#PLEASE BUY ME A POMEGRANATE OKAY???

[wellitseugi]

I need an emoji of pomegranate rn (pomegranate is so me coded lmao)

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikemen Sengoku (JP)

Kicho's Main Story Chapter 2 Part 1

Please do not repost. Expect mistakes.

Translation under the cut.

After Kicho left, another subordinate came to show me my room.

(Ugh, I'm so tired.)

As soon as I entered, I took advantage of the room's privacy to lie down on the tatami mats and relax my tense and stiff body.

(To think he almost allowed me to go to his business meeting一Ugh! I screwed up pretty hard.)

(How many guns did he buy? What is he going to procure next? That's the kind of information we need.)

I remember Mitsuhide saying I should be more careful acting like a spy.

(To avoid failing, don't step in recklessly, and don't act on your emotions.)

(I've broken it pretty badly, but I got a small glimpse of Kicho's goal.)

------------Flashback------------

Mai: “I think conflicts will happen if more people get their hands on weapons.”

Kicho: “That is my goal.”

Kicho: “I’ll incite the forces of various regions and disturb Japan. This trading post is for that purpose.”

Mai: “A lot of people are going to die.”

Kicho: “…………..”

Kicho: “It’s a necessary sacrifice.”

---------Flashback Ends---------

After hearing his words, it sounded like his goal was not to defeat the Oda forces.

He wanted something much bigger than that, something that would disrupt the very country we were living in.

(One other thing that bothered me was the pause he made.)

(I wonder what he was thinking right before he said it was a necessary sacrifice.)

(If I could just talk to him a little and know everything about him, I wouldn’t have a hard time right now.)

Mai: "Alright!"

I sat up and rubbed my sore calf lightly under my kimono.

(Yeah, I can still move. I need to start doing my chores.)

Maid: "Are you sure you're okay?"

Mai: "Yes, of course. Sitting still actually makes me feel restless."

Maid: "Really? Well, then, I'll leave it to you."

Maid: "Lord Kicho is out of the house right now, and we don't have any visitors, so I wanted to clean up the furnishings."

Mai: "Okay! Leave it to me."

As I left the room, I called out to a maid passing by and got a job.

(Perfect. Now, I look like a maid.)

(After what happened earlier, it's probably best not to approach Kicho again today.)

(Good thing he's not here right now.)

And so I began to explore the trading post, pretending to be a maid working hard at cleaning.

(This one looks really expensive.)

I lightly tap a finely decorated vase in the hallway with a duster.

Like the guest room, the inside of the hall was furnished with luxurious-looking furniture that was probably imported abroad.

(The maid already said it, but there’s almost no dust on the floor. I guess it's cleaned every day.)

(Like Kicho, this trading house doesn't have any openings at all.)

(That means the important documents are kept in a safe place. For example一)

???: "Miss, that's dangerous."

Mai: "-----!"

(W-Who is it!?)

???: "I'm sorry. It wasn't nice of me to call you out so suddenly."

???: "You were preoccupied, so I got curious."

Mai: "You got curious?"

???: "Yes. Also, that vase is pretty expensive as far as the decoration goes."

???: "I've never seen someone hit it so hard like that with a duster."

Mai: "I-I'm sorry!"

(I didn't realize I was putting too much force on it.)

(I almost left this trading house because of this damn vase.)

Mai: "Um, thank you for the warning."

After thanking him, I look up at the man in front of me again.

He has brown skin and magnificent silver hair, giving him a unique air different from Kicho's.

His red eyes, reminding me of a pomegranate, are faintly narrowed.

Shojumaru: "Sorry for the late introduction. I'm Shojumaru."

Shojumaru: "I'm a trader. I often come here."

Mai: "I see. My name is Mai, and I got here today for my apprenticeship."

Shojumaru: "Lady Mai, huh? And what are you doing now?"

Mai: "Well, as you can see, I'm cleaning."

Shojumaru: "I didn't mean that."

Shojumaru: "You were thinking pretty hard about something, so I thought maybe you have something else you want to do."

Mai: "------!"

Shojumaru's words almost made my face scrunch up.

Somehow holding back, I pulled the hand holding the duster in front of my chest.

Mai: "I was just worried I'd get lost here."

Mai: "I was trying to remember the route I took so that I could at least return to my room properly."

Shojumaru: "I see."

Shojumaru: "As I said before, I often come here, so if you have any questions, just ask."

Mai: "Okay, thank you!"

(He's such a nice guy.)

I got a little defensive, but all he just wanted to do was to make sure I didn't drop the vase.

Maybe he just asked the question simply out of concern.

Mai: "By the way, are you here for some business?"

Mai: "If you want to see Kicho, he went to the port a while ago."

Shojumaru: "Port?"

He asked me curiously.

Mai: "Yes. So, if you're looking for Kicho一"

Kicho: "I'm listening."

Mai: "That's right. Wait, what!?"

I took a step back, startled by Kicho standing beside me.

Mai: "Are you done with your work?"

Kicho: "No, it got pushed back to a later date. Apparently, the captain is not feeling well."

Mai: "I see."

Kicho: "Shojumaru. If you need me, I'll be in my room."

Shojumaru: "No, it's okay. I'm just here to pick up something."

Shojumaru: "More importantly, Lady Mai there seemed to have something to say."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "Oh, what is it?

Mai: "No. I didn't一"

Shojumaru: "She's worried that she might get lost because this place is too big."

(Shojumaru!?)

Still flustered by what was happening, I watched on, not wanting to interrupt, as Kicho nodded in agreement.

Kicho: "I see. Then, Mai."

Mai: "Yes?"

Kicho: "Follow me. I'll show you around."

Mai: "You don't need to do that! I'll just ask the other maids."

(I just decided earlier that I shouldn't approach him.)

Shojumaru: "Lady Mai, I don't think you need to hold back."

Shojumaru: "This is also a job of the head of this place. Right?"

Kicho: "Yeah. You also need to keep this information in your head."

Mai: "I guess."

(I can't say really say no. I never expected he'd care like this.)

Shojumaru: "Good luck with your work."

After Shojumaru left, I followed Kicho as he showed me around the trading post.

Kicho: "That's all for the first floor."

Kicho: "There are a few rooms for visitors, but for the most part, they are reserved for those who work in this building."

Kicho: "You will be using them every day. Remember that."

Mai: "I understand. Still, this place is very spacious."

Using a piece of paper and a brush that Kicho gave me, I jotted down the floor plan of the building.

(This is the kitchen, and this is the room I was shown earlier.)

(From there, down the hallway, near the doorway, is the guest room, and further back is the hall.)

Mai: "Oh..."

(I need to put some ink on this.)

(Using a brush as a writing tool is pretty inconvenient.)

I dipped the tip of the brush into a small portable inkstone and slid the brush onto the paper again while Kicho stared at me as I repeated this several times.

Mai: "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Kicho: "It's okay. Have you never used a brush that much?"

Mai: "Yes. I've been in that kind of environment all my life."

Mai: "If only there was a brush that never ran out of ink, it would be useful in this situation."

Kicho: "You're right. If I had a ballpoint pen right now, I'd lend it to you."

(What?)

My hand stopped after hearing something unexpected.

(What did he just say?)

I was wondering if I should mention it, but before I could, he spoke up.

Kicho: "By the way, Mai."

Mai: "Y-Yes. What is it?"

Kicho: "Shojumaru told me earlier that you were cleaning up."

Kicho: "I already told you that you don't have to do anything today. Why were you wandering around the building?"

Mai: "That's..."

Mai: "I was rude to you earlier. I didn't want you to fire me, so I decided to help."

Kicho: "You already said that earlier. Does it bother you that much?"

Mai: "Yes. If I get kicked out on my first day, I don't know how to face everyone back home."

Mai: "Well, going home might not be the right way to describe it."

Kicho: "..............."

Kicho nodded a little, perhaps satisfied with my response, and started walking down the hallway again.

I took it as a sign that the tour was back on track and followed him.

When we reached the end of the second floor without any particular conversation, he stopped.

Kicho: "The second floor is basically used for guests, document storage, etc."

Kicho: "I'll skip this part since you won't be using it much, but just keep this in mind."

Mai: "Okay. What about this room?"

Kicho: "This is my room. Never enter it for any reason."

With that, he put the key into the door’s keyhole and turned it firmly.

Kicho: "Wait here for a moment."

(So this is his room. There are no guards, but it's always locked.)

(I bet there are tons of important things in there.)

(I'm curious, but I can't get near it.)

Is it because of the lock or my feelings?

The door, supposed to be only one wooden board, looked like a thick iron plate, keeping me away.

I patiently waited as I was told, hearing only small noises, until Kicho came out of the room holding a small wooden box.

Kicho: "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Mai: "No, it's okay. What's that?"

Kicho: "It's called perfume. It's a fragrance you can put on yourself by spraying the liquid inside."

Kicho: "I prepared it as a gift for you."

(Perfume, huh?)

(This must be expensive in this era. So why the hell would he give me this?)

He didn't even comment on my surprised expression as he handed me the box, which I opened at his urging gaze.

Mai: "Oh..."

Immediately, an elegant and distinctive sweet aroma wafted through the air.

Kicho: "It's an item made abroad. In some places, the fragrance is considered part of one's appearance."

Kicho: "It's important to make a good impression, so I always order everyone to wear this when dealing with VIPs."

(It's amazing they made this thing at this time.)

Mai: "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Kicho: "Yeah. Well, this is the end of the tour."

Kicho: "This time, you can rest in your room."

Kicho only said that and walked away in response to the voice of his subordinate who called him.

That evening

After eating my dinner, I returned to my room and lay on the futon.

Mai: *sigh*

Mai: "Finally, it's night."

I didn't know how this day would end, but I'm glad I completed my first day as a spy.

(Meeting Shojumaru and learning about the layout of this place was nice.)

(Although I think Kicho has become even more mysterious.)

------------Flashback------------

Mai: "If only there was a brush that never ran out of ink, it would be useful in this situation."

Kicho: "You're right. If I had a ballpoint pen right now, I'd lend it to you."

---------Flashback Ends---------

(I'm pretty sure I heard him say "ballpoint pen" at that time.)

(But there's no way he could've known that.)

I gently took out the handkerchief I tucked away in my pocket.

I left my bag and other stuff behind to avoid suspicions, but somehow I felt uneasy about that, so I brought this one thing.

Unlike the towels of this era, this handkerchief has a pleasantly fluffy feel to it.

(I probably just imagined it because I was feeling nostalgic.)

Mai: "I need to pull myself together."

I said it aloud to encourage myself and sat up, reaching for the small perfume Kicho gave me.

The slightly cloudy-colored glass bottle with a unique design showed it had crossed a distant sea to get here.

(I feel like I don't fit in here.)

When I took the lid off and lightly dabbed it on my handkerchief一

Clack!

Mai: "-----!"

I opened the door a little to peek at the end of the dimly lit corridor and saw a white cloth with a fuzzy outline fluttering.

(Kicho? What's he doing here at this hour?)

(I might be able to get some information. I need to follow him!)

Mai: "H-Huh?"

I followed Kicho, keeping my distance, as he walked out of the building and toward the town.

(Damn it, I lost him.)

(Anyway, I should go home一Hm?)

(I think I just heard something.)

I listened carefully and heard voices talking from around the corner.

Man's voice 1: "Three Matchlocks. I'll pay you in advance."

Man's voice 2: "Yeah, okay. Then, tomorrow morning."

(Matchlock? Wait, that's a type of gun!)

(So, they're talking about weapons?)

I tried to step toward the voices to listen a little more carefully, but一

???: "Mai."

Mai: "Mhmp!?"

Previous Chapter╏Chapter 2 (His POV)╏Next Chapter

[cynthiav06]

I have had up to here with people blaming Percy for absolutely no reason. How the hell is any of it his fault? Percy was all for saving Nico from the jar and agreed to help immediately. Don't spread misinformation. That scene and all scenes, including Nico's situations, involved Percy agreeing and worrying each time. Here are a few of those scenes. It's not all there's more, but these are the key ones:

Not the part about Sammy – that was still too painful to say out loud – but she told them about Gaia’s offer of a fake life, and the goddess’s claim that she’d captured her brother, Nico. Hazel didn’t want to keep that to herself. She was afraid the despair would overwhelm her. Percy rubbed his shoulders. His lips were blue. ‘You – you saved me, Hazel. We’ll figure out what happened to Nico, I promise.’ (Son of Neptune, Chapter 41)

I think my dad is turning a blind eye. I think – I think he wants me to find Nico.’ ‘We’ll find your brother,’ Percy promised. ‘As soon as the ship gets here, we’ll sail for Rome.’ (Son of Neptune, Chapter 52)

Huddled next to it was a dejected looking boy in tattered jeans, a black shirt, and an old aviator jacket. On his right hand, a silver skull ring glittered. “Nico,” Percy called. But the son of Hades couldn’t hear him. The container was completely sealed. The air was turning poisonous. Nico’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He appeared to be meditating. His face was pale, and thinner than Percy remembered (…) “Nico,” Percy said, “where is this place? We’ll save you.…” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 13)

“He disappeared.” Hazel moistened her lips. “I’m afraid…I’m not sure, but I think something’s happened to him.” “We’ll look for him,” Percy promised. “We have to find the Doors of Death anyway.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 3)

Percy pointed at Piper’s dagger. “Tiberinus said you could find Nico’s location…you know, with that.” Piper bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was check Katoptris for more terrifying images. “I’ve tried,” she said. “The dagger doesn’t always show what I want to see. In fact, it hardly ever does.” “Please,” Percy said. “Try again.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 41)

He told them about his dream—the twin giants planning a reception for them in an underground parking lot with rocket launchers; Nico di Angelo trapped in a bronze jar, slowly dying from asphyxiation with pomegranate seeds at his feet. Hazel choked back a sob. (Mark of Athena, Chapter 14)

Piper dropped the blade. “What’s wrong?” Jason asked. “It was showing us something.” Piper felt like the boat was back on the ocean, rocking under her feet. “We can’t go there.” Percy frowned. “Piper, Nico is dying. We’ve got to find him. Not to mention, Rome is about to get destroyed.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 41)

“We should wait for the others,” she said. “Hazel, Frank, and Leo should be back soon.” “We can’t wait,” Percy insisted. (Mark of Athena, Chapter 41)

The vision zoomed in again. Inside the jar, Nico di Angelo was curled in a ball, no longer moving, all the pomegranate seeds eaten. “We’re too late,” Jason said. “No,” Percy said. “No, I can’t believe that. Maybe he’s gone into a deeper trance to buy time. We have to hurry.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 41)

Otis trudged over to the dais, stopping occasionally to do a plié. He knocked over the jar, the lid popped off, and Nico di Angelo spilled out. The sight of his deathly pale face and too-skinny frame made Percy’s heart stop. Percy couldn’t tell whether he was alive or dead. He wanted to rush over and check, but Ephialtes stood in his way. (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

At Otis’s feet, Nico shuddered. Percy felt like a hellhound hamster wheel somewhere in his chest had started moving again. At least Nico was alive. (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

Jason and Piper closed ranks on either side of Percy (…)“We’re here,” Percy said, which sounded kind of obvious once he had said it. “Let our friend go.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

“Okay.” Percy decided not to comment on the Hawaiian shirt. “Now, about our friend…” “Oh, him,” Ephialtes sneered. “We were going to let him finish dying in public, but he has no entertainment value. He’s spent days curled up sleeping. What sort of spectacle is that? Otis, tip over the jar.” (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

Percy was ready to slice this giant in half and get out of there, but Otis was standing over Nico. If a battle started, Nico was in no condition to defend himself. Percy needed to buy him some recovery time.  (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

Percy glanced over at Nico, who was just starting to move. Percy wanted him to be at least conscious enough to crawl out of the way when the fighting started. (Mark of Athena, Chapter 45)

This was all despite the fact that Nico knew who Percy was and that he needed help when he was amnesiac and in Camp Jupiter and didn't do anything. [Look at it from Percy's perspective. He has helped Nico in the past and considers Nico a friend, and still, when he was at his lowest with no memory and in middle of nowhere fighting for his life or in enemy territory, Nico did little to help. Sure, maybe he couldn't reveal himself, but he still could have tried to help instead of just pretending he didn't know Percy and them avoiding him. Even if there was nothing Nico could do there, look at it from Percy's or even a general perspective and tell me it doesn't look wrong]

Also, the whole Percy promised to save Bianca to Nico is fundamentally incorrect. Percy knew the quest was hard, and there would be losses. He promised to do his best. And he did. It was not enough, but it is in no way Percy's fault. Even Bianca herself knew that. Stop projecting on her with your own opinions.

Also, remember Percy himself was 13 years old; a child himself who had to tell another child his sister was dead. As if Chiron shouldn't be doing that himself and taking responsibility. Percy did the hard thing and Nico obviously a child snapped at him and ran. He ran. None of them are wrong and neither of them should be blamed.

Mind you, Percy took the prophecy upon himself to protect Nico. He also kept Nico's parentage a secret from Chiron, someone Percy greatly respects out of care and protection for Nico. He looked everywhere for Nico and never once blamed him for some of the choices he made. In fact, despite having not been at fault, HE STILL TOOK RESPONSIBILITY FOR ALL OF IT AND FOR NICO HIMSELF.

Percy was the first to try and understand Nico, didn't blame him, didn't even get angry, and did everything to help, and YOU ARE BLAMING HIM?

Bianca was perfectly right to speak to Nico in front of Percy and ask him to forgive Percy, of course she would. Percy Jackson who owed them nothing and bore no responsibility for them did everything to take care of them and protect them and did so to Nico even when he switched sides and was actively trying to kill Percy. Tell me someone else who would be able to look past that? No one but Percy did. He literally went above and beyond for Nico and even included him IN HIS ONE WISH IN WHICH HE COULD HAVE ASKED ANYTHING HE WANTED BUT CHOSE TO ASK SOMETHING FOR OTHERS, FOR NICO DESPITE EVERYTHING THAT HAD HAPPENED.

You all just need someone to blame, and everyone just picks Percy; the one character who has literally nothing to do with half of the accusations against him. It's almost funny how far people go to implicate Percy in stuff he had no involvement and, in fact, did everything in his power to help with.

i think bianca di angelo would be so furious that they lost nico after she died. that he was able to just run away and get manipulated. (i know they looked for him, but *still*.) even though she was promised the camp would be a safe and accepting place for him. and dont get me started on how mad she’d be that the 7 (except hazel, of course, my angel) hesitated to save nico from that jar.

[maybenotmei]

Hi!! I saw requests are open again so i was wondering if you could write headcanons of what would include being married to Dark choco cookie?? Please and thank you <3

marriage!

ft. dark choco cookie

—> notes below

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comfort. expect having to comfort this man very often.

he's very happy to have you, yes! but that really doesn't outweigh the insane amount of stuff that lies on the back of his shoulders, like that curse on the sword and the dark

speaking of the dark, they were very disapproving of the marriage. you got married anyway so why do they need to dictate your love life?? very intruding, and rude . licorice supports it but dont tell pomegranate

at home, he tries his best to help out and do chores, like simply washing the dishes or sweeping the floor. the least he can do is help you out, so he does what he can do. i doubt he can cook though (okay so listen im not caught up on crk lore if He can cook then He can cook)

you switch up chores here and there, as usually you come home first. usually it'd be: you cook, set the table, and dark choco washes the dishes and puts them back on the rack. for home cleaning, he sweeps and dusts, you clean windows and mop the floors. as long as he can help out, he'll be okay with doing it

usually tries to do something with you, like sleeping beside you and letting you hug him, or taking a stroll outside. he would probably even buy something online for you if he knows how

back to the encouragement part, one of the few things that never differed from when you were dating was the fact he needs a ton of reassurance. even being beside him when he's reliving some horrid memories is enough. he laments on his past a lot, but he's also extremely grateful to have you

another thing that doesn't change is the stuff you do together. if you're... doing things that i do Not want to mention, that's the newest big thing you guys have done in your marriage so far. other than that, the dates, flowers, and the small smiles never change.

you pick out clothes with him, and leave him to watch the house while you go grocery shopping, if you're not the type to leave the house, you probably just order groceries online. (yes this is an actual thing hhehe)

sometimes he does go grocery shopping with you. sometimes he'd be holding an item he had always wanted to try for some time now, and i secretly slip it in the basket, making sure it isn't too expensive.

overall? very sweet husband. he's the same as always... but more intimate...? yeah.

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notes: was very hesitant at first to write this, as marriage is a huge thing to me, but at the same time what changes during a marriage between two people? thank you for your request!

[darkthallas]

One in the Same

Chapter Three

Summary: A little trip to see your brother and best friend, they’re not too happy to find out you’ve been talking to someone online.

This series will include heavy, dark topics such as: rape/non-con, gore, arson, torture, etc. My works are supposed to make people uncomfortable, if you are, then I did my job. Enjoy.

You would hate to admit that the *pretty much* first time you masturbated was in a dressing room. Safe to say you bought the dress, and that Steve was completely unaware of what you had done. The dress was in a pretty pink bag, that you had also elected to have Steve buy. He rolled his eyes playfully when you pleaded him to get it. Either way, he pulled out his black and silver card.  

You were practically skipping your way out to the car. You pulled out the keys, unlocking it. You started to pull out of the store, but then you saw a place for smoothies and turned off on that road.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked.  

“To get us smoothies,” You chimed, parking in front of the shop. You looked over with your best puppy-dog eyes, “Can you come with me?”

Steve scoffed, “Bucky was right. You do just want me for the money.”

“Steve,” You deadpanned, “I don’t want you; we’re related, I have to put up with you.”

Steve frowned the second you looked away from him. He was angry you said that. That just reminded him what he was planning was even worse than if you weren’t related to him. He got out of the car while you unbuckled your seatbelt and made sure your hair was all right.  

“Really?” Steve raised his eyebrows at you, judgingly, “Your hair looks fine, now hurry up and get out so we can order. I do want to go mini golfing sometime tonight.”

“Shut up, Steve.” You rolled your eyes, getting out of the Maserati.  

Steve felt his chest fill with anger, you were pushing it by saying that, just like this morning. He clenched his jaw, “Don’t tell me to shut up and don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.”

You scoffed walking by him, “Whatever, Steve. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

Steve grabbed your upper arm as you passed him. “No. It’s not ‘whatever.’ I’m your brother and you’re going to respect me, understood?”  

You jerked back, heart pounding in your chest in surprise. You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, “Okay, Steve... I was joking. I’m sorry.”  

A couple people were watching the scene with either wide eyes or a secretive glance and eavesdropping ears here and there. His jaw clenched and unclenched, glaring at you and then he relented. He let go of your arm, watching as the area he grabbed turned a bright yellow, then red. You stared at him for a second with hurt eyes. Then you both walked into the smoothie shop. That moment kept replaying in your head as you stood in line.  

You knew your arm was going to bruise, his hold on you was really tight and it hurt so bad. Your eyes started tearing up, but you ignored it. You didn’t know what was happening. How could your brother have changed so much since the last time you’d seen him?  

“Do you want something, Steve?” You asked very quietly.  

“Sure. Just order whatever.” He replied shortly.  

You smiled at the cashier as you stepped up to order and he smiled back, “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

“Hello, can I get a cherry mango smoothie and a pomegranate mango smoothie please?”

The cashier nodded, adding up your prices, “That would be $13.73.”

“Wow,” Steve commented, nudging your arm, “6 dollars for a smoothie?”  

You hid a wince as his elbow came in contact with the area he grabbed you. Steve glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he handed the card to the cashier.  

“Thank you,” You said to the cashier and you both moved to down the counter to wait for the smoothies.  

“So, what?” Steve asked, “Did you not get Bucky a smoothie?”

“No,” you muttered, “I got him one. I’m just... not really in the mood for one anymore.”

Steve hummed, smirking. Right, he thought, not in the mood anymore. The drinks finally came and you picked them both up, handing the pomegranate mango one to Steve.  

“Thanks.” He said, taking a sip.

You both got in the car and you put Bucky’s smoothie in the cup holder. You lean back in the seat.

“Steve, are you okay?” You finally ask.  

“Yeah. Perfectly fine.” He replied taking another drink.  

You almost scoff, starting the car. You shake your head, “You’ve changed, Steve. And I’m not sure it’s a good change.”

Steve chuckles, knowing exactly what you meant. You turn to look at Steve, yelping out in surprise as his hand comes in contact with your cheek. You looked back at him with wide eyes, bringing your own hand up to touch your cheek. You didn’t know whether to be angry or sad.  

Steve swore, “Fuck, I’m sorry, (Y/n)-”

He was interrupted by you opening the door, quickly getting out and slamming it shut. Steve sighed in aggravation, rubbing his forehead before getting out of the car to go after you.  

“(Y/n)!” He yelled, jogging to catch up with you as you hastily made your way down the sidewalk. He had to apologize otherwise he would mess up his and Bucky’s plan for tonight.  

This time when he grabbed you, he grabbed your hand, turning you to face him.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” He apologizes once he sees your tear-filled, red eyes. “I’m just stressed, you know that.”

“You hit me!” You exclaimed, “You have no right to lay a hand on me, at all!”  

You pushed at his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.  

“I’m sorry. Listen, just come back to the car. We can go home, forget anything happened, and then we can go mini golfing tonight.” Steve coaxed you to the car as tears fell down your cheeks.  

He sat you in the passenger seat and went back into the smoothie shop to get you a smoothie. He rolled his eyes as he entered, muttering, “Girls.”

Come on, Steve, you can last her attitude until tonight. It’s only a few more hours you have to put up with it.

He didn’t feel guilty for what he did to you. He really didn’t. But he knew, he knew if he didn’t apologize for slapping you that you would’ve left and he would’ve ruined all of the effort he and Bucky had both put into getting you.  

Steve walked back out to the car, getting into the driver’s seat. He definitely noticed the way you flinched when he handed you the drink.  

“Here.” He said, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the parking spot to drive home. “I got you a cherry raspberry mix.”

You were silent the whole way to Steve’s house, other than for the sound of you occasionally taking a sip of your smoothie. When Steve finally pulled into the garage and parked the car he sighed.  

“Well, how does it look?”  

You looked at him with a blank expression, “It’s fine.”

Steve rubbed your lower arm, avoiding the bruise forming on your upper arm, “I’m sorry. We can just forget about it now and have a good rest of the night, right?”

You nod, trying to smile, “Right.”

You and Steve both get out of the car, and you got more excited to surprise Bucky with the smoothie you got him. You reached into the back seat grabbing the bag your dress is in.  

You walked through the kitchen and up to where Bucky’s staying. You knock on the door with a smile.  

“Hang on a second, Sugar.”  

You heart fluttered in affection, but also in familiarity. Sebastian called you ‘Sugar.’ You didn’t think much about it, only taking that moment of curiosity to question the possibility. The door opened and you were greeted with Bucky smiling at you, but that smile soon turned into a frown when he saw your face and arm.  

“What the hell happened, Sugar?” He reached out slowly to touch your cheek, but you flinched away from him.  

“Nothing, Bucky, I guess I just leaned on my hand too much and it left a mark on my face.” You shrugged.

“Then what about your arm?”

“Oh,” you reply, “Steve just pulled me back from being hit by a car. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”  

You held out the drink, “Anyways, I picked you out a smoothie, it’s cherry mango. I hope you like it.”

He took it and immediately took a drink, “I like everything you give me, Sugar.”

“Okay, well, I should probably go get ready for tonight.” You say, turning to take your leave.  

Don’t forget to put on those pretty pink panties I just came in, Bucky chuckled, wishing he could say it aloud.  

You walked into the room you were staying in, grabbing your matching pink lacy undergarments and feminine products, moving into the bathroom. You shut the door and undressed to get in the shower. The warm water made you sigh and close your eyes.  

Steve knew you were right. He had changed. Did he care? No. So, why was it bothering him so much that you were crying after he slapped you?

Steve could hardly believe he was feeling bad right now. Whatever, girls are sensitive and overdramatize everything. She’s fine.  

He was walking his way to his room at the end of the hallway when the sound of running water caught his attention. Steve stayed silent as he listened to the water splash against your skin. He felt his pants get tighter and he slowly cracked the door open until he had a full view of you facing away from him.

Steve felt his cock twitch in his pants, coming to life at the sight of water dripping down your naked body. He grinned, placing his hand over his crotch. He gently kneaded, watching your hands caress your body. He would kill just to pull you from the shower and fuck you right there on the bathroom floor.  

Steve nearly groaned and he palmed himself harder, as he watched you lather soap onto your loofa and bend over to scrub your legs. Steve’s pants were painfully tight at this point. He unbuckled his belt and unbuckled his jeans, unzipping his jeans just enough to free his cock.  

Precum beaded at the tip, and he smeared it around, starting to fist his cock. Steve drew in closer to watch your hand slip in between your legs. Steve pulled his shirt up to his mouth to mask the noises that were bound to burst through his silent complexion. He had nearly gnawed through his bottom lip watching his baby sister do something that looks so lewd. He pumped his cock faster, this reminded him of the days when he was going through puberty and would go through your panty drawer to jerk off to something.  

That thought alone made him cum into his hand and clench his teeth down on his shirt to suppress a moan. Steve quietly closed the door once he came down from the height of his orgasm, tucking his semi-hard cock back into his boxers. He turned back down the hallway, not really surprised to see Bucky standing there.  

“What? Did it not give you enough imagery to masturbate to when you hit her?” Bucky chuckled.

Steve grinned, “No, not nearly enough. You know that, Buck. I can’t be satisfied when it comes to my baby sister.”

Bucky sighed contently, “This is all going just as we planned, you know. Almost every single detail.”

“I know. It’s all perfect.”

[basilly]

pregnancy hcs || irl!wilbur x reader & irl!karl x reader

. request: please can i have fundy pregnancy headcanons- you know who (pls tag me when u post it kiss kiss)

. ok well @losingvienna can not read /j but its ok LOL i am doing Wilbur and Karl

.pronouns: they/them

. mentions a pregnant reader!!

Wilbur:

. he would be even more in love- if that was humanly possible

. there is not anything he wouldn’t do for you 

“Wil!” “Yes love? Do you need anything? Heating pad? Hair-tie?”

. if he’s streaming and you need help- automatic pause

. cravings? goes out immediately for whatever you need (if obtainable)

“Wilbur where are you going?” “The store- you said you were craving pickles” “Yea but you don’t need to go now” “It’s okay, just lay down, I’ll be back soon”

. buys you those ridiculous pregnancy pillows that are like a giant ‘C’

. researches things about pregnancy so he would be prepared

. he will take the time to talk to the unborn baby everyday before sleeping

“When you are born and maybe a bit older, we are going to travel and I’m going to teach you all about the countries”

. and ofc he sings it lullabies- instrument or not

“Wilbur the baby isn’t even born yet” “I know it can hear me- babies can hear from outside the womb”

. will decorate the nursery with countries and things- he wants a geoguessr helper (duh /j) 

. claims tommy will not be able to come near the child when born

“I’m going to be an uncle! The cool and favorite uncle!” “Tommy you are not my brother- I’m not letting you near the child once they’re born” “What whyy”

. would suggest phil as the godfather

. he would be strict- he only wants the best

“No you cant- it says preganant people are advised not to use this” “It’s just a little bit!” “no”

. buys the unborn child lots of toys- including mini instruments

Karl:

. will ask Chris for help and tips

. also the person to call his mom in need of help

“Hello?” “Mom- y/n’s getting back pain how do I-”

. will be super excited that Tucker will have a friend

. will be super nervous he might mess up or miss something

. he is super excited though, he always looks at you, imaging how it will be once his baby is born

. decorates the nursery in a ton of cute animals

. would buy a ton of stuffed animals for the unborn baby too

. plans a baby shower down to the T

. I feel like he wouldn’t care about the gender- he’s just so excited to have a kid

. those late night talks where it’s like: (while he is rubbing your stomach)

“I’m so lucky, I’m with you and we are going to start a family together, I love you”

. goes to every ultrasound meeting, he does not want to miss a single one

. he would have so many pre-picked names from over the time you guys were dating

. lots of onsies- especially character or animal ones

. he’s so so excited for halloween because?? baby & family matching costumes?? a d o r a b l e

. would have those apps to see how big the baby is each week

“They’re the size of a pomegranate!”

. when you have the energy, he will play music and slow dance, as a “little family”

. he loves calling it “little bean” and talks very often

“Little bean- tell them they need rest, their ankles are swollen” “Karl they cant do anything”

. he’s just so excited

an: feeding the baby fever once more

taglist:  @acidtabletz @mayasimagines @salinesoot @bozowrites @kai-was-here @xoxothornbudoxox @kutozume @truthfulsyncerity @forutheworld @losingvienna @luluwinchester​ @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc​ @dreamiewrites​ @a-simp-for-block-people​ @dysfunctionalcrab​ @ella-ivanov​ @akasuki​

and @mina-luv-bot​ for ur bby fever <3

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: I got so many for Bigby, I’ve decided to combined them all! he really deserves all the love.

Also I’ve got a few that I already covered so instead of writing a hc for it I’m gonna write out a small little drabble.

Hibiscus Tea; what’s their favorite place to take their s/o?

Bigby is honestly happy with taking you to any place that makes you happy, he loves to see you smile. Though if it comes down to it the man would rather just stay with you in the apartment and just relax with you.

Pomegranate Tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

For Bigby it took him some time, it was Beauty that pointed it out to him. He’s never really knew what love was besides what his mother had given him to him when he was a child though looking back on the times he’s been with you he would have to say the moment he realized he loved you was when you stood up for him when Bloody Mary shot him.

Russian Caravan Tea; how experienced are they with relationships?

None...he has no experience at all, you were his first relationship.

Green Tea; how do they comfort their s/o? 

He tends to be a bit awkward at first but the deeper you both get into the relationship. He likes to hold you close, run his fingers through your hair. Buy your favorite snack, he just wants to see you smile again.

Chamomile Tea; what is their sleep schedule like? does it change around their s/o?

All over the place, Bigby doesn’t really have a proper sleep schedule due to his job. Then once he has kids  and his marriage with you, that goes completely out the window. When he eventually falls asleep he pulls you into his chest to fall asleep, he just loves holding you when he sleeps. Makes him feel more secure, safe.

Lemon Tea; what are mornings like with them?

Quiet, Bigby likes to start things of quietly. He tends to dislike loud noise’s in the morning due to his senses. If he is up first he stays in bed for sometime while he just holds you, he loves watching you. If you happen to be the one that gets up first you let him sleep in knowing he deserves the rest.

Chai Tea: how do they spice up their relationship?:

You’re little giggle was driving him mad, he was trying to get some work done. Keyword, trying but you...Glancing up he did his best to suppress any urge he might have. 

“Bigby...pay attention to me.”

Your heel was already off your foot as you let it trail up his leg, towards his inner thigh. 

“Y/n... need too.”

“What you need to do is to fuck me Bigby...please.”

Your own fingers were playing with the sash that held the overcoat you were wearing tightly closed. 

Eyes flashing gold for a moment the man jumped out of his chair. “One time...then thats it.” Pushing you down onto his desk you let out a pleased sigh knowing what was next.

“We’ll see...Wolfe.”

Matcha Tea: how and when do they propose to their s/o?

“You got this Bigby.”

Bigby mentally flinched at the burnt dish, he had wanted this night to be romantic...perfect though he never factored in the fact that he couldn’t cook. What in the hell’s was he going to do now?

Hearing your voice the man slowly stepped into the small dining area. “Uh...y/n...how about I take you out instead.”

Blinking, you smiled for a moment then nodded your head. “Okay.” Smoothing out your skirt you grabbed the mans hand as you let him pull you out of his small apartment.

Nibbling your lip you rested your head against his arm. “Dinner was great Bigby...I always loved that place.” Though you finally noticed the bag in his hand. “Oh! is that what I think it is...when did you get that?”

“I can’t give away all my secrets.” 

Giving you a wink, Bigby wrapped his arms around your waist walking you out of the park. This night was becoming better and better though his heart was racing from what he was going to ask you. When he finally reached the apartment he cleared out his eyes. “C...can you close your eyes y/n..only for a moment.”

Laughing softly you nodded your head. “Sure” Closing your eyes you listened as a small string of curses would leave his lips. It didn’t take long for him to come back. His hand grabbing yours gently as he lead you to the kitchen. “You can open them.”

Gasping your eyes went wide spotting the flower petals, feeling tears swell up you then noticed your favorite desert resting on the table but your eyes went wide seeing the ring. 

“Bigby.”

Watching as the man go down on one knee he gave you a nervous smile grasping his hand. “y/n...will you marry me?”

“YES!...yes I’ll marry you!” leaping into the mans arms you brought him in for a kiss.

Coffee:do they get jealous easily? how do they show it?

He was not jealous...why should he be, he trusted you....but that did not mean he trusted the man that was flirting with you. Wrinkling his nose he slowly walked over placing your drink down.

“Ah Bigby.” Beaming up at your boyfriend you noticed that his eyes remained on the man.

Sitting next to you, you then felt him wrap his arms around your waist giving you hip a small squeeze.

“Bigby?”

“Yes...this is my boyfriend.” Grabbing his arm you lent back into his chest. “He’s a Sheriff.”

The man was about to let out a scoff though he nearly slipped out of his chair. Watching him scramble away you turned to look up at Bigby, his eyes were gold for a moment, his fangs poking out. Shaking your head you placed your hand on his cheek. “Let’s go back to the apartment okay.”

“Fine.”

rosehip tea; how romantic are they? how do they show affection?

Letting out a small laugh, you titled your head to the side seeing the broken flowers in his hand. “You know this reminds me of our first date.” you teased walking over to him.

Sighing Bigby rubbed the back of his neck, placing the flowers on the counter top. “I was hoping those would last.”

Shaking your head you stood on your toes placing a kiss to his cheek as he wrapped his arms around your waist tugging you close. “Bigby, you don’t have to do that. I know you love me.”

Nodding his head, he nuzzled his nose against your neck. “That’s true though I did make reservations at your favorite restaurant but we do have some time to blow.”

Grinning you pulled back weaving your fingers through his. “Say no more.”

[nikikyuuun]

Hiiiii. Earl grey, coffee and pomegranate for Aoi twins please!! ♡ (or you can choose between one of them if you think it's too much to write for both! Sorry for the trouble)

it's no problem at all! ♡ buy one take one free aoi twin bundle......

❧ hinata and yuta tea prompts: earl grey, coffee, pomegranate

content warnings: none

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

much like the sunflowers he's very commonly associated with, hinata's courtship of you is just as bright and cheery—whether it's arcade dates, amusement park dates, or just wandering around the city, he's dead-set on making sure you're smiling by the time it's over. it's almost as if he wants to keep you on your toes: what will you be doing? where will you be going today? he does have his calmer moments too, though—like when he walks you home, your little fingers intertwined, the most satisfied of smiles on his face.

coffee; do they get jealous easily? how do they show it?

not...necessarily. it's kind of situational, actually—depending on how busy you've both been and who you've been hanging around lately. maybe hinata's been extra busy with school and idol work, and the one time he's free, something else just popped up in your schedule. the next time you two can meet up, he's clinging to your shoulders and teasing, "heeey, don't go replacing me now, okay?"

pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

it was sudden, like a bucket of water being dumped on him: had your smile always made him feel so winded? hinata would've noticed it while watching you flick away a stray crumb from his cheek, or picking a leaf out of his hair—something small and inconsequential, but leaves him feeling like he's just run a marathon. he goes silent a moment, whatever witty quip he had been about to say dying on his lips, before he brushes it off. the topic of conversation changes in an instant, but hinata finds himself thinking of that one fleeting moment all night.

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

yuta makes sure to always take note of things you like—this cafe on the walk home from school, that bookstore down the block, the movie premiering this weekend and the new book coming out and... he just enjoys seeing you have a good time; that much is enough for him! his courtship of you is a lot less adrenaline-inducing than hinata's, but each of his thoughtful little gifts and dates are undeniably tinged in affection for you.

coffee; do they get jealous easily? how do they show it?

yuta can be little a jealous...as a treat. it's kind of embarrassing, but especially when he hasn't been able to spend as much time with you as he'd like, and sees you having a ton of fun with someone else? he's glad for you, but there's something else hanging a little heavy in his chest, too. yuta wouldn't say it outright at all, but he'll be a little clingier with you, a little more proactive in taking you on dates. and if you notice his ears turn a little red when you ask, well...it must just be your imagination!

pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

it's something that would've built up slowly over time, for a good duration of your friendship. because of that gradual burn, it's rather hard for yuta to identify a specific thing or point in time that he realised that, well, he loved you—but he has a good feeling it was when he caught you slumped against the wall waiting up for him after practice. when he nudged you awake, and when he chided at you ("you're going to get sick if you sleep around anywhere, you know!") and when he gripped your hand to pull you up. you didn't quite let go—and yuta couldn't quite bring himself to.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hello there! Can you write hcs for Tim with a demigodess!reader please? Congrats on your 600 followers btw^^

Tim Drake x Demigoddess!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much! So I’m totally dense about greek myths and stuff and I was gonna make her Thor’s daughter at first but then I forgot about that I did Hades but when I remembered it was already written so oh well

You were the daughter of Hades and Persephone

You had kind of a weird childhood

Don’t get me wrong, it was a great childhood

Being princess of the underworld and the daughter of the only sane people in all of Olympus had its perks

But compared to everyone else, it was weird

Hades was extremely protective of you because you were a mortal

Meaning that you could die

The thought of having to greet your soul when you died filled him with so much grief

So, he kept you sheltered, kept you safe

Never letting you lift a finger

As princess you had everything you ever needed and everything your heart desired

Since birth you had been trained by Athena and Aries under your father’s watchful eyes

When you were 16 and you finally wanted to see the rest of the world, you begged your parents to let you go to the mortal world

It took months of begging and when they said no, you’d get so upset that all the flowers in the underworld would wither

Persephone seeing how much you wanted to see the world

So, she convinces Hades to let you go

And he agrees but just as long as you promise to visit

You go to the human world and you’re so oblivious about human life that it’s concerning

Walking around in a floor length dress wondering why everyone else wasn’t dressed the same way

This is how you meet Diana Prince

She recognizes you immediately when you arrive at the Smithsonian, looking mildly confused

Your eyes light up when you see a familiar face

You stay with her for a couple of days before she decides that you’d be better off at the cave

That’s exactly what happens

Even though you whine a little and say you want to stay with her

She just knows it’s because you’re nervous about being in a new place

You know that if you were in any real danger your parents would inflict rage on the mortal world

Feeling mildly comforted at the idea

Diana doesn’t tell them to add you to the group

She just tells them that you need a place to stay and someone to help you find your way around

The first people you meet are Batman, Nightwing and Robin

Immediately being comforted just by looking at them

Batman reminded you of your dad and Nightwing of your mom

And Diana trusted them so you did too

You end up following Tim and Dick around for the next couple of days like a lost puppy

Dick finds it amusing

Tim is kinda unsettled but thinks you’re stupid for some reason

It isn’t until he actually talks to you, he realizes you’re much more profound than he gave you credit for

You don’t officially join the team

You just live there

Everyone thinks that you have no training whatsoever

And that you’re just a princess

Which you technically are but

Until you’re watching them train one day and then remember the days you would spar with Athena

It looked like so much fun

Immediately you wanted to join in

Some of them rolled their eyes and thought you were wasting their time

The others were happy to let you join in

They wanted to make Bart spar you but you looked around contemplatively before pointing at Tim

“If it is alright with you, I wish for you to be my partner.”

Tim blushing because what you said sounded like you were choosing him as a life partner, rather than sparring partner

Of course, Bart teases him for it as well as the others

When Tim walks up to the middle, Dick subtlety tells him to take it easy on you and he nods

The match is over before he can even make a move

You had the speed and strength of a god, it wasn’t a surprise

Not to you at least

To everyone else, kind of a huge surprise

Standing over him and giggling

“I want a rematch.”

“But of course.”

Spending the rest of the day sparring with him

He doesn’t beat you even once

And the others just watch you throw him around for an afternoon

After a while it stops being funny and Nightwing is almost concerned

It kind of hurts his pride but you still acknowledge him

“You know, for a human, you’re very skilled.”

“Uh, thank you?”

After that you go through the other members quite quickly

Some of them gave you a little trouble, like Conner

But you managed to be undefeated

They all think you should join the team after that and you agree

Spending more time with Tim that way

Always talking to him about your family’s history and stuff

Telling him all about your parents love story when he asked to hear about it

You talk so fondly of it and he’s honestly just kind of shocked that Greek Mythology isn’t mythology

I mean, he knew it was real because of Diana

But he never really understood how real these gods were

He falls for you

He loves the way your eyes light up and you smile at him

He loves the way you’re always eager to learn

He loves that you’re so kind and gentle but can also beat people up without even trying

He asks you out but it didn’t go as well as he was hoping

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes, a walk sounds lovely.”

“(Y/N), I like you.”

“Aw that’s so sweet Tim, I like you too, friend.”

Everyone else starts enjoying the way he crashes and burns all the time

And Tim would stop asking usually

But he knows it in his bones that you like him too

But he has no other way to tell you aside from marching up to you and kissing you

Makes that Plan B tho

Plan A is getting you a bouquet of your favourite flowers and telling you that he likes you

Romantically

Not platonically

You grin widely and tell him you like him too

Kissing you just as the sun set that day

It’s one of your favourite memories

His too

Everyone being extremely happy and supporting of your relationship

You can tell Batman is trying to threaten you

But your father is god of the underworld and you have a three headed dog

So, when you and Tim are caught kissing in some hidden crevice in the cave by him and he tries telling you off, you can’t help you smile adorably

“Don’t worry Batman, I have no intention of dishonouring your son.”

Batman is like ???

And Tim is either like “Please don’t speak like we’re in the 1800s.”

or “Please dishonour me.”

He buys you pomegranates as a joke but then you prank him saying that if he eats them, he has to return to the underworld with you

Dick (Nightwing) approves

You like falling asleep in his arms so more often than not you plead with him to stay at the cave and sleep with you

He knows relationships in Olympus generally move a lot quicker so he ends up having to sit you down and explain everything to you so you know his boundaries

Totally accepting them and never going farther than he wants

You appreciate the small things

Like sitting in his lap and eating breakfast

Or being the small spoon

You become the team’s resident couple

Being part of a team, a family is honestly so much fun

Everyone thinking your invincible and practically indestructible

Until one day you’re hurt on the battlefield

Everyone freaking out and getting you back to the cave so you could be treated

The next morning, Tim goes to check up on you and finds something shocking

He’s not sure what to be more surprised by

Cerberus napping at the foot of your bed

Or you crying

Even though the giant, three-headed dog freaks him out, he still sits beside you and asks what’s wrong

“My father demands that I return home. He cannot stand the thought of me being hurt.”

His heart stops

He likes you so much, even bordering on love

And he doesn’t want you to leave

But who was he to stop the God of the Underworld?

Comforting you when you cried, hugging you tightly

“Shh it’s gonna be okay.”

You return home after that and it breaks Tim’s heart

You don’t officially break up but it’s kind of implied because you can never return back to the mortal world

Him being depressed for the next few months but he hides it well

Even though everyone knows how he’s feeling

Things aren’t any better on your end

Your heart aches with every second your away from him

Until one day it happens

Your soul wants to be with Tim

So, it tries to leave your body

You have a heart attack that night and nearly die and it horrifies Hades

He goes all the way to the mortal world to find Tim

Tim doesn’t quite understand how you could have a heart attack from missing him

But is still worried and agrees to go to the Underworld to see you

When he gets there, you’re in so much pain

But once he brings you into his arms you feel sated

When he kisses you, everything fades into a dull ache

Hades wants Tim to stay in the Underworld after that but you argue and tell him to go back to the land of the living

This wasn’t the place for him

“I’ll give up on you, I promise, but you can’t stay here any longer my love.”

“I don’t want to leave your side.”

“I’m sorry, but you know we can’t be.”

Tim goes the next morning and it breaks your heart but you know that it’s for the best

You spend the next few weeks in such sorrow that all of Persephone’s plants die

Hades and Persephone both see how much you love Tim and they are reminded of themselves when they were younger

Making a joint decision to let you go back to the mortal world

But you have to live a long life

That’s the one condition

You running into the cave and crashing into Tim’s arms

Kissing him there and feeling everything go right in the world

You fulfil your parents wish

And live a long, happy life by Tim’s side

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[angelkin-food-cake]

After reading your rules for requesting post I'm super interested in drinks! Could I request some drink recipes for a fallen angel? I'm lactose intolerent, so preferably dairy free recipes. I'm a fan of sweet, fruity drinks and sweet dessert-y drinks! I also enjoy sweet and sour combos! I'm an adult so if you include adult drinks that's okay too :) if not though absolutely no worries! Have a lovely day!

Hello!

So sorry it’s been so long since this was sent in! Finally feeling better enough to tackle my inbox. Here’s some drinks for you! ♥

The Flying Fig

Raspberry Chia Lemonade

Autumn Sangria with Apples, Pomegranate and Figs

Vanilla and Port-Poached Cherries and Cherry Cream Soda

Aloha Smoothie

Chocolate Raspberry Almond Butter Protein Shake

Holiday Pomegranate Non-alcoholic Mojito Recipe

Raspberry Limoncello Prosecco

If you enjoy my content please tip or buy me a coffee = ) ♥

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 18: Quiet Earth, Part II.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here! Notes: Co-angels @honeysides, @shallow-gravy, and @lilwritingraven all provided immense support while I toiled over this chapter, which I am forever immensely thankful for. Never would've been able to give people second-hand embarrassment like this without y'all enabling me. As always, thank you for reading!

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence. Sexually-explicit content. An angry cult leader with performance anxiety. You know the drill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The comparative tranquillity of Seed Ranch had a way of making Cora feel like time was moving slower than it should have. In all seriousness, the chain-reaction of their escape from Fall's End was still firing, but without the gunshots and the shouting, approaching the property felt more like being in stasis. It was too still. Too unassuming.

The Project members awaiting John on the steps of the property were vigilant about a thorough, yet strangely distant reception of the man, as if they’d been hard-wired to anticipate his moods; warmly welcoming him home, but giving the man such a wide berth that one might have assumed he was carrying a live grenade.

Cora supposed he was at least consistent in his inconsistency; just as volatile toward his allies as he was his enemies. She wondered if the serenity of the ranch was a natural element of John's sect; whether they simply cared enough about the man to know his boundaries to the inch - or whether such a light-hearted environment was manufactured deliberately and specifically around his temper.

The Deputy’s presence did well to break the façade, however. It brought with it a range of cautious exchanges from the followers that ushered them into the home; some in fear of re-living the bedlam of her bunker escape, and others casting stern looks between her bare midriff and their leader’s refusal to leave her side.

She noticed it, too - how he stuck to her like Velcro.

It was only after she was administered pain medication and had her wound dressed (they’d been gracious enough to re-dress the haphazard bandaging on her hand, too) that John abruptly took his leave, excusing himself to apparently more pressing matters. Cora was simply confined to the foyer, drifting in and out of snoozing consciousness on one of the couches in front of the fireplace.

All in all, the mental and physical exhaustion of conceding defeat to the Project proved in all honestly a little boring. The blonde had expected she might break down once she was left alone. It seemed about the right time for it, and yet, all she felt was tired. Was it the cult who had done this to her? Run her so ragged that only anger remained?

Ideas of escape waxed and waned with cultists moving in and out of the space periodically to check in on her, lessening in their hostility with each passing visit until their warnings not to cross them turned into beratements over her refusal to sit still, for the love of Joseph.

In her restlessness, she sorted through thoughts and memories, deciding on the conclusion that while yes, today had been devastating, she’d long since thrown away her capacity to recognise it. It had been so long since she’d spared herself any emotion beyond rage that everything else felt only vaguely different. She might’ve broken down, had she not forgotten how to do such a thing. Trying only gave her a stomach ache, and so she resigned herself to waiting it out, growing more and more impatient with how undramatic this aftermath had turned out to be. How her captor had left her so unceremoniously after being declared victor.

Maybe he was similarly nonchalant about all this.

...No. That was impossible. He'd probably just excused himself to go dance a celebratory little jig. Perhaps he'd stepped through a hornet's nest in doing so, or been ambushed by coyotes. Something beyond mere choice that warranted the excuse to disappear like that.

The skylights in the ceiling changed hues over the course of what felt like hours, however, and John did not return.

It felt weird, being in his home without him present. It felt weird being fussed over by house staff who muttered for her to stop picking at her bandages while she lay across his furniture, warmed by his fire. It felt weird that her exposure to Sharky and Jess had finally led her to identify that the strange smell she’d always detected in the Baptist’s home was unmistakably raw cannabis.

Eventually, the clatter of plates and bubbling conversation drew the Deputy away from the couch and around to the other end of the foyer. The gigantic table she’d only ever seen stacked high with bibles in the past now carried an assortment of food, picked at by passing cultists like a barbeque line while they chattered away.

Watching them almost felt like watching her family back in Brooklyn. Waiting out the messy crossed streams of conversation in hiding until the coast was clear and the kids could swarm the reward of food without the labour of having to hang out with the adults. It was strange, how they mimicked a family, when the only similarity Cora could gauge between them were the logos printed on their clothes.

The spying didn't last. One pair of eyes flickering to her quickly became ten, and Cora's heart rate skyrocketed. Instinct kicked in. Eyes combing over each Peggie around the table for weapons. Hands reaching for her own absent holster and emptied pockets.

The group did not respond in-kind. Apparently, they were too preoccupied with loading up their plates to deal with a leader of the Peggie-killing movement in their space.

Cora didn’t buy it. Not straight away. Not until her gaze darted around the rest of the room, weighing up which of the Baptist’s gaudy home decorations might be most effective at bone-crushing and-

“Look who’s got her colour back.”

…

What?

The same cultist who spoke up - a woman - one of the group who’d been at the church earlier, gestured at the table. “Hungry?”

What?

One Peggie with a particularly heavy beard slid a plate over the table toward Cora. Two younger girls over his shoulder giggled to each other.

“Do you think we should offer her a shirt?”

“I’m not that brave. Leave it to John.”

“Anything fresh is all from the garden.” The bearded Peggie spoke, pulling Cora’s scowl away from them with a smile.

She inspected the table. Undersized apples and strawberries. Home-grown, by their imperfections. Multi-coloured silver beet and slightly burned sweetcorn. Homemade bread piled an end of its own, surrounded by a selection of preserves in blank jars. All of it, against her will, served as a reminder that she’d only ingested coffee today. This was bizarre, but she was hungry. Not to mention the Resistance diet consisted mostly of canned spaghetti.

Gingerly, the Deputy picked at one of everything, and while the group of cultists continued chatting, she stood awkwardly by on the side-line, trying to figure out the most efficient means of eating corn while still maintaining a hostile air about her and lot letting slip that it was fucking delicious.

Apparently tearing into the thing wasn't adequately frightening. The same talkative man split from the party to approach her, ignoring the roll of her eyes. A spot of shine glided over his bald head while he moved around the table, and as he neared, he gave her a moment to squint at him.

There was something familiar about that overbearing air.

“We’ve... -”

“Met.” He confirmed. “Briefly.”

“When?”

“Months ago now. I, uh, almost baptised you.”

Cora chewed the inside of her cheek, considering that. Somewhere in the back of her mind the memory of wet rocks beneath her feet swelled with the lapping of shallow waters. Just tap my arm if you need to come up for air.

He shrugged at her silence. “You were pretty Blissed-”

“No, I remember you.” The Deputy mumbled, turning her attention back to her food, intent on keeping it there. It didn’t last long. A hand stretched out before her, and with a laboured, full-mouthed sigh, she shook it.

“Andrew. Glad to see you again.” He offered.

“Okay.”

The silence was as painful as she’d hoped to make it, but tragically, he was resilient.

"Andy works, too-"

"Andrew's syllabically identical and perfectly sufficient. Where's your boss?"

“Upstairs, working.”

“And he’s asked not to be disturbed.” One woman interjected. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Cora blinked at that. Then, plate still in-hand, she spun on her heel and made for the staircase.

Behind her, the group exchanged a collective look of panic.

"Ma'am?"

"Sister?"

"Hey!"

“We’re not allowed up there!”

“Perfect." Cora grumbled back, already ascending the steps. "Then you don’t have to worry about following me.”

The second storey of Seed ranch was dead still in comparison to downstairs. A hallway presented a quiet stretch of closed doors and branching hallways that led out to balconies, part way between residential space and tactical efficiency.

Back in the day, she’d assumed the Baptist just had a thing for doors. Looking around at the space now, it was clear that John was well-aware of how many enemies he’d generated thanks to his work.

The crackle of a radio up ahead drew the Deputy’s attention, and as she drew closer, a hushed curse.

“Pick up. Come on, pick up.” John murmured. Then, in a brand new tone: “Joseph. Brother. I need you to call me back. Please, it’s been - just...whenever you can. I’ll be here.”

She found him beyond a cracked doorway, hunched over a desk. His fingers smoothed through damp hair hair, tugging, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

The door creaked as Cora pressed against it, and in the time it took for her to cringe at the noise, John had sat up straight, shifting out of whatever private mood she’d spied him in. He blinked up at her, inhaling deeply, reeking of uncertainty.

She felt it too. Of all the scenarios to catch him alone in, the blonde hadn’t expected that she’d be brandishing sourdough.

A moment passed. Both of them trying to feel out this new territory.

“Hey.” Cora eventually muttered.

John exhaled. “Hi.”

“Brought food.”

He looked away. “Deputy, pleased as I am that you’re making yourself at home, I asked for privacy.”

“Since when did you value privacy?” Cora asked, pushing into the room and seating herself on the desk. The tired irritation on John’s face when she set the plate in front of him was worth the day of boredom already. He glanced up at her, and she responded with a wolfish smile.

“You have corn in your teeth.” He mumbled, relenting, posture slackening. “And you’re getting blood flakes on my desk.”

The Deputy tried not to look so hurried about picking. “Isn’t that a garnish in Japan?”

“That’s fish. You’re thinking bonito.”

“I know what I’m thinking.”

Another pause.

“Is that what you thought you were filleting in the church? Bonito?”

Annoyed silence.

“It was Nick.”

Finally, John scoffed, glaring at her, offering a reluctant nod when she flashed her teeth to confirm she’d gotten rid of the food in her teeth. “You are so funny.”

“Thank you. Eat something.”

Cora watched the man regard the plate in front of him.

“How generous of you to take a bite out of everything first." His gaze landed on the shredded corn cob. "Except for that. That,  you demolished."

"Yeah, well." Cora plucked up the same piece of bread he'd been reaching for. "Why're you hiding up here? Thought maybe you would've starting laying on the torment by now. Not...brooding."

"Brooding."

"Yes."

"Pardon me for needing to adjust to having a murderer in my home."

Cora hummed at that, casting a look around the room. "Took you about 2 seconds to adjust to a murderer's tongue in your mouth-"

"Deputy." John spat, pushing the plate away from him in a final display of denial. "Please, leave. I'm busy."

“No, you’re not.” Cora bit back. “I want to know what your plan is. Now you’ve got me, what’s next? What’s the point in me sitting around on your couch all afternoon? You don’t leave me alone, ever, and now that I’m here you want me to make myself scarce?”

The Baptist's jaw rolled in annoyance, and when Cora shifted her legs to face him easier, he jerked away from her, avoiding contact. “You’ve grown too accustomed to being in the spotlight." He grumbled.

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“What’s your deal? What's the plan? What happens now?”

“The plan is to get back to work. My apologies if your assumption was that you were the main goal of this valley, but there are dozens of things that require my attention-“

“Like sitting by the phone for your brother for hours?”

John paused at that. Something old and familiar flashed over his expression, and he stood from his seat. “You’re jealous.” He accused.

Cora’s lip curled, ears running hot. “You’re wasting time, and I want to know why.”

“Is that why you're nosing through my business? If I gave you details - what I'm working on - what the next step is - is that a strategic win for you?" His palms slid against the desk, planted on either side of her legs. "Or is my lack of undivided attention so awful to you that anything to help rationalise it would do?"

Something in her celebrated that look on his face. The renewed confidence in his attitude. It enraged her, but it was scores better than his absence.

She scowled, but she didn’t pull away when John leaned down into her space. It didn’t work the way it used to. Now it didn’t feel close enough. Now she wanted to part her legs and pull his hips against her.

It was a discomfort she’d never known before, and now, even with her wounds dulled, it almost felt painful. She wanted to know what the plan was. She wanted to plan an escape. She wanted to have just this one little victory if this was the end of the line. If he was going to convert her, then she could at least undermine him by ruining his faithfulness. It might destabilise him enough that she could find some advantage to getting back to Fall’s End. That would make it okay, if it were all driven by strategy or revenge. Her curiosity would be sated.

But then, as if he could hear her thoughts from the sheer volume of their demands, John drew away from her.

“You should shower.” He muttered quickly, snatching the radio from the desk. “Across the hall, on the right.”

He didn’t look at her as he left the room. He didn’t look back when he disappeared down the hall and made for the stairs.

Cora glared ahead at the space he'd left emptied.

What a fucking coward.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Despite her soured mood, Cora had done as she was ordered. She spent all of two minutes rinsing the old blood from her skin, and another ten reflecting in quiet judgement over the bottle of 3-in-1 sitting in the shower caddy with her. Maybe she should've allowed herself the opportunity to warrant having to bathe here earlier. Maybe she'd have developed more of a sense of disgust for the man if she had.

The clothes she’d arrived in were still stained, but it was an improvement. Less of a sensory distraction while she sorted through her thoughts, at least.

While the Deputy dried off and re-dressed, the haze of pain relief began to lighten, and she was able to focus on cobbling together some kind of a plan to get herself out of Seed Ranch. She might have conceded defeat, but the hideous tattoo marking her sternum didn't mean she was suddenly going to behave. Especially if her captor was refusing to even the playing field and let her know what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Whatever John was keeping from her, it was urgent enough that his entire demeanour had changed. What did he need from Joseph so desperately? If it had anything to do with the Resistance, or if had anything to do with Joseph coming here, the Deputy intended to put a stop to it.

If John Seed’s intention was to avoid her, he should’ve thought twice before locking her in his home. Ensuring that he’d keep his distance, however, was the easy part.

The real goal would be getting him away from that radio.

Descending the stairs, Cora found John in solitary silence in the foyer. There was no sign of the Peggies serving up supper anymore, and the dining table had been cleared.

John was alone, sitting on the couch by the fireplace with his head in his hands, no less agitated than when she’d first found him. The hand-held sat close by on his left. In front of him on the coffee table was a landline phone that hadn’t been there previously.

He didn’t notice her at first. To his credit, she didn’t announce herself until a creak of the stairs did it for her. Then, the snap of his gaze toward her was instant. Hyper-vigilant.

Cora reached the first floor. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Minding the perimeter.” John answered, making space for her to take a seat but keeping himself faced away. “You’ll be pleased to know that your troop is still yet to be captured. Little doubt they’re aware that you’ve been brought here. Even less that they’re on the hunt for you, given the state Fall’s End was in when we left. Boshaw seemed happy enough to blow up half the town to get to you. Shorty."

There was no mistaking his bitterness at the nickname.

When she approached, Cora found a folded Project sweater sitting where she intended to. John’s jaw rolled when she slowed to glare at the thing.

Still, he refused to look at her.

“Put it on. You’ll freeze.”

“I’d rather not look like one of you when the Resistance comes to rescue me.”

“You are one of us, now. Almost. Once you’ve pledged yourself to the Project, they needn’t consider it a rescue effort any longer.”

Cora huffed in response, pulling the sweater over her head and slumping into the couch. “You sound a lot less happy about that than I’d expect.”

“I’m fine.”

Stonewalling. Now she was beginning to understand how annoying it was when she did it.

“I’ve made enough of a career out of it to know what you look like when you’re not fine.” The Deputy remarked.

“I think I preferred it when I was asking all the questions.”

“I think you preferred me when I was tied up in a basement.”

That comment caught a glance. Amusement, unnoticed on her part.

“So, what - you’ve been sitting beside a radio all day and somehow weren’t inclined to terrorise me? Or were you just that busy arranging flowers for my Atonement?”

“Are you feeling stood up?” John asked. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were projecting, Deputy.”

Her ears flushed hot. Immediate rage flooded pitted in her stomach, but as much as the blonde would have liked to get up and stomp elsewhere, she had little other option without any better ideas.

Right now, this was all she had.

Channelling her inner Adelaide.

Cora inhaled, swallowing back a cursory retort. “Both work.”

In her periphery, John ceased all movement, staring straight ahead.

All she had to do was pressure him enough to move away. Then it was over. She’d been rejected by him before - anticipating it happening again shouldn’t have needed to feel as gross as it did.

“Maybe I think you got scared, not having me under your control.” She went on, finding the words already prepared on her tongue as she turned toward him. “You seemed like you were enjoying it when it was you-”

“-and then you punched me in the face.” John cut in stiffly.

“Didn’t deter you.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s against the rules.” The clip in his tone signalled a warning. Then, an impatient sigh escaped his nostrils. “And you said it yourself: it was a mistake.”

He wasn’t going to look at her. There was no pulling at his attention while he could hide her in his periphery.

“Is that why you’re upset?” She made a quiet move to touch her fingers to his forearm, but he pulled away with a scoff.

“If you’re trying to buy time -”

“Are you frustrated?” Cora pressed on. His shifting had given her enough leeway to get herself between him and the phone, and she took her opportunity, sliding down to kneel between the couch and the coffee table. Directly in front of him. “Knowing what people say about you?”

John finally inclined his head to sneer down at her, but if he had anything he was intending to say, it was silence by the bob of his Adam's apple. A gulp. His breathing was the only audible sound in the room, barring herself; shallow and staggered.

Almost there.

Cora kept her eyes on his. She wouldn’t lie - despite sitting at his feet like this, she could still gauge the power that she held. That while, yes, there was a spark of disappointment that came with watching him ignore her advances, there was also some odd thrill in watching the man who’d made multiple attempts on her life struggle so much. Knowing that, even with her unarmed and kneeling - even with all his connections and soldiers, and everything he'd done to her - he was powerless.

He’d taken her freedom, but she could get that back. She’d compromised his loyalty to dogma. Nearly made the tallied notches on his arm into a lie. He'd have to start again from the ground-up. He'd be middle-aged before he found the same progress.

“Now that I’m atoned. Now that no one’s watching.” She sat up, drawing closer to his thigh, inwardly cursing at his refusal to move away this time. “All that work you put into catching me, and now what? Nothing?”

“Deputy.” John growled, low and dangerous.

“You want this.” Cora concluded, watching the flush of red bloom from beneath his collar and the flex of his jaw while he grit his teeth.

“There are bigger things at stake right now-”

“And even now that you have me, you’re too scared to do anything about it.”

John inhaled a swift breath, averting his gaze. “That’s beside the point.”

“You want this."

“Would you quit it? You’re wrong.”

Finally, the Baptist shoved himself out of the couch, back-stepping several paces until he was half-way across the room. Once he’d gotten himself to a safe distance, he regarded the Deputy once more, gaze cold and angry while she cycled through unknown victory and equally unknown disappointment.

He wasn’t going to be made to give in.

“You haven’t been atoned. Not yet.” John breathed, turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen.

Cora stared at the doorway he'd escaped through. Now was her chance.

One...two...three...

Okay. He wasn't coming back in a hurry. She'd successfully scared him off.

There was no time to waste.

While the faucet ran in the next room, Cora twisted around, snatching the phone upside down and hastily unclipping the cable from the device. The dial-tone cut to silence. Communication blocked, but cord hooked up to the damn thing was already conspicuous without  evidence of tampering. She couldn't just discard the cable.

There was no way John wouldn’t notice its absence when he returned, and so the Deputy did what any effective home invader would do.

She bit down on the cord, close as she could to the adapter, chewing hard until grinding wire snapped between her teeth. When she plugged the cable back in and set the phone straight again, the machine remained dead, but intact.

Good. That'd buy some time.

The radio was next. Rather than switch the device off, Cora tuned it a few notches, finding a dead station and placing it back right where John had left it.

Done.

Sabotage successful. If Joseph had any intention of making a call-back soon, he’d be going unheard. There was no telling how long it would last, but unless the Baptist was stocked on landlines, half of his communications were disabled entirely.

Cora exhaled, inviting in the momentary relief. Being kept here was one thing. Having to be in the same room as Joseph Seed was another dimension entirely.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She called, rising to a stand and following the Baptist’s trail.

No response.

When Cora entered the kitchen, John was dabbing his neck with wet hands. The moment he sensed her, he grumbled a sharp curse, bracing his hands against the counter to keep from facing her.

“Is this the plan? We just sit and wait?”

His shoulders seized. “...Yes.”

Cora stalked past him, finding a counter of her own to lean against, finding her own patience dwindling. Coiling irritation at the very notion of Joseph having so much sway over the Baptist that he could seemingly halt time.

“So what’s the point in taking me? In bringing me here?” She spat.

“Disregarding our personal rapport, it’s no small matter, having you here.” John ground out. “My family will want to know-”

“Have you tried calling Jacob?”

Something twitched in John's expression. A button, pushed. Dispelled rage.

“The Father  will-”

There was no holding back the snarl that brewed in her throat. Hitting its boiling point. He did  have that much sway over the man. They were sitting here in stasis, all because of him.

“Are you that fucking sad? We’re stuck here just because you need to hear Joseph tell you how well you did? A whole fucking resistance effort just blew up half of Fall’s End. You caught  me. Dozens of people are dying, and all you can do is sit by the phone?” Cora demanded, scowling while his muscles trembled. “Are you serious?!”

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, CORA?!”  John bellowed, head snapping around to fix her in place, eyes blazing. The sheer volume of him froze her to the spot. "Did you assume that you were somehow different from anyone else the Project takes in? That your place here; that you're even alive  had anything other to do than Joseph requesting it? Did you think that you'd somehow slipped through every possible crack in the system for any reason beyond this path being carved specifically by the Father? Because, frankly speaking, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

The Deputy didn't reply. She couldn't.

Not that it would've mattered.

John, it seemed, was far from finished.

“You're so selfish. One moment you insist on making your own salvation impossible. The next, you assume you can simply start calling shots." He bit, voice already hoarse from yelling, but with no less poison. "You think I enjoy waiting around for whatever order comes next? That I enjoy you waltzing around my home, eating my food, whining that I'm not doing enough  for you? After all the wrath you’ve wrought - after all the death and the destruction - you’re still so fucking entitled to assume that I’d throw aside my loyalty to the Father. All just because you’re here, and not even by fucking choice.”

Cora swallowed, calming the nerves that egged her on to snap back at him. "I didn't - I don't - "

After a moment, the hostility thinned. John's shoulders sagged.

"I know it's not optimal. It might not seem like it, but we're lucky. Things could be a lot worse for both of us, but on Joseph's order, they're not. It's his wisdom that made you being here even possible. So yes; the plan right now is that we sit and wait."

John turned toward her, then. He looked positively miserable.

“What happened last night…can’t happen again.” He explained. “It doesn’t matter that you’re here now. I’m the Baptist. Joseph is my brother. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, and there’s nothing he won’t find out. We need to do everything we can to stay on his good side.”

He did have a point. As much as she wanted John to be the last of her enemies, he was only one of three, and likely the lowest ranked of the Project's leaders. Pushing John to defy a higher power was unwise.

Her job was done, anyway. There was no more need to pursue him. Curiosity didn't matter. Want didn't matter. No meant no.

“Okay.” The Deputy croaked finally, nodding.

John raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She attempted a smile. "Water under the bridge."

He returned the expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

They both stood still, watching each other for a long moment.

Then Cora’s heart sank, and she felt herself detach from the counter. John did the same, marching toward her while she advanced on him with equal urgency.

Her fingers found the front of his shirt just as his found her face, and his mouth was on hers in a heartbeat. For all her rationalisations, the blonde reciprocated immediately, clutching him closer, humming into his kiss with a pitch she’d normally find mortifying.

“I’m sorry.” John breathed, hardly breaking away long enough to put the words together before he was kissing her again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cora nodded, barely able to formulate a response against him. Every word she reached for melted on her tongue, completely enraptured by the heat of his mouth and his desperate hands not knowing whether they wanted to grip at her hips or keep cradling her jaw.

She didn’t even know she’d been walked backward until she felt the cold countertop hit the small of her back, and then - much more pleasantly - the warmth of John’s body pressing against her front. She gasped, winding a hand into his damp hair and slipping beneath his shirt with the other, pawing at whatever skin she could access and drawing another one of those pitiful sounds she’d pulled from him last night.

“Wasn’t - ah, fuck,” the Deputy choked, not anticipating the Baptist’s impatience when he dipped his head to kiss her neck, arms coiling tight around her waist, “Wasn’t a mistake.”

"Fuck no." John moaned against her throat, tongue barely darting out to taste her skin. “Won’t hit me this time?”

“Not this time.”

He pulled back then, leaving a half inch of aching dead space between them. Swallowing back a pant and looking at her directly. Like he was weighing up every possible pro and con about this scenario. Cora stilled, trading hesitation with the man, sobering for all but a few fearful seconds.

“If you don’t-”

“Don’t.” John breathed. “Just let me commit this to memory.”

“I mean it.”

“Deputy, you have no idea - how many times I’ve -...how much damage this could do."

Cora shifted under his gaze, searching impatiently to find which direction his resolve would fall. "I can keep a secret."

Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, breaking through apprehension.

“You want this.” She murmured.

“God, yes.”

He kissed her deeply, holding her steady through the shiver sent through her as his tongue slid across her bottom lip. Then, as soon as it felt like they were picking back up where they’d left off, he pulled back again. The grin he flashed at her frustration pulled a little noise of protest out of the blonde, and when she chased his mouth, he held her still.

“For the sake of being on the same page,” He began, “you do, too, right?.”

What a ridiculous assertion. What kind of answer was he hoping to gain from that? He already had her consent; did he really need the pride of knowing how badly she wanted this too? It wasn’t even something she’d actively considered, anyway. She’d have to think about-

“Yeah.” Cora breathed, ragged. “Yes.”

John settled into a more comfortable smile, and while the eye contact wasn’t something she could uphold for long, Cora mirrored the expression.

Then, a sigh rolled out of the Baptist. “Thank fucking Christ.”

She didn’t have time to chuckle at that.

His mouth was back on her in a instant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What’d I tell you?” Jess hissed, looking Sharky up and down while she waded toward him through torn up asphalt and cement debris. “What’d I tell you about making a fucking idiot of yourself?”

Sharky traded a look with Hurk at that. The man was nearly unrecognizable from all the dust clinging to him.

“I thought we did pretty good.” The arsonist defended.

“The town’s half blown-up, dipshit.”

“We did real  good.” Hurk weighed in.

He wasn’t wrong. They didn’t even kill nobody they weren’t supposed to. There’d been bumps in the road, sure, but all in all, things hadn’t been a total disaster. Once you translated that into the kind of situation they were in, total disaster  was actually kind of...well, awesome. Especially once the Cougars had arrived.

Sharky hadn’t heard word from over East since they’d left, but things must’ve been mighty fucking boring up there at the County Jail for a whole fucking convoy to come charging through town.

He’d never seen so many baseball jerseys in one place, let alone jerseys toting assault rifles.

There wasn’t any chasing leftover Peggies out of town once they’d shown up. It was a purge so quick and so direct that the blonde understood a little better why Shorty had been so pissed about not getting the extra help earlier.

Everyone had found their way back to each other pretty quick once the chaos had died down. As luck would have it, Kim had been walking Boomer when Eden’s Gate had arrived. She’d managed to get a couple of the general store clerks to safety and found a cattle shed to wait out the fight about a mile up the road.

It might’ve been the adrenaline getting him going, but Sharky could’ve sworn her tits were even bigger than yesterday.

Grace and Mary May reunited quick, but disappointingly did not  start making out. Instead, they helped Kim cart Nick and Pastor Jerome off to Dr. Lindsey.

After they’d rounded up any remaining hostages, the team made their way back to Sharky as the stand-in replacement for the Deputy. That part didn’t surprise him. He was  best mate, after all...after the dog, at least. The part that did surprise him was that the Cougars seemed to do that same.

Tracey surveyed the wreckage on her way toward the group with Sheriff Whitehorse and that tight-lipped Marshal in-tow.

“Jerome says Stammos got carted out with John’s people.” The woman announced. “They took the road down to the airport.”

“Then unless they’re plannin’ on looping back around, they’re probably headed to the ranch.” Adelaide replied.

“Probably a smart move after last time.” Hurk added.

The Sheriff inclined his head, incredulous. “Last time?”

“Long story.”

Sharky watched the disappointment pass over Whitehorse’s face. Must’ve felt shitty; losing all of his employees to the cult.

“I tried chasin’ ‘em down, Sheriff.” He said.

“And given how you’re dressed, Boshaw, it’s no surprise they were so quick to leave.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jess asked.

Tracey was already turning back around, headed for the truck she’d arrived in. “We keep liberating.” She answered. “Stammos called us to take back the valley, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“John’s ranch is almost the Southernmost point before the border.” Whitehorse elaborated. “If we do everything right, he won’t have many friends left to help him cross it once he gets word of us coming.”

“Sounds like the same plan as last time.” Adelaide commented.

“No stone unturned.” He affirmed. “Same as last time. Take care of John the same way we took care of Faith and bring our girls home.”

The Marshal, however, didn’t look as happy about that option. Dude always hated taking the long way around. “And what if John’s taken care of your Deputy before we get there?”

Sharky exchanged a look with the others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John’s fingers tangled in Cora's hair, hurriedly tugging out the damp tie and wincing when a caught snag caused the Deputy to hiss. “Sorry. Sorry.” He muttered, breathless.

“You’re - you’re certain this is okay.” She huffed against him. If there was any acknowledgement of the apology on her part, it was only in how she clawed at his vest, dragging his mouth back to hers.

“Not at all.”

“What about your -” A gasp briefly did the trick of silencing her, but then: “What about your brothers-”

“Please don’t mention my brothers right now.” John whined.

Cora eyed him. “Door’s locked?”

John stifled a chuckle at that. “No, why would it be?”

Cora eyed him dangerously.

“I’m kidding." He defended. "What, you think I let people walk in and out of here unannounced?"

“Fucking prick.”

“Obviously, I’m kidding. You’re a-aaah…” His retort dwindled when the blonde’s hands slid down his front, stopping short of the hem of his vest and creeping back up to his collar again. He pulled back to glare. “A captive.”

“And you’re sensitive.” She replied, simply.

“7 years is a long time.” John’s own hands fell from her hair, slipping down her sides until she couldn’t feel them anymore. “Not sure how much I can...handle.” That last phrase came cautiously. Awkwardly.

The blonde’s fingers traced back down while she listened, more quizzical than apprehensive at the warning.

To her, that sounded more like a challenge.

"What."  John grunted at the smirk that played on her lips.

"Just the audacity of you asking for mercy."

A shiver worked its way out of him when she went lower, ghosting over his hips and then back up again. Deliberately avoiding the ever-insistent graze of an erection against her stomach, sporadically tensing against denim confinement whenever her hands got close. Every reminder of it sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Seriously-”

“Mr. Seed, either we carry on like this, or you fuck me. Right now.” The Deputy spoke low, watching the Baptist’s pupils dilate more with each word. “Either way, we’ll find out how much you can handle, but 3 years is also a long time. I’d hate for only one of us to break a streak.”

John stared, dumbfounded.

Then, his hands reappeared, tugging around her waist, wrenching her up and onto the countertop. Her wasted no time pushing her knees apart, drawing near enough between her legs that she could reach for his belt, but not close enough that she could find the friction she was looking for. His fingers pawed her thighs, then gripped hard when her fingertips ghosted over the bulge that impatiently jutted between them.

“Ah. Shit.” He shuddered, folding down to balance his forehead in the crook of her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Cora found that she liked the idea of that. Ten times the amount of experience she had, and yet here he was, barely functional.

She pressed her palm against him, content with the hitch in his breath and the little jerk of his hips. A responding, dulled twitch pressed back. Through the obstruction of clothing, it was impossible to get a sense of him, but biology didn’t discriminate. She wanted him in her.

“Doing good.” Cora murmured against John’s temple, running her fingers through his hair in reassurance while his dug into her thighs in a vice grip.

“So good.” He choked when she slowly began to move back and forth. “So - so good. Feels - ah, fuck - let me -“

Maybe a little too quickly, Cora pulled herself closer to the edge of the counter, tugging John’s unbandaged hand further up her thigh and hoping he’d get the message while she busied herself with his belt.

She knew his smirk too well to mistake it for anything else when she felt him hum against her throat.

John straightened, pulling Cora’s attention back up to him. Lo and behold, he was looking as arrogant as ever; as if he hadn’t just been whining at her mercy. “Deputy, have a little patience.”

“After all that ranting about giving, you sure are selfish.”

“Oh, so you were listening.” He grinned, tracing a thumb back and forth over the junction of her hip. “Tell me, what happened to my little ranger who loved to play by the rules?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hurry up.”

John flinched when Cora’s hand shoved beneath his still-fastened pants, palming him through his underwear. He managed to hold strong, though, even if his voice near-cracked. “Or what?”

“Or John Seed’s gonna come in his pants.”

Again, he twitched in her grasp, but his movement remained torturously slow.

Realisation hit the Deputy at his resistance.

He was getting a kick out of this.

He was testing her.

“How crazy does it drive you, not having total, complete control?" He asked. His thumb reached the seam of her pants, almost too light to feel. She still throbbed all the same.

"You're an asshole." Cora growled.

“You know, I always suspected you got off on that.”

“Evidence suggests it might be the other way around.”

“Answer me, Deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll do just that if you don’t cooperate.” John tutted at her frustrated ineptitude at deciphering his belt buckle. “Are you really in a position to be calling the shots?”

Cora stopped to consider that, locking to his gaze with a scowl. Why did every interaction with him have to feel like a chess game?

Fine.

Not breaking eye contact, Cora simply pulled her sweater over her head in response.

John’s gaze broke immediately. He tried to recover, but the damage was done. There was no picking his composure back up after the attitude slid from his face and left him with nothing but prying eyes and a slackened jaw.

“Well,” He croaked, “when you put it that way…”

“Help me with this.” Cora urged, still tugging at his belt. He acquiesced immediately, although with the two of them hastily fumbling with the same mechanism, the extra help wasn’t much better. John swore under his breath, pulling out of Cora’s reach while she clicked her tongue. “Does that thing double as a chastity belt?”

“It’s not my fault we have a single functional hand between us.”

“You stabbed me first.”

“For God’s sake - fuck - got it.”  John sighed, finally unbuckling the monstrosity, rushing back to the blonde’s reach. She dealt with her own belt while he hurried with his jeans, tattooed fingers shaking. The moment he’d succeeded, his hands flew to her waist, revering bare skin and savouring her impatience for him to touch her where she wanted to be touched.

She would have cussed him out, had his teeth not grazed her lip, refreshing the taste of him with his tongue slipping into her mouth - right as his left hand wriggled it way into her pants and pressed.

Cora saw white for a second. Untouched nerves awakening in a frenzy that had her gasping into that bastard’s mouth. Jesus, she could feel  the grin on his face.

“Hm. Hypocrite.” Came the reminder, followed by a strangled noise when her fingers enclosed around his cock; separated still by underwear, but gripping him all the same. His body shoved against her, crushing their arms between them in the attempt to find his way closer - to find more. “Ah - shit. Careful-”

A knock from beyond the kitchen sent a collective jolt through both of them, and John’s head whipped around in a panic.

“W-...what is it?!” He called, voice cracking.

“John, have you got a minute?” A deeper voice Cora didn’t recognise responded from outside.

“Doubt I’ve got more than ten seconds.” The Baptist hissed to himself. “I recall saying emergencies only! Ask yourself - is this something I need to find John for, or can I find my own way?”

Christ. He spoke to his followers the same way she spoke to hers.

“O-okay. Sorry.”

John didn’t reply. He simply turned his attention straight back to Cora, stroking up and down along the material of her underwear. His cock twitched impatiently in her hand, at odds with his leisurely pace. “You’re soaked through.” He taunted, but the tremor in his voice delivered it as a revelation.

Cora’s brow furrowed. She stroked once, sweeping her thumb over the head of him. “Speak for yourself, Baptist.”

A grunt sounded from the man. His hands moved quickly, yanking her to the edge of the counter and gripping at her pants. Tugging the material down and off her legs while he dropped to his knees on the floorboards. The Deputy’s initial instinct to draw herself together and hide from scrutiny was jarred by the way the Baptist gaped between her legs. Like closing them would be some cruel disservice to him. So, she let him stare. Held still while he drew close, dotting a kiss to her knee and shivering when his beard skimmed her inner thigh.

“Thank you for wearing white.” John murmured, stroking a careful thumb over the cotton, leaving only aching want in his wake.

“That a religious thing?” She tried not to croak, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in this circumstance. Just...thought about it.”

“Oh. You just - casually speculated on the colour of my underwear.”

“Something like that.” He continued the action. Back and forth. Up and down. Trying to find the same spot as earlier. For all his enthusiasm, however, he was still out of practice and just as impatient as she was. He’d draw close, but any hitch in her breath pulled his gaze up to her face, searching for praise and losing his place in the process.

When his mouth suddenly descended upon her, though, fingers giving up their place to yank the material to the side and grant him direct access, the Deputy found herself uncomfortably on the complete other end of the spectrum. From not enough, to way, way too much. A squeak shot out of Cora, and her legs clamped shut on John’s skull just as her fingers gripped his hair in an attempt to pry him away from her. Both actions earned a separate “Ow,” from the man.

John pouted up at her. “What?”

“Stand up.” “I like where I am right now.” He protested. “You’re not shy,  are you? I want  to-”

Cora tugged at him anyway. “I don’t want you to practice on me. I want you to fuck me.”

John blinked. “Okay - not shy.” He pulled himself back to a stand, averting his gaze while she guided his hips back between her legs. “I’m - er - it’s just…-”

He bit back a resigned curse when her fingers circled his erection once again, passing over the noticeable slick of precum on strained cotton.

“Just what?”

“I'd like you to - enjoy it." The admission came. "And I’m not going to last.”

“Good. I'll enjoy that just fine.” Cora replied, earning a questioning look. “Won’t look so smug anymore when you’re coming in record time.”

John's expression darkened at the challenge, but his hands shook as they swatted her away, struggling to manoeuvre the fly of his underwear into just  the right position.

Anger was still the quickest way to get through to him.

“Just you wait." He warned. "I’ll-“

She cut him off with a kiss, pulling his hips against her, and his threats evaporated. They were pressed too close for her to see, but his cock grazed the hem of her underwear, finally pulled free. Then, John’s fingers hooked around the material, pulling it to one side.

The Baptist held her gaze, brow upturned like he was worried.

Was he nervous?

“Ready?” He asked.

He looked...kind of pretty like this. Pupils blown. Lips a little swollen. Hair all messed up. Eye-contact wasn't so uncomfortable when he looked this wrecked.

She nodded. "Yeah." The pitch of his gasp matched hers when the head of him slid with dangerous ease along the wetness of her cunt. All she could focus on was the heat of him. The blunt press, drawing closer and closer to her entrance until he was finally lined up. The ache of resisting muscles and relieved nerve-endings when he pushed forward, torturously slow, concentration and bliss fighting for equal real estate on his face, and okay,  he was exceptionally pretty like this.

A tiny little 'fuck'  crept out of John when Cora sighed at the feeling, insistently encouraging, tugging. She needed more. It wasn't fair. Didn't fucking matter how long for; she just needed to feel him. All of him.

Then, when he was barely two inches in, another knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor.

“John? I spoke to Andy. He says it’s an emergency.”

John froze. Then, his eyes scrunched shut in a long-suffering grimace, and once again, his forehead dropped to Cora’s shoulder. Frustration radiated from him, infecting her within moments.

"Has he been out there the whole time?" She grunted.

"Christ." The Baptist sounded almost amused at that. He pulled back to offer a half-smile.

He had to investigate.

Cora, meanwhile, had no patience for his imminent departure. Her legs locked against his hips, but he was gently prying himself away already, muttering repeated, gasped apologies at her protests.

“I’ll be right there!” He called back, already resetting his belt. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you kidding?” Cora hissed, sliding down from the counter.

“I’ll be 30 seconds. I swear. Then we can - we can go upstairs, and we can stay  there. Emergency or not.” John assured her, punctuating his words with kisses wherever he could land them while she struggled to multitask between receiving and yanking her pants back on. Then, he pulled away completely, stumbling out of the kitchen on visibly shaky legs.

Cora took a moment to silently lament before heading back out into the foyer, buckling her belt while she surveyed the space in an attempt to distract herself from impotent fucking rage.

John murmured away with someone outside, half-visible through the gap he’d left in the door. His arms had crossed, but with his back to her, she couldn’t discern his mood any further.

Nonetheless, her concern grew, and when the man said his goodbyes with a nod and entered the building once more, the Deputy found it had good reason to.

John passed through the room, not sparing her a glance. He snatched the radio he’d abandoned on the coffee table, but to her fleeting relief, simply clipped it onto his belt and moved on.

He’d turned pale.

“Hey.” Cora frowned, following him to the trophy cabinet where he began rifling through memorabilia. “What’s going on?”

“We have to leave.” He muttered, unboxing a small case. It rattled as he shook the content into his hand. 38 Specials, most making it to his back pocket, some clinking to the floor, forgotten when he moved on to withdraw his revolver and tucked it into the back of his pants. “Now.”

John continued hurrying about with Cora hot on his heels, unable to really do anything but watch him build a collection of valuables on the dining table. His coat. His keys. A particularly raggedy old bible. He made some effort to conceal the zip-lock bag he pulled from behind the décor on the mantle; definitely the source of the odour that permeated the foyer.

They traded a look - critical on Cora’s part, and John rolled his jaw while he shoved it out of sight, irritated. Perhaps embarrassed.

“Did you know?” He huffed.

“Mr. Seed, I studied in Colorado. I know what a half-bag looks like.”

“Did you know about the Cougars?” John’s voice hardened. “According to the Chosen, there’s one hell of a convoy inbound from the North. Did you know?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Oh. Fuck.” Cora noted, still too dazed to even bother lying. “I called them in.”

They actually came?

“Wonderful.” John had stopped to run a hand through his hair. “Truly. Thank you.”

“Well sure, but I don’t see what good they’re gonna do you. They’re probably here to-”

“Sarcasm, Cora.”

“That makes more sense."

John started to pace, then, relenting. Dispersing his temper. He tugged the radio from his belt, holding it to his chin. “Joseph, for God’s sake, come in.”

Half a minute passed by. The little curses under John’s breath became more punctuated until his patience thinned. He angled the dial, and then stopped. Examining the station he’d been using, incredulous.

His gaze flickered to her for a split-second, eyes narrowing, and Cora’s stomach coiled.

Shit.

He knew.

She winced while the Baptist strode past her, anticipating his approach to the phone, investigating an absent dial tone and her now-obvious tampering. He turned the machine over, holding up the ruined cord for her to see.

"Your handiwork, Deputy?" The smile that spread over his face was sharp as ever. The mask was back on.

Perhaps this hadn't been her best plan.

She should've let him go down on her when she had the chance.

[historic-old-guard-lover]

ok, I am curious to hear your gold-digger-Nicky headcannons.

TL;DR: it’s mostly a joke about how Joe was wealthy and Nicky would have been a very broke feral garbage cat by the time they meet, so who wouldn’t become enamored with the man who buys you soap and fruit?

Nicky probably didn't expect to come back from the crusades, right? For context, before the nobles of Europe gathered up real armies, a “People’s Crusade” of at least 20,000 peasants marched around Europe (murdering Jewish German people along the way) before being absolutely slaughtered by the Turkish military once they actually got to Anatolia. Possibly around 60,000 people died and only a few thousand survived. It’s only after this harrowing defeat that main part of the First Crusade aka the Prince’s Crusade sets sail for the Levant.

Horses, good armor, and a solid sword were not cheap. Unless he came from a very wealthy family that decided to financially support this decision (read: suicide via righteousness), he needed to raise some serious funds. He probably drained his “savings” and got a little help from the monastery/parish or noble patrons. He left for the crusade having converted all his wealth to belongings. Horses dies. Clothing gets ruined after being stabbed one too many times. Armor breaks. I’m sure he was going into it all thinking “God will provide,” but last time I checked he doesn’t drop gold dinars from the heavens. If Nicky was crusading for significant amount of time, he was broke. (He didn’t need to BUY from markets because the armies were just looting whenever they won.) And call me a softie, but I don’t see him robbing dead bodies for a few coins.

On the other hand, there’s Yusuf. We know he’s from a merchant family and I like to assume that they were good at what they did. He has access to the banking system of the Islamic Caliphate. He has wealth. However a Maghrebi merchant ends up fighting for the Fatimids at the siege of Jerusalem, the boy has bank. Heck, he might have even carried a coin purse on him just in case (and if you cannon that he was there for trade and stayed out of a sense of duty, he definitely has a coin purse).

They fight. They kill each other. Jerusalem falls to the crusaders. They leave. At some point you’ve got this gold-carrying merchant travelling with this half-starved possible-cannibal unwashed invader. I mean, how could Yusuf not feed him and give him a bath (well, the tools for it at least)? That’s what any good Muslim would do for the feral garbage cat that wanders into his life. Nicolo probably hasn’t seen money in YEARS since he joined the army and now this man is just lavishing him with luxuries? (The soap is for both of them, but it’s soap! Nicky might not have seen good soap in years or at least many months!) Nicky is totally fine letting Yusuf pay for things until they start earning money doing small tasks, at which point Nicolo starts paying his own way...mostly. He’s certainly not going to stop Yusuf from buying them quality soap and fresh fruit (he’s a merchant, you think he buys the cheap stuff? please) because who doesn’t want little pleasures in life? When presented the chance to split up, Nicky decides to stay because this man will buy him pomegranates (okay, he buys them for himself and he’ll share because he has manners which is the same thing in the end).

At some point they get into a relationship and they’re reminiscing. Joe asks something along the lines of when did you first know? and Nicky is like when you bought me soap and I realized you had actual money on you and I wasn’t going to starve to death again and the Joe laughs and goes no, really? when did you know? and Nicky thinks for a second and replies okay, it was definitely by the time you bought me a whole pomegranate in Cairo and Joe’s like be serious and Nicky’s like well, you also bought that frankincense-scented soap and paid for me to come to the bath-house with you and so forth and so on. Gold-Digger Nicky with his Sugar Daddy Joe.

[nevermindirah]

Based on the sundae game made by raevenlywrites on Tumblr, what would the members of the family pick ?

hi anon! I don't know what the sundae game is, maybe you meant to send this to someone else?

just for giggles, here's what I think the Old Guard characters would like in ice cream sundaes:

Andy: baklava-inspired sundae is the obvious choice, and many other choices would no doubt also please Andy but you can't go wrong with the classic flavor combination! pistachio or maybe just sweet cream ice cream, pomegranate bits, honey and rose water drizzle, flaky pastry crumbles, toasted walnuts, maybe halva chunks just for fun!

Quynh: ice cream is brand new to Quynh!! I think she'd want baby scoops of a bunch of different flavors, a sundae that's basically like a 24-pack of tiny ice cream scoops with toppings on the side so she can try lots of new tastes and combinations

Lykon: apropos of absolutely nothing I think Lykon would love mint chocolate chip ice cream, and he'd fish out the chocolate chips so he could chew them up all at once after finishing the ice cream

Joe: I think Joe would love a really good but simple vanilla ice cream with all the toppings. just like, every topping imaginable. caramel sauce, 5 different kinds of chocolate, crumbled cookie bits, sprinkles, gumdrops, kiwi slices, blackberry compote, maybe a little orange zest just because he can

Nicky: Nicky prefers his ice cream in a cone rather than as a sundae for unspecified Joe-related reasons 😏

Booker: someone please take Booker to the froyo shop in The Good Place and buy him an enormous tub of strawberry and Everything's Going to Be Okay flavor swirl. it tastes vaguely of lavender and helps him get up the courage to go to therapy

Nile: in her mortal life, Nile had on occasion been treated to the magic that is a sundae bar. she may or may not have thrown up after getting too ambitious with the number of Reese's Pieces she tried to wedge in between banana slices and Twizzlers and chocolate syrup and oh yeah the scoops of choc-van-straw ice cream at a church event when she was like 7. now that she's grown, and especially now that she's immortal, she thinks every sundae is a new opportunity to make something sugary as hell, sure, but more importantly, delicious and aesthetically pleasing! a little bit of restraint goes a long way and now she has such a long time to create endless different combinations!

well anon, this really got away from me, no idea if what I just blurted out had anything to do with your original intention but it's here now for you and/or others to enjoy!

[maymyheartbmyguidingkey]

aren’t we a nice pear

you can blame @duelistkingdom​ for this, not me

Yugi was quickly learning that certain fruits may have been tough to come by during the 18th dynasty - if not non-existent.

His first clue was when he brought a coconut back to the apartment, intending to make his famous coconut curry and sticky rice.

Atem had peeked into his grocery bags, adorably curious (Sugoroku had always done the grocery shopping, and rarely did he ever obtain fresh fruits), and had gasped dramatically, startling Yugi so badly he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"What? What's wrong? I swear to god, if I broke the eggs -"

But when Yugi swivelled to survey the damage, he found instead Atem holding a coconut aloft, reverently.

His shoulders fell.

"A coconut," Atem hissed. "When father would return from his diplomatic travels he would near always bring coconuts. The juice was divine."

Yugi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and returned to putting away their groceries. "You almost gave me a heart attack over a coconut. What, were they not very popular in your time?"

Atem was silent for long enough that Yugi knew: if he looked back at him right now, he'd be met with an unfairly incredulous stare.

So Yugi turned to him, face resolutely deadpan, finding his prediction entirely correct.

"Yugi, my partner, light of my life -"

Yugi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"- coconuts were an import," Atem said, like it was especially important, clutching the coconut to his chest as if it were a wounded animal. "Only the fabulously wealthy -" he pantomimed tossing hair over his shoulder, "could possibly afford such a luxury good."

Yugi snorted, finding the eggs (thankfully, in good shape) and placing them delicately in their designated spot in the fridge.

"Well you were fabulously wealthy, O dearest Pharaoh, so why are you clinging to it like a starving man?"

"Because coconuts are - what is it Jou always says? It is the most ridiculous - oh yes - lit."

Yugi froze, eyes squeezed shut. "Atem. My world. Dearest heart. Never say that again."

But then his brain buffered. Wait a damn minute -

Eyes comically wide, Yugi said, "Wait. Atem. What kind of fruit did you have?"

Atem pursed his lips, tossing the coconut from hand to hand, resting his elbows on the quartz island between them. "Grapes. I rather liked those. Oh - figs, though I found them too sweet. Nabk -"

“Atem,” Yugi pressed, suddenly desperate, “what’s a strawberry?”

Atem blinked, confused as to how and why the tone of their conversation shifted. “I... suppose I'm not quite sure? When you say the word, an image crops up, but I have not the faintest -”

Yugi was already grabbing his keys. “I'm going back to the store.”

“What on Earth -”

“I’ve been craving cherries anyway. Oh my god, and pomegran - no, wait, you guys had those, right? Pretty sure that was an 8th dynasty thing. Peaches! Pineapple? Holy - I need to learn how to slice a pineapple -”

“Yugi, my love, what is happening right now?”

“Oh, I’m so stupid,” Yugi scoffed, taking Atem by the hand, who squawked indignantly at his self-insult. He dragged Atem hurriedly to the front door, fumbling to slip on his shoes with only one hand. “You can just come with me.”

“Call yourself stupid one more time. I have hands now, Yugi. I can smack you.”

“Why, what better for me to kiss, my dear?” Yugi said, throwing his pharaoh a sly smirk, raising Atem’s knuckles to his lips. Atem’s face flushed a pretty red, and he stared pointedly down at his own backless loafers, grumpily slipping them on.

“Cheeky,” he mumbled, sounding secretly pleased.

☆

“Yugi. Where... what is this place?”

Yugi sent him a bright grin, squeezing Atem's hand where he held it in his jacket pocket. “This, O mighty Pharaoh, is the grocery store.”

Atem gawked at the various signage as Yugi dragged him to the cart well, snatching up a handbasket and promptly making a beeline for the produce section.

“Wait, wait, was that - was that a massive cart to wheel your groceries about in?” Atem asked, incredulous. “How affluent must you be to fill one of those?”

Yugi snorted. “I can't believe I never once brought you to a grocery store. Goes to show how often those lunches from 7/11 saved my life in high school.”

“Oh,” Atem said, staring at the wall of colorful greeting cards as they passed. “Well, this is delightful. It's much like the market, just. Indoors. And with fluorescent lighting.”

“Yeah, you get it,” Yugi encouraged, leaning over to kiss Atem’s temple firmly. “C'mon, this way.”

The produce section was lush today, what with it being a random Thursday afternoon, and Atem was already spotting things he had never seen before but knew the names of (thanks to the brain of a certain now-adult who he had often possessed when he was nothing but a no-name disembodied spirit).

“There! The - what was the word? - strawberries,” he chirped. “What kind of name is that, by the way?”

Yugi squeezed his hand twice, their mutual sign for it’s okay, grab it, holding the basket within Atem’s reach. “Says the guy with nabk. Throw ‘em in there, hot stuff.”

“The -” Atem blanched, holding up a packet of strawberries, confused. “All of them?”

Yugi raised his eyebrows. “Yes? What, you want me to open it and pluck out a single strawberry?”

“Well - wouldn’t - isn’t the whole thing expensive? They seem like they would be expensive.”

“Oh, no,” Yugi slid the basket to the crook of his elbow, swiping up a packet himself and giving the label a read. “Strawberries are one of Japan's biggest exports. Oooh, and I love amaou variety. Perfect for your first try.”

He gently took the packet from a stunned Atem’s hand and dropped both into the basket. Atem sputtered.

“That is - you can just, buy fruit en masse? Affordably?”

Yugi laughed quietly, spotting the pineapples and leading Atem toward them. “Maybe not as cheaply as in other places - we kind of have a thing for designer fruit here. But these packs are only ¥500 each.”

“Only how mu - oh my land, those are horrifying.”

“Yeah, if you’re not used to them, they’re pretty freaky,” Yugi acquiesced, reaching for a piece of the spiky fruit - only for Atem to slap his hand away.

Yugi whipped around to stare at him, bewildered. The look on Atem’s face wouldn’t be out of place beside the dictionary definition of appalled.

“My Yugi will most certainly not be touching the pointy death fruit!” he hissed, gesturing violently toward the pineapples, like his reaction was obvious. “I used to inhabit that body, you know.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a firm line, trying desperately not to burst into laughter.

“Atem. Pharaoh of my heart. My angel,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I love you so much. Just - watch this.”

And Yugi - while giving Atem a pointed, amused look - reached again for a pineapple, easily picking one from its perch by its uninviting body.

Atem, perplexed, brows raised in astonishment, stammered. “But - it - you -”

Yugi offered it to him. “It's not a cactus. Its bark is worse than its bite.”

Atem hesitated, but Yugi patiently held the pineapple toward him, nodding encouragingly when Atem met his eyes doubtfully.

And so Atem took it in his elegant, princely hands, brows furrowed in confusion when it did not, in fact, slice him to ribbons.

“But... it looks so evil.”

“Right? But it’s only poke-y. Honestly I just wanna meet the guy who saw one for the first time and immediately thought, “hey, I’m gonna crack this shit open and give it a taste”.”

☆

Yugi created a monster.

They had picked out a few more things for Atem to try, including the promised cherries and peaches (Atem giving a smug “now that is more like it” when he saw the peaches priced at two for ¥1990), but also some things that yugi had realized he took completely for granted: blueberries, kiwis - bananas. God, bananas.

Atem had also discovered that coconut water was sold by itself, in convenient single portions, and had happily trotted off to the self-checkout counter with a case of six, an endeared Yugi in tow.

It had been a week since that fateful day.

Atem sat on their cute little cream loveseat, newly-acquired and much-needed reading glasses on his nose and feet propped up on the matching ottoman, his current read in his lap. He held one of Yugi's many reusable water bottles in his hand, half-full with coconut water, blueberries, strawberries and ice floating prettily at the top. His bottle-holding arm was curled protectively around a bowl precariously perched on the arm rest, where he kept his (perfectly sliced) pineapple rings.

"Living in the lap of luxury, I see," Yugi said, plopping down beside Atem and draping himself directly atop the open book. He gazed up at his boyfriend, mischievous. "Lavish attention upon me as you do your precious books and fruits, O great Pharaoh."

Atem rolled his eyes, plucking a ring of pineapple from the bowl and tearing it in half. Yugi opened his mouth expectantly.

"Who said this was for you?" Atem snorted, popping one half in his mouth. "This is the last of it and you are a brat."

Yugi, as per usual, pouted to get his way. Atem, as per usual, was unable to resist said pout, huffing and presenting Yugi with the other half.

"A brat maybe, but loved by you nonetheless," he cheeked as he chewed.

"Exhibit A. Eat with your mouth closed; you are in the presence of royalty," atem said. "And sit properly, for goodness sake - you'll choke, and I refuse to have that on my conscience."

And sit properly Yugi did - mostly. He slung himself over Atem's shoulders, muttering into his neck, "You know, that's the third pineapple you've -"

"Ananas."

Yugi scoffed. Ever since Atem had Googled the Arabic name for the fruit (an adventure in it's own right), he refused to use anything else.

"Yes, ananas, yet somehow I’m the brat here," Yugi continued, "point being: it's the third one you've decimated this week. We just ran out of bananas, and I think that was the last pack of strawberries, too. I'm gonna go broke."

"This is fine. We can subsist off of fruit alone."

Yugi leaned back and stared into Atem's face, who had gone back to reading his book, unfazed. "You can subsist off of fruit alone. I need meat. Protein."

Atem pulled off his glasses and slapped the book shut, giving Yugi the most skeptical look he’d ever seen. "Yugi. You are a waif."

"Hey! No body-shaming here!" Yugi protested, pulling his legs up and into Atem's lap, again smothering the book. "All the more reason for me to have meat in my diet! I won't survive."

"You know, I used that miraculous thing - Google - and it told me that meat is actually quite bad for you. Did you know that humans only evolved to eat it because -"

Yugi groaned, stuffing his face back into the crook of Atem's neck, his next words muffled. "Google made my boyfriend health-conscious and now I can't have bacon. I'm sending corporate a strongly-worded email."

Atem's quiet laughter was like warm sunshine, and Yugi basked in it, the tell tale thunk of his water bottle being set on the side table music to his ears, as Atem could only be freeing his hand for one reason. He began to stroke Yugi's hair, and if Yugi could purr, the sound of it would reverberate through the entire apartment building.

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft sounds of their chewing as they polish off the pineapple rings, Atem more than happy to continue feeding Yugi pieces.

"I may joke around," Yugi finally whispered, like they were the only two who existed in the universe, "but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'd sell my kidney to buy you whatever you wanted."

Yugi felt a puff of a laugh against the crown of his head; the press of Atem's lips. "No need to go to such extremities, precious one. You are all I would ever wish for."

[stardew-goblin]

why their favourite items are their favourite items for the bachelorettes? you can just pick one item if you like

OH I’ve been thinking about this since I started playing! I tried to do the things that aren’t as commonly thought about as favorites. I hope you enjoy! Thank you ily <3

HA so after doing all of the bachelors I re-read and realized it was only an ask for the bachelorettes SO you get both now hehe

Sebastian

Favorite thing: Pumpkin soup

His dad left them in the fall which is why he has an aversion to most of the autumn seasonal flavors

He was really attached to his dad as a baby so when he abandoned them it hurt Sebastian really badly

The one thing he can’t seem to stay away from is pumpkin soup though

Robin actually has cooked it since he can remember

It was his dads favorite too

It brings back the good memories he has from when his parents were together

Robin only makes it when Maru and Demetrius are out together doing sciency things

They sit on the couch together and watch old movies and bond while they eat it but Robin keeps it a secret because she knows he doesn’t like to come across as a softie

She’ll also make him some if she knows he’s particularly down. She’ll just run it down to his room, kiss him on the forehead, remind him that she’s always there if he needs to talk, and leaves him be

Sam

Favorite thing: Tigerseye

Before Kent could afford the mermaid pendant for Jodi, his mom gave him an old tigerseye ring to propose with

Sam always though it was more romantic than a stupid mermaid pendant (basic, duh)

He used to sit on his grandma’s lap as a kid and she would tell him all about his grandpa who died before Sam was born

He was poor, too, when they got married and he managed to trade some manual labor for the ring

It always reminds him of his family and how much he loves them

100% will propose with a tigerseye ring instead of a mermaid pendant

Harvey

Favorite thing: Coffee

Started drinking coffee in middle school

His grandma would always brew a pot while he was over and they would sit and chat about life

The smell of coffee always reminds him of her

He still makes it how she would make it for him. 2 spoonfuls of sugar. That’s it.

He regularly uses the coffee cup he would always use at her house

It has ducks on it with blue trim

Every year on the anniversary of her death he’ll bring a thermos and two cups and sit at her grave and drink coffee and talk about how life is going

He misses his grandma very much

Elliott

Favorite thing: Pomegranate

He knew Leah before he moved to the valley

They’ve been best friends for years

He gets sick a lot and tends to forget to take care of himself sometimes

Leah has always made sure he was okay

She would bring him fruits and soup and make sure he was staying hydrated

One day she brought a few pomegranates

How the fUCK do you eat a pomegranate ??

Leah help me please for the love Yoba what is this weird ass fruit you’ve brought to me on my death bed

Once he actually ate some though, he could not get enough.

It was the first thing he could actually taste in days and it was so sweet and flavorful

He will not buy his own pomegranates though.

It has to be a gift or it’s not the same

Shane

Favorite thing: Hot pepper

Used to struggle with really bad anxiety

He would disassociate a lot

Struggled with mental grounding techniques

So one day is dad was like

Here son

Bite into this hot ass pepper

It was so spicy that it snapped Shane back into reality

He used to keep a ziplock bag of hot peppers in his pocket

Sometimes will still bite into one if he’s particularly going through it

One time gave Sam one at work and told him it wasn’t spicy

Sam cried in the bathroom for 20 minutes

Now Shane has to keep his waterbottles with him at all times because Sam puts weird stuff in them as payback

Alex

Favorite thing: complete breakfast

Alex never wanted to leave his room after his mom died

He would cry himself to sleep every night

He refused to eat with his grandparents

Evelyn would make him hashbrowns, eggs, and pancakes with a side of milk every morning

And would leave it in his room for him to eat when he was hungry

And would always stick a note on the tray reading “breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I love you always. Grandma.”

She never pressured him to do something he didn’t want to do

But ALWAYS reminded him that he was loved

Complete breakfast reminds him that Evelyn loves him no matter what

It will always feel like a warm hug

Abigail

Favorite thing: Pufferfish

When Abigail was little, Pierre and Caroline used to take her to the aquarium in Zuzu City

Her favorite was always the pufferfish

She felt like she could relate to them

Always keeping people at an arms length

Tough when she has to be

She used to collect pufferfish plushies

Does not actually eat them

She could never

But she likes how you can die from consuming them incorrectly

Kicking ass from beyond the grave

Haley

Favorite thing: Coconut

She actually likes the smell more than anything but is a sucker for coconut shavings on her desserts

She’s allergic to coconut

But it isn’t deadly

Emily used to use coconut body spray to hide the weed smell when she was in high school

Haley thought Emily was so cool

Will always remind her of when her and her sister got along better

Haley has a mean streak but is very sentimental

She’ll still tease Emily about it

Keeps a small bottle of coconut body spray in her room for when she needs to feel better

Will not admit to anyone ever about why she likes coconut so much

Penny

Favorite thing: Tom Kha Soup

Elliott actually introduced Penny to the dish

Penny and Pam had gotten into a particularly nasty argument which left Penny in tears

It was pouring but she needed out of the trailer

She went to sit on the docks to listen to the ocean until she calmed down

Elliott saw her sitting alone in the cold rain and invited her inside

He was just about to sit down for one of his favorites, Tom Kha soup, and gladly prepared a bowl for Penny

She had never been close to Elliott even though she saw him at the library often

The soup was delicious

And she was blown away by his kindness and how easily she felt comfortable talking to him

She tries to cook it (it’s terrible)

She always beings some to Elliott (he never comments on how awful it is, and politely accepts it)

(He throws it in the ocean when she’s gone though)

Emily

Favorite thing: Survival burger

Emily is a vegetarian

Her favorite food before she went vegetarian was cheeseburgers

Her first girlfriend showed her how to make burgers from eggplant

She is the one who showed Gus how to make them and season them properly to taste good

She got Haley hooked on them too

She’s lowkey one of those vegetarians that wants everyone to be a vegetarian

Her favorite recipe to show off because it really does taste like a frickin burger

Maru

Favorite thing: Rhubarb Pie

Maru really wishes that she and Sebastian were still close

As small children they did everything together

She looked up to her big brother

They used to play in the lake by their house during summers

She would always catch frogs. It was her favorite thing.

They would come into the cool house when the sun went down and lounge on the couch watching cartoons

Robin would frequently make Rhubarb pie for dessert

Maru and Sebastian loved it

They would eat it in front of the TV and joke around with each other

Rhubarb Pie still reminds her of those warm summer nights when her big brother was still her best friend

Leah

Favorite thing: stir fry

The first time she ever tried stir fry was right before she moved to the valley

Like literally her last meal in the city was stir fry from a restaurant around the corner from her old apartment

It was their only option that had mostly vegetables and oh my Yoba was it delicious

The day she moved was the most hopeful day she’s ever had in her life

New beginnings were terrifying but Leah knew everything would be okay

She always makes stir fry before she tries something she’s terrified to do

It reminds her that new things are scary but she can really do anything she puts her mind to