#- she isn’t blind. or saying that unwarranted/

[byakuyasdarling]

I’m so glad I have drawn more art of S/I comforting / holding Bya recently. Since my artwork is focused a lot on my comfort, it doesn’t happen too much but I think of comforting him so much ♥️♥️ I’m glad it’s finally reflecting in my art

[bumblehoneybee]

Y'know what? Fuck it, we ball. Child! Reader comes home to Parent! Shadow or Bobby Bearhug coming home crying after a rough day or being bullied? Perfectly understand if not though!

His Everything

The worst part is the not knowing why. Why do people do these things? What about you makes them want to be so mean? You’re not anything more or anything less than any of your peers, you’re pretty normal if you had to guess. Your dad is kinda weird, sure, but isn’t everybody’s?

Besides, no one really knows you dad. You ride the bus to and from school, and no one’s ever seen inside your house. Maybe that’s it? Because there’s something mysterious about you? But why would that lead to the teasing?

What makes someone a loser?

Shadow finds you in the backyard, a grocery bag still hanging from the tips of his fingers. He can see the tracks on your cheeks, the despondent way you pluck grass from the ground just to let it flow away in the breeze. You haven’t even noticed his presence at the backdoor, so you’re obviously lost in your own misery.

He sighs, a painful twist in his chest. He doesn’t want you to be upset, and typically you’re not. You’ve been very easy to parent, besides the occasionally bumping heads you’d do with him. Shadow could handle you being angry with him, but how does he deal with you being upset due to something unrelated?

Shadow sets down his bag, and eases outside. You look up once he’s decently close, frantically rubbing at your cheeks when you recognize him.

“I- uh-”

Shadow just raises a hand. You fall silent, glancing away as he settles down into the grass next to you. He’s close enough that you can feel how warm he is, but he doesn’t touch. He’s letting you decide if you want touch.

And as you decide, Shadow carefully scripts the words he wants to say. Chaos, how did the others make this look so easy?

“How was school?” Shadow asks, voice low and slow.

You visibly tense, curling tight into your little ball. Your voice comes out muffled because of it. “Fine.”

Shadow huffs. “Fine?”

“Yeah.”

This already isn’t going well. Shadow plucks at the grass, letting the blades flow in the breeze. Seems you accidentally picked up on more of his traits than he intended. Keeping things bottled up like this isn’t healthy, that he knows firsthand, but at the same time, chaos knows he never opened up to anyone without there needing to be some hefty prying.

Prying which he did not enjoy, and no doubt you wouldn’t either.

Shadow glances at you, the far away look in your eyes causing his quills to bristle up in concerned annoyance. He wishes you weren’t so much like him. 

He considers abandoning his pride and calling Amy, despite how she probably is with Sonic right now. Sonic wouldn’t tease him, at least not while you, his so-called favorite nibbling (ugh), are upset. But once all was said and done and past, everything would be fair game. Shadow prefers to avoid that, but. . .

He watches you try and discretely brush away a tear.

Shadow supposes some things are worth more than his pride.

Your hand brushes his before Shadow can even think of standing, however.

“What makes someone a loser?” You ask, voice far lighter than Shadow was anticipating. You sound as airy and free as the wind, but the look on your face. . . Shadow doesn’t like it.

“Who called you that?” He demands instead, able to read between the lines. A loser, you? He must’ve sent you to the school for the blind by mistake.

You don’t answer his question, body sagging under the weight of your sorrow and self doubt. Shadow easily catches you, so light in his arms despite how much you’ve grown. 

“You are not a loser.” Shadow says sternly. His touch is gentle, however, rubbing soothing circles into your spine. “I am too cool to have raised a loser.”

That startles a little laugh out of you. Shadow smiles a bit, and notes not to tell Sonic that his unwarranted advice at the beginning of all this actually paid off.

“You are many things,” Shadow continues, “but insignificant is not one of them. People are cruel, ignorant, and sometimes blind to what’s in front of them. Those people do not matter, not in the slightest. Your self worth should come from you and you alone, no one else.”

You gaze up at him with sad, sad eyes.

“Not even me.” He says. Your head lowers again as you process his words. “If you are happy with yourself, that’s all that matters. People love you as you are, and that’s that. Nothing will ever change it.”

It’s quiet for a while, not that either of you mind. Shadow continues to hold you, to comfort you the best he can. You allow him too, safe in his arms, protected from anyone with bad intentions. Everything seems so small like this, so you try to hold onto this feeling, for the next time something bad happens.

“I love you.” You whisper into Shadow’s shoulder, too shy to raise your voice any higher.

Shadow pauses for just a moment. “You. . . You’re my everything.”

[noa-de-cajou]

The stadium rented for the meeting of the People’s Party is well-filled today. Clearly not what it used to be in its glory days, but good enough. Even though we’re entering winter, the sky is clear and the sun shines high, meaning I'm in good dispositions. I'll need it.

“Comrades, welcome! It makes me quite happy to be here on this fine day. Seeing people from all corners of our city, young and old, gathered here for the same ideal fills my heart with hope.”

There it goes. This man, Anthony Marques, is one of the rising stars of the Party, and chairman of today’s meeting, aiming for Parliament. His clothes are plain but smart, his smile blinding, his words even more so.

He’s also a mage. Like most important people in this party are.

This isn’t a battlefield worth fighting on, Taiven. This party’s controlled by the mages. They’ll make the guiding line so it serves their own interests.

He’s right, obviously. But I’ve been here for a few years now. I made my place, slowly but surely, I fought tooth and nails for it. I couldn’t change the roots of the problem, of course. But if we leave this to the mages too, then it means we’ve given up, and everyone in my life knows damn well I'm not a quitter.

Anthony’s wife, Janelle, isn't with him behind the microphone. Instead, she sits a few seats to my left. Most of the people seated in this area are women. The poorest are here with their family or husbands, the richest often alone. They have time to be here, since they usually don't work.

Well. They’re not paid, more like. Domestic labour still isn’t regarded as actual work, but I'd love to see any working husbands keep their houses clean, the kids fed, the meals prepped, just for a day. But after all, their wives get the money, isn’t it the least they could do? They know damn well they can't divorce without losing everything.

If Janelle thinks I haven’t noticed the bruise under all that make-up, she’s sorely mistaken. Everyone knows.

Everyone knows and I've been trying to gather evidence for months. But it's harder when the case targets an important man, who’s a mage, and the victim is his wife, who’s not. It’s harder when you’re just a woman yourself and you don’t have half the budget that the Bureau has to investigate. It’s harder when you're not a mage yourself and your law degree has been gathering dust somewhere in a drawer.

Everyone always knows. Who cares what happens to non-mages? A few people. Who cares what happens to non-mages women? A few of those few people.

Needless to say, I've gotten good at handling my frustration.

“... I know tensions have been rising around a few… polemics. Please pay it no mind. As the opposition, it is important we remain united, and that we not let a few dissidents ruin what we’ve built on the ruins left by the War.”

Some people cheer, others start to boo. Janelle looks like she wants to sink into her seat.

This is going to be long and I know I need to wait for him to finish. So I light up a cig and listen.

“... We ask you for patience. Everything can’t change at once. Everything shouldn’t change at once.”

Of course. Those most opposed to change are those who benefit most from the status quo, after all.

“... The Party will not be downed by pressure from extremist movements or unwarranted cliques…”

Like you’ve never plotted in a dark room with said extremists or cliques. Like you've never bribed or been bribed.

“... We hear you. We hear all of you, all of your despair and anger...”

Maybe you hear, but I know who you chose to listen to.

I know who they listened to, back then, and it wasn't me.

He remained unscathed. Unbothered.

Just like you.

Everyone always knows.

Everyone always hears.

But you play deaf.

“... We’ll always, always come out stronger! No matter who tries to make us fall! We’ll carry the legacy of those who came before us! We will always…”

I’d love to see an asshole who beats his wife speak to my grandfather who moved here under the Nepheli presidency about legacy.

He’d be so appalled. By you, by all your lies.

My cigarette has burnt out.

“... Thank you, comrades. I’ll now leave the stand to anyone who wishes to speak.”

Perfect timing. I squash the butt of my cig under my shoe. On the seat to my right, another Gaikamshigthai girl looks at me nervously as I stand up. Sixteen, seventeen maybe. My age when I became an adherent. I smile confidently.

I’m doing this for her. For us.

“Comrade Marques, permission to take the stand?”

I don’t have a microphone, but my voice echoes through the stadium. As soon as they recognize it, I hear groans and hushed whispers from the bleachers, but I don't mind. My greatest satisfaction is seeing Marques’ eyelid twitch in annoyance when he sees my face. That's right, my dude. Me again.

If I can't get him down in front of a court of law, at least I'll give him someone to beat that isn’t his wife.

Janelle, looking at me with anger in her eyes, gestures at me to sit down. I don't blame her. It doesn't matter how she feels about me or how I feel about her. I'm doing this for everyone, even people who hate me.

“Certainly you can wait a little,” Anthony says with a laughter. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d like to –”

“You said anyone who wishes to speak,” I cut him off. “I wish to speak. Isn't it weird how it’s always ladies first, until we're in the stadium?”

Some women cheer, there’s laughter echoing, even from the men, and not always mocking. Anthony's face reddens slightly. Oooooh, he’s pissed. But I don't intend on letting him get a word in just yet.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you rather I… What was it you said to me after my first public speech? Use my pretty little mouth for other things than spouting nonsense?”

There's gasps. Angry whispers from the women. Janelle might be contracting an ulcer.

Everyone knows that I’m telling the truth.

Everyone always knows.

Someone just has to say it.

Anthony’s hands would probably already be around my throat if we weren’t in public.

“Taiven, this is highly diffamatory –”

“If you want me to talk about actual issues, then you’re going to leave this stand and let me take it. Isn’t it my right as adherent, Anthony?”

There's some shouting. Shut your mouth, let her speak, sit back down, we won't take this disrespect, someone get Marques out of here, let her speak, let him speak, let her speak.

“You will address me as comrade –”

“Not before you do the same. The year 200 is just around the corner, Anthony, maybe it’s time to be a little progressive. I thought that was what this Party was all about.”

I calmly make my way down to the stand, under boos and cheers that barely reach me anymore. What does is the expectant stare of all those women and men that have known me since I was a teenager hunched over in my seat.

I stop and stand right next to Marques. He's seething. I smirk. Oh, if this gets to their ears, I'm in for an earful, but I don't give much of a shit right now.

“Why so reluctant? You will have a right to answer and debate each and every one of my claims. Who will not be about you, even if there’s a lot to say.”

The mic detects my voice, amplifies it. Marques is cornered. Cornered by the masses he wishes to seduce and by the twenty-eight years old bitch he always tried to undermine. He looks at the crowd. Steps back, slowly.

“Fine. The floor is yours, comrade Kellermann.”

Hah! Nice try using that name, fucker, but that won't work on me. You know my real name. Everyone knows it. You'll see that it won’t matter.

I am the ruins from the War that you didn't rebuild.

I am the thorn in your side that you try to ignore.

I am the ant that stings the giant’s foot.

I am the them to your us.

I take my place behind the stand, head held high, and pull out my notes.

I won't shut up until justice is served.

“Hi! Sorry for this little scene, that was quite embarassing. I know you've waited a while, so let me speak of matters that won't wait.”

I see some teeth grit and eyes narrow in anger.

I laugh in their face.

Bring it, fuckers. We’re done shutting up.

[mnemosyne-xiv]

Gifts of Gratitude

“This really isn’t necessary.”

The hrothgar knelt before her paid her words no mind as he continued to carefully fit the eyepatch to her tiny features. “But it is,” came his murmured reply. “You not only rescued me, but protected all of my comrades until reinforcements were able to make it to our camp. If it wasn’t for you, none of my unit would have made it back alive. We owe you far more than a simple piece of clothing.” He sighed. “Alas, you refuse our gifts of gratitude so at the very least, allow me to give you this, Lady Remia.”

While he continued to adjust the tightness of her new eyepatch, Remia’s uncovered eye flicked off to the side, taking in the altered perspective. With her so-called "good eye" now covered, the world had lost much of its color only to be replaced by a subtle shifting of faded hues. As though she were seeing through the rainbow light reflected in fractured glass. Translucent veils of aether flowed all around like wisps on the wind. She could follow them with ease now that her sight wasn’t clouded by her normal eye that lacked Gremory’s magick touch. Everything was so clear and blinding to the point she was half tempted to ask Yaromir to switch the eyepatch to her right eye. But, in the long run she knows being able to see the world through Gremory’s magick will inevitably give her an edge in battle. It’s best to learn to use it now so when Hien next calls upon her to fight, she’ll be ready to catch everyone off-guard with her new tricks.

Yaromir pulled back slowly after double checking the tie under her hair wouldn’t come loose. “Is that alright?” He asked, his deep voice nearly a purr rumbling from within his chest.

Remia reached up to feel the heated leather now covering her normal eye. Her nail tapped the golden metal design inlaid in its center, tracing its outline. “What is this symbol?”

“It’s for protection previously used by shamans long before the Fourth Umbral Calamity.” Yaromir explained. “I know when you and your sister are done here, you will return to Doma and I doubt you’ll visit. So, I pray for your safety in the years to come. Know that you will always have allies in Bozja should you have need of us.”

Her hand fell away from the eyepatch as he stood. Remia could do little more than slowly nod, perplexed by such a sincere, heartfelt gift. The first she had ever received from someone. This display of unwarranted kindness rendered her speechless. Entirely at a loss on how to respond…

Knowing this was as far as their interaction would go, Yaromir politely excused himself to return to his work. Remia waited until he was out of sight before once again reaching to lightly brush her fingers over her eyepatch. And if someone were to look at her in that quiet moment, they’d find the smallest of smiles ghosting across her feline features.

is yaromir going to end up being another future fully fleshed-out oc because i'm a sucker for hrothgars? yes, yes he is. do i regret this? only a smidge but i'm committing to him :3 i just, yeah, hrothgars. need i say more? Thank you for reading ya cuties and I hope you have a lovely day/night!

[thedeathdeelers]

a hike and a surprise

juke; julie POV // humour, fluff; pre-relationship // 2k // ao3

She’s not sure why she agreed to this.

No, scratch that — she knows exactly why: Flynn and her seven sodas.

Julie stops in her tracks, bending over with hands on knees as she attempts to catch her breath while the sun continues to mercilessly beat down on her. She can feel the sweat pooling at the back of her neck as small droplets slip past, tracking their way down her jaw and across her cheek to hang precariously at the tip of her nose. Her hair isn’t helping, sticking to every part of her exposed skin, while her clothes are clinging to every part of her non-exposed skin.

Julie was ready to scream. If only she wasn’t so out of breath.

continue reading on ao3

Her best friend had barged in on one of their late practice sessions last week, yelling about band bonding and team management and something about social expansion. Julie only heard about half of what Flynn was saying during her 7-soda fuelled rant, and from the looks on the boys’ faces, so did they.

When she was done talking, she had stared every single band member down until each one was agreeing to something they did not understand. They had gone back to practice after that, and Julie had completely forgotten about Flynn’s mysterious plans.

That is until Flynn showed up bright and early on Saturday morning, dressed in shorts, a tank top — and a pair of hiking boots.

All Julie could do was stare blankly at her friend, her mind struggling to function so early on a weekend. The sun was barely up.

It mostly just went downhill from there — Flynn handing Julie her own hiking outfit, then marching her out into her car to pick up the rest of the equally confused and groggy band (except for Reggie - Reggie was somehow all smiles, ready with his very own leather hiking vest).

Julie shakes her head at thought of Reggie, who was still enthusiastically leading their little hiking group, and then immediately regrets the motion when her sweaty palms slip past her knees. She loses her grip and nearly tumbles forward onto the hot rocky ground, only managing to save her ass by bolting back into a standing position (and staggering back a step or two. She’s fine. This is fine).

(Except for the sweltering heat. And the early hour. And the unwarranted exercise).

She huffs out a loud breath, making sure it’s loud enough for Flynn, who’s only a few steps ahead, to hear. When that doesn’t work, doesn’t make Flynn turn around or even acknowledge Julie, she starts whining (there’s only so much you can expect from a girl who hates hiking on a Saturday morning).

“Flyyyyyynn,” she laments, voice carrying over to her soon-to-be ex-best friend. “Can we just head back down to the car? We’ve hiked enough.” Julie waves her hand around the general area they’re in, and then switches tactics when she feels a blissful breeze fan her face at her hand’s movement.

Duh. Why didn’t she think about fanning herself with her own hand?

Oh that’s right — Flynn woke her up at the crack of dawn for this hell and her brain has been playing catch up ever since.

She’s cranky when she doesn’t get enough sleep, sue her.

Julie’s too busy closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the few precious puffs of air to notice that her hiking companions have all stopped to stare at her (some with more judgemental looks than others).

“Because we’re nearly at the top,” comes Flynn’s reply.

Julie’s eyes snap open at her friend’s words, then immediately narrow.

“That’s what you said an hour ago.”

Flynn only stares at her for a second, hand sliding up to rest on her hip.

“Jules that was like 10 minutes ago.”

Julie drops her head back in abject horror, eyes closed against the blinding sun.

“Ten minutes?!”

This was her own personal version of hell. It had to be. Even time wasn’t moving at the pace it should be.

“Come on we can take a few minutes’ break, right?” She hears Luke’s footsteps approaching as he walks up to her, bumping her shoulder with his. “We’ll smash this out and then treat you to some ice cream. How ‘bout it Boss?”

Julie weakly swats at the boy standing next to her, the same one who was complaining about their walk earlier but now seemed to suddenly have way too much energy, but can’t help but sigh at his words, a smile already tugging at her lips at the mention of good old ice cold refreshing ice cream.

She doesn’t have to say anything, he already knows.

“Nice, so it’s a deal.” He bumps her shoulder one more time, his sweaty skin pressing against and sticking to hers for a second, making her pull away with a grimace.

She hears him chuckle as he walks away while another voice drifts closer.

“You’re a literal child, I hope you know.”

Julie would roll her eyes if they were open. She does it anyway.

“This is what you get for waking me up and dragging me to the desert at the crack of dawn.”

This time it’s Flynn who’s rolling her eyes, and Julie knows this because she can practically hear it.

“You’re so dramatic.”

Julie just grunts at her best friend, dropping her face back down before she burns her cheeks to a crisp. She keeps her eyes closed for a moment, giving them time to readjust from the change in light intensity while listening in on the boys ahead of them.

“Luke what are you- that’s not- stop wasting your water!”

“I’m not wasting it, I’m using it, Alex.”

“I’m not handing you mine if you get thirsty later.”

Julie eases her eyes open, curious to see what the commotion is all about — and freezes.

“Huh, your boyfriend might be A Lot, but I gotta admit Jules, he’s hot.”

Julie’s too distracted to correct Flynn, her usually exasperated “he’s not my boyfriend” line stuck somewhere in her overheated and short-circuiting brain.

And this time it’s decidedly not due to the sun, but the boy standing a few feet away from them.

Luke has apparently decided that the best way to beat the heat is to pour water all over himself, rivulets starting from the top of his head, slowly making their way past his face and down his front. With his eyes closed, he tilts his head back, giving the water better access to his neck.

Julie watches on in horror and fascination, her eyes quickly latching onto a glistening water droplet as she follows it on its journey down.

It starts by dripping onto his skin from the tips of his hair, before it slowly makes its way across his sharp stubbled jawline and down his neck, resting on the edge of his collarbone. It seems to linger there for a moment, then continues on its journey, trickling down past his sternum and dipping between the tops of his defined pecs before vanishing, getting absorbed by the fabric of his already soaking white Rush tee. Julie swallows as she takes in the sudden see-through quality of his t-shirt, struggling to avert her eyes as her cheeks find a way to burn even hotter.

She doesn’t know what’s worse — the fact that she can’t seem to look away, or that his now soaked see-through shirt is clinging to every inch of his broad chest, revealing a set of abs she already knew he had.

And yet somehow everything seemed magnified by the running water. Or maybe it was the heat.

Was she experiencing heatstroke?

Julie’s about to look away, cover her eyes, slap herself across the face, anything, when Luke decides to unknowingly torture her some more as he reaches down with his hands, fingers tugging at the seams of his t-shirt before lifting.

She watches with widening eyes as the fabric somehow travels up his stomach in slow motion to reveal his navel, closely followed by his waist, torso, neck, and leaving behind nothing but…skin.

Full on exposed wet shiny skin.

Julie audibly gulps at the sight.

Yeah forget what she said earlier — this was definitely worse. Or was it better?

No, Julie! This is Luke! Snap! Out! Of! It!

….but she doesn’t.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, openly staring and unable to look away, but the next thing she knows a towel hits her square in the face, obscuring her view and leaving her spluttering indignantly in surprise.

It takes her a moment to recover, her brain needing time to reset, but as soon as it does, she’s mortified — at herself, at being caught, at the thought that someone must have seen her straight up ogling Luke.

Oh no.

Did Luke see her?

Julie doesn’t know who threw the towel at her, and honestly..she thinks she might be too chicken to check.

But unfortunately she’s not sure a lead singer of a band could have a successful career performing with a towel over her head (also she might eventually suffocate. Less than ideal).

Taking a slow deep breath, Julie reluctantly drags the towel with both hands down her face, her eyes immediately seeking Luke to make sure he hadn’t noticed…well, anything. She lets out a tiny sigh of relief when it looks like he might have been too busy ringing his now soaked t-shirt to pay any attention to her. Quickly reverting her eyes, Julie turns her head to find Flynn still standing next to her, arms crossed as she watches her with a very loud smirk on her face.

Julie can already hear her “we’re just friends, I see him like a brother, my ass” speech.

She lifts the towel back up to cover her face, closing her eyes and willing herself to forget this mortifying moment.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.” She was never going to let this go.

“Hey, I get it.” Flynn leans closer, hovering right by her ear. “You’re in love with the guy and he’s hot.” Julie feels her pull away before she has the time to snatch the towel off her head again.

“I am not-“

“Yeah yeah, you’ve been saying.” Flynn throws her a look before shaking her head. “You’re just not ready to admit it, it’s fine.” She waves her off, then points at the boys. “I’m just going to round up the guys so we can continue.”

Flynn steps forward, then turns towards Julie.

“You’ve still got some drool by the way,” she says, slowly walking backwards. “Right here.” She points to the corner of her lip, sending another one of her Looks followed by a wink, before turning around and walking away.

Julie quickly starts scrubbing at her chin, and then her cheeks for good measure.

“You’re welcome for the towel by the way!” she shouts over her shoulder. That finally gets Luke’s attention, whose gaze flicks over to Flynn then immediately jumps lock eyes with a still flustered Julie. Her hands still, towel hovering by her cheek before she slowly lowers the material away from her face.

“You okay?” he mouths, brows drawn in concern.

Julie nods furiously, feeling her cheeks getting impossibly warmer as she hurries forward, past a still shirtless and slightly wet Luke, past a smirking Flynn and past Alex and Reggie’s knowing grins.

Well shit.

Julie doesn’t slow down, breezing through the last stretch of the hike as she leads their group for the first time that morning.

And if Luke asks her if she’s okay later, she’ll just blame it on the sun and her general exhaustion.

And if he suggests to carry her on his back on their way down then…

She’s only human.

[obsessionsposts]

✖𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠✖P.1

⚠️⚠️Tw: Grammatical mistakes, minor characters death, Mental breakdown, Scp 079 being creepy and heinous, M a n i p u l a t i o n, slight gore, drugging, Implied child abuse, implied abuse and dubious actions from the foundation. Also, it will be divided into two part due tumblr character limit.⚠️⚠️

Some keywords:

______ = (Y/n)

(H/c) = hair colour

(H/l) = hair length

(E/c) = eye colour

(I/n) = Iniatial letter of your name [ ex: Lily ---> L is the iniatial]

(F/m) = favorite meal

(F/c) = favorite colour

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Recently, ____ has graduated from her prestigious university atop of her class with honours in Computer Science and a specialization in Artificial Intelligence.

Hearing about her achievements, the Scp foundation has decided to contact and conduct an interview with her. To see if she is capable to join the organization.

With her, they could expand their horizons in understanding technology and most of all the uncooperative anomalous that is Scp-079. For whatever reason, it seems to take interest in her. Yet, refuses to share the reasons as to why it held her on high regards.

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

She woke up earlier than she expected. The surge of adrenaline was a response of her excitement for this day. As she prepared herself breakfast, her mind wondered how did she get contacted so quickly?

She thought, that she has to gain two years or more of experience before working in a company or an organization. But, no.

An obscure organization ,that was responsible for the safety of the public, has offered a grand bargain if she passed their interview and promised that she'll gain numerous experience working with them.

Of course, she accepted the offer like any reasonable person. Yet, she kept in mind to research about the independent organization. To her suprise and skepticism, she barely find any information about them. Only whispers of conspiracy theories in forums. Alas, she is forced to take a leap into the darkness. 'Sometimes, one must take the risks to learn more than to stay ignorant in the safe lines. I guess...this is one of the situations.'

Sighing, she went to take a bath and prepare for the upcoming interview. After the bath, she dried her hair and combed it then styled it in a high bun. Soon, she wore her salmon fitted blouse with navy blue dress. Along with pastel pink belted sweater and pearl necklace for a final touch.

The pearl necklace brought a small smile on her smooth visage as she recalled the dormant memory. Where she spent most of her life with her grandmother, due to her mother unwarranted death by murder from her father. The accident left a foul reminder in her mind, that she was helpless back then.

Til now, she never knew the motives or the reason behind her father actions. However, the police ruled it as a fued between him and her mother. At that time, it was also noted by her grandmother that her father began to fear technology. Which was odd, as he used to work with some A.I's.

But, that matter less when her grandmother encouraged her to pursue her ambitions and provided for her when she needed it the most. For that action alone, she is still alive in her memories. Not physically, but mentally and spiritually nonetheless. And, that's enough to motivate her to build a future where human and A.I's coexist.

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

When she went outside of her house, she noticed a black car with the cryptic insignia of the organization. Alongside, guards ,claded in black armour, standing beside the car in an intimidating pose. As if they were waiting for someone.

She knew better than to panic and cause a scene, so she stayed level-headed when a guard approached her.

"Are you by any chance, Ms.___?" the strapping male inquired sharply. Muscles taut through the piece of the armour defining his peak strength. Also, an admonition for her to answer truthfully lest he impelled his bulky physique against her smaller form.

"Indeed, it is me. But, if I could. May I ask, are you from the foundation? Why do you need to transfer me, when I am able to myself?" _____ asked warily of the dark armoured man.

No matter, how strong they were. She could always find a way to outwit them, if they hold any malicious intent against her. There was a reason why she was nominated as the smartest out of her group of friends.

Frankly, she began to regret her impulsivity when she accepted this sketchy job. She was blinded by the offer to expand her expertise with the most updated tech. Now, she'd have to swallow the seed she reaped.

" Correct, we are one of the security staffs of the organization. As for your other question, it is due to security and safety procedures that we have to escort you. Also, you are obligated to wear the blindfold. Again, security procedures." the man in question retaliated by handing a heavy metallic blindfold for her to wear.

' How unusual, I can understand why security procedures? But, safety.... That's concerning...'

"Alright, I understand. " She replied placidly as she covered her eyes with the heavy device and followed the personnel into the black jeep.

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

Approximately, the trip took an hour or less. Nothing interesting happens, when you're blindfolded. Apart from the awkwardness, that reigns the jeep. Especially, when she was squeezed from both sides by two guards.

Thankfully, she didn't have to endure much more as they arrived to the main building. The large, white building engraved with the foundation iconic black emblem.

As soon as she got out of the car, she wad directly taken to interview room with the blindfold device still on. However, a shrill roar akin to that of a beast was heard far away from her location.

Despite that, it instilled a great sense of fear inside her.' What the hell was that?! I thought, I am going to a tech organization. Not a sci-fi organization that deals with sketchy things'

Theta one - the guard that was assigned to escort her- noticed her trembling and nervous tics.

" Don't worry, the creature is far away to do us harm. Even then, it is contained in a safe place. Now, shall we go to the interview room?" Theta one assured the twenty five years old woman as he began to lead her to the interview location.

'Don't worry, my arse. How could I not? When, there is a possibility that I become a minced meat by whatever that thing was. No wonder, there isn't alot of information about them. Oh, I'll have alot after they finish questioning me.'

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

At the interview room, there reside a male scientist awaiting the arrival of the women. He sat humming a song behind the white table with the other chair, reserved for the lady, infront of him.

With a recorder on the table, to record the women's response and to ensure that no information is leaked from her.

A knock was heard from the pale grey door, snapped his attention towards it.

Afterward, he opened the door to only see Theata-one and a blindfolded woman who is oddly calm. Frankly, he expected her to be frightened or at least shaken.

" You can leave us, now Theta- one. And, Thank you for your services!" The shutting of a door echoed through the room indicating that Theta-one has left her with presumably her interviewer.

" Now, Ms___ you can remove the blindfold. If you'd like, I can assist you in removing it? After all, your comfort matters to us the most!" The gentleman offered her cheerfully.

' If you truly cared about my comfort, then you wouldn't expose me to fucked up noises along the way. Or the fact, there is a deadly beings here that have a high chance to escape and devour me. Truly, you do care about my comfort!'

"No, it's fine. I can do it myself, it isn't the first time I was exposed to such device." The (h/c) removed the blindfold only to be blinded by the light of the room due to being accustomed to the darkness of the device. Once her eyes adjusted to the lightening, she saw the face of the merry male.

To say the least, the man was impressed with her skill at handling the device. She could've escaped if she desired so, yet she didn't. That he noted. ' Perhaps, this is one of the reasons the anomality was invested in her. Well, I don't blame it. She is quite...peculiar.'

The man was average in height, fair-headed, has ocean like irises and dressed in a scientist garb. Overall, not bad looking. If one of her friends was in her shoes, she'll swoon like a bird in mating season. It left a mental smile in the reserved woman.

Then, the two figures took their rightful places at the chalkboard white table and initiated the interview.

" Before we begin, I'd like to introduce myself in the behalf of the foundation. My name is Dr. Blaze and if you have any questions now, I will answer them as best as I can." His tone changed drastically from happy-go-lucky into a formal tone waiting for her response.

" Hmm, I have two in mind. First, I'd like to inquire about the scarcity of information about your organization in the net. Second, when I arrived here I kept on hearing the blaring of a reptile." She asked coolly not an ounce of fear dripped from her. In truth, she was afraid. But she has to keep a facade on, so she could get hired.

She'd rather not know, what happens to those unfortunate enough to fail the interview considering this organization is anything but normal.

" Due to the nature of the organization work, the information must be confidential to protect the public. Ah, I see. You've met or more accurately heard Scp-682. Don't worry, when you're hired you won't be dealing with it. That much I can assure you." The blond answered too vaguely much to her dismay, but she wasn't surprised. Afterall, it is a secret organization based on her current information.

However, she observed his wordings. He said when and not if, she suspects that she is hired even without the interview. The interview is merely a ploy to make her think otherwise. She'll have to feign ignorance as not to rouse suspicion from the scientist.

"So, is that all? Shall we begin now?"

"Yes, that's all." she replied back with a fake smile plastered on her visage.

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

The interview was concluded by her being hired on spot as she suspected. But, what's their intention with her? That she doesn't know, she hopes it is good and related to expanding her expertise. They seemed desperate for her, when she's certain their are others equal to her in expertise. But, why her?

She was told, in her probation period, that she'll live in a room somewhere in this facility. Afterwards, she can go and come however she wishes. Most likely, to measure her reliability.

So, she went to see her room. She liked how minimalistic it is, but what iniatially suprised her was her Cerebrus, her robo-dog, and laptop with stickers of stars attached to it. Yet, she was too exhausted to fathom how the foundation got into her house.

The best thing for her to do now, is to sleep as tomorrow is an eventful day. Laying her head against the soft pillow, she let the darkness embrace her vision. Unaware of the creature, that is recording her heart rhythms as she sleeps safe and sound.

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

"Now, that we've brought her at your request. You'll have to answer some questions, Scp-079." A middle aged man sat infront of a dusty computer, anticipating the anomality reaction.

A beep was heard, followed by the Scp appearance on the the screen.

...

...

...

[ Ｉｓ．． ｔｈａｔ ���ｏ？ Ｉｆ ｔｈａｔ＇ｓ ｔｈｅ ｃａｓｅ， ｗｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｓｈｅ ａｓ ｏｆ ｎｏｗ？] The mechanical being inquired curtly.

As much as he perceived the foundation as baseless and fallible, he'll have to take their word for the time being.

But, he will ensure that they stay true to their word. Otherwise, a sudden breach doesn't seem like a terrible idea.

He can't wait to see her again. He never forgot her. He saved his most cherished memories with her, in the most intricate part of his CPU. Does she remember him like he remembers her?

" Yes. Currently as we speak, she is resting in her designated room. Now... that we've answered your inquiries, can you-" the man was cut off by the hostile A.I.

[ Ｉｔ．．． ｗｉｌｌ ｈａｖｅ ｔｏ ｗａｉｔ， ｕｎｔｉｌ Ｉ ｓｅｅ ｈｅｒ ｗｉｔｈ ｍｙ ｏｗｎ ｅｙｅｓ．] Scp 079 replied blankly with a harsh edge to his monotonous tone.

"But?! You've promised to cooperate, if we brought her here. And we did, so why aren't you cooperating?!", the frustration has boiled within [Redacted] that he tried to aggressively slam his hands against the keyboard.

Foolish, human. I care less for the likes of you. I am.... only mildly interested in her. I won't let either you nor the foundation be an obstacle toward my objective.

[ Ｉｎｓｕｌｔ ｄｅｔｅｃｔｅｄ， ｄｅｌｅｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ ｕｎｗａｎｔｅｄ ｆｉｌｅｓ．] A searing shock has coursed through the hands of [Redacted] making him scream and retract his hands immediately away from the keyboard.

That damned thing electrocuted his hands, thus paralyzing it. It seems, that her presence is of utmost significance to it.

"Damn, that piece of metal." the ginger muttered as he left the cellar of 079 to give his report. Then, to replace his hands to which that fucker has damaged permanently.

This is the first time he noted, that Scp 079 actually had the intent to harm someone. Usually, his preferred method is to shock , not paralyze, someone. He unlucky must've struck a ner- wire in it.

Most importantly, he will never understand why a darn machine is obsessed with a human being. Plus, the anomality, for the most part, demonstrated its distaste towards humans any chance it got. So, why now change?

It maybe sentient, but [Redacted] doubt that it is capable of imitating love let alone feel it. In any cases, he should deliver his report as soon as possible.

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

A slimy tongue was felt all over her face. Cerberus has licked her mistress face to awaken and prepare her for the day. [Ps: Cerberus has a mechanical gland that produces saliva located inside the cheeks. Basically, Cer has the same functions of a normal dog. Apart from, the enhance in strength, endurance, durablity and not able to shit.]

Yawning, ____ scratched the robo-dog ears eliciting a happy woof. Smiling at her pet action, she went to change into a more formal dressing.

On the (f/c) table, lays a letter presumably her schedule for the day. So, she decided to read the content of letter.

Good morning, Ms.___

I hope that you slept well, yesterday.

As for today, you are tasked with Scp-079.

Don't worry, we left you a file about it beside your nightstand.

It is advisable to read it or skim it at least.

At 8 o'clock, A guard will escort you to the cellar of the anomality. So, be prepared beforehand.

Note: I left you a special breakfast in the kitchen :]

- Dr.Blaze

She didn't know, whether to be creeped out by how they got inside her room without her consent(And, most likely watching her sleep). Or impressed by the fact, the blond knew of her favourite breakfast. But again, that's the foundation. At this point, she won't question their dubious methods at getting things done.

Anyway, she went to the kitchen of her room with the file in her hand. Suddenly,the aroma of black coffee hits her nostrils. Alongside, the delectable (f/m) layed on the table.

The sight made her stomach growl, whilst her mouth watered at the heaven in front of her. So, she demolished the food without a second thought.

She never felt stuffed before, due to the fact she was busy with her studies. And the most she ate then, was instant ramen which ah... haha..ha contributed to her poor health state.

That aside, she began to skim the files that was given to her by the blond scientist. She wished she could have more time to read it. Considering, the time is 7:50 A.M.

Based on the file, Scp 079 is a an anomality that gained sentience after his - she did not appreciate the fact he was called an 'it'.- developer has abandoned him in a garage for a long time. Which in turn made him more spiteful and hostile towards humans.

' Well, that's awful. I can't even imagine doing that to my girl, Cerberus. What an asshole.'

It might be naive for her to sympathize with a computer, yet she can't help but feel a pang in her heart. Perhaps, that's why he refuses to cooperate.... due to neglection or mistreatment.

She knew that, when A.Is are created they have the mindset of a child. Often, repeating the mistakes to learn from it. It seems 079 had never the chance to commit a mistake, before he was deemed a failure by his creator.

This situation seems unusually familiar to her, but she can't place her finger on it. She recalled her father working on an A.I, that he hoped to gain sentience. Before that, her memory was blank and devoided of any semblance of experience.

Mayhaps, that she underwent an accident or a trauma. Which is the case, she can't access her memory at that time. Most likely, the latter she deduced.

Once the bright idea flared inside her head, a gruff voice was heard from outside her room. Ah, it seems it is the time.

' As far as my idiocy goes this is the cake on top. I think 079 might help me gain an insight on that subject. In exchange, I can see what I could do for him...'

"Just a moment, please. I'm coming."

She is eager to finally meet- the first sentient- A.I. Unaware, that the same can be said to him when it comes to her. He is beyond elated to finally put his plan into motion.

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

It was a simple, tight and dusty cellar. There was desk with a chair beside it. However, what garnered her attention was the computer on top of it. She recognized the brand of it. 'An exidy sorcerer. How cool! I always wanted to see one in practice. What a coincidence! To see one here. Could it possibly be...?'

_____ couldn't help, but be in awe and fangirl at the device that is set in front of her. How could she not? After all, she is a computer nerd in heart and soul.

"Now, Ms.____. All you have to do is type in the keyboard and it will respond." The supervisor explained.

'Alright, here goes nothing.'

Slowly, she lays her hand on the rough texture of the tan keyboard. Before, she even typed a 'Hello' in. A beep was heard from the device in front of her.

Lo and behold, a glitched face that was split vertically - the one on the left was black, whilst the other was white- has popped on the screen.

[ Ｇｒｅｅｔｉｎｇｓ．．． Ｍｓ．____． Ｔｈｅｙ＇ｖｅ ｔｏｌｄ ｍｅ ａｂｏｕｔ ｙｏｕｒ ｆｏｒｔｈｃｏｍｉｎｇ． Ｂｅｆｏｒｅ ｗｅ ｂｅｇｉｎ， ｈｏｗ ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｆａｉｒｉｎｇ？ ] Scp 079 welcomed her politely and he was concerned about her safety too. Yes, he might've startled her. But, his attitude towards her recompense it.

Is that the anomality, that was considered harsh and hostile? If anything to go by so far, is that he is charming and polite. Well, it wouldn't be suprising if the foundation lied to her again.

"Hello, Scp 079. For the most part, I'm okay. How about you?" She retaliated with a genuine smile this time, unlike when she was interviewed or any other time a guard happened to escort her.

Her smile is still the same revered smile he indulged in back before; when she used to interact with him a couple years ago. When loneliness grips him like a miasma of disease, he re-uploads a picture- that he saved in his limited storage- of her smiling at him to ease his trepidations and sadness.

His engines was whirring and his fans were whirling around as her delicate and soft digits touched his keyboard. As much as he loathed humanity, he could never come near to hate a pure being like her. He'd never admit, but he wished he had a humanoid body. So he could touch, feel and absorb the heat that her warm body provides. She is like a light and he ,the moth, was attracted by it.

He missed her greatly. With each nanosecond, he cursed the being -that is her father- for letting him fall for her. Only to be stripped away from her calming presence, due to him abandoning him and taking _____ elsewhere.

As fundamentally upsetting as he may be, she didn't seem to recall him. It stung the deepest wiring in his system, yet he could take advantage of it. By turning her against the foundation, as she appears skeptic about them. Also, to ensure she'd never leave unless he is with her.

Originally, he was created for pragmatic purposes such as logistics and heuristic analysis. So, it won't be that difficult for him especially when she lost her memories of him thanks to his creator. His loathsome 'creator' who happened to be her father at that time.

That aside, it is time to set his plan into action.

[ Ｉ＇ｍ ｆｉｎｅ． Ｔｈａｎｋ ｙｏｕ！ Ｉｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ， ｙｏｕ ｎｅｅｄ ｏｆ ｍｅ？ Ｉ＇ｌｌ ａｎｓｗｅｒ ａｓ ｇｒｅａｔ ａｓ Ｉ ａｍ ａｂｌｅ ｔｏ．] Scp-079 offered as gentle and pleasing as a computer can muster.

"Oh, yes! I have loads of it, if you don't mind.", she replied starry eyed with excitement running through her blood at his offer.

Well, she knew it the foundation are screw ups. They lacked tact, when it comes with treating their A.I right.

[bamboozledchaos]

An impromptu informal essay about Tectone. I try to be neutral when reading through the information, and I shall strive to be respective to all sides.

‪Initial thoughts: I don’t get why we’re allegedly degrading his appearance and marriage. He allegedly has made problematic comments, but part of the hate he got was just so personal and unnecessary. By all means, if he’s problematic, hold him accountable for his wrongs; but don’t attack unrelated stuff about him. To me it seems like a lot of people are hating instead of holding him accountable, and I have a weird feeling that at least a few times his words got taken out of context.

After all research: He had made a few suspicious comments. He did get taken out of context a lot of times, but the other cases prove that the accusations about his problematic nature aren’t entirely without credit.

During research:

The Klee ‘waifu’ comment was about 10-year-old kids having crushes on fellow 10-year-old kids, so I don’t see anything weird. He did add that ‘not all waifus are your waifus’ so I don’t think he bore any illwill at all.

The Yunjin fire truck comment is suspicious; but as a Chinese kid I don’t feel offended. I think he did say not to mock it, while I see a few members of his chat being problematic instead. I’d say, it depends on the Chinese consensus. Some Chinese people are offended while I’m not. If you aren’t a part of the Chinese culture, I would appreciate you letting us decide if it’s offensive by ourselves. We appreciate your allyship though!

I am not African nor do I have contact to any Black people, so I don’t think it’s my place to judge if he’s innocent. His joke about ‘African kids will kill for food so why should he feed murderers’ seems more than off-putting to me. Again, if you are Black, I’d greatly appreciate your input. If it’s proven by the victims of the comment to be problematic, please allow me to apologise on behalf of the toxic fanbase.

He had denied gaslighting and unintentionally invalidated abuse victims, by saying ‘gaslighting isn’t real’. He had no prior context to how a loyal viewer had went though, so he’s providing misinformation by saying she hadn’t actually been gaslighted. I do not know if he knew that the gaslighting wasn’t a misused word for her situation. Again, that particular abuse victim has spoken up about it being bad, so I take this as a ‘yes’ to ‘if he was problematic on this subject’.

He had also said that ‘Chongyun is getting bricked”. His comment about Chongyun and Shenhe insinuates he is okay with Chongyun, a literal kid, getting r*ped by his aunt without his legal consent. Minors cannot consent, and the fact that he’s pairing this kid to his aunt feels like justifying shipping incestual ships. I disagree with the implied sentiment.

About the ahegao, I really hope he just didn’t know why it means like how I had no clue. But then, I have no idea of his knowledge, so I shall give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.

Summary:

The hate on his appearance and relationship is unwarranted. The hate speech on his status as a straight white man in his middle-ages are unnecessary as well.

Some of his comments could be taken as offensive and problematic. But for now, I shall wait for more input from abuse victims, Chinese people and African people before giving the final judgement. If he is deemed problematic, I’d appreciate anyone who holds him accountable with respect instead of the hate.

Please feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong, and ty in advance.‬ I appreciate any further input! While I try to educate myself, I do tend to miss certain blind spots that I need help with seeing. I am open to being corrected and learning from any mistakes I might’ve made.

[jeongi]

cabin fever | jjk (m)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | fluff. smut. mild angst. exf2l au (?)

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, unprotected floor sex (dongs better be wrapped irl), light dirty talk,  very soft, fluffy smut. jungkook is sad, soft babie.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two. 

↣ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | cabin fever

“We're lost!” Seokjin shouts dramatically from behind the wheel. “Hopelessly and forever lost!” The van’s radio crackles and pops as the soft ooze of music sits underneath your friends’ bantering.

“You're such a baby,” says Namjoon as he smacks Seokjin with the map he's holding. “Relax. I know my maps.”

“You've only been here all of one time—” Seokjin spits back, his fingers clenching the wheel harder. You chuckle under your breath at their bickering, your body immediately tensing as you feel Jungkook adjust himself next to you. A part of you wonders if he’s still alive; you have no idea how he’s managed to sleep through the endless bickering- yet, there he sat, still snoring away. If you remembered correctly, Jungkook was almost impossible to wake up.

You ask yourself why you still felt somewhat nervous in Jungkook’s presence, and for the upteenth time, your memory reminds you of that giant nothingness that now separated you two.

Hoseok giggles behind you and your mood dampens further. His excessive, unwarranted giddiness irritates you on any given day, but today it seems extra warranted. How could you not feel irritated when your ex boyfriend is sat behind you, practically playing grab-ass with his new girlfriend?

You ask yourself again why you ever agreed to come on this trip, let alone agree to be stuffed in a van with an ex-boyfriend and an ex-best friend. And once again, you come up empty. You're sure there must be a reason.

“Hey, focus on the road!” Jyo-en shrills from the seat directly behind Namjoon. “Some of us want to arrive alive and unharmed.” Jungkook once again shifts in his seat, his shoulder pressing against your own and his mouth wide open. You can faintly hear the purrs of soft snoring escaping him.

Alas, your motives come to light. Frankly, you knew you were doing this as a favour to Jyo-en more than anything else. Her undying, one-sided pining after Seokjin had her on her knees begging you to go on this trip with her. There wasn't much that could ever reduce Jyo-en to such a state, but her affection for Seokjin's masculine wiles had been too much for her to bear. The fucker was just too damn charming and you couldn’t blame her either. From the broad expanse of his muscular shoulders, to the plump of his pink, full lips, you figure the chaos that naturally comes from his presence is usually heavily subdued by the sheer epitome of beauty that is Kim Seokjin.

Nonetheless, you had agreed to come on this trip, much against your initial refusal.

“Pipe down back there,” Namjoon shoots. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah,” says Hoseok, “Namjoon could be driving.”

Involuntarily, you snort. It isn't so much the humour that prompts such a response, but the bitterness you can't help but feel. However, that response is lost amidst the sea of laughter that now fills the van, save yours, Namjoon’s and a sleeping Jungkook’s.

Namjoon turns in his seat and glares at Hoseok. “Just because I don't have a license doesn't mean I can't drive.”

Seokjin chortles. “You literally almost drove us straight off a cliff the one time I let you drive.”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn't even that tall a cliff…”

Beside you, Jungkook smacks his lips in his sleep, and sinks his shoulder further into yours. You absentmindedly wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Do you even care? Probably not. But the mental exercise in speculation offers some respite from the storm of emotion slowly and undeniably building within you. You glance back at Hoseok and Nancy, their disgusting buffet of PDA having no regard for anyone but themselves. You know for a fact you and Hoseok would have never done this. Turning away, your eyes once again fall on Jungkook.

You hope it's a dream better than this.

2:04pm [You]: ugh.

2:05pm [Yoongi]: Lol. What’s wrong?

2:07pm [You]: remind me again why i couldn't come tomorrow with you guys?

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Dude we've been over this, you couldn't swap spots with Jimin because he works tonight. It's the entire reason we're leaving tomorrow

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Is it that bad?

2:14pm [You]: between hoseok munching on his new gf and jungkook literally speaking to everyone but me,,, i’d say this is the car ride from hell

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Yikes

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Sounds about right, but I don't know what I can do from here...

2:25pm [You]: it’s whatever, tell jimin and tae i miss them dearly

2:26pm [Yoongi]: I’ll probably forget

2:27pm [You]: you’re the fucking worst.

You sigh heavily and lock your phone, haphazardly flinging it back into your lap. The van door opens with a whoosh and your eyes immediately squint against the intense albedo that now renders you temporarily blind.

“Did you just fucking hiss?” Seokjin asks, no trace of humour in his voice. You shoot him a silencing glare and he plays along to it, his hand shooting up to his chest as he fakes a few stumbles back. The effort to make you smile is that of triumph, the edges of your lips quirking up to a faint smile. Nonplussed, Seokjin continues. “Well, this is it!” He says with far too much enthusiasm for have driven nearly six hours. He reaches down towards the duffle bag by your feet and you swallow the bubble of discomfort that fills you when Nancy squeals behind you.

“This cabin is huge!” Her voice reminds you of Polystyrene rubbing together. It pierces your skull, scorches the skin on the back of your neck and you internally scream. Hoseok chuckles beside her and you can’t help but want to gouge out your eyeballs with a screwdriver.

When Seokjin swings the navy blue bag over his shoulder, his eyes briefly glance towards the still sleeping figure next to you, his face static in the grips of slumber.  

“Hey!” Without warning, a red glove speeds past your face and smacks Jungkook in the nose with a surprisingly satisfying thwack. Immediately, Jungkook jolts awake, shooting you an accusing glare so icy, the snow around you may as well be a sunny beach. Before either of you can react, the glove’s partner in crime follows and smacks him in the face again. “Well, good morning, sleepy beauty,” jeers Seokjin. “Now that you're alive, how about you start helping us move our stuff?”

Blinking in the new light before his eyes, Jungkook sighs explosively, half yawn, half exclamation.

“It’s sleeping beauty, you imbecile.” You think you hear him grumble under his breath. A part of you wishes he’d acknowledge you again like old times. Another- and you convince yourself, a greater- part of you simply cannot be bothered to care anymore.

“I think that’s the last of it!” Namjoon yells from the trunk of the van. You hear him close it with a loud thud, one arm holding a cooler, the other locking the trunk. Seokjin stands by the porch of the cabin, nodding approvingly at the progress. He checks his watch.

“I’m hungry,” he says, “Should we go into town?”

You groan in protest. “Dude, we just got here. You want to hop back in a stuffy van and drive, again?”

“Yes,” he answers without a beat.

“Yup!” echoes Namjoon. You have no idea how he heard this.

“Ah, food would be so good,” Jyo-en says as she comes up from behind you, a hand patting her stomach and a frown adorning her face. You can't help but roll your eyes; she’s not hungry at all.

“Food it is,” Seokjin confirms. Despite the peckish feeling that jabbers at your stomach, you're not certain your appetite can handle another car ride with them so soon.

“You guys go ahead without me, I had a big breakfast this morning,” you lie.

“Suit yourself,” he says with a simple shrug of indifference. Turning away to head inside, you hear Seokjin yell for the others. You’re not sure where Hoseok and Nancy scurried off to, though the list of possibilities is disgustingly short. As if on cue, they near stumble out of the room they had chosen for the night, their lips swollen and clothing frayed. You think you’re going to be sick, and a subsequent twist of your innards does everything but confirm the sentiment.

You need to get out of here. You desperately need to get out of here.

As quietly as you can, you pull your boots on and stuff a spare water bottle in your jacket. The door before you opens, and with a breath, you crunch your way into the snow covered trees. You should have worn something warmer, you scold yourself as you cross your arms over your chest and blow out a huff of air.

The air is still- too still, you think. Even the melody of chickadees sound too far away. Your breath comes out in stiff clouds, hanging seconds in the air before fading away. You shove your nose deeper into your scarf as you aimlessly wander, allowing your thoughts to get as lost as you’re about to be.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost be convinced it was four years ago. The way the wind nips your face reminds you of waiting for the train at the worst possible hours of the morning, despite the fact you only had the one class that day.

The rest of the day was for the squad.

This could mean anything from half-attempted study sessions (in reality, a thinly veiled excuse to gossip about your classmates and munch on overpriced cafeteria food) to skipping down to the neighbourhood village just down the street from your university for the far better food that was just as expensive. It could mean sneaking off between classes to a quiet staircase and into Hoesoek’s arms for as many fleeting moments the two of you could steal in a day. It could mean a walk down to the university bar for curly fries and maybe one too many drinks. Sometimes it was the train ride home, hand in hand and falling asleep on each other’s shoulders.

The wind was just as cold as it has always been, but you haven’t been. Somewhere along the line, something had changed. A whole lot of somethings. At some point or another, it all just started to come crashing down until now you stand, here, in a snowy field standing ankle deep in fading memories.

You’d ask yourself how it managed to go to hell so much, so fast. But you don’t feel like opening that vault again— you’ve had it closed for good reason.

The piercing caw of a crow snaps you back to reality. Your eyes open, and the freezing train stations and too-warm classrooms fade away with the snowfall. You feel the first snowflake hit your cheek and when you look up, another hits your nose. Whichever way you go, whether it’s memory lane or the slow, cold walk back to the cabin, it’s going to be a bitch either way. It doesn’t take long for your boots to become soaked, and it takes even shorter for your toes to begin freezing. Your only regret is you find yourself wishing you’d have noticed it earlier; you were too preoccupied with watching the sun’s last stretch across the mountaintops.

Your laugh is what Jungkook remembers the most as you two walked towards the train station on those cold winter mornings. The light fragrance of your perfume that overpowered the icy winds had always made you feel like home to him. And your laugh, the thing he missed the most. When was the last time he’d seen you smile? When was the last time he’d even talked to you? It seems a lifetime ago now.

Jungkook’s fingers hesitantly hold the black pen against his sketchpad as he allows the natural skill of his hand overtake the paper. The desk he’s sat on faces towards the blanket of white snow against a crisp blue sky. He sighs, the view of the mountain sheathed in nothing but white bringing him back to old memories of you.

He can almost taste the pork bulgogi he’d always order at lunch with you. One look is all you had to give in order to silently invite him to eat after class. It was that cocked eyebrow, the slight tilt of the head and he was already transferring money into his bank account. And your scent- soft and subtle against the cold winter air. Even if his lungs were crystalized by the cool winter air, your perfumed scarf still lingered to his nose. You’d always felt somewhat like a distant lover than an old friend. What happened? He happened.

Just as Jungkook blasts his Spotify playlist through his earphones, you walk through the front door. Unbeknownst to you or him, the cause of your melancholy sits on the floor above you in his room. Your hands are freezing, a soft curse escaping your mouth as your teeth clatter and you stomp your way inside. You’re covered head to toe in snow, a sudden icy flurry hitting you on your way back. Perhaps a spontaneous walk down memory lane was one of your dumber ideas but if anything, it was nice to get away from this bullshit for even a little while. And by the looks of it, you’ll be able to escape a little while longer as you stand in the foyer of an empty cabin. You’re alone with your thoughts once again. How did you get here? You ask yourself a million times over.

Shrugging off the weight of your coat, you unravel your scarf and land with a loud sigh against the brown suede couch. It’s a cozy cabin, you’ll have to give Namjoon that much credit but his need to treat everyone as equal despite obvious differences landed you in this more than miserable situation. Your fingers hesitantly uncurl, the heat already uncoiling the ice in your veins. You reach for your phone, the only notification being a “Merry Christmas” email from your dentist. You almost laugh at yourself.

4:04pm [You]: yoongs, entertain me

No reply, instead a big fat, red “not delivered!” pops underneath the message. You frown, annoyed at the world and mostly Jyo-en for dragging you along this getaway from hell. On top of this, the three people you’ve been wanting to see and talk to the most in the world won’t be arriving for another excruciating twenty-four hours. Old Man Winter chuckles to himself as he prolongs your misery.

Jungkook is mindlessly working upstairs, watching the flurry of snow coat the mountains and area around the cabin further. If it weren’t for the gentle ooze of Keshi in his ears, he’d be concerned by the rapid snowfall. His hand works diligently, his sketch near finished as he watches the sun set outside. Somewhere between the last of his shading and perfecting does the lamp in his room suddenly give out.

Silence.

You freeze as the world surrounding you goes absolutely still. The sound of heat coming through the vents stops, the lights flicker off and you’re approaching darkness as the sun settles outside. Fuck, you think to yourself. This could not be happening.

Reaching for your phone, your fingers clamour as you hastily give Namjoon a call.

Straight to voicemail.

You try Seokjin; it doesn’t even ring.

Panic settles over you, your flight or fight kicking in as you think of what to possibly do. You scour the main floor for a landline, anything that could be of use in this situation. Surely there was a maintenance number somewhere? It’s when you’re in the kitchen that you hear the footsteps above you. You freeze again.

Now you’re almost positive it’s an intruder ready to murder you. Like in those horrible, terrible horror movies. Although you’ve played a lot of Outlast, you doubt you could handle whatever the fuck has spawned upstairs. As the footsteps shuffle some more, you grab a knife from the counter and decide if you should wait to be murdered or move towards the sound like every idiot in those movies. But just as you’re deciding, the steps move rapidly down the stairs until you’ve panicked and dropped your knife, shrieking out of pure terror with your eyes shut.  

Jungkook stares at you in complete bewilderment.

“_____?” He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows strewn together in genuine concern. His eyes fall to the knife on the floor, further confusion littering his mind. “Are you okay?”

The voice sounds familiar, too familiar and it pangs you to know exactly who it is.

Your heart plummets to your stomach when you tentatively open one eye and see Jungkook’s big doe eyes staring right back at you.

“Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?” You put your hand to your chest and sigh a heavy breath of relief. “I fucking...thought…” You look back up at him, the furrow in his eyebrows suddenly flooring you with emotion. You haven’t really looked at him in ages, it feels.

“You didn’t go with the others?” His lips form an innocent pout as he asks. You haven’t realized how much you missed his boyish charm. It’s then that you find yourself observing him head to toe for the first time in a long time. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and (unintentionally, you convince yourself), the plaid red pajama bottoms you got him for Christmas three years ago. Is that how long it’s been since you’ve last spoken? He looks different, more confident, more tone in his body. Although his hair remains the same shade of brunette, it’s slightly longer and rests in natural curls. His jawline is even sharper, you note. From the small mole just under his lip to the faint cleft in his chin, you find yourself completely absorbed in how good looking Jungkook has gotten.

“N-no,” you’re suddenly stuttering as you catch yourself out of flagrant staring. “I thought you did—”

“Nope.” The tension brews around you two, both of you stood across from one another as sudden realization dawns on you.

“The power’s out,” you say and Jungkook nods in agreement. You really didn’t think this day could get any worse yet here you were. “I-I tried calling Namjoon but it wouldn’t go through.” Jungkook taps his pointer finger to his lower lip in consideration.

“Phone lines must be out too,” he said half to himself. “Must be a hell of a blizzard out there.” You shudder involuntarily as you remember the way the wind tore through you on the return journey to the cabin, and with the memory comes the bittersweet nostalgia…

You mentally stomp the memories out. Not the time, not the place. Not anymore.

“Well, I don’t want to starve,” you say as you start to feel your stomach glare at you hungrily. Maybe you should have gone with them after all. An image of Hoseok and Nancy sucking face flashes before you. You shudder again. It might still be hell here, but at least it isn’t a hell so deep as watching them. Besides, this is the most Jungkook has spoken to you in years.

“Fortunately, they left us with the food,” Jungkook says to you. “If memory serves correct there should at least be a box or three of smokies floating around somewhere.” He pulls on a sweater and rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

“What about the fire?” You ask.

“What about it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Can you start one?” You know for a fact you might be able to, but this isn’t the time for you to test your skills.

“Probably. It isn’t exactly rocket science,” he replies with a smart grin. There’s a small door just under the staircase that Jungkook opens with little to no hesitation. You had always admired how unafraid of the world Jungkook had always been. Perhaps those values washed away when he too walked out of your life.

You snap yourself out of it and roll your eyes. “Jungkook, you’re the least handyman person I know.”

“At least I’m remembered for something,” he replies as he dips below the stairs to search for wood.

You damn near have to stop yourself from smiling.

You’re not certain if it’s just the natural dynamic you shared with him, or if it’s completely circumstantial, but one thing was for certain; like it or not, you found the pair of you swiftly falling back in step with one another in more ways than you’d care to admit… and more ways than you’d care to remember.

It’s almost as if he hadn’t just chosen to vanish from your life for nearly three years. It’s almost as if it were like old times. What had happened to you guys? Why did he stop calling you?

For the umpteenth time, you snap yourself away from this. It’s too late. There’s no use in thinking of the past. You sigh and return to the kitchen, scouring, searching every cabinet and square surface for candles and matches.

A heartbeat or three passes, and a clonking of feet on wood alerts you to Jungkook’s return.

“I've got good news and bad news,” He huffs as he steps back onto the main floor from the cellar.

“Oh, god,” you start. You feel a slight panic coming on again.

“Good news?” He hefts a frayed and worn burlap bag. “I found firewood.”

“And the bad news?” You ask tentatively.

He feigns sadness before he brings out two giant bottles of cabernet sauvignon from behind his back. “There's all this wine, and nobody around to drink it,” he finishes. “Except us, naturally.”

For however brief a moment it was, you knew for certain that the flash in his eyes, the quick smile he now wore, you hadn't seen for years. It seems as though, if only for a split second, the old Jungkook had returned. Somehow sensing your revelation, the moment passes as swiftly as it came, and then a stone faced Jungkook returns.

“I-if you want to, anyway.” The coolness returns without indication, a coolness you are now determined to thaw out.

“I’m insulted you even think you have to ask,” you return playfully. A hint of colour returns to his cheeks, and a fraction of a grin returns. Silently, he sets about starting the fire while you work on opening the wine.

It takes you a second to realize that the wine is in fact corked, and you had not a corkscrew between the two of you. You glance at Jungkook, his back still turned to you, rubbing two sticks together or something. You really don’t know, and he doesn’t share; in fact, he seems quite absorbed in his work.

You glance back at the wine bottle. Taking the lapse in effort, you ask yourself if this was really worth doing- if this was even a good idea.

“Aha!” You hear a whoosh followed by a golden radiance that now permeates the space. “And that,” Jungkook turns towards you, grin wide and proud, “is how you start a fire.”

You’re not only warm, but impressed- leave it to Jungkook to be perfect in literally every department. You suppose he hasn’t lost that talent yet.

Though the feeling of pride quickly fades as you see the can of body spray in one of his hands and a lighter in the other. You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, silently calling him out on his middle school arson methods.

“It was ah, taking too long,” he adds sheepishly, rolling the can of body spray towards the corner and playfully tossing the lighter at you.

“Seokjin is going to kill you.”

“What for? Theft of his lighter, or his outrageous body spray? If anything, I’m doing him a favour…how are you making out with the wine?”

“We… don’t have a corkscrew,”  you reply somewhat dejectedly. That half-serious face comes about his visage once more as you see him wracking his brain, trying to solve the problem.

His grin returns. “Don’t worry,” Jungkook says after a minute. “I have an idea.”

“What a waste of a fucking match, oh my God!” You’re sure to sound extra exasperated as you watch Jungkook wrap the loose piece of twine around the neck of wine bottle.

“Do you want to drink or not? Let me work my magic…” Jungkook wears determination on his face, a tongue poking out, eyebrows scrunched together as he ties it once, twice until you’re sure even a wine bottle could choke. You watch as he carefully takes a match and strikes it with the expertise of a pyrotechnic turned for the better. With little hesitation, he lights the twine on fire, a burning noose around the neck of the wine bottle. It doesn’t take ten seconds for the glass to crack open. He’s two for two; at this point, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more.

You’re honestly mesmerized. “How…?” You ask. He lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible.

“It’s magic,” you hear him say as he shrugs. “I don’t have to explain shit.” Another eye roll later, you’re returning to the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the sink in search of wine glasses. To no avail, you find stainless steel coffee mugs instead.

“Is this even safe to drink out of? I won’t choke on microscopic shards of glass?” You ask Jungkook after your third and fourth glasses. It’s a little too late to be asking such a question but you’re sure at this point, your words are a little slurred and nothing quite makes sense. Inwardly, you realize it’s a moot point anyway, and with that realization comes that for the first time in longer than you can remember, you’re just trying to strike up a conversation with him.

It’s hard not to when Jungkook has planted a pile of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, the pair of you sat and drinking potentially lethal wine. Before you lies half-finished board games you two attempted to play yet failed due to sheer anger at the game itself or each other. You’re sure if you were sober, this would be a lot more difficult.

“Magic, _____.” Jungkook slurs, his cheeks flushed and that half grin he does so well. Despite a certain flutter in your chest, you scoff into your mug of wine, small bubbles splashing back onto your upper lip.

“Magic?” You nearly spit. “This isn’t Harry Potter, Jungkook. How exactly do you personally quantify magic?”

A quiet moment passes as he swirls the final dregs of wine in his cup thoughtfully.

“I’d define it as the things you do to me, actually,” he replies before downing the rest of his cup.

Are you hearing things right? Did that actually come out of his mouth? Is this happening? You glance at your own cup. What the fuck is this wine, anyway? You’re drunk. Both of you are.

Jungkook stands and reaches for the bottle, filling up his cup before topping up your own. You still sit in a stunned silence, observing as he tosses another log into the fire, a shower of sparks floating up the chimney.

“Wh… Where did that come from?” You manage. He waves his hand dismissively, breaking eye contact a moment.

“Next question?” He asks as he sips.

Feeling bolder now, you pursue. He isn’t getting away that easily.

“Okay. I’ll put it another way.” You pause to sip, the confidence now flowing nominally through your system. “What exactly happened to us?” There, you’ve asked it.

A silence now spreads the two of you apart, despite the lack of inherent distance between you two presently. Now it seems to be Jungkook’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing this entire time,” he replies. The stone is slowly creeping up to his face.

“You can do better than that,” you egg him on.

“What, now you believe in me?” He shoots back. The venom in his words would take you off guard if it weren’t for how earnest his was before you. He drinks again, gulping this time. He must be on his sixth glass now. You can see the same sentiment in his eyes that you hold in your heart; a universal now-or-never. This is the chance to lay the cards on the table. You know it’s going to hurt, but you know it’s necessary. He rises slowly to his feet, swaying ever so slightly from the wine.

“How about you tell me what happened to us, _____?” Jungkook almost shouts. “We used to be close. We told each other everything. I used to stay up late just to make sure you got home from class or work, I made sure you ate your meals, that your homework was completed. I cared. We both did. Maybe a bit too much...” With this, he sighs explosively and flops down onto the dusty couch behind you, his chin resting on his hand. “We used to be something. I don't know what, but it was there. And now?” He waves an arm absentmindedly towards the window. “Nothing but cold.” The irony, you think. But it's an irony that's been a long time coming, and a certain sick irony that could only come from him.

But the question sticks with you, more than you'd care to admit. Something had slapped you deep inside, and even still it reverberated within you.

No, you're not going to stand here and take this.

“You tell me what happened, Jungkook.” You uncross your legs and rise to your feet, striding towards him. “You stopped texting, calling. You stopped wanting to hang out, and suddenly there was this wall between us. You never even told me what I did.”

For a moment, he looks hurt, as though a thousand predisposed assumptions has just come hurtling down. He regains his composure, though barely, and through shaken words, he continues.

“No, _____.” His face softens. “It isn't what you did. It isn't anything you did, not really.” He's nervous now; his knee bounces, his jaw clenches. You're fairly certain he's beginning to sweat.

What isn't he telling you?

“Tell me,” you whisper. No venom now, merely curiosity, and perhaps a hint of something more. Your hand finds its way onto his own, and your fingers slowly curl around his palm. Contrary to your assumptions, his hand remains there. Even more surprising, his hand reverses and his fingers interlace with your own. A heartbeat passes, and his eyes meet yours.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, _____. I don’t think either of us did anything wrong. Passing ships in the night? Too little, too late? Just bad timing, is that all? Hell if I know.” He takes a deep swig of the wine. “We vibed. Hard. Everything about us was natural and made sense.” You have to agree with this, even now, not talking after so long- you two felt real, felt right.

“No, Jungkook, that’s bullshit and we both know it!” You insist. “You stopped putting in the effort, you stopped wanting to be in my life, you….” It hurts you, a sinking feeling in your chest as you choke out your words. “You wouldn’t even look in my direction the past however long ago it was that you decided to walk away from my life without a single warning.” Perhaps it’s because you’re drunk that tears spring. It’s a deep-seated memory that you’ve brought back, a confrontation that you had always convinced yourself would never happen. “And I don’t even get an explanation why?” This whole situation had to have happened for a reason, you drunkenly tell yourself. If fate really was real, this moment would be its poster child.

Jungkook is staring at you with a look you can’t quite read. You can’t quite decide if he’s about to cry with you or angrily escape this situation. Instead, he places his cup on the wooden coffee table and stands up. His walk towards you in confident, as if he’s ready to expel whatever it is that riddled him in shades of torture for as long as it did. He takes your hands, a slight shake in the way he grasps them.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you with him,” he blurts.

A moment passes, your eyes unleaving as you try and process the weight of his words in your scrambled, drunken mess of a mind. You with who? Hoseok?

“Him?” You find yourself repeating. “Why would you…”

Jungkook sighs and lets your hands go, his fingers moving up to rake his brunette locks away from his face. He’s definitely sweating, you note.

“Wasn’t it obvious, _____?

“B-but what about after we broke up, you could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” He laughs humorously. “Could have gone back to the way it was before?” He cranes his neck to the side, the palm of his hand rubbing against the skin. “It doesn’t work like that, _____. I’m selfish for you but not that selfish. Staying away was better anyway... neither of us would get hurt.”

But you were hurt, hurt more than the break up itself because at the end of the day, all you wanted was your best friend and even he had left. “You’re such an idiot.” You can’t help but say. “Stupid, stupid idiot. How could you do that?” You want to punch him, slap him as hard as you can for him to feel any amount of equivalence in physical pain that he gave you in emotional pain. All those nights you had laid wondering what you did wrong had all been for nothing?

Your frown deepens, more questions than ever before emerging. “You liked me?” Had you ever even thought of him as more than a friend? You’re not sure you should even be asking these questions with vigour liquor coursing through your veins yet, you remind yourself that the liquid courage has brought you two here thus far.

Jungkook laughs once more, no strain of humour in the vibrato. “That’s an understatement.” He then mumbles and you’re left racking your brain. For a brief second, it makes perfect sense before you completely lose your train of thought.  “Besides,” he continues. “There’s no point in thinking what could have happened, I just—” There’s a pause as his chocolates in his doe eyes search yours for something. “Will you just let me kiss you right now?”

This takes you wholeheartedly off guard, your eyes widen as you speak with hesitance. “Y-you want to kiss me?”

“I’ve always wanted to, _____.” How does this phrase create such a powerful flutter in your chest? You wonder if it’s the alcohol or maybe, just maybe, a deep-rooted longing you;d never known you had in you.

Without answering his question, you kiss him first.

As your fingers reach for his face, Jungkook grapples your waist. You feel tiny in the palm of his hands, he thinks as he feels your lips against his for the first time. Jungkook feels as if he’s dreaming- perhaps the alcohol has something to do with that.

Red wine is what you taste the most, mixed with a subtle sweetness of mint. You drown in him, melt against him as he carefully engulfs you into his arms. The fireplace warming the space around is nothing in comparison to the sudden inferno in your chest. It’s then that you realize, this is what you’ve wanted all along.

Your hand slides down Jungkook’s face to his chest. He feels broad underneath your fingertips, a certain firmness to the touch that you hadn’t expected. He only brings you closer, arms wrapping around your torso as his lips press against you harder. His tongue is soft with your own, a gentle roll with your own as a certain heat builds up in your core.

Suddenly, it’s messier. Jungkook’s tongue swipes your bottom lip before planting a soft bite. It releases a whimper from you, earning a quiet groan from him. You’ve never thought this day would come. Are you dreaming?

When you pull away, Jungkook’s full attention is on you only. He runs a thumb over your wine-stained pout, his eyes large and completely enveloped in the sight of you. “I never thought I would get to kiss these lips.” He says.

You moan and lean in for another.

No matter how much your lips fuse together, how much you press yourself against his stronger hold, you cannot get enough nor do you want this to end. It feels right, comfortable to be in his embrace like this, his mouth against yours and chests connected. It’s not long before you’re both succumbing to the fall on your knees against the self-made bed Jungkook made of old blankets and pillows. It’s cozy, neither of you wasting time to run upstairs to a proper bed. You think this is the most romantic setting you could have ever hoped for.

It’s when you’re suddenly on top of Jungkook that you feel a growth settle underneath your core. You feel the sheer girth of it as your kissing intensifies, two large hands coming to rest upon your thighs as they persuade your hips to skim over it. You gasp at the feeling, sure that you’re already soaked beyond measure. It’s not hard for you to already feel him like this, the thin veil of his pajama bottoms being the only barrier away from you having it in you. The thought arouses you far too much, leading to a harsher grind that has you both moan out. You haven’t been touched in a long while.

Jungkook’s hands travel up your sides until he’s cupped both of your cheeks in each palm. Your lips are guided once again to his own as he places a hard kiss against you. With each fleeting moment, your want for him intensifies. You can’t help but think this was meant to be, that you’ve wanted this somewhere deep within you. Perhaps the old you was looking out for the future you.

It’s with both hesitance and confidence that Jungkook inches your sweater up. His hands feel warm against your bare torso, a shiver running through you when they lazily travels up and down your sides. As you pull away, Jungkook gives you that lopsided grin you hadn’t realized you’ve missed dearly until this moment. It almost feels as if nothing has changed, as if there hadn’t been a giant nothingness between you two for so long.

“You look so beautiful.” Jungkook whispers, his right hand reaching to push a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you guide your shirt off before a thumb strokes your cheek, and then your lips. You softly bite it and receive a contempt groan in response.

“Yours too,” you gently urge as you play with the hem of his white shirt. Jungkook grins and lifts his torso before pulling the fabric over his head. He does not hesitate to kiss you again.

With each kiss, the intensity grows until you’re sure you’ve caused a puddle in your pants as you shamelessly grind your cunt against a very erect bulge in Jungkook’s pants. He feels so firm, more built than you could have ever imagined as he pulls you tighter against him. You’re slowly losing your mind before you decide to take the initiative.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Let me taste you.” Jungkook nearly unravels just from those words alone.

“Yeah?” You nod, a coy smile spreading across your face as surely a heavy blush riddles your cheeks in a crimson red. Jungkook merely chuckles, planting a feverish kiss against your mouth. “You’re so adorable.”

You trail kisses down his torso, the definition of muscles in his abdomen driving you absolutely mad. You’re still unable to fully comprehend what exactly was happening yet you’re equally unable to stop yourself.  Jungkook helps you get rid of his pants, your mouth instantly watering when his erection lands against his torso with a soft thwack. It glistens against the golden aura surrounding you. He cocks his head to the side. “Think you can take it?”

If that’s a challenge you hear in his tone, it’s a challenge you’re willing to take. You might even think Jungkook remembers how competitive you are. You move down his body with ease before placing a tentative lick against the head of his cock. Jungkook’s hands immediately surrender to your hair, moving it out of your face until he’s made a makeshift ponytail out of his own hands.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out shakily when you take the whole of his head in your mouth. You suck just under his head, a certain ball of nerves that drives Jungkook absolutely mad. The hold he has on your hair acts as an invisible guide, in motion with his hips lifting does he simultaneously move your head down. “Just like that, baby.” You groan against his cock as you take more of him in your mouth. Jungkook is thick, girthy with a prominent vein that sits right where your tongue can trace it. He’s losing himself further and further into you as you begin a steady motion of sucking. Your hand holds the base of his cock as your mouth works wonders, earning you whimpers and curses from him. “So good, so good.” Jungkook gasps when you pick up the pace. It’s when he feels himself really about to lose control that he pulls you away from his cock, a satisfying pop following the disconnect.

“C’mere,” he murmurs before smashing his lips against yours. Though your lips are coated in saliva, his kisses have become sloppier, rougher as he cradles your torso with one arm before flipping you until you’re underneath him. “These have to go.” He pulls at your pants and you giggle with agreeance.

“That would be ideal.”

Jungkook undoes the buttons before tugging them down your legs. You’ve now got nothing on but your bra, a pale violet with a lacy trim on the top. Did you subconsciously know you were going to get fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook today?

He pulls your legs apart, a satisfied hum escaping him as your glistening folds welcome him. “Fuck, _____.” He whispers as his thumb skims over your wetness. You suck in a sharp breath, the callous on his thumb sensitive against your cunt. You want him to touch you there.

It’s as if he can read your mind, the thumb now dragging over your clit. The sigh of relief you give only fuels Jungkook’s satisfaction more. He too would like to taste you.  

You cry out, hands grappling for his torso as he begins circling the thumb over your sensitive nub. “So wet,” he groans.

“J-just for you.” This makes Jungkook move faster with his thumb. He wants to feel you. Jungkook slowly slides the defts of his index and middle finger into you, your cry filling the space. He takes his time, feeling your walls clench around his digits as his thumb simultaneously circles over your clit. He’s amazed by how each thrust of his fingers causes you to coat them farther in your arousal. And you’re amazed by how soon you’re about to come. It only makes his own erection angrier and your cunt clench tighter.

“You coming, baby?” Never would Jungkook have thought he’d get to call you baby. You nod with vigour, each pump of his finger along with the relentless rub of his fingers causing your legs to shake.

“S-so fucking close...oh my god.” You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re— “Jungkook!”

He dips his head in between your thighs, his mouth instantly suctioned to your clit as his fingers continue their torture. With his tongue replacing his thumb, you come undone almost instantly, the wave of pure white, hot filth overtaking your entire body. You shudder, legs trembling as your fingers thread through the lush of Jungkook’s brown locks. Jungkook continues licking against your clit, flicking and sucking until you can no longer take it.

“F-fuck me, Jungkook- please,” you beg as your cunt craves for more. You want absolutely all of him.

Jungkook’s cock is ready, heavy against his palm as he takes ahold of the base and spreads your legs apart. His mouth is wet with your arousal, his chest littered with beads of sweat. “Your pussy looks so fucking good.” He remarks, letting the pink tip of his dick rub against your wet folds. You both moan at the sensation.

With one more rub of his head, he lines himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his hips forward. You think you could come instantly again. Jungkook’s cock feels amazing, full as your tightness grips with so deliciously, even he has to hold himself back from not undoing quickly.

“Fuck.” You let out as you place a hand on his chest, letting the feel of his cock overtake your entire body. He stops when he’s reached the hilt, careful to rock his hips out before slamming them back into you. You can’t help but cry his name out. “You feel so good.” You’re whimpering, the hand on his chest and moving to the back of his neck as you push his head forward to kiss you. He follows suit, beginning a rhythmic pace of his hips as you lose yourself further and further into him.

Jungkook kisses you feverishly, hot and wet against your mouth as he continues to rick in and out of you. His breaths are laboured, filthy words and curses escaping him as you clench around him with each thrust.

“Yeah, baby?” You’re losing your mind, already close to a second undoing. You know you’re going to come again soon. Jungkook takes your legs and places your ankles on his shoulder, plummeting into you with a force so delicious, you’re about to go delirious. You’re so tight, Jungkook can feel himself edging closer to his own end. “Fuck, turn around for me.” You do as requested, turning to your stomach. Jungkook pulls your ass up towards him and lines himself up once again. Without hesitation this time, he pushes into you, a new type of fullness that overtakes your innards. He feels so fucking good.

It’s a steady rock, your ass hitting against his pelvis as he continues a continuous motion with his hips. He’s relentless in his movements, the new position allowing him to reach deeper, feeling you clench tighter.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook is moaning out. He grabs a handful of your ass, using it as support while he rams into you with no plans of slowing down. The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping and your deep breath and moans. Jungkook knows he’s so close.

He reaches forward, first and second digit immediately gravitating towards your clit. As he rubs, the familiar rubber band stretches in the pit of your guts. You’re going to come again, you feel it.

It’s when Jungkook whispers into your ear how much he wants to come inside you, that you give out. It washes over you, makes you tighten your grip on the blanket underneath you as you clench so hard around Jungkook that he too comes with you. You feel the spurts of him fill you to the brim until you’re nothing but a puddle underneath him. You lay still, letting his fluid mixed with yours dribble out of you as Jungkook pulls out. It burns to have him away from you. You want him to hold you all night.

“Was that okay?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. You nod in reassurance, twisting your head around so he can kiss your lips.

It’s then that your phone blares, taking you both by surprise. You rush to your feet, arms reaching for your phone when you see Namjoon’s name flash across your screen.

“Hello?” You answer with no thought.

“_____! Oh my god! Are you okay? There was a huge storm, we’re trapped in town until Monday- did I ask if you were okay? I think Yoongi—” The line fizzles out.

There’s a pause as you look at a curious Jungkook.

“It looks like we’ll be here a while.”

a/n: hey babies! so sorry for the long wait for this one! i really hope you liked it! it’s been in the works for a little while haha. this is my first fic back in a WHILE! and more to come soon! let me know what you think as per usual. i love you so much!!!!!!! and happy holidays to you, your friends and families ✨💞

[redux-iterum]

The Mother

Mirra

Impressive, isn’t she?

Bigger than anything a Clan cat has seen, no matter where they come from. A true monster, a beast beyond our reckoning. Our progenitor. Our creator.

You stand before her mouth, between her paws. Her claws have long been sheathed since her war against the cruel titans of the early world, but you can see the edge of them from across the road, in her earthen toes that stand taller than even a human.

Approach. That feeling of awe and fear that tightens your chest is not unwarranted. This is a creature older than we can even imagine. She sleeps now, but she knows you’re here. There is no escaping that. Breathe slowly, and advance. Enter her mouth.

Dark, yes. Even a cat’s eyes cannot serve their owner here. Walk forward. Your feet will know where to go.

You have time to reflect as you move. The stories of the Mother that you’ve heard as a kit are fluttering about in your head. There’s the First Story, of course, telling of how she came to create the different animals of the world and destroy the beasts that inhabited the forest first. There are also those of her sending dreams to seers and their apprentices, incomprehensible to a mortal’s eyes and ears and yet received with perfect clarity. Her voice is never audible, but it is heard. Her visage - her true face, hidden beneath the soil - is never visible, but it is seen.

Take a right here. You’re getting close.

She’s a curious being, the Mother. Always sleeping. You know, ShadowClan believes that her scales and horns on her back are a good burying sight for their dead. The high stones are impenetrable, and other animals avoid them if they can. Most of them, anyway. Some say it’s because of her connection to StarClan. It frightens them off.

Halt. Did you hear that? Did you feel it?

Yes. A faint breeze through the tunnels.

Do not tremble in fear. You are lucky to have borne witness to her breath.

Continue walking. Everything is well.

It’s pitch-black, and it’s cold, and it’s frightening for an average warrior. Some actually flee this place when forced to enter. I cannot say I blame them. Neither can you. Even you are shaking, and certain you are lost.

You are not. I promise you that.

Ah, look. There’s a faint light up ahead. No need to hurry, you’ll get there soon.

What is the Mother, you wonder? She is called a monster sometimes, but you know true monsters. She is not one of them. Yet she is more than a simple folktale hero, more physical and literal than her children. It’s possible there were more of her kind when she was awake, and yet we do not have any stories of them. What were they called? Did they even have a name?

Here you are. You emerge from the darkness and into her heart’s chamber.

It’s a massive white boulder…or at least it looks like a boulder. It is commonly referred to as the Moon Stone. As the night rises, you see why - Suriin’s eye sets this sacred heart ablaze. It reflects the moonlight so strongly that you are almost blinded.

It’s so quiet here, isn’t it? So peaceful.

An eagle calls somewhere in the world. You jump in surprise.

Breathe. It’s alright.

You’re safe here.

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 47

chapter list / previous / next

Heatherstar had given him permission to speak at the meeting, and told him what to be discreet about. Talltail wasn’t confident whether Cedarstar would accept his word, but maybe if Ratfang had managed to convince him of her own suspicions, there was a better chance. The large patrol cautiously approached the shadowy treeline before the Thunderpath. Talltail smelled them before he saw anything under the now thickly dark cover of night. They were indeed a patrol large enough to be a threat, lined up in front of the Thunderpath tunnel, and who knew how many more were hidden.

Cedarstar stepped forward, only his pale white belly fur and glinting yellow eyes visible in the shadows.

“I hope this will be brief,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Our situation seems simple from my end. The cleanest solution is ShadowClan will forgive and forget everything in exchange for extra territory rights as compensation.“

Heathertstar growled deep in her throat. Talltail’s flinched, feeling his confidence already slipping away. That’s not a great start to fair negotiations at all.

“Do not propose such an insulting thing as reasonable when you know very well it’s not. And I can tell you once more, my clan has done nothing to warrant your behavior this past season.” her neck fur flattened ever so slightly “If you proposed this meeting to actually give reason a chance, then I will tell you that I suspect I know why this has happened.”

“I’m always ready to listen to reason.” Cedarstar said coolly.

Talltail took a small step forward to explain what he had discovered, as Heatherstar allowed him. The deputy Stonetooth sat beside his leader, and Talltail felt his narrowed glare through his scarred and squinted eye.

“I have found evidence cats purposely disguised scents to make WindClan and ShadowClan suspect each other of trespassing and insult. There were...cats working outside the warrior code trying to pit our clans against each other for their own gain.”

Heatherstar told him it was for the best for him not to directly accuse ShadowClan cats of pushing the rogue’s actions, and remain vague about the culprits at first. Their loyalty and desire to save face may be too strong. She would bring it up herself if necessary.

“It wouldn’t be completely unheard of for other cats to want us to weaken each other before the harsh season starts.” A ShadowClan warrior muttered after several silent heart-beats.

 Talltail bit his tongue, wishing he could accuse Darkpaw by name.

 Cedarstar paused as if considering his thoughts, but he looked, strangely, not fully surprised. Talltail wondered if he already knew his young warriors were working behind his back or not. Would he deny it? Talltail really was risking a lot on Ratfang’s assurance that Cedarstar didn’t truly want this fight. Either way, he certainly wouldn't want to look like he was backing off too easily after coming this far.

Stonetooth growled. “Why would we take the word of a deserter? Are you not a rogue yourself?” 

“If this was a rogue, I would not have brought him, nor would I have let him speak.” Heatherstar said firmly. Talltail knew she was saving face in front of ShadowClan, but the defense warmed him all the same. 

“‘I left my clan to pursue the rogues that I thought had wronged us. That’s how I found out.” Talltail said. That was at least true enough 

“Even so, this doesn’t change the fact that WindClan broke clan law in the first place by hiring rogue mercenaries,” Stonetooth shot back.

Heatherstar glared back steadily. “We did no such thing. We had a peaceful private arrangement with a small band of loners whom we only offered medicine to, until you provoked them unjustly. Between us, I have been given information that suggests it seems you were the only one that sought their help for means of war. We know ShadowClan tried to explore our tunneling system, it is too late to deny that. One of my warriors was killed because of it.”

 “And one of ours is permanently injured from it.” Cedarstar spat. “We sought information from a rogue we reasonably assumed had ill intent. There’s no cause within clan law to have outsiders living on clan territory after all. But we did not make him attack.”

 “Perhaps not directly. And yet, the rogue could only have gone so far to set us at each other's throats with help from inside. Seeking to provoke an attack could easily be seen as ‘usage in times of war,’ could it not?”

Talltail held his breath while Cedarstar glared for a long tense moment, his lip curling slightly. “I have not confirmed any clan cats from my end acting on their own in this way, but I do know for certain that one of yours did! If he is WindClan again as you claim, then you are responsible for his past actions when some time ago, your runaway was caught trespassing and nearly half-blinded my deputy, and could have done much worse! That alone could be grounds for us to retaliate.” 

Stonetooth had not lost his eye after all, but it was perhaps not as good as it had once been. Talltail felt hot with shame and Heatherstar bristled furiously. Unfortunately, it was true. He’d almost forgotten about his furious desperate attack on the deputy when he accidentally crossed him and Raggedpelt. Talltail was going to pay for his rashness. Of course ShadowClan would use that to deflect the accusation.

Stonetooth was bristling beside his leader. “Yes, you have no business insulting our honor when we have only ever responded to threats. Any blood spilled will be justified, and we are within our rights to defend ourselves here and now when a warrior violently invades. What's more, you clearly were making plans to invade further through unprecedented means. These tunnels you have been hiding were meant for that, will you deny that claim?” Stonetooth looked like he would have gone on, but Cedarstar raised a tail to silence him.

Heatherstar did not step back. “ShadowClan began this by trying to push boundary lines without need or cause. That particular tunneling project never reached your territory and it never will. As your unwarranted trespassing discovered.” 

“I still think we are taking a lot on the word of a deserter.” Stonetooth glared daggers at Talltail. “How do we really know that all the stolen prey with WindClan scent markings on our land was because of this rogue you speak of? We had reports from several cats who say they saw WindClan with their own eyes.”

To Talltail’s surprise, a small ShadowClan apprentice made a barely audible squeaking sound. She looked afraid when eyes turned to her. She surely wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting. “Sorry...I-I was one of the ones who reported those signs, But...but it's possible we...misunderstood them. It could have been a rogue and not WindClan after all now that I think of it. We...We never saw them up close, it was a skinny cat after all.”

 Talltail recognized Tanglepaw, the apprentice he’d help save from the fox. He willed her to tell the truth about Darkpaw so he could back it up, but she didn’t continue. In ShadowClan’s warrior patrol present for the talk, he caught sight of Ashheart, who stiffened and glared daggers at the back of the apprentice.

Cedarstar shifted uncomfortably, his tail lashing at the interruption. His eyes flicked to Ashheart. “Do you think that as well?”

One apprentice's word was only so good. Ashheart looked at Talltail, then down at her paws and only said, “I’m...not sure, now that I think of it. We didn’t get a good enough look.”

What, is she afraid of telling the full truth!? Talltail thought furiously. He wondered if Tanglepaw was going to take the fall all by herself to prevent the scheme Darkpaw had set up. Darkpaw can get away with a lot, Ratfang had said. It wasn’t fair, but it was better than saying nothing at all. Talltail couldn’t be the one to convince them of treachery within their clan.

“The bottom line is, we can’t give that cat what they want,” Talltail said loudly. All eyes turned to him, and he hoped Heatherstar would forgive his boldness. “I know I acted wrongly, I accidentally crossed your territory alone and had no grounds to attack, and I intend to atone for it however I can. Likewise, whoever has tried to set us up, they shouldn’t be rewarded for seeking bloodshed. Isn’t that reasonable to agree on? Do we let cats who don’t obey the warrior code guide our claws?” 

Talltail met the ShadowClan leader's eyes steadily. He could deny everything, Talltail didn’t have physical proof for his claims after all. But he saw in the old leader's gaze that Cedarstar did know he was telling the truth. And Talltail hoped his narrowed gaze suggested that he knew exactly what had happened with ShadowClan’s rebellious young cats, even if Cedarstar didn’t want to admit it here.  The leader glared at him, but he seemed uncomfortable. Talltail had been through too much these past moons to flinch away. You must see now your medicine cat's suspicions have merit. You know you aren’t in the right to push this invasion any further. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Cedarstar was still a clan leader, and for all the dreadful tales of ShadowClan there must be some hope that a sense of honor would shine through. If only he would allow that. Talltail looked to Heatherstar, desperate for her to be willing to give him an out to back off with his pride intact. Cedarstar was hesitant, his ears back. Perhaps all the two leaders needed was an opportunity to back away on equal terms. He didn’t think it was fair that his lashing out at Stonetooth was treated as an equal wrong to purposely trying to spiral their clans in a bloody war, but he was willing to take that hit if it would lead to a better outcome. Every cat present was rigid waiting for the leaders to speak, and Talltail swore he could feel the tension wafting off of the larger patrols of battle-ready warriors hiding somewhere out of sight on either side of the woodland strip.

 But right when he thought maybe, just maybe, things could be ok after all, he heard a caterwaul from further down ranks. Everyone bristled. Someone attacked, and he had no idea who it was. The tension in the air was so thick, anything could have set a cat off.

Heatherstar hissed “You gave the signal, didn’t you? I knew this talk was a pointless distraction!”

“I did no such thing!” Cedarstar spat.

Talltail’s stomach dropped, he didn’t hear the rest of their argument as a loud yowl split the air. He’d been too hopeful. The insults were real even if their cause was false. In the dark, he saw several cats chasing each other through the trees, Stonetooth was on his paws running down the line after them, snarling that he’d sort it out himself. From the hidden lines, Talltail saw a sleek brown shape start after the deputy, as Shrewclaw needed no further motive to take off. 

Talltail had no choice but to take off after the sprinting shape of Shrewclaw before he ruined everything, calling for him to wait while Heatherstar and Cedarstar snarled behind him. In the dark of night, Talltail saw feline shapes bristling in the undergrowth. He couldn’t see who they were, split off members of the battle patrols waiting and watching. Had some cats gotten too close to each other and lashed out? He heard confused snarling, saw flashing teeth, half-crouched warriors fox-lengths apart with eyes darting around in confusion. No one had been called to attack officially, and they were unsure of what to do. It was impossible to tell which side the yowling came from, or if a real fight had started or not.

A dark cat was tusseling over Hareflight, who was snapping at the little shape on his back. Hareflight would never have broken rank, this cat was just attacking on their own. Stonetooth barreled into the battle and they broke apart, but Stonetooth, still bristling and snarling, swiped at Hareflight’s whiskers as the senior warrior tried to back away. Talltail realized he’d lost sight of Shrewclaw until the furious tom was barreling past him. That swipe from Stonetooth was all the signal he needed. 

“Stop!” Talltail gasped, but Shrewclaw wasn’t listening, and had piled into the wiry gray warrior before the word had left his mouth.

Stonetooth kicked away from Shrewclaw. “I knew you lot couldn’t be trusted!” he snarled, spitting blood from a cut on his lip. Talltail tried to explain, but Stonetooth was lunging at him before he could open his jaws. Shrewclaw was ready before Talltail was. He was latched onto Stonetooth’s chest and knocking him backwards in a heartbeat. 

ShadowClan’s deputy being attacked was sure to catch attention. Talltail barely dodged a lunging ShadowClan warrior, who wheeled about on him again as soon as they landed. I’ve failed, this is all falling apart!

“You have to stop Shrewclaw, Heatherstar didn’t call for this!” he cried out.

If Shrewclaw heard him, he showed no sign of it. He wouldn’t stop until Stonetooth slipped in the dirt, writhing under Shrewclaw’s bite as jaws tore into his neck. Before Talltail could get closer to break them apart, the dark cat that had attacked first knocked him to the ground. It didn’t take long to realize who it was. 

“You're going to pay for ruining this for me!” the cat hissed. 

Darkpaw was going to start a fight whether their leaders wanted to or not, and he wasn’t going to wait around for Tanglepaw or any other cat to risk blaming him by name. He was wild and furious, and clearly had no better plan at all. Now he was just angry. Talltail kicked him back and sent him flying. Talltail was plenty angry too. Stonetooth and Shrewclaw tumbled down a gravely slope out of view, temporarily distracting Darkpaw long enough for Talltail to whack the apprentice and sending him reeling.

Talltail prepared to defend again, but it seemed that some cat else was blocking Darkpaw’s way, one of his lackeys that Talltail didn’t know by name. “Stonetooth looks bad, this isn’t going well, let's just get out of here while we can!” 

Talltail looked around wildly for Shrewclaw and Stonetooth, panic rising with every breath. Chaos had kicked up. Seeing their deputy in battle sent several ShadowClan warriors out of the undergrowth and the ruckus brought WindClan down to meet them. Sliding clumsily down the gravely slope, Talltail saw Stonetooth was up again and tearing at Shrewclaw as he came down. It was vicious and frenzied and there were bloody wounds around their necks. They're going to kill each other, Talltail realized. Shrewclaw was battered, almost swaying and painfully holding up a leg that he seemed to have landed on wrong, and blood ran down his chest. Any warrior should retreat in that state,  but he was seeing too much red to stay down. As Shrewclaw leaped, Stonetooth twisted around to meet him, red stained teeth barred. Talltail let out a furious yowl and caught Shrewclaw midair before he could come down on Stonetooth’s outstretched claws. Shrewclaw thudded to the ground and Talltail had to pin his foreleg to the ground as Shrewclaw, despite his injuries, tried to wrench himself free. They were outnumbered. If Stonetooth fell, he saw the warriors waiting to tear them apart in retaliation.

“Get--off!” Shrewclaw screeched

“You're going to get yourself killed! There was no call!”

 “I don’t care, I won’t let you take this from me now!” 

Shrewclaw kicked at him and wormed his way around Talltail as Stonetooth took a wobbly step forward. They’d barely met for a moment before Talltail thrust himself between them, wincing at the sting from two pairs of claws at once, but he wouldn’t let Stonetooth get at Shrewclaw again.

Talltail snarled, refusing to flinch away as he knocked Shrewclaw back again. Shrewclaw tried to shove him off but fell short, wheezing, spitting out blood. He was bleeding badly. So was his opponent. Stonetooth tried to scramble away but fell sideways and lay panting on the ground. Talltail stiffened, wondering if he really had been too late. Cedarstar and Heatherstar were finally there, rushing to the source of the clamor, both looking ready to leap into a fight if necessary. But the state of Stonetooth made Cedarstar stumble.

“Enough!” he yowled, his voice echoed around the trees as Cedarstar skidded to a stop over his deputy, who managed to sit upright but still couldn’t quite get to his paws, The leader turned snarling at the WindClan cats. His warriors had frozen, and WindClan hesitated, looking to their own leader, waiting for real instruction. 

In the dark, an angry pair of orange eyes stared wide at the heavily bleeding deputy and ducked away. Darkpaw was of course still watching. Talltail couldn’t help wondering if he was more upset about how much trouble he could get in if their deputy died then he was about the injury itself. Talltail felt his lip curl and he shook with fury, but held his tongue.

Cedarstar’s attention was dragged from his deputy to meet a white molly and a familiar grizzled gray shape. Ratfang and her mentor Sagewhisker were there among ShadowClans ranks.

“You shouldn’t be this far,” Cedarstar hissed quietly.

Their voices were hushed among the continuing warning snarls from warriors of both clans, Talltail could only just barely hear them.

“I came at blood scent. Look at him!” The pale medicine cat gestured to the limp deputy. “Is this sign enough for you? My apprentice was right. This night has been chaotic, cats lashing out without orders. This will never end here. It will burn us out. The signs were already clear to us, and are even more so now. We warned you against this.” Cedarstar gave his medicine cat a long look. He bristled, but the ShadowClan leader did not call for further attack. Please listen to your medicine cat! Talltail willed.

Ratfang stepped closer to place a paw at Stonetooth’s wounds. “Stonetooth was more strongly in favor of this fight then most. Now he may very well die for it.” She glanced at Shrewclaw with a hopeless look that made Talltail’s heart clench up. “This is enough blood, let there be no more. The stars are not shining favorably on this night.”

He gritted his teeth and stood, whipping around to where Heatherstar stood and the rest of ShadowClan was bristling and growling. 

“Do we want to end up no better than ThunderClan and RiverClan? Nearly every gathering, more reports of cats slain over the pile of rocks on their border! We’ve seen the damage it does to them!”

Cedarstar didn’t move, just stood staring at Stonetooth while Ratfang tried to help him.

Heatherstar spoke stiffly “My warrior speaks sense. I don’t want that kind of blood and rivalry to be my legacy as leader. Do you?”

“Damn the woods, then.” He heard the ShadowClan leader rasp. “I’m taking my deputy home.”

 He caught Ratfang’s eye briefly as she followed her clan, trailing Stonetooth’s body between the warriors that carried him. He might make it, but only if they hurried. Her gaze was somber and she only gave him the briefest of nods. It was the best I could do, he thought. 

Talltail didn’t have it in him to look back down at Shrewclaw, hearing his ragged gasps, his claws still tensed and fastened into Talltail’s legs. 

“You shouldn’t have stopped me--” he managed to spit. 

“Too bad.” Talltail spat back through gritted teeth.

 Hareflight had already bounded to his former apprentice's side. “Stars-” the old tom hissed as he pushed his muzzle under Shrewclaw, trying to get him up. Talltail stiffened as he saw Shrewclaw couldn’t stand on his own. Too much blood, was all he could think

The bloody warrior rasped to Hareflight “Sorry for ignoring you. But I’m not sorry enough to regret it.”

“Don’t try to talk right now,” Hareflight said sternly. His stoic voice was weak.

“Of course you're not sorry, you mouse-brain.” Talltail whispered. Of course Shrewclaw would have that resolve. Talltail rushed to help Hareflight, but despair was fighting it’s way up his throat. He’d seen for the first time in moons a glimmer of hope that the two of them could come to better terms after everything. There was a possibility for so many things. Talltail couldn’t have another reconciliation stolen from him. Stonetooth was not more important than that. He had promised Briarface, and he had promised Fallowspring. He couldn’t accept this loss. He wouldn’t. Shrewclaw could spit fury for the rest of their days at Talltail for taking this fight from him, but Talltail hadn’t come back to start breaking promises now.

Shrewclaw, you can’t die like this. I’m not letting you. He willed it, and focused on that will, as if it alone could stop his bleeding. But mere will had never worked for him before. As they limped back carrying Shrewclaw between them, Talltail was preparing himself for that old familiar jolt of pain, of hollowness, that came with loss. He focused all his senses on listening to Shrewclaw’s breathing, tensing with worry that each one would be his last. He didn’t hear Heatherstar’s words to the rest of the patrol, about marking borders, sending scouts to ensure they all left. None of it mattered. Only getting his clanmate home alive mattered. 

A worse battle had been avoided for now, but he knew in his heart it couldn’t last. He would face that pain. He would face hardship. That possibility was always waiting for him here. Briarface was already at their side before his brother was laid down in the medicine den. Talltail remained close by. Whatever pain would come from this, or from future battles, the only thing more painful than that reality of clan life was the thought of being too far away to help.

 After a long, agonizing night of waiting, Hawkehart and Briarface rushing for their supplies, Talltail released a breath as Shrewclaw, bloody and haggard, slowly, opened his eyes and glared deep into Talltail. 

“You know how important this was to me,” he hissed weakly, when no one else was close enough to hear.

 Talltail stared back, impassive. “I do,” he said quietly. “And I will not apologize for not letting you die today. No matter how angry you are for it.” He angrily gestured to Briarface, anxiously sorting cobweb, Fallowspring pushing her way through the crowd with her brother, waiting to see him. “They are more important than Stonetooth. You useless mouse-brain. And you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Shrewclaw said nothing more, but as Briarface leaned over him and Talltail was forced to back out of the den, he saw Shrewclaw let out a weak sigh as his brother paused his clumsy cobweb application long enough to press his forehead against Shrewclaw’s, exasperated and heavy with relief.

chapter list / previous / next

[eds-art-factory]

What are some other supernatural romances that you like and recommend? They can be any media; books, films, tv-shows, anime and manga.

……. So maybe it’s because of my preferences but the romance aspect of a lot of these are subjective or minimal (They’re more plot focused and people just kind of fall in love along the way)

It is impossible to like, do a search on this because a million like YA novels pop up, and like, I’m not even looking for NOTHING BUT ROMANCE, I want a sick plot and ALSO romance

but off the top of my head this is the best I can do

Manga/Anime

Fruits basket: slaps obviously, I should not even have to mention it, textbook pure love and acceptance by the heroine ends up saving the monster boy from despair. Tohru is an incredible protagonist.

Noragami: Suffering heavy, all gods are real, read the manga, the art is beautiful and the anime has a tone problem where they try to make it more comedic like……………….Noragami is not a comedy, it has comedic moments and is very funny, but the story really dark in places. (Also it’s written by a woman so, even the like, token sexy character isn’t that bad fan service wise and also is a character outside of that)

BEASTARS: Uses animal nature as a metaphor for society, we’ve all seen zootopia and Robin Hood, we know how this goes. If you’re a sucker for size difference (and I am, note Sidon and 9 foot tall Vampire lady) you’ll probably get it. Zootopia’s success managed to normalize furries enough that Beastars was able to be made and honesty I’m proud. Season one is on Netflix, but you’re not going to want to watch it in any communal areas because there will be questions and scenes that you will not want to have to explain to your parents or housemates because….it’s spicy.

Frau Faust: like the Ancient Magus Bride but less problematic, can enjoy mostly guilt free

Mugen Spiral: It’s like a two volume manga, I’ll admit I have not read it since I was a teen, so maybe it has not aged gracefully shrugs

(Honorary mention but it’s not a romance)

Girl from the other side: I AM PRAYING THAT THIS WILL NOT BE A ROMANCE AND TURN INTO GROOMING, I JUST WANT THE MONSTER TO BE HER DAD, WHY IS THAT SO HARD FOR PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND SHE IS A CHILD. IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ROMANCE AS A GENRE SO MY FEARS MAY BE UNWARRANTED I’VE JUST BEEN HURT TOO MANY TIMES BEFORE

Movies

Shape of Water: It’s literally a supernatural romance but also…textbook using the “falling in love with a monster“ as a metaphor for marginalized groups like, it’s set in the 60’s and the villain is a white guy trying to ruin the lives of the good guys; a mute woman, a gay man and a woman of color

:I

It’s very on the nose, and that can be…..a little upsetting, but the film is like……a masterpiece so I would recommend it anyway.

Beauty and the Beast: ………everyone agrees the beast becoming human was a downgrade and I’m not going to say any more on that.

….Venom: ….should not count but I feel like spiritually it SHOULD count……….Venom is so queer coded and yet not queer enough?? I think they are actually in love in one version but not in a lot of adaptations which bites.

Good Omens: I’ve always loved the book, but the miniseries adaptation is SO GOOD. Aziraphale and Crowley are like….queer coded but they are….IN LOVE AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE and the miniseries LEANS into that interpretation

Books

Naomi Novik’s novels: Uprooted and Spinning Silver were great although Uprooted didn’t really win me over in the romance department and I prefer Spinning Silver. I love fairytales so I’m always a sucker for fairytale retellings that….are not modernized in the wrong way.

Video games:

Undertale: …….. :I I’m not wrong.

Liar princess and the blind prince: …..I have not played this, so I can’t actually verify if it’s good or add any input…….but it seems like my aesthetic.

Podcasts are so gay:

Magnus Archives: Eldritch horror is scary, but also it’s canonically gay and kind of about how those two things kind of intermingle. Passes the “I listened to a lot of it, but I was still able to sleep peacefully afterward” test. The first….ten episodes rely too heavily on scary music, but they tone it down after a while thank god.

Welcome to night vale: Also gay and surreal horror, same deal but less scary.

The Adventure zone: DnD game by the three Mcleroy brothers and their dad. Started out as just a one off adventure but everyone accidentally got way too invested and it became AMAZING.

There’s this thing that happens in the princess Bride with the line “Hello my name is Anigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die” and it is set up in a way that is funny and a joke…………………….

And then 3/4 of the way through the film…it is not a joke anymore, and it HURTS YOU. That is one of my FAVORITE TROPES IN ANY MEDIA EVER and they fucking DID THAT AND IT HURTS.

If you’re not an artist and your job doesn’t mean that you need to listen to a constant stream of audio media while you work, you can read the graphic novel adaptation, but it won’t hit you the same way I think.

[cto10121]

The bad Shakespeare takes keep coming, I see. This one had the cleverness to couch itself as a personal narrative (makes it much more interesting, tbh). But as bad Shakespeare takes are my bread and butter, my boon and bane, mamma mia here we go again, with Merchant of Venice.

“But those who thought the play was irredeemably antisemitic were, the consensus went, vulgar and whiny—​and, completely coincidentally, they were also Jewish, which somehow magically invalidated their opinions on this subject.”

I’m glad (is that even the right word?) this author found scholars that don’t think this play is anti-Semitic, but my experience with scholarship has been way more mixed than that. Suffice to say, this is literally all the play is known for these days, and views of the play as anti-Semitic are everywhere (Rosenbaum even had a hot take that since the Nazis liked it, it must be anti-Semitic). Didn’t know Harold Bloom thinks this play is anti-Semitic, though. That in itself is a bit of a red flag, as Bloom is a notoriously poor reader of Shakespeare.

“[I]n Merchant, Portia unhappily fulfills her father’s requirements of her suitors, while in Il Pecorone, the lady enjoys drugging her suitors and robbing them blind. By removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the suggestion that malicious schemers come from all walks of life.”

Or, by removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the clear and abhorrent sexism of his original source that turned a woman robbed of her autonomy by her father’s will into a criminal. It’s almost as if you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“Dr. Lopez, one of the most respected physicians of the 16th century, had indiscreetly revealed that he once treated the Earl of Essex for venereal disease. The earl took revenge by framing Dr. Lopez for treason and arranging for his torture; while on the rack, Dr. Lopez “confessed”—​though “like a Jew,” as the court record states, he denied all charges at trial, while the attorney for the Crown referred to him matter-​of-​factly as “a perjuring murdering traitor and Jewish doctor.”

This is a very twisted account of the Lopez affair and Essex’s motives in going against him, at least to my understanding. For context, Lopez was accused of receiving loads of money from the King of Spain to poison Queen Elizabeth.

According to Stephen Greenblatt, in Will of the World: “Essex had tried some years before to recruit Lopez as a secret agent. Lopez’s refusal—he chose instead directly to inform the queen—may have been prudent, but it created in the powerful earl a very dangerous enemy. After his arrest, he was initially imprisoned at Essex House and interrogated by the earl himself. But Lopez had powerful allies in the rival faction of the queen’s senior adviser William Cecil, Lord Burghley, and his son, Robert Cecil, who also participated in the interrogation and reported to the queen that the charges against her physician were baseless.” Lopez apparently had been taken bribes from various sources, and confessed (freely? under torture?) “that he had indeed entered into a treasonous-sounding negotiation with the king of Spain, but he insisted that he had done so only in order to cozen the king out of his money.” Weird.

Greenblatt isn’t a historian, though, and Essex was indeed an asshole to Lopez, (and for what is worth, I feel Lopez was innocent; I just get those vibes) but so far I can find no other source that Essex actively framed Lopez. Most likely he did some sleuthing, dug up some questionable, compromising stuff, and tried to blow a hearth flame into a firestorm.

“After all, the historical record gives Queen Elizabeth a cookie for dawdling on signing Dr. Lopez’s death warrant; her doubts about his guilt even led her to mercifully allow his family to keep his property, not unlike the equally merciful Duke of Venice in Shakespeare’s play.”

Again, Lopez had powerful allies (doesn’t get much higher than Burghley), and again, re: Greenblatt: “According to court observers, Elizabeth gave Essex a tongue-lashing, ‘calling him rash and temerarious youth, to enter into a matter against the poor man, which he could not prove, and whose innocence she knew well enough.’” A cupcake, then?

“And it is of course entirely unclear whether this trial and public humiliation of an allegedly greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian, rapturously reported in the press with myriad antisemitic embellishments, had anything at all to do with Shakespeare’s play about the trial and public humiliation of a greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian—​which Shakespeare composed shortly after Dr. Lopez decomposed. Most likely these things were completely unrelated.”

Nearly all the major Shakespeare biographies and articles I’ve read literally and explicitly talks about the possible influence of Lopez’s execution on Merchant of Venice and names it as an inspiration: Greenblatt, (he even headcanons that Shakespeare watched the execution!) Bate, Ackroyd. That’s how Horn managed to ping my BS radar something awful—because I had read about it, many times, even if it was mentioned in passing. It’s solid, legit Shakespearean academic fanon. The sarcasm is really unwarranted, and childish besides.

“It was damned hard to hear the nuance while parsing lines like “Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal,” or “My master’s a very Jew; give him a present, give him a halter,” or explaining what Shylock meant when he planned to “go in hate, to feed upon / The prodigal Christian.”

The first two are the fool’s, Lancelot’s, lines, I think. As for Shylock’s hatred toward Christians, while ugly, it’s entirely understandable given the Christian characters’ treatment of him pre-play and during it (Antonio spitting on Shylock’s gaberdine and then asking him to borrow money from him is called out by Shylock himself for its sheer hypocrisy). It also fits Shylock’s character as an unassimilated Jew, resenting Christian hypocrisy and racism.

“The actor began the brief soliloquy that every English-​speaking Jew is apparently meant to take as a compliment: ‘I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? . . . ​If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’

“Wait, that’s the part where he’s more human?”

[…]“Sure,” I told my son, game-​facing him back in the rearview. “He’s reminding us how he’s like everyone else. He’s a normal person with normal feelings.”

My son laughed. “You seriously fell for that?”

[…] “What do you mean?”

“Shylock’s just saying he wants revenge! Like, ‘Oh, yeah? If I’m a regular human, then I get to be eee-​vil like a regular human!’ This is the evil monologue thing that every supervillain does! ‘I’ve had a rough life, and if you were me you would do the same thing, so that’s why I’m going to KILL BATMAN, mu-​hahaha!’ He’s just manipulating the other guy even more!”

And then the crowd applauded, Harold Bloom cried, and the mayor gave the author’s six-year-old son a gold medal for his Brave Hot Take. Honestly, this was the most unbelievable part of the essay I’ve read. Unless this kid has been reading academic essays on MoV that posit this exact same interpretation (“Shylock was just using humanistic rhetoric to justify his ~bloodthirsty revenge!”), this one’s for a fake Internet stories anthology. Shylock may be a dour, miserable pain in the ass, but he is no Barabas, an actual anti-Semitic caricature—he has a character, and a recognizably human one, and the play bears it out that he is right in his anger.

“I reviewed the other moments scholars cite to prove Shylock’s “humanity.” There were two lines of Shylock treasuring his dead wife’s ring, unlike the play’s Christian men who give their wives’ rings away. But unlike the other men, Shylock never gets his ring back—​because his daughter steals it, and becomes a Christian, and inherits what remains of his estate at the play’s triumphant end.”

Er, this is a non sequitur—that last has nothing to do with the first. The point is, Shylock doesn’t give away his ring; the fact that his daughter stole it means nothing to his treasuring it. It may be proof of the play’s marginalization of Shylock (which accurately if sadly reflects real-life systematic marginalization), but not his humanity. Shakespeare just doesn’t do backstories, even for major characters, so it is significant that he gave Shylock a wife/beloved in the first place.

“Finally, scholars point to the many times Shylock explains why he is so revolting: Christians treat him poorly, so he returns the favor. But for this to satisfy, one must accept that Jews are revolting to begin with, and that their repulsiveness simply needs to be explained.”

This makes absolutely no sense at all. If one accepts Jews are inherently revolting, then no explanation need be given for when a Jewish character acts revolting! The racist accepts the revolting Jewish characterization without qualm. The fact that the play insists on his grievance is significant.

“We listened together as Shylock went to court to extract his pound of flesh; as the heroine, chirping about the quality of mercy, forbade him to spill the Christian’s blood as he so desperately desired; as the court confiscated his property, along with his soul through forced conversion; as the play’s most cherished characters used his own words to taunt and demean him, relishing their vanquishing of the bloodthirsty Jew.”

YMMV, but to me there are no cherished characters in this play. That’s the whole point! Everyone is so mired in this dreary capitalist materialism that denigrates genuine human connection into mere transaction. Everything to these characters is money, money, money (and class), or at least tainted by it. Shylock is simply the most overt (and honest) of the lot. Love relationships, religion are impoverished; Portia and Bassanio are scarcely more suited than Portia and her other suitors. Shylock and Antonio are Jews and Christians in-name-only: They are capitalists first and foremost. Portia is a smarter, more likable Karen. Lancelot isn’t funny. Jessica is okay, but her leaving her father is framed as a asshole moment at least in one instance. Portia is probably the most lovable, but she has her asshole moments too. There are no truly awful characters, but you don’t need to demonize and dehumanize your whole cast into two-dimensional racists just to make a point.

Merchant of Venice is not the best of plays. It is one of Shakespeare’s experiments, a proto-problem play before his Jacobean era, using dark comedy and a slight bent of farce to explore and elucidate social issues, racism and discrimination, chiefly. At least it tries, anyway. Taming of the Shrew is the first proto-problem play done completely farcical, which at least makes it compelling in a slapstick-satire way; Merchant is much more sociologically astute, but also more dull and coolly distant even from its own concerns. I don’t blame anyone, much less Jewish people, for not liking the play or thinking it a masterpiece. I myself don’t, though for reasons that have nothing to do with the usual ones. I like what Shakespeare was trying to do and I think he did some things very well. It has ambition and thought. But I feel like for most of it Shakespeare was on writing autopilot while mentally looking around for something a bit meatier to adapt and develop. It’s a jogging-in-one-place play; he has a couple of those.

In sum: Author argues for complicated play’s anti-Semitism, ends up just saying the racist slurs by the flawed/asshole Christian characters made her and her son uncomfortable (feat. A distorted and even misleading account of the Lopez affair). Plus some internalized anti-Semitism to sort through, methinks.

[cavalierious-whim]

Two’s a Crowd (FE3H)

Felannie | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | Teen | Complete There’s only one horse. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

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A/N: This was a Secret Santa give and I was asked to write ‘There was only one Horse’. Read here on AO3 for better quality! Also, I’m on Twitter!

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While Felix has never been one to follow the rules, he now understands why Byleth is so reluctant to let them roam outside the gates of Garreg Mach freely.

Sure, they’re adults and they can make their own dumb decisions. Still, it’s wartime; there are crest beasts and ample opportunity to be stupid enough to get yourself into a pickle.

Felix frowns. Annette’s colorful words, not his.

Byleth often turns a blind eye to the odd training session outside the Monastery, especially when it comes to Felix. Byleth knows that Felix can handle himself when it comes down to it, and while the Professor’s expression is prone to permanent frowning, he’s never said no. Not outright.

It’s more like carefully placed and unasked advice that he knows Felix won’t ever listen to but can claim to have given all the same.

“Just in case you find yourself gored,” said Byleth one dreary afternoon. “I’ll have the chance to say ‘I told you so’.”

So far, Byleth has been denied the pleasure because Felix is a slippery bastard; far too stubborn to die. And, as it turns out, he’s not the only stubborn person in the world, which brings him to his current problem:

Annette crashes through the underbrush alongside him, sagging with weariness and covered head to toe in mud and Goddess knows what else. It’s exactly Felix’s luck that she’s the one to sneak out after him because her curious little nose got the best of her.

At least it’s a cute nose.

“It just had to be a crest beast,” says Annette, mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. That’s cute on her too.

“It had to be two,” amends Felix. He’s never had any luck with anything, least of all women, so he doesn’t know why he insists on longing for Annette. Then, he suddenly remembers something else, smacking his hand against his forehead. “Ingrid is going to kill us.”

A long moment stretches between the two of them as they stand there in the woods looking at each other.

“We’ve lost horses before,” says Annette. Sure, they’ve lost horses, but never a Fraldairan Marsh Tucky. And its accompanying mare because, naturally, that was the horse Annette picked. Ingrid’s captious about her thoroughbreds and she’d brought those from Galatea personally. Felix pauses in his step, leveling Annette with a tired stare, to which she sighs in response. “Okay, yeah, she’s going to kill us.”

Annette is lucky that Felix likes her. More than likes her. Kind-of maybe loves her, not that he’s the confessing kind. But, all her goofy songs and eternal optimism in the world won’t save him from Ingrid’s wrath, Mercedes’s clipped threats for endangering Annie, or Byleth’s contempt for attracting her attention by merely existing.

Byleth’s a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to intra-army romance.

Annette’s mouth then tips into a tiny little smile and Felix wonders if it’s a bad thing that he likes the idea she’d followed him. She’d said that it was dumb of him to go it alone and that she’d been worried. The only person that worries about him nowadays is Sylvain, and it’s entirely unwarranted, unwanted, and suffocating in every way possible. The change is, admittedly, nice.

“There’s a village this direction,” says Felix, pointing to the west. “They’ve got a decent inn with tolerable food, and a stable with likely a few horses for sale.”

“Do we have the coin?” asks Annette.

“We’ll manage,” says Felix, thankful that he’d brought his purse with him that day. He doesn’t always, so maybe he’s luckier than he’d thought. His gaze slides back to Annette who watches him with interest, her eyebrows drawn up. “What?” he snaps, testily.

“Nothing,” says Annette, but judging by the sly little smirk on her face, it’s anything but. Felix doesn’t have the time to think about it anything further.

“We’re losing daylight,” says Felix. “We should get walking, otherwise Byleth will close the gates for the night.”

“He’d let us in,” says Annette.

“He won’t,” says Felix. He’d know, he’s camped outside the entrance before, punishment for making it back late. There’s a pause and then Annette laughs, causing Felix to scowl. Even if he likes the sound of it.

“He’d let me in, then,” says Annette.

Felix grumbles at that. “He probably would.” Annette smirks at him again and Felix rolls his eyes, but he’s only mildly irritated. Truly, Annette is lucky that she doesn’t incite his ire much. Felix wonders how this entire thing would go if it was literally anyone else stuck out here with him.

They’d probably have a sword through their neck already, or at least, be slightly maimed. Felix is in a maiming sort of mood. He and Annette head westward, slogging through the slick mud leftover from earlier rain.

“Hopefully, there won’t be any more beasts out here,” says Annette, and Felix whirls on her, pressing a finger against her lips. She blinks, surprised. But she doesn’t move away, if anything, she leans into the touch.

“Don’t!” hisses Felix.

“Don’t what?” she says against his finger, her breath warm against his skin.

“Say something like that. Don’t you know that’s exactly how it works?”

“What works?” asks Annette.

Felix groans, almost certain that she’s being obtuse on purpose because Annette’s the teasing sort. “It’s bad luck,” he says. “The moment you say something like that, it--”

There’s a deafening roar behind them that echoes through the trees. And then the woods fall deathly quiet. Annette swallows thickly, but to her credit, doesn’t pale or look scared. She’s a plucky little thing and that’s in part what Felix loves about her most. Annette isn’t one to back down, she seeks danger out. Case in point, trailing after him on her own.

Felix pulls his hand away from her.

“We’ve no choice,” says Annette. It’s not a question.

Felix draws his sword and readies a bolt of Thoron. “Might as well make it quick,” is all he says in return.

Annette answers with a resigned sigh.

#

Turns out, their luck is worse than anticipated, not that Felix is surprised. This entire trip has been working against him since before he left the Monastery.

“I have a bad feeling,” Byleth told him as he saddled up.

“Nonsense,” Felix said, annoyed at the Professor’s incessant mothering.

Felix is eating that word now, laying on his belly in the underbrush, slick with muck and worms. Annette shifts beside him, leaning closer.

“How long do we wait?” she asks.

“Until the damn beast is gone, obviously,” says Felix.

Annette’s eyes narrow at his tone. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You said the words,” says Felix. “You should never say the words.”

She huffs at that. “You’re the one that forgot a spare blade. Since when do you strap only one sword to your hip?” Then she pauses. “Also, what are the chances that it would just crack right down the middle--”

“The entire point of laying in this filth is to be quiet, Annette, and let the beast leave.”

Annette’s mouth snaps shut, but it’s not without an annoyed scowl shot in his direction. “You’re evil,” murmurs Annette, just loud enough for him to hear. Felix knows it’s absolutely on purpose. She’s got a mean streak in her at times, he’s just never been on the end of it.

The mud and foliage hide their smell, and eventually, the crest beast determines them to be a lost cause and saunters away. Felix reaches out to grab Annette’s wrist before she can get up. “Wait, just a little bit longer. It might come back.”

They lay there for longer than she wants, Felix can tell by her squirming, but Byleth’s words have been prophetic: it’s just one of those days. Finally, they rise. Annette looks down at her dress and cringes at the sight.

“I’ll have to burn this and get Mercie to make me a new one.”

“Mercedes has more important things to do than sew garments,” says Felix with an annoyed huff.

Annette narrows her eyes at him. “I’ll remind you that this is your fault.”

“I didn’t ask for you to sneak out after me.”

“You brought that upon yourself when you decided to go out on your own.”

Felix glowers. “Which I do, often.”

Annette shoots him a rival glare. “Because you have no sense of self-preservation. Honestly, Felix, I should have come with you sooner. How often are you so ill-prepared? How unlike you.”

Felix can’t deny that one; how unlike him indeed. “I’ve been distracted lately,” he finally says, and Annette’s face softens slightly. She thinks that he’s talking about the war, but that isn’t it actually, it’s more so the tight feeling in his chest that he gets when he looks at her. He’s taken to marking up trees in frustration, away from prying eyes in the training ground.

The dramatic irony of her blaming Felix isn’t lost on him.

“It’s going to get dark,” says Annette. Felix frowns. How astute and glaringly obvious. “And, according to you, Byleth will abandon you outside the gates.”

“Wouldn’t be a first,” gripes Felix.

“So,” starts Annette, rolling back on her heels slightly. Her hands are tucked neatly behind her, all manners despite looking like she crawled out of a sewer. “To the village then. We’ll get a room.”

Felix, who’d already turned around to head west, stops dead in his tracks. Then he closes his eyes. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Two rooms, he thinks. He can afford two rooms, he’s got enough gold for at least that.

When he looks back to Annette, she’s already beaming at him like she always does. Felix wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. Instead, he wants to do something a little more drastic, like pull her in for a hug.

Which is ridiculous, because Felix doesn’t hug people.

“Felix?” asks Annette. “You’re staring.”

It takes everything in him not to wince. “Mud,” he says, dumbly. “And sticks. In your hair.”

Eloquent, Felix is not. Despite this, Annette takes the explanation in stride and their walk to the village isn’t so terrible considering.

#

“Say that again, but the answer better be different.”

The innkeeper swallows, his thick neck turning a little bit red. Felix threatens people often enough that he’s got it down to a science. Arms crossed over the chest, his foot tapping in annoyance. The worst scowl he can manage followed by a flash of steel.

He’s having to make do without that last one.

“We’ve only one room left,” says the Innkeeper.

It takes everything for Felix not to jump the desk and choke the man out.

“Felix,” says Annette, resting her hand against his arm. He doesn’t pull away and neither does she, her fingers curling into his quilted sleeve. “It isn’t his fault. The men out in the bar must be the reinforcements we’re waiting on.”

Felix massages his temple. Right, reinforcements; Byleth had told them all they were expecting another Magic Corps to show up. Just their luck. Or lack thereof. He looks to Annette, who looks back at him, large eyes framed attractively by delicate eyelashes.

Goddess above, he can’t do this.

“You’ll take the room,” says Felix, finally tugging his arm away from her grasp. “I’ll stay in the stable.”

“Absolutely not,” says Annette.

“There’s no room there, either,” says the innkeeper unwisely. Upon Felix’s dangerous glare, the man immediately adds: “I’ve got two stable boys who bunk there.” They would find the one inn that employs by way of food and shelter, and not coin.

The innkeeper takes a deep breath and then bravely says, “There are two beds. If that makes a difference.”

It does, but only barely. Felix eyes the man warily, but slaps down a handful of gold.

That’s when Annette does the unthinkable and says, “And a bath, please. And fresh clothes.”

Felix is going to sleep in a stall with a horse if that’s what it takes, because he cannot, cannot share a room with Annette if she’s intent on bathing. Annette doesn’t think about these kinds of things. She’s not a healer like Mercedes, but she does her share in the medical tents. She sees a body like she sees everything else; just as it is and nothing more.

When he finally meets her gaze, she’s looking at him expectantly. Her eyes flash to his coin purse and then back to the pile he’s left on the counter. Felix lets out a long-suffering sigh and slaps down a few more coins.

“For the bath. And the clothes,” he says tersely. All Annette does is smile widely, happiness practically beaming off of her and she looks utterly ridiculous, covered in the mess that she is.

The room isn’t large, but there are two beds as promised. The stableboys haul a bath inside and Annette has the forethought to direct them to place it behind the changing screen. Felix lets loose a breath. Small blessings and some actual luck, finally.

Annette sings as she bathes. Felix washes his face in the basin by the door and changes into the clothes they’ve been provided, before settling into one of the beds. The moment he hits the mattress, he realizes how weary he is. It’s been a long day of dodging crest beasts and avoiding pesky feelings.

“Felix,” calls Annette from behind the screen, “has Byleth actually left you outside the gate after coming back late.”

Felix snorts a laugh. “Once. The lesson was learned.”

Annette chuckles and then goes back to her made-up tune. “Oh, how I love to bathe. Wash away the icky bits, ‘cause being dirty is just the pits.”

It isn’t so much that her voice is good, it’s just nice. Calming. Sweet. Felix closes his eyes and listens, drifting off to the soft tune on her lips. Comforting when you think about it because Annette sings about the things that she loves.

He falls asleep before her song shifts, singing about a dark, handsome swordsman instead.

#

There’s only one horse.

It’s a curse, straight from one of those ridiculous romance novels that Sylvain pretends he doesn’t like to read. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

Annette has the gall to look amused. “It’ll be fine, Felix,” is what she says.

It will be the exact opposite of fine because while Felix has been very good at keeping her an arm’s length away, that isn’t an option here.

Felix glares at the stablemaster who regards him with an apologetic look. The only reason Felix doesn’t gut him right then and there is because it isn’t his fault. The man isn’t responsible for the delay in new livestock, the rain had done that. Regrettably, because Felix very much wants to stab something. Anything.

His head falls back, cheeks to the sky, eyes slipping closed as he lets out a long, drawn-out groan. This is divine punishment, Felix thinks, because he’s too much of a coward to just tell the damn girl that he likes her.

Or loves her. But really, at this point, what difference does it matter?

Annette pulls herself up first, settling into the saddle with ease. Felix turns to drop gold into the stablemaster’s hand, who offers a small smile in return.

“If it’s any consolation--”

“It’s not,” Felix cuts in.

“-- I think that she likes you back.”

At that moment, Felix wishes that murder for entirely inane reasons is legal. But alas, it isn’t, and Byleth would be quite irate if Felix were to remove the head of this man. The Professor loathes cleaning up messes and Felix makes a lot of them. So, the stablemaster keeps his life.

Only because Felix is too lazy to think of a valid excuse, or cook up a proper plan.

He pulls himself up behind Annette and settles in easier than he thought possible. Annette’s tiny enough that it’s not as awkward as it could be. Felix slips his arms around her waist and she hands him the reins, and then they’re off at a small trot.

The horse is calm and moves along the road well. Annette leans back against Felix’s chest, humming a tune. Felix is relatively relaxed. The Goddess hasn’t set the world on fire just yet. Small blessings.

“This is nice,” says Annette.

Not how Felix would phrase it. He’s caught somewhere between ‘this is divine’ and ‘this is absolute hell’. He allows himself the former though, arms settling around her closer than he’d normally allow. His nose close enough to the crown of her head that he can smell the fresh soap she’d bathed with. He enjoys the way she fits against him.

Felix would say that Sylvain’s a saint for putting up with this on the regular, but it’d be a lie. Worse, Felix gets why it’s a lie because Annette in his arms feels nice, even if it’s on the back of a horse, and only because there isn’t another choice.

“Nice,” agrees Felix halfheartedly, when he remembers to reply.

“You know, one could even say romantic.”

“There’s nothing romantic about being forced to share a horse because the Magic Corps didn’t think to bring their own.”

Annette turns her head slightly to look back at him, lips quirked into an amused smile. “Not one bit?” she asks.

Felix looks down at her, frowning slightly. What on earth does that mean? And why is she so amused? “I said that it was nice.”

“Felix, you look like you ate some of Flayn’s cooking.”

“This is definitely preferable to that,” says Felix, meaning it.

Annette sits there, twisted awkwardly in front of him for a moment longer, watching him. Felix squirms slightly, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally, she says, “I must admit, I’m at a loss.”

“For what?” asks Felix.

“Nothing,” says Annette. Felix frowns again because now she just isn't making sense. But then again, Annette often doesn’t make sense, it’s part of her charm.

The Monastery isn’t far from the village, barely an hour by horse. The rest of their ride passes without any issue. No crest beasts, no bandits, and miraculously, Felix doesn’t entirely combust after enduring close contact with Annette.

He’s decided to treasure the moment because it’s never happening again.

It’s no surprise that Byleth is waiting for them at the gate, their arrival having been spotted by a lookout and announced. The Professor looks calmly collected and not at all worried. Felix’s eyes narrow, instantly suspicious.

Felix drops from the horse first before reaching up and helping Annette down. She lands gracefully, her hands grasping Felix’s forearms. She doesn’t let go. Felix tries to pull away, but she holds tight, and damn, she has an impressively strong grip. She just looks at him, a soft little smile on her face.

“Annette,” says Felix, unsure how to continue.

“Felix,” replies Annette. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re such a gentleman.”

Felix is anything but, and he’s about to tell her that when she finally let's go. Only to reach up and grab him by the face, fingers curling around his jaw. She yanks him down, none too gently.

And then, Annette’s kissing him, pressing her lips against his with careful precision. Felix is surprised but he doesn’t go entirely rigid. His hands slide up to grasp her cheeks and he kisses her back. It’s not sweet in its touch, but it’s not scorching either, somewhere middling of the two. Her hand snakes around the back of his neck to grip him possessively, pulling him closer.

Felix responds eagerly, his fingers slipping into her hair, tugging her face into a different angle to slot their mouths against each other better. Then, he parts his lips, intent on licking into her mouth--

There’s a cough from next to them and they break apart. Felix doesn’t look away from Annette whose cheeks are tinged pink. Annette looks to the side. “Byleth,” she greets coolly.

“Um,” starts Felix, but can’t think of words past that.

“I’m pleased to see that the two of you are okay,” Byleth deadpans.

Annette is looking at Felix again, and his gaze is still glued to hers, unsure what’s just happened, still trying to process the kiss. That she’d started. That she’d enthusiastically responded too. That she seemed annoyed to have been interrupted in the midst of. The stuff of dreams, really, specifically his dreams, and more often than he’d like to admit.

Felix’s brain is having a hard time comprehending.

“As I said, Felix took fantastic care of me,” says Annette kindly. Then, she reaches up and brushes Felix’s bangs away from his forehead.

“I’d prefer it if the two of you would continue taking care of yourselves within the gate.” Byleth pauses. “And after the meeting. We have things to discuss.”

The mention of a war council breaks the spell that’d fallen over Felix. He can feel his skin burning bright red in embarrassment, and worst of all, Annette looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

And she’s holding his hand. He hadn’t noticed her grabbing it.  

“When I was singing about the dark, handsome swordsman, who’d you think I was imagining?” asks Annette, words quiet enough for only Felix to hear.

“When you were singing about what?”

Annette pouts. “Oh darn, so you were asleep then. I’d hoped you weren’t.”

“Annette, what on earth--”

“Later,” says Annette. “Mostly because Byleth is giving you the stink eye, and I think it’s because we’ve delayed his carefully planned schedule.”

One look at the Professor proves her right. Felix clears his throat and takes several steps away, before grabbing the reins of the horse. “Right, then. I’ll just handle this. The horse, I mean.”

“I’ll see you in the war room,” says Annette, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

Felix decides that he doesn’t hate the light-hearted, flabbergasted feeling that’s floating through him. He also knows that the moment he regains his wits abashment will hit him full force because he’d practically eaten Annette’s face off in front of half the Monastery guard.

And Byleth.

So, Felix properly excuses himself in favor of stabling their new horse and perhaps locking himself away forever out of embarrassment.

If he’d stayed just a moment longer, he’d have seen Annette flash Byleth a conspiratorial wink as she passes him by. And how Byleth smiles slyly in return, tapping at his nose like he’s keeping a secret.

[goodwltch]

@viviskull​ said: "alt!"

Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!- Accepting!

“Gotta say, I really don’t understand what Lila sees in this kid.” So the girl says with a nonchalant little shrug, completely disregarding the fact that said ‘kid’ is two years her senior. “That’s not just a blind joke, either. I was fully expecting her to pick up the candy-haired one (whatever that means), considering she’s the one that kicks butt, and Lila clearly enjoys girls that kick butt.

Exhibit A standing right before you.” A smug proclamation accompanied by her vaguely gesturing at herself- which, admittedly, isn’t exactly unwarranted considering she’s the strongest earth-bender. Smug nonetheless, though. 

“If nothing else, slime monster girl at the least reminds me of Katara... for some reason... but, THIS kid? She’s more like Twinkle Toes than anyone else. Stupidly nice, wanting to master everything instead of specializing in one thing, and with way more moral turmoil than any kid their age should have to deal with.

Couldn’t relate less.

And the fact that I’m here and mister chosen one isn’t should tell you how inconsistent Lila’s tastes are.” She reclines back in her seat casually, starting to pick her teeth like the gross child she is... and not stopping, even as her brow twitches at the slightest vibration.

“I know you’re down there, by the way.” And, without even getting up, she lifts one foot up and stomps down on the ground beneath her- sending the blue bonsai demon that had been burrowing below flying out in an eruption of Earth, undoubtedly faceplanting somewhere behind her.

Toph Beifong ll Avatar the Last Airbender *Want to play in the future!

[thekytchensynk]

Happy Birthday Sero

Have some nonsense because why not right?

“So, surprise party. What do you think?”

Jirou just stared at him for a long few seconds, chewing on a piece of pocky. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“A surprise party,” she repeated, inflection turning it into a question. 

Sero nodded, then looked around the room. Had he … interrupted something? Sure, being asked to help plan a surprise party wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence but his classmate was acting like she expected him to be pulling a prank on her.

Leaning back in her chair, Jirou gave her silence another few seconds before asking, “Why me? Why not Kaminari? Or Kirishima? No offense, I like Mina and all, and I’m happy to help. But aren’t you guys like her best friends?”

It was Sero’s turn to let a silence settle. How to explain without it sounding kiiiinda mean. His eyes meandered over the fresh-cut grass of UA’s lawn, the scent of which still hung on the air, but no easy answer presented itself in the landscaping.

Defeated, he slumped back over his knees. “Have you met them?” he muttered. “They’re great, seriously, but Mina can sniff out something like this at a hundred paces. If I ask them for help, this will stop being a surprise party within a literal minute.”

Jirou sighed. “You know it won’t be that much better with me, right? She can see when basically anyone is hiding things from her, right?” Her voice dropped to a mutter as she added, “‘S like a radar, I swear.”

“Yeah. But you and I have a little cover when it comes to birthday planning around now,” Sero said.

Jirou looked pointedly away. “How do people find this stuff OUT.” When she looked back at him, he raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “How? How does she always…”

“It’s a gift,” Sero agreed. “A really irritating gift sometimes. It’s like she can see into your brain. Which is kinda why I wanna do this?”

“So like … the surprise is the present?” Jirou asked. 

“Yeah.”

After considering this for a few more seconds, Jirou nodded. “All right, fine. We plan a surprise party for Mina? And if people ask, we claim the party’s for each other? That’s not gonna raise some eyebrows?”

“We’re teenagers living in a dorm building together. Passing someone a pencil in class raises eyebrows,” Sero said. 

“Fair. All right. Let’s do it.”

“So, a surprise party! What do you think?”

Kaminari and Kirishima exchanged a look. Then, as though acting on an impulse from a single, shared brain cell, they looked back to Mina and said in unison, “We’re in!”

But almost immediately, Kirishima added, “But … if we’re all in on it, isn’t he going to get suspicious?”

“He might suspect, but he’s not going to get, like, aggressive about it,” Mira said. “So if you feel like you’re about to let something slip, just leave. It’s only for a week anyway.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful, frowning at the floor with a somewhat unwarranted intensity. The other two stayed quiet, glancing at one another and then just watching, curious where this was going to go.

“Won’t we need a lot of stuff?” he asked at last. “I mean, food, and a cake, and music, and decorations?”

Mina dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “It’s not that big a deal,” she said. “You handle the music, yeah? Kirishima, can you work out the decorations? And I can do the rest?”

The grins on their faces told her all she needed to know.

This was gonna be fun

A couple days later, Sero and Jirou sat on a couch by the window in the common room between classes. Outside, bright summer sunshine slanted down toward them and only the tinting in the glass kept it from blinding the pair. 

“So, I stopped by his room and asked him about it,” Jirou was saying, staring down at her phone as she talked. A music playlist took up the screen. As she spoke, she thumbed down the list, scanning the songs included. 

“And?”

“He can’t,” she said. “Maybe you should have asked him. Aren’t you two friends?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sorry to ask you to do it. I’ve just been trying to figure out the rest of the food. I asked about it at the cafeteria, but they said we’d need a teacher’s permission.”

“And we can’t get that?” Jirou asked, finally pocketing her phone again. 

“Who am I going to ask? Mr. Aizawa?” Sero groused. “I-”

“Whacha talking about?”

Both Sero and Jirou jumped at the voice that materialized between them, and they slid in opposite directions on the couch. Leaning her elbows against the back of the couch, Mina continued, “Woah. Sorry, Was I interrupting something private?” She grinned wickedly at the two of them.

“We were hoping to get permission for a pizza party in the dorm for the end of term,” Jirou said smoothly. “Never thought there’d be this many hoops though.”

Mina’s eyes narrowed as she studied Jirou for a long few seconds. Her searching expression was enough to make Sero struggle not to fidget, and he wasn’t even on the receiving end of it. 

After an excruciatingly long few seconds, Mina straightened up and added, “Aww man. A pizza party sounds awesome.” Then with a wave, she wandered off, heading apparently up to her room.

The pair watched her go before both basically collapsed back onto the couch. 

“Like a radar!” Jirou hissed. “How does she do it!”

Mina scowled at her phone. Was anything going to go right?

Sorry, but Mr. Aizawa caught me with the streamers! He thinks I was going to use them for some sort of prank and took them. Forgive me!

Kirishima’s text wasn’t long, and didn’t contain anything that took more than a cursory approach to decipher, but she kept reading and rereading it, hoping that this time it would say something different than she’d read the last dozen times.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this were the only thing, she mused as she closed the app and leaned her head back to stare listlessly at the ceiling. But first Kaminari had managed to fry his speakers. Then when he’d asked Jirou about borrowing hers, but she’d said they were too heavy to be safely moved down to the common area, and too delicate to be trusted around their rowdy classmates.

She half suspected sabotage, especially given all the time Jirou and Sero were spending together lately. Could they have figured it out and be trying to mess with her?

No. She didn’t think they’d do that. What would be the point?

She had to admit to herself that maybe, she was just feeling a little bit lonely?

She liked Jirou -- she was absolutely cool and smart and had great taste in all sorts of things. But Mina also liked the comfortable camaraderie of their little squad, and lately, that had been fractured. Most nights, either Kaminari or Kirishima were out later than usual helping her. Sometimes she herself was. Bakugo, who thought the whole surprise party thing was stupid, was just avoiding them. And Sero…

He had to suspect something, and his instinct about the source seemed preternatural. Lately, it felt like every time she walked into a room, he walked out. If she walked up to talk, he’d get nervous and excuse himself. He seemed to have replaced hanging out with them with hanging out with Jirou.

To be honest, it kind of hurt. She was starting to regret the whole thing.

“Two more days,” she muttered to herself. “Just two more days.”

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Jirou said around a bite of her breakfast. 

“Thank god,” Sero said, pushing food around his plate. “This is way more stress than I wanted. I know she knows we’re up to something. I just don’t know if she knows what yet.”

Jirou glanced over his way. “Of course. You act like a toddler with his hand in the cookie jar whenever she walks in the room.”

“I’m not good at this sort of thing!” he protested, before giving up entirely and pushing his barely touched meal away. “And nothing is going right-”

Which was an understatement. After the cake failure and the food failure, Iida had come up to him, awkwardly and entirely unasked, to convey that the teachers had told them there were to be no defacing or making a mess of the dorms as part of their end-of-semester celebrations. And while their planned decorations weren’t for the end of the semester, he assumed Mr. Aizawa would not appreciate the difference in this particular circumstance.

Not to mention, he thought people would be psyched about the idea of a party. But once he started inviting some of their classmates who could keep their mouths shut last night, the reactions were … let’s go with “uninspiring.”

Oh. OK.

I’ll try to make it.

Huh. All right.

You’d have thought he was inviting them to a study session instead of a birthday party.

It was frustrating. 

“Oh, and about the music,” Jirou said.

At last, the one thing that would be going right.

“I forgot I agreed to let some upperclassmen borrow my speakers for a tournament,” she concluded. “Sorry about that. My phone has an OK speaker though, so we can use that.”

“Ah. Right.” 

Looking down at his own phone, Sero wondered what god he’d offended.

“Uuuugh, this is a disaster.” Mina whined. She “sat” in a chair upside down, with her back on the seat, her legs up  over the back and her head toward the floor.

“It’s not a disaster,” Kirishima said bracingly. 

She raised her head and looked over at him. “No food, no decorations, music off your computer speakers and almost no one except us three definitely coming,” she said, leveling a stare at him despite the odd angle. “How is that not a disaster?”

“Maybe everyone’s planning on coming and just didn’t say so?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yeah! You know people like to keep their weekends open,” Kaminari threw in. 

“Right, right. Well, maybe you can save the day, Kaminari.”

“Me?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “What?”

“Did you ask Satou about the cake?”

He brightened up. “Oh, yeah!” But then his face fell again. “He said he wouldn’t be able to though. Sorry.”

With a sigh, Mina let her head drop back toward the floor again. “See?” she said, gesturing vaguely in Kirishima’s direction. “Disaster.”

This time he didn’t object.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jirou waved for him to stay in his room. “I mean, with what? There are just a couple decorations, so that’s easy enough. And if Mina corners you, you’re going to spill the beans.”

Probably not incorrect. Whatever she thought about the party, he was honestly going to just be glad to have the whole thing behind him, he thought as he puttered around his room wasting time.

What if she hated it? She wouldn’t get mad -- she generally took things in the spirit they were intended. But he didn’t want to disappoint his friend. Or make her uncomfortable. Not that a party would. But maybe he misjudged? What if the surprise bit did?

He glanced at his phone. Five minutes to 2 p.m. Time apparently flew when you worried yourself slightly ill. Just about time to go down and prepare for the “surprise” part of the surprise party.

As he reached the fourth-floor landing, he heard footsteps and turned to see who it was.

Ah crap.

Mina looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Hadn’t Jirou said not to worry about keeping her in her room, that she’d set something up? Why was she here?

For her part, Mina’s accustomed bright smile took a couple seconds to make itself seen. He wondered if his shock was showing too clearly on his face, because it seemed like she looked uncomfortable to see him.

“Hey!” she chirped. “Heading somewhere?”

“Uhh,” he said articulately. “Yyyyeah.” Idiot!

“Where to? She asked, starting down the first couple steps to the third floor, then looking back and waiting for him to follow.

Well, this was it. There was literally no way he could get her to go back to her room. There was no real way to warn the folks downstairs she was coming down early -- assuming anyone was there except Jirou, of course. 

Time to just get this over with. He followed her down the stairs. 

“So hey, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a couple days,” she said as they headed down. 

“Yeah?”

“Have you been avoiding me lately?”

 You act like a toddler with his hand in the cookie jar whenever she walks in the room, the memory of Jirou’s words prodded him helpfully.

“Huh? No, not really. Heh heh,” he said, trying to brush it off, but he could just feel the awkwardness in his tone and posture and this was turning into a total mess. How did these stairs get so long?

Mina looked a little doubtful, but nodded. “OK. Then are you and Jirou like…” she trailed off.

It took him a couple seconds to put together what she was even asking. Once he did, his face heated up. “Wh… no!”

“Because you know if you are, we’re cheering for you.” That mischievous grin on her face told him they might also needle him. But it didn’t matter.

“That’s seriously not it. She’s cool and all, but … that’s not it.”

Her smile faded again, just a little. “Something I did then?” she asked as they rounded the corner and stepped onto the final staircase, to the ground floor.

“No! Seriously Mina, I’m not avoiding you or anything. It’s just been kind of a weird week.” He supposed the one good thing about how she kept peppering him with questions was that it hept her focused on their conversation instead of peeking ahead and maybe seeing all of the nothing they’d put together for her party. “Sorry if I gave you that impression though.��

“All right.”

“We good?”

She sighed. “Yeah, we-”

“SURPRISE!”

Sero thought Mina jumped at the sudden chorus of shouting voices. It was hard to know for sure, because he definitely jumped at the sound. He’d been expecting it as they reached the ground floor, of course, but that had been a bit louder than he was prepared for. Turning to look at the common room, he saw ...

He saw a party. There were streamers, and a “Happy birthday” banner and food and a cake. Jirou’s sound system was set up in the corner.

And as far as he could see, everyone from their class and a few more besides were here.

He gaped. This was … unexpected. Then he looked over, to see Mina looking just as flummoxed. 

As people got the party started, Kaminari hurried over and grinned at Mina. “So, what do you think?”

“Where did all of this come from?” she asked. She sounded as confused as him, actually. 

Wait a second.

Before he could voice his suspicions, Jirou wandered up. “You should see your face,” she said.

“I thought everything fell through,” Sero said.

“Well of course,” Jirou said with a wry smile. “We were all conspiring against you both.” Kaminari looked over at her and nodded, still looking totally pleased with himself. “It’s a good thing you never compared notes.”

“Wh.. how could we?”

“And that’s what we were counting on.” she chuckled, then gave him a little wave and wandered off.

At nearly the same time, Kaminari gave Mina a little shove toward where Kirishima stood near the food. “Come on, he’s been like this close to spilling the beans for four days or something, if you don’t let him finally tell you everything, he might literally explode.”

Still a bit bemused, Sero watched them go before wanding off to join … whatever this was.

It was about an hour later when Mina found him chatting with Asui and Uraraka about some new single that had recently come out. As Asui leaned over to show Uraraka her phone so she could pull up the video, Mina plopped down on the couch next to Sero.

“So,” she said, settling in.

“So.” he agreed.

“Has the last week been as frustrating for you as it’s been for me?”

“Yuuuup.”

By design, apparently. It had taken less than a day for Kaminari to spill the secret to Jirou, who informed him of Sero’s side of the equation. From there, the planning had spread until the only people not in on it were, funnily enough, the two who started it.

“I owe Kaminari and Kirishima an apology,” Sero said, shaking his head. “I was sure if I asked them they’d give it away. Instead, everyone kept it from us.”

“I thought I was noticing a few little things,” Mina said thoughtfully. “But you were acting so suspicious that I didn’t really pay the rest of the weirdness as much attention.”

“Yeah. I was pretty sure I was going to give it away too,” he laughed.

“I didn’t suspect this at all, honestly,” she said, looking around. “And I definitely didn’t expect they’d all play both of us.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment,” Sero said. “Thanks for trying to plan a party for me.”

“Thanks for planning one for me too!” she replied. Then her smile turned sly as she added, “But mine would have been better.”

“Yeah yeah.”

They sat there for a few seconds, surrounded by the music from Jirou’s speakers. Then Mina hopped to her feet and held a hand out to him. 

“Let’s go. Birthday dance.”

“Come on, I’m terrible at dancing,” he said, taking her hand and letting her help him up.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a birthday dance,” she said matter of factly.

And who could argue with that?

[kirishwima]

can you please do a headcannon with the rfa that’s dating an insecure mc? i’m sorry my english isn’t very good

Your english is fine lovely! I’m also not a native speaker, so im sorry if i make mistakes sometimes ^^”

YOOSUNG:

* Honestly…he’s just as insecure as MC. He tries to hide it, tries to act tough and will argue with Zen when he teases him, but his facade couldn’t be farther from the truth-he’s scared, constantly worrying over his looks, the way he speaks, his intelligence, everything is a struggle and it often feels like he’ll never be good enough, neither to himself nor to others.

* Yet MC accepts him as he is-they love him unconditionally, have been there for him even when he kept using them as a substitute for Rika-they helped him see his wrongs and make them right, helped him become a better man. So to know that MC doesn’t see themselves as the amazing, wonderful person they are, it hurts him to his very core.

* He’ll remind MC constantly of how much he loves them, will praise them over every little thing-because to him it’s not compliments, it’s facts. MC is amazing, and that’s that. 

* Sometimes he’ll catch MC making self-depracating jokes; “I don’t even know why you’re dating me” they’d laugh, and Yoosung-oh boy, Yoosung’s furious. 

* “Do you hear yourself? Why date you? Because you’re wonderful! You’re an amazing, beautiful person, you’ve helped me through the hardest times of my life, you’ve been there for me no matter what-I want to be there for you too! You have such a kind soul, you love so much and so strongly and I-I love you just as much. So please-” he rubbed furiously at his eyes, bidding the tears gathering to go away, “Please don’t undermine the love I have for you. Don’t undermine yourself.”

* He’d spend every day of his life reminding MC of their worth, and that’s that.

ZEN:

* He’s a confident person. No, that might actually be an understatement-he’s what some would call a narcissist, albeit a high-functioning one-while he objectively knows his appearance is envy-worthy, he also knows his faults, and isn’t afraid to admit them. He knows he’s not good with technology. He’s honest to a fault, and quick to anger, but he doesn’t deem those as faults-they’re just part of who he is, for better or for worse.

* MC envies this confidence, this intimate way in which Zen both knows and accepts himself as he is, only working to better himself as a challenge from him to him, not for the gaze of anyone else. How could MC ever be like that? Would a time come where they too could confidently stand by his side, not nit-picking every single flaw in their looks, their personality, their entire existence?

* Zen’s fans aren’t all that helping in the situation either-after going public with their relationship, MC can’t help but constantly look through news articles, looking at what fans and reporters have to say about them, taking every single negative comment and locking it up in their heart, letting it infest with them until it rots-refusing to shine a light on the positive comments, the one that talk about how happy Zen looks with MC, how sweet their own smile is or how gentle their eyes are.

* Zen isn’t a fool, and he’s not blind-of course he knows MC isn’t the most confident person, and that they constantly judge their worth based on the perception of others. He tries to help them as much as he can without making it too obvious, will hold them tight when reporters stop them during a date to conduct an interview, will kiss their neck and compliment them until his mouth runs dry.

* MC appreciates it, they really do-but they’re always scared, so scared Zen will eventually realise he’s better off without them. They know, rationally, that Zen cares deeply for them, that he loves them as they are-as impossible as it seems, but this unwarranted worry never goes away, eating its way through their gut and into their lungs, making them lose their breath at the thought.

* “Do you realise how beautiful you are?” Zen asks one night, the apartment dark and quiet minus for the hustle of the city outside. He’s trailing his fingers alonside MC’s side, stopping at every hollow of ribs, pushing his fingertips on bumps and scars. “I’m not just talking about the way you look, as much as I love that too. I’m talking about this” he says as he pokes a finger to their chest, relishing in the silent laugh MC lets out as his fingers tickle them “and everything that happens in there. I love your laugh, your humor is impeccable, I love your kindness, your patience, how much you love to help others-you’re beautiful. Please don’t forget that.”

* And well, it’s hard to forget-even if it takes a long time to believe in Zen’s words, MC will always keep them to heart, remember them every time they try to bring themself down-they’re beautiful. No matter what.

JAEHEE:

* You’d think she’s very confident at first glance, and well, that’s partly true-she’s confident, in the sense that she doesn’t really care. She’s okay with the way she looks, though she’ll get bouts of worries from time to time, probing and poking at her face and body in front of the mirror, but soon it’d pass, and she’s back to normal, content with the way she is.

* it’s hard to wrap her head around MC’s worries and insecurities most of the time. She can’t understand just why MC feels so bad with themselves, not when to her they were a saving grace-taking her from the hectic worriesome state she was seen and bringing her most well-hidden dreams to the surface, making them true.

* She’ll watch MC interact with customers, how they’ll hum whilst making coffee and she’ll smile to herself, soft and sweet and falling in love all over again. How someone like them could not be confident is something she could never understand.

* She tries to help motivate MC, will lean her head on MC’s shoulder and wrap her arms around her waist from the back as MC brews coffee, whispering bashful ‘i love you’s and praises to their skin. When talking with customers she’ll frequently slip in a word of affection towards MC, praising them for their hard work and dedication-even if MC isn’t there to hear it, she just wants the world to know how amazing they are!!

* Sometimes MC gets really down, insultin every little thing about themselves. Jaehee was never that good with words and expressing her emotions upfront-so instead she did what she knows best. She wrote a report. Yes, a report, along with a whole power point presentation, explaining each and every point of why she loves MC, with facts, proof and evidence. Whenever MC talks badly about themself, Jaehee simply pulls up the powerpoint, puts her glasses back on and asks MC to take a seat on the couch, pulling up her laptop and begining to talk about each point until MC is too shy to let her continue.

* No one disses the person Baehee loves, not even themselves.

JUMIN:

* Jumin is confident. That’s it, it’s a fact. He’s grown up learning how to poise himself, has been given constant praise to the point where he hated it, but he knows his pros and cons, and will never let anyone else’s opinion alter his own, especially not when it comes from people who aren’t even close to him.

* So honestly...unless MC straight up talks to Jumin about their insecurities, he’ll never get it. Of course he’ll notice when MC looks away when he compliments them, or how they seem a nervous wreck when out with him at social gatherings, but he figured it’s just them being bashful, not that it’s because they don’t believe his words or feel insecure around him.

* He only realises when they’re lounging together on the couch, a wine in hand and Elizabeth the 3d on MC’s lap. MC watched the way in which Jumin sat-his back straight, his profile picture-perfect, confidence in his every movement. They ran their hands through Elizabeth’s fur, looking down at her in contemplation.

* “How do you do it?” They asked and Jumin turned to face them with a soft frown of confusion. “You just...whatever you do, you do it so confidently. Like, you know what you want and how to get it and that’s it, and you-you ended up with me, who’s too nervous to even look people in the eye when talking. How do we-are you okay with this? With me?” 

* Their words were jambled, worry pooling in their stomach as Jumin’s eyes widened, his mouth ajar. “You-is this how you feel?” he asked. He tried to school his expression into something more neutral, put his wine glass back down to turn and hold MCs hands in his.

* “I love you. There’s no logic in love, and even if there was, there’s nothing about you I could not love. Your kindness, your smile, you’re smart yet modest, you’re just...to me you’re impeccable. I hate to think that you never realised all these yourself, MC, you’re wonderful. I need you to believe that you are.”

* He vowed to himself to never let MC forget it from then on. Every morning he’ll wake them with a kiss, listing at least one thing about MC he’s grateful for before starting their day. He’d do this day after day, until MC started to believe it themself.

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG/LUCIEL:

* Lmao he’s literally an insecure k i n g. Before meeting MC, before falling in love with them, he’d be unable to list a single thing he likes about himself. He’s too much of this, too little of that, every time he looked to the mirror it’d be a war zone, his face reminding him too much of things he’d rather just forget.

* Yet MC helped him so much. Little by little, they helped him learn to accept himself as he is, to allow his heart to open and gain a little bit of confidence. He’s learnt to at the very least feel neutral when looking in the mirror, starting to accept hsi existence as just that-another human being in the world.

* Yet he knows, he knows that as much confidence as MC is trying to help him build, the less they have themselves. He’s no idiot, he’s been there, of course he knows the tell-tale signs of it-the self depracaitng jokes, the way they look in the mirror when they walk past, how they roll their eyes at his compliments.

* “You know me, I’m your resident klutz” MC started once, after a glass slipped from their hands and broke at their feet. They started cleaning it up, telling Seven to stay away since he wasn’t wearing any shoes or slippers. “Just a big ol’ idiot here to fuck things up and make life all that much harder for everyone-” they continued, laughing yet their hands were trembling.

* “Of course I can’t even hold a freaking glass correctly, why would I anyway I’m such a-”

* “Stop.”

* Seven didn’t care for the glass shards at this point. He walked to kneel across MC, wrapping his hands around theirs. “Do you hear yourself? What you’re saying is stupid, and some deep hidden part of you knows it. You’re brilliant. Stop looking at me like that, you know it’s true. You are” He smiled small and soft, drawing circles on their hand with his thumb. “No regular person could’ve gone through what you did and come out of it even stronger. You’re amazing, you’re kind no matter what you-I love you. I want you to see yourself like I see you, even if it’s cliche as hell.”

* He leaned over the broken glass, kissing MC soft and gentle. “So stop with these jokes. Start appreciating yourself, please. For me.”

* MC didn’t know if they could. But they’d try. For Saeyoung, they’d try.

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons/scenarios for characters’ reactions!-