…" He looks into my eyes, searching for something. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you..?"

His concern for me is so sweet that I nearly kiss him again. "No," I shake my head. "Well, it did hurt a little bit. But you were right: the pain didn't last very long." I blush, still feeling the flames inside me that have yet to be quelled.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Good." His head moves back to my neck, and he peppers the spot he bit with light kisses.

"Ngh… Arthur, what's this for..?" I ask, even though I don't want him to stop.

He lifts his head and looks up at me with a sheepish smile. "To apologize for hurting you."

"Arthur, it's alright, really."

"I still feel bad though. So I hope you'll accept my apology."

Honestly, how much sweeter can this man be? "Of course I do."

Another lovely smile. "Thank you, _____."

I return his thanks with another kiss, and I feel his lips curve into a smile as he kisses me back.

I really do love him…

The kiss is short and sweet. After we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. “Can I kiss you again..?” he asks in a soft voice.

I raise an eyebrow and move away a little to tease him. “What for?”

He pouts as he moves closer to me. “To ask you to stay.” My eyes widen with surprise at his answer. He wants me to stay..? “I don’t want you to leave...” His hands move up to cup my cheeks, and my heart aches at his gentle touch.

“Arthur, I have to go back someday…” I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry at the thought of leaving him.

“I know…” His thumbs gently caress my cheeks as if he’s wiping away the tears I refuse to let fall. “But until then, can we stay like this? Together, I mean?”

I open my eyes to look at him again. “Together..?”

He nods. “I want to be with you, _____. Even if it’s for this short blissful while, I want to be with you.”

His honest confession is too much for my heart to handle. “Yes,” I say as the tears rush down my face. “Yes, of course. I want to be with you too, Arthur.” I wrap my arms around him and hug him close to me. “I don’t want to leave you…”

He holds me close. “You don’t..?”

“Of course not. You’re my best friend and… I love you too much to leave you." I bury my face onto his chest, his scent washing over me.

“We’ll figure something out, my love. But for now…” His index finger gently lifts my chin up, and his lips meet mine once again. Our kiss is slow, and we take our time tasting each other, exploring each other, loving each other. 

We take our time to make this short eternity last because we don’t know when it will end.

[currantlee]

You mentioned awhile back that you think Felix has some autistic traits. I'm curious to know what traits you think he has? And, to make it interesting, how you think that would affect his relationship with Sylvain?

Before I answer that, I want to clarify for people who don’t know me and might read this that I am an autist myself (Aspie to be completely clear), so I know what I am talking about here. Also, please keep in mind it’s a spectrum. No two autists are alike, not in regards of their symptoms or personality. I know several other people with my diagnosis and some of them show symptoms I don’t while others don’t have symptoms I’m showing.

Update as of the current day: it seems that I have been misdiagnosed with Asperger’s and actually suffer from hospitalism (which does have some of the same symptoms as Asperger’s does) due to years of emotional manipulation and abuse from my mother. I sincerely apologize for falsely saying that I have Asperger’s. I didn’t know any better.

Alright, buckle up, because this is going to be a long post.

Felix’ Aspie Traits…

First up, I think Felix shows signs of Asperger’s Syndrome. Americans will likely know this as high-functioning autism, since it’s as far as I know not an official diagnosis in the US (it apparently used to be, but it was merged into autism spectrum a while back). In Europe and Asia however, it still is it’s own diagnosis.

As for the signs of the syndrome Felix shows: the most obvious one is his dislike / inability to make direct eye contact, which he even admits himself. This is a very common trait of especially aspies and everyone has a different way of describing how it makes them feel uncomfortable. I personally find it impossible to focus on what a person actually says if I do make eye contact. That is because making eye contact for too long actually freaks me out a little, for reasons I can’t explain. It’s just… Scary.

Another obvious trait is Felix’s focus, which borders obsession, on swordfighting. You can clearly see that he is hesitant to do anything, unless it benefits his swordsmanship in some way. For example, he asks Byleth why he should learn magic. If they reply that it will benefit his swordsmanship, he will regard that as a good answer. Another example is Flayn asking him to chop wood and vegetables for him. He only does it once she points out how this would serve as a great exercise for him.

This ties in with another thing about him: dissociation. No, I don’t meant the personality disorder. It is merely the process of getting completely absorbed into something (like a task or a daydream). It is a way to deal with all the information that floods our brains because our perception filters don’t work properly.

You can clearly see in several of his supports that Felix gets so lost in training that he doesn’t realize when people try to address him anymore, even if they are standing right next to him, most notably his support with Dorothea.

A less obvious trait is the fact that Felix can possibly not tell if someone is joking or not (and yes, that actually takes me some time as well every time someone in that game jokes). While he plays it off with his snarky attitude, which makes it seem like he is simply annoyed, there is more than a few examples in which he takes a joke deadly serious. An indicator for that is that Sylvain is always quick to tell him that he was joking with something, possibly because he knows how hard it is for Felix to recognize a joke (I mean, it is kind of obvious if you have grown up with an Aspie even if you didn’t know they have this condition - at least I have been told so by a childhood friend of mine). Yes, he does it with others as well, but he is never as quick with it as he is with Felix.

This also shows in the fact that he is unable to understand metaphors. A great example of this can be found in his support with Bernadetta, wherein she tries to explain him why she isn’t scared of him anymore by telling him that ghosts are only scary because you can’t see or talk to them (however that is supposed to explain it…). Felix immediately mistakes this for Bernadetta thinking he is a ghost.

A far less noticable result of this trait is the fact that he tries to make sense of anything. While this may not be seen as a result immediatly, let me explain. Aspies have two ways of dealing with their natural non-understanding of social stuff. They either back off and isolate themselves (mostly children do that) because they are scared or they start to observe and ask questions.

In Felix’s support with Annette for example, Annette just sings something because she feels like it. Felix however immediately tries to find the logic behind her lyrics, questioning them because they don’t make any sense to him (since he doesn’t understand Annette is just singing for fun and not trying to put a message into her lyrics).

This also shows how Felix finds it difficult to empathize with others. Unless something is very clearly explained to him, he just can’t make sense of it because his brain works different from others. Another example for this is his support with Lysithea: when he catches her eating cake, he just thinks nothing about it. Lysithea however immediately starts interpreting his reaction (like… “Normal” people do this so often and I cannot state how confusing and annoying I find this) and thinks he might go tell everyone. Therefore she gives him the cake in an attempt to keep him from doing so (even when Felix never intended that), which is something he finds absolutely confusing. First up, he doesn’t understand why she thinks he’s going to tell everyone (showing that Felix has no idea how a complex social concept like reputation works) and second, he doesn’t understand why she gives him the cake and assumes she wants to annoy him. Which is not the case: to Lysithea, her cake is something really important, even precious. That is why she gives it to him and it is also why she tries to teach him the value of cake later on. Anyone else, even if they hate cake, would probably acknowledge this gesture as something very sweet.

Another thing this support also shows is how Felix also has problems adapting to a new, sudden situation. He absolutely refuses to try her cake, which she made for him and him only. I mean, he gives in eventually, but before that he is pretty insistent. I know he doesn’t like sweet stuff, but out of being polite, anyone else would probably at least have it given a try without all the arguing. While this is also a good example for how Felix doesn’t understand the concept of politeness (I mean, he is very blunt anyways), it also shows how he finds it hard to adapt to new situations. I mean, he probably tried cake before, but never Lysithea’s cake. Also, she made it specially for him, so she probably thought about how he doesn’t like sweets.

Speaking of politeness though: I often hear that all Aspies / autists in general are very, very polite. This is not true though. Many of us are indeed more polite than “normal” people because first, basic rules of politeness (like not talking with your mouth full of food) is something you can easily learn. Most autists will be happy to, because those rules are actually very, very clear and not open to interpretation. It means it is something we can easily do right. Some other basics (like you don’t tackle people in the subway) are also something that comes naturally because… Ever tried tackling an autist? Please don’t.

However, as I mentioned before, it is a spectrum. Not every autist is alike. There are also enough autists who do either question or not understand those rules. As for bluntness… I think almost every autist will agree that we don’t get lying for the sake of being polite. Which results in the famous pointing out how terrible you friend’s new hairstyle looks (and not even understanding what you did). Felix’s bluntness is similar to that.

Felix is also shown to not interpret additional meanings into words and therefore come up with unconventional things in his support with Ingrid: aside from the fact that he leaves early (another example of him being unable to understand social rules as long as no one explains them), he suggests stuff like stealing the enemy’s horses (which is actually a logical thing to do), meaning something outside of the battlefield. Everyone else apparently assumes they are talking about strategies on the battlefield, when actually only strategy in general is mentioned.

There is something I want to make clear about all of this: autists, and it doesn’t matter if high-functioning or not, are not dumb. They simply lack the instincutal knowledge about social interaction normal people have.

A little quirk: Aspies tend to collect things, even if it is absolutely senseless or even very, very strange from a rational perspective, even to themselves. For example, I know someone who actually collects DLCs, including those they don’t even own the game for. I used to collect soaps because I liked the smell, but never used them. Eventually they got bad and I had to throw them away, but recently I started collecting Copic markers (don’t worry, I actually use those). Felix has a little more of a sensemaking collection: he collects swords. And yes, not all people collecting stuff are automatically aspies. It is just a quirk that is very present within the spectrum.

And now another quirk: Felix is bad at harmonizing. This is actually a common thing: aspies do not have a good control over their voice. While this doesn’t mean we’re all bad singers, it means we tend to talk too loudly, too quietly, very monotone (though this mostly affects Aspie children) and yes… It is hard to talk and sing when others are doing it as well. For example, I never had a problem with singing in front of a class and always had great marks on that. But as soon as it came to choir singing or choir speaking (baaaaaad memories of some language classes here by the way), I really struggled with it. Because while I’m not exactly bad at singing or speaking, I absolutely suck at harmonizing. Funny thing: it is the same with most Aspies I know except one who has sund in the church choir her entire life. So yeah, I can feel Felix here.

Also, Felix is a great example on how autists are never the same: he can keep it short. I obviously can’t.

… and how they could affect his relationship with Sylvain

Alright. You asked for headcanons, you get headcanons.

Getting Together

I think Felix and Sylvain might have a hard time getting together to be honest. Like… It is a constant dance around each other, constantly backing off as they try to adjust to each other.

I think the biggest issue in any autist-nonautist-relationship is recognizing and adjusting to each other’s wishes, needs and boundaries. For example, you can’t expect an autist to cuddle with you every day, just like that. On the other hand, “normies” usually yearn for exactly that: physical affection, be it in form of handholding, cuddling or sexual contact.

So at the end, both sides need to make compromises. Sylvain would have to come to terms with the fact he can’t (immediately) get what he wants, while Felix would have to metaphorically descent into the cold water, meaning doing something he isn’t exactly comfortable with (at first). If you have ever stepped into a cold lake or pool, you know you should rather take the stairs than jump… At least, that holds true for me. You have to adjust to the temperature, which takes a while. It’s the same with adjusting to new situations for Aspies, really.

Like… Once they are actually together for the first time, the first thing Sylvain does is dragging Felix away from the training grounds since Felix doesn’t quite understand that being in a relationship doesn’t mean being alone next to each other. Which leads to Felix breaking up for the first time because “I don’t need a relationship then”.

I think he comes to Sylvain again after like a week because he wants to give it another try. But only if he doesn’t have to spend all of his time with Sylvain. He spends more and more time with Sylv than with his sword though as time goes by.

So yeah. I think it would be a very slow burn between them, a constant dance around each other. They might also break up a few times because Felix isn’t ready or Sylvain notices he is getting too impatient before getting together for good.

Being Together

I think each of them still has their own room at the Officer’s Academy and also when they’re in the army after the timeskip. Doesn’t mean they don’t sleep in the same bed though. However, Felix absolutely refuses to let Sylvain enter his room in the beginning because Sylvain always, always puts something where it doesn’t belong in Felix’s opinion.

Felix is a side sleeper and also refuses to not sleep with his swordhand free. Sylvain usually sleeps on his back and takes up way to much space on the pillow for Felix’ taste, so Felix usually abuses Sylvain as his personal pillow when they share a bed. I think Sylvain likes that though.

Also, when they’re sleeping in different rooms, they usually swap their pillows around, so they are at least able to smell each other. I think that one develops from Sylvain stealing Felix’ pillow as a joke when the latter refuses to sleep in his bed once - Felix actually breaks up after that once more because he feels pressured. Once Sylvain has cleared the misunderstanding and they’re together again though, Felix decides to respond to Sylvain’s joke by stealing his pillow as another joke.

When they’re doing stuff together, they are often comprimising or trading favours. Like… If Sylvain trains with Felix, they go into town together afterwards.

Or they snuggle under the starry sky together because Sylvain wanted to cuddle while Felix just wanted some quiet time for themselves and maybe talk a little. They speak about different constellation’s names (Sylvain probably knows them all because he used to impress girls with those) and how Felix thinks constellations are an absolutely stupid thing because he sees different things in them. In the end, they end up thinking of their own constellations (like the Sword with a Strange Grip or the Horse that Feels a Little Nausy).

Another headcanon: Felix actually hates other people laying hands on his hair / head, because he is pretty sensitive there. However, Sylvain practices to be carefuly only for the chance to do Felix’ hair. So sometimes, he lets him and just grits his teeth while Sylvain is busy. However, I think Felix loves Sylvain washing his hair.

They also like to take each other out for lunch / dinner or spending time at the library in the evenings once the training grounds are closed. Also, Sylvain is a romantic sap who likes to drag Felix to watch the sunset at the fishing pond. He might even get Felix to play some boardgames.

Alright, the next section is something I’m usually not so fond talking about and I really went back and forth on if I should add it to this post for quite a while, but I decided to give it a go because this is something normal people might actually find a little comedic (note: I don’t really mind if Aspie traits are used in a comedic way in media, as long as the figure having those traits is not warped into a total joke through that or heavily stereotyped. If you are, then that is fine, everyone feels different about it). I personally didn’t understand the comedy of this until it was explained to me by some frineds. I think I can empathize a little on why people think it’s funny by now, even though it’s definetly not my kind of humor, so I decided to give it a go.

Basically when Sylvain suggests having sex with him, Felix is like “Why? If you want to have a baby, you would need a girl to do that!”

The background of that is that while many Aspies gain some understanding of the emotional component of sexual contact, most Aspies I know (including myself) struggle with understanding this nature, especially if they have zero personal experience. Rationalized, it is merely a tool to get babies and that is exactly how many Aspies I have met think about it, at least before gaining experience.I figured Felix might share this view at least initially, before he gains some experience.

Alone Together

However, I think that they not only have separate rooms, but also live separate lives. Like, they never really get married. That’s not entirely a Felix thing though. I think both value their independency too much to make themselves depend on someone, Sylvain perhaps a little less than Felix.

I think there would be countless examples of being alone together, like when both are reading books in the library. They’re technically together, but they aren’t interacting.

Felix does especially need space when he experienced a sensoric overload or after he was arguing with Sylvain. I think when either is the case, Sylvain always finds him at the stables later on, where his horse is. Sometimes, Felix is asleep, sometimes he is awake but barely approachable. I also think Sylvain’s horse often lays down next to him and Felix likes to pat it. In any case, Sylvain always gets him a blanket and waits until Felix comes to him again (because he will, it merely takes him some time).

Due to this, Sylvain probably gets him a cat some time. Felix mentions in his support with Bernadetta how he “doesn’t dislike” cats, so I think he is fine with that. The cat usually also follows Felix if he needs space.

Animals and autists often get along very well. We have a natural or developed liking for them, as they are easier to communicate with than humans and know when to leave us alone. Also, they actually communicate to other humans when to stop, which is often helpful for both sides. So yeah, I think the cat would do that as well. And of course, it would take up the entire space in the bed when Sylvain wants to sleep there (which might actually be something they argue over).

And yeah… That’s actually all :3 Thank you for the ask!

[kpopchangedme]

Plot Twist [M] | Park Jinyoung

Being locked up until tomorrow morning with your biggest rival in the Archery team might not be all bad after all...

Protagonists: Park Jinyoung & You

Word Count: 5.5k

Genre: NSFW - Enemies to Lovers - Romance - Smut *explicit* - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “Dramas did not prepare me for this”

Requested by: @prettywordsyouleft, I hope you like this, even though, I’m sooooo sorry... I’ve made it smutty because I got carried away!!

GOT7 | M.list

There are a lot of things that you love about archery and only one that you vehemently hate. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been excelling at it ever since you first picked up a bow. As soon as you showed promising skills, your parents ensured you’d turned out to be one of the greatest. You’ve trained with the most successful archers, former Olympians... Won all the most important awards and competitions... Entered the most prestigious sports-study program on a full scholarship...

And look where all that got you… Stuck with the only thing you absolutely hate about it.

Fighting your suffocating feeling of helplessness, you kick the closest object on the floor. Whatever it is, it crosses the room in a blink, hitting a shelf full of supplies that then wobbles dangerously.

“I’d appreciate not being buried alive by dirty Football gear,” his voice cuts through the darkness and you turn to glare at him, “thank you very much.”

“Shut up Park,” your harsh reply is instantaneous, “or else...” 

Yes, literally stuck with him; Park Jinyoung, an archer almost as good as you, your nemesis, your relentless competition.

Locked in a dark supply closet, connecting to the Archery team’s interior training ground. You’re dumb enough to have let the door close behind you when you knew it automatically locked from the inside. Jinyoung is even dumber for having followed minutes after; probably curious as to where you disappeared. You didn’t manage to catch the door in time before it shut, condemning you both to each other’s company. Although you two usually train late at night in the gymnasium, you always ignore and avoid the other. It’s a safety technique you’ve developed, keeps you from ending up in jail for his murder, especially since you’re armed most of the time. Unfortunately, since you train alone, there’s no way of knowing when people will notice you’re missing, even less find you in here.

“Or you’ll make me?” Jinyoung snorts in distaste, “You always had a bias for the dramatic. What more can you do? Being here with your is already Hell.”

“Ha. Ha.” You furiously wipe the sweat from your forehead. He’s right, with this bad of a company and ventilation, this supply closet certainly feels like the burning flames of Hell.

“Why are you always such an ass? It’s not like it’s my fault you followed me in here.” 

There’s a long silence before Park groans, and thanks to the security light of the gymnasium, shining through the crack under the door, you see him rub his face with both hands. “I needed to borrow an armguard from here, mine’s busted!” Saying this, Jinyoung shrugs it off, throwing the garment across the room. You hear it fly by more than you see, rolling your eyes when it hits a wall.

“Whatever you say, stalker.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You think everyone is obsessed with you!” He barks, clearly unpleased by the nickname. It’s something you’ve been calling him for years. You aren’t even sure when that even started, over ten years ago probably. All you know is that suddenly, an insufferable little boy started showing up every day to practice with you, and you had to share your trainers with him. He even got in the same exclusive program as you did, on the second scholarship. Much to your despair, he followed you everywhere, like a stalker. “All the guys from the team are wrapped around your little finger. They’d do anything to get in your pants.” Even in the darkness, you see Jinyoung’s eyes narrow, spiteful. “I’m not desperate enough to settle for you.”

“Of course not, Park.” You smile, pushing his buttons despite the fact that you shouldn’t. “You’re too frigid and boring for me. I bet you’ve never even gotten into any woman’s panties.” You’re not sure why the guys crushing on you are a problem to Jinyoung, but he sure likes to rant about this whenever he has a chance. As if you’re making them fall for you on purpose. It’s not your fault you’re the only woman who made the team.

He exhales audibly in frustration; “You’re so full of yourself, y/n. I’ve never met someone as disturbed and with an ego as big as yours.” 

“The feeling is mutual. Ain’t that a blessing, Park? That we found each other...”

“And contrary to popular belief, I’m not a boring virgin...” He says this out of nowhere and pauses to cough and peel his shirt from his body unsuccessfully. As soon as he lets it go, the cotton sticks to his abs all over again. The heat in here in insufferable, you’ll suffocate at this rate, and you don’t have any water. “I just don’t obsess over you or sex like the others. The WAC are all I care about.”

The World Archery Championships, the gateway to the next Olympic Summer Games. One of the reasons you’re looking forward to you two being (obviously) eligible to participate, is the idea of competing against Park. He might be training and living here, but he’ll get to represent his country; South Korea. You’ll destroy his team’s female archers; you’re way better than any competitors of your generation. Even Jinyoung can’t argue with that. It helps you train to have a goal, someone to tear down. You discovered that when you first met him.

“Good to know what you fantasize about...” You announce, giving up on any sense of pride and decency. It’s way too hot in here to remain proper. “At least you won’t ever gawk at me.” Struggling with the wet fabric, you manage to take your t-shirt off. There’s no way you’re staying here all night, marinating in your own sweat. 

There’s a scoff of disbelief, loud and clear. “Are you trying to seduce me?” You freeze on your knees, finally freed from the disgusting piece of clothing. You did not expect him to assume anything like that. “I mean… People do talk a lot about you crushing on me... But I just told you I’m not interested, y/n.”

“You wish, Park.” You spit through your teeth, “I’m just melting over here.”

“Why does this feel like the plot of one of your dumb dramas?”

“Trust me. Dramas did not prepare me for this.”

“Lock two people in a blazing room, wait for them to strip and they end up…” He completes his sentence with less than appropriate hand gestures.

“Ew, I’d sooner fuck Wang than you.”

“I hear you already did.” Jinyoung almost sounds vexed, but you’re too embarrassed to look his way and confirm. Sure, you have enough confidence to sit there in your bra, but it doesn’t mean you want to hold his gaze while you’re half-naked. “I’m probably cleaner than he is.”

“Probably.” You agree with a shrug. Why does he even care? “But the major difference is; I don’t hate Wang.”

A loud silence falls between you, almost deafening in the tiny space of the sealed off storage. It stretches, and it’s after five minutes or an hour of this that Jinyoung loses his mind. You don’t know, none of you has a phone; they’re prohibited during practice.

“That’s it!” Jinyoung barks, jumping to his feet. “I’m not spending all night in here, listening to shit like this!”

You watch, unbothered as he paces back and forth, eyes glued to the vent that is pushing warm air in. What is he planning to do? Crawl in there like a spy? Suddenly, Jinyoung takes off his own training shirt, and you try not to stare. Oh shit, he’s built, you hadn’t noticed before. Nice arms and shoulders, he’s an archer after all. He even has an amazing torso. Amazing? You blink, tearing your eyes away from his honey skin. What is wrong with you, are you having a heat stroke? That is Park Jinyoung! Your worst enemy; the boy who boasted about breaking your Target Archery long standing record after he only had been training for a year!

“10 bucks say you can’t fit in there.” Despite the situation, you want to further annoy him.

You visually compare his sculpted shoulders to the metal frame of the air vent. Huh huh. No way. Jinyoung doesn’t even bother acknowledging your bet. He’s busy rummaging through the stuff on the nearest shelf, emptying the content of plastic milk crates to pile them. He still has a long way to go through, that ceiling is high. 

“Come here, y/n.” He eventually requests, groaning as he pushes the shelf to make space.

You raise a brow in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Jinyoung stands, raising his arms to the sky. “Come on, you’re right. I obviously don’t fit it there!”

“You want me to crawl into the hot air vent?” Your whole face twists in horror, the man must have truly lost his mind. “Who am I, Kim Possible?”

“Let’s spend some quality time together then… We have all the time in the world to talk things through… See where that gets us, maybe we can even become friends.” He leans against the shelf, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, and I hope someone needs something from this storage tomorrow morning!”

Before he’s done with his sentence, you’re up next to him. “Ok, what’s the plan?” 

He shakes his head, probably impressed with his own convincing skills. “This obviously runs straight over to the gym, I’ll help you get inside. If you manage to find a way out, you can unlock me. If not… We’ll just be back to square one.”

You’re skeptical when you watch him get on the wobbly pile of crates and open up the vent, but you have to admit the risk seems worth it. You’d rather be stuck in there than down here with him anyway. Careful, you accept the hand he’s offering to help you up on the fortune pyramid. Once you’ve joined him, you’re closer than you’ve ever been before. Your mouths are inches apart. It’s the first time you smell the sweat on his skin or see him like this. You feel a shiver run down your spine, something instinctive that you push aside. Before you can wrap your head around this effect he seems to have on you, Jinyoung’s hands are on your hips. He hoists you up, using his bent knee as a step. Your legs stick to his damp chest, and he looks up expectantly. You’re glad it’s too dark for him to read your expression because he’d never let you live if he saw. You just discovered you find him attractive, and the whole situation is… Perhaps that’s because of what he said earlier about dramas, but…

“This is beginning to feel more like a torrid porno than a drama.”

You regret the joke as soon as you say it. His eyes go dark. “Good to know what you fantasize about... But I’m just trying to get us out of here.” You inhale sharply at his reply, brought back to reality. “Help me a bit, y/n,” Jinyoung asks, voice even more tensed, “with your arms...” 

Slightly out of it, you take your hands off his shoulders like he’s ardent. They treacherously found that support by reflex, to keep your balance when he grabbed you. Shit. Obeying, you reach for the metal frame to pull as he lifts. Faster than you expected, and with much ease, you find your way to the ceiling. Boy must have been working out. 

“Can you m-make it?” He grunts distractingly under you. Why are you even finding that sound sexy now? You really need to get out of this damn closet, or else...

“Yes, I think I… Let me just…” Arms first, you twist your way through the entrance of the vent. It’s scorching, hotter than you expected, and dark as night. Once you’ve managed to get your chest inside, you feel his hands slide on your thighs, almost on your-

“Park!” You shout into the echoing metal and he stops.

“Something wrong? You’re halfway in.”

Your mouth opens in awe, understanding he doesn’t care what he’s touching at all. Jinyoung might as well be frigid for real; you’re the only one affected apparently. He resumes pushing, fingers digging the back of your thighs, probably marking them. With his help, you worm your way inside, managing to win a few inches by twisting and wiggling. Trying not to think of his hands on you like that… It is way harder than you expected, even if you’re inside a disgusting enclosed space. What a sight this must be for him, your ass dangling like that.

“Shit.” You hear his muffled curse and freezes. Park Jinyoung never swears.

“W-What?” Sweat is dripping from your face, falling in the burning metal. If you stay here longer, you’ll roast like a chicken on a grill.

“Hum, I don’t think your as… Your h-hips aren’t gonna make it.”

“What? No! Push!” Squirming with a renewed fervour, you feel him directly press on your ass cheeks this time. Unfortunately, he’s right. Although you try your best, the metal frame only digs your hips dolorously. You give up after a minute; you’re completely wet by then. The air in there is barely breathable, and both the physical effort and the idea of his close proximity have drained you. “Get me out.”

There’s nothing, no answer.

“Get me out, please!” 

Your eyes round in horror, panic rising. Surely he wouldn’t abandon you like that… Wiggling, you try to back away, but you lack the support and strength to escape this Hell.

“... Park?” Your voice is nothing but a miserable whimper this time. You lay there, inert, halfway through the burning air vent. That’s the single stupidest thing you’ve ever done; trust him. “Jinyoung!” Your tone is shakier than you’d wish, but his muted answer finally comes.

“I was considering…” He clears his throat, clearly embarrassed by something. “What if you took your shorts off? I think the-”

“Please, get me out! It burns!” You beg, unable to tell if he’s joking. By this point, your naked skin is painfully sticking to the metal. It was the worst idea. You start to cry, tears stinging your eyes. “Jinyoung, please-”

“Ok ok! I got you!” His hands are back on your thighs, pulling you to him.

You back out as fast as you can, skin marking even if you’re careful not to get stuck and burned. It takes double the time as it took to get in. When you finally exit, your panic causes you both to fall off the pile of crates. Your breathing is erratic as you sit, back on the floor of the closet. You’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow, but at least you’ve made it out. You don’t even realize Jinyoung is the one who absorbed most of the drop. Running your hands over the wet hair that has escaped your ponytail, you try to calm down unsuccessfully. You thought you were going to suffocate in there.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jinyoung manages to sit. He winces, hands catching your forearm to better see one of the red marks in the dim lighting. “I didn’t consider how hot it’d be.”

“I- I- I t-thought,” you pant, half-hyperventilating, half-weeping. “You l-left me!”

Jinyoung’s face falls, almond eyes rounding. “I’d never, y/n…” He cups your cheeks, wiping your tears and sweat with his thumbs. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt.” He keeps stroking you, and you let him do it, forgetting for a brief moment that you hate him. Your breathing begins to slow down, matching his. “I’m so sorry it was a bad idea, but I’d never do this on purpose. Ever. Why would you even think that?”

“You h-hate me.” You whine and he scoffs, breath ghosting over your face.

“Whom would I fight with if you weren’t there?” Jinyoung chuckles still holding you like he’s also forgotten he’s not supposed to. You blink, unable to comprehend his words. You’ve known him for years; you’ve been playing this game for a long time. You know the rules. Trying to tear away, but he follows. Really, what’s with you and him tonight? You whine ever so slightly and the corner of his pout jiggles. “If this was a drama… That’s when I’d kiss you.” After this, he coolly sits back, leaning on his open palms and making his forearms flex. You stay there frozen still, in a daze. What was that? 

Annoyed, to be this affected, you turn to hit his arm roughly. “What’s with you and all these drama ref-” Jinyoung’s mouth muffles the rest of your scolding.

He’s kissing you. 

Park Jinyoung is kissing you, and you should fight back… Unfortunately, the only thing you do at the moment is laying on the floor, tugging at his neck for him to remain over you. Wow, that’s not what he expected. Jinyoung follows, apparently not minding your sweaty state and poor presentation. You’re not doing any better, fingers digging the muscles of his shoulders. You had no idea he was this sexy all along; it feels like you should’ve been made aware of this. If you had, perhaps you wouldn’t have been as surprised and overwhelmed tonight. You wouldn’t be giving in to this crazy urge of having him all over. Jinyoung’s mouth opens yours and your tongues meet messily. None of you cares or wants to retake control of the situation, you’re just going at it. Making the best of a shitty night. His left hand is between your head and the floor; the other one is caressing down your belly gently.

“I thought you weren’t interested...” Managing to get the words out, you feel his breath on your cheek when he chuckles. 

“Just this once, just now.” He replies, nose nudging yours. “I thought you hated me.” 

“I still do.” Your nails trace his spine, leaving a scratch behind. He rolls your lower lip between his teeth, straight up challenging. His mouth drops to your jaw, exploring down on your neck. You shut your eyes, feeling his teeth graze your collarbone. “Jesus.” Curving against his chest, you hush, and he hums on your skin, pleased by the reaction. Jinyoung’s hand drops from your stomach to your hip, then to your thigh and ass. It stays there, holding on tightly. That’s your cue to reach for a t-shirt that was abandoned on the floor earlier, using it as a fortune pillow. When he offers you a quizzical look, you smirk. “Who knows how long we’ll be here… Might as well make us comfortable. Oh, and tell me... What do we do to kill time, now that your escape plan has failed?”

His erection is already pressed on your thigh through his shorts, and there are goosebumps all over your body. You hate to admit, but you’re so turned on you want to take this further, and you hope he’s on the same page.

Nothing could have prepared you to his burning look right then. “I have a few ideas...” He says, clicking his tongue. Before you can question anything, his mouth is trailing down your body with an obvious end goal. He kisses your belly button and pauses there, thumbs hooked into the waistband of your stretchy gym shorts. “If that’s fine by you,” Jinyoung adds in a business-like manner. Count on him to be so formal even when he’s unmistakably proposing to eat you out.

Your hands are already in your hair to hold on to something, and you nod, gaze crazy. He smirks, tugging your clothes down. As soon as you’re exposed, his mouth resumes. You should probably be more embarrassed by this weird intimacy. You feel sweaty and disgusting, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind so you quickly forget all about it. He grips your thighs to allow himself access. You arch, waiting for his touch, and he dodges your sex at the last second.

“Shit.” You swear when he keeps going down with his butterfly kisses, a chuckle shaking his shoulders. Jinyoung was never one to ruin an opportunity by shooting too soon, and apparently, he’s going to be the same when it comes to this. His lips are damp and soft, brushing all over the inner sensitive part of your thighs. Fuck, you’re already so ready. “J-Jinyoung…” You purr, wiggling under him for mercy. 

“Shit.” He seems to agree by echo, words muted by your skin. Leisurely, he comes closer to your sex again, like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s one Hell of a tease. Although you're not sure when you’ll get rescued, you’re pretty certain you’ll be dead by morning if he keeps this up. “You’re so pretty.” It’s so unexpected that you don’t know what to reply, so you don’t. Jinyoung presses the most infuriating kiss on your mons, making you tremble under him. Bringing his right hand under your ass, he spreads your labia, observing intently. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Park…” You whine, done with his antics. “Are you doing this just to make me hate you more?”

“But that’s my favourite part, y/n… Making you angry.” He smiles, smearing your arousal with his thumb. It’s clear he’s a little shit, even in bed. “I usually like to take it slow… But not you, no... You’re always doing things too fast. I bet you could already take my cock... Do you think you could?”

Ok, again, not what you expected from someone as buttoned-down as him. Your mouth remains ajar as you moan in reply, hips rising in hopes of pressing closer to his thumb. If you thought he was hot earlier, it was nothing; right now he’s the sexiest man ever. He has all the power, and you gladly let him have it for once. You want him too much to fight. Jinyoung eyes go dark once more, and he licks his lips. He lowers himself, but instead of pleasuring you, he takes his time to lick his own finger clean. 

“No arguing? Since where are you this horny for me?” Are you supposed to play along, is dirty talk his thing? How unexpected. It’s a fun new game. “I would have fucked you sooner if I knew.”

His words make your core clench on nothing. “Since you took off your shirt...” You’re a fast learner. “I’ve been dripping wet.”

“Locked in here with me...” Jinyoung sighs, gaze dropping to your glistening sex. “You said it felt like a torrid porno.” A sweat droplet falls between your breasts. “Those words coming out of your mouth… I’ve been hard since then.”

“Jinyoung.” You sing in awe, suppressing a shiver. You had no idea.

At his name, he decides he’s done enough teasing for now. He obliges after an eternity, licking up your slit. You gasp and he ends by pressing a kiss on your clit before doing it again. Shit. He repeats the gesture, tasting your juices one last time before concentrating on your bud. His tongue flattens, swirling and nudging your clit. It’s not long until he finds the perfect motion that has you jolting against his face. “F-Fuck!” You cry, not bothering to remain quiet when there’s no one to hear. He’s amazing. Shit, ‘not a boring virgin’ he said.

Running his fingers on your sex, Jinyoung smears your wetness until they’re soaked. Then slowly, he inserts one of them inside you to help his task. He doesn’t falter, obviously almost as heavily turned on as you by all this. Adding another finger, he keeps going, sucking more and more harshly until you’re practically dancing under him. The sounds filling the storage are filthy, but can’t find it in you to mind. You’re seeing stars, enjoying every single second as he eats you out. Jinyoung lasts longer than any guy ever, waiting diligently to build you up. He’s determined to show you he’s the best at everything, not just archery. This moment stretches out until you’re spent and clenching uncontrollably. He accelerates; not changing anything. He’s aware you can’t handle it for much longer and that it’s repetition that’s getting you off. Soon, your eyes roll into your head. You cry out his name as you come, thighs clenching around him. Your hips rise against his face one last time, and he sees you through your orgasm. Holding you until you’re done and clean before finally pulling away from your sex. 

Afterwards, you stay on the ground, panting, heartbeat deafening in your ears. You can’t believe you just came that hard on Park Jinyoung’s face. Jesus Christ. Shouldn’t you feel embarrassed? There’s no real reason to though, not when he’s the one who ate you this diligently in the first place. He clearly wanted it, asked. Unaware of your awkward train of thoughts, Jinyoung lies beside you, exhausted but still very smug of accomplishment.

“That was…” You begin shyly, but trail off. “I’ve never… With someone...” He rolls to kiss your shoulder, and h hard-on brushes you.

“Perfect.” Jinyoung simply replies, getting it, he’s even more pleased with himself. You turn to face him on the ground, breathing slowing down. Pecking his chin, you wrap your arm around his waist to pull him closer. You had forgotten where you were; in the gym’s dirty storage.

“Only many hours left ‘til morning...”

“Mmm…” He doesn’t pull away when your hand slip in his training shorts. “Due to an unfortunate incident, my schedule’s cleared tonight.”

“What are you saying, Park?” Tracing the outline of the strain in his briefs, you raise an eyebrow.

“I’m saying… I’m not too busy to make you come a few more times.” Jesus. He blinks, pulling you closer to add in your ear; “I’ve actually dreamt of having you like this for a long time.”

“Really?” You exhale, out of it. That’s impossible, you’d know.

“Sure. Every time the guys are around, you turn the charm on, but when we’re all alone...” The rest of his sentence is up in the air, but you get what he means. Jinyoung plops himself up on an elbow to read your reaction. “You never once wondered about what I think of your slutty training outfits? Then tonight you go and take your top off like I’m not in here. You’re always so mean to me, forgetting I’m a man too. ”

You cross the last barrier of fabric between him and your hand, smirking. Again, you had no idea he thought of you that way. Jinyoung immediately twitches in your palm, cock swelling even more at the skin-to-skin contact. He’s larger than you expected. “How am I doing now?” You coo, snuggling in his neck as you stroke him. 

“Better.” He admits, almost inaudible. Your hand tightens around his length and Jinyoung grunts. “Mean. I think I’ll have to fuck you hard a few times, teach you some respect.” With that, he rises above you and you laugh, helping to get rid of his shorts and underwear. When he’s freed Jinyoung lies between your legs, cock directly on your swollen cunt. 

You gulp, toes curling tightly from expectations. “How do those dreams usually go?”

Jinyoung’s jaw clenches in concentration and he rocks his hips, rubbing himself on your wetness. He breathes out haltingly, “Sometimes, you’re just bent over a chair at a championship, and I fuck you while everyone’s in the room.” 

“O-Oh!” Your eyes automatically shut when his tip brushes your clit.

“But more often, it’s like this; all sweaty after practice, no one else at the training ground…” His voice is strained, and you totally relate. Eager to feel him inside you already, you align him to your core. You can’t bear to hear shit like this anymore.

He doesn’t seem to mind the guidance. Almost instantly, he begins to push in. His head enters you slowly, and you spread your legs wider. You need him deeper, want him to fill you. Your tightened walls stretch around his cock until he’s inside you, throbbing. Jinyoung lets out a weird sound, almost breaking. He’s a lot less talkative now. Using your hands on his hips, you force him back and then forward, the friction nearly making you lose your mind.

“Shit.” Jinyoung breathes out, unstable. 

“Shit,” you confirm, word morphing into a groan when he moves again. He’s tougher this time, fingers digging your right thigh firmly.

He slides into you with ease, your core more than ready for his cock. Jinyoung finds a fast rhythm hitting you hard every time. You can’t believe how good it feels; letting him have his way with you like that. He thrusts powerfully for a moment before pulling out, much to your displeasure. 

“On all fours.” At his order, you hurry to flip while he observes, pumping his dick with your juices.

He’s back between your legs at once, spreading them with his own. Not wasting any second, he positions himself at your entrance. You fall on your forearms when he pushes back in, eyes rounding in ecstasy. He’s closer than before, cock fitting your core so perfectly you cry out. Shit. Jinyoung repeats his thrust, and you swear loudly, making him chuckle.

Again. Again.

He grabs your ass, sinking himself deeper, and with way more urgency. His balls hit you with every grind forward. Unforgiving, he keeps going until you’re on the very edge again, gasping. You arch even more, and when his hips meet your ass this time, you almost break. He hits something up your core that’s so intense it hurts of the greatest pain.

Again. Again.

You’re a mess, knees and ass burning, but you don’t want him to stop. You beg him to keep going and he does. Making sure to fuck you like no one has ever. Covered in perspiration, Jinyoung’s not holding back much better than you. He’s unsure if he’ll be able to keep pace much longer.

“C-Come!” Jinyoung requests with authority, and you whimper under him. “Come for me, baby!” 

As though his command is magical, you break apart; tightening and convulsing around him. He pulls out before being overwhelmed, letting you ride off your second orgasm on your own. It’s just in time because he comes right away too. Spilling on your ass with a shudder, unable to contain himself anymore. You don’t even seem to notice, head still in the clouds. He wipes off his mess with his briefs; not bothering to think about what he’ll wear later. Falling on the ground before him, you’re breathless and obviously completely satisfied.

This escapade will not help with his bravado when you’re back to reality. Jinyoung lies next to you, one of his arms under his head and the other one on your back. It’s as though he can’t stop touching you just yet. You are still too high to be self-aware and remember what you two are outside this storage. The silence that fills the air is nothing like earlier, relaxed and comfortable. It coexists with your breathing slowing down, yours and his almost synchronized.

It takes a long time for you to break it, unable to keep your train of thoughts to yourself. “What a plot twist to the drama.” Staring at the dark ceiling, you miss the smug smile on Jinyoung’s lips. 

“What is?” He asks, absentmindedly rubbing circles on the curve of your back to break the droplets of sweat accumulating there. 

“Us,” you reply after a heartbeat, “this.”

He snorts, “This isn’t a plot twist at all. Everyone saw it coming but you.”

Raising on an elbow to observe him, you frown in confusion; “Really?”

“Sure.” Jinyoung is smiling dumbly, an expression you have never seen him before. “What did you think all that sexual tension was going to amount for?”

You think for a moment. “Murder.”

He straight up laughs, loud and clear. “Jeez y/n. How can you be so dense...”

“Shuddup,” groaning, you nudge him and he catches your hand, “I hate you.” You both stare at your linked hands, not needing words to express your true feelings at the moment. “How many hours do you think we have before morning?” 

When you ask this, he turns to stare at you in disbelief. “Probably enough for us to die of dehydration if we keep this up...”

Smirking, you lower yourself for a kiss. “I dunno,” you murmur against his lips, “it’d sure be a sweet death...” Laughing quietly, Jinyoung pulls you over him.

You have no idea how long you’ll remain locked in this storage… But you’re certain you’ll use the time you have left wisely from now on.

GOT7 | M.list

[ineffablegame]

hey for the prompt thing: a/c 43 taking care when the other one's sick?

I hope this doesn’t feel like I phoned it in!  :o

Also available on my Ao3.

In Crawly’s defense, he hadn’t meant to get mixed up in Legion’s nonsense.

He hadn’t even wanted to be in Gerasa.  He’d been shooting for Pella, intent on meeting Aziraphale for evening drinks at a tavern of some repute, but he’d bungled the miracle and sent himself too far east.  He’s been in Gerasa not five minutes before Legion streaks past, clad in the body of an emaciated human and nothing else.  Stupid with shock, Crawly is helpless against Legion’s pull; it sucks him in, as powerful as gravity, and he is trapped inside the pinwheeling pandemonium of the human’s mind before he can so much as blink.  

Legion is a well-known party animal in the bowels of Hell.  Sometimes, they make for a roaring good time.  Whenever the ruling class of Hell looks away long enough for the lesser demons to drum up a party, Legion is always the first on the dance floor, badly-boogying their little heart out.  

This would all have been tolerable – fun, even – if that were the end of it.  But Legion is the sort of obnoxious partier that inspires frat boys ‘round the world to get spectacularly shitfaced, ratchet up the decibels of their bellowing with each successive drink, and plague every woman in a fifty-yard radius with atrocious pick-up lines and beer-rank breath.

They are, in short, an unholy pain in the arse.  And Crawly’s just been forced to share some poor sod’s body with them.  

“Crawly!” they exclaim.  Their voice is a cataclysm of shrieks and squeals and wrenching moans, impossible for the human larynx to replicate.  Crawly winces as pain lances through the man’s throat.  “How you doin’, buddy?”

“Uh, fine,” he replies automatically, because banal pleasantries are the only blessed thing that make sense in the careening carousal of flashing light flickering image dank dark gibbering sobs please let me go let me go let me GO—  “Er.  Just great.”  

“We haven’t seen you since… shit, can’t remember the last time!”

Yes, Crawly thinks, I’d been rather making an effort with that.

“Where are we?” he asks, because the sooner he gets past the basics, the sooner he’ll be able to disentangle himself and escape.  “Who are we?”

“Hell’s teeth, I dunno!” Legion bellows.  

“So why are we—”

“I was bored!  Buddy, am I glad you came along!  We’re gonna have so much fun with this stupid human!”

Crawly, inwardly grimacing, resigns himself to be an unwilling guest in the revelry.  Legion is an idiot with the attention span of a goldfish; the moment they lose interest and cast the wasted husk of this human body aside, he’ll be free.  He only has to wait.  

Three days later, Legion hasn’t lost interest.  And then Jesus of Nazareth wanders into Gerasa.  

“Hello, there,” says Jesus.

Legion may be a fool, but they know the Son of God when they see him. They pull back the man’s lips in a feral snarl.  “Dude, fuck off.  There’s, like, a ton of us.”

Jesus of Nazareth smiles benignly, head cocked, eyebrows arched.  Crawly, crammed inside a body that feels like it’s withering away by the minute, shivers with a soul-deep terror.  

“There certainly are a lot of you,” says Jesus.  “It’s not right, one person being so many.”  

As he speaks, each word uttered with total composure, Crawly becomes aware of the squeals and snorts of pigs nearby.  He clambers up to the human’s eyes, elbowing fragments of Legion aside for a look.  Over the Son of Man’s shoulder, a boy and his father are guiding their herd of swine toward the scene.  

“I think,” Jesus says, quiet menace creeping into his tone, “that you should go back to being separate.  Now.”

The change is dizzying in its suddenness.  Before Crawly can make sense of what has happened, he is looking up at Mary’s baby boy from an entirely different angle, snorting and snuffling and stamping his trotters in the dirt.  He’s been dropped into a bloody pig like a recalcitrant plant that’s outgrown its pot.  

The squeals around him reach a frantic pitch and Crawly turns, startled.  The other pigs are throwing back their heads with rending screams, eyes rolling, spittle flying from their mouths.  A fragment of Legion has been placed inside each one, and the separation is driving them mad with terror.  They barrel past the boy and his father, heedless of their staffs, and stampede down the rutted dirt road.  It is a narrow road, turning sharply to hug a cliff face overlooking a deep, cold lake.

Jesus blinks.

A thunderous rumbling sound judders over Legion’s screams and the road buckles, crumbles.  Crawly watches, relief warring with terror, as each pig topples after the other like chain link following chain link to vanish, shrieking and cursing, over the side of the cliff.  The sound of frantic splashing ensues, cut short with preternatural swiftness.  Silence descends.  

Jesus turns to Crawly, who shrinks into himself inasmuch as a two-hundred and fifty-pound hog can shrink.  But the Christ’s smile is no longer menacing; in fact, it’s practically pleasant, warming Crawly from the tip of his snout to the end of his curly tail.  His every demonic instinct warns him against that warmth – that his will is being leaned on, manipulated – but it’s difficult to focus when he feels suddenly so content.

“Hello, Crowley,” says Jesus.

“That’s not my name,” Crawly replies.  It’s all squealing and snorting, but the Word of Life understands him anyway.  

“My mistake,” Jesus says, in the unbothered, smiling way of someone quite certain they aren’t mistaken.  “Crawly, is it?”

“Maybe,” Crawly mumbles.

“Sorry about that.  The snout, I mean.  Legion had quite the hold on you.”

“Um… it’s fine…?”

“I’ll sort you out right now.”  Her Only Begotten Son rubs his palms together in a way that, some millennia later, will come to mind when Aziraphale embarks on his one-sided love affair with magic tricks.  “Send you off to your friend.”

“My wh—”

Crawly’s vision whites out before he can complete the question.  A moment later, blinking dazedly past the haloes branded on the backs of his eyelids, Crawly finds himself seated at a table, back in his own body.  Aziraphale, siting opposite of him with a jug raised to his lips, stares in wide-eyed amazement.  He lowers the jug.

“Crawly!” he says.  “Why, we were supposed to meet three days ago!  I was worried sick!”

“I’m—”  Crawly pauses, sniffling, and sneezes.  He pointedly ignores the offended expression on Aziraphale’s face as he shields the jug from a drizzle of snot.  Recovering with an accusatory look around the tavern, he continues, “Glad you were able to overcome your crippling worry and c—”  Another sneeze, and this time Aziraphale lifts the jug out of harm’s way.  Crawly soldiers on.  “Carry on without me.”

Aziraphale has the grace to look guilty.  “This is the seasonal menu.  It won’t last much longer.”

“Of course.  How silly of me.”  Crawly points at the jug.  “Give me that.”

“It’s mine,” Aziraphale sniffs.

“Angel.”  Crawly leans across the table, elbows propped on the gnarled wood.  “I’ve been stuck in a human’s body for the last three days with the most annoying demon this side of Creation.  After that, I was trapped inside a sodding pig.  Give.  Me.  That.  Drink.”

His speech would be more persuasive without a dribble of snot hanging off the end of his nose, but Crawly glares at the angel nonetheless, determined not to be cowed.  After a moment of staring, perplexed, Aziraphale passes him the jug.  

“You’re leaking,” the angel says petulantly.

“S’fine.”  Crawly takes a determined swig.  “It’ll pass in a minute, don’t you worry.”

-

It doesn’t pass.  In fact, over the next few days, the sneezing gets worse.  With it comes a ridiculous amount of snot, rivers of the stuff, and chills and fevers and stomach upsets that put him entirely off drinking altogether.  By the seventh day, he is bedridden, wheezing and certain he’s about to be discorporated with Someone’s inventive new take on the plague.  

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” Aziraphale says, miracling a square of linen to mop the sweat from his brow.  “You’ll be ship-shape in no time.”

“It was the pigs,” Crawly rambles, staring at Aziraphale with glassy eyes.  “I’ve… I’ve got a pig illness.  A pig flu.  A swine flu.”

Aziraphale, cold-hearted nurse that he is, merely scoffs.  “What rubbish.  ‘Swine flu.’”  He chuckles.  “I’m sure I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

“Bet it’ll be all the funnier when it kills me,” Crawly moans.  “Then you can laugh.”

“Hush.” Aziraphale lays a gentle hand on his brow.  There is no miracle at work – only the cool, steady pressure of his touch.  Somehow, that is enough.  Crawly closes his eyes with a sigh.  

[cat-scarr]

A friend of mine highkey just fucking implied that BenKai is healthy because they "negate each other". As in Ben is the only one that can handle Kai's bitchiness and Kai's the only one that can reign in Ben's ego. Not paraphrasing. She really said that. And I was like, bitch, put it up That's Ben Tennyson abuse ma'am you're going to jail—

Oh no. No no no I hate this argument. Prepare yourself. I’m about to go off…

First of all, Ben probably has the most humble “cockiness” I’ve ever seen. 

We all know those people (or at least have run into them at some point) that act as if they’re entitled to the entire world for no reason. 

Ben actually has a reason to be proud of himself, but does he ask for any more than a little credit? No.

He doesn’t demand fame and fortune in return for risking his life everyday. He barely even demands respect (that he deserves)!

He called himself “adorable” once (he’s right) and everyone somehow got it into their heads that his “ego” is extremely inflated. 

So much so that now they think he deserves to be stepped on - metaphorically and literally - in order to be a better character somehow. It’s just as bad as people who think that Ben has to actually lose someone close to him, like Max, in order to “really” mature.

Anyway, the reason Ben can handle her “bitchiness” is BECAUSE HE’S TOO GOOD FOR HER. 

How many times has Ben had to cooperate with people he didn’t particularity like or agree with in order to reach a common goal? 

How many times has Ben forgiven others and given them second chances even when they didn’t seem deserving? 

He literally made peace with aliens who previously wanted to kill, not only him, but EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE. He even made friends with one who was spitting insults in his face practically half of “Alone Together.”

He’s all about saving lives. Do you people know what that entails? 

What do we do with criminals? 

Either one of two things: punish those whose crimes are unforgivable, or attempt to correct their mindset, outlook, and behaviour in order to reintegrate them into society. 

Considering Ben’s “second chances” philosophy, which one do you think he leans towards more whenever reasonably possible? 

(Ben 10: Alien Force - “War of the Worlds Part 2″)

What I’m saying is that proves it’s in character for him to be cooperative rather than begrudging and vengeful.

It’s the begrudging and vengeful attitude that drives his enemies to keep coming back in attempt to end him. But as we know, it’s not productive. 

Holding a grudge implies being stuck in your ways. And, because Kai’s attitude towards Ben hasn’t changed much since they were ten, even after he saved her multiple times, in a sense, she is stuck in her ways as well. She’s stubborn.

And that is another argument people like to bring up to validate this pairing - that both Ben and Kai are stubborn. They have “similar flaws”, apparently.

But Ben is a different kind of stubborn. He never backs down but he’s always fighting the good fight.

Kai, on the other hand, is fighting the good guy.

I think the silliest argument I’ve heard in attempt to validate the claim that Kai is a good match is that she “fits” into his action lifestyle. Basically, unlike Julie, Kai doesn’t seem to have an issue with Ben being a full time superhero, so that automatically makes her more “suitable.“ 

But shouldn’t that be expected of someone dating a superhero?

By supporting your significant other’s passion, you are doing what you should be. It’s literally the bare minimum of being decent.

Am I supposed to be impressed by the bare minimum??

Besides, just because two people are in the same field of work doesn’t automatically mean they have chemistry. Being in the same line of work just means they’re in the same line of work. 

And, going back to my point about Ben’s second chances philosophy, they definitely wouldn’t work together so well if Ben wasn’t cooperating in the way he always tries to. 

The argument that they "negate” each other heavily undermines Ben’s character in order to attempt to place them on an equal level. 

Did Kai ever attempt to redeem herself for her “bitchiness”? No.

It just became a character trait. 

The truth is that everyone has flaws. And that’s not inherently a bad thing. A character having distinguishable flaws allows them to feel fleshed out. Flaws are a significant feature to focus on because they often stem from something deeper. The beauty is that, through character development, having flaws gives the character something to attempt to improve when their storyline and interactions with other characters provide them with chances to do so. 

You could see this with Kevin’s redemption, for example. Or even what is referred to as Ben’s “ego” throughout the continuity. 

But when Ben continuously gives Kai chances to be better, and she shuts him down, she ignores her own flaws. 

Notice that Ben doesn’t ignore what others perceive are his flaws. 

I say it like that because flaws are arguably subjective. But regardless, all those moments throughout the OS and UAF which show characters like Gwen, Kevin, Max, and even Azmuth critiquing Ben on his character actually did make an impact. Whether I think it was right or wrong is irrelevant to the fact that, by Omniverse, we had him explaining to an imaginary crowd what it actually means to be a hero.

(Ben 10: Omniverse - “Malfactor”)

“It’s about making a difference." 

In front of nobody but himself, where he could have just indulged in the fantasy, he put his “ego” aside to display the integrity of his character development by that point. 

If his ego was really so bad that it desperately needed to be squashed, then he wouldn’t be out here believing time and time again that everyone deserves a chance to be better.

(Ben 10: Omniverse - “Parallel Paradox”)

Perhaps it’s because he has always taken that chance himself, knows the benefit of it and wants to see others improve as well rather than being vengeful or begrudging. 

Kai is a…tragic case, tbh. 

The fandom likes to daydream about her “potential” and what she could have been. But truth of the matter is that the writers chose to present her this way. If they wanted to have her some other way, wouldn’t they have done that? 

Whether it was to make her somewhat interesting by being a source of drama, I don’t know. All I know is that they crossed the line between dramatic and toxic very quickly, and possibly without realizing. 

In conclusion, it also pisses me off is that these kinds of claims just gloss over the abuse. 

It’s not something to make light of just because Ben can "handle it.” I know he can handle rough treatment. That’s what his literal job entails. 

It’s not what his relationship should entail. 

If anyone else reading this still doesn’t believe me, please. Go get stepped on and belittled constantly and tell me that shit is romantic. Because I’ve had my fair share of experience with mistreatment and it hurts terribly. I can’t imagine having to deal with that on top of all the selfless manual labour he already chooses to do everyday.

[killervibe]

Written in Your Heart

A Killervibe & Frost/Ronnie Princess and the Pauper AU!

Summary: Once upon a time, in a village high on the mountaintop, two identical baby girls were born. One, into royalty and was named Princess Caitlin. The other, to a poor family working under a harsh dressmaker. They named her Frosteline. With lives so different, it wasn’t surprising that the Princess and the Pauper never met. But fate decreed they would.

Chapter One

~.~ 

Long ago, and far away, in a central village high on a mountaintop, something amazing happened. At the very same moment, two identical baby girls were born. One, a baby Princess. The King and Queen were overjoyed, for they had been longing for a child all their lives. Princess Caitlin would have only the finest. The second baby girl was named Frosteline. Her parents loved her every bit as much as the King and Queen loved Princess Caitlin. But they worried, fighting to make ends meet under the employment of a compassionless dressmaker.

 Many years passed and the Princess learned her royal duties, while Frosteline worked long and hard as a seamstress for the spiteful Miss Amunet. Frosteline's parents were long gone, resting in the cemetery under the grass. They had died in the same accident that took the life of King Thomas when Princess Caitlin and Frosteline were only twelve.

 With lives so different, it wasn’t surprising that the Princess and the Pauper never met. But fate decreed they would.

It all started at the Royal Mine, when the miners informed the Queen the gold had run out. The widowed Queen was shocked. The Kingdom would now surely go bankrupt. People would starve, find no work and will perish under these conditions. How was she going to take care of them with no more resources? If only she could call on her trusted advisor Hunter Zolomon, but he was away on a long journey to Star Kingdom. She needed to do something quickly to save the kingdom before they’d turn against the monarchy, or worse, each other.

 But what?

 And then it struck her. Nearby lived a rich young King who was seeking a wife.

 ~.~

 “Damn it,” Frosteline groaned, nursing her bleeding thumb at her hundredth prick of the day. “I just want a day to myself!”

 “I hear you, sister,” Ralph, her only friend chimed in from his own stitching across the room. After hours upon hours of labour in the dreary basement of Miss Amunet’s Dress Emporium, it often felt as though Ralph were the only other person on the planet. “You think the woman would hire more help.”

 “Hire more help?” Frosteline repeated incredulously. “We’re only here because we’re indentured servants, Ralph. Nobody in their right minds would willingly work here.”

 “Yeah, well. Nobody but our dear old dead parents, right?” Ralph stood up, cracking his back from lack of exercise. He walked across the room to inspect Frosteline’s injury. “Let me look at it. You’re bleeding.”

 Frosteline waved him off. “I’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes and hummed her mother’s old nursery rhyme as the cut stitched itself back together.

 Ralph didn’t like how her eyes glowed when she used her power. He made a noise of consternation, returning to his pile of fabric. “You’re lucky that Miss Amunet hasn’t yet accused you of witchcraft.”

 Frosteline froze over the wedding gown she had just crocheted. “Don’t call it that. I told you—I was born like this.”

 “It’s where you got your name, right, yes, I heard the story before. I just worry about your safety, Frost. Don’t think I don’t know you do magic shows in the village at noon.”

 “I make some snow for extra change. So what? The people like it.”

 Footsteps went thundering down the stairs. The two ran back to their workstations.

 “It’s not the people I’m scared of,” Ralph muttered under his breath.

 “I’m hearing whispers. What is this? A gossip club?”

 “I would’ve said a debtor’s prison,” Frosteline replied automatically. Ralph gaped at her from across the room. She too realized her mistake. She tended to talk before she used her brain. It was something she needed to work on.

 “Keep laughing, my lovely!” Amunet surveyed their work. She beamed, at the finished gown on Frosteline’s desk, showing all her teeth. “You’ll be working for me for another thirty-seven years!”

 “But I already paid off more than half!”

 Amunet hummed, undisturbed. “Oh, but haven’t you heard? The kingdom is going into a recession. So I’ve decided to remember....What was it again?" She drummed her fingertips against her face, pretending to ponder, then clapped her hands suddenly. " oh yes! There’s an interest, isn’t there? Your parents should’ve thought of that before they borrowed so much.”

 “They did it to feed her!” Ralph snapped. Amunet glared as he shrunk back in his wooden seat.  

  “Their mistake.”  She took the finished wedding gown and stuffed it in a box without so much of another word.

 Ralph mimed sticking a finger down his throat. Frosteline’s mouth twisted in disgust. She hated her too.

 ~.~

 Cisco turned the page of his leather-bound book. “That concludes your lesson in chemistry. Not that you needed it.”  

 The princess gave a reluctant sigh, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. “Already?”

 “Afraid so, Your Highness. Any questions?”

 All too well he knew Princess Caitlin mastered the subject. Still, the question posed became his favourite part of their scheduled time together, when the role of tutor and student bled into two best friends enjoying each other’s company.

 “Yes,” she said, poking at his tunic. “Do you believe it possible to discover more elements that would expand the periodic table?”

 ”Absolutely!” He nodded enthusiastically. “But not more likely than reaching the heavens, Caitlin.”

 The princess scooted her chair closer, leaning into her best friend’s side. Her cat, Bart, scratched his head against her leg. “You mean...” she lowered her voice before glancing aside, wary of her maidservants’ eavesdropping. “Extrapolating from the theories of Galileo and travelling to space?”

 Cisco grinned at her. “Precisely.” He laughed at her scandalized gasp. “Calm down, I’m jesting—”

  “Cisco! That’s not funny!”   

 Ah, his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never tire of hearing his name from her lips. She placed her hand over his arm and urged him to share his latest study.

 A knock on the door interrupted their moment, and Caitlin immediately removed her touch, leaning away.

 Harrison Wells, or Harry, as the royal family has grown accustomed to calling him, marched in with a long list and adjusted his spectacles. “We’re late! Late, late, late!”

 “Good morning Harry,” Caitlin greeted, hiding her dismay. Cisco rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that they disliked him. He was always to the point with his messages, and delivered them rather gruffly, but not unkind. Their annoyance had more to do with the fact every time Harry came to interrupt Caitlin’s lesson with Cisco, it meant the tutor had to go.  

 “Yes, yes. Good day, Your Highness,” he nodded at Cisco. “Greetings Ramon. Enough with the pleasantries. It is now time for your royal fitting, Princess. The gown just arrived this morning.”

 Princess Caitlin’s joy soured immediately, but she did not let her emotions show. “Yes, of course.”  

 “—It must last twenty, maximum twenty-two minutes, and then you have to rush, and I mean rush to your horticultural society tea. Then—”

 Caitlin tuned Harry out as Cisco shot her an apologetic smile.

 He packed his books hastily, “I best be on my leave.”

 “Oh no, Cisco. Please stay.”

 He hesitated, fiddling with the strap of his worn satchel, but could not ever deny the Princess anything. He nodded, watching as two maidservants ushered Caitlin behind the dresser to make alterations for her gown. “Maybe a few minutes more.”

 When she stepped out in silks and white tulle, his eyes lingered only on her face.

 She turned around on the step stool where the seamstresses fussed over the ribbons and bows when he called her name.

 “Yes?”

 “You’ll make a lovely bride.” His fingers twisted deep in the leather of the strap across his chest. Caitlin felt tears well up in her eyes, so many complicated words stuck in her throat. She could only manage to nod as Cisco suddenly left.

 She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to stay, she thought, as she watched him through her window. He was smelling the roses to record in his field journal in her palace gardens. As if he could sense her, he lifted his eyes from the flower he had to his nose up to her wing of the palace. The corners of his mouth tugged into a gentle smile as his hair blew in the breeze. Cisco waved at Caitlin. Her fingertips pressed against the glass as her heart sighed.

 Harry came back with a large box, clearing his throat. Her mother, the Queen, strolled behind. “Look, another engagement gift!”

 The Princess didn’t reply. The Queen bit her lip as she caught her daughter watch the tutor make his way out the royal gates and into the village. “You know it is vital you marry King Ronald. It’s the only way to take care of the kingdom.”

 Caitlin didn’t reply for some time, drawing strength from within and distanced herself from the window. She shot Harry and her mother a shaky grin and exhaled. “I know, and I will. It’s my duty.”

 ~.~

 In the deep dark caves of the Royal Mine, Hunter Zolomon celebrated his homecoming. 

 “It’s great to see you back boss,” Eddie Slick told him, wiping the grime off his forehead. “But you’re...early.” His accomplice, Sterling Brooks, popped out of their cart holding up a small black nugget. 

 Hunter snatched it out of Sterling’s hand. “What idiot put this here!?” 

 Sterling grinned as Eddie smacked his forehead from second-hand embarrassment. “Uh. Me?” 

 “We’re stealing gold. This is coal.” He knocked the worthless rock against Sterling’s skull as if in an attempt to knock some wit into it. He turned to Eddie. “Where’s the rest?” 

 Eddie pointed to a bag in the dirt. “That’s the last of ‘em.” He watched eagerly as his boss inspected the bag of gold. “So, what’s our cut?” 

 Hunter laughed. “You think you’re getting any of this?” 

 Eddie frowned. “While you were off frolicking in Star Kingdom, we were here doing all your dirty work. You told us we’d get paid.” 

 Hunter glared. It was not frolicking. For over ten years Hunter had to play lapdog to the King and Queen as the royal advisor. Forced to do this, demanded to do that. It was hard, tedious work that never went appreciated. Nor should it be. The work given to him was insulting. Hunter Zolomon was not born to serve people or follow orders like cattle. No. Every minute spent under the directives of the Queen made his blood curdle ever since his plan ten years ago went awry and he only managed to kill a third of the Royal Family he needed out of his way to ascend the throne.

 “And you will.” He leaned against the cart and rattled it along the tracks, urging Sterling to climb out and pay attention. “When I become King.” 

 “Right, right,” said Sterling, but he was clearly lost. “And how exactly is that related to us getting all this gold again?” 

  “Because,” Hunter said through gritted teeth, regretting his hasty choice of picking two desperate miners to do work for him. He’d fire Sterling if he could, but he knew too much now and was simply not worth the effort to kill. “Now I have all the wealth in the kingdom and the Queen will have no choice but to wed her only daughter to me. How could she refuse?”  

 “Easily! Princess Caitlin treats you so coldly!” Sterling blurted. “She’d never agree to that.” 

 “Who said the nitwit had any agency to make that decision?” he shot back. “She has to follow her mother’s orders. And who’s her mother’s advisor? Me.” 

 Eddie and Sterling shared a look. 

 Hunter narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

 Eddie looked anywhere but his boss’ steely gaze. “It’s just that….The Queen had decided to marry off Princess Caitlin to the King of Dulcinea.” 

 In a fit of rage, Hunter knocked the cart over with Sterling in it. “She what?!” 

 “Yeah…” Eddie said, wringing his hands. “You were gone a long time. She didn’t know what to do.” 

 “I guess the gig’s up, huh boss?” said Sterling, crawling from the rocks.

 “Hardly.” Hunter yanked the bag of gold from Eddie’s arms. He needed to visit the Queen immediately to fix this. “And if you ruin this for me neither of you will be making it out of this mine alive.” 

 ~.~

 “Cisco!” Caitlin lit up as her favourite person walked into her bedroom. “Perfect timing." She lifted up her latest discovery from her walk behind the palace kitchens. "I classified this as iron pyrite. Pretty, but not considered valuable. Commonly known as ‘fool’s gold, as you taught me last Spring, isn’t that correct?”

 Cisco smiled. “Very good, Your Highness.”

 Caitlin frowned, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Your Highness?  Why the sudden formality.” He only ever called her that in the presence of other palace workers. She looked around to see if they had company, but they were all alone. “It’s just me.”

 “Your mother sent me. Apparently, the Ambassador has arrived with a gift for you.”

 Caitlin felt lightheaded. The iron pyrite fell to the floor. “The Ambassador? He’s here already?”

 Cisco nodded and went to grab her tiara from the pillow next to her bed. He placed it carefully upon her head, smoothing down the stray curls around it. “There,” he said. “No fool’s gold here.”

 “No,” the Princess agreed faintly, distracted by the warmth of her tutor’s brown eyes. He looped her hand around his arm and escorted her to the throne room.

 ~.~

 The Ambassador was a lot younger than the Queen, Harry or The Advisor thought. Tall, dark and handsome, with a dashing smile, he bent low at the waist upon the royals’ arrival and introduced himself with his gift. His travelling companion was an old fellow with crow’s feet and stood several steps away.

 “On behalf of King Ronald, I present to you this engagement gift.”

 The Queen took it graciously, promising the Princess would love it. She glanced at the grandfather clock mounted by the wall. Surely the tutor would’ve brought the Princess in already. 

 "Harry," she said. "Didn't I send the tutor to go tell the Princess about the Ambassador?"

 "You did, Your Highness," Harry confirmed. He adjusted his spectacles and looked down at his parchments. "I don't see them taking much more time, but the schedule of the Princess is already packed enough, we better not delay." 

 "No," said the Advisor, agreeing with the Messenger even though he couldn't stand him either. "We better not." 

 The travelling companion cleared his throat. “May I enquire, your Excellency, if you’ve set a date for the wedding?”

 The Queen paused to mull it over. “Will two weeks from today do?”

 Hunter nearly fell out of his chair but recovered quickly. “Two weeks! Fast and diligent, what a wonderful decision, Your Majesty.”

 “Excellent!” said the companion, sharing a glance with the Ambassador. He nudged his shoulder when the Ambassador didn't say anything. “Excellent, isn't it, Ambassador Stein?”

 The Ambassador’s eyes widened as if he had just remembered his position. “I will…uh. I’ll send for King Ronald right away so that he may meet his new bride.” His gaze drifted to the portrait of Caitlin mounted next to the windowpane.

 "I apologize for my daughter's absence," The Queen said. "If you stay for tea, I'm sure she'll be here shortly."

 The Queen gestured at Harry to escort them to the tea rooms. "Come, Hunter. There's much we have to discuss." 

  ~.~

 Like clockwork, Frosteline slipped out the front door at noon. It was when Miss Amunet took her lunch break in the tea shop across the village, which meant she had a whole hour to herself to sneak out. Ralph followed closely behind. 

 “What Ralph?” 

 “You forgot your cape,” he said, waving the old blue thing in the doorway. It was the nicest piece of clothing she owned. Probably because she barely ever got to leave the Dress Emporium, so it never had the chance to soil. 

 “Thank you, mother,” she grumbled under her breath but accepted it as Ralph put it over her shoulders. She snapped her fingers at Iridescence to get her to come, the cat Ralph had found in the street a few months ago. They’ve been hiding her from Miss Amunet for a while. 

 “Be safe out there,” he called out. “And don’t do that scary voice thing in front of any children!” 

 Frosteline rolled her eyes. 

~.~

“Cisco.” Caitlin's hand tightened on his elbow. “I can’t go in.” Her eyes darted down the long corridor and her heart pounded up in her ears. “I’m not ready,” she panicked. “I can’t go in.”

 Cisco was about to reassure the princess that it’ll be alright, but one look at her was all he needed to realize how Caitlin was spiralling. 

 “Okay,” he soothed, running his hands up and down the sleeves of her gown. “It’s okay, my sweet. You’re here. I’m with you. You’re— shaking?”

 “This is all too fast! Five days ago I was being told I’d get married and now the Ambassador is here? Cisco, I can’t—”

 ”Then we won’t. We won’t go.” Her breath hitched, and he could tell her tight corset could not possibly be helping. Three halls down was the old library with a balcony window. It used to belong to the King. They’d sometimes study there when they needed a peaceful moment alone. Perhaps, she needed some fresh air. 

 Cisco brought her to the balcony, sitting against the ledge as the Princess paced, pressing her palms over her eyes. 

 “I do everything!” she wailed. “Everything for my mother and the memory of my father. Everything for Hunter and Harry but this…” she let out a weak huff, sliding her hands into her hair and digging her fingers into the combs of her tiara. 

  “I know.”

  Cisco, I’m scared, she almost said. But somehow she felt he already knew. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and wiped the stray tear from her flushed cheek. She kicked off her shoes, padding barefoot until she sank to the floor in her pink dress, looking out the balcony. She turned to Cisco, who had been watching her with careful concern. 

 “What do you think King Ronald will be like?” 

 It took a while for him to say anything. “I’m sure he’ll be…suitable.”

 “I know I have to marry him, but sometimes I wish…Well.” Caitlin clasped her hands together behind her back and sighed.

 She thought about her panic in the palace hall. My sweet, he’d called her. Did Cisco really mean that? Caitlin’s heart picked up speed. It wasn’t the first time he’d slipped and given her an affectionate name either. She’d always chalked it up to his joyous personality, or that maybe he considered her as a sister, but what with the way he’d been talking to her lately, she wondered if there was something...more. 

 Cisco’s brown riding boots swung leisurely as he waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued to awkwardly carry on the conversation. “I heard he’s a lover of flatbread and cheese!”

 Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”

 “A type of food, I’m sure.” Cisco looked out, following Caitlin’s wistful gaze out at the kids playing in the garden. 

 Reality settled back into Caitlin’s bones. The little treasure chest in her heart full of her love for Cisco would have to lock away. There was no use, wondering. Cisco’s pay for her tutoring barely covered his own expenses. The Princess had to look out for the entire kingdom. 

 “I know it’s selfish, but it feels like the beginning of the end of my life,” she admitted in a whisper.

 “Caitlin….” Cisco slid down from his seat on the ledge, kneeling in front of her. 

 “Hmm?” 

 He offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation. 

 “You’re going to need your cape.”

[thewritingcaptain]

Bloody Things and Broken Wings (Chapter 8)

"You can't make me stop." "I don't want to make you stop. Not permanently. God, I know I couldn't if I tried. I do want you to take a break and heal. And so help me, yes, if I have to make you do that, then I will." Tony pauses, studying him for a moment before adding, "Besides, if I wanted to make you stop, I wouldn't have told you I was fixing your suit, would I?"

Some important conversations are had, and decisions made. 

Tony stays until Peter falls asleep.

Then he stays for another few minutes, until he's sure Peter is completely and soundly asleep, not being plagued by nightmares like he has been every other time he's fallen asleep.

"Tony."

He looks up, startled. Pepper has appeared in the doorway behind him. He instinctively knows she's been watching him watch Peter for an indeterminate amount of time. Something tells him he should feel embarrassed, or abashed, but instead he just feels tired. "Hey, Pep."

"Hey." She comes inside, her footsteps nearly silent. He knows she must have taken her heels off already despite not having changed out of her work outfit, otherwise he would hear them clicking.

He looks down as she approaches, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brings his up to cover her automatically. "How was the meeting?"

"Boring as they were when you had them," she says simply, her other hand running through his hair once before dipping to his chin to tilt his head up gently. Her blue eyes are gentle but stern. "Listen, Tony. It's sweet of you to be concerned, but he's fine, and you're hovering. He's not going anywhere. Just let him get his rest and you can finally get some of your own, yeah?"

He wants to resist, but he knows she has a point. He really is hovering. Besides, if he wants Peter to trust him, then that trust has to go both ways. The kid said he wouldn't take off and leave, and Tony had to believe him.

"Yeah, alright," he concedes, standing up carefully so he doesn't jostle the sleeping kid, then wraps an arm around her shoulders, feeling hers slide against his back, and lets her guide him out of the room.

They're both quiet until they've closed Peter's door behind them and they're in the kitchen. They separate long enough to start preparing their own food - reheated soup, simply finishing off the leftovers, but neither of them mind. Pepper makes them both bowls and puts them in the microwave as he gets them both drinks, and they return to the table at the same time. Only when they're sitting side by side, stirring their soup, do they talk again.

"Pepper…" Tony hesitates, not even sure how to start with what he wants to say. He's not even sure what he wants to say, really. Does he want to ask her to stay here? To take Peter back with them? Are they prepared for that, the battle it might still cause? And that's not even mentioning his guilt, and his itching desire to break his retirement long enough to hunt down the bastards that did this to Peter, and all the ones who'd tried to use him to get to him and the other Avengers.

"I know," she cuts in, gently, because of course she does. "You know I have no problem with him staying, Tony. But you can't keep him here if he doesn't want to stay."

He lets out a low, frustrated breath. "He agreed to stay until he's healed, at least. I don't know if his definition and mine are nearly the same, but… Jesus, Pep. He's a kid. And the things he's told me… he has no one. From the sounds of it, he's been living on the streets, doing absolutely horrifying things to get by, and I just…" He shakes his head. "I can't let him go back to that."

"You can't keep him from leaving, Tony. Aside from how illegal that is…"

He waves her off. "Hardly an issue," he mutters, and he means it. What was the worst Peter could do, try to call the police? He has a feeling that the kid wouldn't want to do that, that he doesn't trust the authorities - and rightfully so. Even if he did, the idea of someone trying to arrest him was laughable. But that was besides the point. He wanted Peter to want to stay. "I just… I don't know how to convince him to stay," he says at last. "And even if I can, the likelihood that he's going to want to leave the city, where he can't be Spider-Man anymore, even for a short period…"

"It'd hardly be a short period if you want him to stay for good, Tony," Pepper points out. Still, she considers it. "We could always move back into the city."

They could, but he didn't like that idea, either. He liked living in the lakehouse. He liked not being in surrounded on all sides by chaos all the time. But would he give that up? For Peter, maybe. It was hard to say.

"I suppose that's true," he says at last. "I don't know, Pep. I'll have to talk to him, see what he'd be willing to do. I don't want to drag him with us kicking and screaming, but…"

"But you're stubborn as a mule and not wanting to won't stop you?" Pepper finishes with a small smile. "Yeah, I know."

Tony can't help but crack a smile too. "You're the best, Pep." He bumps her shoulder playfully.

"I know I am." She smiles and nudges him back.

From there, the conversation drifts to the mundane, about work, the company, Morgan, and everything in between, and they sit there long after their food is gone and talk. They don't even move from the island except for long enough to refill their drinks, which switched from water to actual alcohol as the night progressed. They're so deep into conversation that neither of them realize how much time has passed until the sound of soft footsteps jolts both of them to attention.

As light as the footsteps are, both of them immediately think it's Morgan coming out. Tony glances at the clock, then back at his tablet, which he and Pepper had been looking at something on before the sound had startled them back to reality. "Go back to bed," he says without looking up.

"Oh… sorry."

Tony nearly jolts from his seat, but Pepper has him beat. She's up almost before Peter speaks, taking his arm from where he's leaning heavily against the wall as he shuffles out. "Don't listen to him, Peter, he's an idiot. He thought you were Morgan. Did you need something?"

If Peter is phased by Pepper's sudden appearance or the fact that she knows his name, he doesn't show it. He offers her a small, shy half-smile and looks down. "No, I'm okay."

"What are you doing up, then?" Tony isn't sure if he sounds like a concerned parent or a controlling asshole more, although it might be a bit of both based on the look that Pepper gives him. He can't help it. On one hand, he knows Peter probably wasn't doing anything wrong, that he needs to trust him when he promised that he isn't going to try to run off without talking to him first. It doesn't look like he'd get very far even if that was what he was trying to do, but the paranoia is still there.

Peter's eyes snap to him, slightly wide, and his smile fades. Tony immediately feels like an ass again before he even speaks. "I was just a little hungry and I didn't want to bother anyone so I thought…"

"Again, he's an idiot," Pepper says, sharper this time, as she helps Peter onto a seat at the island. "You're more than welcome to anything in the house, Peter. Can I make you something particular? Tony and I had leftover soup. I think there's some more left, if you'd like some of that."

Peter bites his lip. "That'll be fine, Miss Potts. Thank you." He looks at Tony, and the return of his hesitance makes the elder hero want to smack himself. "Was I not supposed to leave the room?"

"It's not like that," Tony blurts immediately. "I mean… you're not a hostage here, Peter, and of course you're not confined to the room. I just…"

"Was worried that I lied?" Peter looks at him, and Tony has to look away. That was exactly it, and he doesn't want to admit it. "Don't worry. I would be too. But it's not like I have anywhere to go, even if I had any way to get there, which I don't. If that makes you feel any better."

"It makes me feel like an asshole," Tony admits. He sighs. "I'm sorry, Peter. Really. I know if you really wanted to run, you would, but I just… worry." He leans forward, resting his hands on the table. He may as well lay his cards out now. He feels the urge to reach out to the young vigilante, but he doesn't want the touch to be rejected - which is well within his rights, and only to be expected with some of what he knows now - so he doesn't. "Look, I want you to stay. With us. At least for a while. But I don't want you to feel like you have to, either. Once you're healed, I'll let you go, if that's what you want, but…" I want you to stay. I want you to want to stay. He doesn't say it, but he knows the words are implied, that Peter can read them on his face.

He seems to, and several different emotions flicker across his face before he shuts them down. It only occurs to him the complete irony of what he said - telling him he's not a prisoner, but that he essentially has to what he wants for him to let him go, regardless of whether it's something he would do anyway, in nearly the same breath - when he registers the tinge of residual fear and resignation that flashes on Peter's face. He wants to say something to fix it, but Peter speaks before he gets the chance.

"I…" he stops, looking down at the bowl of soup as Pepper sets it in front of him. "Thanks, Miss Potts. I'm… flattered, Mr. Stark, really, but you don't owe me anything. I know you think you do, because I'm another superhero and because I got hurt by people looking for you and because you don't feel like you did enough or whatever, I'm sure there's more reasons I don't know, but you don't. I don't blame you for any of it, not anymore. There's no point. And I'm not really interested in being a charity case nor do I have any names for you if this is about a vendetta, so…"

"Is that what you think this is?" Tony blinks at him, surprised. He probably shouldn't be, but he is. "Peter, you're not a charity case. You're a hero - one of us, more so now than any of us really. And while I want to know who the hell spent the past six years torturing you, yes, it's a general want to go out and murder them, not just the ones who were looking for me, I assure you. And I'm plenty capable of finding them on my own, if I actually decided to." He does reach out to him now, putting a hand on his forearm. "And hero or no, Peter, I would still want to help you. You could quit being Spider-Man in the next five minutes and I would still want to help you. I supported Spider-Man as a vigilante hero because of the man behind the mask. What you do, and who you are, inside and out. I don't just put my faith in people randomly, and I definitely don't make multimillion dollar suits for charity cases I care nothing for." He pauses. "And I swear, kid, you need to call me Tony."

Peter chews his lip. "Tony," he begins, slowly, his brows drawn together. "You didn't even know who I was."

"Didn't I?" He leans forward. "Kid, I told you. I sent you the suit. I spent my time and money working on it. Did I do that for any of the other vigilantes? No. As you so astutely noted, I don't support most of them. I knew who you were. I watched you. I didn't do as much as I could have, nor did I know the extent of your life or activities - obviously, or this wouldn't have happened, but… you weren't a charity case. It's not like that at all."

"But you asked my name," Peter points out, brows furrowing.

Tony has the decency to look slightly abashed. "I… knew your name. But I didn't want to freak you out more by already telling you I already knew. It would have been a lot of questions and I just…"

He can see the moment it clicks in Peter's head. "Ah," he murmurs, thunderclouds clearing a little. "I see."

It's silent for a moment, but then Pepper breaks in. "The point is, Peter, you're not a charity case. We want to help you, and that's all. But you have to let us."

Peter looks back at her and nods slowly. "Okay, but… how? Because as much as I appreciate it… I can't stop." He looks back at Tony, biting his lip. "You can't make me stop."

"I don't want to make you stop. Not permanently. God, I know I couldn't if I tried. I do want you to take a break and heal. And so help me, yes, if I have to make you do that, then I will." Tony pauses, studying him for a moment before adding, "Besides, if I wanted to make you stop, I wouldn't have told you I was fixing your suit, would I?"

That gives Peter a pause, and Pepper uses it to jump in again, carefully, placing her hand over Peter's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "What we're saying isn't that we want to make you stop, Peter. Although I think the fact that you're worried about us trying is just proof that even you realize it would be better for your health. But while we don't want to make you stop, not permanently, we think it would be good for you to take a break. Preferably get out of the city for a while, so you're not tempted to go out before you're fully healed."

"And also before I can figure out who the hell did this to you," Tony adds.

Peter frowns and looks back at him. "So you are going to go after the people who did this?"

"What, did you think I was going to just let it go? Yeah, I don't think so. I'll have them taken care of as soon as possible, believe me." Tony shakes his head. "This is personal, now. Not just because of what happened to you, but if they're looking for me, they can't have good intentions. I have a family to protect." He glances at Pepper, who smiles a little.

Peter takes a tentative bite of soup, seeming to consider this. "If I agree to stay with you until I'm healed enough to patrol again… will you let me help?"

Tony leans forward, itching to reach for him again but still holding back. The last thing he wants is to risk this progress. "Help with what? Your suit? Catching them?"

Peter bites his lip. "I meant with catching them, but I would love to help with my suit, if you think there's something I could do," he admits quietly.

Tony presses his lips together, thinking about it for a moment. "I'll tell you what," he says finally, leaning forward a little more. "After all you've been through, I can hardly deny you the right to help me catch the people who did this to you, and having your help will definitely make it considerably easier, so consider that done. If you're willing to stay, we can stay wherever you're most comfortable. If that's here, we can do that. We'll stay. But if you agree to actually leave the city and come back to the lake house with us, to try and get the rest we know you really need... I won't just repair your suit. I'll make a new one, and I'll let you help. We'll build it from scratch, and we can build whatever you want into it. Unlimited creative input, anything and everything you've ever wanted in there. But you have to really try to rest and heal, got it?"

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch and his eyes are bright, like he's trying to suppress his excitement at the idea. "Really?" He sounds so disbelieving, so tentatively hopeful that it makes Tony's chest ache.

"Really. Absolutely," Tony promises. He carefully lays his hand over the arm Pepper was already touching, giving them both a gentle squeeze. "Do we have a deal?"

The huge grin that breaks across Peter's face at the words is almost confirmation enough, but his next words just solidify it. "When do we leave?"

Taglist: @lyrical-harmony @lovinmarvel3000 @sweatpants-romance @jewelrnicorn @mentalyokay

[longsightmyth]

So no review per se but here are a hella lot of status updates under the cut:

March 16, 2016 –  3.0% "I'm not sure how I feel about this season divide country thing but we'll see"

March 18, 2016 –  24.0% "See, I thought they were meeting in a town or city, which would be hard enough to find someone in, but the instructions were apparently 'meet me in a country'"

March 18, 2016 –  25.0% "Yes it DOES explain the oath. You don't need to explain that to us, we get it."

March 22, 2016 –  28.0% "Idk if the book wanted me to think that the government is terrible and everything with the question about whether the maids always obey the king's orders (which... Yes? That is actually their job?) but when a pretty low-ranking guest's lady's maid talks like Rose is talking like she is, it isn't successful."

March 22, 2016 –  29.0% "Not that outspoken servants cannot still be oppressed servants, but the general attitude does not point in that direction (also, still am not fond of New Meira)"

March 25, 2016 –  29.0% "Bets on Meira being a swapped out baby queen."

March 25, 2016 –  31.0% "MORE instalove? Isn't one a book enough?"

March 25, 2016 –  33.0% "Oh no a king is thinking of politics and the wellbeing of his kingdom. What calumny. What horror. (I can understand MEIRA being upset, I can, she had no warning whatsoever, but the book is trying to make me think Noam is evil, and so far I have evidence only of the opposite.)"

March 25, 2016 –  34.0% "A king just doesn't want to throw his kingdom into a war and you automatically assume he had something to do with the death of his wife. Because that totally makes sense...?"

March 25, 2016 –  34.0% "Okay maybe Meira isn't the Secret Queen. Which begs the question of WHY she's important enough to hand off in a political alliance marriage. I mean, king's foster sister is a perfectly respectable and important relation usually, but since literally nobody knows anything about her parentage or if she'd be a reasonably competent queen it makes no sense that Noam wants her to marry his son so badly."

March 30, 2016 –  34.0% "Okay book I just finished The Winner's Kiss so you had better up your game, this bullshit threatening of kings with nothing to back it up isn't going to fly."

March 30, 2016 –  35.0% "Also you appear to have used a name I gave one of my ocs in my lotr fanfic. Obviously only to hurt me."

March 30, 2016 –  38.0% "Seriously wtf is with the complete personality swap I cannot get over it"

March 30, 2016 –  39.0% "Book, you tried hard to tell me that women who like pretty things are just as cool as women who like sharp pointy stabby things, but every time Meira talks about ladies or pretty things she is SUPER scornful and I don't see anything to contradict her. You realize noble ladies find power even when they aren't given it overtly right?"

March 31, 2016 –  44.0% "There's nothing INCREDIBLY wrong with this section - at least nothing I can pin down - but all of this seems really overdramatic, and the love interests don't have enough character for me to say whether or not the supremely stupid display of toxic masculinity was in character or not. Also that fight was particularly silly."

March 31, 2016 –  45.0% "Hang on, still confused about magic access. The only places to get magic are the season kingdoms, but the rhythm kingdoms have magic conduits too? Do they have to pay a fee to go recharge them or something, or have I missed some key point of magic use?"

March 31, 2016 –  46.0% "Wait, how did Winter have food if it was always winter? Did everyone live off evergreens? What about the animals? Was there a thriving greenhouse agricultural system? These are things I want answered."

March 31, 2016 –  46.0% "In the words of Meira herself: Sweet snow! Is she going to learn that protocol isn't useless and being in a position of power might actually help?!"

March 31, 2016 –  46.0% "What, Cordell can't spring for a tutor for their queen-to-be, she has to go to a classroom?"

March 31, 2016 –  47.0% "Wait wait wait you can MINE magic? Why the fuck hang everyone been doing it?!"

March 31, 2016 –  47.0% "Like, I get that it's apparently super deep down, but guys. Magic. Everybody wants more of it, and even if it's hard to get to you have the means to do it. And I haven't seen that this is a Balrog situation either."

March 31, 2016 –  50.0% "Honestly I think the dialogue wouldn't bother me so much if there weren't so many dramatic whispers and things. 'Said' is not a bad word, no matter how many creative writing teachers try to tell you otherwise."

April 1, 2016 –  51.0% "Are. Are there no guards on a king's study? The king's chambers? Even I he isn't there important shit is, as evidenced by what Meira just found! WHAT IS WITH GUARDS IN YA LITERATURE?!"

April 1, 2016 –  51.0% "Do all YA guards go to the same crappy guard school or something?!"

April 1, 2016 –  52.0% "Oh for heaven's sake. A king's foster sister without titles of her own would be a powerful political asset in that the King would (theoretically) care for her, or at least care for his reputation as a person who takes care of those close to him, so you forge an alliance based on that. She wouldn't give anyone any rights over her foster sibling's country, because she's a foster sibling with no title."

April 1, 2016 –  52.0% "There is no way that having Theron marry her would give anyone any sort of authority."

April 1, 2016 –  52.0% "Aside from that, Noam playing all sides of the board is pretty clever and sometimes what rulers have to do to keep their people safe from an apparently magical apparently tyrannical dickface."

April 1, 2016 –  53.0% "For a bunch of people convinced that Noam acts in whatever way is politically expedient for the wellbeing of his country (and also that doing so makes him evil) these people seem awfully surprised that Noam is acting in whatever way is politically expedient for the wellbeing of his country."

April 1, 2016 –  53.0% ""Spring is here. In Cordell." (Meaning spring the country). Well gosh. Would've been great if somebody had FORGED AN ALLIANCE WITH THEM. (Though actually, Noam, you made copies of your top secret correspondence? Really?)"

April 1, 2016 –  54.0% "Sure, six folks against an army, why not. If the soldiers are trained as shoddily as all the guards it makes total sense."

April 1, 2016 –  54.0% ""Let's go jeopardize our entire planned alliance by getting the principle members killed! Sound good? Cool." WHAT IS WITH THESE PEOPLE."

April 1, 2016 –  55.0% "Oh look our evil king puts all his magic into agriculture, otherwise known as HELPING HIS PEOPLE EAT. What true tyranny! (Seriously though how did Winterians get food if their queen put all her magic into mining I need to know. Did they adapt to eat rocks or something? Eating is srs bsns, book)"

April 1, 2016 –  56.0% ""Noam truly believes he was doing us a favor?" I mean. He kind of was. It's not everybody who looks at a group of eight refugees and goes 'sure, let my son marry the king's untitled foster sister and I'll help you reclaim your kingdom'."

April 1, 2016 –  56.0% ""You brought them here! When you started writing that letter..." Y'all do realize that there was a public announcement and ball for the engagement of the heir to the throne and a Winterian, right. Like, Mather was announced as the King of Winter. Does. Does nobody but me remember this? Did you think nobody heard about it?"

April 1, 2016 –  57.0% "Did you just send the heirless King of your exiled country into battle. Did you. Yes you did, because everyone in this book except Noam is completely incompetent when it comes to strategy, and even he has his moments."

April 1, 2016 –  58.0% "How are those cannons moving so quickly?"

April 1, 2016 –  58.0% "HELMETS ARE NOT JUST FOR DISGUISE THEY SERVE A VITAL PROTECTIVE FUNCTION IN THAT THEY PROTECT YOUR HEAD OH MY GOD WHY WOULD YOU JUST TAKE THE HELMET OFF JUST BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE JESUS CHRIST WHY WOULDN'T HE TELL YOU TO PUT IT BACK ON I HATE EVERYTHING YOU ARE IN THE MIDST OF MEDIEVAL ISH MAGIC BATTLE JUST BECAUSE THERE ARE CANONS DOESN'T MEAN YOU CANT PROTECT YOURSELF AGAINST THE ARROWS OH MY GOD"

April 1, 2016 –  64.0% "That part (with Meira actually appearing to care about the enslaved Winterians when she sees them, and not just us being told she cares) was actually pretty good."

April 1, 2016 –  72.0% "Credit where credit is due - this just improved by leaps and bounds, not least by Meira starting to wonder if she has in fact been something of a brat."

April 1, 2016 –  74.0% "EXPONENTIALLY better"

April 1, 2016 –  76.0% "Okay book, you're getting better and all, and this isn't exclusive to you, but where did this idea that not screaming meant strength come from? Like, not screaming while in pain can be a statement or a way to not bother other people in dire situations, but not screaming when you're being whipped doesn't automatically mean strength okay."

April 1, 2016 –  76.0% "Okay book she has to get water eventually or she's going to literally die unless Winterian body processes are different from other humans. Which, I guess, would explain how they didn't need to grow food in a land of eternal ice and snow. But if she's human like the rest of us she's going to die if she constantly does heavy lifting and carrying without any water except breakfast and dinner. She's going to die QUICKLY."

April 1, 2016 –  78.0% "I admit that I am not an expert on metal, but I'm almost positive that an old belt buckle is not even serviceable knife material without a forge and some tempering."

April 1, 2016 –  80.0% "Dammit Meira."

April 1, 2016 –  80.0% "I'd like to refer you to my status at 29 percent and note for the record that I'm only refraining from gloating because it was so obvious."

April 1, 2016 –  87.0% ""The only thing that saved us was our magically exhaustible magical conduit that has to recharge, so my father didn't retaliate against the giant magical army that nearly killed us all. Obviously this means he's terrible." Book, do you ducking hear yourself."

April 1, 2016 –  88.0% "Book. Are you putting in a rape attempt in front of her love interest. Is this a thing I am reading in the year of our lord 2016."

April 1, 2016 –  88.0% "Book. Are you putting in a rape attempt in front of her love interest. Is this a thing I am reading in the year of our lord 2016."

April 1, 2016 –  88.0% ""There are no other weapons near me, no chairs I am break or vases I can throw" you know what, book, I am tired of theoretically weapon-and-fighting-competent chicks being like 'whoa is me there are no weapons' this is when your feet and fists and teeth and head come into play, you have been literally trained to murder people come on now. (Don't get me started on fixations on fancy weaponry)"

April 1, 2016 –  93.0% "'Exotic grace' when referring to the only people of color so far? Come on, book, get your shit together."

April 1, 2016 –  96.0% ""We'll need to barter rations from Cordell." Have you always done that or is this only because of the defeat of Angra? TELL ME."

April 1, 2016 –  97.0% "Really Noam you AND your heir rode into an unknown situation in a different country? I expected better of you, sir."

April 1, 2016 –  98.0% "Is Meira going to be forever follows by the ghost of her mom in a literal sense? Why have we seen no other ghosts? (Also, please stop with the gasping)" 

[unbe--weave--able]

The (Hair) Ties That Bind

Sapphic Sutcliff Week

Tuesday: Ribbons/Sharing Clothing

Pairing: Mey Rin/Grelle Sutcliff

On Ao3

The morning dawned far too early in the Phantomhive household, earlier even than the sunrise itself. The sky outside not yet touched by even the orange-pink light of the dawn. It was October and the sun wouldn’t rise for a good few hours yet, Mey Rin realised with a sigh as she set about preparing herself for the day, or rather, trying to. It was quite hard to do such things without glasses, not because she couldn’t see without them but because of quite the opposite, every tiny detail was far too in focus, it gave her a headache in such a small room. But given her status, she could hardly request a larger one, it wouldn’t be right and she would so hate to inconvenience anyone. Besides, occasionally this over abundance of vision could have its perks.

It did mean that she could spot a red velvet ribbon in the furthest corner of her room; one that most certainly didn’t belong to her for she couldn’t dream of owning something so lovely. Tossed aside and forgotten about from the night before.

Visions of long, silky, smooth dark hair framing her face and bright green eyes that seemed almost unnatural and luminous in the dark; a shy voice whispering sweet nothings to her while gentle, far more capable than she’d expected, hands ran across her body, flashed across her mind. Her cheeks flushed hot and pink.

The flustered maid hurried across the room and gingerly picked the accessory up between her fingers, holding it at arm’s length to get a good and proper look at it. It was fairly simple, as far as ribbons went, nothing too outstanding or special about it. Just an ordinary velvet ribbon really. Only it wasn’t. When it caught the candle light the dull red tones turned vibrant; a deep blood colour and suddenly it was beautiful. Sort of like Grelle, Mey Rin mused.

She hadn’t been much to look at either at first, just someone who would sometimes be there in the background. Not important to Mey Rin’s daily routine and when she was, it was because she was making a nuisance of herself and giving the poor maid even more work. But once she’d stayed those weeks and made herself known, the maid had to admit to being slightly blown away by what she’d found.

The brown-eyed girl sighed wistfully before a slightly wicked grin appeared on her face. She hadn’t done her hair yet, no she hadn’t. And she had here such a lovely red ribbon. It would be a shame to let it go to waste and stay on her bedside table until such a time that Grelle might want it. She wondered what the butler would think of her new accessory...

–

It wasn’t until breakfast time that she got any sort of an answer to that question, the dismayed sounds of woe luring her into the dining room like a curious moth to flame. Exasperated, incomprehensible words sounded from the room, getting clearer and clearer as she approached.

Peering owlishly around the edge of the door she gazed into the room, immediately joined by Finnian and Baldroy, both of whom were equally interested. Though why Baldroy was out here rather than helping with the breakfast she had no idea. (That was a lie, in her mind keeping Baldroy away from food at all costs was a rather good idea, Mr Sebastian was right sensible to be the one making breakfast today.)

Inside the room the Burnett butler was frantically trying to clean up the latest mess she’d made, her long hair cascading around her face like a waterfall, unrestrained by its usual ribbon. Clearly, Grelle was unused to maintaining such a hairstyle while she worked, she kept blowing strands out of her face as she cleaned or attempting futily to push it behind her ears. Mey Rin’s heart pounded in her chest at the sight of her, beating as though she’d just been running a marathon. Above her she heard Bard snicker, whether at Grelle or at her reaction the maid wasn’t too certain, regardless she scowled. Then she elbowed him in the chest, which only made him laugh harder.

“Shush Baldroy.” She hissed. “Mister Sebastian won’t like it if he knows we’re spying instead of working, no he won’t.”

“No, indeed he won’t Mey Rin.” Came the voice, smooth as the finest of silks, of the red eyed butler.

The trio started, falling out of the doorway like a triad of dominoes, one on top of the other. Sebastian pinched his brow and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh that clearly displayed what he thought of the Phantomhive three. They were imbeciles with not an ounce of brain between them and a single narrow-eyed glower from the man was enough to send all four of the unruly servants scrambling for the door, leaving butler and master alone.

The boys went their separate ways, Baldroy shooting a knowing, amused wink at Mey Rin, who flushed again and then pretended she’d not seen it. He could be a right horrible tease sometimes and she was certain he knew it too.

Next to her, Grelle sighed, blowing a hair out of her face before turning to Mey Rin with a nervous sort of agony on her face. And the maid could hazard a guess that she knew why that was. The loss of her hair ribbon was obviously playing on the genteel woman’s mind something awful. Mey Rin almost felt bad for having the article of clothing in question upon her person. Almost.

The butler tugged nervously at her hair, playing with the ends of it and biting her lip in a manner so sweet that it made Mey Rin wish she was far braver than she actually was. Made her want to drag the other woman down to her height right there and now and kiss away all of the worries; pluck them from her soul by way of her mouth and their entwined tongues. Pin her against a wall and…And damn what the young Master or Mister Sebastian would have to say should they come out here. She refrained. Somehow. Though her cheeks were burning brighter than a candle flame; it must’ve been fairly noticeable for Grelle stopped dead in her tracks to stare at her, green eyes blinking behind the round frames of her glasses.

This only made Mey Rin flush all the more. Such open concern on that face, and all for her! She’d never had someone care for her that way before, no she hadn’t. It was all new and a bit confusing but Grelle was looking at her so kindly and sweetly that she almost felt that her heart was going to burst from it all. Her hands twisted around the fabric of her dress as the two women stood, an almost awkward silence settling around them before Grelle made a quiet noise of distress, hair falling into her face once more.

“Oh bother…why can’t it just stay put?” She fretted, beginning to run a hand through her hair before stopping dead and swiftly pulling her fingers free again, as though had she continued to trail through it, something terrible might have happened.

“You look awful distressed miss Grelle, yes you do.” Mey Rin informed her, all wide eyed innocence as though she hadn’t a clue what was bothering the dark haired butler. “Is there something the matter?”

Grelle gave her a look that on anyone else’s face she might’ve called a glare, but as it was Grelle everything was just a bit too soft. She looked as though she was squinting in sunlight more than she did actually attempting to be in any way annoyed at the other woman. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again with a snap. This time she was most definitely scowling.

“Yes. There is rather…I’ve…oh dear…you see I’ve lost my ribbon. You know…the red one I wear in my hair… my mistress will be terribly angry with me if I’ve lost it.” She fretted. “And you see I was so worried I had. But now I see all of that was for naught…”

“Oh?” Mey Rin asked fighting back a grin. So she’d been found out already had she?

“Yes. Oh you…how could you?” Grelle asked in anguish, flailing dramatically for a moment before composing herself. Her voice dropped an octave, making a shiver run down Mey Rin’s spine. “You’re such a wicked girl Mey Rin. Stealing ribbons from me when you have your own…I ought to tell Sebastian about the fact he has a thief in his house…”

It was strange Mey Rin thought, in these private moments, when it was just the two of them. Grelle seemed entirely different to how she usually was. Though the red haired maid couldn’t say that she minded at all, even if Grelle had somehow managed to back her against the wall, one hand coming to rest up by her cheek. “Or I could simply steal from the thief. Take what’s mine…it’d only be right after all…” The gentle butler practically purred, suddenly not seeming quite so soft. In fact quite the opposite, the Burnett butler turning almost dangerous and seductive in that moment.

Mey Rin could feel her knees growing weak as Grelle reached up, trailing her hand across her cheek gently, white gloves barely even touching her skin as the butler leaned in. The maid’s heart stopped. Grelle’s lips were mere inches away from her own and she could feel her breath on her face. She longed to close the gap but her limbs seemed entirely out of her own control, not cooperating at all, she could only stare as Grelle loomed closer, and closer until… She pulled away entirely, red ribbon in her hands and calmly tied it back into her own hair, pulling it back into its usual neat queue. Humming with satisfaction Grelle turned to Mey Rin again, her own cheeks flushing as she seemed to realise what she’d just done.

Sensing an apology coming, the maid almost let out a sigh and, having regained some control over herself, wobbled her way over to the butler, tripped over her own feet and found herself colliding with Grelle’s chest. The butler’s arms came up to circle her waist and steady her automatically. There was a moment, brown eyes meeting green before someone moved. One, or perhaps both, leaning in until their lips were pressed together in the softest of kisses. If this was Grelle’s response to it, Mey Rin thought happily, perhaps she ought to steal her ribbon more often.

[ofravensandgenesis]

World Building Through Character Creation and Background NPCs

Entry 03. I was thinking over how to build out more plot points for both the underlying bones of original fiction, and also fleshing out ideas for some of the arcs in my ACABH fic. Honestly, adding more characters within reasonable limits seems to really help with that. Even if they’re just characters with a name and a few lines of description, or even just one line of description, it makes for a great springboard point to start tacking on more details. From those details, it’s a lot easier to build out the world around them in various layers. Like for the original fiction world I’m building out right now, creating the character Corwin Blackwood with the helpful input from my friends on how the name sounded, resulted in spinning up a huge chunk of the underlying world order. Originally I was going with just a two-sided state of tension and conflict, but Corwin’s family brings with it a third side that’s caught in the middle—people minding their own business that aren’t actively affiliated with either side. In terms of mechanics, the Blackwoods’ existence brought in some specific broad categories of magical beings, a rudimentary idea of various magical systems with an as of yet undefined overarching universal magic system, and social conflict regarding differing points of view relating to said beings and affiliations with them.

His name is all about his role in the story, with the meaning of his first name being “heart’s friend,” and having had a close if tempestuous friendship with the main character. The last name of Blackwood automatically brings to mind a haunted forest, and as inspired by a Netflix Castlevania fic called Baba by Crownofpins on Ao3 as recommended to me by a friend, and the Blackwoods’ home-locale and name makes me think of the Belmonts. So it was easy enough to consider the Blackwoods tentatively as a family of exorcists/monster-hunters/etc in this rough draft. (The Baba fic is pretty awesome btw, it’s got great elements of old Slavic folklore, obviously Baba Yaga for example, among other things. I shan’t spoil it ofc, but I thought it was a lovely read. Adult content warning for the fic ofc, read the tags, etc.) There’s other external factors that helped bring him about, including other recent media consumption on my part also again in thanks to my friends for recommending them, including Mo Dao Zu Shi and The Legend of The White Snake. (Content warning: Both of those works contain adult content, etc.) They’re both stories of Chinese origin that focus on romances that contain supernatural elements, with The Legend of The White Snake being an old classic tale of folklore. But what’s really fascinating to me is the mythology system that’s at play in the stories—I’m so used to “medieval” fantasy settings being European-influenced landscapes and civilizations, it was really cool to see a more involved Asiatic-inspired one. I’ve certainly seen Asian-mythos-based supernatural movies and series before, but not in this specific niche that’s more fantasy-adventure-ish. Usually the ones I’ve come across are much more heavily leaning into the martial arts category of movies as I’d classify them, or set in more modern-based times. That’s probably just a sign I need to go out and find more content of this sort to consume, honestly. But how the above two works treat the whole spirituality/magic/supernatural aspect is admittedly a huge inspiration point for me for how I’m hoping this original fic’s world will be built, and provides a great starting point to go and try to research more into stories and myths relating to those elements. It also happens to fit in neatly with me being interested in trying to learn a bit more about some of my heritage and culture, being partly of Chinese descent. That’s another thing I know I want Corwin to explore as an additional main character: what does it mean when you’re a part of multiple cultures as a person? What’s that experience like? How does that fact shape how he interacts with his world? I know it has a huge impact on how he’s perceived socially and allows him greater access to magical training via one side of his family having the history for it, and it interests me to think of exploring that in writing. What I’m not certain of is what name to label this general cluster of magical beings as—are they demons? Yaoguai? Spirits? There are associations with each word and name, and giving them a newly made up name would mean severing those ties for better or worse. There are definitely classical monstrous elements in that group, but also a lot of diversity, holding up yet another mirror to the run of the mill humans of that world. What is this group of magical beings specifically in this world’s build? Are they humans that have cultivated themselves spiritually enough to transcend, or is it a reincarnation gig, or something else? I’ll probably have to make another OC or import ideas from mythology to explain where they’re from. With regards to the FC 5 fic though, I’m currently listening to more of the in-game dialogue and commentary as provided by DanaDuchy on their account/channel (also: thanks to DanaDuchy for providing the rest of us such wonderful resources on this and other games/works) and boy the dev team did a wonderful job of just adding more of those little details to help make the setting feel alive. Like it’s honestly really cool to hear the NPCs talk about how haunted the King’s Hot Springs Hotel or the Catamount mines are, how Casey at the Spread Eagle makes the best loose meat/steamer/etc sandwiches and burgers in the entire county, the stories behind the Whistling Beaver Brewery, etc. It’s also pretty grim to hear the tales of all the people the cult’s taken and some of the things other people have seen the cult do, namely killing civilians in gruesomely inventive fashion. Which raises as an interesting problem for me as a fanfic writer is trying to figure out A) how much did the Seeds know about these particular clusters of mass murder, B) did they permit it if they knew about it ahead of time, and C) what purpose does it serve? Currently the answer to A is more than enough because the Seeds not knowing wouldn’t fit this AU nor their character builds in it to go well with the level of importance that the themes of responsibility and consequences carry both in the meta of the fic and in-world for Joshua personally. So that means for B, the Seeds are definitely permitting the additional senseless acts of cruelty noted in the dialogue and conflicted-conversations among the Peggies. Certainly they’re aware at least to some extent if not fully aware of the entirety of it, but I would assume based on the Heralds’ personalities that they all do like to know what their people get up to. They all seem like they would want to know the details of what’s going on for various reasons. I’m leaning towards having the particularly senseless murders be a mix of some acts the Seeds ordered, some acts they left open to interpretation to their followers who then took it to a dark extreme, and some acts were instigated by the followers alone. Basically: humans being humans during chaotic dark times and doing terrible, bad shit. Which leads to the conclusion for Joshua that the Seeds should be more disciplined about keeping their followers in line and not sinking down to this level of pointless evil. He’s not wild about their more purposeful evil acts either and is intent on trying to get them to stop the worst of that, but there are darker gradients of black and grey morality for him there to be more outraged by. So that pretty much wraps up C with the answer of “not much” other than humans being terrible to each other. Perhaps from the villainous perspective it helps terrorize the people of Hope County and whittle down the number of people the cult has to fight now or later, but overall that is still straight up mass murder. ...hm, that reminds me, I need to go tweak a line in a past chapter regarding the population of Hope County. I had it too low for there to be a reasonably-sized if small county aside from the cult’s numbers. Hm. I have the cult at around 1,800ish souls, with their goal being 3,000 total based on in-game commentary from nameless background NPCs, and the line from the Book of Joseph “A few thousand pure souls, whose mission would be to start over and repopulate the earth.” Doing a little quick search, there are some counties even in Montana that according to past censuses had 3,000 or less people in them. For it to feel a bit less likely that the Resistance and civilian population would be easily overwhelmed, it probably should be somewhat higher than the cult, since the county’s numbers will include those who cannot or do not want to fight—that being the old, the young, the ill, etc. Plus if the cult’s being quite so gruesomely wanton in the murdering sprees, that means they aren’t out to absorb the entire county, just most of it. But the cult must also be expecting losses on their side as well since this is a violent conquest they’re undertaking and all of Hope County’s armed to the teeth, if not as necessarily heavily as the cult itself seems to be. We’ll stick the vague number at around 2,400 civilians who are not in the cult for now then and add that to the notes—plus some of the cult’s population is certainly from the county itself pre-Reaping, not including increases that happen during the Reaping with all the active brainwashing, kidnapping, etc. Hm, given some of the generic-NPC-dialogue of how people were forcibly turned to being obedient members of the cult who actually did turn on and shoot their once-allies (and in that dialogue, the brainwashed were also long-time pre-Reaping neighbors of the speaker,) that makes Pratt’s situation in-game all the more interesting. He definitely recognizes the Deputy, whereas it sounded like the aforementioned brainwashed-individuals did not recognize their once-neighbors and friends at all. Pratt’s capable of thinking independent thoughts and he’s remained lucid enough to observe his surroundings and plan an escape, despite going on what sounds like a very dark “hunting trip” Jacob may have taken him on to hunt “deer” which sounds definitely like he was hallucinating in a bad way per his own lines. Jacob apparently isn’t a guy to miss out on using easy symbolism for his enemies, specifically the Whitetail Militia. That was probably not the only “hunting trip” Pratt and the other converts have been on, and that would potentially suggest that the converts are still possibly hallucinating much like how the Deputy is during the first portion of Jacob’s boss fight with the destroy-the-music-beacons visual effects, after exiting the Wolf’s Den. Is Pratt seeing something like that scene though? He doesn’t seem to be triggered by the music box or in the scenes where the music starts playing certainly. He’s surely been exposed to Jacob’s conditioning or at least the trials, and the list his name’s on would strongly suggest he passed his trial, dark as that is. Who did he kill as his sacrifice? Is he perhaps more immune to the Bliss effects? It seems to vary in intensity of how effective it is and how it effects people, based on their susceptibility to it—some factors may include addictive tendencies, personalities, etc, looking at generic-NPC-dialogue in Faith’s region. The sparkles that show up on the screen in addition to the red edges do lend themselves to interpreting that Jacob uses Bliss as part of the brainwashing regime, in addition to the hallucinations Pratt, the Deputy, and others seem to experience. (Also the Judges disappearing in Bliss clouds during the first half of Jacob’s boss fight, etc.) Either way, with the mention of no one expecting Jacob to go easy on Pratt, it seems like Pratt was more resistant to the brainwashing and breaking than Jacob expected, even in light of there being potentially more torment lined up for Pratt than the average captured civilian. (I suspect aside from Pratt’s involvement with the officers who tried to arrest Joseph, Jacob in particular is more likely to not think kindly of police men, given his time in Juvie and the events leading to him being sentenced to doing time, setting him on the path to joining the Army and the ensuing tragedy, and separated from his brothers when they were younger. Also possibly the lack of perceived protection from policemen in the times prior to their father Old Mad Seed’s arrest.) However, it could also be that Jacob deliberately set Pratt up to test his loyalty to Jacob and the Project by giving Pratt the opportunity to help the Deputy escape, instead (or a little from column A, a little from column B.) That music did come on awfully fast after the breakout after all, and perhaps Pratt hadn’t made his sacrifice yet. Maybe the Deputy was meant to be his sacrifice, in a less murderous way of just leaving the Deputy in Jacob’s hands. Seems like Jacob would have mentioned it if the Deputy was meant to be Pratt’s sacrifice by leaving them in the cage to their fate, but on the other hand it would fit the game’s plot and Jacob’s theme real well. Plus Jacob’s a cunning bastard and able to plot this kind of scheme out quite readily, I would say. This all probably means I need to flesh out more of the fic’s world with background NPCs here and there a bit more for the plot. That being said, I’m all excited to be borrowing with permission AU versions of some of my friend’s OCs for this. It’s definitely a new addition to the plotting that I hadn’t started out with, but feels like they’d fit in well with the plot overall. Two of the OCs will have a significant impact on Jacob as a character across his entire timeline in the past, present, and future. It’ll be an interesting challenge to deal with that, since while I do want to try to interpret the characters as close to their original canon lines and outlooks as possible, I feel this addition does open up more preexisting lines for Jacob that do fit the hints we get of his internal workings from in-game. It’ll mean he’s got more development in certain areas of his psyche and mental state, but a little bit of twisting here and there still keeps it all in line with the initial interpretation this AU’s got for him. I do feel the addition of the OCs will help bring Jacob to be more emotionally involved than he potentially was to begin with before the real-world-now with the intended future events of the fic, and this creates much more potential for up-close-and-personal levels of emotional exploration for the entire lot of them, both positive and negative emotions. ...oo, we might get to see Jacob actually losing his cool on-screen externally as a result of possible plot happenings. That could lead to an entire mess of the entire Seed family being angry and yelling at each other, creating emotional development. It’s really quite fascinating to try to work out how to get a group to actually get along well with characters like Faith, John, Joseph, and Jacob who are often at odds with each other. All while dealing with their rampant personal issues. Still something to study and test out for other original writings—haven’t quite learned how to take that kind of group dynamic apart and construct something from that inspiration yet. But definitely learning as we go. Back to listening to more NPC dialogue recordings though.