#I have a number of ideas but I'm always eager to see what people suggest

[koolades-world]

Congrats on 2k!

Could you maybe do prompt number seven with Belphie, but instead he's the one wearing MC's shirt rather than MC being the one wearing his? (I know people always assume MC's smaller than all of them, but just let me have this 😞🙏 /hj)

I mean, I don't really know what the prompt could indicate, so I thought I should clarify

thank you! yes of course i can!

since i got two asmo ones for this prompt too, i almost spun one to be asmo wearing mcs shirt, but then i saw this request! you read my mind haha

i'm glad this prompt is well liked because it's gotta be one of my favorites

not sure what my upcoming posting schedule will be either because i just downloaded wuthering waves and my man's (jiyan) banner is about to go away since i didn't start on launch. he goes away in three days. i must have him.

enjoy <3

prompt 7 w/ Belphie

Another day was finally over. It’d been fun, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t long. You had a day out with friends from breakfast, to a movie, then to someone else’s house where you spent the rest of your day hanging out. You hadn’t spent much time with them recently, and you felt as if was much needed catch up time. But, you couldn’t deny how tired you were now that the adrenaline had died down.

You were eager to get home and rest. But, the lounging clothing you’d laid out on your bed was missing. Well, half missing. The pants were exactly where’d you left them, but your shirt was nowhere to be seen. So the hunt for it began. Usually, you’d let it go but it was your last lounge shirt and considering you were currently waiting in the line to do your laundry, you didn’t have a choice.

You started in Mammon’s room. He wasn’t there, so you searched all the usual places he would hide things he snatched from you. While you were searching, he walked in on you rifling through his closet. Once you told him, he vehimently denied, but did suggest you text the group chat asking if anyone else had seen it. You thought it was a pretty good idea, but wanted to check a few more places first, in case it was in plain sight.

Next, you made your way to Levi’s room. It probably wasn’t in there, but if you wanted to ask him, you’d have to go in person. He was too busy playing his games to answer any text messages. After giving the secret knock and password, he opened the door for you. He was happy to see you and asked if you were up to play something with him tonight. However, once you informed him of your situation, he told you he hadn’t seen it, which you kind figured. Both of you knew he hadn’t left his room today. With that, you told him you would love to do something with him later, but you had to continue your search.

You decided to check one more place before you sent out the text. You knew Beel would be in his room because you’d arrived home at around the same time as you and he’d told you he’d be there after his shower. You made sure to knock, and after he opened the door, you asked if he’d seen your shirt. Unfortunately, he says he hadn’t and asked if he could help in any way. You thanked him for his kind offer, and just asked him to keep an eye out for it. With that information, you left and went back to your room.

Since it was your last resort, you sent a message to the group chat, simply asking if anyone had seen it. Everyone reponsed pretty quickly, save for Levi and Belphie. You’d already talked with Levi, and you knew he hadn’t seen it. Belphie, however, you hadn’t seen. He must’ve been asleep somewhere. Not in his own bed, at least. Since you didn’t have anything to wear, you decided to get something small to eat while you mulled over what to do. You could always borrow something from one of the brothers, but you were a little afraid you’d start a war if the other brothers found out you picked someone else. But, you weren’t about to wear any of your any day clothes to bed.

As you grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry and settled in a seat at the kitchen island to think about your next move, Belphie walked in. He had his cow pillow as usual and a blanket that had been a gift from his twin draped around his shoulders. “Mc. You’re back.” He sat next to you and set his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, Belphie. How was your day?” He looked very comfortable, and the way he dragged himself to your side basically answered the question.

“I had a great nap outside today. Beel went out for a hike and carried me on his back. We spent some time at the top of nice hill in some shade. It was great,” he sleepily recalled.

“Glad to hear you had a good day. My day wasn’t nearly as relaxed, but I still enjoyed it.” You unclipped the bag of chips and began munching.

“I was just about to ask how that went.” He looked intrigued at what you were eating, so you turned the bag around so he could see the label.

“Yeah, it was super fun. I won’t like though, I’m tired and I’m not even sure I can stay awake for dinner.” Belphie reached around you to grab a chip. When he did so though, you got a better glimpse at what he was wearing. He had on some slouchy, comfy looking pajama pants, and an awfully familiar shirt. Just the one you’d been searching for. “Belphie, is that my shirt?” You struggled to contain your giggles. You couldn’t believe he’d just had it all along.

“It’s very soft. And I missed you. So I just borrowed it,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” You gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head, much to his delight.

“So, if I borrow your things more often, I get more kisses?” He gazed up at you mischievously.

“As long as you promise to return them. I do need that back today though. Any other time I wouldn’t care, but that’s my last shirt.” With your statement, he shrugged the blanket off his shoulders and moved to remove the shirt. Slightly alarmed, you placed your hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Not right here!” He chuckled at your exclamation.

“Well, you didn’t specify.” He was such a little shit and he knew it. But, he also knew he could get away with it.

“If you’re so eager to take it off, let’s go to my room or something.” It was your turn to laugh.

“What are we waiting for them?” With the most energy you’d seen out of him in the past week, he grabbed your hand and effectively dragged you after him. You had a soft spot for him, and you both knew that. You loved this cheeky, mischievous demon with all your heart. He loved you back to. He always looked at you with a caring, soft gaze that was reserved for you and you alone. How lucky were the both of you.

[opalimagines]

Can I request number 9 and dialogue 13 and 38 with Ted Grant? He wants to do it so bad but you’re nervous about sitting on his face. He comforts you and tells you he’ll forgive you if someone goes wrong. Just let the man have this!

Character: Ted Grant/Wildcat

Requested by anonymous

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), face sitting

Reader: Neutral pronoun-wise but has a vagina

9. Face sitting

D13. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

D38. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You seriously want me to do that?"

Ted laid between your legs, both of you naked and flushed, as you'd just finished tearing one another's clothes off. You were expecting the usual oral when he looked down at you with his bright blue eyes and suggested changing things up. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't serious."

You chewed on your lips as you rested your head back against the pillow. The idea of sitting on Ted's face as he ate your pussy as ravenously as ever did sound hot, and it was a totally normal thing that people did, but it didn't stop you from having reservations. "What if I get too carried away and smother you to death, or crush your skull, or something like that?"

"Now that'd be a hell of a way to go." It sounded much better than the way he'd probably end up dying some day—killed by some maniacal supervillain.

"I'm not joking around, Ted."

Ted stroked your thigh. "Nothing's gonna go wrong. Even if it does, it was my idea. You can blame it all on me." He'd never push you to do something in bed that you didn't want to, but he knew you well enough to see that you did want it, you just needed reassurance that you wouldn't hurt him.

You ran your hand along his muscular chest as you thought about it. Yeah, you weren't the average human and possessed quite a bit more strength than Ted, but surely if things got too risky, he could get you off of him. He'd surived things much more dangerous than your superpowered thighs.

Without a word, you pushed him off of you and back against the mattress, stradling his hips. Ted couldn't help the smirk at you taking charge as you leaned in close. "If it gets to be too much, just tap my leg a few times."

"Got it," Ted said, knowing full well he was about as likely to tap out that night as he was in battle. Meaning there was no chance in hell.

You climbed up his body until your thighs were on either side of his head, leaving what he wanted almost close enough to taste. Ted grabbed your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He had to resist the urge to dive right in as you spoke.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?" He shot back immediately, looking up at you with those lust-filled eyes you'd come to know so well. "I'm sure."

You moved so you hovered right over his face, and Ted took a moment to admire you. That perfect pussy of yours, how soaked it was. He'd been the one to do that to you, and he'd be the one to taste you. His cock throbbed just thinking about it. He used his grip on you to pull you the rest of the way down and get to work. Right away, you let out a moan as his hot tongue started licking up your juices.

Ted had always lived up to his codename in bed, but there was something about his head between your thighs that really drove him wild. He'd bury his face in you and go at it like he was a starving man and you were a buffet. That wasn't to say there was no technique because he had plenty of that. He'd given you countless orgasms to demonstrate his skill.

And he was well on his way to giving you yet another one. "Fuck, Ted," you moaned, grabbing onto the headboard as he greedily devoured you.

He groaned at the noises you were making, your sweet taste. That and the filthy wet noises of your cunt only made him more eager. He could do this for hours if you wanted him to.

A hell of a way to go, indeed.

You cried out as he sucked at your clit, and you couldn't help grinding against him a little. Ted moved his hands to your ass, urging you on as he kneaded the flesh.

His growls vibrated against you as you practically rode his face, and the headboard began to splinter in your grip. You had to focus your strength somewhere that wouldn't hurt him, even though you'd have to buy yet another replacement.

You could do nothing but curse and moan, your orgasm drawing nearer. It was right there, and he wasn't going to stop until you reached it.

Finally, you cried even louder, and your thighs tensed hard as Ted continued to work your clit to draw it out as much as possible.

Once you couldn't take anymore, you moved off of him and laid down on the matress, panting and still making soft noises at the sensitivity between your barely working legs. Despite his mouth being messy with your juices, you grabbed Ted by the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss.

He broke it with a chuckle. "Well, would ya look at that. I'm still alive."

"Shut up," you said with a laugh, giving his arm a playful slap.

Ted put his arm around you, and you took a moment to recover before the night continued on...

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

I hope it’s alright to ask about my favourite minor theory

Do you think Makinos child is Shanks? I kinda believe it because of the hair colour being brownish RED in official colouring, the fact that Oda himself said the father is “that person” so probably someone we know, in Ace novel there’s a moment when Benn asks Shanks if he thinks Makino got prettier and he agrees (teasing?), and on one of the cover pages makino is seen with a ring on her finger and on the other Shanks was attending some wedding 👀.

Do you think there’s actually something going on or it’s just wishful thinking?

I kinda like the idea of Luffy giving the hat to that kid at the end to start a new cycle y know. Thoughts?

hmm. not sure what i've done to make people think i have authoritative knowledge of one piece! let me assure you otherwise by revealing i straight up did not know makino had a kid until i got this message. just overlooked those pages, i guess?

buuut i'm always happy to speculate! so let's do that.

a bit of wiki searching tells me the kid is a post-timeskip development, which makes the kid being shanks' a bit... logistically challenging, to me? makino doesn't seem to ever leave windmill village, and i can't see shanks leaving the grand line for long during that post-marineford upheaval time period. he's got whitebeard's old territories to claim/protect on top of his own, yknow? he seems very busy.

so… hard to see how a shanks/makino baby (a/o wedding) happens in that time period. i guess anything's possible? really, they would only need to meet up once to make it happen.

and at the same time… who else is there, lmao

like, i guess oda could be trolling with the "that person" comment and just mean "her husband"? but i think you're right, the phrase is suggestive that the father should be someone we'd know, and adult men in windmill are thin on the ground. it's like, woop slap? garp? a couple shopkeepers? some unnamed background citizens and mountain bandits??? maybe the party of party's bar is a person, and makino's running the place with her husband? why wouldn't we have seen him on screen though, that one seems like a stretch.

so i'd say the theory is… plausible? i'm not wild about it—the Absent Father Because He's Too Busy Being A Pirate trope pisses me off, i don't like the idea of shanks joining their number—but yknow, them's the breaks.

as to your "passing it on to the next generation" idea: that's really sweet! tbh i think i'd like that ending (luffy returning to windmill, meeting a kid at party's bar who is eager to be a pirate, and giving them the hat) regardless of who the kid's father is! one piece does a lot with "heir to your spirit, not your blood" as a concept, so the kid's dad not being relevant or revealed would play into that nicely, however frustrating it might be for theorists.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Honeymooners pt 1

Gonna turn this into a multi chapter thing since it’s getting kinda long. The prompt about reader and Loki going undercover as honeymooners at a fancy honeymoon destination that I said I’d write forever ago but didn’t get around to

(So if you’re going under cover for anything, you’d probably want fake names, but I don’t want to make up fake names and I like using Loki’s name so yea...)

A loud ringing from your nightstand roused you from your deep sleep. Your eyes opened instantly, years of training instantly putting you on alert as you recognize a mission briefing call. "I'm here." You answered.

 "Agent, good, head up to the debriefing room," Mariah Hill's voice came through the speaker, "we have your next assignment."

You nodded, the last traces of sleep leaving you as you remembered she couldn't see. "Should I grab my partner?"

"Not yet, he's getting a debriefing packet but there's classified information we need to go over with you separately."

You raised an eyebrow. Loki, god of mischief, currently tasked with aiding SHIELD for glorified community service and thus your partner on most missions, would be debriefed separately? If you were working together, wouldn't the logical thing be to brief you simultaneously so any ideas the other had or questions could be addressed together? You knew better than to ask questions though, Mariah would just end up repeating her orders. "Understood, I'll be there in ten."

"Hurry, your transport leaves in two hours, everything you need is packed, so this debriefing has to be fast."

You sighed as she hung up, failure to plan on SHIELD's part always warranted an emergency on your part. Hopefully the travel time would be long so you and Loki could fill each other in on anything that had been missed. Still, something about separate briefings disturbed you. No sense in worrying about it now though, time was ticking and you still needed to shower.

Ten minutes later, you were rushing into the briefing room where Mariah sat at a long high-tech table, a TV screen displaying a mountain lodge behind her. "Recognize it?" Mariah asked, looking up as you entered.

You stared at the screen blankly, searching your memory. The lodge seemed familiar in a dreamlike way, but nothing truly stood out.

"Not sure, your history and all, but some little girls grow up planning their dream weddings and honeymoon vacations."

You frowned glancing between her and the screen. "I'd never really thought about it, I guess. Marriage might come some day, but I've had other things to worry about. Maybe friends planned their's..." You trailed off, not sure what she was getting at.

Mariah smiled, "don't worry, it's not a test, just was wondering if you recognized it. That's the location of your mission. 'Lover's Lodge, Honeymoon Resort', honeymoon destination of only the wealthiest and luckiest clients. It's such a destination resort that any who attend have to prove they've been married in the last 48 hours. Officially they prefer 24, but occasionally travel gets interrupted and they felt like expanding the inclusion list. Newlyweds plan their weddings around when there's space available here, very exclusive."

"I'll bet." You crossed your arms, not wholly impressed. Sure it was an interesting place to visit, presumably anyone lucky enough to be an actual guest would enjoy it, but that type of feather in your cap didn't particularly interest you, not when you'd been told of an impending mission and you were very much single. Sure you pined after a guy, but he was millennia out of your league and definitely didn't return the feelings. Plus with your busy work schedule, dating really had taken a back seat to your plans.

"So what's the mission?" You finally prompted.

Mariah blinked, "there's underground seismic activity. Gamma levels are off the charts. We have reason to believe a magical portal of sorts is open in an underground area. The lodge itself exists in a weird jurisdiction and since the portal is believed to be magic in nature, we need your partner to investigate it."

"Loki."

She nodded, "he's uniquely equipped to handle magical enemies and we don't particularly trust him to do anything solo. The god of lies title and history inspires a great deal of understandable distrust."

You shrugged, "fair enough. I trust him though."

"Which makes you uniquely suited to operate as his partner, as well as the other portion of this undercover operation."

You were starting to get a headache, she seemed to be hinting at something without daring to say the actual nature of what she meant. "So we're undercover as work staff?"

Mariah smiled thinly, "I was hoping you might've guessed... no, the owner needs to be investigated to see if he has any part to play in the operation of this portal and the background checks and period of time it would take to sneak you into the workforce would be far too long."

"So?" You prompted, mind not quite working.

"I need you to go undercover as guests. Far more freedom to move around this way."

You swallowed hard, mind reeling. "But guests have to be newlyweds..."

Mariah held up a sheet of paper. Warily, you took it from her, examining it carefully. There in crisp new letters, signed by the state of New York, lay your full name married to Loki Laufeyson. You looked up at her stunned, "what the hell is this?"

"Less than 48 hour old marriage license between you and Loki, thought that was clear. We have wedding pictures as well as several witnesses that can attest the validity of your wedding."

"You married me to Loki without either of us knowing?" No wonder they didn't want Loki in attendance, he was sure to be pissed.

"It's forged, but will fool the admissions there, we snuck a different couple in several weeks ago to make sure. You're going undercover as a newlywed couple, enjoying all the amenities and making sure to close that portal and if necessary, remove the owner from his position, assuming he is involved. Think of it as a working vacation."

"With an ornery god, you do know Loki isn't going to be pleased."

"It's a six hour car trip, you'll have plenty of time to warn him. And it's by limo, refrigerator and bar fully stock, all expenses paid."

"What if I refuse?"

"You'll be out of a job." Mariah glared at you.

Your eyes flashed, "I'm one of your most loyal and successful agents, one refusal and I'm out on the streets?"

Mariah sighed, "no, you'll be heavily reprimanded and demoted, pay cut and put on leave, but please, you're the only one qualified to do this, we need you."

"You need Loki."

"He won't work with anyone else, there's no punishment we can give him, all of it has to be willing. Even threat of returning to prison on Asgard hardly bothers him. Please, he seems to like you."

You grit your teeth, that was the bitter crux of it. That Loki considered you an acquaintance of sorts but would never share your feelings. To have to openly act as though you were madly in love with him, only to return to hiding your feelings would kill you. Worse, Loki would either pretend to go along with it and not see how badly it tore you apart each moment, or he would refuse because ultimately he couldn't even tolerate you as a friend. Nothing of this mission wouldn't end extremely painfully for you. "Fine, but I'm getting another more expensive vacation after this."

"It's practically a vacation already, other than the portal."

"And an obstinate Loki. That's the only way I'm agreeing." You crossed your arms.

"We'll take it up with Fury, no absolute promises, but I'm sure we can manage something."

"Good."

By the time your conversation ended, you were becoming pressed for time. You practically flew out of the room, rushing down the many stairs and out to the waiting limo that Loki sat in, already looking annoyed. His arms were crossed as he glared sullenly out the tinted windows, fingers tapping in time to some unheard beat. "Sorry," you panted, scrambling in beside him. A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth upon seeing you, "got held up with Mariah."

Loki nodded, "for a moment, I was worried they might send a replacement for you."

"Can't get rid of me that easily." You winked, settling in as the car lurched forward.

Loki nodded curtly, that smile once more returning. "I take it there's a reason we were informed separately."

"Oh yea, and you're just going to love it." Sarcasm dripped heavily from your tone and Loki raised his eyebrow curiously. Over the next hour you and Loki shared the various information regarding the specifics of the mission finally coming to the part you dreaded most.

"But all this could just as easily have been told together, why the separation?" Loki mused.

"It's our cover," you sighed heavily, lifting up the marriage certificate. Loki frowned, "I suppose I didn't think we'd spend long there." You shook your head, "part vacation since it's a resort and SHIELD is cheap, and we need to investigate the owner as guests. It's easier than getting us jobs apparently."

Loki squinted at the paper, "we're married?" He looked up at you and blinked.

You popped the cork off the bottle you'd been struggling to open, "only technically," you said taking a long swill. "It's a forgery but best in the business. Sorry to do that to you, only way they could think of apparently."

Loki shrugged, "I could think of worse covers."

You looked at him, mid drink. Slowly you removed the bottle, "really?"

"They could have placed me with a different agent, which would be insufferable."

You laughed, "yea, I guess." Still your heart ached, not sure how to vocalize your feelings.

Loki could see the sadness in your eyes but didn't seem to realize what caused it. "What if we made it into a competition?"

"A competition?" You repeated.

"Whoever appears the better and more in love spouse, the winner."

You winced internally but you knew you loved a good challenge. Almost unwittingly, you heard yourself answer, "you're on, I'm going to kick your ass at this."

"My love, that you could think to hurt me?" Loki placed his hand over his heart in shock.

You scowled, "you didn't say we started yet!"

"Fair enough agent."

"What's the loser have to do?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." Loki smirked.

Scoffing, you retorted, "yea right, I'm going to win."

The car ride passed uneventfully, you and Loki having plenty of the finer details of the mission to discuss and plan. "So it's in a sort of mountainous area, built on a number of natural hot springs that make for quite the scenic hot tubs."

Loki pursed his lips, "perhaps we might skip the hot tubs?"

You stared at him blankly, "and sauna? I gather?"

Loki nodded, "I don't care for heat much." He trailed off, looking away. You didn't press him, but he had alluded to not tolerating heat in the past, perhaps this was related.

"It's built over an inactive volcano, I believe, dig deep enough and you'll find lava but no worries of eruption in my life time. At least that's what SHIELD's experts seem to think."

"Is that related to the portal?"

"More like a fun fact." You shrugged, "and a tram that can take guests down to the beach, only an hour's ride. Sunbathing could be fun."

Chuckling, Loki reached for his drink, "I'm sure the number of newlyweds enjoying the sunset will be amusing."

"Probably. The tram doesn't stop, every half hour all night. Midnight swims on a clothing optional beach." You swallowed hard, trying not to picture Loki partaking in that.

"They really are encouraging intimacy everywhere, aren't they?" Loki blinked, studying you.

The look he gave you was so intense, you found yourself turning away, if only to hide your blush. "Guess so. At least no one will check on whether or not guests do, right?" You forced a weak laugh.

Loki nodded thoughtfully, "that would be awfully invasive of them."

Sleeping with Loki, or rather sleeping with Loki had only briefly crossed your mind. It would be hard to get around not sharing a bed but two mature adults could handle that surely, but if anyone noticed? That would be the final nail in your coffin to fake sex with Loki just to maintain your cover, or real but wasn't mutually desired.

"Agent?" Loki prompted, pulling your mind back to the present.

"Meeting the owner might be challenging if he's behind the portal." You forced yourself to change the subject. "Though I believe he greets each couple personally during their stay, guess we'll have to meet as many couples as possible to increase our chances of running into him."

Loki sighed, resting his chin on his fist, "wonderful, socializing with mortals."

-

“Oh! Loki!” You paused, “I mean, darling look! We’re here I think!”

Loki straightened up, roused from his bored stupor and followed your pointing finger out the window. For the past half hour, the limo had been winding its way slowly upwards through a forested mountainside and it had at long last shown signs of nearing a massive resort. The picture Mariah had shown you really didn’t do the place justice for its size and splendor, anyone fortunate enough to visit would definitely have to pay a small fortune.

Loki chuckled at your pet name for him, “So we have, congratulations on our first day of marriage.”

You reached for your phone and opened it, noticing a barrage of pictures featuring you and Loki photoshopped into a number of wedding poses. It had been a small, private affair apparently, contrasting notably with the amount that would go towards the honeymoon but it was evidently about the two of you and no one else.

Loki leaned against you, staring down at the pictures. You could feel your cheeks heating in a blush at the close proximity, you had been this close before and managed to hide your feelings, why was it suddenly different? You silently admonished yourself.

“That’s a lovely dress,” Loki murmured, tilting his head to the side. His long hair brushed against your cheek and you fought back a shiver. “Somehow, I think the dress would look better on the actual you, not this model they chose.”

You furrowed your brows, surprised by the sincerity of the compliment. Opening your mouth, you looked up to ask him if he was acting or meant it but Loki’s attention was already back to the sprawling grounds of the resort. Your mouth fell shut and you stayed quiet.

The limo finally rolled to a stop, the door opening as the two of you scrambled out. Loki left first, turning around and offering you his hand to help you, placing a gentle kiss on it before allowing you to straighten up completely out of the car.

You closed your eyes, praying silently for patience, strength to make it through this mission, then slowly opened them and beamed at Loki. The flirtatious giggle came easy to you as you leaned forward and pecked his cheek. Loki stiffened for a moment, before sinking into your touch as though it were the most natural thing ever.

“Do you have the marriage license, love?”

“Right here, sweetie.” You giggled again, waving it for him.

Loki pursed his lips, eyes darkening, clearly not amused by the pet name. If you were going to suffer, dying for this to be real, you might as well punish Loki with cute names. A hotelier approached as the two of you stood there, no time to turn back now.

[scarlettriot]

For the best friends to lovers prompts (whatever you're comfortable with):

"I'll kiss you right now to prove that I don't like you" w/ Bakugo but it's spurred on by (drunk? aged up obviously) truth or dare? (I personally see Denki or Mina being the agent of chaos)

And/or

"Everyone thinks you're a couple because you act like you are" w/ Kirishima

Also, love your work. Slowly making my way through it all 😊

Hehe, I'm just gonna do both!

Pairing Number One: Bakugo X F!Reader

Full Prompt: ''I'll kiss you right now to prove I don't feel anything for you'' but the kiss brings forward unresolved feelings, and as you pull back, eyes still closed, there's this urge to dive in for a second kiss.

Warnings: Drinking and swearing because it's Bakugo and do you really expect anything less.

A/N: This is unedited so sorry if you find grammar or spelling issues. There's some KamiShinJiro content too. ALSO, if you'd like to send me prompts, click here for the original post!

Word Count: 1,349

Because it was Mina Ashido's idea, you should have expected the sly, pink-haired woman, to have ulterior motives but because of the same alcohol that warmed your cheeks, you didn't think much of it when she suggested continuing Eijiro's 25th birthday back at her place.

The old gang from high school crammed into a taxi since none of you should have been behind the wheel of a vehicle. You found yourself between Denki and Katsuki, seated half in the lap of the latter. "Sorry." You murmured when you felt him shift below you.

"'S fine," His low voice grumbled, "Just, fuckin' hell, don't bounce."

You couldn't really help it though. It wasn't you bouncing. It was the car. And, even though Katsuki was grunting with disapproval, muttering something about how you guys should have just taken two cabs, he still wound his arm around your middle so you didn't wobble when the car went around turns.

Denki smirked beside you and he wasn't exactly subtle about the way he elbowed Mina to point out Katsuki's arm around you causing you to just roll your eyes and look out the window with Katsuki. Anything to look innocent and pray Denki forgot about you drunkenly confessing feelings for the explosive blonde several years prior.

Mina tumbled into her apartment first with Eijiro close behind, his Birthday Boy sash still proudly on display despite his shirt losing a few buttons throughout the night.

"Hey, hey, you know what would be so much fun!" Mina giggled and clung to his arms while he egged her on, "We should all play truth or dare like we used to in the dorms! Hehe, 'member when Hanta ran through the halls naked!"

"Excuse you, I swung through the halls naked. It was faster that way."

She rounded up everyone until you all were seated in her living room while she explained the adult rules of the game, "So, it's like normal truth or dare except if you get the truth or dare and you don't wanna do it, you can drink instead! But, the person who gave you the truth or the dare controls when you stop drinking."

"This sounds dangerous." You murmured to Katsuki who was sitting on the arm of the chair you'd curled up in.

"This sounds fuckin' stupid."

However, the rest of the group held very different opinions, eager to begin.

Mina made sure everyone had a beverage in hand before sitting on the floor and declaring she'd go first since it was her house after all. "Denki!" He picked dare, not a big surprise. Denki picked dare as often as Bakugo went for truths. "I dare you to show us the last five pictures in your camera roll."

Both Kyoka and Hitoshi dove for his phone, "He's gonna drink!"

Denki held up his beer, "I'm a smart enough man to know when not to piss off the people I share a bed with." Mina made him drink for a five-count before he picked his victim, "Kacchan," You were close enough to hear the low growl in the back of Katsuki's throat as he turned on your friend, "What's it gonna be, man?"

"Truth."

"Predictable as always, I like that about you, speaking of liking... do you, ya know, like anyone? Particularly a certain cutie sitting in the chair right beside you?"

You damn near choked on your drink while Katsuki sputtered, "Like her? I tolerate all you, idiots."

"'S not what I meant. You know what I mean!"

"Ya should have worded it better, bro!" Hanta shoved Denki and told him to move on.

Eijiro had to go and find one of Mina's dresses, put it on, take a selfie in it, and then post it to his Red Riot Offical insta page. It had thousands of likes in a minute alone. Mina had to go do as many cartwheels as she could down her hallway, she made it to three before falling into the wall. Before it was turned on Katsuki again.

Mina giggled and clarified Denki's question, "Have you ever had a crush on this cutie pie?" She thanked you for grabbing ice even though your face burned at her question and Katsuki started drinking.

"Stop pickin' on 'im!" Eijiro chuckled, still lounging in Mina's dress. He finished his beer before she finished counting, leaving the room to get another.

The game went on leaving Hanta admitting to liking pickles and peanut butter together making half the room gag. Kyoka was dared to sing from Mina's balcony to the city below... that ended up trending on twitter. Hitoshi was also dared to sing back up before it was over.

And that just left you, "I dare ya to kiss Kats." Denki laughed when Eijiro tossed a pillow at him. "What? I didn't dare it of Katsuki!"

"I can't do that! I'm pretty sure that's harassment!"

"What's harassment?" You turned to Katsuki who'd returned, beer in hand, "What?"

"I dared her to kiss you!"

"What!"

Ruby eyes flicked from you to the grinning blonde. "Fuckin' fine! I'll kiss her right now to show you damn extra's I'm not into her!"

Katsuki pulled you close, his arm behind your back but stops just before his lips connect. "'S your dare. Do ya wanna?"

"I think you're the one with something to prove, not me, Kat."

He closes this space, lips locked on yours, warm and steady but completely still but you can feel the heat as he slowly exhales. His jaw relaxing making his lips soften against yours despite feeling his fingers at your back pulling you closer still.

When the wolf whistles began, you pulled away, opening your eyes to find Katsuki's fluttering open. His pink tongue darting out to his lower lip, savoring where your mouth had been, and, for just a moment, you thought he might lean back into you but he just scoffed, "See. Friends."

You sat by Hanta for the rest of the game, completely unfocused, trying not to stare at Katsuki now resting beside Eijiro until finally you couldn't take it anymore. The third time he'd caught you, you stood, "I think I'm gonna call it a night."

You kissed the birthday boy atop his red hair before pulling on your jacket and bidding the group goodnight.

It was a short walk from Mina's place to yours and yet you didn't make it to the end of the block before your name was being called out. Katsuki jogged after you, still tugging on his coat as he stopped just short of you, "What's up?"

"I, well, I had a question."

"'Mkay, spit it out then."

"Trying! 'S not fuckin' easy."

"If this is about that dare just forget it-"

"I can't though!" He cut you off, "I can't forget it. And... and 'm not fully convinced either."

You shuffled your feet, "Not convinced of what, Kat?"

"That I'm not into you like that." He muttered and under the street lights you could see the faintest dusting of pink wash over his cheeks when he asked, "Could I kiss you again, just to see?"

You nodded your permission and his index finger hooked itself under your chin drawing you up to him. He moved this time, so slowly and carefully that it stole your breath. So completely unlike him but, damn, it was addictive.

When you tilted your head, welcoming his tongue in your mouth, both his arms wound around you. A quiet hmm rumbled in his chest when he pulled back, a small nip at your lower lip while on his way.

"So, what's the verdict, Kats?"

His nose bumped against yours, "Ya know, I really hate admitting when I'm wrong."

"Mhm, but sometimes..."

"On very rare occasions I am... this was one of them."

Your third kiss was short-lived since the whooping and hollering took you both by surprise. But, a quick survey around was all it took to find your friends all gathered on Mina's balcony jumping up and down with cheer while Katsuki flipped them off, his lips crashing back against yours.

A/N: Going to do the Kirishima one in another post! I'll be sure to tag you! Thank you so very much for this!

[judeswhore]

Heyyyyyyy I adore your writing! Had an idea about Masons daughter being really upset because she didn’t make some kind of sports team- can be any kind - and he is like comforting her and stuff and maybe she’s a like older??? ❤️

no more baby wren first teen wren fic :(( but ik mase wld be the most supportive dad in these situations

number 1 fan - mason mount

Mason was sitting at the kitchen counter, finger swiping across his phone screen while he read through recipes for what he could make for dinner for you and Wren that night. It was rare he was home for meal times so when he was he was always eager to be the one to cook for you all, determined that he wouldn’t let you do all the work. He knew you’d be home from picking Wren up from netball practice soon and planned on getting you to just relax while he did everything.

He heard your car pulling into the driveway while he was pulling ingredients from the cupboards, followed by the opening of the front door. Mason turned to the kitchen doorway, ready to say hello to his fifteen year old daughter but she stormed straight passed, shoes being kicked to the floor by the stairs. Mason caught sight of her tear stained cheeks before she’d disappeared and sent a startled look in your direction when you followed in a few seconds later.

“What happened?” You shrugged your shoulders and set your car keys down on the counter, letting Mason pull you into a hug, lips pressing a soft hello kiss to your forehead.

“I have no idea, she won’t tell me. She’d already been crying when I picked her up but when I asked she said it was nothing. She wouldn’t talk to me the whole way home.” Mason heard the hurt in your voice, the slight betrayal that something had happened with Wren and she didn’t want to talk to you about it. He brushed his fingers through your hair, tilting your head up to his.

“I’ll go talk to her, okay? I’m sure everything’s fine though.” You nodded your head, kissing him softly as a way of thanking him before your eyes travelled to the ingredients strewn all over the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner. I’ll talk to Wren and then I’ll get started, it’ll be done about five? Why don’t you go relax in the living room?” Mason suggested, running his hands down your bare arms, fingers brushing over yours.

“I can make dinner.”

“No. I’m doing it. Go sit down, watch TV, go have a bath, whatever, just let me take care of everything tonight.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, just kisses your forehead again and then sent you out of the kitchen before trying to figure out how to deal with the stroppy teenager upstairs.

Wren was already changed out of her netball kit and was busy crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the room when Mason pushed her bedroom door open.

"What did that shirt ever do to you?" Mason joked as he stepped into the room and set himself on the end of her bed. Wren ignored him, sitting down at the vanity, arms folded over her chest, clear frown on her face through the mirror. "Wren?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Mason shuffled a little, drawing Wren's gaze up to his through the reflection and the red ring around her eyes made his chest tighten a little.

"How was school?" He asked, focused entirely on her to see if she gave any sort of indication as to what had upset her. Wren had grown up to be almost exactly like you, stubborn to the point where she refused to talk about her feelings or let people know she needed any sort of help.

"Fine."

"You know any other words than that?" His daughter sent him a small glare but Mason simply narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't look at me like that. How was netball? And if you say "fine" I'll take your phone away." Wren said nothing in response, just turned her gaze down to where she was picking at the corner of the white wooden table.

When she sat in silence for another few moments Mason huffed, leaning back on his hands, feigning nonchalance as a way of getting her to talk.

"I can sit here all night, y'know. I'll even sleep on your floor if I have to. So you might want to tell me what's wrong. Are you fighting with your friends?" Mason hesitated slightly, body tensing before asking slowly. "Is it a boy?" Wren's eyes darted up to his and she shook her head with a frown.

"No, dad, it's not a boy."

"Then what? I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong." Wren let out a sigh, cheeks turning pink.

"It's embarrassing, you'll think it's stupid." Mason sat up at this, frown digging between his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Wren, nothing that upsets you is stupid." When she didn't answer, Mason patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Come here." She was slow to do as he said, frowning as she lowered herself beside him. “Go on then, out with it, I promise I won’t think it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t get picked for the girls netball team.” Wren mumbled, her gaze glued to her hands and Mason felt his heart drop a little. He knew how hard she’d worked to join the team, she was training almost as much as he was and he knew how important netball was to her. He also knew what it was like to not get called up for something you really wanted to.

“Wren-“

“See it’s stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. Look at me,” He lightly nudged her arm. “You worked so hard for this and you’re incredible at netball, I’ve never seen anyone play as good as you and I’m so proud of you for finding something you really like and working at it. But, as much as it hurts, these things happen. People don’t see your potential or disregard it but you just have to keep working and bounce back even stronger until they know what a mistake they made. Wren, you might not have made the team right now but you have plenty of time to show them just how good you are.” Mason brushed a strand of hair back from her face and watched her blink a few times.

“But what if I’m not good? You have to say I’m good because you’re my dad and you know mum would kill you if you ever said anything else.” Mason couldn’t help but snort that this but then he shook his head.

“Your mum’s terrifying when she’s angry but that’s not why I’m telling you you’re good. I’ve been watching you practice for years now, and from the sports side of me you’re amazing. You put your all in to everything, you learn from your mistakes, if you can’t do something you stick with it until you finally get it right. I don’t care if you didn’t make the team this time because I know you’ll do it eventually and it’ll be worth all the upset you’re going through now. I’m so proud of you for how well you play, don’t let some stupid coach trick you into thinking you aren’t good enough.” Wren felt her lips tilt into a little smile because if anyone was good at talking her up and making her feel better it was Mason.

She leant to the side, arms sliding around his waist and hugged him tightly, Mason’s lips tilting into a smile as he hugged her back. He tucked his head into her hair, lips pressing a soft kiss there and squeezed lightly.

“Why didn’t you tell your mum? You know she’d have said exactly the same thing.” He felt Wren shrug, face tucked into his side to avoid looking at him.

“I was embarrassed that I didn’t make the team after you’d both told me you thought I would and then I was upset about it and then I was embarrassed that I was upset and I just didn’t want to disappoint you both.” Mason sighed again at Wren’s words, feeling upset himself that she’d ever think she’d be able to disappoint either of you.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about not making the team, I’ve missed opportunities like that so many times but you just have to take a step back and think about what else you can do. And you know we’d never be disappointed in you. We’re so proud of you for everything you do, Wren, don’t ever feel like you’re letting us down.” He ran a hand through her hair again and felt her relax against him. “We’re both so proud of you in everything and we love you, okay?”

Wren gave him a squeezing hug and Mason knew his words had made her feel somewhat better but he pouted playfully when she didn’t tell him she loved him too.

“Hey, say it.” Wren pulled back with a frown.

“Say what?”

“That you love me too.”

“No, you can leave now.”

“I just gave you that heart warming speech and you’re kicking me out without even saying you love me. You’re cruel.” Mason pushed himself up from the bed, feigning hurt but Wren just rolled her eyes.

“You’re always so dramatic.”

“My daughter doesn’t love me, I’m not being dramatic.”

“Yes you are, you know I love you, you just like being annoying.” Mason grinned triumphantly and ruffled his hand over her head, effectively messing up her hair as she batted his hand away.

“Was that really so hard?” Wren flopped down on her bed, head buried in her pillow.

“Yes it was.” Her words were muffled but Mason heard the smile in her voice and he lightly patted the back of her leg.

“I’m making dinner, it’ll be ready at about five. But I think you should go see your mum, she seemed a bit upset that you didn’t want to talk to her.” With one last squeeze of her leg, Mason made to leave the room but Wren sat up, her voice stopping him in the doorway.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I do love you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

[h0tch-r0cket]

Infatuation (18+) {a.h.} : chapter 5

summary: you needed a job. aaron hotchner needed a babysitter. the rest was inevitable.

word count: 5.5K

warnings: explicit language, drinking alcohol, smoking, building tension : )

table of contents

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

"Y/N?" Jack called out from the kitchen of the Hotchner home. You had picked him up from school, like always, and he was working on his homework as soon as possible.

"What's going on, Jack?" you asked as you placed your finger in between the pages of your copy of The Centaur which you brought with you to keep you occupied.

"I need help with my math," he said softly.

You put your bookmark in the novel and headed into where the little Hotchner was awaiting your help. You sat down across from him and glanced down at the papers that were sprawled out in front of him. "What do you need help with?"

"Well, Ms. Kingston showed us today how to add and subtract with three digit numbers like 100 and all that stuff. I get confused when you have to borrow from one of the other numbers when you subtract," he said as he tapped the pencil on the table, a habit you noticed Aaron did as well when he was working on his own work.

"Alright, let me take a look here," you said as you grabbed the paper from him.

After a few minutes of explaining the way you go about subtracting the numbers to Jack, he got it pretty quickly. "Thanks, Y/N!"

You ruffled his hair as you stood up from the table. "You got it. If you need me, I'm just going to be in the living room, okay?"

"Okay," he said as he moved on to the next parts of his worksheet.

You settled back onto the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest as you read the novel. You were just reaching one of your favorite parts, your attention glued to the pages in front of you. It was the part where George, the father of the story, had spent his very last dollar to bring home a sandwich for his wife even though he and his son were stranded for the night because their car broke down. There was something about the sentiment, the idea that he would give up his very last dollar, that always warmed your heart.

Just as you finished up the chapter you were on, the small pitter patter of feet coming into the living room interrupted you continuing on with your reading. You looked up from the book to see Jack coming towards you, taking hard steps as he walked.

He plopped down on the couch next to you and let out a low sigh. "What's the matter, kiddo?" you asked as you placed the book neatly on your lap.

"I want dad to come home already," he said quietly as he swung his legs against the side of the couch.

"I know you do, Jack. But hey, he should be here soon. Want to watch a movie in the meantime?" You weren't sure what else to do for him. It was the first time that Jack had ever expressed that sentiment to you.

He nodded his head lightly, not saying anything to actually answer your question verbally. "Alright. As long as you finished your homework," you told him. He simply nodded yet again, his face more somber than normal.

You tried to figure out why he had the sudden mood change from when you picked him up from the bus. You thought maybe he was just tired or perhaps he wasn't feeling good. You knew that most kids always wanted their parents around when they were sick.

As the different possibilities ran through your head as you looked for a movie that the two of you had yet to watch, Jack's small voice piped up from next to you. "Y/N?"

You turned your head to look at him to already be met with his gaze. "Yeah Jack?"

"Can I sit with you?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head and straightened yourself up more on the couch so he could sit on your lap. As he quickly scooted into your lap, your copy of The Centaur fell underneath the couch.

"Sorry Y/N. I'll pick it up," Jack said as he went to reach down and grab it. You pulled him back up towards you and let his back rest against your frontside.

"It's alright. I'll get it later. Pick out a movie to watch," you told him. You passed him the TV remote and let him scroll through the different family movies, hoping that he would find something to occupy his thoughts until Aaron got home from his lectures.

------

As much as he tried, Aaron Hotchner could not focus on the lecture that he was giving in his class. As he sat at his office desk at the university, he flipped through his notes which to anyone else other than him would not have made any sense at all with the way that the thoughts were not cohesive and the exhaustive amounts of abbreviations that littered the pages.

He planned the day's lecture to be about Orpheus and Eurydice, lovers tragically torn apart, but he couldn't gather his thoughts cohesively to provide his students with what he deemed to be the proper lesson.

His thoughts were foggy. Jarbled. He thought he would have shaken the thought of the way your hands touched the day prior. But it was all he found himself thinking about. He wasn't quite sure why. It was a simple accident.

A simple accident that made him want to rethink the way he had been so closed off with you. The way he was always curt. He craved more, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't pursue anything with you.

He rubbed his temples, sighing in defeat. At that point, the lecture was going to be what it was going to be.

Aaron gathered all of his things in his satchel and headed down to the auditorium before his students filed in. He shed himself of his suit jacket, leaving him in a baby blue dress shirt and tan slacks. He organized his notes yet again and placed them in order on the podium that was in the center of the room.

His students filed in soon after, a chorus of Good afternoon, Professor Hotchner, How are you Professor Hotchner? coming from them.

Aaron gave everyone a few minutes to settle in before glancing at his watch for the time. He clapped his hands together once loudly to get the attention of the class. The side conversations slowly died down, only a few soft murmurs being heard through the crowd.

"Alright folks. Let's settle in. I know today is Friday and you all are eager to get out of here so I'll try to make this as quick and easy as possible," he said, projecting his voice so that everyone could hear him. "I'll run through attendance quickly and then we'll get started."

After taking attendance and marking the absentee students, Aaron grabbed the textbook for the class from out of his satchel. "If you all could open to page 265 that would be absolutely fantastic." Synchronous opening of textbooks and flipping of pages filled the auditorium as the students quickly followed Aaron's instructions.

He began to walk in front of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he glanced out into the sea of students. "Now, does anyone have any ideas as to what the story of Orpheus and Eurydice is about?" He looked into the crowd, being met with blank stares, eyes glazing over, and even a few students nodding their heads back as they fought the calling of sleep during class.

Not one student raised their hand. He caught the students glancing at one another, hoping that someone, anyone, would have the answer. But there was no such luck.

Part of him wondered if you knew the story. You probably would know the tale like the back of your hand, being that you seemed to be meticulous with whatever it was that you set your mind to. He was curious to see just how much you knew about mythology.

He decided that the next time he saw you, he would try to find out just that.

Focus, he thought to himself.

Clearing his head of you as much as possible, he rolled his sleeves up and walked to the whiteboard, uncapping the black Expo marker that laid next to it. "Orpheus," he said as the marker squeaked on the board as he wrote the name down, "is the son of Apollo and Calliope. Well, that is according to some accounts. Some people say that Orpheus had a different father," he clarified. Aaron turned his attention back to his students, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Can anyone at least remind me as to who those two figures are in mythology? Apollo and Calliope?"

A hand rose in the middle of the auditorium slowly. "Yes?" he said, letting the student know that they could answer the question.

"Well, Apollo is considered to be the god of poetry and music. Calliope on the other hand, was one of the nine muses. She was the muse of history," the girl answered.

Aaron shook his head, placing his hands on his hips and he continued to pace back and forth in the front of the room. "Close. Calliope is actually the muse of poetry. Clio was the muse of history," he explained. "But I'm sure you knew that, right Ms. Sinclair?" he said with a small smirk on his face.

The girl nodded and scribbled down some more notes in her notebook, frantic to capture each and every word that Aaron uttered throughout the rest of the lecture.

Aaron took a brief pause and scanned through the crowd yet again. When he noticed one of his students clearly scrolling on his phone rather than focusing on the lecture, he debated about whether or not he should say something. But when the student started to show his phone around to those near him, he knew he would have to address the obvious distraction from the lecture.

"Mr. McMillan, if your phone is more important than listening to the rest of this lecture, which does cover a large part of your final, please be my guest and take the rest of the day for yourself," Aaron said as he raised his hand towards the door, suggesting that the boy leave the auditorium. He watched as the boy's face turned a shade of pink as he slipped the phone into his pocket. Aaron mouthed a small thank you to the student and continued with the lecture.

"As I was saying, with the help of Ms. Sinclair, Orpheus is the son of Apollo and Calliope. Eurydice," he said as he wrote the next name down on the board and drew a line connecting the two names together, "on the other hand was a beautiful Spartan princess. She married Orpheus. He played her beautiful songs on his lyre, which is just a smaller version of a harp. Orpheus was an exceptional musician. But that makes sense considering who his parents were."

He leaned back against his desk, partially sitting on top of it. He crossed his feet and rested his hands on each side of him on the desk to hold himself up. "However, tragedy struck the young couple. Eurydice was bit by a snake and died. Orpheus was heartbroken. So much so that he only played the most somber and melancholy songs on his lyre. "

Aaron paused for a moment, letting his students jot down their notes onto their paper. "But that didn't discourage Orpheus from fighting for his true love."

Aaron pushed himself off the desk and started to pace again, rubbing his thumb against his pointer finger as he walked. "He was not willing to give up so easily. So, he came up with a plan."

He walked over to the whiteboard again and wrote the word Underworld on the board. "Now, what are some things you know about the Underworld?"

"It's Hades' domain," a student called out.

Aaron drew an arrow from the word and wrote Hades underneath it. "And Hades is?"

"Zeus' brother," the same student replied.

"Very good. What else do we know about this Underworld, the realm where the souls of the departed end up in Greek mythology?" Aaron probed.

"River Styx!" another student called out enthusiastically.

"Mhm." He added another line to the diagram and turned to face the student that answered. "What about the River Styx?"

"I don't know. I just know it's there," the student laughed.

"Fair enough," Aaron said with a small smile. "We'll be covering that within the next few lessons so I won't worry about drilling it into your heads for the time being. One thing that I do want to mention is Cerberus, the three headed dog that guards the entrance of the Underworld. That will be important for the rest of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice."

Aaron paused yet again, settling back onto the top of the desk but this time he was fully seated on it, his legs dangling off the side. "Now, Orpheus, being heartbroken at the loss of his wife, came up with a plan. He decided to travel to the Underworld to try to regain his love."

"That's crazy. Who would want to go to that place? I mean, I get it he loved the girl but is that even possible?" a student asked.

"It was a wild plan, I will give you that. But Orpheus succeeded. He traveled to the Underworld and managed to strike a deal with Hades after playing his music for him. The ruler of the Underworld was so moved that he granted Orpheus his wish to bring Eurydice back to the land of the living. Hell, the stories even say that Cerberus, the ferocious guardian of the entrance of the Underworld, was howling in despair of the pain Orpheus' music suggested."

A hand rose amongst the crowd. Aaron took his glasses off, gently biting down on the end of the arm of them. He raised his eyebrows at the student, allowing them to speak.

"There's no way that he got her back that easily. Greek mythology seems to, for the most part, at least stem from some kind of tragedy," the student said, clearly not believing that the tale would end happily ever after.

Aaron took his glasses out of his mouth and shook them in the direction of the student. "Excellent observation, Mr. Roth. That brings us to the next part of our tale. Hades gave Orpheus a stipulation; his wife would be brought back to the land of the living as long as Orpheus did not look back at her while they were still in the Underworld."

He hopped off his desk and hooked his glasses onto the collar of his shirt as he continued with the lecture. "Orpheus made the journey back to the light, but he turned around too soon, full of excitement to be reunited with his wife. She vanished before his eyes and he was heartbroken yet again."

"So the moral of the story is to be patient and have trust in the situations that you find yourself in?" a voice called out.

"Precisely," Aaron said, his voice soft. He glanced down at his watch. "I think that's enough for today. For the next class, think of a time in your life where this story applies. A time where you were impatient and lost something that you worked so desperately hard to get. Class dismissed."

The students filed out of the room quickly, allowing Aaron to follow behind them with his satchel tucked under his arm, the same fervor coursing through his veins to get home. He wanted to see Jack.

He wanted to see you.

————

"Oh! You sank my battleship!" you hollered dramatically as Jack managed to get another one of your ships clear off the board.

"Yes!" he shouted, throwing his fist up in success.

You were happy to see him going back to his normal, happy self. Whatever was bothering him earlier had managed to subside by the time you were done watching The Lion King.

The familiar car alarm chirped in the driveway, causing loyal Buster to run to the door in anticipation to see his owner.

You felt almost the same degree of excitement flowing through your body. It was the first time you were seeing Aaron since his touch was embedded into your head. You were wondering if things would be different. If he would be different.

As the front door opened, Jack ran over to his father and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. "Hey buddy," Aaron said with a small chuckle as he patted Jack's back.

"I missed you today," Jack said quietly as he looked up at his father.

"I miss you everyday," Aaron said with a smile. His gaze turned to you and he kept the smile plastered on his face. "How's it going, Y/N?"

"Pretty good. Jack just sunk my battleship...again," you joked, feigning annoyance.

Aaron's smile grew a bit wider, the dimples on his face making another appearance.

You couldn't help but smile at him. His smile was contagious and gorgeous. You felt like it was such a rare occasion that he smiled, even though he was smiling more often around you, that you always studied the way his face looked so you would never forget it.

Aaron headed into the kitchen with his things with Jack following close behind. You followed a few moments after, ready to gather your things and head home.

When you came into the kitchen, you saw Aaron place a hand on his hip as he looked down at Jack who held his hands together tightly in a pleading motion.

"Come on, Dad! It will be fun," Jack begged. He put on a big smile for his father, trying to convince him further to whatever idea he had planned.

"Alright, Jack. I wouldn't mind that. Ask her," Aaron said as he turned his attention towards you. You felt yourself get nervous, not sure as to what it was that Jack was about to ask you.

Jack took a step forward and planted himself in front of you as he looked up at you with big, puppy dog eyes. "Y/N, do you want to stay and have dinner with us?" Jack asked excitedly.

"Oh," you said with shock. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of actually staying and spending time with Aaron, even if Jack was still there. But the rational part of your head was yelling at you to leave. You already were thinking about Aaron too much and you were sure you would be even further doomed if you were subject to his charm and wit for the night. "Maybe another time, Jack. I think Esmé was planning on making a nice fancy dinner tonight."

"Please, Y/N," Jack pleaded. "Stay with us and eat." He held his hands firmly together again in a similar fashion to how he was begging his father to go along with the idea in the first place.

You clicked your tongue and scratched the back of your neck, unsure as to what other excuse you could come up with. "I don't want to intrude on the time you and your dad have together, buddy."

Aaron crossed his arms across his chest and you saw him raise his eyebrows for a quick second behind his glasses. "Stay, Y/N. I'm a pretty good cook," Aaron said with a smirk growing on his face.

You felt your stomach twist further into knots at the thought that one, Aaron wanted you to stay and two, that he was going to be cooking some sort of meal for you.

Aaron, on the other hand, felt desperate. He wanted—no, he needed you to stay. He wanted to learn everything there was about you. He wanted to know your passions, your fears. As his eyes searched yours, he saw the battle that was going on in your head as to whether or not you should stay or go.

He was hoping you couldn't see the way he crossed his fingers together subtly, a silent prayer that you would stay.

He didn't know what was coming over him. All he knew was that at that moment, he didn't want you to leave the house. He had tried to push you out of his head all day, but seeing you here at his house and your gorgeous smile, it was taking everything in his power to keep his composure as he felt himself succumbing to his desire to want to be close to you.

You weren't sure what it was but the way Aaron was staring at you, his eyes soft, it was as if he was subtly begging you to stay.

You knew you shouldn't. You already were feeling things that you never thought you would for the man. But a part of you was curious to try to figure out if he was feeling something similar.

"Alright, fine," you said defeated, throwing your hands up in the air. "I'll stay." Jack let out an excited yell before running back into the living room.

You could have sworn you saw Aaron exhale deeply once you came to your decision, as if he was relieved that you were actually staying. "But I'm telling you now Hotchner, if you're not as good a cook as you say you are, there will be hell to pay," you teased as you pointed your finger in his direction.

And to your surprise, Aaron laughed. He genuinely laughed. It was a sound that was pure music to your ears, something that you wished you could have turned back time to get it on a recording.

"I promise. I am a good cook," he said as he turned around and began to take out some different pots and pans.

You walked next to him and leaned up against the counter. "What exactly are you planning on making?"

He turned his gaze to you, a smug look growing on his face. "Well where's the fun in that? It's a surprise," he said quietly, leaning closer in your direction.

You caught a quick whiff of his cologne, the smell of cedar quickly filling your airspace. You bit down on your bottom lip, the closeness to him becoming almost too much to handle.

His warm honey eyes darted down to your lips and back up to your own eyes. He cleared his throat and stood back up straight, starting to pull some random ingredients out of the cabinet in front of him.

You shut your eyes for a second, disappointed by how quickly he stood away from you. "I'll be in the living room with Jack," you said. He nodded silently, making his rounds in the kitchen to cook.

As you made your way into the living room, you couldn't help but think about how close he was. You could have reached your hand out and stroked his cheek. You could have been putty melting in his hands.

Aaron watched you walk out of the kitchen, knowing that you wouldn't see his eyes raking across your body. Your perfume lingered in the space where you were in the kitchen, reminding Aaron just how close his face was to yours, how he could have pulled you by your cheeks to brush his lips against yours.

He wanted you. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

———-

"Oh my god," you sighed in content as you took a bite of the food Aaron prepared. He made fettuccine alfredo with chicken. All from scratch.

His eyes shot towards you as he heard the sound of satisfaction fall on your lips. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking a bite of the chicken that rested on his plate. "So, did I live up to your expectations?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster as you took another bite of the pasta.

You watched as Jack twirled the pasta around his fork. He popped it into his mouth and gave his dad a thumbs up. "It tastes good, Dad. I could eat the whole pot!"

"That's an awful lot of pasta," you joked as you took a small sip of the chardonnay that Aaron had poured for the two of you. He insisted it made the meal but you were wondering if it had different indications than what he led on.

"Yeah it is but I could eat it," Jack said. Aaron rolled his eyes jokingly at his son's active imagination.

A few minutes passed and you all were eating in content. This time, there was a much more comfortable silence that fell between you all, something that you could easily get used to.

"So, Y/N, what made you pick up an interest in Greek mythology?" Aaron asked, clearly ripping off the bandaid he had been gripping to all day. He had to know. He wanted to know more about you.

"I took a class in high school, actually. And from there, I've done most of my learning on my own. I don't know," you laughed softly.

God your laugh. Aaron would never get over hearing it. He took a sip of his wine and glanced at you over the rim of the glass, watching you absentmindedly twirl your fork around in the pasta.

"I just find it interesting that there's so many stories that they came up with and they all have some sort of deeper meaning to them."

Aaron nodded in agreement, finding himself entranced with your words. You were right of course. There were so many things those stories explained, like the natural world or even as something simple to not be selfish.

"That's why I like them so much. The interpretation of them all varies and you can learn so much," he added.

"I like the ones with Jason and the Astronauts," Jack interrupted. Small laughs from you and Aaron filled the space between you at Jack's mispronunciation.

"Argonauts," you and Aaron said at the same time, correcting the young Hotchner.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "What's the word?" he asked.

"Argonauts," Aaron repeated.

"Astronauts is cooler," Jack concluded as he took another bite of his chicken. "Can I be excused?"

Aaron glanced at his plate and pointed his fork in the direction of his son's food. "Eat another bite of chicken and you can be."

Jack scarfed down the chicken quickly and left the table.

Realization hit you rather quickly.

It was just you and Aaron. A tinge of pink fell across your face at the fact that you were alone with Aaron.

You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter. "So, how did your lecture go today?" you asked.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders and kept his gaze on his plate. "Could have gone better, I suppose."

"What did you talk about?" You took another drink of your wine and this time, it was you glancing at him over the rim of the glass.

"Orpheus and Eurydice."

"That's a good one. Heartbreaking in the end but I like the story of it all," you admitted.

Of course you knew it. Aaron figured you would. He wished you could have been in his class. You clearly knew so much about the subject matter and he was becoming impressed the more you spoke.

"It's definitely one of the sadder ones," he agreed.

You placed your fork down on your napkin, full from the delicious dinner you just ate. "I think it's one of the best representations of agape in Greek mythology that there is," you added, running your finger along the rim of your wine glass.

Aaron felt his nerves go wild.

Agape?

How the hell did you know about that?

You certainly kept him on his toes.

"And you know about agape, the Greek word for the concept of self-sacrificing love. I have to say, Y/N, I really wasn't expecting you to be so well versed in the subject," he admitted. "But figures, a smart girl like you would go above and beyond to learn about whatever you set your mind to." He took another sip of his wine and his eyes were looking at you more intently.

You definitely felt your face blush at his words. You tried to keep your composure as best as possible, but how could you when he was being so fucking charming and looking at you the way he was?

"I am just full of surprises," you teased, making your voice almost a whisper.

You watched as Aaron licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. "You most certainly are," he agreed, his words coming out with an exhale. "Question for you though."

"Hm?"

"What makes you think that the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is full of agape?" he challenged.

You took a moment to try to cohesively get your thoughts together. Well, as best you could with the way Aaron was looking at you.

"Well for starters, the man literally went to the Underworld to try to get his wife back. It was an unheard of feat. And the fact that Orpheus was willing to do whatever it took to get her back just shows how much he couldn't live without her. How much he loved her."

Aaron nodded slowly, finishing the rest of his wine. "You make a good point there," he said after he swallowed the chardonnay.

You nodded in agreement. You couldn't believe that you were engaging in such a deep conversation with Aaron. But it felt so natural. So right.

You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost 9pm. "I think I better get going," you said quietly. You pushed yourself away from the table and placed your dishes in the sink.

When you turned around to go grab your things, you bumped into a solid mass.

Aaron.

He grunted lightly at the contact, a flicker of his smile dancing across his lips.

"Sorry," you said quickly as he looked down at you. You stared at him for a second, as he did to you, before pulling yourself out of your trance and stepping around him to grab your belongings.

"Not a problem," he said as he placed his and Jack's dishes in the sink. "Let me walk you out." You nodded silently and watched as he grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the counter.

He patted the bottom of the carton against his palm before taking one of the cigarettes out, resting it between his lips as he walked with you towards the door.

He opened the door for you and you turned to say your goodbyes.

As much as you truly didn't want to.

"Thank you for dinner," you said with a smile.

"Don't worry about it," he assured as he leaned against the doorframe, the cigarette bouncing between his lips with each word.

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Aaron."

"You too, Y/N."

You headed to your car, settling into the driver's seat quickly, your brain still reeling from the events of the night.

You glanced back towards the Hotchner home and saw Aaron still leaning against the door frame, the faint orange glow of the lit cigarette piercing through the darkness of the sky.

You pulled away from the house and headed back home, watching as the Hotchner home disappeared from your rear view mirror.

Once you got home, you opened the door and pressed your back against it, still shocked with the overwhelming feelings that were still in your stomach, your head. Everywhere.

Esmé turned her head around towards you from the couch. When she saw your shocked and speechless expression, a shit-eating grin grew rapidly on her face. "Spill...the...details...now," she demanded as you sat down next to her on the couch.

As you were retelling the way you and Aaron had a few more moments that night, your phone dinged.

"Don't be a fool! Answer it!" Esmé hollered, smacking her hand gently on your leg.

Your heart fluttered when you saw the name of the person texting you.

                                                   Aaron Hotchner

-You left your book here. I found it under the couch when I was straightening up.

                                -Oh, I totally forgot about it! Sorry! I'll grab it on Monday.

-The Centaur, huh? You really are a bit of a nerd when it comes to mythology aren't you?

                                            -Maybe. But it's also just a good book in general.

-I'll have to give it a read then.

                    -I'm going to test you on it if you do read it, just so you're aware.

-I'll be counting on it.

-Goodnight, Y/N.

                                                                                            -Goodnight, Aaron.

You sighed loudly, trying to ignore Esmé who was staring at you with wide eyes. You clutched your phone tighter in your hand and turned to look at her.

"I'm in such deep shit," you admitted as you leaned back on the couch, resting your head on the headrest.

——

authors note:

i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! i also hope the lecture part wasn't too boring. i figured it was a good change of pace.

thanks for reading! i appreciate the support <3

see you next chapter!

-jordyn

[siennahrobek]

“He’s holding me back,” Anakin snarled as Obi-Wan carefully paced a cup of steaming tea in front of him. He had come to the older master quite readily after he and Qui-Gon had joined their crew. Getting picked up by a fleet of venator class destroyers could either be incredibly embarrassing or quite impressive. Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure which Anakin thinks. He had steeped Anakin something sweet and calming; exactly what the young knight needed. It was pretty much what he needed all the time, to be honest. The boy had more than just a bit of a temper.

Being around Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t exactly help.

The man rather indulged him.

Obi-Wan shrugged as he sat down on the opposite side of the thin table, shifting the cup towards Anakin and pulling his own closer. He made direct eye contact as he took a sip. Usually, it would prompt Anakin to do the same. In the company of certain people, Anakin sometimes mirrored others’ actions. Obi-Wan was one of those people. “Perhaps. But you are no longer a padawan. A knight in your own right,” he assured gently. He honestly doubted that Qui-Gon was actually holding Anakin back; Obi-Wan was fairly certain no one could really hold him back.

Sometimes however, he could be convinced to step back once in a while. It was a rare occurrence, but it had happened before.

“He’s jealous of my power,” Anakin snapped, nearly cracking the mug his fingers were laced around. Obi-Wan gently put a hand over his to stop it and pull it away. Anakin’s fingers were trembling in the jedi’s own and Obi-Wan gave a gentle, assuring squeeze before he pushed the mug a little further into Anakin’s purview.

In the end, Obi-Wan had actually snorted. The concept was rather ridiculous, his master being anything of the sort. Anakin was thinking things, perhaps even told things like this, but it couldn’t be the truth. “Doubtfully,” he muttered, something low but able for the younger man to hear rather clearly. He cleared his voice to continue. “Qui-Gon Jinn isn’t jealous of anyone, least of all you, Anakin. Take a sip, you will feel better.”

He hesitated but Anakin did so, mirroring Obi-Wan. They drank in silence, but the air was turning more comfortable. Tension bled from his shoulders as they released, and he slumped down a little bit. Anakin’s temper always seemed to be running high these days and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he could help in a way that Anakin really needed. He only, currently, had momentarily solutions to a bigger issue.

“A bit better?” he asked. He knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Anakin admitted begrudgingly with a sigh, shaking his head. He glanced over down below the balcony and then back at Obi-Wan, something sad but fiery in his eyes. It was a rather strange combination, Obi-Wan had to admit. “I should be out here, with you. In the war. Fighting.”

“It is not as glamorous as you are thinking it is,” the older jedi just hummed, taking a sip of his own tea and once again, Anakin took his own sip. He wondered if the younger man realized what he did.

“I know that.”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan refuted but it was kind and patient, shooting a look to project that when Anakin stared at him, a bit angry at his counter. He didn’t like people contradicting him or telling him what he knew. Usually he wouldn’t, but Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had no idea what war was actually like. Not like this. Obi-Wan just tried to keep himself as serene and enduring as ever, to deal with Anakin’s irritated and frustrated disagreements. “I would not expect you too, either. Master Jinn is right about one thing, we shouldn’t be fighting a war.”

“You agree with him?” Anakin sputtered, surprised. The concept was befuddling to him and Obi-Wan wondered what exactly he knew about the war. Master Jinn was certainly not favorable; he couldn’t imagine the older master saying anything nice about it. Perhaps he even spun falsehoods. “Then why do you?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan looked over the ledge that sat about the rest of the mess hall, off to the side. Down below them was the rest of the mess hall and cafeteria, littered and crawling with troopers. Obi-Wan could feel them, he could always feel them. They filled him with such warmth and care, it made it just a bit easier to get up each morning and fight in a war that he could not stand being in. Yes, it was to protect innocents, but he reminded himself everyday that he could do what he had to protect as many as them as well. “Reach out and tell me what you feel,” he added. It was more of a suggestion than a demand but rarely did Anakin see that kind of difference.

Anakin sighed and rolled his eyes, staring at him intently. “You are not my master, Obi-Wan.” This much was true. Anakin was a knight, he no longer needed – or wanted for that matter – a master telling him what to do, but Obi-Wan had a point. At his core, he always knew he would be a bit of a teacher. He always had a point.

“Humor me,” Obi-Wan glanced at him with a kind smile.

The younger man just sighed again, loud and dramatic, and eventually complied. He looked over, beyond the railing, down in the large room that harbored so many soldiers. Some of them were in their amor uniform, usually sans helmet and others in blacks. Officers had their own uniforms that they were hardly out of, whether they were clone or not. A minute passed. Two.

Obi-Wan just waited patiently.

But then. “What do you feel?”

“They are warm,” Anakin acknowledged, his voice starting to soften, just as Obi-Wan spotted his eyes doing the same. “Brighter than I expected them to be. “They are strong, loyal, determined. Doing their best and being their best. They care about one another such certainty and persistence.” His smile was gentle and kind, lacking the fiery passion that usually inhabited him.

He could make friends here, Obi-Wan thought.

But Obi-Wan just nodded and Anakin looked back at him. He was still in a bit of a daze, probably from seeing and feeling all that warmth and light, but he was still listening, probably expecting Obi-Wan to tell him his point for the exercise. Whether or not Obi-Wan would say anything, he knew that Anakin didn’t quite regret what the older master had asked of him. “They are living and breathing beings. Sentients with hopes and dreams, whether they admit it or not. Whether they consciously know it or not,” he started. Many times, had he heard that the soldiers only dreamed of the survival of themselves and their brothers from one day to the next and didn’t think of the future that they may have afterwards. Although Obi-Wan believed them, when they said such things, he also thought they had subconscious desires and dreams for that future. Hopes for it. Even if they hadn’t been able to quite realize them yet. He truly hoped he could help them get to that point.

“I know they are,” Anakin added quietly, staring down at his tea before taking a small sip, unprompted. Obi-Wan counted it as a win. It was hard enough for Anakin to drink tea, even when he knew it helped him.

“They are a large reason why I do this. Why I must,” Obi-Wan responded, just as soft, staring down at the gently swirling liquid in his cup.

Anakin glanced up at him, his head turning a bit. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan pointed to the corner of the mess hall, a small table inhabited by non-clones and non-jedi. There weren’t many of them, but Anakin had a thought that it was rather on purpose. They packed together, rather tightly and did not move away from their specific table, keeping together and not milling with anyone else around. “What do you feel from them?” he asked, a bit abruptly.

Anakin groaned again but it was light and only half-hearted, but did so, taking a breath before letting his eyes sweep over the room and then settle on the table in the corner. He closed his eyes briefly and reached. With a frown, he started to speak, to explain what he felt. It didn’t appear that he liked what he was feeling, what he found in them. “They…aren’t happy. But…not in the sense of war, not in grief or sadness but like, they are dim, displeased, annoyed. They feel…disgust? Indifference?”

Obi-Wan nodded. He had felt it.

“Do they…are their feelings because of the clones?” Anakin asked, startled at the thought and pending realization.

“Sometimes, yes. Those few right there think of the troopers much like the rest of the galaxy sees them. As though they are droids encased in flesh; worthy only to be cannon fodder,” Obi-Wan explain, only sparing those men a quick glance. He looked back at the troopers that made up most of the room and Anakin could feel him softening again.

Anakin’s lip curled as a snarl escaped out. The thought made him angry.

“They do not care so much for casualties, only absolute victory, no matter the cost,” Obi-Wan continued. “If they jedi were not here to use tactics and ideas that wouldn’t decimate the numbers…I imagine it would be much worse,” he sighed, shaking his head with a deepening frown. “The clones are so willing, so eager, so loyal. I do not quite understand how anyone can meet them and not love them.”

“You are trying to save them,” Anakin said and felt pushed around by the appreciation and care for the troopers. It was interesting to feel. Jedi were known for their compassion and kindness, their wiliness to help others, sometimes even at the cost of their own lives, but it felt a bit different with the troopers. Anakin was beginning to understand why the jedi may have chosen to enter the war; if only to try and help in any way they could. There was something different about these beings. Like they were somehow intertwined with the jedi. Made to be friends, to work together, made for one another in a way that was profound, and one Anakin couldn’t quite understand or comprehend in words. He wondered if others had noticed this.

“I am not so naïve to think I can do so,” Obi-Wan replied, breaking through Anakin’s thoughts. “But I want to get at least as many as I can through this war. They…care about us in a way we don’t generally see associated with the jedi. The least we can do is try to get them through this and return the favor the best we can.”

“Do other jedi feel this way?” Anakin hadn’t even realized he had spoke for a moment, verbally saying what he had been thinking just seconds prior. Sometimes he felt so different than others, like he was the only one who could connect on the level that he did. Like he was an exception.

Master Qui-Gon thought he was an exception.

Obi-Wan nodded and there was absolutely no hesitation to it. “Not everyone of course, but most, at the very least. Even if we hadn’t been drafted into the war, I think the Council would have done the same.”

“Drafted?” Anakin blinked.

“Yes.”

“Wait. So, the Order was forced to join the war?” Anakin asked incredulously because…that was not what he had heard. Over a year in and this was the first he had heard of such a thing.

Obi-Wan hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one giving this information, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one having this conversation, but his brows furrowed, and he nodded. “Yes, Anakin,” he replied slowly. He had to be careful with how he spoke. Anakin’s friendship with the leader of the Republic was not exactly a secret and everyone knew how protective Anakin was of his friends. “The Chancellor made it…very clear we did not have much of a choice.”

“Master Qui-Gon said you chose it,” Anakin responded, and he sounded numb, his voice just kind of dropping off in surprise.

You, Obi-Wan mused with darkening thoughts. Had Qui-Gon meant Obi-Wanspecifically chose this or was Qui-Gon distancing himself from the jedi already? Had his old master turned Anakin against the jedi; made him see himself an exception for everything? Chosen one or not, Anakin was a jedi. That was not to change unless Anakin chose to change it. But one could not continue to truly be a jedi if they thought of themselves as exceptions to the rules, to the guidelines, to the faith of their culture.

“No, Anakin,” his voice came out nearly as a croak. “The Order was drafted.”

“But Master Jinn…” Anakin drifted off, staring down at his tea. There was barely any of it left. “If the Jedi were drafted, not everyone is involved. Master Jinn, he…he’s not a part of it.”

“We found a loophole for him,” Obi-Wan confessed and it felt a bit different when he spoke it. He found a loophole for his former master; to ease the mess. He couldn’t imagine what Qui-Gon would have done or said if they hadn’t kept him out of it. Whether or not it was the right choice, Obi-Wan knew, even if they could get Qui-Gon to work within the confines of the war, he would almost certainly have become Obi-Wan’s problem. And Obi-Wan dealt with his old master enough as it was. “He was rather vehement in his stance on the war, so we claimed his injury and ability would make quote useless on the battle field,” he explained.

“His injury?” Anakin echoed.

“From Naboo.”

Anakin nodded in sudden understanding but his gaze was far off, nearly vacant, like there was something happening in his mind, wheels turning that not even Obi-Wan could fathom or comprehend. “I guess that is smart. He wouldn’t have listened anyways,” he confessed. It sounded rather fond, which wasn’t surprising. Anakin’s soft and often blind spot when it came to Master Jinn was always apparent. He loved Master Jinn’s blatant disregard for rules, to follow what he thought and believed was the will of the Force. Whether or not it actually was the Will of the Force, it hardly mattered. It was the will of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Qui-Gon often seemed to believe that he was the only one who really understood the will of the Force.

At this point, everyone was too tired and too busy to even try to argue with him. Not that anyone wanted to argue with him because it never did anything, never got anywhere. One could not change Jinn’s mind, could not shift his perspective or make him think in any other ways.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“I wasn’t forced,” Anakin realized quietly after a long moment of the two sitting in silence, sipping what was left of their tea, not lukewarm. “I wasn’t even asked,” he added.

“That is partially my doing,” Obi-Wan confessed. He knew he would have to have this conversation at some point, and he had been dreading it ever since it had been done.

Anakin surged in anger and Obi-Wan could feel it. It was fairly certain everyone could feel it. The troopers in particular seemed rather sensitive and knowing of a jedi’s moods and projections. “Why?” Anakin demanded. “Did you not think I’d be good enough for-?”

“Anakin, calm down,” Obi-Wan said, quickly slipping in his own before things could get any worse and his projections stronger. “Take a sip of your tea.”

There was not much left but there was enough. Scowling, he complied.

“Qui-Gon was already going to disown me, and I knew how you feel about him, and you were still a padawan at the time…I didn’t want the same to happen to you,” Obi-Wan started. He wasn’t sure how to explain this but he would do his best with what he had on hand.

“I’m not you.”

Ouch, that stung. It was true, of course, in many more ways than Anakin knew, but that hardly made it hurt any less.

“That came out wrong,” Anakin nearly winced.

“You aren’t wrong. You aren’t me,” Obi-Wan said, which, of course, was always true. Lucky him, the master thought. He didn’t say that Qui-Gon loved Anakin in a way that he was still incapable of caring for Obi-Wan. It wasn’t either of their faults and Obi-Wan knew a lot of the blame could be found on Xanatos and the Chosen One prophecy, but that hardly made it any easier to live and deal with. It could very much be exhausting. Anakin didn’t see it, not yet, and Obi-Wan still isn’t entirely sure if he ever would. “But that does not mean he would be happy with it. You know how he feels about the war, about my part in it. About the jedi’s part in it. I didn’t want you to have to go through that. Something even remotely like that. My apologies, I wanted to keep you out of the war best I could. You are so young.”

“I am an adult! A knight!” Anakin’s voice rose into a near screech. So ready, so adamant to prove that he is mature and capable and an adult. Of course, he was capable, but his maturity wasn’t nearly as rounded as he liked to believe, and he often just did not think. He reminded Obi-Wan of Master Jinn this way. It was his way or no way at all. But unlike Master Jinn, at least in the present some of the times, Anakin was also just a bit more inclined to listen to Obi-Wan. Not all the time, of course, because Anakin always thought he was right, but with the right care and nudging and so much patience, Obi-Wan, on occasion, could get through to him on certain subjects.

“Anakin,” he said his name with as much fondness and softness and patience as he could muster. Which, when it came to this boy, was quite a bit. “War is….it is not like any mission you have been on. It is constant and it does not end. There is a goal, but it does not finish there. There is always something else, something so time sensitive. You don’t get to go home after one mission is done, there is always another, linked swinging from one to another. There is so much more violence and death, and it chips off pieces of yourself every moment. It stays with you, long, long after the conflict may be resolved,” he said, and Anakin seemed rather enraptured in what Obi-Wan was saying. He couldn’t understand all of what Obi-Wan was referencing and he wouldn’t understand how this would stay with those who fought in it. Conflict like this, although not to scale, was something Obi-Wan knew, at times, rather intimately. “It is an experience, a pain, a dirt you can never be clean of,” he insisted, swallowing hard. “War is messy, and nothing is so clean cut as people often make it out to be. You keep giving things up; your ability, your mind, your emotions, your morals, your soul, loyalty, trust…. until there is nothing left of you to give. It becomes written in your bones until it is hard to imagine you were anything else. It takes the best things of life, of ourselves, and only gives back the worst and most destructive for us to figure out how to live with.”

[pretty-setter-bois]

elephant in the banquet hall

request; please do a continuation of this!! i love it!! 😭

summary; the long-awaited prequel to elephant in the room — how a small interaction in hong kong led to an awkward tension, which might even lead to something more.

word count; 3343™

warnings; none, just a bit suggestive, an almost-car accident.

sequel

     “I’M BACK NOW.” haru announces, subconsciously tugging at his collar. 

“welcome back.” kamei greets, barely looking up from his screen.

“welcome back! how was hong kong? you ate a lot of yummy food, right?” saeki interrogates. 

he pauses for a second, blushing a little. “n-not so much...” he hands over a bag of mooncakes. “here's a gift for you guys.”

“wow! these mooncakes look so tasty! let's all have some!” saeki beams, taking them out of the bag. “huh? it's already open.

“sorry, i ate one as my share.” he apologizes, his tone anything but.

“you're so greedy. you ate a ton of delicious food, and on top of that you snacked on our gift?” kamei looks up to glare at him.

“i'm telling you, i didn't get to eat any good food.” haru sighs.

“but wasn't there a party at some fancy hotel after the symposium?”

“yeah, there was a party, but...”

     KATO WALKS UP to you and daisuke, a plate in his hands. “i'm starving... i finally managed to get two slices of the roast beef... i usually don't get to eat expensive cuts like this.” he eyes his food, earning a small chuckle from you as you eye your own plate. “huh? aren't you going to eat?” he turns to daisuke.

“no.” daisuke deadpans.

“what's wrong with you? here, i'll give you a slice. i waited in line for 10 minutes for this, so eat it with care.” he puts a piece on daisuke’s plate.

the black-haired man is reluctant, but takes a bite nonetheless. he immediately places his fork down, patting his mouth down with a napkin.

“this is so tough it's inedible. the quality of the meat is bad, and it's overcooked.” he begins to complain.

“what? stop complaining and eat.” haru furrows his eyebrows, something he did a lot around the millionaire. “someday, you're going to get what you deserve.”

“i'm heading over to a different restaurant now. do you want to come?” he asks, standing up.

“i’m fine, thank you.” you smile.

“this is plenty good for me, see you later.” haru says, cutting his food.

he walks off, leaving you and haru alone.

“sheesh, he's such a jerk... how do you raise someone to be such a picky eater?” haru rambles, and you laugh again.

“don’t get mad at him. why didn’t you go with him, anyway?” you ask.

he turns his head towards you, taking in your appearance. you look stunning — not that you usually don’t — and he forgets that you’ve asked him a question.

“kato?” you ask again.

“oh, uh, i didn’t want this food to go to waste.”

i want to stay with you.

you finish your food, drying your hands on the warm towels the banquet had gifted you with and popping the peppermints they gave you in your mouth. you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

on the other hand, haru is stopped by a man on his way out. “hello? are you from japan?”

“huh? oh...” kato switches languages. “i'm japanese.”

“i would like to ask about the police box system in japan.” the man states.

“in japan...?” haru tilts his head, confused.

"yes, about the police box system.”

"s-sorry...” the taupe-haired man apologizes, unable to comprehend ‘police box system’.

he hears a voice behind him, turning his head to find you.

“oh, the police box system?” you answer in flawless english. “it’s a box-like phone-station, created so that we’re able to reach the police at anytime.”

“ah, really?” answers the man. “i’m from the united states, here’s my card.” he hands you a card. “i’m here on business to research ways to better the police system in america.” (as he should).

“any more questions?” you ask, looking down at his card.

“oh, no. i just wanted to get a vague idea of what they did. thank you.” he grins, and you could’ve sworn he winked, “don’t worry, the number is international.”

“alright, goodbye.” you wave with a smile.

“actually, i do have one question-” the man begins.

“sorry, we have to go.” haru tries to get to the point with the little english he knew.

the man nods warily, leaving to find someone else to speak to. “see you around.”

haru turns around to you, his face solemn. “come on, we have to go.”

     “SO THAT’S WHY i didn't get a chance to eat.” haru explains, leaving out the last part.

“i can see why that happened. after all, it was an after party for an international symposium.” saeki nods.

“my english score was like 70 points out of 200 back when i took the national center test for university admissions.” he continues.

“how were you able to even join the metropolitan police department?” kamei squints. “anyways, you're like the most japanese person i know. you’re lucky (L/N) was there to save you.”

“oh yeah!” saeki says. “where is (L/N)-chan anyways?”

“ah...” haru’s mind trails to last night, and he shakes his head. “she called in sick today, said she caught a cold out of nowhere.”

“hm, strange...” kamei places his chin in his hand. “(L/N) usually doesn’t call in sick, even if she does have a cold.”

“maybe she’d really sick, we shouldn’t bother her.” haru tries to redirect the conversation.

“what could get (L/N)-san so sick to the point where she’d have to call in sick?” saeki ponders, and haru coughs to avoid gulping.

“so, did you end up missing your chance to eat?” kamei finally changes the topic.

“no, i didn't have a choice, so i tagged along with kambe to go eat.” haru exhales a sigh of relief.

“oh, so you were able to eat something delicious after all.” kamei nods.

“actually, that’s not really the case...”

“wait, i'm not sure if i understand. you got to eat, or you didn't?”

“i guess you can say i ate something...” he thinks of the mooncake, then trailing off to the thought of you. he lightly shakes his head again.

"the fact that you went to eat with kambe means that you went to a super high-end restaurant, right? how much was it? how was the meal?”

“500,000 yen.”

“you're kidding me!” saeki exclaims. “500,000?! that's way more than my monthly salary!”

“it's more than my salary, too. but... expensive doesn't necessarily mean good...” haru rubs the back of his neck.

     THE THREE OF you arrive at a high-end restaurant, one which daisuke seems to be familiar with. you and haru awe at the place, thinking of how expensive it must be.

"what's up with this place... it's so extravagant... but it's empty.” haru notes.

“i reserved the entire restaurant. i eat here often when i'm in hong kong.” daisuke explains.

“i see...” haru nods.

"menu, please.” the waiter greats in cantonese.

although you were better than haru at english, you were considerably clueless when it came to cantonese. he seems to pick up on this.

"thank you.” he thanks the waiter.

he turns to you, giving a brief explanation of the items on the menu and letting you pick.

“i'm starving... i missed out on that roast beef, so i'm craving meat...” he mutters.

“and i missed out on my desert because of you.” you tease jokingly, receiving a sheepish smile from the taupe-haired man.

“there's so many different kinds... meat... meat... meat... here it is. this must be where the meat section starts... let's see... 'pear, piece, with, steam, fruit, small, raccoon dog'... what is this?” he reads the menu aloud to you.

"pear slices with steamed civet.” daisuke answers.

“i can accept the pears... but civets? aren't they similar to raccoon dogs?”

"raccoon dogs are canines, civets are part of the viverridae family. they are completely different species.”

"you're missing the point.” haru says. “fine, i'll pick something else... have you decided, (L/N)?”

“no... i’ve never heard of these food before.” you admit.

"what's this? 'steamed, camel, peak'...” haru reads.

"that's steamed camel hump.” daisuke says.

"pass. let's see... 'boar, brain, temporary, leopard, fetus...”

"that one? you might think that it's stewed leopard fetus, but it's actually pig brains...”

“what the hell do these rich people eat...” you mutter.

"hey! isn't there any normal food here?!” haru yells, seeming to have read your thoughts.

"you sure complain a lot.” daisuke says nonchalantly.

“i'm not complaining! i just want to eat some normal chinese food!”

"this is normal chinese food for me. what do you mean by normal?”

"that would be...” he pauses to think. “for instance, fried rice, potstickers, or congee, you know? like stuff they sell at street food stalls. you don't have to be eating civets or camel humps to have good food!”

daisuke pauses. “a street food stall... i've never been to one...”

“then let's get some street food. the food stalls are cheap and rowdy, and you can always get a taste of the local culture.” haru looks around the restaurant. “what about you, (L/N)?”

“only if you pick what i eat.” you chuckle, earning an eager grin.

“HEUSC, find the best food stall we can get to in one hour.” daisuke presses on his earring.

"understood. balance: unlimited.” HEUSC answers.

the sounds of a helicopter approaching can be heard, waiting for the three detectives to get in. 

“so, where are we?” haru asks.

"a food stall.” deadpans daisuke.

"i know that! you just shoved us on to a chopper and took us to an unknown place, so i'm asking you where the hell we are!”

“this is macau. according to HEUSC, the best food stall within an hour's travel was this one located in sam chan dang, macau-”

"so we came to hong kong for nothing!”

"you sure complain a lot.”

haru sighs, cradling his head in his hands. “why can't we just have an ordinary meal...”

you pat his back reassuringly, a bit excited to see what daisuke has in store for the three of you.

“here you go. sorry to make you wait.” the man says in cantonese, serving you your food.

“well... it does look really tasty...” haru admits.

“yeah.” daisuke nods.

"well, we might as well dig in. i'm absolutely starving.” haru picks up his chopsticks.

“hold on!” daisuke interrupts.

“what now?”

“HEUSC mentioned the possibility of a food safety issue at this stall.”

“don't worry about details like that. this is a food stall, so not everything's gonna be perfect-”

"i can't allow that. HEUSC checked the surrounding radius of 10 meters, and found 7 rats and 48 cockroaches-”

"hey! i just lost my appetite!”

“can we go home?” you ask, already tired.

“oh no...” daisuke says, disregarding what you said.

"hey... what is it this time?” haru sighs.

"we're going back to hong kong.” he states

"huh? why?” you ask.

"the store that i was planning to buy souvenirs at closes in 30 minutes.” daisuke says.

"souvenirs? just buy something from a store that's open!” haru states.

"i can't do that.”

“actually, kambe, me and kato won’t bother you. we’ll look for a food stand, and you get your souvenirs. we’ll tell you when find one.”

haru’s a bit surprised by your words, but would rather spend time with you than hopping restaurants with daisuke.

daisuke nods, waving goodbye and hopping in his helicopter. you wave back, deciding to begin your search for a place to eat, haru close behind, of course.

“look! that place looks good!” you point, light on your feet.

you’re so excited that you don’t notice the truck driving on the road until the horn is almost by your ear.

haru grabs you back by the arm, holding you close as your mind tries to register what happened.

“i’m not letting you out of my sight.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear, bur firm.

you nod, quiet. what if haru hadn’t been there? what would’ve happened then?

a soft squeeze to the hand he’s been holding is all you need for reassurance. you wonder when he began to hold it.

he leads the two of you across to the restaurant that you saw, and you reread the sign.

“motel.” you squint. you take a quick glance of the stores open around you, and this one seems to be the only one. “i think everything else is closed. let’s check if they have food.”

the bell by the door jingles at your entrance, and the secretary at the desk turns to face you.

“hello, we were wondering if there was anywhere we could eat?” you ask.

“the buffet is open for about an hour, but only for the people who have rooms registered.” she answers.

you nod, and watch haru look down at his phone.

“kambe isn’t gonna be here for a while.” he informs you.

“we’ll get a room.” you nod.

she turns around to get the paperwork ready, and haru’s eyes widen.

“what do you mean? we have to leave tomorrow!” he whispers.

“don’t worry,” you assure him. “we’ll sign out early in the morning.”

the secretary turns around and hands you a piece of paper to fill out, to which you finish quickly and hand back to her.

“here’s your bill.” she states.

you’re relieved that it isn’t expensive, as you haven’t brought much money with you in the first place.

“um, excuse me?” you call.

“yeah?” she answers.

“this says single, we asked for a double.” you point to the paper.

haru has to gulp to avoid showing his embarrassment.

“sorry, but we only have one-bed rooms available.” she explains. “it doesn’t seem to be a problem between the two of you, though.”

your faces get red, and you quickly pay. the two of you awkwardly scurry off to the buffet, which you have previously been told is free.

you eat your meals in silence, ‘itadkimasu’ and occasional questions with one-word answers asked, but nothing else.

a ringing phone is what finally snaps the two of you out of it, and you look up to see that it’s haru’s.

“huh?! what do you mean you followed him home?! you don’t have enough space for us?! another flight?!” haru almost yells into his phone, before the other line beeps. “ugh.”

“what happened?” you ask.

“ah...” he nervously rubs at his neck. “daisuke bought too many souvenirs, and there was no place for us to fit.”

“the flight is supposed to be...” you look down at your watch. “right now!”

“yeah, he got us another.”

“when?”

“tomorrow...”

you nod, realizing that you would actually need to stay at the motel.

“it’s a good thing we made early reservations then...”

“yeah...”

     THE TWO OF you enter the reserved room, deciding to might as well get comfortable.

“hey, kato?” you ask. “i’m going to shower, can you look for a futon or something like that?”

he nods, leaving you to the bathroom and him to his thoughts.

the bathroom didn’t have any shampoo or conditioner, just a soap dispenser that serves as a reminder as to why you don’t like hotels.

you dry yourself off, placing on your previous clothes and cursing your past self for wearing something to uncomfortable.

you step out of the bathroom, a towel around your neck as you dry your hair. he notices you and instantly gets up, looking at you in worry.

“i... couldn’t find a futon...”

“it’s fine.” you sigh, placing the towel on a rack. “we’re adults, right?”

he nods, trying to make his gulp unnoticeable.

both your shoes had been placed by the door, and your jacket hung by his on a chair. his tie was on the bedside table, and only then had you noticed that the first few buttons of his shirt were open.

your backs were against each other, trying to get comfortable on the bed with a small pillow in-between you as a divider.

“hey, kato?” you call out. “sorry for getting you into this mess. we could’ve stuck with daisuke instead, but...”

“it’s fine.” he answers. “though, i don’t think i’ll be able to get any sleep tonight.”

“me either.”

the two of you turn to face each other, moving the pillow out of the way. you haven’t noticed the close proximity between you until his hot breath meets yours.

until you look at how his eyes darken, how good his hair looks messy, and confirm that his top buttons are indeed open.

it starts with a small kiss, really. are his lips as soft as they look? that’s all you want to confirm, and confirm you do.

you don’t remember how his shirt ends up on the floor, or how your dress is unzipped. what you do remember, is that it is the best night’s sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

     YOU WOKE UP the next morning with a headache and a few hours of sleep, his phone buzzing on the table beside you.

he reaches to grab it, answering the call with a deep tone. “yeah, we’ll be there.” the call ends soon after. “it’s time to go.”

“i want to sleep.” you mumble.

“you can sleep on the plane.” he helps you up. “come on.”

the two of you get ready for your flight back to japan, and sign out at the front desk of the motel. you make sure to zip up your jacket all the way.

you arrive at the airport, and shortly board the plane after. you try to fall asleep, but the turbulence and noise make it hard to do so.

your headache has gotten worse, and you make a mental note to never shower before bed again.

daisuke greets you both in japan, dropping you off at haru’s home after one look at your condition. you’re far too tired to argue, and head to bed the moment you make it there.

   “THE FACT THAT we have mooncakes here means that he really made the chef make some...” saeki notes.

"yeah, he got ahold of the chef just as he got home. apparently, he made the chef return to the shop immediately to make some mooncakes right in front of his eyes.” haru explains.

“what do you mean? weren’t you there?” kamei asks.

“ah, i went to grab... dinner with (L/N).” haru sweats.

“that must have annoyed the chef,” kamei thinks. “bringing him back to the restaurant to cook, i mean.”

"but actually... you can't quite say that.”

"why? no matter how you look at it, what he did was out of line.”

“kambe bought the mooncakes for 5 million yen per box.”

"how many boxes did he buy?” saeki questions.

"this one, and the one box for his grandmother.” kato sighs.

“in other words, 10 million yen for two boxes of mooncakes... let's see, so there's 10 pieces in each box. so each piece is 500,000 yen...” kamei concludes.

"oh! so that means your dinner last night was...” saeki thinks.

"besides the food i ate with (L/N), it was this mooncake. i ate one on the flight back.” haru stands up. “i have to get her her mooncake, i was just stopping by to make sure everyone had one.”

“give her our best wishes!” waves saeki.

haru nods, wrapping your mooncake in a cloth and leaving the building. he is tired, but the fatigue he was feeling was nothing compared to yours.

he remembers that daisuke had dropped you off at his home, since neither knew your address and the black-haired man needed to get to work.

he opens the door to his apartment, hanging his jacket by the door and placing the mooncake on the table. he brings it to your sleeping form with a few headache tablets and a glass of water, leaving it on the bedside table.

he grabs a few of his clothes and heads in the the shower, drying off and deciding to take a short nap on the couch afterwards.

he falls asleep shortly, forgetting about the elephant in the room which waited to greet the two of you once you’ve woken up.

NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

long awaited part two! i thought a prequel would be the best way to write a second part, and they can be read in any order :)

this story also takes place betweem episode two and episode four, during the flight to hong kong.

[dreaming-in-alicante]

New chapter is up! Way longer than I planned it to be, lol. I mention Grace training with a bow and arrow in this chapter and now I'm just thinking about how awesome it would be for her to bond with Gabriel over archery.

Chapter 2: Taking stock

Grace jolted as a loud bang echoed through the basement. She was grateful that she had set down her glass beaker a moment before, else she surely would have dropped it. She whirled swiftly around, locating Christopher, and was relieved to find him startled but unharmed. Still, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, inspecting his shirtsleeve where a hole had burned through. “My apologies. It turns out that combining a Swiftness rune with my current modified rune does not in fact make a message travel as desired, it just causes the message to explode,” he said, unfazed. He had been working on another long-time project, a way to send messages in an instant. “Perhaps I should take a break and return to this project later when Henry is around to consult with. He should be back from Idris next week.” Christopher bent to write something in his notebook, then made his way over to Grace’s station where she had a solution refluxing over a Bunsen burner. “How are you getting on with the synthesis?” he asked.

Grace had been working her way through some of Christopher’s old notebooks. The best way to gain scientific knowledge, it turned out, was to do the experiments yourself. She was attempting to replicate his results on past projects. In the process, she was learning basic techniques and becoming comfortable with the various instruments and chemicals in the laboratory.

“It seems to be going well,” shee told him, “although the solution is a darker yellow than you have described in your notes.” This began a very informative discussion about reaction conditions and the purity of compounds. By this point, it was starting to get dark outside, and so Grace finished her experiment and tidied up somewhat. “I’ll see you – not tomorrow, with the family day– Sunday then?” she asked.

“That’s right! I had nearly forgotten,” Christopher said, smiling. “My parents have – wait a moment. I thought we were inviting you and Jesse over! Oh heavens, I hope I wasn’t in charge of telling you,” he said worriedly.

“They did remember to invite us. Jesse will be there,” Grace assured him as she located her coat.

“And you won’t?” Christopher asked, head tilting in confusion.

“I thought it should stay strictly family. Jesse will always be my brother, but Tatiana was never truly family. And I share no blood with you all,” Grace explained. “It all worked out anyway because I… actually have family of my own that I’m meeting tomorrow. Cousins, or technically second cousins, around my age who are coming to London on some business this weekend.” She had sent a letter to her father’s cousin soon after everything had happened, and quickly gotten a response.

“I didn’t realize you had contact with the remaining Cartwrights! That’s wonderful then,” Christopher said jovially. “Have you met them before?” he asked.

Grace shook her head. “Perhaps as a young child, but not that I can remember,” she told him. “They were thrilled to hear from me though. Apparently, they sent letters infrequently over the years. Tatiana,” she said, fists clenching, “never let me know about them, and evidently sent short replies to tell them that I was well, but didn’t want to see them.” It was just one more cruelty Tatiana had inflicted.

Christopher frowned and said solemnly, “I’m very sorry Grace. That’s a terrible thing. I’m sorry that you had to suffer under her for so many years.”

“The important thing is that I’m free of her now,” Grace told him. She had to leave so that she could meet Jesse on time for training, so she quickly put on her coat and started out. “Until Sunday, then,” she said, bidding Christopher good evening before she left.

_________________________________________________________

Grace felt unusually light as she made her way home. It was incredible, she reflected, how so much had changed in just over two weeks. Spending her day in the laboratory was strangely peaceful, despite the occasional explosions. For so many years she had been defined by other people: she was Tatiana’s obedient girl, Jesse’s loving and determined sister, Tatiana’s weapon. In the lab, with Christopher… she was learning how to just be Grace.

Things had also improved outside the lab. Bolstered by a new confidence, Grace had finally accepted Jesse’s offer to join him in training. She was pleased to find that she remembered much of the training they had done together before he died. Over the years she had practiced when she could, but those times were rare with Tatiana prowling the house at odd hours. She was fast becoming skilled with a bow and arrows. She was also learning quickly with a Seraph blade, an entirely new weapon, although she doubted she was yet proficient enough to effectively wield them against a demon.

It was immensely satisfying to train and think how horrified Tatiana would have been. Grace wore dark gear rather than pale silk and lace dresses, hair kept in a simple braid instead of elaborate styles. She was gaining muscles and callouses, as well as covering herself in marks to increase agility, speed, accuracy, and so on. She was no longer Tatiana’s flawless porcelain doll. Even when not training, Grace now preferred simple dresses – necessary when she spent extensive time in a lab where spills and fires were always a risk.

Grace usually joined Jesse for training either quite early or quite late in the day, when fewer people were at the Institute. Jesse would share new techniques that he had learned and spar with her, as did Lucie on the days she joined them. Lucie had warmed again to Grace somewhat, although she still was a bit awkward whenever Cordelia or James came up in conversion. Another wonderful outcome of training was a tentative friendship with Ariadne that began when she encountered Grace and Jesse while training one evening. Ariadne confessed she had been unsettled by the revelations after Grace’s trial, but she bore Grace no ill will. They had started trading book recommendations.

Three friends made in three weeks, Grace thought, quite a change after a lifetime with none. Well, perhaps she had friends before her parents died, but if so, she did not remember them. Although it was difficult to tell whether she was truly friends with Lucie and Ariadne quite yet and not just familiar acquaintances. Grace didn’t entirely know how a friendship worked, how one should interact with friends. However, she was sure that Christopher could be counted as a genuine friend. They spent lots of time together and talked about numerous topics and weren’t those basic elements of a friendship?

_________________________________________________________

Sunday came quickly and Grace arrived in the lab early, eager to start a project she had considered for several days – organizing chemicals and other supplies in the lab. There was a system, vaguely, but she felt it could be much improved. She saw Christopher do a double-take when he arrived a half hour later and realized she was there.

“Grace! Good morning. You’re early. Or am I late?,” he asked, perplexed.

Grace felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Up to this point, she had always gotten to Grosvenor Square later in the morning. “I arrived early today,” she said, alleviating Christopher’s confusion. “I’ve been getting to work on organizing all the chemicals and other compounds. I am also creating a more thorough inventory.”

Christopher appeared pleasantly surprised. “Capital idea, Grace!” he said. He examined the inventory list she had started, and offered a few suggestions for the layout.

“Jesse said you all had a good time together yesterday,” she said, hoping to make conversation as she started rewriting labels that were stained or faded on various vials.

“We did! It was a fine time having the family all together and talking to Jesse,” Christopher said happily, “although there was a small mishap when I tried out another rune combination.” His smile turned sheepish as he added, “Unfortunate, but my mother said the important thing is that no one got hurt, and she believes the sofa can be salvaged.”

Grace smiled slightly at the story, comparing it to the version she had heard from her brother. Jesse’s description of the incident had included a fairly large blaze that nearly set Sophie and Gideon on fire, a good deal of shouting, and the confiscation of Christopher’s steles for the remainder of the evening. “Jesse did mention something about an accident,” she said mildly.

“How was your visit with your cousins?” Christopher asked.

“Splendid. They were both very kind, and easy to talk to. I’ll be keeping in contact with them now,” Grace replied. Truly, it had been a pleasant afternoon with her two cousins – Samuel, Grace’s age, and Sarah, three years older. They had exchanged telephone numbers, and the two had extended an invitation for Grace to spend a weekend with them in Idris at the end of the month, to meet their parents and other siblings.

_________________________________________________________

They were working in companionable silence that afternoon when a voice that Grace recognized as Thomas Lightwood’s called “Hello Kit!”

“Afternoon, Tom!” Christopher greeted him as Thomas stepped into the lab.

“Oh, and Grace. Good afternoon. Kit and Jesse mentioned you were helping out now,” Thomas said, looking a bit unsure.

“Hello, Thomas,” Grace said simply in reply. She turned back to the bench and busied herself inspecting a bottle, putting on a new label, and marking it in the growing inventory list. She had seen Thomas several times in passing, and he came up fairly frequently in conversations with her new mutual friends, but she had not spoken with him directly. She was grateful when Christopher began updating Thomas on his research, and Thomas’s scrutinizing gaze moved away from her. Evidently Thomas had stopped by early to catch up with Christopher before the Merry Thieves all went out that evening.

Grace did her best to avoid Thomas as she moved around the lab to get various chemicals or use different instruments like the microscope. She did have to interrupt their conversation at one point, calling Christopher over to inspect a vial, because did it actually contain demon poison? (It did – from a Raum demon to be precise) Several minutes later she searched for a bottle that she swore had been right in front of her. “Christopher, have you seen the hydrochloric acid?” she asked.

“Hm, I’m not sure that I have,” he said, searching around slightly, but keeping his attention largely focused on pipetting a solution.

Thomas sighed but smiled fondly as he plucked the bottle in question from among the glassware in from of Christopher. “It’s right here,” Thomas said, then walked over towards Grace. “There you are,” he said, handing her the bottle.

“Thank you,” Grace replied, taking the bottle from him somewhat clumsily. He started to turn, then halted.

“I know everything’s all still a bit awkward, but – especially after talking with Jesse yesterday– I just want you to know that I don’t hold anything against you, Grace,” Thomas told her earnestly. “Goodness knows I’ve made bad decisions myself. And when I imagine myself in your situation – if I’d had the opportunity to get my sister back,” he said, swallowing hard, “and only Aunt Tatiana for company, well… I’ll just say that I can understand your motivations. I hope that we can be on amiable terms.” He looked very sincere.

“I – er, thank you. I appreciate it,” Grace said, uncertain how to respond. That seemed enough to satisfy Thomas, however; he nodded at her and made his way back to Christopher’s work station.

The atmosphere was much less tense after that, but it did not last long. Christopher was somewhere upstairs, changing from his burned and stained lab clothing into something he was allowed out in for the evening, when she heard more than one person coming down the stairs. She looked up to see alarm rising in Thomas’s expression, and turned to see James and Matthew as they greeted Thomas.

“Ah,” James said, he and Matthew halting as they saw Grace. “Miss Blackthorn,” he greeted her coolly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” His expression indicated that he would have much preferred not to see her ever again.

“It’s Cartwright again, actually,” Grace told him, fiddling with her pen, unsure what to do with her hands.

“Good afternoon, Miss Cartwright. What are you doing in my father’s lab? Are you planning to seduce Thomas or Kit now?” Matthew asked, voice bright with false cheerfulness.

Grace struggled to restrain her temper at the insult. “I am here to study science, and work on research with Christopher. I have been doing so for the last several weeks, in fact,” she said evenly.

“Science? You’re here to learn about science? With Christopher?” James asked, as he and Matthew stared at her incredulously.

“You expect use to believe that?” Matthew asked, eyebrows raised. “That you have suddenly been overcome with a burning interest in science, have come to the Consul’s house, and you don’t have some ulterior motive?”

Grace took a deep breath. “I am interested in science. I never had the freedom to pursue it before but I find it exceedingly fascinating. I am trying to find a place for myself, and a purpose. And Christopher,” she emphasized, “has no issue with my being here.” She stared them both down. “I know I did you terrible wrongs. I have apologized, to both of you, and many others. I don’t know what else you expect me to do,” she said in an icy tone. “And even if you doubt my sincerity, you must have by this point heard that my power was removed. Ask your mother the Consul,” she said, gesturing at Matthew, “or ask Jem Carstairs and the other Silent Brothers.”

It was at this tense moment that Christopher returned, changed into clothing that had not yet been stained or burned. “James, Matthew!” he greeted them happily, then seemed to finally register the fact that everyone’s expression looked strained. “Is something the matter?” he asked confusedly.

“Yes, somewhat,” James said. “You somehow forgot to mention that Miss Bla- sorry, Miss Cartwright has been helping you in the lab?” He stared hard at Christopher, face showing his disbelief.

“Yes, Grace has been helping. It’s been quite a good time so far,” Christopher said, still looking quite baffled. “Did you want to help too?” he asked, looking between both James and Matthew.

“We’re not upset because we want to help in the lab,” Matthew burst out, “we want to know why you not only invited our – our nemesisinto my family’s house, and neglected to even mention it!”

“Grace is our nemesis?” Christopher asked, looking even more bewildered.

“Kit, do you not remember the entire ordeal over the past few months? In which we discovered that for years Grace used a bracelet and demon powers to control my mind? Under the direction of your crazy aunt and my demon grandfather?” James asked with great exasperation.

“Oh that!” Christopher said, looking pleased that he had finally figured out what they were discussing. “Yes of course I remember that. Grace apologized! She feels very badly about all of it,” he stated, apparently expecting that to settle the matter.

“Kit, we are telling you that you can’t be sure of her intentions. She could still be up to something,” Matthew said.

“I am not-” Grace began to retort, but was cut off as Matthew continued, “It’s just that you have to see how it looks, you suddenly being all friendly with someone who is a known manipulator who, for very good reasons, does not get on with your friends?”

“Thomas has Alastair around all the time, and we never used to like him either,” Christopher said stubbornly. “I don’t understand why we can’t also be friends with Grace now too.” Thomas sputtered, clearly uncomfortable having his still-new boyfriend brought into the conversation. Up to this point he had been hovering nervously, eyes darting back and forth as his friends argued. “Grace has apologized,” Christopher continued “She’s here because she wants to pursue science, and seeing as neither of you spend much time down here, you wouldn’t see her much.”

Grace was astounded to see ever-cheerful Christopher looking slightly angry. His friends looked quite surprised as well.

“Also,” Christopher added, “isn’t it rude to be arguing about Grace while she’s still in the room?”

Clearly taken aback, James said, “I didn’t mean to…I – look, Kit, just…” His mouth tightened as he glanced at Grace, then back to Christopher. “Gwyliwch eich cefn. Mae hi'n aml yn dweud celwyddau,” he said in some odd language.

Christopher answered him in the same language, his tone still uncharacteristically sharp. “Hyderaf hi.”

The cousins stared each other down for another moment until an abashed-looking Matthew cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “We’ll go wait upstairs, I think,” he said, tugging James towards the stairs.

They left, and Christopher told Thomas that he’d be cleaned up in a minute if he’d like to head upstairs too. Thomas did so as Christopher capped his open test tubes and turned off the Bunsen burners, face still pensive.

Grace broke the uneasy silence. “I’m sorry to put you in a difficult spot with your friends, Christopher.”

Christopher looked appalled as he replied, “No, I’m sorry Grace. I suppose I never thought to mention that you were helping in the lab now. I didn’t think about how they would react if they just saw you down here.” He sighed. “I’m never sure what to tell which people, or predict how they will react,” he said sadly. “I think they’ll come around though,” he added, brightening. “I’ll talk to them tonight. Maybe if I just tell them about the experiments we’ve been working on, and your organizational system…”

Grace began cleaning her station as well, but she still had a remaining question. “What was it that you and James were speaking? Was it some demon language?” she inquired. She had not yet covered any demon tongues in her training.

Christopher gave a small, surprised laugh. “Not a demon tongue actually – Welsh. Although my father does like to say it’s quite unnatural,” he said, amused.

Grace hadn’t connected the pieces. She had known that James spoke Welsh. It would make sense that his cousins would speak the language as well. “What were you two saying?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Christopher looked somewhat uncomfortable, avoiding her gaze, instead focusing on his notebook. “James warned me to watch my back because you’ve been known to lie,” he said finally. He looked up, now meeting her eyes, and said sincerely, “But I told him that I trust you.”

Grace looked back at him, overwhelmed by his earnestness. “Thank you, Christopher. You don’t know how much that means to me,” she said softly, and her cheeks suddenly felt a bit warm.

“Of course!” Christopher said. “You’re a wonderful lab partner. As good as Henry.”

Coming from Christopher, who greatly admired Henry, Grace recognized that this was indeed high praise.

“I should be leaving now,” he said, grabbing his hat. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Have a good time tonight.”

Christopher smiled at her as he left. Grace wondered what it meant that she felt an odd fluttering in her stomach at that. And as she made her way home, she kept replaying the moment in her mind where Christopher looked earnestly at her with bright violet eyes and told her that he trusted her.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Okay so I know you've done a similar fic with reader defending Jaskier in a bar, however I'm still a sucker for overly protective babies. I've always loved the idea of the smaller person picking a fight and quickly being overtaken by the stronger, and just when the stronger person tries to gloat... tiny one HEADBUTTS THEM IN THE JAW AND KEEPS GOING. You think you wouldnt mind doing another "reader defends Jask's honor" where the reader is 90 lbs of unbridled rage, like an infuriated kitten? 😂

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,461Rating: T for swearing and some mild violenceTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: I will never tire of defending our boy pls/thx.

As days went, this one was about par for the course. You’d been working at the tavern for a couple of months now and it wasn’t unusual for a travelling bard to pop by in the hopes of earning some coin. Some of them were received very well, others not so much. The first time the crowd had turned especially ugly on a performer you’d been horrified and complained to the owner that something had to be done to make sure that at the very least they weren’t pelted with food. The owner had dismissed you, stating they all knew how this worked, bards and patrons alike, and to keep passing out ale and keeping your nose down. You’d done just that but it was wearing on you quickly and you knew you were just one more rude patron from snapping.

You were immediately worried when the bard came through the door. First of all, his clothes made him stand out like a sore thumb. Then there was his somewhat foppish posturing and way of talking that amused and, if you were totally honest, somewhat charmed you but put the rest of the people off. When he performed you could tell he had great talent and hoped that may keep people calm and for the most part it did. Until it didn’t.

“Fuck off!” a voice cried from the crowd. You knew the it well. He was one of the regulars, always an ass to you and the other staff and the first to try and start a fight.

“Oy!” you snapped, “Listen quietly or feel free to leave.”

You couldn’t tell who was more surprised, the bard or the man. It bought you some quiet though and the bard quickly continued performing his song, a bawdy number about a fishmonger’s daughter that you knew you’d have stuck in your head for ages.

“You can pull on this horn!” the same man yelled, gesturing crudely.

“One more outburst and you’re out of here,” you warned. You could feel your face growing hot with ill-concealed rage at his rudeness and at the way the man smirked as though you were a gnat he could just swipe away or ignore. The bard played through your yelling and you prayed his song would end soon. His voice rose in the final notes and a chunk of bread sailed through the air and thwapped him right in the nose.

“Right that’s it,” you heard yourself say as you hurled yourself over the bar and stormed over to the man who’d thrown it. He hardly registered you until you punched his shoulder to get his attention.

“Get out and don’t come back,” you demanded. You knew he was taller than you even sitting but when he stood and hovered a good foot above you, some part of you, some much more logical part knew you should be scared. But that part wasn’t in control right now.

“You need to mind your manners,” he said.

“Hey now you really don’t,” you hear the bard saying but you grip the man’s collar and surprise both of you again when you’re able to wrench him towards the door before he gets his bearings and halts your progress.

“Alright I was trying to be a gentleman but I guess there’s only one way to teach you respect,” the man says and swings a heavy palm towards your face. You dodge it but the attempt cuts through that final strand tethering you to your sanity and you leap at him, fists colliding with nose and chin and chest. He swears and you feel two strong arms capture your shoulders, lifting you off the ground and shaking you like a ragdoll.

“Now,” he says, pausing when you stop swinging at him, “You know bet-”

His words are cut off as you headbutt him in the jaw and he drops you. You fall to the ground in a heap, not sure if the blood running down your forehead is from you or him. He roars and stumbles a bit, disoriented by the attack, and you rise back up and shove him towards the doors. He tries to right himself and swipe for you again but you parry his arm and land a punch in his gut so quickly and so hard you knock the air out of him for a moment.

“Have. Some. Manners. You. Horse’s. Arse,” your words are punctuated by your fists but he finally seizes one of your hands, capturing your tiny fist in his very large one that he begins to twist, sending shooting pain up your arm. It’s reaching the point where you know if he keeps twisting it’s going to break when there is a loud crack and the fist loosens. You pull back and then look up just in time for the man to fall to the ground unconscious. Standing behind him is the bard, his beautiful lute broken in half and dangling from his hands. He looks at you with wide eyes full of surprise and concern and you wipe at your face, blood rubbing off on your hand as you do.

“You’re fired,” you hear the owner call.

“I quit,” you yell back, not sure what you would do but knowing anything would be better than working for someone who stood idly by in the face of bastardry. You nod at the bard and wince when you try to move your wrenched arm. You head out the door, stepping over the felled man as you do. You’ve only just crossed the threshold of the tavern when the bard stops you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyeing your forehead and face and glancing down at your already purpling wrist.

“Oh yeah, occupational hazard and all that,” you answer glibly.

“It was very noble of you to defend me but I fear it’s come at a great cost to your health as well as your livelihood,” he says, gesturing to the tavern.

“It wasn’t right for him to yell those things. You’re a beautiful performer you know. I mean, your music is beautiful,” you say and you hope he doesn’t notice the blush that comes over your face at the slip.

“I’m Jaskier,” he says, extending a hand and then awkwardly retracting it as he realizes your arm is too hurt to shake.

“Y/N,” you say with a little nod, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is there a healer nearby? Somewhere I can take you?” he asks, walking by your side as you begin to set off down the road.

“I’ll deal with it,” you say bravely though you’re trying very hard not to cry from the stinging.

“I have a better idea. I have a companion, he’s currently away but he should be returning by nightfall. He could heal you and then you could travel with us until we find you a new place of employ, one more deserving of you,” Jaskier suggests. From anyone else you would immediately dismiss the offer, believing they were only making it out of obligation, but there is genuine eagerness in Jaskier’s eyes and you can tell that he means it.

“Ok,” you relent. You tell yourself that you’re excited at the prospect of a qualified healer helping you instead of your own fumbling attempts and the opportunity to travel and find better work than you’ve been left with in this tiny shithole town. You tell yourself that it has nothing to do with getting to spend more time with the handsome bard who would break his instrument to help protect you and thought you were deserving of better things. Who even in this brief time you’d known him, made you feel like you should want more for yourself.

“Excellent! Now, first things first,” he says and pulls off his doublet revealing a very fine undershirt below, allowing you to see the shape of his surprisingly muscular frame as he twists the garment in his hands into something more like a rope.

“Now hold still, I will be gentle but it may hurt a little,” he says as he gingerly lifts the arm with the injured wrist and wraps the doublet around it, tying it around your neck.

“What is this then?” you ask, distracted by the sudden closeness of him and the way his arms wrapped around you as he adjusted the makeshift sling.

“That will keep it steady so it doesn’t swing around as we walk. And I think we may want to do that soon because that man won’t be asleep forever and I only had the one lute,” Jaskier explains. You walk together towards the edge of the village and an unknown future that you can already tell will be filled with plenty more excitement.

[ghostmartyr]

Hi Immi. I'm new to the fandom--joined around the drop of ch107. Since then there's been a big buzz about historia, regarding her sexuality, her character regressing and her relationship with ymir. i'd seen snk s2 and honestly never occurred to me to ship yumikuri because i hate ships but being on tumblr, well, it's everywhere. I see people get hate on shipping her with males but i'm not sure where i stand. Is she explicitly lesbian? If not then why is it so bad? Is the tumblr fandom just toxic?

Hi.

Uh.

Hell, dude, you pretty much summarized all the reasons I stopped checking the tags. I’m not exactly in the fandom anymore. I do my stuff, but I am actively avoiding mostly everyone, and that’s just because of the immediate aftermath of the chapter. So uh, welcome, I guess, I’m not here.

I answered–well. No, I covered a bit of what I’m going to go over here in my chapter post, aka the unfun section of it. Making this a bit of a rehash, but most things I type are anyway.

The most obvious thing is that people should not be getting hate. That is a general statement, disconnected from anything that’s going on. It is applicable in every fandom, in every situation. Even in the cases where someone is doing something that poses a very real danger, the solution is not sending hate. Sending hate is exactly what it sounds like, and people should behave themselves better.

Where you end up standing on any of this does not make the behavior magically okay.

And again, I basically left the fandom. I have no idea what’s going on, and frankly, I do not want to, so none of this is based on anything that’s happened in the past three weeks.

My perspective on fiction is that it is entirely selfish. People want what they want from it. While I don’t like most of what other people like, the fact that they’re capable of enjoying things should be celebrated. Go them.

That doesn’t mean I think stories are beyond reproach, or what happens in fiction can’t be offensive or damaging.

Fandom is not the same as canon. A personal pet project is very different from something being consumed by millions of people. Fandom currently has a very black and white style of thinking, and so it neglects that difference.

For an easy and relevant example, Kurt and Rachel from Glee getting it on in a fanfic is not equal to it happening in the show. One is someone’s random fantasy, the other, unless it’s handled with the kind of respect Glee has never dealt in, is going to be very inflammatory.

(See: Blaine and Rachel (for different–-but still relevant!-–reasons))

A lot of people do not agree that the difference between fanon and canon is relevant to some of the things people end up enjoying. The reason being that stories never feel that different to the individual experiencing them. Who creates it, or how wide its reach is, is not automatically something that matters to the emotional experience. It will hurt in roughly the same way, so often the argument that one is excusable and the other isn’t is done before it starts.

I’m meandering a little because I do not really know how to handle this delicately. So far this is all just foundational. stuff.

I guess I’ll go with blunt.

yumikuri is a canon romantic bond. Ymir is implied to be a lesbian because one character says she looks like one, Historia is a complete blank slate outside of that relationship because Ymir is her sole love interest.

The status of Historia’s sexuality is that she is romantically interested in Ymir, a girl. That is the entire sum of what the manga’s covered.

107 heavily indicates that Historia is coerced into having sex.

That should never have opened up a discussion into what her sexuality is. Someone being forced into sexual intercourse is indicative of nothing except that they are being forced into it. That is the exact opposite of desire.

Yet it opened the door to people reminding everyone that it is absolutely okay for a character to be bisexual.

That is a true statement.

(Editing in emphasis, because it really is.)

I do not know how to adequately describe why the context makes that statement so tone deaf and infuriating.

The manga has been running for almost ten years. In that time, there has been no indication of Historia having interest in anyone outside of Ymir, a girl. That could cover a lot of different sexualities, and there’s nothing wrong with someone wanting any of them.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t incredibly insulting ways of going about introducing them.

Historia’s first major appearance after her girlfriend is killed off-screen (if you believe that, which all but three people reading this and the person writing this do) is all about forcing her to fuck a guy to make babies.

Even in some hypothetical where her pregnancy is the result of a happy relationship, it would be insulting. As far as we know, it isn’t, so we are dealing with the full brunt of how disrespectful that summation is.

There is this common thing that happens in stories, where you have the gay relationship, one dies, the other lives on to go have a happy life with someone of the opposite sex. The subtext is that this weird one-off sexual thing may have happened, but don’t worry, they’re still normal.

I don’t know how to say that convincingly, because it’s a subtext that I’ve picked up on throughout hundreds of different stories. I don’t know how to cram that history into one post.

Girls liking girls is seen as an aberration, even in stories about liking girls. The relationship will be an exception. The more femme character won’t really like girls, just this one. The concept of a girl liking another girl as a normal facet of her sexuality, which exists outside this relationship, is commonly disregarded, or given to the non-POV partner.

This should be a problem that it’s easy to agree on. Lesbians like girls as a rule. Bisexuals like girls as a rule. Not exclusively, but Likes Girls is still very much a part of the identity (unless we get into discussions of bi covering multiple genders but not necessarily binary ones).

Then there’s fandom.

I can’t count the number of times I have seen the argument that Historia only sees Ymir as a friend. I have been invested in her character and that relationship for five years. Barring the last month, which I don’t want to know about, probably at least once a week, someone would make the case that okay, maybe Ymir likes Historia, but Historia doesn’t like her back.

Many, many times before I left the tags last month, people were saying that Historia’s pregnancy isn’t an LGBT issue, because Historia’s interest in Ymir was never canon.

I get twitchy when people are staunch supporters of her being bisexual. Because as much as I want to trust people, and as much as I know that every marginalized identity is desperate for scraps, the conversation about Historia has always felt like, “it’s important to remember you can’t prove she doesn’t like men.”

When it’s not full on, “it’s important to remember her liking a girl is in your imagination.”

Because she’s the pretty one in the girl on girl couple.

I want her to be gay or ace. Nothing disproves that, but I feel like an idiot for wanting that, because the classically pretty one isn’t going to be a lesbian, and years of consuming anime and manga should have taught me that. Beyond the first sentence, none of that perspective is particularly healthy.

Queer fandom can be really complicated to navigate, because some of the things people want to see–-which are fundamental to their identities, and that’s why they want to see them–-run exactly counter to what other people want to see.

There’s a post from Yuri on Ice fandom that I think encapsulates this. I don’t know the background, or what has been shouted back and forth since I saw it, but here’s the gist. Someone suggests that one of the figure skating gays could be ace. Dozens of people go, “bad post op,” and it’s treated humorously.

Asexual representation sucks. An episode of House, noteworthy for using the word and having someone quote the statistic occurrence of asexuality, ends with one half of an asexual couple having a hormone imbalance, and the other lying about her interest in sex so she could date him.

Yeah.

Gay guys also have a hard time with their sexuality being policed. Holding hands is okay (sometimes), but kissing? Sex? The dirty homosexuals are depraved for enjoying such things. Gay women can have degrading sex because it’s hot.

People want their identities respected.

That is not an unreasonable thing.

What tends to happen on Tumblr is that people forget that they aren’t the only ones being treated like crap. There are layers of pain and anger they bring to every fight, and over and over again, people who should know what that pain is like, and help each other through it, sharpen theirs until they can use it to chop off someone’s head.

107 is insulting in a lot of ways. The aftermath was worse for me. From what little I saw, many people were very eager to say that the part where a queer woman was dealing with a coercive pregnancy shouldn’t be judged for the queer part. Because there are people issues, like war and tragedy, and then social justice issues, which aren’t about people. They don’t really matter in a war story with internment camps and genocide.

I’m being glib, but… that’s what it felt like. That’s what a lot of people I liked shrugged and agreed with.

I want Historia to be a lesbian (or ace), but for right now, we do know she’s queer. That is a part of her character, and it is one that people have been talking over for years. Having post after post reminding everyone that her being queer does not matter to the story? That her being queer is not a lens worthy of being looked through when it’s clearly not about that?

I don’t agree with… basically any of the fandom behavior I’ve seen touching this. I think people should behave themselves better, and treat each other more kindly, and pain is no excuse for bleeding all over everyone.

But where that pain comes from has been repeatedly dismissed, and where it comes from is not insignificant, no matter what route you want canon to go.

…And as far as Historia’s character goes, this is a regression, and the writing should be ashamed of itself. It violates the themes of her arc with such direct intent that it’s painfully easy to believe there’s a twist to it, but for now it’s just infuriating, because the girl who fights fate has been made its tool, and Ymir, aka her love interest, is very relevant to the whole arc where we covered this. 107 is bad and should feel bad, and I am extremely not happy that I think that is exactly the feeling I am intended to have, because being emotionally manipulated is much more annoying when it works.

Hopefully that gives your questions an answer.

[barbecuedphoenix]

Hello! I just need to say I LOVE your writing, omg I read and re-read your stuff AT LEAST once a week, seriously, you're a genius *kisses your face*. This is not really a request, just an IDEA for you to think about, but have you thought of how would be the first time Nevra drank Guardienne's blood? Maybe during sex, or before their first time...? I'm just curious to know what you think of his drinking habits if he were in a relationship with her.

*She reaches forward togently cup your cheek, her thumb tracing feather-light crescents around thepoint of your cheekbone that sends sparks dancing, waves of fire rolling across your skin withevery sly, knowing stroke*

You flatter me too much,my dear. ;)

Ahem. To answer your question, Anon., I do have a few ideas on what blood-feedingentails for Nevra. Because it’s a pretty fascinating subject for an aspiringbiologist. And you can never skip out on blood-feeding with a vampire beau. ;)

But first, I’ll have toseparate what’s implied in canon with, well, my headcanon. Brace yourself for adouble-serving of analysis and imagination. Plus science. Because there’salways science involved when talking about vampires. ^_^    

Warning: Not NSFW… but it still has a lot of innuendo. Don’t try reading thisout-loud if you’re babysitting. Not even if the kid in question likes Twilight.

What does blood-drinking mean to him? (CanonAnalysis)

Seeing that Nevra is quick to offer a bite (as a joke or agenuine pick-up line) in several episodes, and given that he does drink fromladies he isn’t dating (i.e. that awkward moment in Episode 10), my impressionis that blood-drinking is more a casual activity for Nevra than a seriouscommunion.  

The impetus also seems to be more sexual than nutritive: hedefinitely seems to prefer drinking from young ladies, instead of—shall wesay—more robust sources of blood plasma. Like young men of Valkyon’s size. (Sorry,fans. But that’s why we have headcanons.) Furthermore, Nevra has alreadymentioned in Episode 8 that it’s ‘fun’, which lends more credence to him seeingblood-drinking as a form of foreplay.  

He’s clearly unabashed about his appetite for blood, from theblasé way he shrugs off criticism, jokes, and put-downs in Episodes 10, 4, and 8 respectively. This can be due to his supreme confidence in himself… and/or his knowledge of how vampires are walkingsexual fantasies in human literature (see episode 6). But from the number ofdinner/pantry jokes he makes, I’m willing believe that– on some level– Nevrabelieves blood-drinking increases his mystique among non-vampires. Sorry,buddy… but vampires are still a niche fad in this world

It’s unknown how necessary blood-drinking is to his survival,or what benefits it gives him. But it definitely isn’t the sole component ofhis diet: Nevra can consume regularfood (see episode 8), and is partial towards certain treats like red wine andthe oh-so-appropriate blue steaks (i.e. extremely raw steaks). Personally, Isupport the idea of him having a varied, omnivorous diet (sacrilege for vampirefans, I know) because blood in itself—per volume—is not nutritious at all:mainly composed of water, protein, and salt, with some iron and trace lipidsfrom red blood cells, and a very light sprinkling of sugars and importantminerals dissolved throughout. In fact, all full-time sanguivores—i.e.blood-drinkers—in nature are on the tiny side by necessity, and still need toconsume huge quantities of blood relative to their body weight just to avoidstarvation; vampire bats, for instance, need to drink half their body weight inblood per meal. So biologically-speaking, it’s just more feasible for Nevra toeat solid meat and other concentrated sources of carbohydrates, fats, vitamins,etc. (Besides… can you imagine how many people each day have to ‘donate’ forhis most basic rations if blood is all he consumes? Between him and Karenn,they’ll drain El dry. That won’t look good for the Guard. >_>)

Consent is necessary in Nevra’s book (see Episode 10), and heaccepts refusals (and borderline insults) with aplomb. So my guess is thatblood-drinking is still considered an intimate act, despite Nevra’s ‘swinger’approach to it. And that he’s aware it isn’t the most mainstream/popular/politesexual kink in El (check Ezarel’s ire in Episode 10 on him ‘chewing on’ one ofhis alchemists). That doesn’t mean he won’t stop trying though…

Blood doesn’t turn him on every single time. In fact, Nevra compartmentalizeshis reactions to it depending on the situation. For instance, if blood isspilled as a field injury, he jumps straight into Shadow Dad! Mode (see episode6), and all sexy/food-related thoughts are forgotten. This ability to switchmindsets on a dime indicates excellent self-control… and could be an adaptationto working with non-vampires who may get uneasy at spilling blood in front ofhim. Nevra even makes a joke in episode 8 (if you take him to the kitchen) thathe’s offended that the MC thinks of him as a ‘bloodthirsty beast’.

The effects of blood-drinking? (Canon Analysis)

According to one discussion in Episode 10, you can ‘turn’ into a vampire, but having avampire feed from you isn’t what causes it (at least, not on its own). So untilmore information comes to light, blood-drinking mostly seems like a funindulgence for Nevra, with no real long term consequences.

Nevra is implied to have the capacity to drink quite a bit of blood day after day, ifValkyon’s deadpan remark in Episode 4 is anything to go by. So anemia and even shock would be the most common health risks involved inblood-drinking besides infection (unsurprisingly). How much Nevra can drink ina single sitting is still up to debate, but he does have his principles andisn’t likely to drain partners to the point of shock. How else did he gainsuch a wide net of… voluntary donors?

His vampiric skills involved withblood-drinking? (Headcanon)

Like allvampires, he’s gifted with an extremely nimble tongue… which he uses to drink andpurr like a cat, never wasting a drop of blood and being finicky in lickinghis lips and fingers clean. And his partner’s skin, of course. Wheneverpossible, Nevra also avoids staining the bedsheets and his or his partner’sclothes; only amateurs are thatsloppy.

His nose isn’tjust good for sniffing out blood and fear from a quarter-mile away: theskin on the underside of his nose is highly thermosensitive (just like avampire bat), which allows him track rich arteries under the skin forprecision-bites, even in pitch darkness. His lips and fingertips too are packedwith biological thermo-sensors (not quite like a vampire bat). You cancompletely blindfold him, and he stillwon’t miss your carotid artery.    

Good news: his bites don’t hurt. This is because the razor-sharppoints of his fangs are the envy of swordsmiths and surgeons. Not to mentionthat they’re coated in a natural anesthetic compound found in his saliva. (Likevampire bats; how else do they sneak up on their prey and dine on them for half-an-hourwithout waking them up?) At most, if he’s really eager and/or careless thatnight, you’ll feel two tiny pricks where his mouth meets your skin. Rightbefore he distracts you with all the other things he’s doing.

The bad news: there are also natural anticoagulants in hissaliva that prevent blood from clotting easily. (How else can his people get a long drink?) So the only way to staunch thebleeding from his bite is to clean and bandage the wound, maybe tie atourniquet if it’s a deep one, then wait it out. Fortunately, he also offers thisservice as a courtesy.

Nevra has an uncanny way of estimating his partner’s bodyweight, and then approximating how much blood he can afford to drink from them withoutrisking shock. Sans instruments. Just try lying about your weight to him. Hehas an excellent eye for volumetric amounts and measurements, honed byexperience.

His sense oftaste is actually very poor—an adaptation among vampires to cope with theirpeculiar drink of choice–, so the bracing iron taste of fresh blood doesn’tmake a difference to him. As do many foods, though he won’t admit this toothers. (So if there’s any poison in his food or drink, he has to do his bestto sniff them out instead. And bet on his robust immune system to buy him enoughtime to reach his cache of antidotes.)

He has abody built for the bedroom, uh, I mean blood consumption: his liver cancope with very high concentrations of iron, and the lining of his stomachabsorbs excess water rapidly. His immune system also lends some credence to thelegends of ‘immortal’ vampires: allowing him to resist most common diseases,and rally quickly from pathogens in infected blood.      

How does he generally treat his partners whendrinking from them? (Headcanon)

I see blood-drinking as a fringe kink, fetish, and longtime socialpractice that Nevra’s people have. It combines food-play with sex, formalizesan intimate bond between individuals, and is even used as a form oftreatment in traditional medicine. (Why pointed fangs and an appetite for bloodbecame hereditary traits suggests some strong evolutionary benefits…but that’s for another day.) But Nevra, being a modern young vampire, prefersto apply blood-drinking as a form of tasty foreplay, to be carried outinside or outside the bedroom, with casual or serious partners. Drinking during sex though is what automatically flipshis high-voltage switch and unleashes the fireworks. From that point, it’s aone-way ticket to a wild night. Expect soreness and a tactical scarf the nextmorning.  

The mood to drink is never far from his mind once he startsgetting cozy with his partner, and Nevra is never shy about suggesting itthrough heavy innuendo, slow kisses that nibble lightly at their inner wrist orneck, or merely smiling and posing a two-word question that leaves no doubt onwhat he wants. Still, winning consent is a matter of honor for him, and henever tries to surprise partners with a bite, even if he has fed from them before.If they’re not keen on the idea at the moment, he may pout and try to cajolethem, but will ultimately accept their refusal.

Location is key: some arteries are in patently sexier placesthan others. Drinking from the wrist is the most chaste by far, whereasdrinking from the neck is getting pretty heavy (but still possible to dooutside the bedroom). And drinking from the inside of the thigh is savedstrictly for behind closed doors. Depending on Nevra’s mood, the state ofhis partner’s skin at that location (some places might still be healing fromprior bites), and/or the need to look halfway decent in public, he’ll switchbetween different areas.  

No matter his partner’s species, Nevra aims to keepblood-drinking safe, health-wise, as a point of pride and courtesy. (He of allpeople knows the risks involved with infection, blood-transmitted diseases,tissue scarring, anemia, and shock from blood loss.) So he’ll limit himself ifhis partner is on the petite side, and always spaces out feedings until they’rein optimal health again. And he’ll never so much as nip at his partner if they’rerecovering from an injury, are sick, or are susceptible to the health risksinvolved in opening a vein. Hearing that his partner consulted a doctor right aftertheir bedroom shenanigans will embarrass Nevra to no end. He is looking after them, he swears!  

He never goes anywhere without keeping one black silkhandkerchief in his pocket, just large enough to wrap around a neck or sveltethigh that’s been offered to him. Staunching the bleeding and covering up themarks of his teeth is what he considers his obligation, and he’ll be happy tolet partners keep the handkerchief afterwards; he’s a gentleman, after all.As a result, Nevra is on first-name basis with city tailors, mercers, andlaunderers from all the silk handkerchiefs he orders and washes—in bulk– everyfew months. Which he then keeps folded in one drawer of his bedside table. Forconvenient access.

Contrary to expectations, Nevra is automatically turned-offif partners tease him by flaunting fresh papercuts and knife-nicks, evenaccidental. In his book, it’s a crass way to snag his attention (not to mentionidiotic, from the infections they’re risking), so he’ll at most lecture themand bandage those cuts straightaway. Part of the allure in blood lies in itsmystery after all, flowing secret under the skin until he makes the firstpierce. He’s a bloodthirsty beast only some nights in the bedroom, thank you.

How does he behave if drinking from theGuardian for the first time? (Headcanon)

For all hisjokes, Nevra is very aware that this is a gesture of trust, especiallyfrom a non-vampire and a novice who isn’t fully familiar with the practice. Sohe makes a point to be reassuring, aiming to keep the experience comfortable,sensual, and enjoyable for both parties (even if he’s the only one who’ll befeeding). Because if he likes them enough… he’ll want them to return to offerhim a ‘second serving’.  

A privatelocation is really all he needs because this is the closest thing to aquickie that he can offer. But if there’s someone he’s looking to impress,he’ll take them straight to his room (prepped beforehand) where they can both befully comfortable, and he’ll be able to wash clean the bites. And where they’ll be free to indulge themselves a little more, if there’s time…

As with allpartners, he is very sensual whenfeeding, clasping the Guardian full against him and letting his hands wander. Teasingtheir skin first with kisses that grow increasingly less chaste, warming up hispartner in his arms while he tests out the best places to make an ideal bite. Fora first-timer, he’ll double this ‘warm up’ period until he’s absolutely surethat his partner is comfortable. And as turned-on as he is.

Just like anydentist, surgeon, or physician armed with a needle, Nevra never warns partnerswhen it’s actually time for him to make that bite: anticipation will only makethem anxious (and kill the mood). So the Guardian will still be lolling aroundin his arms and under the prints of his mouth, oblivious to what’s happening, until they suddenly feel that warm welling of their blood right where his mouthis fused determinedly against their skin. And when they freeze up, he’ll workto reassure them with his hands, his embrace, the pressure of his lips, and oneor two tactical noises of satisfaction, encouraging them (wordlessly) to relaxand enjoy the feel of his body against theirs. And not think too hard aboutthis moment.

For thisoccasion, he’ll keep the feeding light and neat, drinking from wrist or neckonly. After he staunches the bleeding with his ever-ready handkerchief, he’llpress a teasing kiss against the fabric right where his bite is, determined tomake the Guardian blush. And he’ll insist that they ‘hold onto thehandkerchief’, to not worry about returning it to him; it’s a standard gestureof magnanimity on his part, but for a first-timer, it’s also a way to give thema memento of this moment. To let them mull over what they did enjoy, andhopefully, return to him for a reprise…

If theGuardian is particularly concerned, he’ll oblige to answer what questions they have about health and sanitary concerns… as well as rumors they mighthave heard about vampires. But frankly, only the last part is fun for Nevra;giving medical explanations is always a tedious chore for him, so what answershe does offer are kept simple and reassuring. All they really need to know isthat he knows what he’s doing; they can trust him. He’s been doing this fora long while.

How does he treat longtime partners whom hedrinks from? (Headcanon)

Although infamousknown for biting casually, Nevra will restrict himself to drinking only fromhis partner if seriously involved with them. Feeding from others at this pointis akin to getting frisky with them, and thus putting one foot on the line ofinfidelity. For all his bad jokes and playboy reputation, Nevra’spartner is his very first preference for sharing such an intimate moment. Andif they’re really not in the mood to be nibbled at, he feels put-out.

They’ll start receiving naughty gifts… and not the expected type either. He’ll buythem scarves. Ascots. Satin opera gloves. Plus a healthy supply of dark silkhandkerchiefs for them to keep in their room, chokers and thigh garters made ofsatin or black lace, and velvet wrist corsages each pinned with a singleblood-red rose. All to cover up the bite-marks he left on their skin as theyheal… and remind him pleasantly of ‘what he did’ at their last encounterwhenever he sees them. When they’re alone, Nevra likes to slip these tacticalgifts an inch or two lower just to peek at, stroke, or kiss the marks he left behindthe other night. What a horny bastard.

He’ll be more open to gentle, affectionate blood-feedings.And if he’s having a rotten day, and his partner is the one who offers him a drink,his mood is guaranteed to shoot up by several notches. For once, he won’t dropsly suggestions to continue to the bedroom immediately, instead being perfectlyhappy to cuddle or spoon them in silence wherever they are. A blood-feeding maybe a sexually-charged gesture, but it can become an act of solace and caring ifoffered by a partner he trusts. One he won’t forget for a while.

He certainly won’t say no to his partner bitinghim back, even if their teeth are flatter and can’t (or won’t) pierce his skin; it’s the sensation that counts. And he himself is very sensitive around the crook of his neck. Still, Nevra prefersto do most of the biting—to draw blood or simply to tease. He has the right teeth, and knows how to be the boss use them for maximal mutual pleasure. 

For a darker take on how Nevra might react to blood spilled on the battlefield, check out this pure headcanon.