#this is also a rare situation where the far left and far right both oppose this

[dogsuffrage]

Congress is about to pass a bipartisan bill that outlines the definition of antisemitism based on the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance's definition and treats any such speech as hate speech. This very essentially includes this aspect:

Congress is imminently about to pass a law making it illegal to say the true statement that Israel is a racist colonizer state.

Being anti-Zionist will soon be illegal. How is this acceptable?

[kyotarou]

One bed scenario for izuku, shouto, tamaki and dabi? I really liked the last one

characters: izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tamaki amajiki, dabi

plot (deku, shoto, & tamaki): you’re invited to a weekend getaway for a class celebration, but some miscalculations lead to some awkward situations

warnings: mild swearing

a/n: since dabi isn’t part of u.a. the plot for his scenario will be explained below :) also this is a bit long i apologize if it’s a lot to read

part 1

Izuku Midoriya

Class 1-A takes a trip to Kyoto during the spring when the cherry blossoms have bloomed and the city is pink

Everyone is free to do as they please as long as they meet back at the hotel by a certain time or else everyone is going to assume they were kidnapped

Deku’s excited cause he’s never gone on a trip with all his friends like this before

He’s the type of person to have a backpack full of water, snacks, money, and a map with a ton of places marked off

Drags you by the wrist all over the city and manages to cross off all the spots on the map with enough time to squeeze in some extra destinations

At the end of the day, you and Deku head up to the room you decided to share, exhausted and ready to sleep until noon

Upon opening the door, you both do a double-take

“Uh, Izuku, am I seeing things, or is there only one bed?”

“Nope, there’s only one.”

“Um, I guess one of us could take the floor?”

Neither you or Deku actually want to sleep on the floor, but you don’t want to come off as rude, so you play a game of, “No, I will,” until it gets too tiring

“Let’s just share, yeah?”

“Oh, (Y/N), are you sure?”

“Well, we’re not getting anywhere aren’t we?”

He’s trying his best to not seem flustered as you crawl into bed next to him

It’s not as uncomfortable as you thought, but you’re worried about Deku and how he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack

You scoot to the edge of the bed with your back to him, hoping it makes things less awkward, and fall asleep

You wake up to the sound of rustling and try to get up to check the time but something’s holding you back

You look down to see Deku’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight, while his lips brush against your neck, murmuring your name in his sleep

Your face heats up and you realize staying like this for the rest of the day isn’t so bad

Shoto Todoroki

You hang out with your friends but grow tired quickly and decide to head back to the hotel early and relax at the spa

You’re surprised to see Shoto in the spa house too, towel draped over his shoulder, no shirt, with shorts on

It makes your heart race and cheeks burn with embarrassment because holy fuck does your crush look good right now

He’s super chill about it and thinks your red face is from the steam of the hot tub or the sauna

“Hello, (Y/N), why aren’t you out with the others?”

“Oh, um, I was getting tired and just wanted to relax.”

“I see. Well, care to join me?” He hangs the towel on a hook and settles into the hot tub

You’re standing there, legs shaking, realizing you’re going to have to strip in front of him

Shoto stares at you expectantly and sees you hesitating

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ll look away.”

After taking off your clothes, swimsuit underneath, you get in beside him

It’s a bit tense at first, but soon you loosen up and have some good, interesting conversations

At bedtime, Iida is listing out the pairs and the room numbers and you hear him say, “(L/N) and Todoroki, room 207.”

“Huh?! Iida, are you sure? I was supposed to be with Denki!”

“Hm, it says Denki’s with Sero on the list. You two must’ve gotten mixed up, I apologize. Will you be okay or do you want to switch?”

“I’m fine with it, how about you (Y/N)?”

You feel like you’re going to collapse because your crush just agreed to be in the same room as you, but you nod a little too excitedly and take the elevator up

As if the day couldn’t get any better worse, there’s only one bed in your room

Even Shoto is a bit taken aback but, being the responsible boy he is, he offers to request a different room, or at least bring a cot up

Without thinking, you blurt out, “What if we shared?” and your whole body stiffens in embarrassment

Surprisingly, Shoto isn’t opposed to it, but he asks if you’re 100% with it first, then gets into bed

His body is cold next to yours and you shiver a little too violently, back turned to him

Shoto takes notice and you feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Sorry, let me warm you up.”

He uses his Quirk and heats up the bed, and although you know it’s an innocent gesture, your mind can’t help but wander elsewhere

“Oh, um, thank you,” you whisper, relaxing in the warmth

“Of course.”

Little did you know, Shoto’s heart was beating a mile a minute, because he too didn’t want to scare his crush—you

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki stays in the hotel the entire day

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with his friends; he’s afraid of getting lost or doing something to mess up the trip for his classmates

You stay with Tamaki in his room, chatting about whatever comes to mind

“Are you sure you want to stay? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“It’s alright, we have two days left anyway. I like being with you, Tamaki!”

He hides the blush growing on his face and you smile because of how cute he looks

Tamaki’s room only has one bed, which isn’t surprising, since it was noted one person would need to be alone due to the odd number of students

Problem was it wasn’t stated who would be alone

As you’re exploring his room, gawking at the view from the window and all the cool little knickknacks, you throw open the closet doors and freeze when you see your stuff

“Huh? Why is this here? Tamaki, did you take my bag on accident?”

“Ah, no! I only brought my stuff up, someone must’ve put it there by mistake.”

You call Nejire and ask about the rooms

“Hmm, it seems like you and Tamaki must’ve been given the same room. Sorry for not checking it over, do you want to be moved?”

“Ah, it’s fine, I guess.”

You and Tamaki try to go back to your conversation but you can tell how nervous he is since night is approaching quickly

Bedtime comes and Tamaki nearly screams when he feels your body pressed against his

Guilt washes over you; “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I’ll go down and get a cot.”

As you’re about to slip out from under the covers, Tamaki suddenly grabs your arm and buries his face in his pillow

“Uhm, (Y/N), i-it’s okay. Y-You can stay, uhm, ah-”

He opens one eye and quickly shuts it, pressing himself so far into the pillow you swear he’s going to suffocate

Confused, you look around, but there’s nothing in the room beside you two in the dark

It hits you— “Tamaki, are you… scared of the dark?”

“What, no! I-I-”

He lets out a little squeak when you stroke his hair, face inches from his

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dabi

You were a vigilante, an anti-hero who believed in helping others but despised the flashiness and celebrity status of pro heroes

Your Quirk, Feline, which gave you the characteristics of a cat, allowed you to work in the comfort of darkness where it was difficult to catch you

You rarely got injured due to your agility, but this night, your target had a Quirk that allowed them to see in the darkness, and left you stumbling down the street with a gash in your side

“Rough night, little kitty?”

Dabi stands under a streetlamp with a smirk

You and Dabi weren’t friends by any means, but you held a certain level of respect for him; part of it was so he wouldn’t cremate you

“Shut up,” you scowl. “I’m perfectly fine- hrgh.”

You press your hand over the wound, blood slipping past your fingers

Suddenly, Dabi throws you over his shoulder, your head knocking against his back as he carries you to his place

“What the fuck- Put me down!”

He lays you on the bed, uncharacteristically gentle, and cleans your wound with a towel

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not gonna let my little kitty walk around like this.”

Dabi covers your wound with a bandage and throws the blanket over you

It’s past midnight and you’re getting sleepy, but you realize you’ve taken up all the space on the bed

Plus, it’d be kind of weird to crash at the place of the man you barely know

“I’ll go then, thanks for the help.” 

He pushes your shoulder and you fall against the pillows

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home?”

“Not like that, kitty.” He circles around to the other side

“Where are you gonna sleep? There’s only one bed.”

“So?” 

Dabi flops onto the mattress and slings one arm around your shoulders, tugging you close— “Go to sleep, kitty.”

Unable to move from the pain and his grip, you have no choice but to snuggle close

Despite his casual demeanor, your heightened sense of hearing amplified the rapid beating of his heart

A smile spreads across your face; this is gonna be great blackmail

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Babysitting (Bakugou)

Rarely did he ever take a Saturday off from either training or studying, he was determined to stay better than everyone else. But, it had been raining since yesterday and he felt like he deserved a break anyways. From morning to afternoon, he enjoyed doing absolutely nothing, scrolling his social media and avoiding liking any of his friends posts on principle.

Shitty hair still won’t shut up about the selfie he liked so now nobody gets any.

His planned day of nothing is interrupted by a knock at his door, and he’s been pacified by memes to a degree where he doesn’t react violently to the intrusion.

Instead he shoves his phone into his pocket as gets up and opens the door, plain faced until he sees it’s you and that you’re holding something. Well, someone.

“Hey!”, you greet with an unusual level of enthusiasm, “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“A favor?”, he asks while he takes in the fact that you’re holding a baby, dressed in a striped onesie.

“Yeah, I’m kinda busy with stuff and I need someone to keep an eye on this little cutie for a bit!” To emphasize the importance or maybe sway him, you turn the baby around so he can see the chubby face.

“... If you’re asking me to babysit it, then no.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, rolling your eyes. “Well don’t call her by ‘it’, and I really need you to do this for me!”

He puts a hand on the door to signal that he’s about to close it, “Nah. Ask shitty hair or Deku, I think they’d love to drool over your kid.” “It’s my aunts baby!”, you say as you put your foot over the threshold, jostling the baby somewhat, which excitedly babbles as it meets his eyes, “They’re busy too, I tried asking! Believe me, you weren’t my first choice.”

“What do you mean by that?” He speaks with annoyance, opening the door fully as his competitive nature rises.

Internally you give a sigh of relief, externally you place the baby on your hip. “Bakugou, I think we both know that you’re awful with children. But you’re my last option and I have nowhere else to turn.”

“I should’ve been your first choice! I’m a fuckin’ wiz at keeping brats well behaved! Gimme!”

“Ah!”, you step out of range of his attempted grab and put out your pointer finger, “Don’t yell at the baby, don’t be aggressive with the baby, and most of all, don’t yell at the baby.”

In spite of your words you know full well he’ll do nothing of the sort, just wanting to give the appearance so he’ll be on his best behavior. He doesn’t have to know he was actually the only one you wanted to watch her.

After all his surface level bullying you can tell he’s soft on the inside, knowing he’s the least likely to give into a baby's whims while also being gentle enough to avoid making her cry.

“Yeah yeah.”, he grumbles, taking her from you when you extend her towards him, “When are you gonna collect the brat?”

You give a 50/50 gesture, shrugging, “Ah an half hour to two hours, but I’ll be back before three hours for sure! She’s been fed and changed recently but just in case,” A bag is revealed when you pull it from behind your back, taking it off by the strap and setting it inside.

“Diapers and toys, if she’s hungry there’s something for her in there too. Just, be careful about that, she’s sorta young for it.”

He nods at your words, watching her grapple at his shirt, having not once taken his eyes off her.

“Thank you!”, you chirp and give him a kiss on the cheek, knowing that he can’t do anything about it while holding her. That makes him glance up at you with some minor malice, which is reduced severely by the dusting of pink across his nose.

With that you take your leave, confident he’ll do fine.

He shuts the door and sits at the edge of his bed, cradling her in his arms. After a moment he takes a look over to the bag you left, thinking it’d probably be best to fish something out of there for her to do.

While he wasn’t experienced in caring for a baby in any capacity that felt like common sense. Plus, it’d allow him to continue wasting time on his phone.

“You,” he gently places her on the middle of the bed as he stands, “are not taking my Saturday from me with your tiny incapable hands.”

With one hand he grabs the bag off the floor and sets it on the bed beside her, opening it and digging through its contents. You were right, the thing is loaded with diapers and many different plastic objects.

Keys, babies love keys.

That toy seems the best choice, taking that and a blanket out before putting the bag on the floor nearby, holding the baby like a barrel under his arm while he flattens the blanket, then placing her on her belly.

He dangles the keys in front of her, watching as her eyes widen as she takes a horribly aimed swipe towards them. With a laugh tinged snort he lets her have them, sitting with his back against the bed and taking his phone out, resuming his leisure hobby.

A minute passes before he peeks over at her to make sure she’s still there, idly chewing on an orange key. It reminds him of something a puppy would do, up until she shoves it in way too far.

He drops his phone and yanks the keys away with concern she’ll vomit, not expecting her to look so upset over it. Briefly she contentedly waits for them to be returned, but when it becomes apparent they aren’t, she scowls.

“No,” he preemptively says, putting the keys down at his other side to keep them away, “you did something fucking stupid, so now they’re off limits. Don’t get all upset over it.”

She huffs and slams a hand down a few times, making a ‘gah’ with very demanding intent.

“I said no. Let me find something else then, calm down.”, he says as he reaches over to grab something random out of the bag, finding a plush red dinosaur. “See? Fun. Chew on this.”

He sets it down in front of her, and she immediately pushes it over, repeating herself. If nothing he gives her credit for having a strange amount of object permanence.

“I. Said. No. The fuck do you want me to do? You’re the one who can’t handle having the damn thing!” With a curt ‘no’ as a final statement, he leans over her to shove the keys back into the bag.

This turns out to be a huge mistake.

In a universally understood way, her face screws up as she starts taking in heavy breaths, which makes his eyebrows raise.

“Don’t. No crying.” his tone is as assertive as he can get it, shaking his head as if to cement it. Her tiny face turns red, sniffling once before fat tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

With no idea what to do in this situation, he starts rummaging through the bag for a solution, diapers spilling out as he digs for a similar toy if there even is one. He cringes as she really starts crying, caving and getting the keys back out, giving them to her. “See? See??”

She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, bawling in the way only babies do, arms giving out as she lays down.

His instincts on consoling anyone are terrible and usually not to be followed but he acts without thinking, picking her up and setting her in his lap, bouncing his leg as he pets her back, softly shushing her, ignoring the part of him that does in fact wish to yell at the baby.

Her tiny body trembles, pawing at his shirt as she rubs her tear stained face into it. Continuing to follow his instincts he lifts her up, both arms cradling her as her head rests against his shoulder. She does eventually calm, relaxing as quiet hiccuping replaces her sobs, breathing regulating.

She's effectively soothed, he on the other hand is completely shaken up.

Jesus, why did that scare him so much? He’d heard babies cry before and always was irritated by it, but this time there was something so different about it. Even now his heart is still racing, mouth dry as he stares forward into the wall with a mixture of worry and gratefulness.

Once she’s relaxed, he picks up the previously discarded dinosaur, placing it in his lap next to her. Thankfully, she seems to have forgotten about the keys, happy to latch onto the plushy.

He takes his phone back out with the intent to resume his earlier scrolling, but he can’t entirely take his eyes off her.  He’s more interested in watching her reactions than he’d ever admit.

In some ways she reminds him of you, mainly the eye color and the way her cheeks pinch up when she smiles.

You seem the motherly type to him so he assumes you’re leagues better at this than he is, but you’ve never mentioned having to babysit her before.

In fact you’ve never mentioned her before at all.

Maybe you enjoyed doing it but kept quiet so you didn’t have anyone intruding or asking to see her, babies can feel stranger danger so that made sense, it’d probably be overwhelming. She doesn’t hate him though, maybe you knew that she wouldn’t? 

Despite the panic she’s sent him through he really wouldn’t mind watching after her again. It'll probably be easier with you here, though he isn’t sure what he’d do if you were, he’d just be sitting around while you did everything.

God, she is really goddamned adorable. He smirks as he takes a second to allow himself to outwardly express something positive, watching her slap her tiny hand against the toy.

Usually the idea of having a baby is the worst one anyone can have, but right now he isn’t all that opposed to it. Not that it looks simple, more that it looks to be worth it.

He knows he’d make super cute babies, based on what he looks like and has always looked like the kid would outshine any other snot maker.

While he didn’t know what you looked like as a baby he just assumed you did too, briefly considering what a baby would look like if it came from you and him.

He’s got his mother's blonde hair despite his father's brunette coloring so that’s a dominant trait, possibly overriding your own but who can know, it’d more likely have more of your features.

Out of anything he’d want a little girl just like this one, though he’d be happy with anything as long as it's yours. Your features have always been something he likes, face as well as body, you’re built well in every aspect he tends to care about.

That, and your winning personality, even he can see that it’s a very pleasant contrast to his own. A kid with a mixture of both would be undoubtedly unstoppable, making him proud left and right.

Suddenly the thought bubble pops as reality rises to the surface.

You’re not his and he doesn’t like you anyways, this doesn’t bear so much thinking since it’ll never happen.

A heat takes to his cheeks as he tries to move on and pretend he wasn’t having a domestic fantasy involving you, mostly pretending he hadn’t had any fantasies about you.

It was something that’d creep into his mind sometimes.

Kirishima and Deku tended to have some softer traits alongside their bolder ones but it just wasn’t the same coming from either of them.

You had a certain tenacity to you, it was totally within your options to let some rich older man take care of you but you wanted more for yourself, you wanted to be a hero.

It made you strong, and you were strong because you worked for it constantly. As thick as your innocence tended to be, he was fairly confident you could knock him unconscious if it strikes you as the right choice.

He shook his head and made an effort to clear out all his emotions, directing his attention back towards the baby to ground himself. 

At some point during his daydreaming she’d knocked out cold, the dinosaur laying on the floor beside him, propped up against his chest, quietly snoozing while drooling a slight amount. Even if he wanted too he couldn’t be grossed out, it was way too cute of a sight for him to get mad.

Looking at her makes him feel tired, so he decides that taking a nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Careful to avoid waking her, he shifts around to get comfortable, hooking an arm around her so she doesn’t teeter backwards while he’s moving.

He thinks about whether he should turn her over and lay her on the blanket, unsure of what the proper protocol is.

His neck is gonna get super fucked up if he stays sat like this, so he very slowly gets up and lays on his bed, keeping her held to his chest until he’s flat enough to let gravity do the work. For a moment he returns to thinking about laying her on a flat surface but he lets her stay as she is, being a light sleeper means he’ll be able to deal with any problems if there are any.

-

After thanking Aizawa for the extra sparring lesson, you quickly get yourself showered and changed.

It’s been about two hours since you left her with Bakugou and you were getting increasingly worried he was reaching his limit.

Honestly you didn’t expect to be gone this long, but you were glad you gave him the estimate because it meant he’d have less reasons to be upset with you.

You prepare yourself for him to yell at you for leaving him alone with a demon for so long, even if she’s rarely a problem you do suspect he’ll be dramatic.

Still, it was a godsend that he said yes to begin with, you were going to make sure to tell him that.

When you get to his room you don’t bother with knocking, opening it to let yourself in without hesitation.

You were going to say something, but you forget the instant you lay eyes on the scene in front of you.

Practically swooning, you place a hand over your mouth to prevent making any noise, getting your phone out to document perhaps the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s laying on his bed, one arm over her and one over his eyes to block out the light, her tiny hands secured around the collar of his shirt, both of them peacefully asleep.

Not intending it to be blackmail but being aware it would probably become that, you take pictures from several different angles, wanting nothing more than to show everyone.

Though, for his own sake, you don’t actually send them anywhere near the class.

This doesn’t mean you don’t send them all to his mother, you do.

It does pain you to know you’ll have to hold off on showing people lest the information come back to him, but you do make it your phones home screen anyways. 

[consumeconstantly]

Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble. 

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place. 

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet. 

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.” 

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip. 

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did. 

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again. 

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected. 

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned. 

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

[aurabird]

Guidance for Guilt

How does one deal with the guilt and regret they feel when they see the way people look at them? You seek out another that has been in the same situation before.

Also on Ao3

Despite the title, this doesn’t actually have angst in it.

-----------

Sausage went by horseback as he left Mythland, too afraid to even touch the corrupted elytra he once wore for longer than a few seconds let alone wear it again.

The ride through the desert was slow despite the well-worn paths from trade routes, the unrelenting heat miserable for both him and his stead and briefly he debated turning back and borrowing an elytra from someone.

Night fell as the moon took the place of the sun. It was a respite from the heat sure, but out here, night brought a chilling cold. The Mythland king would never understand why anyone would want to live in the desert, and yet one of the largest and most powerful empires was nestled at the heart the said biome.

The Vigil of Pixandria shone like a beacon in the night as if to lead those weary and lost among the dunes to shelter from the elements. Sausage grimaced briefly at the fact that the last time he was there, he’d built a fake embassy and trapped it, the aim to kill the empire’s king. He had been struggling to fight off the corruption then and even though he had the self-awareness to know what he was doing was wrong, he did it anyway.

To be fair, his mind argued, Pix HAD issued a challenge to all that wished to prank him to make sure their attempts were more than a pathetic pitfall trap... so was it really Sausage’s fault if the oracle had asked for something so explosive in the first place?

Sand began to transition granite and brick as Sausage entered the oasis of an empire. The streets weren’t empty, but the citizens of Pixandria that were around spoke in hushed whispers of intrigue at him. They didn’t know who he was, he’d worn his assassins guild attire strictly so that he could hide his face.

After all, he was still technically enemy number one in pretty much every single empire. If the Pixandrians had known who had entered their city, then their reactions probably wouldn’t have been the most welcoming.

He found an inn in the center of this residential area and paid the stable boy the money required to leave his horse there before continuing to the capitol of the empire.

As he entered the familiar area he found it mostly empty, understandably so given how late it was, and took time to look at the Vigil; the colorful candles and lanterns that decorated the are around it just as stunning as the last time he’d been here.

Pix had told him once that the Vigil was for the twelve empires alone since in Pixandrian beleif they all had to exist regardless of what terms they were all on lest the balance of the universe be upset. He shuddered at the realization that if his journey in the spirit realm had ended in failure that he could have caused something far more catastrophic than whatever Xornoth would bring to occur.

Then came sadness at the thought of how many of the recorded deaths were by his own hand? He’d been told of the arena fight, how he’d gone on a murder spree when the corruption took control over him entirely...

"I had a feeling you’d show up eventually.” Came a familiar voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sausage turned to face the speaker and found the Copper King himself casually leaning against the wall of a building that looked like a shop of sorts.

Sausage wasn’t surprised that he’d been expected, Pix was a unique individual in the fact that he was an oracle not only with the ability to see deaths seconds before they happened, but he would sometimes get prophetic visions every now and again. He was a wise and kind ruler, albeit with a streak of mischief at times as well. The man no doubt had questions about Sausage’s recent death by Gem’s hand and his delayed respawn, but that’s not why the Mythland king had come to see him.

After the death of the enderdragon, the Copper King had exiled himself in his guilt and regret, heading into the harshness of the desert with almost nothing but the clothes on his back. Signs of his struggle could be seen in the form of scars and burns. This, is why Sausage had come.

“I’m...probably not at the top of your list of people to see right now...but I...I need guidance, Pix. I don’t know how to cope with what I’m feeling.”

Pix gave him a gentle smile, “Come, we’ll discuss it inside.”

The interior of Pix’s abode was something Sausage had only seen once and, at the time, he’d not been in complete control of his body and actions. Now that the haze in his mind was gone, the place was stunning. Sandstone and striped birch made up walls accented with copper. The sandstone and glazed terracotta floor accented with dried honeycomb, desert plants filling pots nestled into corners and on shelves. It was a humble place as opposed to the massive castles and towers of the other empires.

He sat down at an oak table while Pix went off to grab something, returning with a glass of water which Sausage graciously accepted. Pix then sat down opposite of him and spoke "So, since you sit here now, I assume your trip to the spirit realm was successful?“

Of course Pix would know about that, “I think so? I don’t feel corrupted anymore and the haze that used to cloud my mind is gone so...maybe? I...still don’t understand how going there cured me.”

“In Pixandrian beleif, those with damaged souls go there to heal or pass on. Xornoth corrupted yours entirely and when Gem killed you, that’s where you ended up. You were dead to the world for a week, Sausage; the only sign that you were going to come back was because that spirit tether of yours was glowing.”

Sausage pulled the strange object he’d been given by Sir Carlos out and looked at it, “That’s what this thing is called?”

Pix nodded in response, “Most souls that end up in the spirit realm pass on while others get lost and eventually fade away over time. A spirit tether ensures that a soul will find its way back to its body. They are extremely rare so I was surprised to find you had one.”

“A friend gave it to me...I guess I quite literally owe him my life. But my spiritual journey is not why I came here; I see the way everyone looks at me, to them I’m still the servant of evil, Xornoth’s corrupted Champion. I have nightmares of what I’ve done and who I’ve hurt, I have permanent scars to remind me of my mistakes...there’s so much guilt and regret, Pix...I don’t know what to do.”

"Guilt and regret are hard wounds to heal; even now, I still cannot forgive myself for what I did to the enderdragon and, honestly, I don’t think I ever will. Speak with those you wronged, even if they don’t believe you at first. It will take time and effort to fix what has been broken and there will be scarring that remains once the wound heals, but I know you, Sausage, and you’re pretty hard to stay mad at for very long.”

A pained smile crossed Sausage’s mouth at those words, “Even though I’ve caused so much greif and pain?”

"I don’t speak for the others, but the way I see it, if we’re going to stop Xornoth, we need to be united. The sooner we put our quarrels aside, the sooner we can deal with him.”

“Joey is still drunk with power and praise and I’m pretty sure that crown of his is messing with his mind somehow. We need to save him first, Pix, before he’s too far gone for us to do anything.”

Pix nodded, “Agreed. But, for now, you’ve traveled a long way to get here. Why don’t you stay in Pixandria for the night and head off to Mythland to make amends with the others in the morning?”

As if in agreement Sausage yawned, “Alright, thank you Pix, for everything. And...I’m sorry for the embassy trap but you did kinda ask for us to do better pranks.”

A laugh escaped the Copper King at the comment, his brown eyes glinting with mischief, "I did, didn’t I? Well, you know me, my retaliation will be tenfold so I hope you’re ready, Sausage.”

Sausage let out a chuckle and a sly smirk, “Bring it on, Copper King.”

[skaylanphear]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

[b0rista]

i just saw your connie hcs and omg IM SO IN LOVE😩💕 is it okay to request an angst fic where connie’s s/o, gets shot instead of sasha?

— us.

an alternate universe where instead of losing his best friend, connie springer loses his soulmate.

AN: we love traumatizing q-ball here <3

WARNINGS: violence, death, extreme angst. && this is unedited, oops.

as the night deepened in its severity, you were swerving atop the disarray like that of a fallen angel. no matter how inhuman it felt, your duty was inevitable, as was the cause that came alongside it. you were a soldier. you, and your family. well, they weren’t linked to you through blood, but through experience, and even sorrow. as far blood relative, you were sure that you were nearing the final remnants of your family tree.

you win some, you lose some. even through all of the heartbreak and the waste, you'd managed to gain one thing. one beautiful, perplexing thing. well, it was more of a person than it was a thing; your love, your life, your will to move on— your connie. while you'd only become an item recently, you and connie's feelings toward one another go back, and far. in all honesty, you couldn't exactly recall when it was you first started loving him. and with his feeble memory, you were sure that it went both ways. fortunately, you can't bring yourself to care all that much about the past. you were living in the now, and turbulently so.

currently, you were in the midst of a mission. an intense one, at that. while each and every one of your assignments served with severe purpose, this one in particular wasn't meant to be taken lightly. after all, this had to be your very first time off of the island. not only were you standing on unfamiliar soil, but you were also standing within the core of an established battle between two entirely seperate worlds— that fact alone was enough dangerous as it was exhilarating.

however, the said battle was soon coming to a close, and it was nearing the end of your abrupt visit at the marleyan headquarters. the assignment was meant to be brief, if not a little tightly knit. you were to fight alongside the opposing combatants, retrieve your distant comrade, eren jaeger, and retreat immediately. and while you were still a bit skeptical of the literal aircraft you'd be traveling on, it was surely something you could get used to.

standing alongside your given sector of the battlefield, you were preparing for takeoff. due to having excelled in hand to hand combat during your time as a trainee, you were put closer to the ground than the rest of your associates, much to your worried boyfriend's dismay. as always, he fretted over you. if you so pleased, you could drop him on his ass whenever you'd like. even so, it always felt as if your capabilities were underestimated.

nevertheless, this wasn't the time nor the place for you to sulk in your own bitterness. soon, you'd be home. in the mere matter of hours, you'd be back within the comfortable abode of your home, cozied up in the arms of your beloved. in the moment, that's all you could bring yourself to even think about. you were tired, you were. if anything, the fighting only drained you. you were drained, and the only one able to comfort you was halfway across the battlefield, fighting the same fight as you. once you were to rejoice on the aircraft, you would be sure to pester him for the affection you craved ever so intensely.

with that being said, a call from afar was quick to pull you out of your own head and back to reality. from across the calloused ground that you stood upon, a familiar face waved in your direction.

"y/n!" they would call, "we're boarding— it's time to go home."

at that, you wasted no time in gathering yourself. with a nod, you readied your gear, intertwining your fingertips in between the metallic leashes that resided on your hips. with a single jolt, you propell yourself forwards, releasing your gear's wires onto the nearest rooftop. the moment your feet left the ground, you headed toward the jet. alas, your work here was done.

just as your comrade had said, it was time to go home.

while the carnage beneath you served as a grim reminder of just how destructive your livelihood was, it was the thought of returning to your sweet home within the walls that urged you to look away. a fire had been lit upon your very own accord, and you despised this war. still, it was your war to fight, and with good reason. at least, that's what you told yourself.

as your team's blimp came into view, your voyage into the sky became rushed. clearly, you were aching to leave. little did you know that below the latches of your ODM gear, a tiny pair of copper hues were watching you; and with the utmost fury.

with that final clasp hooking to the aircraft's entrance, you swiftly flew into the air, inured hands grasping at the rescue ropes that fluttered against the metal exterior. the air serving a harsh breeze against your skin, you climbed to the door. however, before you could pull yourself in, a hand reached out to your aid.

"come," the voice would say, earning quite the look from you. to your immediate relief, it was the exact person you'd been meaning to see. looking down at you from within the jet was connie, his arm extended out toward you. and while you couldn't exactly see it due to the circumstances, there was a faint glimmer of consolation poured within his golden hues. thank god, you were alright.

taking hold of his hand, you allowed him to pull you up, bringing you into the craft with such a force, you'd have assumed he was angry with you. however, you knew that that wasn't the case— he was relieved, in the same way that you were. and immediately, he began checking you of any possible harm.

"how are you?" he'd ask, fingers moving to pinch at your cheeks. you only winced at the feeling, the literal life being squeezed out of your face as your boyfriend hurriedly scanned you. this was an occurrence that happened at the end of each and every expedition, much to your displeasure. "are you hurt? anything happen while we were seperated? i didn't realize it'd get so hectic, or else i would have-"

in the midst of his banter, you would only place your hands on his forearms, lowering his touch from either side of your face. gently, you would give them a squeeze, providing him with that reassurance that he desperately needed. softly, you would smile, "i'm okay. by the looks of it, most of us are. that's good."

with a sigh, connie would nod. after all, you were right. only few soldiers were injured, and from what the two of you could tell, most of them were coming home. considering the rare occurrence, you could only smile.

from the corner of your eye, you could see more and more comrades boarding the aircraft. and with time, a particularly familiar face would pull himself on board. having made himself out to be quite the leader, it brought warmth to your core to see jean return safely. the same went for your other friends, of course— sasha, mikasa, armin, and so on. at this point in time, you couldn't even classify them as friends. they were family.

seeing as though your lover was quietly waiting to reconcile with the others, you would lay a brief pat to his shoulder. "i'm gonna put up my gear," you'd say, bringing yourself up to your feet. "while i do that, you ought to thank those two for making it through."

with a nod, he would comply. as always, you were the one to nudge him in the right direction. it was your straightforwardness that balanced out connie's constant uncertainty, adding yet another reason as to why the two of you were simply perfect. without any further discussion, he would make his way over to the entrance of the jet, rejoicing with jean and sasha. as he did, you made your way to the compartment sector of the craft, stowing away your gear. after all, there wasn't any further need for it.

as you situated yourself for the trip back to paradis, you would exchange small talk with your fellow soldiers, both congratulating and thanking those who made it back alive. because truly, you were thankful. it wasn't often that you gain such a victory. though, as time went on and you'd circled your way through the plane, you found yourself headed right back to where your heart lingered.

sitting along the back of the carrier, you saw your love hooked in the middle of his fabulous trio of friends, pulling an immediate smile out of you. he was yet to see you, but you could see him. with both of his arms latched onto the other two, you could hear his quiet confession from where you stood.

"it's not very fair to the others, but you guys are special ... to me."

not wanting to spoil the three's moment, you would only watch. it was the tender silence that stitched together a memorable matter of seconds, despite the circumstances. from a fair couple of feet away, you smiled. unfortunately for you, he was able to catch it.

"and you," connie would add, quickly reaching over to grasp your hand, "you're no different."

melting into his touch, all you could do was interlock your fingers in his own, lips tipping in yet another smile. taking advantage of the opportunity, the boy would pull you into his shared embrace, tugging you in between him and the other two. the iron outline of your uniform managed to graze jean's side, causing quite the exclamation: "ouch, jackasses. don't go for the hug when you're covered head-to-toe in metal."

of course, you would only ignore the brunette's antics, further sinking into the heavenly embrace of your lover. with your cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers tracing along the locks of your hair, you immediately felt at ease. this was home.

"now, now," sasha would coo, adjusting her ponytail, "now isn't the time to overflow the aircraft in your PDA, lovebirds. when do we get to eat?"

pulling your head from connie's chest, you would let out a chuckle, "not until we land, sasha. you do realize we're in the air, right?"

"ah," the girl would sigh, sheepishly moving to scratch the back of her neck. adjusting yourselves, the bunch of you moved to your feet, "i suppose i haven't quite adjusted just yet. just three years ago, we relied on our horses for everything."

"yeah," jean would add, "somehow, it feels like that was just yesterday."

now that you were all situated, the four of you shifted further towards the rest of your team, who were all dancing and shouting in celebration. you hadn't even realized how elated everyone was, having been so focused on the others. out of everyone boarded the ship, it was those who were apart of the 104th that had witnessed the most. with that in mind, acts of celebration were more mild than anything else. while you were glad, you were glad quietly.

still, something felt off. somebody was missing.

just as you were about to make a comment regarding the missing member of the squadron, a quick remark from sasha caught your attention.

"did you hear a sound just now?"

while the other two dismissed the thought, it was you that took it into a much more thorough consideration. compared to anyone else, sasha's sense of hearing was impeccable. while the others may have failed to realize it, she heard something. and with her senses mixed with your paranoia, you were quick to take the remark into account. out of instinct, you watched the door. the door was open, and one of your comrades from below remained missing. the door was open, and sasha heard something. the door was open, and it was vacant of any sort of movement.

the door was open, and someone slipped through.

a miniature figure with a barreled weapon pounced through the doorway and onto the aircraft, and at the sight of a single finger latched onto the trigger, your heart itself dropped. before anyone else had the chance to react, you did. seeing as though the muzzle was aiming toward the center of the flood, you were quick to lunge sideways, pushing whoever it was that stood before the armed figure out of the way. as you flushed whatever will you had to live into the force of your push, sasha simply looked at you in horror— the horror of having to survive, simply due to your own accord.

it was quick. it was immediate, the single bullet, plunging directly into your chest. it was quick to enter you, and it was just as quick to warp you of your senses completely. while you saw that you were falling, you couldn't feel the impact of the wooden floor beating into your back. you couldn't feel it. you felt nothing.

and while you felt nothing, connie felt everything. his entire universe, crumbling apart before him.

in a blend of absolute horror, you could see from your hindsight as he rushed to your side, palms immediately moving to cup your face. moving your blurred gaze towards him, he would shout at you. he would shout, but it was all unintelligible.

"no, no, no," he would mutter, fiercely shaking his head. you were in an absolute daze, and he couldn't sense what you were feeling. hell arose in the back, and your attackers were being mercilessly beaten into defeat. your friends, however, didn't leave your side.

tears brimming in her eyes, sasha would rush to get some sort of a bandage for your wound, which was bleeding profusely. before anyone could process anything, you were laying in a pool of blood, the crimson flow staining your uniform.

"goddammit— HURRY!" your lover would scream, eyes wide. your head lay in his lap, and his fingers tenderly graze the sides of your cheeks in a loving, desperate manner. soon enough, he would feel the raw set of tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes, too. this wasn't happening, this couldn't happen. not to you. dear god, not to you.

"look at me, y/n." he would say, to which you tried your absolute hardest to oblige. you tried, but as your life itself began to drain, you only struggled.

"you can't leave, baby. you can't go, not yet. not after everything we've been through, everything we've fought for! it's always been us, it's always been you. look at me!"

however, you couldn't look. no, you couldn't do anything. instead, you could use whatever strength you held, and mutter the very last of your words: "us."

it's always been us.

with that, your blood went cold. and as your eyes closed, and your skin paled, a blood curdling scream begging you to stay filled the air around you.

[yoonjinkooked]

CHEMISTRY | JHS (3)

PART 3 - ONE KISS

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut (a bit of a slowburn)

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, hot Hoseok who knows what he wants, kissing (is that a warning), the deal is almost made, JK has a bad music taste (not really tho)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since OCTOBER and i finally edited it today because I can’t f-ing get Jung Hoseok out of my head. Sigh. Let me know what you think! I’m balancing this story with others and I hope I’ll have an update for you soon! 

As the days passed one by one you knew that the luxury of avoiding Hoseok is going to escape your grasp soon. Frankly, it’s a miracle you’ve been able to avoid him as long as you have and with Yoongi’s birthday this weekend, you know your lucky streak will break soon.

You didn’t expect it to break before that, not really. But here you were, minding your own business, studying on campus in a makeshift picnic setting and taking in the first proper rays of sunshine of the year, when he popped up from the tree behind you, very clearly cornering you.

And scaring the living daylights out of you too, as you end up clutching your chest and cursing at him while he laughed his ass off at the sight of you freaked out. “You nearly killed me, you idiot. Was it worth it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he laughs as he plops down on the grass next to you, completely casual, as if nothing between you has changed. To be fair, perhaps it hasn’t, in his eyes. “Let’s be honest here Y/N, I had to ambush you. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” he emphasises and although you wish you could call him out for being overly dramatic, you couldn’t. Leave it to Jung Hoseok to not beat around the bush and call you out directly. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you mumble, not even bothering to try and deny. That makes him laugh, a sound that sounds so misplaced in your current setting. It feels wrong to openly discuss the awkwardness that has formed between you while he is literally laughing at it.

“You ran out of the cafeteria the other day so fast, Namjoon is still calling you Speedy Gonzales,” he jokes, laughing harder when you curse that traitor under your breath. At least he is joking around with you. You wish he would ignore it altogether, but it could be worse.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a groan, consciously avoiding making direct eye contact with him. “You know I can get awkward like this. It’s not your fault, it’s… all me.”

“Y/N, come on,” he leans closer to you and nudges your shoulder with his. “It’s me you’re talking to. There’s not a single reason to avoid me. We are both consensual adults who wanted to make out at a party. It’s as simple as that.”

This time, you turn and give him a good look, unsurprised to find a content smile on his face. He is bright and positive just like he always is, to the point of it being both annoying and overbearing at times. He has always been a great friend but there were times when his positivity and energy were too much for a grumpy ol’ potato of a person that you are 24/7. Now, however, you are glad for it. Unlike you, he obviously wasn’t beating himself too much about what had happened between you.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re not feeling awkward and I shouldn’t either?” you ask.

“Exactly,” he shrugs. “You are… one hell of a kisser,” his eyes widen in a way that makes it seem like he is shocked by how good of a kisser you are.

“Hoseok, please,” you hiss at him, not even caring if he was telling you the truth or lying to spare your confidence. You are embarrassed and he knows it well.

“I mean it!” he laughs, amused by your sudden shyness – it’s a side of you your friends are not used to seeing, simply because you don’t normally do shit you’re ashamed of, at least not when they are directly involved. And if you do, more often than not, you own up to your bullshit. You’ve had your fair share of moments that would normally be counted as humiliating, only to brush them off casually and move on with your life. Not this one, though.

“You need to stop,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping that this conversation will simply end. “I was drunk, I came onto you way too strong and I am pretty sure I used way too much tongue.”

“If you think that I didn’t find it hot how confident you were that night, I’m afraid you don’t know me well,” he bites back. You are instantly shocked, not imagining him taking the conversation in that direction and also shocked by the nature of his admission too - Hoseok always struck you as more of a hunter than prey. You didn’t exactly keep track of his hook-ups but you were fairly sure that he was the one who initiated them more often than not. “And for the record, it was the perfect amount of tongue.”

Oh good lord. If you knew he would say the things he is saying, you would have tried desperately to avoid him for… well, the rest of your life, really.

“Please stop before I dig a hole for myself, right here, right now.”

“Why are you acting so shy about this Y/N?” he is laughing, once again nudging you with your shoulder, which only makes it more obvious to you how close you are sitting next to each other. Before, you wouldn’t bat an eye. Now, it’s driving you mad. “You know me, I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to, that is,” he adds cheekily.

“Oh, I noticed, my neck had a lovely little souvenir,” you reply before you could realize what you were even saying. There’s no way he’ll let it go now and the worst part is, you don’t even want him to. You’re saying that you do but in reality, you yourself are finding ways to deepen the conversation. This whole thing is crazy and… wrong! “Why are you making it sound like you want to do it again?” you whine, wishing he would just be up for forgetting about it.

“Well… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

You turn your head towards him so fast, you strain your neck and wince in pain, reaching at it with your hand. “Are you okay?” he asks, wide-eyed and worried, as he watches you rub your neck and grimace in pain.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” you counter, completely floored by the words that left his mouth seconds ago. You have avoided him because you’re an awkward idiot, not because you thought that he’d be up for a re-run. “Did you just suggest what I think you suggested?”

“To be fair, I didn’t suggest it, I simply said that I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he shrugs.

“Hoseok,” you glare at him, making him laugh. Even now, he laughs.

“I mean… why not?” he shrugs casually and all you can do is stare and blink dumbly at him, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to breathe, too. “If that party showed us anything, it’s that we definitely have chemistry that… goes beyond friendship. I’m not looking for anything serious and as far as I know, you aren’t either,” he continues and after a few seconds of silence, you realize that he’s waiting for some sort of a response from you. Unsure of what to say, you simply nod your head - after all, it is true. You are not looking for a relationship, not after the last two ended in tears and you drowned in vodka and chocolate ice cream. “Why not… take advantage of the opportunity?”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what that opportunity is,” you’re not sure why you are even asking him that, when you know damn well what he is implying. You suppose that it would settle the last remains of doubt if you were to hear him say it more directly.

“Two single, and if I may add, incredibly good looking, friends who want, or in our case, don’t want the same things,” he cocks his head to the side, a small smile on his face. He looks way too cute for someone who is suggesting you sex with no added obligations. If you are not terribly mistaken and he has something else entirely on his mind. “Why not take advantage of the situation? And the chemistry - holy hell Y/N, you know we have it.”

He’s… absolutely right. Despite being drunk, you can clearly remember how… feverish you felt that night. You just wanted to keep kissing him, annoyed when you had to part for one second to simply breathe. If you had one more drink in you or if there had been fewer people around you, you’re not sure if the night would end with the two of you fully clothed. You have amazing chemistry as friends and you felt the sexual side of it that night. It would be stupid to deny it when you know well how rare it is to simply click with someone in the manner that the two of you had clicked that night.

“We do… but we’re also friends. And you know how shitty deals like these can end,” you point out the obvious. There are millions of books and movies about how ‘friends with benefits’ is a horrible, terrible idea because there’s an incredibly high chance of it ending in tears. “One of us could end up taking that chemistry to the next level and catch feelings. I’m not good in chemistry – I’m an art history major for a reason,” you joke, relieved when it actually makes him chuckle.

“That’s a good point. But we’re also really good friends, Y/N. We know each other well and we talk. If it would become too much for one of us, we could simply… talk. And I’m not suggesting anything… specific. I’m not here saying we should hook up until one of us decides they want to move on,” he tells you.

“Dude, you’re confusing as fuck,” you sigh, laughing along with him. “What are you suggesting then?”

“I’m just saying,” he grunts as he stands up, pausing to wipe down his jeans, while you make a conscious effort of not looking down because... thighs. “The next time you’re drunk, horny or bored, or even all of the above, you know where to find me.”

He looks down at you, the smile gracing his face slowly turning into the tiniest of smirks, before he gives you a wink. And with that, he simply turns around and walks away, leaving you with your mouth open, looking like a complete idiot while you try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Nah, you know damn well what just happened. You have enough dating and flirting escapades behind you to recognize the look of someone who’d be happy to fuck you. The particular someone being Jung Hoseok is what is leaving you absolutely shocked and at a loss for words. As honored as you are and as much as the offer is… incredibly tempting, this is not something you can decide on the spot.

No, because you’re a dumbass. Of course you can’t decide this on the spot but you could decide in a matter of seconds that you want to stick your tongue down his throat and let him grab your ass while you grind on him as if your life depended on it. You weren’t expecting this turn of events and unsurprisingly, you have no idea what you should do about it. It’s tempting, in all the wrong ways, but it is also making alarm bells in your head go off. It could easily end in tears - the real question is, would it be worth it?

It took three full songs for you to start wondering if you have stepped through a time machine when you’ve entered Seokjin’s house. How Jungkook managed to convince Yoongi to let him DJ at his birthday party was a mystery that you at first ignored, but by the time he played that one Nicole Scherzinger and 50 Cent song, you’ve decided to investigate. “How much did you pay him to let you DJ?” you laugh at your friend, who looks up at you and grins, dancing in place with his trusty neon green Beats around his neck.

“Come here baby, hey be my baby, hey be my baby,” he sings at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Fuck Jungkook, please don’t drop out of school, you need that degree more than you know,” you say as you offer a comforting pat on his back.

“For your information, the theme of the party is ‘guilty pleasure’,” he announces with a proud smile. “And Nicole just so happens to be mine.”

“You and me both,” you admit with a huff, turning around to scan the room in the search of Jin - you’ve been looking for him for the past couple of minutes, with no luck. “Did you see Seokjin? He went to make me a drink with the gin from his expensive stash, but it’s been like…  half an hour?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, pointing behind you. “He’s right there with Hobi.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear in order to know what you must do next – hide. You did not bother checking, you did not look back – you simply dropped down to the ground and plopped your ass right next to Jungkook’s feet. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” your friend laughs, looking down at you in disbelief. “Are you still hiding from Hobi?”

“No, I’m sitting here because the view of your thighs is nice,” you roll your eyes. “Of course I’m hiding from Hobi! I’m not mentally prepared to deal with him right now. Although, you do have weirdly muscular thighs,” you add absentmindedly - what is it with them and thighs? First Hoseok, now him - do they only do leg days when they hit the gym?

“Stop,” Jungkook laughs down at you. “Are you seriously planning on running from him forever?”

“Not forever,” you shrug casually. “Until the end of the year, maybe.”

“I mean, I can’t stop you… but you do realize that if he finds you here, it’s going to look like you were giving me a blowjob or something?” he pointed out, eliciting another casual shrug from you.

“Good. He’ll think I’m busy and leave me alone,” you offer Jungkook an angelic smile. He knows better than to push you – when you want to, you can be stubborn as all hell and sadly, Jungkook’s has plenty of experience with being on the receiving end of said stubbornness.

You know what he’s thinking – you can tell from the way he shakes his head and decides to ignore your presence by his feet while he focuses his attention to that god-awful playlist of his – you know exactly what he’s thinking and he has a point. You’re pathetic. A coward. An idiot.

You have shamelessly lied to yourself earlier tonight, as you were getting ready for the party. You’ve told yourself, repeatedly, that you are ready to face Jung Hoseok, despite not knowing what your answer is to his suggestion from a few days ago. You have convinced yourself that you were ready to face him. Seeing as you're hiding behind a damn desk, just meters away from him, it’s pretty obvious that you are not.

He hasn’t left your head in days, to the point of even appearing in your dreams, even if he was just on the sidelines. For years, you have been blind to all the gifts Jung Hoseok has to give, and now they’re slapping you in the face all day long.

You want him, that much you’re ready to admit. Definitely to yourself, perhaps even to him. But are you willing to put an entire friendship on the line and go through with that desire? That’s not a question you know the answer to. For the time being, you will just… keep on hiding behind the makeshift DJ booth, until Jungkook informs you that the coast is clear.

“We’re drinking that whiskey tomorrow, got it?” Yoongi asks, referring to the birthday gift you’ve given him earlier, which he had to hide in one of Seokjin’s spare bedrooms, given that the house is full of people who’d drink anything that’d fall into their hands. “You and me, tomorrow night, drinking back at my place. Let’s make it fancy. Wear a beret or something.”

“Why would I wear a beret while drinking whiskey?” you laugh in confusion. “What’s the correlation?”

“Both are fancy,” Yoongi shrugs and after a few seconds, so do you. If he wants to drink expensive whiskey whilst wearing a beret, that’s what you’re going to do. Having a drink or two with Yoongi, in almost complete silence, has become sort of a tradition for the two of you. Compared to the rest of your friend group, you and Yoongi are the quieter, less social ones. How you wound up in a circle of friends that include permanent hyper bunny Jungkook and Mr. Loudest-Laugh-Ever Jin was beyond you.

“Can I join?” you hear Joon’s booming voice. He approaches the two of you, throwing a hand around your shoulder. Glaring, you grab a hold of his hand and move it away from you, watching as Yoongi laughs in confusion at your open hostility towards Namjoon.

“Not you,” you point a finger at him accusingly. “I’m still pissed at you. You haven’t gotten to your redemption ark yet.”

“What did you do now?” Yoongi sighs, looking at Namjoon as if you were not in the middle of the conversation with him.

“I teased her about hiding from Hobi,” Namjoon announces with a shit eating grin. “Guess Speedy Gonzales here doesn’t like to hear the truth.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely avoiding Hoseok,” you admit shamelessly – it’s become obvious now, why would you bother to deny? “I just don’t want to talk about it and you can be one pushy bitch when you really want to.”

“You’re both idiots,” Yoongi shakes his head, sighing. “I truly wonder why I’m friends with you?”

“Well, I buy you good whiskey. Dunno what’s his excuse,” you offer Namjoon one last glare. Deciding you’ve had enough of his judgment and teasing for one night, you beeline towards one of your two safety nets – Sana. As good of a cover Jungkook was, you didn’t want to cockblock the poor boy all night, and he has been talking with some freshman for the last couple of songs. Sana, being practically your only female friend in existence would definitely be more willing to help you out, but by the time you’re halfway towards her, you notice that she is talking to a senior she’s had a crush on pretty much since you’ve met her.

Brilliant. You can either find a new cover or be a cockblocking friend. Whatever you decide to do, you need a drink first. Settling for cheap gin this time around, you venture into the kitchen, ready to get wasted and cursing under your breath at Jungkook’s horrible taste in music, as you are forced to listen to Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ at full blast.

One more drink and it’ll be socially acceptable for you to leave the party. You’ve stuck around for long enough, even managing to enjoy yourself a little bit. Not enough though, not compared to the tension that you’ve been feeling in your gut even before you got here.

“Hi.”

If you were holding your drink, you would have dropped it. Even the sound of his voice is enough to make a shiver run down your spine. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you muster enough strength to turn around and face him.

Nope, that wasn’t enough strength. You needed more. You needed more to face Jung Hoseok, in ripped skin tight jeans, a black shirt with a v neck, messy hair and a smirk on his face, casually leaning on the wall next to the kitchen door. You could have taken an hour to collect yourself and prepare for your pending doom, and it would not be enough to prepare you for the Hoseok you were facing now. Especially when he is smirking at you, looking at you like he knows exactly what thoughts are roaming around your head. Add to that the horrible soundtrack courtesy of Jungkook, and you are overcome with a sudden wish to die, right here, right now.

“You’ve been avoiding me again,” he points out the obvious.

“And you’re cornering me again,” you argue back, hoping that he didn’t notice you gulping, literally gulping.

“I’m not cornering you,” he chuckles. Your eyes go wide when he stands up straight, no longer leaning on the wall. Slowly, he starts walking towards you and you walk backwards right into the table, no longer having room for an escape. He stops in front of you but he’s too close, too close for comfort, to the point of you being able to see a single freckle on his nose, despite having a decent amount of alcohol in your system already.

“Oh no,” you suddenly move to the right, towards the door, towards your escape. “Stay away from me, Satan!”

“Satan?” he laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah, Satan,” you confirm without a second thought, looking at him up and down. “Did you look into the mirror before you left your house? You’re sex on legs, Hoseok. So yeah. Satan.”

“For someone who’s about to run for the exit, the words you’re saying are making me think you don’t really want to do that,” he laughs, although he doesn’t step any closer to you. As ready as you were to call him Satan just seconds ago, you see his true good self shining through. He’s chasing you, very obviously so, but he is not pushing you too far and you know that he’ll recognize if he actually should step away. He doesn’t want to literally make you run in the opposite direction and the space he leaves between you is confirmation of that.

“You think I don’t want to run?” you ask and immediately he nods. “Maybe. You’re here. You’re hot. For some reason I can’t fathom, you want something with me. That’s inviting, yet very scary at the same time.”

“And do you want something with me?” he asks, no longer smirking.

“Honestly? Yes and no,” you answer, cursing yourself in your mind – alcohol always makes you talk more than you should. But in this case, maybe that’s exactly what you need - just a little bit of honesty. “I’m attracted to you, you’re an amazing kisser and we’re both single. Why not? And the answer to that question is simple -  we’re friends. There’s… way too much at risk here, Hobi.”

“We’re better than that,” he shakes his head immediately. “We’re not stupid, horny teenagers. We know each other well. We’d be mature enough to stay friendly, or at the very least cordial, no matter what happens.”

Both of you do have a reputation of remaining friendly with your exes. Except for your last one, but that’s a story you don’t wish to revisit, especially not tonight. Broken hearts mend with time, people grow, find others and life goes on. If you set the terms the way you both want them, in theory, it truly doesn’t have to end in tears.

“What exactly are you offering me? And miss me with that ‘whatever you want’ bullshit you offered me the other day,” you interrupt him, chuckling when he closes his mouth dumbly, obviously having been ready to say just that. “Do you want to make out? Do you want to fuck me? Once or on a regular basis? To kill time until someone better comes along or in the hopes of it becoming more? I can’t make a decision if you don’t tell me exactly what you want, Hoseok,” you tell him. You were honest with him and now, it’s his turn.

“I want you.”

“Effective, but not effective enough,” you mumble, ignoring the stirring in your stomach that started as he said those words with… earnesty, with meaning. Hearing that you are wanted is always a good fluff up for an ego, but to hear it said like that, dead seriously, by someone you find incredibly attractive? It’s so good, it’s borderline painful.

“I’ll take what you give,” he shrugs casually. “What do you want?” he throws the question back at you. Shameless is what he is.

“A husband, two kids, two dogs and a house with a white picket fence?” you joke.

“Y/N,” he glares playfully at you, laughing. “You might want that down the road but do you really want that now?”

“God no,” you snort in response.

“So what do you want now?” he asks again. “It can be a one-time thing. It can be regular. As you said, we can kill time until someone better comes along,” he rolls his eyes at the phrase, obviously not liking the sound of it. “It doesn’t have to be sex, for all I care. We can just fool around at parties. Or we can pretend like none of this ever happened and just continue being just friends,” he shrugs.

“When you say it like that I wonder if you even want anything from me,” you laugh.

“Y/N, I have barely been able to stop thinking about kissing you ever since that night,” he deadpans, looking straight at you, not a trace of teasing or joking on his face. “Which was pretty horrible, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me and I had a molecular biology paper to finish. I do want you, probably more than you realize or want to accept. And I’m taking whatever it is that you offer. If I had my pick, we’d be friends that… occasionally become more than that.”

“So, to put it in simple terms, you want a friends with benefits thing with me?” you ask.

“Yes. But if you don’t want that, I’ll respect it and stick to it. You’re my friend, Y/N,” he smiles at you and it’s almost calming to be on the receiving end of his genuine smile and not that evil smirk that does things to you. “I’m not losing that friendship if I want to fuck and you don’t. So… whatever you want to do, that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Here you are again, faced with an opportunity that you know will likely end badly for you, perhaps even both of you at once. And again you wonder, if all the possible negatives are worth it - worth of finally succumbing to this sudden and overwhelming desire you feel for Hoseok. Turning his offer into reality… is it worth it?

“I need to think about it,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not thinking straight right now. I’m not wasted, I’m just… hazed. Horny. However you want to call it. And I don’t trust my judgment around you right now. If we go through with this, I need to have a clear head when making the final decision.”

“Take all the time you need,” when you open your eyes, he’s smiling at you still. “I do have two tiny requests, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Please stop hiding from me. It’s weird and I think you’re scaring Jungkook,” he grimaces.

“You saw that?!”

“Of course I did,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

“Stop!” you order him.

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping,” he lifts his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “I’m pretending you didn’t duck and hide when you heard I was around,” he laughs. The fucker knows how embarrassing it is for you and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“What’s the second request?” you ask, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Would you let me kiss you again?” he asks.

“Hoseok…” both your words and eyes are warning, as it’s going directly against what you want right now - a clear head. Kissing him would muddle it all, you know it. Not to mention how easier it would be to take things a notch further, given that you both know now that you want more.

“Just one kiss,” he elaborates. “It’s not gonna turn into a kitchen make out session or something more. And if you don’t want it, it’s not happening. We’ll never do something you don’t want, Y/N. You know me, I’m not like that.”

You do know him and you clearly remember him refusing you at first because he thought you might have had too much to drink and were acting out. You didn’t, you were well aware of what you were doing. Yes, you had no idea why you were doing it but your actions were not a drunken side-effect. Not then and not now. And damn it, you really want to kiss him again.

“One kiss,” you lift your hand in warning, but that was enough for him. He takes a few steps and closes the distance between you – was he being deliberately slow or were you imagining things, you’re not sure. All you know is, it lasted enough for your heart to start going into overdrive even before your lips met his.

It’s just a kiss, but at the same time, it isn’t. He’s not grinding against you, he’s not groping you, he’s not taking it anywhere it shouldn’t go. His hands are in place on your waist, gentler than you remember them being the last time. He’s respectful and careful, in every way except with the actual kiss. Before you even get to mentally prepare yourself for it, he parts your lips with his and tongue meets yours.

You’re the one who moves. You’re the one who threatens to take this further than it should go, as you put your hands around his neck and run your fingers through his hair, pressing your body just a bit closer to his.

It’s his fault. His kiss made you do it. He’s way too good of a kisser for his own good.

Thankfully, the one who initiated it is also the one who pulls away. Breathless and with eyes on your lips, Hobi moves away, letting your hands drop out of his hair as he keeps a safe distance.

“One kiss,” he repeats your earlier words. “Until you tell me you want more.”

Yeah, it meddled with your mind. Despite telling him you need more time to think about it, you know it’s already settled in your mind. You’ll definitely be coming back for more.

[hacawijo]

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“At two in the morning?”

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

[peterparker-pickedapepper]

Always You

(Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Stark!Reader)

Chapter 01

A/N: this is set during Homecoming (and eventually FFH) in a universe where Tony isn’t ☠️ bc we don’t acknowledge that trauma here 🙂 also, there are elements from the comics and the older movies, but it’s still in the MCU

———————————————————————

I never meant to find it.

And I wasn’t being nosy either. It was my dads fault, really. Okay so yes, I wasn’t supposed to be in his workshop. But is it my fault he just leaves important things lying around? Mom’s told him to keep it tidy enough times you think it’d be engrained in his brain.

Anyway, the how isn’t important. Not even the why matters. It’s everything that came after.

It was the day my world began falling apart.

The moment I lost all trust—all respect—for the two men closest to my heart.

Now that I know their secret, I don’t see how I’ll be able to look them in the eye. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to keep my head up, act as normal as possible...

And see how long it takes for them to tell me themselves.

———————————————————————

                      Three Months Earlier

“I’m here on the corner of fifth and main, just a street away from the reported sighting of a flying man causing panic among the locals.”

Y/N adjusted her fingers around the smooth base of the microphone, her skin slipping against the hard plastic. It wasn’t nerves causing the dampness on her palms, but excitement. Her eyes flickered from the camera lens pointed in her direction to her best friend standing behind it before easily finding their mark again.

“The large, mechanically winged man has been wrecking havoc in New York’s beloved neighborhood of Queens for the last—”

The ground suddenly shifted beneath her feet with a loud boom, jolting her forward and stopping her report mid-sentence. She twirled around, eyes instantly landing on the sandwich shop across the street.

Or, rather, on the man looming ominously from its roof.

She could only assume it was a man. She’d never seen his face—or any part of his body for that matter—not that his skintight suit left anything to the imagination. But the media affectionately called him “Spider-Man”, so they pretty much filled in the blanks on that one.

She watched as he seemingly surveyed the area. It was always so hard to tell what was going on behind that mask, but every time she saw him she liked to imagine a picture perfect heroic expression etched into handsome features.

It made her disdain for the local superstar a little easier to swallow down.

His head swiveled back and forth a few times, fists clenching at his sides, before he shot one of his webs and disappeared on the other side of the building. She immediately turned back toward her camerawoman, lips pulled into an excited grin.

“This is perfect. Come on.” She wasted no time in scooping up some of the equipment laying at her feet, but stopped short when she noticed the apprehensive expression staring back at her.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to run toward danger today.” Her best friend’s bored voice didn’t match the concern she knew was brewing just below the surface.

“MJ,” Y/N all but whined. “We need this story.”

“We need to get ready for next week’s debate.” She muttered, mild annoyance seeping through. “We need to be home in twenty minutes so your dad doesn’t kill us. We need—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Y/N huffed, tossing the last of the camera supplies into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned on her heel, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she moved toward the last crash that sounded a few blocks away. She was getting this story, whether she had to go alone or not. Screw her father’s arbitrary curfew. He was in India for the next few days, anyway.

“You’re serious?” MJ’s incredulous voice echoed from behind her. “What about Liz’s party?”

Y/N’s attention only wavered from the small screen in her hands once she was finished temporarily disabling the tracking feature her dad had not so subtly installed before giving it to her. He didn’t need to know she almost immediately figured out it was there, just like she didn’t need to know that he got a notification every time she hacked into the system.

Her eyes found MJ’s, wide with shock and following something in the sky above. Y/N’s head snapped upward, gaze locking on the flying man who was twisting and turning aggressively in an attempt to kick Spider-Man off his right wing.

“Yes. Very serious.” She huffed, pulse jumping with excitement. “If FRIDAY calls just, please, try to be convincing.”

With that, she spun around one last time before jogging toward the action. She knew MJ’s hesitation was coming from a good place. They’d been inseparable since middle school because they were on opposing ends of the same strong-willed base.

Where MJ was methodical and calculated, Y/N was rash and unpredictable. They were both the type to end up involved in sketchy situations, just at varying speeds and levels of grandeur. Y/N had her father to thank for that.

The iconic Tony Stark was not a pretender. He was who he was, loud and proud. He’d never apologized for it before—not even when he should’ve—and he probably never would. Y/N, on the other hand, had been pretending to be something she wasn’t for more than a decade.

He’d given her a choice when she was old enough for kindergarten. They talked about it, mapped out the pros and cons, and she made a decision. Soon after, she entered the outside world as Y/N Smith. It was the best thing her five year old brain could think of. Plus, she didn’t want her place on the alphabetical rosters to change.

She went to public schools—something Tony never missed an opportunity to mention he hated—and started paving her own way. Right now, that meant she was chasing a super-powered fight through the streets of Queens.

Since landing a highly sought after internship at The Daily Bugle, Y/N’s main priority had been impressing her overbearing bosses. That came with varying levels of complexity, depending on the superhero shenanigans of the month.

She rounded a corner into an alleyway, instantly ducking down when a blindingly bright object whizzed by her head. Her arms shot up in a protective motion as she leaned against the cool brick wall at her side. She remained there, frozen in place with a racing heart, for several seconds.

Something thumped to the concrete only a foot away from her crumpled frame, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She peeked through her arms, still crossed over her head, eyes widening as they landed on a pile of red and black fabric.

The lump groaned and slowly unraveled to reveal Queens’ favorite masked hero. He shook his head, the mechanical eyes of his suit twitching as if malfunctioning. Y/N was stuck in her spot, wide eyes hungrily drinking in every detail they could. Despite following his activity for months now, she’d never gotten this close to the mystery man.

His suit was tighter than she thought possible. It hugged his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The rippling muscles lining his torso were clearly visible beneath the thick material. She watched as he sat back on his heels and rubbed the side of his head, shoulders tensing as he seemed to finally realize that she was there.

“Whoa, hey.” Came his breathy, surprisingly high-pitched greeting. He cleared his throat before continuing, a steady hand extending her way. “Are you okay, miss?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in curiosity, not missing the way his demeanor changed the moment he noticed her. It was like a flip switched. He’d turned on his superhero persona, a process she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

“I’m fine.” The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended, but she was all business now, too.

There was no way she was letting him out of her sight without getting some information. She wasn’t even worried about all the ways her bosses would kill her, she’d beat herself up enough for the missed opportunity. She ignored his hand, dusting her jeans off and hobbling to her feet before reaching for her phone to launch the recording app.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Spider-Man?” She jutted the phone out in front of her, and he took a step back as if the device would somehow hurt him.

The eyes on his mask widened, something she didn’t know was possible. “Oh. I...uh—”

Just then, the ground shook with a massive impact that couldn’t have been more than a block away. It would’ve knocked Y/N right off her feet if it weren’t for the gloved hand that shot out to stabilize her.

“Gotta go!”

By the time his hasty goodbye met her ears, he was gone. It took about ten seconds for Y/N to process what just happened before she took off running in the same direction he’d swung in. She was too far in to give up now. At this point, she’d settle for some shaky footage of the fight. It’d be enough to satisfy her editors for a few days.

She ran out in the street, stopping abruptly as a stampede of people swarmed her. Elbows and shoulders rammed into her sides as she tried fighting her way through the panic. 

“Oh, come on people! Chill the fuck out!” She found herself shouting to deaf ears. 

Maybe it was because she grew up immersed in the superhero way of life, or her bordering on unhealthy need to get some kind of story tonight, but either way she was aggravated by the public reaction more than anything.

She was rarely scared anymore, even when faced with imminent danger. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good gauge for when she might be getting herself into trouble. Another thing she blamed her father for. 

Her eyes remained trained on the sky, watching the fight unfold in mid-air. She cringed as Spider-Man nearly fell off the homemade-looking flying suit. He quickly regained his balance, shooting a web into one of the back engines. It immediately started sputtering as the metal clanked and caught in the sticky substance. 

They were going down, and fast. She knew this was probably her last chance to get any kind of discernable footage of the event, so she reached into her back pocket for her phone. It was at this moment that someone decided to shove into her so hard that she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. 

A rush of air left her lungs as she hit the asphalt, hard. She couldn’t help but wince as pain shot up both of her arms. There would definitely be bruises she’d need to hide later. Thankfully, at least she ended up near the curb so she wasn’t instantly trampled to death by the screaming crowd. 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and huffed, wiping away the tiny rocks that were now embedded into her palms. She was about to hobble to her feet and call tonight a wash when her eyes landed on a blueish-purple glow coming from a nearby alley.

Maybe she wouldn’t get any useable footage tonight, but a souvenir would lift her spirits and, hopefully, her credibility in the office. Without wasting anymore time, she stumbled to her feet and ducked into the darkness of the cramped space.

She followed the pulsating light, stopping only when her eyes landed on a small, metallic object. It had a thin silver cage protecting what looked like a gem or rock of some kind. Nothing too crazy, aside from the whole glowing thing. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she crouched down to get a better view. 

She had absolutely no idea what it was, and she’d seen a lot of weird things in her dads workshop. The only thing she could compare it to was some of the alien technology that’d been leftover from the Battle of New York. She’d run a few stories about that herself, plus saw her dad tinkering with some things since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Figuring she could show it to him at the very least, she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand and grabbed it. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder and quickly unzipped it before sliding the object inside. 

Just then, the sound of screeching metal filled her ears at a deafening volume. She managed to close her bag before covering her ears and ducking against the brick alley wall. The crowd still surrounding the area screamed in horror.

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird-man landed on the rooftop just a few feet away from her crouched form. It was the closest she’d been to the masked—villain? She wasn’t sure—and he was far more intimidating than she’d first assumed.

His glowing beady green eyes didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he slung Spider-Man over the edge of the building, the tip of one of his wings wrapped around his throat.

An involuntary gasp tore through her chest.

It wasn’t that she was worried about the hero. For one, she knew he was more than capable of fending for himself. It wasn’t even that she cared if he got hurt. He was mostly an annoyance to her, his illusive nature making her job way harder than usual.

But if she knew one thing in this moment, it was that the bird-man was the bad guy, and she couldn’t let him win.

So, she did something really stupid.

She found the closest thing that she thought might actually do any kind of damage—which was, unfortunately, an old bike helmet next to the dumpster—and chucked it at the pair.

It hit one of the metal wings with a pathetic clink and all three of them froze.

Y/N held her breath as the man’s head turned in her direction slowly. Way too slowly. Like ‘I’m going to really enjoy killing you’ slowly.

After that, everything happened impossibly fast.

“Hey! Watch out!” 

She barely had time to recognize the panicked voice before she was flying. Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t even scream, overcome with sudden vertigo. She pinched her eyes shut the second she saw the top of a building and clutched onto whatever was carrying her away. 

If it was the weird bird guy, she accepted whatever evil plan he had. But, if it was Spider-Man, she was going to kill him.

It must’ve only been seconds before her feet touched solid ground, but it felt like an eternity to her. The moment she felt the stability beneath her, she began fighting against her captor.

“Let me go! Oh my god. If you don’t put me down right now—”

“What the hell—ow!”

Once she was free, she staggered away from him with a huff. She cleared the hair out of her eyes and bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding wildly and her stomach was still doing summer-salts.

She raised her eyes to send a withering glare toward the masked man. “Never do that shit again.”

He stared at her—at least she assumed—for a long moment before taking a step forward.

“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” He gestured wildly with his hands, clearly agitated.

“That’s one way to thank me for saving your life.” Y/N ground out, sounding way more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“Saving my—” The eyes on his mask narrowed incredulously. “You did not save my life. All you did was distract me and put like ten other people in danger.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Please. Spare me the morality speech, Spider-Man. We both know you don’t bother worrying about people like me.”

Y/N was all too familiar with how superheroes think. When they’re in the middle of a fight, all they care about is winning. They usually have a bigger mission to accomplish. One that doesn’t concern itself with the lives left behind.

“People like you are all I worry about, trust me.”

With that harsh declaration, a heavy silence fell between them. Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, biting her tongue to prevent the floodgates from opening. Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who deserved her hostility toward superheroes, he just happened to be the one in front of her now.

Instead of speaking her mind, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. At this point, it was late. The sun had set and her dad surely knew she wasn’t home when she promised. She had to accept that today just wasn’t her day and head back for some damage control.

Peter, feeling his chest tighten with regret for the way he’d snapped, followed closely behind her quick steps.

“Wait!” She actually stopped, something he wasn’t expecting, so he rammed right into her back. His hands quickly wrapped around her biceps as she spun around. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I, uh...”

He didn’t know what to say. This was the second time in one night he’d run into her, but he was still dumbstruck. The circumstances weren’t ideal. He thought he’d lost her earlier, but then she had to go and put herself in danger.

He took a step away from her, dropping his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. He had to remind himself that she had no idea who he was. Even if he did embarrass himself—like he usually did around her—she wouldn’t know it was him when they saw each other in the halls come Monday.

“At least let me get you home.” He insisted, feeling bad that he’d indirectly kept her out so late.

Y/N pursed her lips, immediately wanting to accept his offer but trying not to give too much away. Truthfully, she was exhausted. She just wanted to get home and deal with the fallout disobeying her curfew would bring so she could get some sleep.

“Alright.” She sighed, pulling anxiously at the straps of her bag. She knew this meant she’d have to swing through the streets again, something she wasn’t nearly ready to do.

Nevertheless, she allowed Spider-Man to walk toward her. She averted her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her back and tried not to let her breath catch when his gloved fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Warmth enveloped her as his proximity settled in. Under his mask, Peter’s face was burning. This was by far the closest he’d been to his classmate. Or any girl, actually. Not wanting to think about it for a second longer, he shot a web toward a nearby building and followed the directions Y/N yelled out.

Within minutes, they landed on the helipad outside her front door.

Peter felt his stomach drop with realization once he let his eyes wander around the outside of the huge building.

“Oh my god. Is this seriously where you live?” He cleared his throat after squeaking out the question, not necessarily wanting to give away his shock.

“What?” Y/N scoffed teasingly. “Don’t I look like a spoiled rich girl?”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, honestly. There were endless questions flitting through us mind at warp speed.

If she lived here, at the Avengers Tower, did that mean she was one of them? And he just hadn’t met her yet? Or did she work for Mr. Stark? But she was so young. He guessed she could be an assistant or something. Maybe she worked for Pepper? Or Happy? Or, she could—

Y/N rolled her eyes, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of sputtering any more. “My dad is famous...like helped form the Avengers famous.”

Peter’s mind went blank. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Cap?” It was the first name to spill out of his mouth. “Wait, can he even have kids?”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his assumption. “He totally can, but no.”

“Oh.” The gears of his brain started turning again and realization slowly dawned on him. He felt his throat run dry as his eyes widened behind his mask. “Oh.”

Shit. This was way worse. He couldn’t believe he had no idea who she really was. Sure, she used a different last name at school, but he should’ve seen the resemblance sooner.

“Look, I know you two have worked together.” Y/N sighed, thinking back to all those weeks her dad was gone fighting Steve and the rest of his friends for no real reason. “Can you just...not tell him about this?”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn’t she want Mr. Stark knowing that she’d been with him?

Either way, he agreed, since he had a favor to ask of his own. “Only if you won’t.”

She gave him this dumbfounded look, and he knew he had to elaborate.

“He made me this suit before the whole thing with Captain America, so I thought he would keep giving me missions, but now it’s been months and he won’t return my calls. I’m lucky if I get through to Happy. He doesn’t want me getting involved in this stuff, so...”

It struck Y/N then how weird it was to hear a superhero talk about her family so casually. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them were in the same circles. Sure, she’d practically grown up with a few of the world’s most famous heroes, but somehow Spider-Man was different.

He was local. And elusive. A pure mystery to her.

“What exactly is this stuff?” She thought back to the weird glowing object in her bag, having almost forgotten it was there.

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head, seemingly defeated. “I thought it was just neighborhood stuff, but those guns...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alien tech.” Y/N said without hesitation, although she wasn’t actually positive that’s what it was. “My dad has some in his workshop. It was leftover from the Battle of New York.”

“How does it work?” Peter found himself asking excitedly, easily pushing all the other revelations from this conversation to the back of his mind.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, looking away from him as her chest tightened with emotion. “I’ve never gotten close enough to any of it to see. He likes to keep me out of things too...”

It was at that moment, as a breath of silence settled between them, that they realized she was still in his arms. Y/N’s face erupted with heat and she quickly pushed herself away from him. Once her feet were back on the ground, they both stepped backward to create some much needed distance.

“I, ah...better get back...”

“Yeah, yeah. I have to go too...”

They looked at each other for a few long moments. It was at if neither of them truly wanted to separate, but knew they had to. It was clear, though, that they’d just formed some kind of connection.

Y/N felt something strange—and wildly inappropriate—brewing in her chest. A certain kind of attraction toward the masked hero she’d never considered before. It appalled her, honestly. It wasn’t like she hated the guy, but she certainly didn’t like him. And she had no idea who he was. He could be eight years old, for all she knew.

With that realization, she turned on her heel and stalked down the narrow entrance to the Avengers Tower, her face still burning. She heard the thwip of Spider-Man’s webbing and knew he’d be gone if she looked back. So she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the touchpad outside the front door and quickly slipped inside once it recognized her prints. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back against the door, the comfort of home enveloping her.

The peace was short lived, however, as she caught sight of her mother waiting expectantly behind the bar to her left. With a glass of red wine in hand, her knowing gaze shifted from the helipad outside to Y/N’s stiff frame.

She took a slow sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of the glass.

“You’re so grounded.”

———————————————————————

let me know what you think!! should I continue this series??

[kookiepredictions]

Jungkook Energy Reading

Jungkook is at a major crossroad of his life. Here, he has a choice to make between 2 roads that will potentially lead him to 2 completely different lives. The choices are to either stay the course that he has been following until now, or to level up to a new, challenging but highly rewarding stage. This is a very fun and interesting topic to discuss so I will take my time with this.

To give you a context, Jungkook is a very highly intuitive person since, like, forever. Ever wondered why (or how) out of... (was it 7?)... so many company offers he chose to be with a small company for a reason that might seem like a whim? Ever wondered why his social media posts gain so much traction? Why he trends so often? If you’ve felt like Jungkook is one of those people who just “gets it” that’s because of his natural intuitive abilities. At the cost of being hated on, I’ll say this: he’s not the best singer in the world. Yet, he makes magic with his voice every time. He is an average dancer. Yet, he commands the stage and holds attention like nobody’s business. That’s because Jungkook has always worked with energy without knowing that he did. That’s why a lot of his achievements seem almost effortless. Yes, he works really hard for everything, but so do a lot of other people. Jungkook has this innate quality of (almost) always making the right choices, being at the right place at the right time that, combined with his ability to work hard, creates these massive outcomes. He’s a super powerful clairsentient and although I’m not sure if he consciously he uses his gifts, subconsciously it has often rewarded him, and so far he hasn’t had to really think about it too much, because it’s a naturally-occurring habit for him. But now he has reached a threshold where he has to contemplate things. Needless to say, it’s outside his comfort zone and is making him VERY stressed. He’s at a juncture where he feels this strong pull towards a direction but is afraid to go there because it’s out of his comfort zone and as is the case with that, he is plagued with doubts, confusion, opposing logics, etc— all of which is keeping him stuck and stagnant like a deer caught in headlights.

What is the problem with staying in his comfort zone, you might ask, I mean it has worked for him so far. Generally speaking, there’s no problem. There is never a problem in this world nor is there any good or bad. It all depends on how we see things. That’s why one person’s curse turns out to be another’s blessing, and one’s trash another’s treasure. The problem here is that, Jungkook has done the unthinkable— he has started to have dreams and desires (lol sorry not sorry I like to be dramatic). For a while (maybe a year or so?) Jungkook has been in this place (mentally and emotionally) where he has been rethinking and reinventing his goals, plans etc for his future. He has lived quite a while with a certain idea of how his life is going to go and worked with that vision. But it was getting tiring and draining in a way he didn’t quite understand why, followed by something impactful that happened in his life— has made him question everything. He has been proverbially studying himself in the mirror and rediscovering his true self. This is literally changing everything about his life. His wants are changing, the things that make him happy (or sad) are changing, and he has been think A LOT about how he wants his life to look like from here on. He’s trying to manifest a life that he thinks will not just give him the usual, practical material comforts of life, but also make him happy and fulfilled from a soul-deep space. And as is the case with manifestations, the first thing you gotta do is make sure your mindset is aligned with what you’re desiring. This is where Jungkook is at right now. He knows what he wants, he is willing to put in the work that it takes, and has also been making plans and taking action... but wait a second. Just when he thought that it is time for him to reap the rewards of his actions, things seem to be going south for him. He is facing problems and obstacles in nearly all areas of his life, and this has him utterly confused because he thinks he has done everything right and yet, why is he not seeing results materialize yet? He’s growing tired of this journey and it’s even more confusing because on the one hand, he still feels like he has hope and that there’s a high possibility that things will go his way, yet on the other hand, what IS happening in reality is quite the opposite. He feels like he’s being pulled in 2 opposite directions and both have equally strong reasons to go towards. This is what is known as “the crossroads”.

The reason he is not seeing results is like I said, manifestations are ALL about the mindset. Point blank period. If you hold a pendulum suspending by the string, and just THINK about moving it without moving your hand at all, it starts moving. This is how pendulum readings work. This is a small yet telling exercise to show how our mindset literally controls all our actions. So without the right mindset, actions mean nothing because those actions are coming from a mindset that is not aligned with what you want to manifest. This is what is happening with Jungkook. He is making his plans and taking action, like he has been trying to have a healthy routine, eat clean, exercise, practice his skills, etc but he is doing all of this from an outdated mindset. It’s like building a house of cards over a slanted surface. No matter how carefully you stack the cards, they come crashing down because the foundation is not right. His plans are great, his efforts are sincere, but are based on a very limited mindset. He thinks, well I’ll do this and this and then I’ll do that and that and then... but something goes wrong, some plans backfire, some work related problems come up, financial setbacks happen, and he is back to square one again. Then he feels unmotivated and goes into depressive episodes and eventually picks himself up and tries again but the whole thing happens again. He is now tired and feels he has no fights left and also feels it’s all useless because the Universe seems to be working against him. But that’s not the case. The Universe is simply telling him that no matter how hard he tries (because that’s kinda Jungkook’s mindset right now: if it didn’t work, try harder and harder next time), nothing will come to fruition if the mindset at the base of it all changes. And the same cycle will continue.

This crossroad is an opportunity for him to level up, not at the action point, but at the mindset point. He has to switch from the “work hard, struggle, chase” mindset to the “attract effortlessly” mindset. Now, this is not something new for Jungkook. Like I said, he is a natural intuitive and has actually attracted most of the things in his life quite effortlessly if you consider the fact that he has achieved more at 23 than most people have in their entire lives. The “struggle” is showing up because it is a crossroad. So no matter how competent, accomplished, or karmically good or bad you consider yourself to be, everyone struggles at some point or the other, when it is time to level up. I mentioned earlier that he is a Clairsentient and his comfort zone is to live his life according to his feelings without giving much thought to them and for a very long time, it’s worked out just fine. But now it is time for him to step into the role of a Claircognizant and to give a voice to his feelings. The Universe has been pushing this role at him for a while now, which has manifested in his life into a lot of overthinking, which is the shadow side of claircognizance. It entails a very active mind so at the beginning stages of honing this skill, you tend to struggle with overthinking and your mind sort of being all over the place. Think of your mind as an out-of-control river which floods everything around, but when you train your mind, and make it follow a course, it becomes life-saving. Because in the raw form, any spiritual gift comes with a lot of sharp ends, Jungkook is resisting this gift. He is stressed from all the overthinking and feels lost and out of control. So he tends to go back to his comfort zone and work from his old mindset and keeps facing obstacles. Now you might think, wow, being a Clairsentient is no joke either, so why bother about being a Claircognizant? Like leave the boy alone jeez. But like I always say, the Universe gives us all free will. There is no forcing him. He has made this choice when he started asking for this new, improved, happier life. This is something he is trying to manifest and to do that, he needs to have the right resources. At this point in his life, even being a Clairsentient (which is still awesome) is a limiting existence for him. Jungkook is an old soul. It might be interesting for you to know that he is the oldest soul in all of BTS and he is an older soul than his parents and brother as well! However, his old soul combined with a young mind and the fact that he is the youngest person in both his family and his BTS family, wreaks havoc within him. He often finds himself in situations where he feels deeply and profoundly but cannot express the depth of his feelings externally. This manifests as a throat chakra blockage even though he has a very strong and developed throat chakra (the reason why he is so expressive when he sings and is very facially expressive when dancing and just generally very expressive when he creates social media content from a fun, good mood space). Like I said, it’s a limit. So far it wasn’t as necessary to address this. But as he ages and his life progresses, he misses this skill set. He thinks it’s about his vocabulary, but it really is just about putting a voice to his inner feelings. He could feel it strongly inside when something is right or wrong, but he can rarely tell you why. He’s a good judge but he’s a terrible lawyer lol. And it’s not even telling or convincing others, it’s about telling yourself— KNOWING what you feel and why. Now, in this whole period of dilemma, he is starting to doubt his old gifts as well. He is starting to doubt his feelings and the ability to tell the right from wrong through his feelings— because that’s what energetic stagnation feels like; it feels like degeneration of everything that is, unless you decide to build something new upon the decaying old.

This jump from Clairsentience to Claircognizance can also be likened to the jump from the 3rd eye chakra to the Crown Chakra. And I don’t mean chakras in the sense that exist and govern various activities in our bodies. I mean it in the sense of the journey of consciousness of the various aspects of our existence, from the Root to the Crown. A renowned spiritual teacher had once said that the journey from the Root to the 3rd Eye Chakra has paths and procedures, but the journey from the 3rd Eye to the Crown Chakra has no path, no process, no formula. It is based on faith and faith alone. It’s a blind jump off the cliff, “knowing” that you are safe. Up until the 3rd Eye, you might be connected, but you are still operating within limits, all of which are of course self-imposed. Jungkook is at this point where he is asked by the Universe to step into his limitlessness. I have discussed in his career reading that he is meant to do some really huge things in his lifetime, which is crazy considering he already has done pretty epic things. The phrase “chosen one” always comes to mind when I talk about Jungkook, but I’d like to clarify this phrase first. We generally tend to see this term as something that sets one apart from others, as if they are special and privileged. But know that the Divine never differentiates. Each and every human has been created exactly the same in terms of capabilities. So it all comes down to free will and personal choice of which path each of us chooses. The thing to know about Jungkook is that he is one of the most sincere people on earth— actually as far as I’ve observed THE most sincere. And before Armys comes for me, yes, all of BTS are sincere. But spiritually speaking, Jungkook is still more sincere not just compared to the rest of the members but the general collective as well. He is, at his core, a very purpose-driven person. He is the least matrix-controlled, for those who know these concepts. He can’t do things just for the sake of it. It’s important for him to have meaning and purpose behind everything he does. Sadly though, he has spent the past few years doing exactly the opposite. He has been stuck in a cycle of activities that don’t bring joy to his soul and this has been sucking the life force out of him and he has been feeling more and more drained and has developed escapist tendencies. But it’s not that he has been externally forced to do these things, at least not always. It’s more so a result of lack of consciousness on his part. He didn’t know he was doing these things. He did what he did believing that he was doing the right thing— earning money, paying bills, securing a materially comfortable life— you know, all of the matrix stuff. But like I said, he does not easily fit into the matrix. While a lot of people spend their entire lifetimes plugged into the matrix, Jungkook is the type to sense discomfort very quickly and want to escape. The reason being, as I said earlier, he is an old soul and has lived many lifetimes developing awareness and his spiritual growth. This is why in this lifetime, he is naturally a lot more evolved than most (or all) of the collective. But since we do not remember our past lives and only carry that “growth” in our DNA, it’s something that is inherent to him without him actually knowing about it— until recently. Jungkook has been undergoing his spiritual awakening, and has been developing consciousness bit by bit— breaking out of the matrix so to speak. It’s this reason that he is “chosen” to do what he is about to do. Not because he has been unfairly selected out of many others, but because he has made this choice for himself and been working sincerely over many lifetimes. For this reason, Jungkook tends to have very pure emotions, and by pure I don’t mean non-sexual (because there’s nothing impure about sexual feelings). By pure I mean raw, unadulterated. He has very heightened sensibilities and feels every emotion to their purest essence, gifting him with high Emotional Intelligence. Unfortunately, this is not always a good thing because uncontrolled, he often tends to overwhelm himself with his mixed bag of feelings and this also causes the aforementioned escapism tendencies. And this is one more reason why he should level up. Regulating and organizing his myriad emotions and giving them a shape, a course will help him channel these gifts into fulfilling his dreams and creating big things in life. There are many things he can do, like journaling, writing down his dreams, goals, plans and procedure on paper, create routines based on his goals, etc but I feel like he is past this stage and is probably stuck in the part where he is doing everything and sometimes he has his wins but these wins are not becoming stable, and he is still getting his tower moments from time to time. This should mean one thing— he has reached the last stage of this journey, which like I said, is the journey to the Crown Chakra— the state of complete faith.

When discussing the concept of complete faith, we often use terms like blind faith, unquestioning faith, etc and while these terms are not exactly wrong per se, they can create misunderstandings. The Divine has blessed us with the ability to think, question and judge, not for nothing. Is it possible to have blind faith? Of course, lots of people do. But it’s also POTENTIALLY harmful to have faith in anything without actually having a knowhow of it. It’s not necessary of course, but for those who reach that level of consciousness, it is not just important, but absolutely essential to know the ins and outs and still have faith. I say it is more difficult to have complete faith with your eyes open than to have blind faith. Claircognizance at its best, is just that. While so far, your gut feeling has served you well and led you this close to the Divine, it is now time to employ your mind to catch up with your gut feeling and make sense of it all. While you learnt to open your eyes to the truth up until now, it is time to learn to keep your eyes open without blinking again and defend and embody the truth with your whole existence. This is literally the riskiest gamble. Like I said, jumping off the cliff. And that’s what Jungkook is being asked to do. So far he has been getting clarity about himself, his life and his path forward and treading cautiously with his small efforts and small wins, it is time for him to take the big leap forward. But the question of course is, how? And to where? While the details of this answer are with Jungkook, it has to start with releasing his limiting mindset. Have you ever noticed that whenever we have limited beliefs about something, either money or love or peace, the underlying belief is always that “I am limited”, “I have limited abilities”, “I have limited resources” etc. Meaning, any limits that we place on our external lives are actually limits that we think WE have. Money exists in this world, but I think I am limited in my potential to earn money. Love exists in this world, but I think I am limited in my potential to find love. You get the point. We actually do not think resources are limited, we think they are limited for us. Sometimes “us” means me as an individual, sometimes it means us as the entire population (cue: global warming, world peace, etc). Jungkook right now, is in the prime position to step out of this limited mindset into his unlimited potential. He has been operating from his limited mindset which is why his plans, no matter how well made, are failing. He has these big, beautiful dreams and has created this beautiful, peaceful life in his mind, but his old mindset is not aligned with this abundant life. The Universe has been nudging him in the direction of the mindset that he needs to adopt to align with his manifestations. I have written earlier somewhere that Jungkook thinks quite poorly of himself as a person and has self worth issues. In reality, he is the most sincere person Mother Earth has right now who has been working so hard for so long to reach this level of consciousness, it is safe to say no one else is as worthy as him to get everything that we wants. But by having these beliefs about himself, he is blocking the rewards that are meant to come to him. It’s like he has paid the price in advance, but is not accepting the delivery. Both because of being BTS’ golden youngest, Korea’s national pride, all the sweeping predictions about his future, and also his inner voice speaking to him, he is almost too aware of the great big things he is supposed to achieve, and although he does want them, a part of him is also scared and wants to run and hide and settle for something far less aka stay put in his comfort zone— all because of his limited mindset where he thinks he is not worthy of such things. And if you think you’re not worthy, obviously you’re going to think that it’s going to be an impossible task, which eventually either makes you take all the wrong actions, or not take action at all. This is why, no matter what his goals and plans, and no matter what actions he thinks of taking, he has to start with his mindset first. In fact, while manifesting, if I can tell you to do just one thing, it is to address the limits in your mindset. We’ve heard this many times and it sounds so simple but it really is the most, if not only, important step that matters. If the mindset is aligned with your goal, all actions will effortlessly flow towards that goal.

I feel like Jungkook has reached a level of self awareness and inner self dialogue where he is able to identify where his thoughts and emotions are going. He has definitely gotten a far better grip on his emotions than when I started this page, and contrary to what he thinks, his growth has been swift. It’s just that, we always expect a linear growth but that doesn’t happen with spirituality. And so every time he has a down time, he feels like he is back to square one. More so because Jungkook has such a perfectionistic and high achiever mentality. The reason why he seems to be going in a loop right now is because he has learnt and achieved everything that he has to with his current “limited” mindset. Hi future goals require him to grow out of that, not because his goals are something huge and difficult to achieve (because literally small and big are subjective both to humans and to the Universe) but because having a limitless mindset simply means to believe that I am worthy of achieving anything and everything I desire— without conditions. This is the mindset that Jungkook needs to work on adopting right now and everything else will smoothly flow from there. He needs to utilize the power of his mind— awareness, reasoning and self dialogue— to identify wherever he limits himself from believing his worthiness to achieve what he wants to have, and continue this practice until this new “I can f***ing have anything that I want” mindset is his default. Does it worry you that Jungkook will become an egotistical prick after that? Don’t worry, his soul has done enough work in the past to be grounded and humble through it all. This mindset is different from the ego-driven power-hungry mindset. Why? Because this power is the Source power. When we settle into our Crown Chakra consciousness aka Divine consciousness, we plug ourselves into the Source’s limitless creative power. The difference between ego-driven power and Source power is that while the former separates the individual from others, Source power recognizes the individual’s power as connected to and drawing from the Cosmos and therefore one we must give back to. It’s this constant cycle of giving and receiving in the Universe that makes Source power limitless, while the ego’s idea of power is one-sided and therefore finite.

Jungkook is kind of stuck in a place where, because he sees himself as limited, he looks to others to guide him, assure him, and provide him with the knowledge and direction that he needs. And that is because he has been disconnected from Source— not literally, but consciousness-wise. So far it wasn’t too bad, but now it is time for him to let go of the need for mediators and plug himself directly to the Source, i.e. work on his Crown Chakra. And as I mentioned earlier, it is as simple as just using your conscious mind to tell yourself, or more accurately, remind yourself, of your worth and your limitlessness. Jungkook feels like he needs someone to guide him, but he has forgotten that he has been prepared for the exact same task that he looks to another to do. Now this has a connection to his Twin Flame journey because his twin is at the same threshold, ready to level up to the same stage. The only slight difference is that she has already made her choice to level up to the new stage of limitless consciousness. And now it is up to Jungkook to make his. Do you what that means? It means a Union is on the horizon! After a long period of back and forth— one of them goes through a stage first then the other follows, and vice versa— they are finally going to be on the same page energetically, if Jungkook makes the choice. This is significant because Jungkook has been thinking that Union was something that was out of his control and he had nothing to do but to sit and wait, but all the while, it was a choice he had to make. Now, of course, this choice is not as simple as saying Yes or No. It’s a choice of consciousness— a consistent way of life that will, over time, upgrade and align their mindsets so they are both at the exact same stage. As twinflames, Jungkook and his DF are like the same person living in 2 different, alternate universes, with completely different lifestyles, work situations and challenges and the way they process these situations and challenges are similar, but not on the same page at the same time. They are soully same, yet because of their mortal forms being born and being raised in different environments, their ego-bodies have retained conditioning that make them different from each other in many ways, but as they shed their ego programming and connect more and more with their soul and with Source, they will be on the exact same page. This is when Union will occur. When they truly become one person in heart and mind. But this stage right now (i.e. before Union) is also the most challenging because this is where Separation truly happens. Physical separation is the least important aspect of the TF separation. This is where they are both on their own. They must individually find their faith aka go back to the Source, because without their connection to the Source, there is no TF connection; it becomes just another earthly connection riddled with alternating bouts of joy and sorrow, peace and pain. Usually in this journey, one twin is a more advanced journeyer than the other, who first “activates” the other i.e. leads them to their consciousness and guides them, usually energetically where when one twin crosses a stage, the other is literally pulled into that stage for them to cross. It’s like only one twin gets to make the choice and the other has no choice but to follow suit. This is also the reason why one twin feels more helpless and out of control. They are literally being yanked around by their twin’s energetic choices lol. But at this juncture, the guide twin has to leave the other twin’s hand, not because they don’t want to hold on, but because they can’t— they have nothing more to offer. This is where both twins get to make their choices individually. This stage is new for both of them and therefore they must individually cross this stage and meet at the other side. This is the period of ultimate spiritual growth, the after effect of which is blissful togetherness. But possible only if both twins make their choice to move forward.

 I’ll end this post with a message from Jungkook’s DF:

 Jeongguk,

I hope you’re holding up okay, partner, cuz I know I’m getting my ass kicked. Did you absolutely hate this journey? Because I didn’t. Just like you, I didn’t know what I signed up for either. I made a simple wish and this road has been bumpy but it has also had the most incredible views along the way. The way I have grown over these recent times compared to my whole entire life is crazy! I love who I have become and who I continue to become. And I believe you had a part to play in this. I know you don’t believe that so much. I know you battle with your own doubts, fears and insecurities, just like I battle with mine. You still measure your importance with how much you do for others. But maybe someday I can tell you how much you have done for me simply my existing as who you are. Because who you are will determine what you will always do, not just once or twice. And you have grown so much too! I have sensed that often. But unless we learn to recognize our growth, we don’t see it. But since I had VIP seating lol I got to watch you grow. Sometimes you resisted, sometimes you fought, sometimes you hoped, sometimes you held on to the faith when I was ready to give up, sometimes you were hurtful and challenged me to find within myself new depths of love and understanding. You made me cry, you made me laugh, you made me angry, you made me blush. But you never left. And I didn’t leave either. We tried though. Both of us. And failed. Repeatedly. It’s been frustrating and funny. How we thought we could get away and the Divine kept guiding us back to each other. You know, I think the problem is that we’re both helplessly curious idiots. Always wanting to know more, always wanting to move ahead. Obstacles never had a chance with us. We were always the introspective types, you and I, always looking to solve our problems, hungry for growth. As they say, careful what you wish for.

I am aware of your expectations of me, always was. But I had to hold back. I couldn’t do anything that I wasn’t fully ready to do. Right or wrong, I had to do as I felt guided to do— it’s my sovereign right. I guess because deep down I knew that you would understand. Of all people, you would understand. And I was right, you did. You threw hands and made a mess often lol but you still did understand and patiently stuck around each time. I know it seems like I’ve been running further and further away from you, but I have actually been getting closer to you. Spiritually. I guess soon it’s going to be visible as well. Now there is this stage. It feels like a strange place to be in right now. Good strange. I know you are scared and doubtful and expect me to assure you that everything will be alright. How can I? I am scared and doubtful too. Every day, I am in these juxtaposed energies of faith and doubt, sorting through them like... one moment I am super believing, another moment I’m all nope can’t do.

I know you want me to say that I love you and that I always will, and to promise that if we take this journey, I will be there waiting for you. And I want to. I really REALLY want to make these promises to you. But in the past I have been in situations where these promises were made and then conveniently forgotten later. I’m trying not to let my past control my present or future but I have also learnt that words can be forgotten, but intentions are forever. And that is what I want to say to you: I have the intention. I intend to make this work. When the time is right, I intend to give this my best shot. Tbh, I feel like I have been giving this my best shot for a while now, but maybe we don’t agree on that lol. And I also want to tell you that I’ve never felt about anyone else what I feel about you and I don’t think anyone else can ever take your place in my life. What that means exactly I don’t know yet.

The reason why I tell you neither what to do nor what not to do is because I don’t want to control your life. I know you me to show some ownership on you, and you on me, but believe me, you’ll hate it there. I’ve been there suffocating and it’s the most beautiful feeling to make your own mistakes, learn your own lessons, and watch yourself become your own artwork masterpiece and I don’t want to take away that experience from you. This is not my apathy. This is my gift to you. Also, yes I’m a pretty generous and just generally amazing person lol but do you really think I write pages after pages for just anyone and for no reason? Put two and two together silly.

You doubt your worth so much and since I do that too, I know how that works and won’t hold that against you, but it seems like now you have no choice but to see your worth. You must know, that I’m leaving you alone only because I’m confident you’ll find your own way. I’ll admit, I haven’t always been confident in you. Maybe I will falter again. But don’t you see, that’s the point? I will never be fully confident in you until you are confident in yourself. The more you doubt, the more I doubt too. But I’ve been observing you for a long time now and it’s just so hard to not trust you. Even with all the doubts and apprehensions constantly attacking me from all directions, I keep going back to you. I really hope my gut feeling about you is right or I’ve just made a big booboo lol. The funny thing is, I don’t care as much now. It’s almost like, fine, if anything, this will go down in my history as a wonderful, fun mistake and I don’t think I will ever regret it because in this moment I’m doing what I want to do— either it leads to a reward or a lesson, both are welcome. I have never been THIS vulnerable in my life like I hear myself say these things and I sound so crazy and stupid lol I’m so not my sassy and smartassy self right now.

As I was saying, I really do believe you’ll find your way. I don’t even know what that way is, or what your problems are, but I know you will solve them all. I’ll just be here, solving mine. How do I know for sure we can solve all problems? Because each one of the 7 billion people can. The only reason they don’t is that they don’t have a strong enough reason to push themselves to do that. Do we have a strong enough reason? How much do our dreams mean to us? For me, I have had this picture painted of this perfect life for a while. And yes, it has you in it. Very prominently. In my mind, it’s this beautifully balanced, harmonious, vibrant relationship with a forever after. And I don’t want to ruin that picture for short term hedonism. So I really believe, if our reason is strong enough, if this means that much to us, no obstacle can limit us from getting what we want. You’re not the only one who goes after what he wants and never gives up. I’m somewhat of that breed too. It’s just that this has clearly been a journey and it has brought some wild surprises along the way. I’ve struggled but now I’m learning to accept anything that comes with it. If the road leads me to my destination I don’t care how bumpy it is. It’s literally up to you right now. And I promise, it’s not even that difficult when you let go of resistance. All you have to do is consistently believe that you have limitless power to achieve anything you want and to create your reality the way you want it. I know it’s been a struggle and it feels like just the opposite, but it’s been that way because believe it or not, YOU have had these limiting beliefs about yourself and what you can create. I also know it’s been a long road and you’re tired, but it’s safe to drop the defences now. You might feel like certain situations or certain people are out of your control and how could you ever have things work your way, but it’s all in the mindset. The moment you reset your mindset and stick with it, you will see your reality change. In any situation, do not focus on the external events— they are simply the results of your previous mindset. Rather, ask yourself, what limiting thoughts and beliefs you have in your mindset right now and proceed to change them. I promise to you, people and situations will change to suit your needs, without ever having to deal with anyone. All this WILL happen, so don’t give up until they do. Twinflame, soulmate, karmic, friends, partners, colleagues— everyone will adjust according to your needs when YOU step into your limitlessness. Remember, it’s not just you who are tied to your karmics, they are tied to you too. An attachment exists from both sides. You don’t have to worry over the other person severing the tie, it’s enough if you let go of your end. Ask yourself, what are the common energies I share with my karmic? Identify these energies, heal the underlying trauma and ascend from them. This automatically ends your karmic contract and your karmic is free from you as well, no matter what their status is. The reason your karmics exist is because deep in your mindset you still believe that that’s your place and that’s what you’re worthy of— it’s part of the comfort zone you’re still stuck in.

I wish you well, my favorite human, I really hope I find you at the end of this journey. I want everything that you want. There are so many shared dreams and goals that we have— I will tell you all about my dreams one day. Until then I need to live some of these on my own, go on a little solo adventure, while I let you go on yours. And when it’s over and we’re ready (and no we’re not ready right now no matter how much you try to convince me lol) I promise I will see you again. When and how, I have no idea, but I’m happy to leave that to however the Divine guides us. I promise I’ll never forget you because I literally can’t. Love you!

[theonceandfutureking6481]

BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 6: A Remedy to Cure All Ills Analysis

Spoilers for the show

This episode is interestingly about Gaius, it is his arc we see here, not Merlin's or Arthur's and so this is a very interesting episode to watch because it is a vision of the world of Uther, and a vision of Gaius' own flaws. It is a world Merlin and Arthur will one day change and redeem, but as of yet this is a story more about the past then the present.

Gaius

This is something I believe I will come back to later, I'm pretty sure there's another episode later on that also addresses this idea and that is Gaius' deeply flawed nature. We as an audience love Gaius, he's a good character and Merlin loves him like a father, so we can't really help but love him too. But Gaius is flawed in perhaps one of the most dangerous ways, he is not cruel or even a bad person in any real way, but he is a coward. He is the person who in the face of injustice stands by and does nothing. His flaw is in some ways the most understandable, at least for me, its hard to be brave and to oppose power is not easy. Gaius has been a coward and has been complicit in the pain and deaths of so many in his silence, although arguably there wasn't really anything he could of done to stop it. This is revealed most of all in an exchange he has with Kilgharrah (though the 'blind eye' is also mentioned with Edwin).

Gaius: I will not choose between them (Uther and Merlin)

Kilgharrah: Then turn a blind eye. That is, after all, your talent

This is one of the first times we've seen Kilgharrah openly express emotion aside from telling Merlin about his destiny, its perhaps the first hint that he is more personally invested than he lets on. And its in an interactions with Gaius, and you can hear the disdain in his voice. This dragon has been a mouthpiece for destiny, for everything that's going to happen, he's a mouthpiece for the future and in this you realise that he and Gaius have a past, that there is more darkness in the past then we've previously understood. In this you realise that Gaius has failed to be the person he should've been, he's been a coward, and he has betrayed an entire people in his silence.

Gaius elects to turn a blind eye again by leaving, in some ways he's choosing Merlin but in leaving he's making it so he's not really making that choice, he's leaving whatever will happen in other hands. And Gwen says one of the most powerful lines in the show when he tells her that he has no choice.

"In life we always have a choice sometimes its easier to think that you don't."

Cause we do, Gwen's right. It's dangerous and easy to think that you don't have any choice but one, and everyone in this show makes that mistake at some point. Uther probably thinks that he has no choice but to persecute magic users because they're are evil. Everyone seeking revenge on Uther thinks they have no choice but to do so, and in doing no choice but to let collateral damage happen. Because if you accept that there is a choice then you accept responsibility for your actions, you accept that you are responsible for any damage you cause. You may still make the choice, but you are accepting that it is a choice you choose and the results are one's you have chosen to be acceptable. But I also love Gwen's response when Gaius tells her that he is choosing to leave, its a non-choice and also in Gwen's view its the wrong choice, but she doesn't judge him at all for it. She just says "then I'll miss you." She doesn't expect him to be brave, and she continues to care about him even as he doesn't do the right thing.

There is another note here that will be of more relevance later on. Gaius is and has been a coward, but Merlin is his redemption. Merlin is the redemption for everything Gaius has done (or hasn't done) that has helped facilitate Uther's regime. Obviously in sheltering Merlin, Gaius is already rebelling in a more meaningful way then he has in years but later in the show he will make choices to support Merlin and his destiny that will redeem him, and like so much of the show it is for the love of Merlin that he makes them, emphasising the importance of love once again.

Edwin

In many ways this is an uncomfortable episode for someone who is both not a kid and has already watched the whole show. Out of every villain in the show, Edwin is in some ways set up as the least villainous. He takes no collateral damage, he risks Morgana's life yes but ultimately he gets Gaius fired and tries to kill Uther. He doesn't even try to kill Gaius until the end, his revenge is so proportional, so seemingly justified, he hates Gaius but he doesn't try to kill him. Ultimately the show (in this episode at least) doesn't really address that complexity, they have some last minute making Edwin more evil ( he tells Merlin that they could be all-powerful together, the trying to kill Gaius and Merlin (though that was an under danger from them situation), and his parents having practiced dark magic). This ultimately succeeds, and we can go away happy in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. This works this early in the show, this early on and we are not really sure how to feel about magic, how to feel about the great purge, how to feel about Uther, so we can accept the shows presentations of Merlin protecting Uther with little questions.

Ultimately I'm not opposed to Merlin protecting Uther, but that's largely due to how the show questions it later, because the show does address it. It does address whether or not Uther should be protected when honestly most of those seeking revenge are at least justified in the killing Uther part of their revenge.

But this has not been addressed yet, so we're left with a villain who ultimately did not seem that evil being killed and then Uther being saved.

This is also paired with this episode being perhaps the first one to truly address the horror of the great purge. Edwin's backstory is chilling, the scars on his face are there because he tried to run into the fire to save his parents when they were being burnt at the stake by Uther. There's also this sense of a barely spoken history between all the older characters, Geoffrey and Gaius don't want to remember that time, Kilgharrah reminds Gaius of how he turns a blind eye, and even in Uther and Gaius right at the end.

Uther: Do you remember them, his parents?

Gaius: I remember them all, sire

This happens, even after everything that has happened in the episode, so the episode itself doesn't even entirely erase the confusion regarding Edwin, and we don't really know who was really right. It's also an interesting moment for Uther, a moment where we see his resolve about magic slightly shift, and there is a hint of unacknowledged guilt there.

The fact that immediately after this Uther apologises to Gaius really cements this, Uther rarely admits he's wrong and he only does so when his own sense of his rightness has been questioned. He doesn't admit he was wrong with magic (and he never will), but that feeling perhaps prompts him to be able to admit he was wrong to Gaius.

Why Gaius serves Uther

Now this is a question that's hard to answer, because ultimately Gaius does serve Uther loyally for much of the show, rarely opposing him and it goes somewhat beyond just not being able to do anything else because Uther's the king, and Gaius both can't do anything but also just isn't a very brave person (though that is certainly part of it). We do find out later that Gaius ultimately doesn't think Uther's a bad king, he believes that Uther on the whole is fair to most of his people (except magic users), he's not great but he's better than a lot would be. And you see the hint of that in:

Gaius: You have always done what you believed to be right

Gaius perhaps sees in Uther a king who isn't purely driven by selfishness, a king who does genuinely seek to act in the interests of the people, and I guess that's probably better than most kings.

I also think there's a warning in that, a warning about doing purely what you believe to be right. And by that I mean acting purely in accordance with your own feelings without reference to the possibility of being wrong. Doing what you feel to be right is not always the right choice, and its something Merlin does often consider, not only because consequences are often far beyond what one person can consider, but because you may be wrong. Every person is blinded by their own experiences, Uther's blinded by his anger and hate and he mistakes that for righteousness.

Also, ultimately I might note, Gaius is physician. Most of the time serving Uther does not ask too much of him, he saves lives, he helps people, he doesn't usually have to participate in the bad. However, that doesn't take away from the fact that he still does occasionally, and he is reasonably loyal.

I enjoyed this episode, but its never been one of my favourites and it's hard to go away from this one entirely satisfied that all right ends have been achieved. The show chooses not to fully address the moral complexity at the heart of it yet, and that's fine this is after all a children's show and we are still so early in it but that does mean that in setting up complexity and not going through with it there is a level of dissatisfaction, as we struggle really to know if right really won here.

[robininthelabyrinth]

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5, part 6 - aka Pastime (with good company) (ao3 link)

Warning: some adult content 

-

Everything was settled.

The marriage date had been set – sadly there was still some time to go, since they’d reached that part of the year where there weren’t any auspicious days for marriage for a while, especially for a marriage like this (they were not getting married on a day that was auspicious for childbirth, no matter how much Wei Wuxian cackled at the thought) – and now all that was left was preparing for the ceremony.

The logistics were a pain, but all parties involved had been determined to hold a single ceremony, both to demonstrate that they were both first, neither above the other, and, as Wei Wuxian had grumblingly put it, to make sure no one was satisfied until they were all satisfied.

The negotiations had gone on forever, representatives of each sect bickering back and forth, but finally, finally, Lan Xichen had conspired with Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng behind the scenes and they’d exercised their authority as Sect Leaders to declare the latest version of the marriage plan acceptable.

There was a distinct possibility that they had gotten somewhat intoxicated before making the announcement, but however it had happened, it been made and Lan Wangji was happier for it.

Now, there was only – the wait.

Each of them had agreed that now that the marriage was settled, they would each stay at home to prepare the necessary things for marriage. Technically, only Nie Mingjue needed to pay the bride price, and of course their families would be providing dowries (with lists so long that Lan Wangji grew numb just thinking about it), but they had agreed between the three of them that it would be suitable for them to exchange gifts between themselves.

A sign of their forthcoming affection, but also – and this was Nie Mingjue’s rare insistence on the subject of gifts or etiquette – independence. Nie Mingjue was the husband, of course, and they the brides, and that meant something, even if cultivator sects rarely imposed the sort of requirements on its female cultivators that the common world did, but in his heart Nie Mingjue was a fairly staunch an opponent of unnecessary hierarchy when in peacetime, though whether this was his own inclination or another of the Nie sect’s oddities was less clear. Politically, he was engaged in a fierce fight with the Jin sect, opposed the mere concept of a Chief Cultivator and preferring that the Sects manage themselves as they always had rather than succumb to the order the Wen sect had tried to impose, but his opposition was – as always with the man – genuine, and it was important to him that his brides knew that they were free in their own right, rather than receiving their freedom as a gift from their husband.

(Lan Wangji had thought of their mother when Nie Mingjue had argued the point, his eyes flashing and hand hitting the table to emphasize it, and his heart had overflowed with joy that he was marrying this man above others, this man and Wei Wuxian who did not know rules, both of whom would rather die than cage him; Lan Xichen and even Lan Qiren had been moved by the demand, their eyes suspiciously wet, and Lan Wangji had seen in the way Jiang Cheng rubbed his thumb over Zidian that he, too, was not unaffected.)

Of course, once the principle was agreed upon, they now had to enact it.

Lan Wangji expected that Nie Mingjue would have delegated the initial task of finding gifts for them to Nie Huaisang, reserving the right for a final decision for himself – if it was a Nie sect principle, there might be some element of ritual involved in the unusual gift-giving, some tradition that wouldn’t make sense or be explained until they were safely married in; Qinghe had long had a reputation for being a little bit different from the other sects, and not just in their preference for the saber over the sword.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand – Lan Wangji expected he was equally hard at work. Perhaps others in his sect believed that he would ask Jiang Cheng for one of the Jiang sect’s treasures, diminished by war but recovered in their victories, but Lan Wangji thought he knew Wei Wuxian better than that: most likely, he had just decided to use the time before the marriage to invent something no one in the world has ever seen before, and contribute that instead.

That seemed far more his style.

As for himself, Lan Wangji followed his own sect’s traditions, taking on the new request with the dignity and solemnity with which it ought to be respected. He had already spent several days in the Lan sect’s treasure room, sorting through each item and considering whether it would fit one or another of his spouses. His uncle, not yet fully reconciled with his decision – his general approval of Nie Mingjue wrestling against his general disapproval of Wei Wuxian – had come to see him several times while he was there; he would never disagree with Lan Xichen on such a serious matter as someone’s life, and never publicly, but his love for his nephew and his concern for Lan Wangji’s well-being drove him to probe repeatedly as to whether Lan Wangji really thought that this marriage would make him happy.

Lan Wangji was very sure it would. He’d only liked two people in his entire life and thought them both untouchable, forever beyond his reach – to now be faced with the possibility of having them both was beyond even his wildest dreams.

…perhaps not his wildest dreams. He’d been having some very interesting ones recently.

At any rate, it was a wise decision on their part to separate, and to stay separate. After all, they would have their whole lives to spend together – it was better to take this precious time before their marriage to reflect on their families, their past, the events and circumstances that had led them to this moment…

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian called, his eyes bright with excitement as he waved and ran forward to greet him. “What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you – what brings you to Yiling?”

Absolutely nothing, in truth.  

There was no reason at all for Lan Wangji to be in Yiling.

He should not be in Yiling: he thought of himself as the patient one of the three of them, suffused with Lan serenity and self-denial, having cultivated long ago the ability to wait forever for what he wanted – none of Wei Wuxian’s impulsiveness or Nie Mingjue’s hot-headedness for him. And yet, of the three of them, Lan Wangji was the one who weakened first.

It was only that he had woken up in the dead of night, alone in the jingshi and abruptly convinced that it was all a dream that had lingered too long, that it would disappear with the morning dew, and he had suddenly needed, urgently, to see one of his future husbands, to confirm to himself once again that this was really happening. And before he knew what he was doing, he had taken Bichen and turned his face to the sky, fleeing to Yiling as the closer and least-bad option –  

At least Wei Wuxian seemed to feel the same way, to judge by the way he insisted on dragging Lan Wangji to and fro throughout the Burial Mounds, reintroducing him to all the Wen sect members that he’d already met on his first visit; only things time, Wei Wuxian would stop to speak to each one with a smile, explaining the situation – just now he had greeted a man with a wave and shouted, “Fourth Uncle, this is Hanguang-jun, Lan Wangji. We’re going to be marrying soon, to Chifeng-zun – all of us together, me, Lan Zhan, and Nie Mingjue.”

“Yes, we know,” the man said, looking indulgent. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

To judge from his expression, it was more than a few times.

“You remember them, right?” Wei Wuxian barreled on, utterly undaunted. “Lan Zhan’s been here twice before, and Nie Mingjue is the tall gorgeous one. Not that Lan Zhan isn’t tall and gorgeous – wait. Am I the short one in this relationship?!”

Wei Wuxian was two centimeters shorter than Lan Wangji, who was in turn shorter than Nie Mingjue (who he was sure routinely lied about his height in some misguided attempt to pretend he wasn’t quite as toweringly tall as he was); Wei Wuxian was, in fact, the short one, albeit only by a little.

Lan Wangji exercised his judgment and decided not to comment, offering up only a neutral hum when Wei Wuxian looked at him, aggravated.

“It’s good you’ve got a smart one in your marriage, Wei-gongzi,” the man said, chuckling. “Good at spotting and avoiding traps.”

“Traps..? – hey! Are you saying I’m not the smart one? Lan Zhan, tell him -!”

Lan Wangji hummed again, more to make Wei Wuxian laugh than anything else.

At some point, they settled down in the Demon-Slaughtering Cave, Wei Wuxian running around to fetch tea and some snacks; it was getting to be late in the evening, the journey to Yiling and all the introductions having eaten up most of the day, but tea was always welcome.

After a few moments, Lan Wangji realized that no one else was there – not Wen Ning, nor Wen Qing, nor anyone else – and he frowned. “Is this appropriate?”

“Sure it is,” Wei Wuxian said at once, his response coming a little too fast to be anything other than planned ahead of time. “Obviously it would be inappropriate for either of us to be alone with Nie Mingjue, being as he’s our future husband; we would require a chaperone. However, although we will also be marrying each other, we’re both marrying in as brides, and there’s never been any restriction on brides sharing each other’s company before the wedding.”

Lan Wangji gave him an unimpressed look. “Semantics.”

“Very useful semantics,” Wei Wuxian protested, and pushed one of the snacks – a little radish cake, by the look of it – towards him. “Come on, I want to talk with you, discuss some questions about our marriage, and to do it without being gawked at by one of the Wens. Are you really going to insist that I call one of them in here?”

He would probably call Wen Ning if he called anyone, Lan Wangji thought, and felt a spark of jealousy in his belly. Which was ridiculous, he was the one who was marrying Wei Wuxian, and getting Nie Mingjue in the bargain as well; there was no reason to be drinking vinegar at the thought of Wen Ning. Even if he was the one that Wei Wuxian had defied the cultivation world for, resurrected from the dead at great cost, kept by his side at all times –

“…no,” he finally said, and Wei Wuxian’s smile was brilliant enough for him to almost forget about his not-quite-righteous motives in agreeing to waive propriety. “You had questions?”

“Sure! I mean, how is it going to work? Do we split having him on even and odd days, or do we have just one really big bed –”

Lan Wangji’s ears were burning; he had somehow not expected that the questions would be of this type. He pinned his gaze firmly across the room. “The Unclean Realm is large,” he said. “We will each have quarters of our own.”

“Well, yes, of course. Everyone gets their own courtyard; I was there at the marriage negotiations too, you know. But in terms of the details –”

“Mingjue-xiong is the husband. He will decide.”

“He might be the husband, but it’s not as if we’re not men ourselves,” Wei Wuxian argued. “I may not know that much about being a cutsleeve – Jiang Cheng only managed to find me one spring book in all this time, apparently he’s encountering some awkwardness about buying them – but I have a vivid imagination and plenty of yang energy; I’m not going to wait around in my courtyard to see if he wants to visit or not.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Why would anyone have expected that he would? Why had Lan Wangji ever expected that this conversation wouldn’t leave him simultaneously turned on beyond all belief and also wanting to die of sheer awkwardness?

“I can lend you one, if you wish,” he said, still staring firmly at the wall.

“Lend me one – oh, Lan Zhan! You mean a spring book? For cutsleeves? You have one?”

Lan Wangji had more than one.

His brother had figured out years ago what his inclination was, and anyway the Lan sect prided itself on preservation of information; there had been cutsleeves among the Lan in the past, and they had donated their books to the library upon their deaths the way everyone else had. With Lan Xichen’s help, it hadn’t been too difficult to smuggle some of them back to his quarters to review once he’d realized that his spring dreams were not going to go away without external assistance.

(In the end, the information had only made his dreams more vivid and detailed, but at least he learned enough to be able to stop shamefully smuggling in extra robes every day and taking on additional chores to account for overusing the sect’s laundry.)

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you have to tell me everything,” Wei Wuxian said, leaning forward, his eyes bright with mischief – mischief, and something just a little bit more. Before, Lan Wangji would have told himself that he was imagining things, but for the first time he thought that he could hope that he wasn’t, that Wei Wuxian wanted him, wanted him as much as Lan Wangji wanted him in turn. “You have to take pity on me; I’ve never even kissed anyone!”

That got Lan Wangji to stop staring at the wall and to turn to stare at Wei Wuxian instead.

Wei Wuxian, the accomplished and even notorious flirt, as he’d seen with his own eyes in their time in the indoctrination camp; who had told him on Phoenix Mountain that he had lots of experience kissing –

“But you said –” he started, then stopped, pressing his lips together when Wei Wuxian started laughing.

“At Phoenix Mountain? You believed me?” Wei Wuxian said with a smile, his eyes curving into crescents. “No, I was just trying to save face. What was I supposed to say? I would have been embarrassed to admit it! Though actually, even though I’ve never kissed anyone myself, I did lose my first kiss right around that time; someone came up to me while I was blindfolded –”

Lan Wangji’s shoulders went up around his ears. “Wei Ying.”

“– the maiden was very forceful, but at the same time very shy, since she waited until I was blindfolded –”

“Wei Ying.”

“– she was so aggressive! Even managed to slip me a bit of tongue –”

“Wei Ying.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian looked delighted at the thought. “Now, now, fair’s fair, I’ve told you, now you have to tell me – have you ever been kissed?”

“…kissed. Once.”

“Oh, you did the kissing?” And now Wei Wuxian’s eyes were narrow, but playfully so – at least, Lan Wangji thought it was playful. Maybe Wei Wuxian was drinking a little vinegar, too. “You don’t mean a childhood kiss, do you? No? A real one, then; that puts you one up on me. When was it?”

Lan Wangji wanted the ground to swallow him up, but – it was no longer a matter that needed to be hidden lest Wei Wuxian hate him forever, a hopeless infatuation that could go nowhere and would be taken to the grave eternally unrequited. They were going to be married.

You could not start a marriage on a lie.

“…Phoenix Mountain.”

“What, really? Huh, that’s a coincidence! You kissed someone right around the time that –” Wei Wuxian paused, and Lan Wangji braced himself. “Lan Zhan. You didn’t.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t sound angry.

Lan Wangji snuck a peak at him – he didn’t look angry, either. He looked delighted.

“You know, Lan Zhan, that was very bad of you,” Wei Wuxian said, pretending to scold but grinning far too wide for it to sound authentic. “You took my first kiss, which I’d been guarding for twenty years! You have no choice but to take responsibility.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, feeling a wave of relief. “Wei Ying is right. Would marriage be sufficient recompense?”

“Now that’s more like it,” Wei Wuxian cackled. “Your first kiss, and mine, and soon we’ll be married…hey, Lan Zhan! We should do it again.”

Lan Wangji’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Kissing! After all, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Nie Mingjue on our wedding night – we should practice.”

“Practice…kissing.”

“We’re just the brides,” Wei Wuxian reminded him, and suddenly he was closer than Lan Wangji had expected; he was pressed right up against Lan Wangji’s side, and every part of them that was in contact felt as if it was on fire, even though there were layers and layers of cloth between them. “Our job in our marriage is to please our husband, since we’re not exactly going to be bearing him heirs. It’s no harm then, is it, trying to study up in advance on the sorts of things that will please him – that’s why I want to read those spring books you have, Lan Zhan. I want to think about all the things we could do together.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth was dry, and Wei Wuxian’s face filled his eyes.

“But I have to admit, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. “I also – just really want to kiss you.”

Lan Wangji leaned over and pressed his lips to Wei Wuxian’s.

It was better than Phoenix Mountain, when he’d been too aggressive, almost wild in his frenzied need to express himself and yet so new at what he was doing to figure out at first how their mouths would fit together; this time, with the little experience from before, their mouths slotted together naturally, and best of all, this time Wei Wuxian wasn’t just shocked and stiff with surprise in his arms; this time, Wei Wuxian was kissing him back.

Fiercely, even; his hands sliding up into Lan Wangji’s hair as they kissed frantically, Lan Wangji’s own hands on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and waist.

“Oh, Lan Zhan –” Lan Wangji heard Wei Wuxian groan his name against his lips, voice low and deep, and he was drunk on the sheer joy of it. “Lan Zhan –”

They tumbled down to the ground, Wei Wuxian pulling as much as Lan Wangji pushed, and Lan Wangji was straddling him, the two of them hot up against each other as they kissed again and again – lips and cheeks, faces, necks, wherever they could reach. Lan Wangji had had dreams like this, but nothing was compared to the reality: Wei Wuxian was warm in his arms, vocal with his pleasure, full of little whimpers and moans and his name, rolling around his mouth like fine wine; his legs inched up Lan Wangji’s thighs, urging him onwards even as his hands started exploring his shoulders and giving little tentative tugs of his hair that only made Lan Wangji less restrained because of how unexpected it was.

“Wei Ying…” he growled, applying his teeth to Wei Wuxian’s neck and rumbling with delight when Wei Wuxian threw back his head with a surprise moan of pleasure.

“Lan Zhan, oh, yes – is that how you’d do it for Nie Mingjue, Lan Zhan? I bet it is, I bet you’d love to put your teeth in his neck and mark it up – ah! Yes, like that, more – ”

They had long ago left propriety behind, but they were very quickly getting to the point of being truly inappropriate; the thought was fuzzy in Lan Wangji’s mind, seeming very unimportant – they were getting married soon, after all, and that would be even better than this, because Nie Mingjue would be there, his intense gaze on them both, his hands on them –

“We should stop,” he forced himself to say.

“We will,” Wei Wuxian said, tugging him down for another kiss, his hips arching and rubbing up against Lan Wangji’s. “We will, Lan Zhan, just a little more –”

Much more and Lan Wangji would very quickly be lost, violating his oaths of restraint before marriage; he was very near to the edge as it was.

“We can’t, we have to wait until marriage,” he murmured even as he sucked kisses and left teeth marks on Wei Wuxian’s collarbone. “But we can do something else…”

The Lan sect prided itself on a strict adherence to the rules, on obeying the spirit of the rule and not merely the letter, but there had been since long ago a very particular loophole regarding the rules of restraint – an acknowledgment of reality, really, of the fact that the blood of young men and women ran hot, and that it would be cruel to make a rule that so many would find themselves unwittingly breaking.

Sharing physical pleasure with another before marriage was of course absolutely inappropriate – when it was a man and a woman involved, rather than two men, it came with the loss of chastity, the risk of pregnancy, the ruination of all future hopes; it was reasonable to restrict those who had not yet bowed three times to, at most, touching each only with clothing fully in place.  

If they were not cultivators, that would be the end of it – but they were, and there were more routes to pleasure than the mere physical.

After all, the act of joining together yin and yang was not called dual cultivation for nothing.

Lan Wangji summoned up the qi from his golden core, allowing it to circulate through his meridians as if he were planning to cultivate, and dropped his hand eagerly between their bodies to Wei Wuxian’s dantian, where Wei Wuxian’s own cultivation, his golden core, would respond to his own, their cultivation reacting to each other as a stimulus, sparking pleasure even as they grew stronger. He’d never experienced it before, but he’d heard whispers of how it felt, a rush that was so good that it was nearly addictive and yet soothing as well, a relaxing of the terrible tension, allowing their bodies the peak of pleasure without the physicality of release that was denied to them.

Lan Wangji put his hand on Wei Wuxian’s belly and felt Wei Wuxian groan, his hips arch –

He felt –

Nothing.

[davosmymaster]

To the Ends of the Universe

A/N - Hello!!! How’s everyone doing? Just wanted to say thank you to the people who left a comment/liked the post about this one shot. I really hope this fic won’t dissapoint anyone.

Special thanks to @wonders-of-the-multiverse​ who has been there from the very first second. This fic initially started as both of us just daydreaming about the Master as usual and well, here we are XD. She was also my incredible beta reader.

As some of you know, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake. This is also my first fic on tumblr YAY

I really hope you have a good time reading this!!!

WARNINGS - Blood, mentions of nightmares, it’s pure fluff basically with hints of angst

PAIRINGS - Dhawan!Master x Reader (The Master x Reader)

WORD COUNT - 6,062 words

TO THE ENDS OF THE UNIVERSE

 The dimly lit hallways exploded in a bright white light as you rushed to the medbay, the loud thumping of your heart stuck in your ears as you forced your legs to keep the pace for just one more second.

 As Opposed to The Doctor’s, The Master’s TARDIS had always looked quite dark and unwelcoming, almost as if it wasn’t pleased with having anyone wandering around inside her. This time, however, a white flickering light guided you through the maze-like corridors to your destination. It was a big change from the dirty tricks she used to play during the first few months of your stay.

 The floor under your shoes quaked as the ship took off, the harsh trembling sending your body forwards and your shoulder crashing against one of the metal doors. You rubbed the tender spot for a second, the worry that had overwhelmed you at the sight of blood quickly being replaced by a wave of pure annoyance and agitation.

 “You could help me a bit here” you whispered through gritted teeth towards the TARDIS, the pain in your shoulder slowly dissolving into numbness.

 A low groan seemed to come from the walls and the energy inside it. The metal disappeared as the door slid open to reveal the grey colour of the medbay.

 “O-oh” you gasped “sorry”

 Once inside the room and without a thought, your body automatically went for the second drawer in one of the cupboards.

 Traveling the stars wasn’t as safe as you would have liked, and both the Master and yourself had gotten hurt more times than either of you remembered. As years and years passed you had surprised yourself in the most appropriate situations, becoming aware of the fact that you could find almost anything in the medbay at this point; even if you couldn’t understand the advanced medical technology a time lord could have gathered all over time and space for god-knows-how-long.

 “I’m back!” you announced when the control room appeared in front of your eyes again. The figure of the Master was leaning against the console, eyes too focused on his own empty fists to be considered normal. His hair was more disheveled than usual, the fringe coated with blood as it brushed across the top of his eyes. “Master”

 He jumped in place at the sound of your voice, one of his hands instinctively going to his coat’s pocket as a reflex. The wound on the side of his head was still bleeding, although the oozing flow of blood seemed to have lessened considerably since you had last seen him. His skin was much paler than usual and the dark rings under his eyes were looking much worse than that morning. You couldn’t help but think that he looked miserable, even beyond the blood staining his face and clothes.

 “Are you alright?” you whispered. You took a step forward cautiously and didn’t look away from his eyes, trying to find all the answers to your questions in those big brown orbs.

 “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 He quickly backed off, putting as much space between the two of you as he could. You watched him wander the room, walking in one direction before changing his mind the next second. You clenched your hands around the medical supplies, the weight of all the things you were carrying reminded you why you had left the room in the first place.

 “Have a seat somewhere” you demanded, although it sounded angrier than you had intended, almost like a bark. “You’re still bleeding”

 “YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

 Your heart hammered in your chest as a response. The silence fell between the two of you, the atmosphere suddenly running out of air. He looked like a madman right there in front of your incredulous eyes, bleeding and pointing at you like he pointed at his enemies after stating a threat. He had never glared at you with angry eyes before.

 The Master had been acting odd for some time now. It all started with a change in his plans. One day, for no apparent reason, he took you on a trip to one of the most beautiful planets in the universe. The blue dunes of sand under an orange bright sun permanently eclipsed by one of its forty-three satellites. It seemed to be the perfect place to have some rest, at least it was until some of the natives recognized the Master and threatened to kill both of you.

 Surely ‘the most beautiful’ didn’t imply ‘the safest’, as the few civilizations that lived there had been at war for more than a millennia. The only thing all those aliens had in common was, somehow, the desire for the Master’s dead body. When the TARDIS set off again, as far away from the planet as she could, you realized he had done the first good action in a long time: he had left behind two civilizations unified for a cause greater than themselves, to get rid of him once and for all.

 Most of the time you couldn’t choose where to go, he always traveled whenever and wherever he needed in order to gather weapons or artifacts. Other times it was merely to have some fun, and on some rare occasions you would manipulate him to use his bloodthirstiness to do some justice.

 Those trips weren’t as usual now, or maybe he just had stopped telling you the truth about his intentions. Burning planets, dangerous ships and poisonous waters became beautiful trips to sightseeing constellations and the most delicious dinners served next to the colorful Medusa Cascade. No matter how beautiful or safe the place seemed to be, there was always someone or something interrupting the dates you were trying to enjoy with the Master. Not that he would call them dates, anyway.

 You used to read him like an open book. When he said “you’ll slow me down” in reality he meant “this is gonna turn nasty and I want you as far away from here as possible”. When he said he wanted to be alone, that was probably the last thing he wanted. And most of all you were almost a hundred percent sure that the strange words he whispered into your hair when he thought you were asleep meant “I love you” in Gallifreyan.

 But you still hadn’t managed to persuade the TARDIS to get you a Gallifreyan dictionary with the words’ pronunciation. It was definitely a work in progress though, or it had been until you realized that the Master and yourself had been slowly growing apart for the last few months.

 “(Y/N)” he said, his voice almost as low as a whisper “I- I shouldn’t have-”

 “You’re right, you shouldn’t have” you responded firmly. There were a lot of things you were willing to forgive him for, but yelling and mistreating you wasn’t one of them.

 He groaned in pain then, drenching his fingertips in the blood clot in his temple. Your own heart shivered in your chest at the sight, concern quickly burning your insides as a white hot fire ran through your veins.

 “Don’t touch it!”

 You quickly walked the space keeping you apart and gave him a gentle smack to his wrist. He avoided your eyes, fixing them instead on the rolls of unopened gauze, alcohol, towels, and those strange alien band-aids that accelerated the healing process up to five times faster.

 In a flurry of movement the Master moved, his hands quick to try and snatch them from you. But you had known him for a long time and knew exactly what he was like.

 “I can do it myself, I’m not a child”

 “I know you can-” you replied softly, your mind trying to convince itself that he was acting weirder than usual because you had underestimated the damage caused by the blow he had suffered to the head. “-but I’m not as sure about the rest of the sentence.”

 He raised one eyebrow in response and you watched him try not to grimace in pain again.

 “Here” he pulled away from you and walked to the front door of the TARDIS, opening it with ease. The old wood-like doors pulled back to reveal a black nothingness filled with thousands of distant flickering stars “I need some air.”

 The Master took a seat at the border. His back rested against the doors, one of his legs dangling out into space, the other bent beneath him on the floor.

 “You’ve definitely taken quite a hit.” you laughed, “There’s no air in outer space!”

 He smirked with closed eyes, calmly breathing in and out through the nose. “Don’t tell a Time Lord what can and cannot be in outer space. Now get to work, if you’re not going to let me do it myself.”

 You took a seat in front of him in the small space between his figure and the open door, one of your legs also dangling out into space. Leaning in, you pressed the gauze soaked in alcohol against the open wound to finally stop the bleeding. The Master clenched his jaw as much as he could, hissing in pain.

 “Sorry” you apologized, “Keep the pressure on yourself, I’m gonna clean you up.”

 He leered at you, the corner of his lips smirking lasciviously. You rolled your eyes, taking the wet towel in your hands and proceeding to clean the dry blood away from his chin and cheek. You cleaned his short beard the best you could and tried to get rid of the blood clots in his fringe, unsuccessfully to your dismay.

 You could feel his eyes piercing yours, his fingers gently sliding across the skin of your shoulder, softly brushing your hair to get it out of the way. You fixed your eyes onto his own only to catch him avoiding your gaze, his attention stuck on staring out at the endless sight of the universe.

 The Master kept his eyes fixed in nowhere in particular while you worked on his wound. You slowly opened one of the band-aids and tried to avoid his hair as much as possible, so you could place it on the side of his head; just above the temple. Now you just had to wait a few minutes to remove it. You had used those curious things several times before and although the healing was sped up, the thing never failed to leave some kind of scar. But even with those odds stacked against him, the Master was always lucky enough to never get scarred- likely thanks to his own unique biology.

 You let yourself fall limp against the door and tilted your head to whatever the Master was looking for. The sight was beautiful as it had always been, millions of stars were almost swallowed by the black nothingness that separated planets, constellations, solar systems, and asteroids. And even at the incredible sight of all of this, you struggled to find something that could possibly retain the Master’s attention for more than a split second.

 “Are you alright? You’ve seemed a little distant lately” you asked again.

 Fixing your eyes on his features you searched for any sign of discomfort, either physical or emotional. At the lack of response your gaze started to wander, his hand catching your attention as he played with something inside of his coat pocket.

 He was likely twisting and curling the TCE between his fingers. It was a trait you had noticed during your time travelling with him, his fingers fidgeting without fail whenever he was deep in thought. It happened every time, he would either tap four beats on any surface he could find or get something to entertain his restless fingers with, most of the time the ‘thing’ being his TCE.

 The memories from the day filled your head then. He had looked distant the whole time, from the very first second he landed the TARDIS in one of the three planets that formed the solar system of one of the seventeen suns in Kasterborous. It was the closest you had ever been to Gallifrey and, still, it was far enough to not be able to admire the beautiful planet that had watched the Doctor and the Master grow into adults for centuries.

 “I’m just planning my next scheme to trap the Doctor”

 You nodded, although you didn’t believe a thing of what he said.

 The words of what you had been thinking for endless nights poured from your lips before your mind could make up an excuse for his strange behavior, like all the other times. No one could blame you, after all you were just trying to protect your heart and mind from shattering.

 “Is it me?” you asked finally, your voice betraying you and showing more emotion than what you had intended.

 The Master suddenly turned his curious gaze to you. So he was paying attention then…

 “Don’t you think I haven’t spotted how distant you’ve been lately” you added, although lately didn’t seem to be the right word. Obviously you had realized how much time he spent alone in the library and how his visits to the room you both shared were becoming less and less frequent. He always claimed he didn’t need to sleep as much, but you had been apart for enough time for you to notice that it was just a cheap excuse to not be there.

 “Do you not want me to be here anymore?”

 He frowned at your words.

 “W-wha-”

 “Are you still happy?” you asked with a hoarse voice, feeling the familiar weight of tears building up in your eyes at the low wheezing sound of the silence. You clenched your jaw and tried to swallow the tears. “Don’t lie to me.”

 He just stared at you in silence for a second, mouthing like a fish out of water, until he finally blinked and tried to make a sound.

 “I-is not-”

 “Just-” you cut him off, feeling again like a lie was about to spill from his lips. “-you seem sad, distant, you’re not happy and you’re lying to me.”

“No-NO!” You snapped when he tried to talk again, “Don’t try to deny it, I can tell. I know you”

 “So…” Anxiously you took a shallow shaky breath “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

 He pressed his lips together for a second but soon relaxed again. Changing his expression, the shimmer in his eyes shifted as he smirked slightly, the dark circles under his eyes failing to achieve the frightening look he was striving for. Maybe it would have worked with anyone else, but not with you.

 “You humans are so vain, always thinking the universe spins around you.”

 “I’m being serious, Koschei”

 He took a breathless gasp, almost as if he had been hit. The name of a time lord was one of the biggest, best-kept secrets in the universe. Only a handful of people had known (or would ever know) the real name of the Doctor, and due to the Master’s lack of sympathy and his trouble to connect with people to an emotional level, even less had known or ever would know his.

 ‘How many?’ you had asked when he confessed his real name one night, his forehead pressing against your sweaty collarbone.

 ‘Only you’ he had whispered, right before kissing your shoulder “and some Time Lords at the Academy, but they are not important.” you heard him take a deep breath, his nose pressed against your throat “All dead now.”

 Those times seemed out of reach. You even asked yourself if he regretted telling you.

 “Not you.” he whispered defeatedly, his head falling to his lap “It could never be you.”

 “What is it then?”

 He shifted his whole body to face you, squirming in his place and unable to keep still. He removed his hand from his pocket, clasping your own tightly.

 “It’s me.” he whispered in a choked breath and looked at your eyes “It’s so selfish of me to want you forever even though I know I don’t deserve you.”

 “Don’t say that!” you replied, struggling to believe the honesty in his voice and eyes. “You’re not serious. You can’t think like that after everything we’ve been through!”

 He focused again on your hands firmly entwined.

 “I believe it because… you’re so good” he looked away briefly towards the stars, before turning his gaze back to you again. “And people like me don’t get good people by their side or moments like this.”

 The Master stroked your palms with his thumbs, suddenly finding them more interesting than his own thoughts. After a few moments he gave a shaky sigh, backing off once more.

 “And if the past few attempts haven’t been proof of that, then I don’t know what could it be.”

 “Proof?” you questioned, “Proof of what? And what do you mean by the past few attempts?”

 He froze in place, and you frowned at his sudden stiffness. His shoulders tensed and body solid as he sighed deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried and failed to relax his posture. The Master grumbled to himself in defeat, his hand dipping back into his pocket and playing with the TCE or whatever he had found to fiddle with once more.

 “I-it’s nothing. Just rambling.” he shrugged in an attempt to consolidate his own thoughts, but not even you believed his body language. “You do it a lot, ramble I mean, ugh, it’s your fault. I’m getting your bad ha-”

 “Does it have something to do with the last few stops?” you insisted, although you knew from personal experience that pressuring the Master to talk more than he wanted was never a good idea “All those… extravagant places, the two dates at the Medusa Cascade…”

 “Dates?”

 You would have laughed at his disgusted look if the atmosphere wasn’t so tense between the both of you. So you just gave him a crooked smile.

 “Yes, Master. That’s what it’s called when a person takes another person for dinner to talk and have a good time, especially when the place is that fancy. I loved it even though...”

 He watched silently as you told him about the whole date and everything that happened afterwards, despite him being there by your side. Although the dinner had started off with good intentions, it had quickly slipped into a tone of awkwardness through no fault of his own. So much so that the chasing and ‘running for your lives’ had been very much welcomed, although he didn’t notice it. He even apologized once you got into the TARDIS. It was fair to say that he was beyond annoyed the first time.

 A month later, when the second date was just another failed attempt in another restaurant in the Medusa Cascade, he had been furious. That was one of the reasons why the console room (or the living room of the house the TARDIS was disguised as) was even messier than usual. He had broken some chairs and cups before following your steps as you had stormed out to the library.

 The Master realized as he watched you talk that there would be no such thing as a perfect time. He silently admired the star light reflecting in your eyes and highlighting your features, oblivious to everything else. He couldn’t believe the fact that fate had found a way for both your souls to meet and connect. It didn’t matter in the end how much he had tried to distance himself from any other form of life in the universe, because at the end of the day you had always been there, always. He didn’t believe in fate, but when he looked back at the few possibilities there was for him to meet a person that he truly cared about, it was hard not to succumb at the idea of a force greater than himself pulling the strings to figure everything out.

 Even if he dared to think for a split second about not seeing you again, he wouldn’t be able to keep his pieces together. The Master wanted to do the right thing for once, and if fate surprisingly existed, he was certain it absolutely despised him. Countless times he had tried to have a full minute in silence with you, just enjoying each other’s company with a beautiful view, and the same amount of times his plans had been ruined by someone or something trying to either kill him, obtain revenge or obtain revenge via killing him. Until that precise moment he had never had regrets about all the people he had annoyed.

 He wondered what he could do now. Kasterborous was the last place on the list, and he was beyond exhausted from trying. On the other hand, he couldn’t give up on you. His best dreams were always about you, but so were his worst nightmares. And whenever and wherever he was he could always be sure about two things: his love for you and his conviction that as long as your heart was beating, so would his.

 How had he expected to make it perfect when your lives had always been so messy? After all, that was the whole basis of your lives: chaos, adventure, nothing ever occurring according to plan. And still, everything seemed to always find a way to fall into place. Not even the tardis had felt like a home before you, but now home seemed to be in his hands whenever he held yours, and he would be so lost if your hand ever left his.

 A sudden current of hope swallowed him whole.

 “Travel the universe with me.” He whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

 You couldn’t help but chuckle at his pleading. However, your laugh died with ease when you turned around to find a pair of saddened eyes.

 You leaned in and stroked his beard in your palm, using a few seconds to admire his lips and features. Sighing, you repositioned yourself with both of your hands in his lap, your eyes staring intensely at his own as you held his attention on yourself.

 “I already travel with you, idiot.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, “What’s wrong?”

 The Master took three shallow breaths, his sight lost somewhere in your hands above the fabric of his trousers. You moved away from him again, gazing worriedly to how distant he seemed to be from his own flesh. It was at that moment that his hand emerged from the concealment of his thick purple coat pocket, his fist trembling and knuckles a stark white colour.

 An idea quickly surged in your brain, and you fought to swallow the dry lump in your throat at the fear of something serious happening to him.

 However, that fear quickly vanished when his fist relaxed and his fingers slowly curled open; revealing what was inside for the light of day to see.

 For a split second you thought he wasn’t holding anything, but then your mind acknowledged the shape of a ring sitting proudly in front of your incredulous eyes. The ring was so tiny in his large hand that you couldn’t properly see it until his fist was completely open and flat, it seemed almost a crime to keep something so beautiful concealed in the shadows.

 The ring was silver, encrusted with white circular gemstones that you didn’t even bother to try and name as without a doubt they weren’t from Earth. The central gem shined a dim light almost invisible until he lent his hand to the side. For a second you could have sworn you had seen a fine black line inside of it, the thought quickly dismissed as a trick of the light as your eyes filled with unstoppable tears once again.

 The only thing that could make you look away from the small piece of jewelry was a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, that and the fact that the Master had quickly stowed the ring away in his coat pocket once more. Your trembling body kept your eyes locked on the empty space it had once inhabited regardless, that was until you heard his panicked voice breaking through the loud thumping of your heart in your ears.

 The Master had positioned both his hands against your cheeks which were now wet with your tears, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek and drawing you away from your reverie. Only then did you dare to look at him again.

 “I-I’m sorry. I-” he took shallow breaths, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes at light speed. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, please. Don’t cry.”

 “W-” you tried to ask, but the words in your mouth didn’t seem to appear fast enough in your mind “W-what’s that?”

 He leaned in and pressed his forehead to your own, still wiping away the tears that littered your cheeks with his thumbs. Even from that angle you could discern how one tear slipped away from his right eye, licking gently at the hot skin behind only to die in the corner of his lips.

 “Nothing.” He stated with a shuddered exhale, suddenly cutting himself off by chewing his lip “It’s nothing!”

 “It’s a ring!” You cried in return.

 From all the things you expected from the Master, marriage was very low on the list. He despised most planets and sassily commented about any tradition and culture that wasn’t his own. You had never even bothered to think about marriage, especially after knowing that weddings on Gallifrey were mostly arranged, a mere game to obtain political power and status amongst the community. In Gallifrey weddings weren’t enjoyed and at the end of the day, they didn’t mean anything either; it was just a convenient tool for both parties.

 But you weren’t a Time Lord.

 You were human.

 Just one more human traveling the stars.

 During your travels, you had learned that the meaning of marriage was a timeless concept to the future of the human race, no matter how long someone had been away from Earth or how many millenniums had passed since the Solar System had been destroyed to dust. Some things simply stayed the same.

 So he knew what marriage meant to the human race, and most importantly, he knew what marriage meant to you, for the both of you.

 “No” he tried “No, it’s…”

 “Don’t lie to me” you growled, pushing his shoulders back “Don’t you dare lie to me. I’m tired of getting pushed away. You always, always, do that. And it hurts”

 You buried your head in your knees, your arms wrapping around yourself tightly as tears silently escaped your eyes without remedy. It happened regardless of how you felt, were you happy? nervous? sad? You didn’t even know at this point. The thing with the Master was that he was always so hard to comprehend, despite all the years of traveling and living together. In the end he was always true to his spontaneous, chaotic natures, never failing to surprise you at the least expected moment.

 The Master moved closer, this time pressing his forehead to your shoulder. A second after you felt your own shirt getting damp, your heart tightening in your chest even more, if that was even possible. Knowing that not only was he only trying not to cry in front of you, he was also trying to hide, trying to find somewhere safe to let himself break. It was hard not to think about how much exhaustion and courage it was taking him not to get on his feet and run as far as he could.

 He always had struggled to put his emotions into words, and expressing the depth of his feelings for you was still something he wasn’t quite used to. Even though he had never said I love you openly, you also knew he didn’t need to.

 The Master was the kind of person whose acts always said more than his words. The way he supported you in everything you wanted to do, the soft whispers to wake you up and his habit of making a single cup of coffee in the morning just for you (mostly because he didn’t like the taste). You had spent an endless amount of nights in his arms when you couldn’t sleep, countless days curled up tightly next to him when sickness took over your body. You didn’t remember what nightmares felt like anymore, you hadn’t had one since the first night he shared with you. Yet still, you preferred them to the terror swallowing your body whole when his own nightmares woke you up in the middle of the night.

 “Of course it’s a ring.” he finally admitted, “Im selfish enough to not want you with anyone else or anywhere else. I want you here for as long as we have.”

 His confession was sealed with a feather light kiss against the exposed skin of your neck. “I’ve been trying to ask you for a long time, but it never works out. I fear this will have to do”

 When you pulled away, he quickly wiped all the tears from his face in a rapid and almost angry manner. But even with his cheeks partially dry, you could still see the redness tinted around the edges of his eyes and the tip of his nose, still spot the remnants of tears clinging to his eyelashes.

 You pulled his hands away from his face and cleared away the final tears that slipped across his cheeks. A choked sob tearing from his throat as he tried to take a steadying breath. You could clearly see the conflict he waged with himself, especially so when his hands turned into fists and his jaw clenched so tightly you feared he would break a tooth.

 Pressing the tip of your thumb against his lip, you caressed the soft skin you were dying to kiss. Looking deeply into his eyes, you could tell he seemed to be finally paying full attention.

 “Look at me.”

 “I’m looking at you.”

 “No, you’re not.” You exclaimed, “You’re thinking, not looking. Stop torturing yourself in that head of yours and just… look at me and see.”

 Frown lines marked his face and you took the chance to get rid of the white band-aid that stuck to his forehead; revealing the pristine healed skin underneath.

 “What do you want me to see?” The Master ventured after a moment of silence.

 “How much I love you.” You brushed the tip of his nose with yours and slid your hand against the soft hairs in his jaw. “You need to see it, and believe…”

 His short chuckle was melody to your ears.

 “It's impossible not to see it, love.” He smiled sadly, your skin shivering under his touch as he slid two fingers under the fabric of the shirt’s collar. Lazily he outlined your collarbone, his hands roaming and exploring your skin as though it was an uncharted planet.

 You smiled to yourself, knowing it was yet again another sign of his nervous quirks; the constant need to entertain his fingers with something.

 “It’s there every time I look at you.” The Master continued, “And unfortunately, I never believe what I see.”

 Somehow, you already knew what he was going to say, the words nestled deep within your heart. Closing your eyes, you gently pressed your lips against his own, the moment brief and chaste before backing off almost immediately afterwards.

 “I’ll have to make you then.”

 Leaning forwards your hand reached outwards, pulling the pocket of his coat round as you brazenly dug down into his pocket. It wasn't hard to find the tiny piece of jewelry, but it was definitely harder to free your wrist from the Master’s grip.

 “Please…” he begged with pleading eyes “What are you…?”

 Eventually, and without a word, he let your wrist go. You licked your lips, feeling the coldness of the ring nestled against your own palm but too afraid to open your fist to give it a proper look.

 Taking a deep breath, you finally encouraged yourself to do what had to be done.

 Even before giving the ring a second look, you slowly slid the piece of jewellery on to the place it belonged; where it would always belong. Then with baited breath you drew your gaze carefully across every inch of it, committing every shine, every detail to memory. The circular gem in the middle caught your attention for a lot longer than when you had initially seen it, and you found that the more you fixed your eyes on it, the clearer the thin black lines became inside of the gem.

 You could tell it was gallifreyan, the entwined circles were hard to mistake for any other language, the black dots inside the circumferences were almost impossible to see. You struggled to find the meaning, even with the knowledge from the classes that The Master had given you in the past.

 He seemed to be holding his breath when your eyes watched his features again. Noticing your eyes on him, he swallowed loudly. His whole figure relaxed. His shoulders falling back against the wood-like door, his constant frown fading and hands falling limp in his lap. With nifty fingers brushed away his fringe in an attempt to remove the hair from his eyes.

 He was clearly overwhelmed by the situation and you did understand his reaction, after all he had been trying to propose for a long time.

 “What does it mean?”

 His grin was the biggest he had ever made, his eyes recovering that special shine you hadn’t seen in months.

 “Why do I even bother trying to teach you?”

 “Why do I even bother treating your wounds if you make me want to punch you in the face afterwards?”

 “Uhm… let’s see…” He jokingly teased. Catching your left hand, he brought it closer to his eyes, his gaze fixated on the ring perched on your finger.

 With a steady voice and growing confidence, The Master pronounced a series of sounds that you couldn’t quite comprehend, your mind still flaring with recognition for them as the words he always whispered in your hair during the night.

 Before you could protest about not speaking gallifreyan, he promptly translated.

 “Hold my hand to the ends of the universe.” He took your hand and gently pressed his lips to the ring and the skin around it.

 “This is my promise” he finished with a whisper.

 Your breath was caught in your throat. You only remembered you needed to say something when he warily gazed to your own incredulous eyes. You had no idea what he would decipher in your gaze, as your own torrent of emotions were hard to decode even by yourself. But you caught sight of the huge amount of hope installed in his eyes and your heart hammered in your chest at the sight.

 “Yes, I do.”

 The Master chuckled, your attention catching a glimpse of the happiness exploding in his eyes. It was like watching a supernova explode in before you. He let his head fall to your intertwined hands once again, sliding his fingers to tighten his grip around your own as he held your hand.

 “I wanted to propose to you.” he smirked, “Not marry you on the spot. We have time for that.”

 You chuckled and he lent in, his lips gracing your cheek as he kissed you once more. With his breath hot against your skin, the Master released a shaky, relieved whisper.

 “Thank you, love.”

 With a gentle touch, his hands wandered to the small of your back urging you to lay down on top of him. You followed his guidance with little resistance, hands pressed against his chest as you could hear the rapid beating of his hearts despite the numerous layers of clothing he always wore.

 Excited at the sound, you shifted your hand directly above his hearts, the gemstones in the ring sparkling and reflecting the flickering light of the stars on your finger.

 “I love you.” You whispered as his hands traced circular lines in your back. He made an amused sound and kissed the top of your head.

 “I love you too,” He answered without a moment's hesitation.

[kayr0ss]

A Tactical Approach

[Diakko Week 2020, Day 2: Hand Holding / Cuddles, Fluff] AO3

Happy to participate in Diakko week 2020! @dianakko-week

---

Akko had never considered herself a strategic person but sometimes life led a girl into situations that felt like war.

And this was a battle she was determined to win.

She assessed the setting—it was important to know your surroundings and use them to your advantage after all. What could she possibly do to make the most out of this situation? What was the ideal picture of a victory in her mind?

Victory was sweet. Like plums.

It would also be warm and absolute, full of conviction and with no space for hesitation.

And hopefully victory wasn’t sweaty. Oh by Jennifer—please—she hoped victory wasn’t sweaty!

Why were her hands sweaty now of all times? She sighed, wiping her palms along the fabric of her skirt in an attempt to alleviate the problem. Satisfied, she returned to assessing the terrain of her battle. She was in Diana’s dormitory, sitting on Hannah’s stolen study chair so that she and Diana shared a desk, huddling themselves shoulder-to-shoulder. It was eight fifty-seven in the evening and she had been waging this war for all of seventeen minutes by now.

Yes, she was counting since eight forty.

The opposing party of this skirmish just so happened to be the object of her affections. What were her motivations? What would her next move be? Akko squinted at her foe, watching as she flipped another page of the Ancient Runes textbook she was examining. She brushed back blonde and green tresses behind her ear, the candlelight of the lamp on her desk flickered playfully across her features and oh my god she has it bad, doesn’t she?

Akko exhaled, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Diana looked up, blue eyes softer than usual, and tilted her head in inquiry.

“Is everything alright, Akko?”

Ah. She really had it bad.

“Yeah.” Akko said in a quiet voice. It was so unlike her that Diana’s brow quirked upward. The movement was subtle, but they were near enough to each other for Akko to notice.

“Book.” The blonde chided, pointing downwards to the (very much ignored) Divination textbook lying in front of Akko. “You’re getting distracted again.”

Akko simply huffed. “Like it’s my fault!”

That won a small chuckle out of Diana, who turned a little pink if Akko wasn’t seeing things. This meant the implication didn’t go over her head—and that was all and well. Akko didn’t want it to go over her head. She knew that Diana knew that she… felt things.

Many, difficult to describe things that she frankly didn’t have the vocabulary for, so she’d much rather express it in actions. Diana leaned in a little, bumping their shoulders playfully. Akko giggled, looking back towards the pages of her book with no intention of reading. She felt her face heat up but she still smiled, appreciative of what was such a small yet meaningful gesture of affection from the normally aloof Diana.

She bumped her shoulder back. They were both smiling into their books now.

These little interactions had brought her back to the essence of her battle—of the mission she was on, and the victory she aimed to secure.

Now wasn’t the time to get distracted! The setting was perfect: quiet, candle-lit, with the rest of the room glowing softly in yellow and without Hannah and Barbara in sight. The curtains were pulled open and, despite it being a little cloudy, the view was just as wonderful as a clear night sky.

Akko examined her artillery options. She already used the 'shoulder bump'. Was  it a good time to…

To maybe… lean her head on her shoulder?

She huffed while shaking her head and pretended it was because of the book. That wouldn’t work. She’d have a hard time reading and would probably fall asleep. She didn’t want to put Diana in a situation where she’d have to support her weight too much.

Displaying affection was such a difficult war to wage.

Her most distal appendages might work though—she had a whole two hands with fingers and thumbs! Right. She should use those. Maybe. But they were sweaty! Gods, did this have to be so hard!

But she was Akko Kagari and so far just doing it had worked wonderfully for her! And so she threw caution to the wind, and… placed her hand on the desk.

It was a strategic move. If Diana picked up on her cue, she should place her hand within pinky-reaching distance, right? Right? Akko swallowed, trying her best to look disinterested in where Diana’s hand would fall next.

The blonde had finished the words on her page, and motioned to flip to the next. Akko watched in her peripheral vision, almost in slow motion, as Diana’s hand fell back lower, lower and finally—yes!

She put it on the desk. Beside Akko’s hand.

Akko picked up an extra quill and flipped open her notebook, keeping her left hand obviously still and available, hoping that Diana hadn’t started learning Japanese because she decided to write her notes in her native language to ‘aid with recall.’

Never mind the fact that she was nervously scribbling ‘please hold my hand, please hold my hand, please hold my han—” over and over again.

Ah, but Diana seemed engrossed, and Akko took it up on herself to take initiative. Again.

It was time to deploy stealth tactics.

Slowly, and with no small amount of nervousness, she inched her pinky finger a whole centimeter to the left. That was progress! Diana hadn’t noticed. Perfect. Emboldened by her success, she went and moved in closer.

Shit. Diana pulled her hand to scratch an itch along her chin and—that was illegal, it was so cute! To Akko’s relief, her hand returned to its original position except this time it was… closer?

Was Diana picking up on her stealth tactics?

Suddenly losing her nerve, Akko ceased her slow advance. But then why would she? Reciprocation was a good thing, right?

She took a chance, looking towards her notebook to scribble a little more nonsense, and then brushed their pinky fingers together.

Surely such a small action should not have such a profound effect on her—felt from the tips of her ears, down to the pit of her stomach. There was fluttering, fluttering everywhere and this slow exchange felt like it was going to drive her insane!

Wasn’t Diana supposed to be the overthink-y one?!

Then she noticed that Diana had gone remarkably pink. Her eyes were still on the book, but there were details that Akko finally picked up once she let herself stare for just a minute.

Diana’s eyes weren’t moving. They were intense and boring a hole into what must have been the same passage on that very same page[3]  for the past two minutes. Her eyes fluttered prettily, and Akko swooned a little.

She hooked their pinky fingers together—Diana had obliged willingly.

It was fascinating to watch the way she tried to steel her expression, but the way the column of her throat moved as she gulped was something Akko didn’t miss.

Oh, this was going to be the death of her. She pulled her own red eyes back towards her textbook.

Was Diana nervous too? Looked like it, at least a bit. The thought of it made the fluttering grow stronger than it ever did before, and Akko figured she was probably a raging shade of red by now.

But she loved every minute of it.

Diana—god damn it—pulled on the cuff of Akko’s sleeve to bring her hand closer, and pried her palm open, facing upwards.

And then she began to gently brush her fingertips along the inside of her palm, still feigning interest for her textbook, and Akko wanted to set herself on fire.

Akko never wanted this to end. Her heartbeat was going into overdrive, and she was pretty sure her palms were starting to sweat again but it was too late to care about that now, wasn’t it? Diana’s breathing seemed shallower, and that was a sentiment she could relate with. Somehow, it was comforting to see that she wasn’t the only one so nervous about this whole ordeal.

Praying to each and every one of her Asian ancestors, Akko steeled her nerves.

She’s going to do it.

She’s going to move in for the winning blow.

She splayed out her hands, gently, doing her best to caress every inch of skin Diana had in contact with her, before catching the spaces in between Diana’s fingers to fit her own hand snugly into a hold.

Diana was done pretending to care about the book. She had gasped, softly, and looked downwards towards their hands. She was blushing wonderfully, eyes wide, and the small smile that grew on her lips was an image Akko wanted to remember forever.

“Shall we take a break?” Diana finally broke their silence. She looked up towards Akko and—by the nine the look she was receiving was so tender it felt almost unreal.

“That’d be nice.” Akko giggled, dropping any pretense of disinterest as well.

Diana looked a little shy and hesitant, and Akko was about to ask why but then Diana leaned forward, snuggling close as she settled her forehead on Akko’s shoulder. She was trying to hide a grin. How sly!

“I can see the smile on your face, you know.” Akko’s giggles didn’t end, and she rarely spoke so softly.

“Can you blame me?” Diana’s speech was muffled against her shoulder, smile evident in the sound of her voice.

“Gotta admit, I can’t.” Akko’s grin was just as wide.

“I could get used to this.” Diana admitted, running her thumb against the back of Akko’s.

Now that they’d finally gotten to holding hands, they might have some trouble learning how to let go. Diana definitely showed no intention of doing so anytime soon.

Akko’s chest bloomed with warmth, affection, and something more.

Victory was sweet.

It was also a little sweaty and involved a lot of nerves and—

(Akko watched as Diana pulled herself upright again, bringing Akko’s hand closer towards her)

—it felt like a kiss to the back of her hand.

---

fin

---

A/N: Thank you to Tototops, who did a wonderful job beta reading and correcting all the little errors I made in this chapter! I appreciate you so much, you did so good!

Also yes hand holding is a BIG DEAL guys

[dowoonie-namjoonie]

All You Need is Confidence

Paring: Teacher!Jae x Student!Reader x Teacher!Wonpil

A/N: IDK why but I’m on a student-teacher kick, probably because I’ve been watching PLL again so...ENJOY! BTW, if you like this I’m probably going to make it a series because why not! If this does make you uncomfy, I suggest you don’t read it. 

Warnings: Student-teacher relationships, poly relationship, slight age gap, minor language, and suggestive themes. 

(Unedited, and also there will be a second part!)

High school was not fun, you know how people say it’s one of the best times in your life, well you have reason to disagree. Senior year was the most stressful to you, purely because of the inevitable change from childhood to adulthood when you go to college. That pressure to instantly grow up scared the ever-living shit out of you without fail. 

However, school wasn’t always that bad, your senior year was bad, yes. But, three people in your life made sure on their lives that you’d have the best year ever. Number 1, your best friend Kang Younghyun. Both you and him were senior this year, Younghyun always had a higher work ethic than you. Motivated to do anything and everything, honestly, his main goal was to travel the world by himself. By far, he was the most daring, independent person you’d ever met, he had confidence practically radiating off of him. So, you can imagine that there was never a dull moment with him. 

Number 2 and 3 go hand in hand. Mr. Park Jaehyung and Mr. Kim Wonpil, they made sure the hallways were a safe place and more importantly that class was never plain. Mr. Park and Mr. Kim are best friends from what you know ever, they even went to this high school just like you and Younghyun. Even though they were best buds, they were complete opposites. 

Mr. Park’s english class was eventful. Mr. Park hated homework so he rarely gave it, said he “doesn’t believe in it.” Most of the time he’d spend class talking to kids about video games, giving so advice to novices to the games he liked. Of course he actually taught...once a month maybe! Mr. Park was just one of those cool teachers who didn’t teach, but yet someone taught you everything you need to know about the world. Weird how that happens. Commonly, people knew him as a young teacher-same with Mr. Kim-even romanticizing the man. Most of your girlfriends swooned over either one of the teachers: But, hey you had to admit it, you definitely had a crush on Mr. Park. 

Mr. Kim, on the other hand, taught a tedious government class. Mr. Kim seemed to always be second whenever compared to Mr. Park, it kinda made you feel guilty having liking the one out of the two. They both were equally good people, but since Mr. Park is barely a teacher people just like him more. You see, Mr. Kim taught, there was nothing he loved more than giving 30 slides worth of a powerpoint, making you take pain-staking notes every-other day. Mr. Kim was popular more on his visuals and how shy he was. Mr. Kim could get flustered about anything and everything, once a kid in your class asked to go to the bathroom because he needed to take a shit, and Mr. Kim blushed rocking back and forth on his chair all because how the kid worded his sentence. Mr. Kim was adorable in a I-can-make-fun-of-him way, maybe it was teenage hormones but you had a crush on him too. Ah, but the crushes you had would never go anywhere...right? 

Anyway, the theme between them two was that you always went to them when you were upset. Both teacher took a liking to you because of your playful nature and natural sense of what they taught. Your intelligence seemed to impress most people, but you had to admit when you had your downfalls, especially when learning what the difference of absolute monarchy and constitutional monarchy. Civics wasn’t your strong suit. In english class, Mr. Park would make you stand out from the class making fun of every detail about you, Mr. Kim had empathy for you. Tutoring you in a heartbeat whenever you had trouble in his class, which seemed frequent. No matter how much Mr. Kim would hate to admit it, but he didn’t mind your merciless teasing, so of course you were his favorite student. Still, they both helped you through thick and thin. Like today.

Today, today was not your day. Earlier this morning Younghyun told you he was going home early sick, so you needed to get another ride home. Or you’d have to take the bus home, which was a no-go for you since taking the public bus freaked you out. You don’t know, the fact anyone could sit next to you made you paranoid. What if it was a serial killer, who planned on following you home and killing you? See, paranoid. 

Then this girl in your class ruined your whole project, a fucking group project, those you despise. Why was it fair to be partnered up with people who, simply, didn’t care about their grade just like you did. This girl proved this fact almost definitely, for your chemistry class, you were supposed to build a representation on how electrical currents go through objects. You being you, took on the roll easily, priding yourself with most of the difficult things. The one thing she needed to do, that ignorant bimbo, was to bring a potato and toaster. So, the chemistry project was left with an F. 

When you got frustrated you cried, unfortunately this flaw was seen by everyone in your chemistry class. Leaving you the laughing stock of the school for at least the next few weeks. The stares from people-even the mocking laughing, made your spiral. And why, all because of a stupid girl who couldn’t do her part in a simple project. Embarrassing yourself further, you decided to run out of class to the nearest person who could help calm you down. 

Panic filled you as you ran through the, just nearly, populated hallways. As you sobbed down, people looked at you like you were some crazy person on the brink of a full-blown breakdown. In these situation where you had minor panic attacks, you would run to yours and Younghyun’s meeting place. The janitors closet that no-one dared to go into, no one but you and Younghyun. Since, he left earlier because he’s sick, there was only one other place where you could go besides the unhelpful guidance counselors that would give you shitty life advice and send you back to class. No, Mr. Park could help you, he always managed to make you feel better. 

People were insatiable, desperately trying to shatter you into a million pieces as you made your way to Mr. Park’s english room. Thankfully, and ironically, for you the bell had rung in the knick of time. Mr. Kim noticed a heap of students outside his classroom, crowded together whispering insults at god knows what. When he heard your name strun into the mix, he realized you were standing in the middle of this crowd, holding yourself trying to hide your tears. 

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Kim exclaimed, grabbing the attention of the students, who seemed more flabbergasted than anything. Mr. Kim never yelled. “Clear out, now!” 

The man had never looked more serious, a demanding tone riddled in his voice, his eyes like a black-hole to those who opposed him, and his hands put on his hips. So, this is what he’s like when he’s angry. His anger helped you, students cleared out into other room, lingering students were shoved away into the bathrooms fearing of a write up. Still, you stayed on the ground hiding your tears, Mr. Kim coming up in front of you, the tap of his shoes alerted you. 

“Y/N,” he started, voice getting closer as he kneeled down. Sure, he’s seen you upset thousands of times, but out of those times you haven’t cried once. There was no time due to your whining and yelling about whatever set you off that day. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

Mr. Kim was concerned, per usual he had empathy for you, upset himself because you were crying. He could never tell why, but he hated when you were angry or sad, he just couldn’t stand it. 

“N-No...,” you whipped a tear, looking up at his face. Being met with pure handsomeness, but there was no time to be entranced by his record-breaking looks. “Can-Can you take me to Mr. Parks...please, I need to talk to him-to both of you. Is that okay?”

Mr. Kim was taken aback, luckily for him and Mr. Park had no class, lunch break comes with perks. “Of course it’s okay, let’s go, everything will be okay.” Mr. Kim put a hand on your back, tapping you lightly to encourage you to get up. Complying, both of you made it to Mr. Park’s, just catching him in the middle of taking a bit of his tuna sandwich. 

“Oh hello...oh no,” his sandwich dropped onto the desk upon seeing you blotchy face. Uncomfortable sight to see. “Y/N, Wonpil what’s going on?”

Mr. Kim lead you to a nearby desk, out of all the empty ones he put you directly in front of the teachers desk. 

“I’m not sure,” Mr. Kim started, backing away from you as you convulsed with a sobbing fit. “I found her like this in the hallway.” 

Mr. Park clicked his tongue, looking around his desk for some unused tissue and a free water bottle. Oddly enough he had both of those things tucked away in his desk. Strutting over to you, he gently held the tissue up to your face, dapping off some stray tears, in the process placing the water bottle next to you. 

“Just calm down okay,” Mr. Park muttered, focused on cleaning you up. 

Mr. Kim came up behind him, reaching for the water bottle and opening it up for you. Carefully, Mr. Park withdrew his hand, letting Mr. Kim give you some water. Even then, you didn’t calm down, concerning both of the men when you started hyperventilating. Today was just one of those days. The whole ordeal rang through your head, no one could ever look at you the same ever again. Look at you now crying in front of two men, who you adore, sullying everything they knew about you. The thought that your life was over made your panic attack protrude, increasing your talent of overthinking.   

“What’s going on Jae,” Wonpil kept his eyes on you with pure worry in his eyes. Wonpil has never experienced a panic attack before, let alone even seen one in person. 

“She’s having a panic attack um...I’ve got this.” 

Mr. Park stepped up to you again, making sure you could only focus on him. He placed his hand on your lower thing, squeezing lightly, placing his forehead against yours. Both him and you made a deep eye contact, calmingly he said “Y/N, calm down, everything’s going to be okay.” When you didn’t respond to him, instead you ignored him, he began tapping in a pattern on your thighs. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, keeping up with the pattern. “Focus on my fingers, okay? Focus on how I’m tapping you, okay?” 

Listening to him, you began to calm down, feeling his tapping. One time on the right, next on the left, then on the right, then on the left...

“That’s it,” he began, not giving up on the tapping, pulling you back to reality. 

“I’m okay...okay...I’m okay,” you spoke up, swallowing back the horrible panic you just felt. 

Mr. Park pulled back, proud of himself that his efforts to calm you down worked, Jae was experienced with panic attacks. Although it killed him to see you like that, he’s just glad you came here for him to help you. 

With the tissue, you rubbed your face and nose of any liquid that came out of you. Both men looked at you in waiting for your next move, they didn’t know what could throw you off. 

But, someone had to speak up at some point. “Do you want to talk about it Y/N?” Mr. Park’s question made you shake, Mr. Kim noticed this nodding him off. 

“Let’s not talk about that,” Mr. Kim spoke, putting a loving smile on his face to hopefully not start up another panic attack. “Um...Why don’t we do something? Yea, like...” Wonpil was at a loss, looking over to his best friend for something that could distract you in this moment. 

“Y-Yea,” Mr. Park perked up, jumping to his desk to find anything to help you regulate yourself. The only thing he had that was remotely fun and not school work, was a Christmas word search he’d given the freshman class he taught yesterday. “This, we can do this word search!”

“Yes, a word search!” Both teachers yelled excitedly, Mr. Park placed the word search on his desk, Mr. Kim beckoning you to come over to them to do the word puzzle. 

You knew what they were trying to do, but really you were in exactly no position to deny the men who just helped you through that. After all, they were making you feel better. Like a snail, you slid off the desk, trudging your way over to both of the enthusiastic men sitting in Mr. Park’s spinny chair that they pulled out just for you. Mr. Kim placed a pencil in your hand, sliding the paper more towards you, meanwhile Mr. Park pulled up two chairs for him and Mr. Kim to sit in next to you. Sitting down next to you, the both watched you complete the puzzle, randomly helping you throughout. 

Mr. Park and Mr. Kim had a secret, an unspoken secret between the two of them. Even if it was left untouched and talked about, both men new that both of them had a crush on you. They were disappointed, even discussed in themselves that they liked you, but you didn’t make it any easier either. They felt the need to protect you, constantly, the need to make you happy when no one else could are their duties. For Jae, he started to like you when you promptly scolded him for being a horrible teacher, but an amazing guy. From that day forward, you and Jae formed a bond where you made fun of eachother with hidden love. For Wonpil, it’s when you defended him when people were making fun of the way he got flustered. He just knew you were the one, no ones ever defended him that way. The more you came to talk to them, the more their feeling began to grow for you. Ditto, same thing happening to you. 

All of it happened so fast, Mr. Park was lost in thought about you. Delicately, he watched you as you tried to figure out the puzzle. Even though your face was red, eyes swollen, and nose runny Jae still admired your looks. The way your face was scrunch up in determination to defeat the puzzle, the way you bit your lip, or the way your soft looking hair fell on your face-

Reaching out his bigger hand, he wisped a stray piece a hair from out of your face, getting a better look at your beauty. But then you turned to him, with your wide E/C eyes and a cute pout on your face, he just couldn’t help himself. His hand moved from your, now proven, soft hair. Stroking his way to cup your cheek, his callassed thumb ran across your bottom lip. The plumpness fueling him more, before you both knew it his lips were on yours. His lips encased yours, the sudden feeling making you whimper under him, the only word to describe how it felt was euphoric. First you were shocked, not expecting your teacher to touch you, let alone kiss you. Then, a feeling bubbled in you, your stupid crush and all the fantasies you’ve had about him made you melt into him. Closing your eyes, beginning to kiss him back, your hand met grasped his shirt, pulling him further into you. Kissing Mr. Park was something else.