#and like. dear god. it's dire out here sometimes

[moreclaypigeons]

No like seriously ARE we ready to talk about the misogyny in fandom spaces

[starlessea2]

That It Is (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: After a long day trudging through the sunlit wetlands, you discover your bedroll is waterlogged, and that Astarion has lost his in the swamp... AKA, the classic: ‘oh no, there’s one bed, whatever shall we do, darling?’ (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N This one has a tad more enemies-to-lovers vibe to it, but sweetness nonetheless. 

Masterlist

Night was creeping over Faerûn.

After a day of toiling through the deep murk of the sunlit wetlands, your party had found refuge: an abandoned shack a little ways inland from the swamp. It was unassuming enough through the fog that Gale had tripped over its porch, and even Astarion’s darkvision had missed the contours of the old building tucked away. 

But once scoped, you found that the place was empty. Shadowheart deemed it safe enough for you to unpack your bedrolls and dry your waterlogged boots. So you did just that—even managing to rouse a fire with an ignis and a few pieces of damp wood. 

The flames took a few moments to blaze to life, but once they did, the warmth was heavenly on your skin. One by one, you started to shed your wet outer garments, laying them out by the fire.

“Oh, bloody hells!”

A voice rang out over the crackling hearth. You turned to find Astarion on his knees, rummaging through his supply pack half-deranged.  

He flung the contents out onto the floor: some soggy books, a cask of water, pristinely-folded clothes. Then he promptly turned the pack upside down, seemingly devestated to find nothing else inside.

The rogue threw his hands up. “Gone,” he declared, with a dejected sort of laugh. “Be it just my luck after trudging through this gods forsaken waste—”

From the corner of the room, Shadowheart stopped wringing out her gloves. She gave you a look. Deal with him, she said through the shared connection. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “What’s wrong, Astarion?” You stood over the pale elf, hand on hip, “Broken a nail?” 

Irritation painted his face, but his demeanour remained playful.“Ha! Hilarious as always, my dear,” he replied, without sparing you so much as a glance. “Alas, I’m afraid my situation is a tad more dire.” 

You clicked your tongue. “Go on.”

Astarion stood up, taking a moment to dust himself off. “It seems I’ve lost my bedroll somewhere in that bloody marsh,” he finally admitted. 

Somewhere across the room, Shadowheart’s snort was quickly covered up by a faux cough from Gale. “Oh?” you said, “I thought elves didn’t need to sleep.” 

Astarion shot you a glare. “And do you need to dry your clothes by the fire? Need to eat tonight or, gods forbid, drive us half mad with your infernal singing sometime tomorrow?” 

He stalked the cabin, pointing vivaciously at your drying garments, and menial rations you’d hoped wouldn’t spoil. 

You felt your brow furrow at his display. “No need to be rude,” you said shortly. “Today’s been hard on all of us.” Pushing past him, you quickly retrieved your own pack from its place near the door. “Here—just take mine.”

Fishing around the bag, you searched for your own bedroll before producing it for him. Astarion let out a sound of disgust. 

“You could at least try to be grateful, Astarion,” you started. Then you felt it; your trusted bedroll squelched in your hand. It was pasted with a layer of thick algae, and some other mysteries you couldn’t discern. “Son of a—” you cursed. How had you forgotten when it rolled into the marsh earlier in the day?

A hand found your shoulder. “Thanks for the generous offer, my dear, but I think I’ll pass,” Astarion said, proudly. He then flicked a rather large leech off your bedroll, causing Gale to shriek when it landed at his feet. “I’d like to remain the only bloodsucker around here.”

You were about to quip back, when Astarion stepped closer—enough so that his breath dusted your cheek when he spoke. “And I think I spy a bed in the other room. That should do me just fine.” 

It took you a moment to unravel his words. By the time you did, he’d already traipsed halfway across the cabin. “Hang on a moment,” you called after him,“I already staked my claim on that earlier!”

“Hmm?” the elf hummed, feigning ignorance.

The audacity. You shot a glance back at the wizard, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender. “Oh no, you don’t,” warned Gale, “I’m staying out of this one.”

To his left, Shadowheart looked equally unbothered by your plight. You scowled at them both. 

It was going to be a long night.

—

The cabin was quiet. It had been some time since you had rested in a place with a roof and four walls. There were no beasties lurking near your camp, or dangers beyond the trees. The only threat to your person was Gale’s snores coming from the main living space. He’d taken refuge on the floor, whilst Shadowheart seized the chaise lounge. 

It was a comfortable night. So in principle, you should have had no problem falling into a dreamless sleep. Especially given the feather bed at your back. 

“You know, my dear,” Astarion whispered, “I might have agreed to this arrangement, but that was under the condition that you get some sleep.”

You tried not to startle, but his words sounded so close to your ear. It made your skin prickle with anticipation—despite doing your utmost not to show it. 

“I think you’ll find I was the one who was forced to agree,” you countered, “and I’m trying. You just—” 

Shifting in the bed, you turned around to face the elf beside you. He was leaning on one arm, gazing up at the wooden ceiling as though he were watching the stars. His eyes found yours. “I what?” he asked. 

You could hear his grin; he was teasing you. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down now. “You make me nervous,” you answered bluntly. 

He did not reply. Each second of silence that passed made you more and more uneasy. You couldn’t see him well in the dark. And as much as you tried to make out the contours of his face, you knew for sure discern every line on yours—every expression you hoped to conceal. “And why’s that?” he finally asked.

You let out a huff before falling onto your back. “You know why. Stop acting so smug—It doesn’t suit you."

Astarion’s laugh made its way to you. “Everything suits me, darling.” 

A witty remark alluded you, so you opted to stay quiet. Sleep was what you needed right now. The gods only know how deprived you were of it.

So you plumped your pillow and made yourself comfortable. Then you gathered some blankets to yourself. A yawn left you, but your mind felt anything but relaxed. You readjusted again, this time your body pressing into Astarion's. He moved to accomodate you; you stiffened in response.

“Will you stop wriggling around? I can’t so much as move without you flinching."

At his words, your breath hitched. You were midway through an apology before he interrupted.

“Look at me,” he said.

Despite the darkness, his thumb perfectly traced your jaw until it found the space just under your chin. Gently, he coaxed your head up.

“You know I’ve drank from you, right?” You gasped at his candidness. “I've felt your pulse on my tongue and your blood coat my teeth,” he went on. “Hells, I have your thoughts swimming in my head far more often than you probably realise.”

He paused for a moment, and in that time you breathed twice as fast as you ought to.

“You’ve allowed me that much, so sleeping beside me like this?” he said, with a lightness to his voice, “that shouldn’t matter, now should it.”

You couldn't reply. His words were likely meant to comfort, but they had only the opposite effect. As his fingers brushed your cheek, you immediately pulled back—hoping he did not feel the way you burned for him.

“No. I guess not?” you stuttered.

“Good,” came his reply. “Now sleep. I promise I won’t bite” 

He returned to his side of the bed, not overstepping the invisible boundary you'd drawn earlier that evening.

And on your side, you were left to press down whatever feelings threatened to bubble to the surface. You weren’t quite ready to let them out yet—not when you couldn’t see clearly the face he would make in response.

Right now, you just needed to sleep.

So you focused on the snores echoing from the other room, the rain pattering the windows, Astarion's breaths and your heart—which, without realising, had recently started to beat for him.

“Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered into the dark.

“Yes, my dear," he said softly. "That it is."

[sanjisluvbot]

Could we get a Yandere platonic strawhats x reader, where someone from the reader’s world somehow also gets isekai’d- and maybe tries to encourage the reader to look for a way home behind strawhats backs?

Masterlist

A/N: Sure thing !

Warning: Slight Stockholm

The night fell and only the stars and the moon light up the Sunny. Laying in bed with someone you once considered a friend when a thud on the deck peaked your curiosity. You didn’t want to wake anyone, sneaking around the room to the door clenching the knob as quietly as you could. You open the door slowly, not only for discretion but for protection as your eye peaks through the crack. Without the light you couldn’t see but a figure was sprawled out in the middle of the deck, unmoving.

You look over your shoulder, silver glimmers through the moonlight invading the otherwise dark room on the corner of the girls vanity.

A pocket knife, you snatch it and creep back to the door, cringing when you hear a slight squeak under your foot. The knife safety secured in your right hand waiting to strike as you walk out onto the deck, slowly approaching the unknown.

The moon helps you see better when you get closer, it was a normal looking human. Your hand reaches out and that’s when the person in front of you woke up. As they were about to scream your hand quickly makes it way to their mouth. As this happens your able to see their face clearly, a familiar face.

The revelation soon comes to the two of your and you embrace one another, after doing a little catching up a new light appears.

Zoro had woken, ears as sharp as ever and he immediately gets defensive over the unwelcome guest aboard. You try to keep things under wraps but before you knew it the entire Strawhats crew was woken due to the commotion.

The same questions arose from when you first got here, a familiar sense of dread set in your stomach as well. You were already in a dire situation, your friend could very much end up the same if they were to find out how they’d gotten here.

When you were able to get some alone time you warned them, you could tell my the expression panic had set through your dear friend. You did your best to calm them down and assured them that you’d both get home without doubt.

However, this time around they’d become even more overbearing. You had a feeling they realized you two were from the same place, you should’ve known when you were the one who defended them when they were being interrogated. Letting out a sigh your rake your hand over your face beginning yet another day of figuring out ways to go home.

You’ve read every book, scroll, anything with words, hoping you’d get a clue or an answer, yet nothing seems to pop up pertaining your situations. Your friend was more creative in this aspect than you would’ve thought.

During times you were left alone your friend shared multiple plans getting away from the Strawhats and of getting home without ending up here again.

When you would make pit stops on islands the two of you would partner up going door to door for information, until you felt the eyes of the crew burning holes in the backs of your heads.

A smirk fell in your face when your friend came to whisper, “ This is harder than I thought, they’re like predators waiting to pounce. How could they be onto us.”

It made you chuckle both in humor and sadness. God forbid someone else ends up here, it’ll take some time but that sense of danger and the deep sinking feeling of dread always makes itself known.

Your friend never stops encouraging you though, reiterating plans and quirking them only to realize that they were two steps ahead of us. Always.

You gave up hope along time ago but, your friend always gives you a glimmer and your grasp for the first embers that on every occasions are just beyond your reach.

Sometimes you were thankful your friend was here. Not just because you felt alone with 11 other people on the ship but, because you could finally be completely alone for more than five minutes as the crew was now heavily infatuated with their new member.

It was as if you were back to watching one piece through a screen, watching everything play out the same way it did when you first arrived but to your friend.

Luffy’s eyes flickering in excitement of having a new friend to play with, Sanji trying to enchant them with charms and drinks, Zoro making mental notes about the little things they do, the entire crew just seemed robotic and fake before your eyes.

Time flew and as the attention was now barley on you they hadn’t realized how much you’d changed. It’s not that you even craved the attention but the growth you had made was so externally shown that it shocked you every time you glanced at the mirror.

Although it’s unclear through screen, each member of the crew was incredibly toned. Even the ones who seem weak, and fragile, the muscle definition before your eyes made them all look like Olympic gold medalists.

While they were so distracted you accustomed your body to the standards of this world, making yourself stronger and faster. Surprisingly even your friend hadn’t noticed, maybe reveling in all the attention stolen from you.

Like a moth to the flame. The flame of attention that followed your friend, no, don’t let intrusive thoughts fuel the growing hatred of your friend.

You’d been here for half a year now, your friend arriving only three months after you arrived. Who would’ve known that you’d not only still be here but be here with your friend. It was nice to still spend time with them when the straw hats weren’t down your throats.

Looking at the endless sea they turn to you, “ I know how hard you’ve been working, I never said it but I can tell.”

You him and turn to them, your peripheral vision giving you a small view of Robin watching the two of you while pretending to read a book. You almost groaned till they started speaking again.

“ I know we’ve tried everything. Everything that we could think of… that was considered safe. Sage enough that we couldn’t get caught.”

You nodded wondering which direction the conversation was going to go. You eyes widened at what they said next, completely shocked by the now growing excitement tingling in your joints.

“ We need to get out the box we’ve put ourselves in, try things that aren’t so safe. I know you’re capable, but so do the rest of them.”

You relaxed your face, not wanting to show joy that would invite unwelcome guests in your vicinity. You were glad to finally start getting serious with your friend, you concluded long ago that you wouldn’t get away from them if you played everything safe, never taking a risk.

You could also argue about why you play it safe in the first place, remembering nights where they’d lock you in a room at the bottom of the ship, only your thoughts to sleep with, listening to the eire sounds of the ship rocking back and forth against the merciless waves. Or when their grip shattered the bones in your wrist making you feel less than human.

There were many reason why you had to place it safe, but that glimmer of hope that made you want to finally just reach for it.

You finally decided to say something, and the smile on your friends face rivaled a child’s expression on Christmas Day.

“ We can leave tonight.”

A/N: I actually really liked this, I wanted to go on and write more maybe expanding on the different things that happened over the three months with Y/N’s Friend and the crew but I didn’t want to make this too long as I have a chapter to write and a few more asks 😭. Hope you enjoyed !

[keeps-ache]

The OCs you posted recently look really cool- could you talk a bit about them? Maybe the antagonists as well?

!! oh thank you :D

suuure yea :>> it's a smaller, newer thing of mine so not a lot n some of it may change!! but here's some profiles lol,

✧ Tide (the square head; they/them) is some sort of creature thing who lives in a remnant of an old world that decayed a long time ago after finding themself trapped there (that changes after they meet the goddess). they're head over heels for the goddess that still remains in the corridors there and they're not very normal about it hbfhvs - they can't be killed by any regular shmegular means and i have fun with that loll

✧ Vernor (ponytail gal; she/her) i don't have a lot for her, but she ended up in the same place Tide did and is very upset about it, understandably. she's good a martial arts and cries easily, and is pretty suspicious of most strangers :) she has a small knife-thing that works like a witch's broom (you have to hold the little handle for dear life though lmao) but i haven't gotten around to drawing it so !

✧ Dire (red circle; he/him) was created by the aforementioned goddess to dump emotions/thoughts she didn't want into, and then just sent him on his way lmfvhsh - because of that he is confused most of the time and still pretends to know everything but is figuring things out for real lol :3👍he hates to change his clothing and is snappy, and the snappiness may get worse on personal proximity hbfshv

^ these three have a Thing goin on. mostly qpp cuz i think it's fun :33

✧ Sleepy (the antagonist, he/him) the elusive guy. elusive bc i haven't drawn him lmfsh - another budy trapped in this old chunk of a dead world, he is also upset about it but to a much more desperate extent lol - his name isn't actually Sleepy but Tide nicknamed him that when they first met and now he can't seem to shake it hfsh, he Does hate it :) he is violent but he can play nicies so he does that most time loll

✧ the goddess (only thing holding this world together, She/her/it (capitalization is optional :3)) has been here for ages, ages, ages. her world's been long dead but she just keeps living for the monotony of it hfsh; plus, it's like her job never ended if she just keeps doing the same regular things she always did. bc of that it's actually preserved her chunk of annihilation, and sucks other creatures in w/o her knowing. the chunk is like a maze that keeps changing shape, so unless you can see it from a god's eyes the place is iiiiiinfinite! and terrible; the place changes to her moods and wishes, which can be interpreted p strangely lol :3 she's talked to and kept Tide around bc she needed somebody to deal with all these weird people coming into her dang house, and it's worked out fairly well (dubious)! :D

the world-chunk is inspired by vaporwave, abandoned malls, and the distinct smell of chlorine my mother has sometimes loll :)

[letters-from-the-gaps]

Letter to a Name that Isn't Mine (Anymore)

A letter I wrote to a version of myself that can't exist, for my sake.

TW: Grief and dysphoria and the general trauma of growing up trans. Take care of yourselves.

My love,

    My dear, my darling. How are you? How have you been? It’s been a little too long since I last wrote, and all I can do is offer apology. Whether or not you accept is your call. Time has been formless and shifting these days, and I find myself more often than not adrift in it all. Unmoored. I moved yesterday; I’m finishing the move today, maybe into tomorrow; on the first of June I’ll move again. To be honest, it’s up there with the worst things I’ve had to do. I genuinely hate it. Alas! Come the first I’ll be in a house! With a kitchen! It’s just up Alder, and I’ll stay till mid August when I go back for Passages. In continuing with the trend of doing college the same way dad did, I’m going to be an orientation leader, too.

    It’s been hard, my love, who’s name sounds like [it is too early and the canyon is quiet and cool and the only sounds are birdsong and enginegrowl and musichum and you are at peace and it is all soft]. Still, her death aches raw and rancid, an open wound I am sometimes lucky enough to simply forget about. Every bumblebee is a moment of remembrance, a pause, a second where I might just lose it, wherever I am. It is hard. It is so hard. Mom and Dad are going through her things, and while I am beyond grateful that I will be able to keep anything of hers I hate that this is how it happens. You want to know something especially unpalatable? I likely won’t need loans for school, on account of selling the house. It strikes me as deeply, deeply unfair that in order for good fortune like that to come my way it must cost me a life. Especially hers. I don’t know how long it will hurt, my love, who’s name sounds like [the surf is slate gray as the sky above and the fog is just barely peeling back and the golden grains of sand between your toes are the most solid things you’ve known in months and gulls cry overhead], I don’t know how long it will take before this wound has even started to scab. I don’t know how long it will take for me to stop picking at it once it has.

    But, God above, it has been good too. Please, please, even with all these ill tidings, even with how dire I know It seems to you now, it gets better. It got better, even: the other day I took a drive in the sunrise, I watched the sun spill out over the sound golden and bright and brilliant as it lit up the water and I nearly wept behind the wheel. It was beautiful, my love, whose name sounds like [mom puts her head in her hands to muffle laughter as you and dad trade jokes back and forth like broken signal towers and you’re all crying now but god it feels so good to laugh so hard], it was everything I wanted it to be. There are more of these days to be found as the summer rolls in, warm nights and clear mornings. Everything is in bloom. Everything is green, and lush, and alive. It is so so green. It is so green.

    I miss you, you know. My love, whose name sounds like [weeping and sniffling under a not-enough fan in the early morning of a place that hates you almost as much as you hate it], my darling dearest, I miss you. I do not regret what I did, to be truthful, because if I had not buried you shallow I never would’ve made it here, but I do regret that I buried you at all. I should’ve burned you, should’ve dropped you into the cool sea, should’ve let the coyotes get you. I should have allowed you the chance to become something more than a corpse. I’m sorry. But I hope you and I can make peace with it, somehow. You can’t be back, my love, whose name sounds like [blue canary in the outlet with the light switch who watches over you make a little birdhouse in your soul], because I will not give back the ground I have bled for, but I do think I can find a better place to lay you to rest. You might never be able to walk Tacoma’s shores, but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you three feet deep in Orange County.

    I know it will never be enough. I’ll still try anyways, because I have to. Because who else will? But I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I miss you dearly, and I am fiercely glad we are not the same anymore. I still hope you’re well, somehow, behind me as you are.

Love,

Love,

Love,

Me, Whose name sounds like

[Say I’m the only B in your bonnet make a little birdhouse in your soul]

[vaovalis]

One of the worst Autarchs I ever faced was Kartakus, High Priest of Mot. In my world, there was no way to know if Mot was everything that Kartakus and his soul-shriven zealots claimed, but now that I am here in this world and I am seeing the kinds of problems they’re having with just such an entity? Now that I am here and seeing what their ‘Banished Pantheon’ undead look like here as well?

It is little different.  The Zealots of Mot in my world were fleshreavers and scavengers of the worst order. They were regarded as kill-on-sight by everyone, even the servants of the other Autarchs.   There was no mystery to be had as for why.  The Zealots of Mot would torment, torture, sometimes devour but always absolutely defile anyone they got ahold of, all in the name of their mad god Mot. And when Kartakus learned of me after I and mine took out a number of his defacto contemporary Autarchs; when he learned that no matter how many times I fall that death cannot keep me? He became obsessed with me.  Obsessed with sacrificing me to his god Mot. None of the Autarchs were what I would call easy victories. None of their regimes were effortless to topple. Every domed city we took was costly and came at dire peril for many and dear prices for some. Kartakus was on a whole different level, both personally and in terms of the power wielded by his undead slaves.  Seeing what I see here on this Primal Earth regarding the damage their Mot has caused, I know in my soul that I have seen this, felt this, tasted this in the air before.   This Mot and the Mot of my world are the same. These are not even different facets of the same entity.  This god of the old world, of this ‘Banished Pantheon’, is the same as the nebulous horror that consumed Kartakus in the very ritual that had been meant for me when Kartakus failed to ensnare me in it. I never believed Mot was anything but Kartakus worshiping himself and his own awful powers before that day, but what I saw that day convinced me absolutely that whatever Mot was, it was otherworldly and fully capable of issuing a monstrous maw through a portal and eating people.  In that case, Kartakus was the one that got eaten. I learned to believe that day.  I wish I could unbelieve and unknown what I saw and what it amounted to, but I cannot. Kassie showed me a glimpse of the problems Vanguard attends to where the invaders from the sky are concerned.  The Rikti must have been a thing that happened in my world as well, as the word ‘Rikti’ persisted through the ages, and the Exalted often applied it as a grave insult to all wildlings.  When the Exalted said it, they were broadly rejecting the notion that we were also descendents of the Ancients. In one word, they claimed that legacy for themselves alone, and named we wildlings alien and monstrous.  Kassie showed me the section of Paragon City where this Rikti Mothership crashed.  She took me on what was clearly a routine mission just to show me what Vanguard does and what I could expect from that kind of organization. They face a threat from the sky, and as problematic as that seems, I cannot help but feel that the threat of that which devours from below is worse than any alien invaders have ever had the mental prowess to dream of being. There is a nightmare that lives in the cracks of the world, and it is hungrier than mortals were ever meant to imagine. I don’t think this is a problem I’m going to stay out of no matter what anyone else says. I don’t think I can afford to. If this Mot and the Mot of my world are the same Mot, as soon as its slaves learn of me, they’re going to be trying to feed me to their master.   I’m not going to let that happen here any more than I did back home.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #3

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"You can't fool me."

"Are you travelling alone?"

"Well, that's on you."

"I kind of like the secretiveness."

"You can't do whatever you feel like?"

"What do you need me for?"

"This is such a mess?"

"I want to go home to my wife."

"You're not allowed to pick the movie ever again."

"Why did you go there?"

"Did you buy me flowers?"

"I miss my dog."

"What did you swallow?"

"I can do whatever I want!

"It's a dire situation."

"Can't believe you thought this was real."

"We need to search for them!"

"This is not over yet."

"Why are you screaming at me?"

"Come on, just take it."

"Bye bye, my love."

"For better or worse."

"We can't wait a second longer."

"This is not my problem."

"I didn't know they were drugs."

"How long were you standing there?"

"A toast to our friendship."

"Something is wrong."

"There is more to the story than you're telling me."

"Get down on the floor!"

"Give me a kiss, you beautiful idiot."

"What is your secret?"

"You did an awful job."

"So, I guess this is the end."

"This is not how we do things here."

"We just have to keep going."

"Every little thing counts."

"I lost my phone."

"You need to get your life in order."

"We had a good run."

"Don't lick that!"

"Let's keep going, guys."

"I don't want to argue with you."

"We are just guests here."

"Good job, buddy."

"You have to go now."

"We need more information."

"Sometimes, I wonder how you're still alive."

"I feel very lucky today."

"That will do."

"You have no idea what this is?"

"Watch how a professional does this."

"You're acting like a child."

"Can I get you a drink?"

"This doesn't make any sense."

"I feel like having a party today."

"Oh my god, it's so pretty."

"Just watch and learn."

"Didn't you read the sign?"

"We definitely need a cup of tea for this."

"Survival of the smartest."

"This means war, my dear."

"I was born to win."

"Let the game begin!"

"I feel dirty."

"Oh, this will be fun!"

"Call me, when you make up your mind."

"This is news to me."

"I'd rather die."

"And now you're speechless, aren't you?"

"I can't ask you for this."

"This is such a waste of time."

"What a shame!"

"I crave a good book right now."

"This really is unfortunate."

Drabble List #1|List #2|List#4|List #5|List #6|List #7|List #8

Have fun creating and writing!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[meekmedea]

Apotheosis pt.5

previous pt. 4

~~~

Apotheosis, the ascension of a subject to divine status. 

A popular theme with the Ancient Greeks.

`

Damian wonders what happens to Medea. The mythological one of course, he doesn’t care for Todd. 

It seems that she’s never punished for her crimes. In the myths, she appears sporadically. Sometimes in Thebes. Other times in Athens. Or even Colchis. She’s the opposite from Jason, whose trip upon the Argo and the death of his children seem to be all that’s left of him. He dies alone underneath his ship.

`

Damian told himself earlier that it was ridiculous, but the thought lingers in his mind. Many of the Greek pantheon had made contact with Earth. Wonder Woman was very proof of such. So was this Mesonyx, the god himself? 

“I didn’t know you were interested in Greek mythology,” says a voice, interrupting his train of thought. He looked up to see Todd sit down across from him. “How do you find Euripides?” A trace of distaste appears in her eyes when it flickers down to the title of his book. 

“Very fascinating. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.” He wondered irritably why Richard had insisted that they spend time together. It’s not like they had anything in common.

“Oh?” She takes a sip from her cup of tea. “Tell me. What do you think of our dear heroine here?”

`

Todd is infuriating. But she is also much more well read than she lets on, literature was where she thrived. Maybe Richard had a point, she wasn’t all that bad. Yet. 

“So you sympathsize with the murderer? Don’t you worry about what your Father would think?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Medea was well within her rights here. While I don’t agree with all her actions, she wasn’t given many options either. Jason was a fool. Besides, it’s just a story.”

`

A sly smile appears, mocking him. “You’re right, it’s just a story. It’s always better to get your facts straight from the source, no?”

He takes it back. As interesting as it is to converse with her, she is still a little mad. 

~~~~

Richard is a plotter of the worst sort. Conniving plots so they spend time together. Sometimes, it’s the three of them, other times, it’s only the two of them.

He asks once why Todd plays along even if they are so painfully obvious. “For the same reason, you stay,” she says with a smile.

Through his Baba’s continued plots, he gets to know Todd a bit better. She proves to be someone with adequate wit, better conversation than Drake by far. Grudgingly, he stops complaining when she comes over on the same days as he does to visit Richard. 

``

And she does prove his theory right, she is Mesonyx. Though he wishes the reveal had been under less dire circumstances. 

Both of his parents were insistent on shaping him into something that he didn’t quite like. Right now, it was Mother, who preferred a hands-on approach. He didn’t want to be his grandfather’s vessel, nor did he want to return to the League. Unfortunately, she dislikes taking a no for an answer. 

As he dispatches assassins left and right, he thinks, ‘Mesonyx, if you are truly out there. Your aid would be much appreciated.’ Demonic entity or angel of vengeance, he doesn't care. He just needs to get out of here. Please. 

He is so tired, the number of opponents is starting to affect him. When would it end? The hunt for his capture drags on and the word, Mesonyx, becomes one of prayer. Please. Please Mesonyx. I’m beg–

Damian curses when he runs into a dead end. 

`

“It has been far too long, my son.”

A frown appears on his face as he looked up to see her. “Was this necessary?” Out of the corner of the eye, he wonders if he’s imagining if his shadow was moving far more than normal. He hopes not. 

“Father wishes the family to be reunited.” 

“You mean he tires of his old body and wants a new one?” he snarks. 

“We all have our sacrifices to make.”

`

Before he can form a retort, his shadow twists into a monstrous shape, expanding outward and forcing his mother to take a step away to avoid being impaled by the twisting spikes. 

From the mound of shadows, a single figure steps out. Dressed in black, Todd offers him her hand. In his head, her voice whispers, “Show me.”

He takes her hand and he feels dizzy as a blur of memories run through his mind. She’s searching for what to do, he realizes after a second. He nudges to the forefront the ones he deems most important. 

Todd’s eyes narrow and they blaze golden. An arm curls protectively around him. “Mine,” she hisses. 

Normally, he’d protest at being anyone’s, but there was something in her tone that made him pause. 

“He is my son,” says Talia unfazed as the shadows dissipate into the night air. “And this is not your place, little shadow.”

`

But it isn’t hers either. 

When he was younger, he used to compare his mother to a goddess. Her beauty and strength were unmatched. He did the same with his Father, almost likening him to a god. But now, he sees how wrong he was. 

A sense of otherness fills him even as Todd stands by his side. She does not belong to this world. There is something eerie in how she moves and talks with his mother – her shadows move a lot further than they should. 

`

Todd understands everything, yet Damian is still struggling to piece the parts together as quickly as he can.

Golden Fleece. Birthright. Medea. Jason. 

She is a princess of the old. 

In one version, Medea ascends to divinity. A goddess.

`

“Not any more. You have long renounced your ties. As has he.”  

“Gotham is not yours,” reminds Talia, “not yours to rule over as you see fit.”

Todd throws her head back and laughs – not her usual warm ones, but one full of mocking and cruelty. “Nor is it yours, mortal. I am not bound by your silly rules.”

Father would have an aneurysm at that. Probably quite similar to the one Mother was having. Though they might be for different reasons. 

`

Damian wonders if his mother should have realized Todd’s tone. This wasn't the ramblings of an insane young woman. This was a goddess ready to strike. To avenge. To protect. 

Perhaps she does. There’s a slight tenseness in Talia’s jaw as she speaks. “Step aside, Medea. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Nor will I. He’s under my protection.” On cue, swords that appear to be made of fire appear in her hands. 

~~~~

What follows is the bloodiest encounter he’s ever seen. Any of his mother’s assassins that attempt to lay a hand on him are ended brutally. 

Talia puts up a valiant effort, but she too knows when she no longer has the upper hand. She flees into the dead of the night as the members of her entourage dwindle. 

`

As the two of them are left alone in the alleyways, Todd turns to him. “Come.” A blade appears in her hand and she holds it out to him, hilt first. “Hold on, and don’t let go until I tell you to.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

The grim look on her face tells him that it is better that he doesn’t pry.

`

Damian takes it without any more protests. The travel is disorienting and his surroundings blur at a sickening speed, but he holds on for dear life, not letting go until he hears her give an okay. 

“Where are we?” He blinks at the room they were in. “Wait?”

“Dick’s apartment,” she says lightly. “I trust you can contact him?” She sounds a little breathless. 

`

It’s here that he can see her a bit better. Her skin was too pale and she’s covered in a glistening liquid from head to toe. Damian takes a step and realizes with a start that she isn't covered in the liquid, rather that is her blood. “You’re hurt. Let me help,” he offers. It is the least he can do. 

“No, no, don’t come too close. I’ll hurt you.” Not a threat, but a statement. For good measure, she takes a step back.

“You’ll bleed out.” 

“I’ll live. You won’t if you touch my blood. I cannot bring the dead back from Hades.”

`

“But–”

She shook her head vehemently. “Call them for me. Please, Damian.” 

“I–” Her earnestness takes him aback. “Alright.” 

“Pass me that towel, too. No, toss it over.”

He obliges and it takes him two tries to dial Richard’s number from his landline. 

`

“Damian? What’s with the sudden visit?” Though Baba’s voice tried to stay jovial, he could hear the worry. “Damian?”

“Come quick. Todd is hurt. You need to tell Wilson as well.” He didn’t know how to contact Wilson himself. 

The sound of glass breaking is the first noise he hears. “How bad is it?” Richard swears quietly under his breath. 

“I can’t tell. She won’t let me close.”

“I’ll be there in twenty. What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No.”

~~~~~

Wilson beats Richard by mere seconds; he appears, slipping in the window as the door jingles open. 

“Medea.” He doesn’t spare Damian a glance as he rushes to her side. “Gaia, you promised–”

`

Damian barely registers Richard fussing over him, he’s too focused on the two. The worry on Wilson’s face is what worries him, he’s never seen the stoic mercenary so open with his emotions. 

“It’s not that bad, Beloved,” she says weakly. “You’re making a mountain of it.” She grimaced when Wilson moved the rag that she’d been holding to her abdomen. The rag comes away golden. Damian can’t help but widen his eyes. 

“You promised, Medea. You made me a promise and I will hold you to it.” Suddenly, he turns to them. “Richard,” barks Wilson from across the flat. “I’m using your rooms.” He lifts Todd into his arms and in seconds, the door to the guest room slams shut behind them.

`

“Will she be alright?”

Richard ignored his question. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

~~~~~~~~~

first part

next part

[little-smartass]

THE VAMPIRE LESTAT COVER ALBUM - the legendary Vampire Lestat is back and bigger and badder than ever, this time bringing a whole album of song covers ranging from classic bangers to newer fresh takes on chart hits! get your copy now, complete with a transcript of the artist's commentary on each song!

(songs I think Lestat would cover and release as an album in an attempt to re-kickstart his career and/or make some sort of dramatic statement to Louis. tracklist and "artist commentary" under the cut)

Survival - Muse

“And I’ll reveal my strength, to the whole human race, yes I am prepared, to stay alive, and I won’t forgive, and vengeance is mine, and I won’t give in, because I choose to thrive! Yeah I’m gonna win!”

Oh, I wish this song had been around back on that opening night at the Cow Palace - how apt that would have been! What a fucking anthem! They would have been rioting all night. I mean, they already were, but, like, because of the music. Not because vampires were being immolated in the middle of the crowd. Different kind of riot.

The Bitch Is Back - Elton John

“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh the bitch is back, stone cold sober as a matter of fact, I can bitch, I can bitch, ‘cause I’m better than you, it’s the way that I move, the things that I do!”

One day I want to have this play as I walk into Night Island. I’ll time it perfectly so that I throw off my coat - my denim jacket, or- oh, no, a fur! Maximum drama! - just as the chorus starts. Armand will know that I’m coming of course, but I think that’ll just make it even better. And I have good memories to this song... [muffled question] Sorry, gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, bébé. [laughter]

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

"Oh my, feels just like I don’t try, look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me, head down, swaying to my own sound, flashes in my face now, all I know is everybody loves me”

Look, do I even need to explain this one? Didn’t think so.

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

"I don't give a damn ‘bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change - and I'm never gonna care bout my bad reputation"

This one's fairly self-explanatory again. It could have been my personal anthem when I was mortal quite honestly. And it's an awful lot of fun to jump about and headbang to, don't you think? That's a new thing I've found out about, headbanging. People have been hopping about to music looking like fools for centuries but now there's a name for it. Fantastic.

bad guy - Billie Eilish

"I’m that bad type, make your mama sad time, make your girlfriend mad type, might seduce your dad time… I’m the bad guy. Duh.”

Creepy? Check. Sexy? Check. Tongue-in-cheek? Check check. This song was great and a lot of fun to cover.

Lover to Lover - Florence + the Machine

“I believe there’s no salvation for me now, no space among the clouds, and I feel I’m heading down, but that’s alright, that’s alright, that’s alright”

I don’t know, this one just felt very relevant. Also the piano was great to do. You might have noticed that I’ve picked a lot of songs with piano, and that’s because I bullied the studio into getting me a goooooorgeous grand piano for the recording space and I wanted to use it as much as possible!

Feeling Good - Muse

“Stars when you shine, you know how I feel, scent of the pine, you know how I feel, oh freedom is mine, and I know how I feel”

I just really like this song - I’ve done a cover of an excellent cover! Can- can you put emojis in this? Do people still use emojis? Well imagine I’ve put the shrug one. Wait, isn’t there- Daniel, Daniel, come here, isn’t there a shrug emoji made up of keyboard- [muffled words] yes! The shrug one! Yes, put that in the transcription. [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] I just like this song.

The Man - The Killers

“I got gas in the tank, I got money in the bank, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man, I got skin in the game, I got a household name, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man”

I feel like this one speaks for itself too. Can you put that shrug emoji thing in here again? [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] Yes!

J'ai Pas Envie - MIKA

J'ai pas envie, de faire comme si, comme les maris, qui disent oui, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie d'te faire plaisir, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, si tu m'aimes viens me le dire"

Look, I'm not going to translate the whole song for you, because it has all this clever wordplay you just totally lose in english… but the gist of it is that these two lovers are… at odds a lot. It's… it's maybe a little spiteful [laughter] but in a fun way! It's a fun song! Louis won't even be mad about it, it's MIKA.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

"When I'm not with you, think of you always (I miss those long hot summer nights), when I'm not with you, think of me always, always"

[Long pause] God, I miss Freddie.

Let 'Em Talk - Kesha

Ah, full disclosure - I put this song in purely because of the expression Louis made when I played it in the car and it got to the line “can suck my dick” and she did that popping noise… it was incredible, and I just knew I had to cover it so I could see his expression when I said that. I can’t wait to play it to him. [laughter]

So What - P!nk

"So so what, I'm still a rockstar, I got my rock moves, and I don't need you, and guess what? I'm having more fun, and now that we're done, I'm gonna show you tonight, I'm alright, I'm just fine, (and you're a tool, so)"

I'm actually a big fan of nineties and noughties female stars - all that grrrrrrrl power, it's great fun, you know? I'd say this one is fairly self-explanatory, because I am still a rockstar! This is my new album! Fuck you EMP and your sniffy little article calling me "washed up"!

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons

"But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line, I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear?"

This one could be self-deprecating, but it's also very vindictively angry at the same time, and that's a combination I definitely get. Like, oh, it's my fault, isn't it? It's my fucking fault again, what a surprise. Perhaps "learn from your mother or you'll spend your days biting your own neck" is a little on the nose… [muffled words] you've read my books, right? [muffled words] Good, good.

Missy - The Airbourne Toxic Event

"But I swear there's still some good in me, I think if you'd stuck around you'd see, all the botched attempts at integrity I once had"

Oh, I was feeling philosophical when I picked this one. No, philosophical isn't the right word… melancholy? Do people still use that word? "I swear I swear I swear I'll never get sad" is both furiously defiant and yet so self-defeatingly ironic. [Exasperated noise] Enough of that. Next!

Please Don't Leave Me - P!nk

"I don't know if I can yell any louder, how many times have I kicked you out of here, or said something insulting? I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of nearly anything, when my heart is broken… (please, please don't leave me)"

Oh, we’re… we’re getting to this section now. [clearing throat] Well, I have to make up for that sucking dick line, don’t I? Get a bit vulnerable. Oh God, why did I decide to do this bit? [muffled words] [bad chicago accent] But why buy the cow? Because you love him, you really do. [sigh, laughter]

Next To Me - Imagine Dragons

"Oh, I always let you down, shattered on the ground, still I find you there, next to me, and oh, the stupid things I do, I'm far from good it's true, still I find you, next to me"

Why did I- I don’t remember putting so many of these ones in.

Run To You - Pentatonix

"I've been settling scores, I've been fighting so long, but I've lost your war, and our kingdom is gone... how shall I win back your heart which was mine? I have broken bones and tattered clothes, I've run out of time"

[Sigh] [clears throat] Yeah. I think we can move onto the next one.

Love of My Life - Queen

“Love of my life, don't leave me, you've stolen my love, you now desert me, love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me, because you don't know, what it means to me”

I play this one sometimes on my baby grand when we've had a fight, and it's impossible for him to stay angry. He's a sucker for this sort of… formality in romance. God, I wish I'd realised that earlier. If I'd written him a letter in fancy copperplate script with scented paper and enclosed rose petals politely requesting him to bend me over his desk back in the day, it might not have taken two centuries of mutual blue balls for us to figure our shit out. Ah well, live and learn… as it were. [muffled words] Look, I did a whole bunch of vulnerable songs! Now I get to make sex jokes! [laughter] oh fuck off.

[themurderofcrowscollective]

The next day I was still roasted so I had to pretend I was sober but Gaz had fun making dumb jokes and telling funny stories until I was a laughing, crying mess on the floor. As of today (about 3 weeks later from the night I got stoned), I was woken up by Price early in the morning. I had been studying and learning the best I could so when he said I was going on my first mission, it was like I switched to serious mode. No jokes made me laugh or smile, I had a mission to get done. It turned out to be a week long of staking out and watching our prime targets and what they did all day, waiting until they received a delivery of weapons we had to seize before it was too late. I'll admit it, I didn't sleep at all. Soap would sometimes drag me from the window just to make me eat something but I didn't let him stop me from doing my job. The night we got activity from our targets' suppliers, I was on sniper duty as I had to make sure Soap and the other unit moved in without getting caught by surprise. Even on little to no sleep, I was good... until I got ambushed from where I was stationed. Ghost tried getting to where I was when I reported I was under attack, but I yelled for him to stay on task. Grabbing my axe, I abandoned all my thoughts as I rushed the enemy and took them out with terrifying agility. I never told anyone but I trained all night for the past 5 weeks with my axe, I couldn't get rusty. When the supplies were seized by the other units and my unit, I took a few cuts and got stabbed in the leg without realizing it until I felt the adrenaline fade and exhaustion hit me like a train so while I reported my current status, I fell onto one knee as I yelled out in pain. " Ghost to K, what happened?? " " K to Ghost, I got a knife lodged in my thigh. When's exfil getting here? " " 15 minutes. " " That's all the time I need. " I've had worse injuries but I knew my pain tolerance, this was nothing but still hurt. Grabbing the knife handle, I held in my breath before yanking it out and quickly ripping off part of my shirt to fashion it into a tourniquet around the wound, stopping the bleeding. When I got to the others and boarded the heli, god I felt exhausted. The sleepless nights and intense adrenaline kicked my ass so badly I eventually passed out and woke up in the infirmary. I had new bandages that time and when I woke up, Price looked locked and loaded with reprimands for my lack of sleep. " K, while the mission is of importance, your well-being is important too. Mind telling me why you neglected to sleep? " God dammit he has that look in his eyes again. I carefully sat up, god my head feels fuzzy. " Sir I get enough sleep while I'm here, and I couldn't let my guard down out in the field when every second is of dire importance. Had I let my guard down, I would've been a compromise to the mission. Any punishment you deem necessary, I will carry it out accordingly. I'm sorry sir for my insubordinate actions. " I waited patiently, knowing that if he didn't choose a punishment then I'd assign one for myself by scrubbing the bathrooms spotless with a toothbrush and cleaning out the showers. However he said nothing, nodded and walked away. When I was given the OK to leave the infirmary, I walked past Soap and Gaz without saying a word and found the cleaning supplies. Entering the bathrooms I had to wear a face mask to avoid the smell, dear god it still smells like someone dropped a nuke. Luckily no one is in here except me so I started out with scrubbing the toilets with a spare toothbrush, whistling the one tune I know to distract myself from the smell and the disgusting stains left in the toilets.

A Stranger's Bullet

We've been on a fucking roll with these word vomits, but now it's my turn to play! (It's K btw)

During a mission set out in South Korea after Price have received word of Shadow activity being sighted, Horangi had requested to be dispatched alongside Ghost. It was only them two as they were both sufficient in stealth and taking out enemies silently but what would happen if both of them were to be cornered by enemies on all sides, only to witness them get headshot from afar? Why don't we find out? - - - " Wake up Lieutenant. " Ghost had instantly opened his eyes as soon as the words were said, he'd fallen asleep during the ride to South Korea for a mission. First step was to have a stake-out, gather intel on the enemy's movement, and only take them out when the order to move out is made. Originally he had planned on doing this alone but during the mission briefing, Horangi had asked to join. It seems the enemy were close to where he used to live so before Price could try to reason with Horangi, Ghost spoke up and allowed him to be there. The plane ride was long and tiring but eventually the plane landed and their assigned taxi was already there to pick them up. They had to wear their civvies (civilian clothes) as they'd traveled via public airplane so you could imagine how plain they looked. Their hideout is as simple as it could be, being stocked already with equipment and supplies to last them about a week before they were able to push out phase 2 of the mission. For the first week it was purely gathering intel and infiltrating the enemy's hideout to gather said intel, nothing strange or out of the ordinary having occurred yet. As soon as all the intel was gathered about their plans, Ghost sent them to Price who then ordered the command to take them out. It didn't go as planned. What Price thought was a few opponents really happened to be more than what Ghost and Horangi could take on, so when things went south, the pair of them were cornered on a low building. " If one of us makes it out here alive, I'd want it to be you Ghost. " " Bullshit, we're both getting out of 'ere. " They stood with their backs slowly reaching the edge as the enemy closed in, guns aimed and ready to shoot... until one of them dropped like a fly. Not a sound was heard aside from the thud he made, and when one of the Shadows checked on him to find a bullet shot straight through his head, that Shadow also fell. No one knew what was going on but Ghost and Horangi took it as a chance to fight off the ones left standing as more Shadows fell to the ground, until none were left alive. After getting back to the base (after another boring plane ride), Price debriefed the two on the mission until it was time for their input. " Sir, while we were there we were surrounded by many Shadows until someone shot down a good amount to make it a fair fight for us. You didn't send anyone to help us, right? " Ghost asked inquisitively, Price looking confused as he leaned back in his chair. " No, I didn't. Did either of you see anyone else that night? " Horangi leaned forward. " I saw a glimpse of someone from above, but they were too far away for me to get a good look at them. " " I'll have it added to the report. Good work you two, dismissed. " - - -

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

[jimlingss]

Kitchen Romance

➜ Words: 11.1k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Chef!AU

➜ Summary: You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors' ancestors were matchmakers and it's all because of a special, inborn gift. A gift that allows you to see each person's fated ones above their heads. But it's not so much a gift when one day, your boss walks in with YOU above him.

cr.

The kitchen is in chaos.

The heat swelters in the still air, stifling with the summer warmth that’s forced most people indoors with air conditioning. But here, there’s no such privilege. Not when open fires on frying pans were at every stovetop and grease was splattering everyone like a water fountain show. You feel yourself being roasted alive, a layer of oil sitting on top of your skin, and there’s barely a moment to wipe away the sweat rolling from your hairline.   Your hands are wrinkled as you scrub down the nth dish from the pile that’s stacked above your head, but before you can finish, Taehyung’s desperately calling out for you. You shout back at him that you’re coming and then you’re helping him peel the potatoes.   There’s no room to complain. Especially not when—   “What is this?!”    For a moment, time itself stops.   The pandemonium halts, fire flickering, knives held mid-air. Everyone’s head has swiveled over to the dark-haired man standing at the end of the island. Kim Seokjin holds up a plate of baked salmon with methi prawns. His plump lips are pulled downwards. That’s never a good sign.   “The presentation is sloppy!” he yells and you flinch from the sheer volume of his booming voice. “Are you people blind?! We can’t serve this! It’s an embarrassment! Do it again!”   “Yes, chef!”    Everyone apologizes, including you, and Seokjin huffs, moving out of the kitchen.   Namjoon, sous-chef, shakes his head. “Focus! Dinner service hasn't even begun yet!”   Luckily, everyone’s on edge and meticulous enough with Seokjin walking around and scrutinizing every action that the rest of the night goes off without another hitch. By the end, you’re finishing up on cleaning and washing the dishes.   “Good night, Y/N.” Jihyo waves, bag strap slung on her shoulder.   “See you.” You muster a smile while you keep scrubbing. “Bye.”    “Night,” Yoongi says while Taehyung fixes you a grin. You watch them leave and then focus on completing the rest of your tasks. It’s not long before you’re switching all the lights off and changing from your uniform.    The walk back to your apartment proves to be excruciating. You’re beyond exhausted, lugging your legs along to carry the rest of your body while forcing your eyes to remain open, so you can at least see where you’re going.    When the door opens, you immediately jump into the shower to wash off the grime, nearly falling asleep in the process. By the time you flop onto your bed, your hair is still dripping wet, but as your muscles ease into the mattress, you’re knocked out into a deep slumber.   Rest is merely a blink of time.   The alarm on your phone is blaring before you can dream or feel even remotely refreshed. It’s deafening to your ears and you reach over to shut it off. Finding the sun already up in the sky, you force yourself to sit up, get ready, grab breakfast and eat on your way to work.   “If it’s too hard, you should come home,” the voice on the other side of the line coaxes. “Your dad and I are so worried about you sometimes.”   “I’m fine, mom.” You’re chewing in your cheek, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder as you parade down the block. “Trust me.”   “Have you at least been eating well?”   You glance at the granola bar in hand. “Yeah. Sort of.”   “The city is scary. There’s no shame in coming home, dear. Your grandma misses you a lot. She always asks about you.”   “I’m fine, mom,” you reassure her for the second time. “I really am. And tell grandma—”   Accidentally, your shoulder collides with a businessman’s. Apologies spring from you, but rather than looking at the stranger like you should be, your eyes unintentionally wander above his head. To the cloud of fog. And a woman’s smiling face you see emerge from it.   The man’s brows lift at how you’re staring into space and he moves out of the way.   You’re forced out of your trance and you continue to apologize until he’s completely gone from sight. You damn yourself for not being more careful.   You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors’ ancestors were matchmakers.    Your mother once told you that back in the day, some peasants in your family couldn’t sew, sell or do any labour, so they begged heavens and out of pity, they were granted a small gift. A gift that’s been passed down to every generation since. While you’re not sure if the story is true or not, what’s certain is that from the moment you were born, you could see a cloud of fog above everyone’s head. It’s like speech bubbles or thought bubbles in comic strips. But instead of words, the fog comes with another person’s face. It’s the one who they’re meant to be with.   Ironically enough, you’ve never seen one above your own head. Though you’ve come to accept that. Romance will never be a major aspect of your life, so you’ve switched gears into focusing on your career and finding fulfillment elsewhere. You also knew early on that you didn’t want to be a matchmaker like the rest of your family.   You want to be a—   “Good morning, chef.”   “Good morning.” Namjoon nods with a smile. “Things weren’t too bad yesterday, but let’s try to be less sloppy for dinner service tonight. Hoseok, what time is the shipment of seafood coming in?”   Namjoon continues going through the daily routine, updating each person on the schedule and the shipments. But it’s not long during the morning meeting in the kitchen that the back door creaking can be heard.    Instantly, everything comes to a halt. Everyone turns themselves and greets the head chef simultaneously.    Seokjin rounds the corner. “We have a lot to do today, people. Tonight’s special is going to be watermelon with smoked salmon mousse—”   You gasp.   Automatically, your hands lift to cover your mouth, yet too late to muffle the loud noise. Your eyes are as large as saucers. Your heart stutters in your chest, nearly giving out.   Instead of the polished brunette woman above Seokjin’s head that was always there, you see someone else. Someone very familiar that you’ve seen in the mirror a thousand times. You.   You’re frozen — palms clammy, knees weak. And everyone’s turned around to stare, even Kim Seokjin himself. His brow is cocked and he eyes you intensely for daring to interrupt him.   “Are you okay?” Jihyo whispers, leaning in and nudging you with her elbow.   You start to breathe again, frantically. Yet no matter how much you gasp for air, you can’t feel the oxygen entering your lungs. But you force yourself to bow your head anyway, retaining an exterior that’s not oozing of sheer panic. “S-S-Sor..ry. I…. have something in my throat.” You clear it and Seokjin sighs, continuing with what he was saying.   The first task is to wash the salad and it’s easy enough, but your eyes continue to wander up to the dark-haired, doe-eyed man from across the kitchen. Black shirt with a white apron around his waist, he emanates intimidation from his god-like looks alone and constant frown.   Your eyes connect and you instantaneously whip yourself around.   You start to sweat when Seokjin beelines to you.   “Do you have an issue with me?”   You shake your head furiously.   “Then focus!” the man spits. “You’re drowning the salad!”   You wince as he slams the faucet down.   This can’t be. This can’t be it. It doesn’t make sense whatsoever.   On your break, you’re crouched over by the bathrooms and much to your dismay, your mom is hysterically laughing at you. “Just because you never saw your match, doesn’t mean you’re alone, Y/N! Poor soul, where did you ever get that idea from? No one can see their own. I didn’t and neither did your aunt or grandma.”   “Why didn’t you tell me that?” The syllables hiss out of you and you spare a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s coming.    You’ve come to accept that you would never be romantically involved with anyone. To find out that Seokjin, your boss, is your match out of everyone, it’s taking you for a hysteric spin.   “I thought you already knew!” she exclaims on the other line. “Plus, nothing comes from knowing your own. But who is it? Are you going to bring them home? I would love to know what sort of person is going to end up with my dear daughter. Oh, your grandma will be so excited to hear the news!” “Now’s not the time, mom,” you grieve, palm pressed to your forehead. There’s an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m never going to end up with him.”   “You can’t change fate, Y/N.”   “Fate changes all the time.”   “Are you okay?” There’s a lower voice behind you and you flinch, turning around to see Hoseok’s alarmed expression.    You stand up, apologizing internally as you hang up on your mom. “Sorry. It...was a family emergency. But everything’s fine.”   “Okay. Well, Namjoon wants you to grab some more flour from the storage room.”   “I’ll be right on it.”    You swiftly return back to work before you risk losing your job any more than you have today. But all the while, you damn yourself. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened.    You ending up with Kim Seokjin, the scary boss that notoriously fires people in your position, is the last thing you wanted to occur. It’s like you’re living in a nightmare where you’re the only one who’s aware of your own dire circumstances and inevitable doom.   //   “Would it be that bad if he fell in love with you?” Hyoyeon eyes you lazily from across the table as she stirs her drink with her straw. She’s one of your oldest friends who happen to live in the city and one of the few who knows about your gift.   “Yes. It would be that bad!” You’re exasperated. You thought she would be up and arms about it like you are. “How could I ever look at my boss like that?!”   “You never know,” Hyoyeon sing-songs much to your chagrin.   “Don’t give me that. How would you like it if your boss fell in love with you?”   “My boss is a Karen going into her sixties.”   “Exactly.”   Her lips pop off her straw, wearing a visage of distaste. “This and that aren’t the same, Y/N. I didn’t think Soobin would be with me and when you told me, I was mad. But look at us now! He’s not half bad.”   “You’re married.”   “Precisely.” She laughs, practically glowing from happiness. “And you know, Seokjin isn’t bad either. He’s like what? Only a few years older than you. Ambitious. Wealthy. Handsome. He did that one photoshoot for that magazine and he was so goddamn handsome. Like holy fuck, I almost got pregnant from just—”   “Alright. I get it.”   “—and he’s like one of the top chefs of the country. Imagine having that kind of food for the rest of your life.”   “That’s not going to happen,” you mumble. If it changed once, it can change again.   The more you think about it, the more assured you become. You’ll do everything in your power to change it.   //   The kitchen has fallen into a lull.    Jihyo, the pantry chef, works on tossing salads while the butcher chef, Yoongi, is filleting fresh tuna. Sauté chef Hoseok is preparing his piccata sauce while you help Taehyung, the entremetier, with ingredients for the soup. Everyone has their designated roles here, most of which are fancier than yours. As a kitchen assistant, if you aren’t helping Taehyung then you’re washing dishes. But everyone needed to start from somewhere, so you aren’t going to complain. Working for Kim Seokjin is a privilege, albeit, he’s fearsome and hard to please.   You clear your throat. “Has...anyone seen that woman lately?”   Taehyung turns his head. “Who?”   “That woman came to the restaurant a few times and was with Chef Kim....”    A petite and dainty physique. Long, dark hair. Her eyes glimmered in the light and her pinked lips pulled softly when she greeted you all. She was poised, oozed of grace, sophistication, money. And she was the one who you saw above Seokjin’s head since you met him. Hell, you saw him above her head, and while you were surprised that in spite of his scariness, he actually had someone, they strangely suited each other well.   They were supposed to be together.    Until recently.   You wonder what happened. What the change was. Why you’re suddenly his match now.   Jihyo turns around, ears perked from the conversation. “Right! I haven’t seen her around lately either! I wondered if something happened.”   “You mean Kim Jisoo?” Yoongi lolls his head to the side and when Taehyung gives a curious expression as to how he knows, he says, “Hoseok and I were sent to her flower shop to pick up an order once.”   “Were they even dating?” Taehyung asks, looking up from where he’s chopping cucumbers.   “They were,” Namjoon pipes up and you look towards him, having expected him to shut down the conversation around the head chef, but he merely smiles. “But I haven’t seen her recently either.”   Jihyo hums. “I wonder if something happened.”   “Maybe they broke up,” Yoongi offers absentmindedly.   “Well, that wouldn’t be surprising.” Taehyung pauses and looks over to you, lifting a brow as if trying to find an ally. “He seems like he can be pretty hard to get along with.” But the opinion isn’t unpopular and there are several snickers throughout the kitchen.   “Seokjin’s just serious about his work,” Hoseok says with a smile. “But they were pretty serious.”   “Really?” You turn to Namjoon directly. It’s not often that you’d be so straightforward, but you want answers. You want explanations. “Did he ever say anything to you? On what could’ve happened?”   He shakes his head and then there’s a loud boom of the backdoor. Your blood runs cold. Everyone’s eyes widen, but there’s no time to react or to take back what he could’ve heard. Seokjin walks in with his eyes narrowed in on you specifically. “If all of you have enough time to talk about my personal life, then you can work twice as hard and twice as fast tonight.”   Everyone holds in their sighs.    With your downcast head, your eyes search the floor. “I’m sorry, chef.”    But the apology falls onto deaf ears.   //   It’s a busy shift.   With your tail caught in between your legs, it’s either a cutting board in front of you with a knife in hand or plates and a rough sponge by the sink. Oil from the fryer nearby splashes onto you, the grease coating bowls staining your apron, the heat sticking your tied back hair to your scalp.    Yet you wish you could do more.    Not just chop bell peppers, finely mince garlic or prepare starches. Not just rinsing bowls to stack into the dishwasher and wash large pots and plates by hand. While you’ve become accustomed to knives, keeping a rapid and constant beat as you slice whatever is in front of you, you wish you could cook. Not just be an accessory to the kitchen. Or an extra member to assist the chefs.    But for now, you count your blessings. Humming to yourself late at night while you finish.   “What are you still doing here?”   The crystal clear voice has you flinching, startled to death and you turn around to see Kim Seokjin in the flesh. White shirt rolled to his elbows, black trousers, expensive Rolex on his wrist that could pay the rest of your student loans with. You gawk at him. Speechless. Scared.   He doesn’t wait for you to find your tongue, dismissing your silence. “Where are the others? They should be cleaning up too. Just because dinner service is over, doesn’t mean they can leave.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, no longer speaking to you but himself. “I won’t have anyone slacking in my kitchen.”   “I-It’s fine, chef.” Your voice is barely a squeak, but you muster the courage, not wanting them to get yelled at tomorrow. You turn around, quickening up your scrubbing until your nails start to hurt. “I’m supposed to be washing the dishes anyway.”   “It shouldn’t be taking you this long.”   You wonder if he’s scolding you.   It goes silent.   “Finish up and go change,” Seokjin says shortly and you nod. It takes another ten minutes for the task to be completed and then you’re wiping down the counters before heading to the lockers to change out of your apron and uniform.   Usually, you’d come out, turn off all the lights and begin the final trek home. But today, your blood runs cold. Your mouth fills with cotton when you step out. Against your own assumption, the head chef has not in fact left. Instead, Seokjin is leaning against the counter with his coat on, furiously tapping on his phone with his thick brows furrowed like they usually are.   You swallow hard and bow your head as you pass him. “Good night, chef.”   “Wait.”   Immediately, you halt. He pockets his device. “Are you walking?” The absence of an answer is enough of an indication for him. “I’ll drive you. It’s dangerous to walk home at this time of night.”   It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t an offer either. It’s a command.    And soon, you discover yourself in his expensive Mercedes. The vehicle is black, sleek and you’re afraid of touching the leather seats more than you have to in case you stain it with poverty and have him sue you for damages. Or fire you.    “Turn left,” his fancy navigation system deadpans and it startles you.    Yet Seokjin is undeterred and with one hand on the wheel, he turns at the light, allowing the car to roll smoothly over the pavement. The passing lamp posts’ glow also illuminate his features, his plump lips and the slope of his nose. If Hyoyeon was here she would be salivating at the sight, how his chin is lifted, head slightly cocked. You would be too, if you weren’t so afraid. Kim Seokjin exudes confidence and intimidation, rightfully so too. He’s worlds out of your league.   And as your eyes stray from his profile to focus on the cloud above his head, your smiling expression still emerges.   You don’t understand how someone like you can be with someone like him.   “Is there something on my face?”   His question leaking with annoyance shakes you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from him frantically to look out the window. “N-No.”   The tense quietness that follows is enough that you want to bang your head against the dashboard and hope you get knocked out to spare you from this awkwardness. Then again, you might just end up with a bruise and his car repair bill which would be even wors—   “You won’t be seeing Jisoo anymore,” Seokjin suddenly says and your head swivels to him. “She decided to cheat on me and that was a deal breaker, so I broke it off.”   “Oh.”   “I didn’t know you were one for gossip, but go ahead and tell the others if you’d like.”   “I..I’m sorry.” Your downcast head faces your lap and you swallow hard. “It’s personal and I shouldn’t have intruded or asked. It was wrong and unprofessional of me for bringing it up.”   “No.” There’s a moment of silence as he looks straight ahead. “It was wrong of me to act the way I did.” You blink wide-eyed and Seokjin parks at the curb. “My reaction was a bit uncalled for — it’s something I’m still working on.”   You stare at him and finally, the man meets your gaze. “You can get out now.”   “O-Oh.” You scramble out the car. “T-Thank you.”   The moment the door shuts, he drives off.   Fate can be changed. It’s rare, but choices influence futures and who someone ends up with can change depending on the actions they take. You just never expected Seokjin’s reason for the change to be so heartbreaking. Even if he stated it factually and his expression never wavered, you could sense it in his voice. The sadness you didn’t know he could possess.   //   “What made you think I would like him?” Jihyo is exasperated as she wipes down the counter and Taehyung grins as he sweeps the floor. “The guy literally kept on going about rock climbing, bungee jumping and skydiving. Do I look like an adrenaline junkie to you, Kim Taehyung?”   “Hey, hey. Yeonjun is nice, okay? I just thought you would be into the rough look.”   “Not at all. This is the last time I’m letting you set me up.”   Yoongi smirks as he passes by. “I’ll take it that your blind date didn’t go well?”   Jihyo glares at him.    Hoseok turns around with an amused smile. “It was your fault with trusting Taehyung with this sort of thing. What kind of guy are you into? Maybe I could set you up with someone better.”   She sighs wistfully. “I don’t even know anymore. I just want someone reliable and half decent.”   In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker up to the cloud above her head. There’s a bright eyed young man there and you smile, unloading the dishwasher as you continue listening to their conversation.    “See? It wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung pipes up to defend himself. “How am I supposed to know what kind of person you’d be into if you don’t know yourself?”   “Oh, so you know?”   “Of course I do!” He scoffs and becomes dreamy as he muses, “I want someone with long hair and dresses fashionably, someone who’s sweet and gentle, like a puppy.”   But based on the person above him, they appear rougher around the edges with shorter hair and a frown. But you let Taehyung have it, not commenting a single word. You’ve learnt from experience that it doesn’t work well if you come out of nowhere and try to involve yourself.    They continue talking about ideals, even Namjoon that pinches in he’s been seeing someone lately — an old friend who he went to school with that he never thought of romantically until recently. You’re having fun just listening in until the question is directed at you.   “Me?” You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know either. I haven’t really thought about it before.”   “Oh, don’t give me that.” Taehyung nudges you. “Everyone has some idea.”   But you’ve sincerely never considered it before. You always thought you would live in solitude without another companion and even came to terms with it. But things have changed. “I guess….someone kind and considerate. Thoughtful. I don’t care what they do, except that they have to be a good person.”   It might be a generic answer, but as you think about Seokjin, you know you don’t want someone domineering and frightening. Yet from last night, Seokjin didn’t seem so daunting in the car.   “Yeah, I can see that.” Jihyo nods.   “What about Chef Kim?” you ask, eyes glistening in the light, curious beyond belief. “What do you think his ideal is?”   The people around the kitchen hum, speculating over the boss’ preferences. They’re equally intrigued by the question.   “Anyone who won’t shit their pants when he’s around,” Taehyung laughs as he finishes sweeping and pours the grime from the dustpan into the trash.   As Yoongi wraps a bowl, he mindlessly offers, “He seems to like the serious type,”    “What was Jisoo like?” Jihyo asks, tapping her chin with a frown.   “Sophisticated,” Hoseok suggests and you look at him, breathing a sigh of relief. Out of all things, you were definitely not sophisticated. “Gentle.”   “Sweet,” Namjoon says with confidence, having known the man the most after years of working together, “He likes the hard-working and earnest ones who prove themselves to be more than he expects.”   As if summoning the devil himself, Kim Seokjin comes from the back area and walks straight through the kitchen. “Stop slacking,” he states in a monotone and everyone returns to their tasks with a simultaneous ‘yes, chef’.    But as he passes by you, he pauses for a moment. “Everyone needs to leave on time today. If there’s anything that isn’t clean, you need to work together so that it is.”   “Yes, chef,” sounds throughout the kitchen once more.   You know being passive won’t solve anything. You need to actively do something that will repulse him, make it so he’ll vow never to get involved with you. If he makes the decision, fate itself will change and you won’t have to end up together.    The only plausible strategy to repulse you have at the moment is to embody the reverse of what Seokjin’s ideals are. The opposite of what appeals to him — sophisticated, sweet and gentle.   //   It takes you a while to pinpoint what the exact opposite is. But you find it.    Loud. Obnoxious. Aggressive.    You need to be these things in a way that doesn’t get you fired, but just enough that it alters who his match is. Part of you isn't sure you have it in you to be this way, but it’s worth a shot. You’ll do anything to change fate.   “What the hell are you still doing in my kitchen?”   Seokjin is standing meters away, half shrouded in the darkness. Your eyes flicker up at him but you resume dicing the carrots into one inch lengths. Only half the blade is lifted off the wooden cutting board and it descends at a rapid rhythm, rather therapeutic to listen to.   There’s an urge to cower down, but you channel your aggression, pretending it’s Taehyung and not Kim Seokjin — head chef with two Michelin stars — enough money to assassinate you and cover up the crime.   “Everyone went out to have dinner together, but I came back to get a head start on prepping ingredients for tomorrow. I need the practice anyway. Why? Is it a problem?”   The man’s brow is lifted at your upfront behaviour. “Get out. I’ll drive you back.”   “I’m going to finish this first,” you retort without a breath to waste.   Seokjin scoffs and puts down the keys he just grabbed. He sighs exhaustingly and you feel his stare burning into you. It’s hard to ignore it. You even start sweating until he moves towards the fridge, and that’s when you finally steal the chance to peek at him. “Are you going to eat? I can make you something.”   “It’s fine.”   He grabs two eggs, some shredded cabbage, a handful of spinach and a stick of butter. You don’t question it, solely focusing on your task until there’s sizzling on the pan and he leaves the stove to look over you.   “Your technique is poor.”   “What?!” Your voice is loud unintentionally, but you’re wholly shocked. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your knife skills. You’ve spent countless time on refining it and getting it to meet standards.   “You could go faster,” he deadpans. “Your grip is too tense and you’re holding the knife too high up. You want to hold it at that balance point, so you have the most control over it and the weight is properly distributed.” Seokjin smoothly grabs a knife off the rack and holds it in front of you. You copy him. “It's easier to push the blade through when you're holding it there.”   “Like this?” You begin chopping again and he hums.    Against your will, a smile finds your features. It’s the first time he praised you— well...it’s less of a praise and more of a half-hearted noise of approval, but it still counts.   Seokjin takes the pan from the heat and switches it off. He grabs a fork from the drawer to start eating and you look over, finishing the job. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your blatant ogling. “Do you have an issue?”   You smile at him, stepping forward. “Can I have a bite?”   Seokjin scoffs. But you lean over and he steps aside, allowing you to nab a fork from the drawer to take some. It’s not like you’re particularly hungry, but you’re curious as to what he’s made. It’s been a long time since you’ve had food from the head chef himself and asking him for his dinner might just be off-putting enough that he’ll hate you forever. It wouldn’t be impossible considering he’s so picky. You swear, one mistake is all it takes for him to hold a grudge till the day he dies.   Yet, what you don’t expect is for the scrambled eggs to melt on your tongue. He’s sautéd the spinach, left the cabbage undercooked to add a crunch, and the eggs are fluffy in your mouth, a vivid gold that adds to the haphazard presentation. “This...this is delicious!”   He chews in his cheek. “It’s something I eat when there’s nothing in the fridge.”   You’re amazed. The fact that Kim Seokjin can’t recognize his own ingenuity is painful. “You should add this to the menu.”   He scoffs. “You think I would add scrambled eggs next to the caviar and truffle? I think you forgot this is a fine dining restaurant.”   “It’s fine,” you mumble. “I mean if it tastes good, it tastes good, right, chef?”   A tiny smile fixes at his visage, tugging his plump lip upwards. “You sure have a lot more opinions tonight.”   “Well, I’ve decided to speak my thoughts more,” you hum, scooping up another spoonful of his meal. Your eyes flicker up as you chew with your mouth wide open. “Why? Is it unattractive?”   “It’s interesting,” he says with a smile that’s more visible until he barks, “Hurry up eating so I can drive you home.”   You scoff at him as he walks away and you finish his dinner off.   //   Everyone’s on edge.   “It’s more akin to pretentious artwork without any real flavour than real food,” Hoseok reads from his phone to the entire kitchen. “Head chef, Kim Seokjin, is not far from what his cooking lacks too. A pretentious and egotistical nature, it’s no wonder his personal life is in shambles.”   Your fist tightens. Not only did the published article criticize his dishes, claiming it lost its touch and that he’s lost his roots, but they attacked his personality. His personal life. Going into detail of how his relationship was broken off unexpectedly.    “Oh shit,” Taehyung exhales.   “Was that really posted online for everyone to see?” Jihyo asks in a pitched voice, equally horrified and panicked.   Hoseok nods and before anyone can say anything, the backdoor is heard. Without prompting, everyone swiftly moves to their station, not uttering a single peep. Seokjin comes in, his expression unchanged and he deadpans the usual greeting as he moves past the kitchen.   Your face above his head hasn’t changed. But you know it’s not the time to dwell on it.   For the rest of the shift, Taehyung’s on his best behaviour and neither Jihyo nor Yoongi make snarky comments. It’s come at a cost — the morale is lower than usual. The atmosphere is tense and even Namjoon’s earnest encouragement can’t help.   Out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but watch Seokjin. He doesn’t make mention to the article, yet by the deep furrow of his brow, you can tell he’s in a grumpy mood. It’s understandable. But you wonder why it seems like he’s less angry and more hurt.   If it were you, you’d be furious. The personal details of your life outed publicly and not only were your skills scrutinized, but your personality too.    Seokjin was cheated on and now chastised. Even if he’s resilient, it’s too much for anyone to take. It doesn’t look like he has friends to rely on either.   “Are you coming, Y/N?” Jihyo asks, turning around as you linger behind her. The restaurant’s lights are turned off, the kitchen long cleaned and your clothes changed into a fresh pair that doesn’t reek of dish soap and fish. But you feel unsettled. Like there’s still one more thing you haven’t finished doing.   “No, it’s alright. I forgot something. You can go right ahead.”   She nods, joining the others and you walk to the back, pushing the doors of the kitchen open.   There’s still a light on and you find Seokjin sitting on a stool by a counter. He looks up at you, visage in a neutral state. Neither a frown nor a smile. “What are you still doing here?”   Your hand tightens on your bag strap and you approach him. “Are you okay?”   Seokjin smiles at you. For the first time, it isn’t mocking — it’s gentle and tinged with sadness. The corner of his plump lips quirk ever so subtly and his arm extends, hand plopping on top of your head before it slides off. “I’m fine. It’s still early enough that I don’t need to drive you. You should go home before the sun completely sets.”   Wordlessly, you begin to walk away.   But then a sharp inhale is stolen through your parted lips. Before you can second guess yourself, you grab Kim Seokjin. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he glares at you.    “We should go out for a drink.” You don’t waver even with the incredulous look on his face. “What’s wrong? Never had a drink with an employee before? It looks like you need one and I’ll only offer once. I’m pretty busy myself, you know.”    It’s aggressive, obnoxious, a bit loud. It’s all the things you suppose he dislikes in a person, yet somehow the two of you have never been closer.   You end up in some hole in the wall, drinking shots of soju that burn its way down your throat. Seokjin sits across from you with an amused smile on his face that’s so irritating you want to slap it off, and you damn yourself for letting it slip your mind that you’re a lightweight.   “Aren’t you hurt, Kim?” The words slightly slur on your tongue. “‘s ridiculous! To criticize your food is one thing, but to criticize your personality and talk about your personal life ‘s just crossing the line!”    His lips pull, his eyes flicker down to the empty bottle beside you. “Yeah. It is.”   “Then why aren’t you mad?!” Your fist pounds the wooden table. “Getting cheated on is sad enough! Why do they gotta rub it in, huh?” His brow lifts, but you continue, “should sue them!”   Seokjin exhales on a sip. “It’s part of the business.”   “No, ’s not!”   “It was my ex who told them anyway. She’s upset that I kicked her out of the apartment.”   “Then that’s more reason to be mad!” You press your face into your hands, angry at how he’s not angry. “How can you be so nice? How can you be so nice and no one knows it?!”   Seokjin smiles to himself.   “This freaking sucks,” you moan.   He sighs at your drunken state and orders water for you. The old lady tottles by with a big smile and you get a chance to see the cloud of fog and the face above her head. “I brought the bean sprouts back,” her husband calls from the entrance at the same time with a grocery bag.   “I’ll be right there.” She places the glass down in front of you. “Here you go.”   Jealousy colours you pink inside. “You met your soulmate,” you exhale at her quietly.   The woman’s eyes twinkle. “That old man? He gives me more headaches than anything. I’d rather this handsome man be my soulmate,” she quips, casting a glance at an embarrassed Seokjin who thanks her for her compliment.   Her husband calls her again and she hurries back.    Seokjin leans forward with a skeptical look. “Are you okay?”   “I’m envious,” you sigh wistfully, looking on at the married couple at the back with your chin rested in your palm. After a moment, you shift towards the man across from you. Seokjin really is handsome. “I come from a long line of matchmakers, you know, and I have this ability.”   He plays along. “What ability?”   “I see the faces of who people are gonna end up with.” You drink the water, cooling your throat, but above the rim of the glass, you recognize his scoff and amusement. The glass slams down on the table in your protest. “It’s true! It’s been like that since I was a baby!”    “Okay, okay. I believe you.”   He clearly doesn’t believe you.   Irritated, you straighten your spine. “A long, long time ago back in High School, I really, really, really liked this guy.”    Seokjin’s brows raise, not sure where you’re going with this. “Alright…?” He nudges the glass of water back to you.    “I knew he wasn’t gonna end up with me, but he asked me out. And like a total idiot, I-I went out with him anyway. Then guess what happened?”   He has no idea.    A thick lump forms in your throat and makes it hard to speak. “He met the girl he‘s supposed to end up with, so I broke it off. They got married a year after high school. So I was right. I was...right.” Tears flood your vision, clouding the dark-haired man in front of you. You forgo the water for the shot Seokjin poured himself and you down it.    You were right. But it hurt.   Seokjin’s voice is soft, though it does little to console you. “So….because of your ‘ability’, you haven’t gone out with anyone else?”   You nod. “I’d be setting myself up for a failure anyway.” Your head lifts and your tired gaze connects with his. “My family wanted me to be a matchmaker like them. But I love, love, love cooking and I wanna be a chef. Like you.”   The corner of his mouth quirks. You’re honest — in a way he wouldn’t have expected from sober you. But he doesn’t mind it whatsoever.   “I know you don’t believe me. But look.” You reach over, tapping him relentlessly on the shoulder and your hand barely comes to cover your mouth as if you’re children exchanging secrets across the table. “See those two women over there? They’re gonna end up together.”   Your whispers are all too loud and Seokjin glares, not sure if you’re hysterical or delusional. Or both.   You turn to the window and he follows your line of sight. At the same time, a couple holding hands passes by and you shake your head. “They don’t end up together.”   “How do you know?”   “I already said! I see it. Above their heads.” Then you turn your head, looking at him. Seokjin’s startled, having not realized that you’ve leaned in so close, that your faces are mere inches away. But before he can shift back, your lip pulls and you murmur, “We’re supposed to end up together.”   His brow raises.   “It was gonna be someone else. Then one day, you came into work and poof! It was my face! Just like that. I almost got a heart attack, you know!” Giggles start to spill out of you. “It was a huge shock cause I always thought I was gonna be alone since I can’t see my own. Well, sometimes fate changes, so it might change again! Don’t worry!”   He exhales, squeezing out the air from his lungs. He stands, grabbing his coat and then tugging your arm up. “You’ve had too much to drink. C’mon. Let’s go.”   “Aye, aye, captain— I mean chef!”   His smile is small, but all too evident. He should smile more, even if it ruins the cold and aloof exterior he’s got going on. It’s cute and makes him look younger. So you express the idea and he chops your head lightly with his hand and gives you a rather gentle ‘shut up’ that has you grinning more.    //   The sunlight burns your vision and there’s a pounding headache at your temples.   There’s an overwhelming urge to pull the covers over your head, but as the slits of your eyes open and you realize there’s a strange floral scent to the sheets, you bolt upwards.   It hurts all the senses in your body, but your eyes register the neat recipe books lined on the shelf, trophies and certificates on the walls, a poster of the planets, a telescope and Kim Seokjin’s family picture by his nightstand. And then you scream.   “Christ. Relax!” He appears at the doorway, eyeing you with his arms crossed. “You were drunk, so I took you home.”   Absentmindedly, you tug the covers up to your chest in spite of still wearing the same clothes from last night. Your dry voice croaks out. “We...we didn’t do anything scandalous did—”   “No!” He shuts the thought down before it runs wild in your head and Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do anything to you, jesus christ, woman! Just get up. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll make you some breakfast and a hangover drink.”   You follow his instructions, cleaning yourself up to the best of your abilities with the limited supplies, but it’s surreal to be in Seokjin’s penthouse. It’s clean and organized, like you expected, though a lot more cozy and warm. You didn’t know he traveled so frequently and that he had an interest in astronomy — if there’s anything the telescope and posters tells you.   “Stop snooping,” he calls out from the kitchen, looking up to where you’re investigating his movie collection. You come over with a half-hearted apology and he sets down a bowl of oatmeal and a mysterious concoction in a tall glass. Both taste heavenly, enough to work up your appetite ten folds.   But then he says, “Eat fast. It’s a special day today.”   You’re not sure what he means by it, but you simply nod and nurse your headache.   You remember what you told him last night, how you revealed all your secrets in one long tangent and you cringe at yourself. Seokjin probably thinks you’re a complete nut.   But strangely enough, when you look at the cloud above his head, your face hasn’t changed.   “Why are you staring?”   “I’m not,” you mutter and tear your eyes away, unsuspecting to his smile.   But in spite of how close and upfront you might’ve gotten with Seokjin, he still tells you to walk to work yourself — that it’s close enough and too much of a hassle if he drives you. So you cuss him out as you’re striding down the block as he zooms past you in his expensive vehicle.   You hope he notices your glare from across the kitchen, but if he does, he doesn’t comment.   “Today, we have some special guests for dinner service. A few of my friends will be coming and one of them will be proposing, so let’s make sure we give them a good dinner and memory.”   “Yes, chef.”   The news is exciting and even puts a buzz in the kitchen. “Finally, we’re doing something cool,” Taehyung says to you with a swollen smile. “I love a good proposal story.”   “Always the one watching the proposal, never the one getting proposed to,” Yoongi quips as he brushes past and Hoseok snickers.   “Hey, I’m working on it!”   “I’m surprised Seokjin actually has friends though,” Jihyo comments and right when Yoongi turns to add something, they both pale as Seokjin strides past. He glares at them and is even more frightening in his silence. They immediately apologize and he hums, moving out the kitchen.   You, Hoseok, and Namjoon laugh.   Evening eventually comes and Seokjin temporarily calls a halt to the kitchen in favour of his old friends meeting his staff. It’s unusual to see him in such a good mood, smiling and being sociable. It’s strange in general to see this side of him, but it’s not unwelcome whatsoever.   There’s seven of them, a mix of females and males, and you follow Hoseok’s lead in greeting and shaking their hands. Quickly, you recognize who's going to be proposing to who tonight. It’s not hard to miss considering the man is visibly nervous and the close female by his side keeps glancing at him in worry.   “Are you alright, Jimin?”   “Huh? Yeah.” The blonde with full cheeks and soft features smiles timidly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s dressed too nicely for this to merely be a dinner. “I’m fine. Just not feeling well.”   “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the clinic?” The short-haired female asks, concern evident in the faint knot between her brows. “There’s one down the street. I can go with you.”   “I’ll keep an eye on him, Yuri,” the man who introduced himself as Jungkook reassures her, “If anything I’ll take him.”   “Jimin’s just excited to try out the food.” Seokjin grins, drawing attention away from his friend. “Rest assured, everyone will feel better after eating and if you get sick tonight, it’s not food poisoning, alright?”   There’s laughter in the group and another says, “You’ve been bragging about your restaurant for so long, I thought you were never going to invite us to eat here.”   “Well, we’re usually booked full house, but it’s a slower season so I thought why not.”   Yet the conversations drown away from your ears as your eyes unintentionally flicker upwards. You don’t mean to — it’s still a habit you’re trying to break. But you feel blood drain from your face as you discern the image that emerges from the fog above Jimin’s head and above Yuri’s.   “Y/N?” Taehyung waves his hand in front of your eyes and you snap out of your trance. “Why are you staring into space? We’re going back.”   “O-Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something.”   You return to the kitchen, forcing yourself to focus and getting back to your task.    It’s none of your business. You know better than to involve yourself and it’s not like anyone would believe you in the first place. People’s lives have nothing to do with you. You have to turn a blind eye. It’s none of your business, it’s none of your business—   But as you leave to the back area to grab ingredients, you catch the man leaving the bathroom. “Oh, you’re one of Seokjin’s chefs right?” Jimin stops and smiles at you, inhibiting your escape.   You shake your head. “I-I’m only a kitchen assistant.”   “But you’re still part of his staff.” His eyes are rounded and bright. “Is he mean at all? We’ve been trying to squeeze it out of him, but he won’t give us any details. I heard a bit of shouting, so I was curious.”   “Oh, he’s always shouting.” The corner of your mouth quirks and Jimin grins. “He’s a bit mean, but Chef Kim’s just serious about his work and we respect him for it.”   “It seems like you understand him better than I do. Anyway, the soup was amazing. I already told Jin, but I thought I should let you know since you’re the one who brought it out to us.”   “Thank you.” Your eyes travel above his head and then you notice the way he’s fiddling with a box inside his pants pocket. You swallow hard. “Are you proposing tonight?”   Jimin’s head whips up. “How’d you know?”   “Chef Kim let all of us know, so we can make sure it’s a memorable dinner service.”   His expression softens and he bobs his head. Jimin takes out the ring box and studies it carefully. “I am. I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I know she’ll say yes, but I’m still nervous. She’s the love of my life and these things only happen once,.”   “Well….” You give an awkward chuckle. “Sometimes it happens more than once for people.”   “Not for us,” Jimin declares in such self-assurance that it’s uncomfortable. His smile filled with affection doesn’t help either. “She’s the one. I don’t think I’ll love anyone more than her.”   Your pupils flicker up to the cloud above his head that says otherwise. It gnaws at you, mocking you, and you’re uncertain if you can sleep tonight if you don’t say at least something. So you take the leap. “Are….you...sure?”   “What?”   “Never mind.” You turn around, having regretted it the moment it spilled. “Please enjoy dinner!”   “Wait!” The man unexpectedly grabs you out of sheer instinct, halting you in your spot. He searches your face while his own crumples into a frown. “Did Yuri say something to you?”   “No!” you frantically spit before taking a deep breath to calm down. “I’m just….I just….” The philosophy you’ve forced yourself to take collapses at his earnest visage. You were never good at being unattached. “D-Do you think this is a good idea? Are you absolutely sure about this?”   “What’s going on here?” There’s a lower voice, a husky timbre. Seokjin stands at the end of the dark corridor and all traces of his outgoing personality are gone. It’s replaced with the serious demeanour you’re used to. He beckons you. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Y/N?”   Jimin returns back to the table, even more unnerved than before while you’re pulled outside.   You feel small with your back against the brick and Seokjin looming over you. “What the hell are you doing?”   You flinch from his tone.    You’ve never seen him so angry. He isn’t shouting, screaming or imposing. But the irritation seethes out of him, simmering underneath his skin. You swallow hard, downcast eyes searching the gravel. You think about how dark it’s getting with the sun setting over the horizon. “I…”   “Are you seriously trying to talk him out of it?! What gives you the right—”   You snap. There’s no reason he should be upset, no reason you should be treated this way. So with your teeth gritted, you give him the truth that’s hard to hear. The truth that you alone must bear. “They’re not going to end up together!”    “What?”   Seokjin wears the same incredulous look from last night. It’s futile.   Still, your mouth runs off into mumbles, “I can see it above their faces. That woman, Yuri, she’s…..paired with that other man. Jungkook.”   You give up. Waving the white flag. In the silence that follows, you expect Seokjin to fire you, or call the nearest hospital. Either you’re a nut or unsuitable to work in his kitchen. Maybe both.   What you don’t anticipate is his startled expression, horrified as if you just told him there’s a ghost behind him. “How….how’d you know that?” The syllables unusually stutter out of him. It’s not like Seokjin to be inarticulate. “Jungkook hasn’t told anyone he loves her except for me.”   It’s your turn to be surprised. The quietness lingers. Then, he sighs.   “Don’t get involved,” he scolds, gentler than before. At the same moment, there are cheers from inside that leak out — clapping and hollering — you know Jimin’s proposed.   Seokjin turns away, returning to the restaurant floor and you resume your position in the kitchen. Jihyo asks if there’s anything wrong, but you brush her off. For the rest of the night, you concentrate on your job and Seokjin’s friends bid farewell after their stomachs are full from dessert and there’s a diamond on Yuri’s finger.   “Job well done everyone.” Seokjin has a satisfied look when he returns and Namjoon shares a smile with everyone. Clean up finishes soon after, but before you can leave, he calls you specifically. “Y/N, come here.”   Taehyung looks at you with widened eyes, but you don’t utter a word, staying behind. The kitchen filters out and even Yoongi sends a sympathetic look your way before departing. It’s never a good thing to be called back.   You brace yourself. If Seokjin didn’t make a scene firing you earlier than certainly will now. There’s no reason not to — you tried to stop an engagement between his close friends and he probably thinks you’re psychotic.   You stand there in silence for a good minute as he fills out some paperwork. It feels like you’re in the principal’s office. Then, the corner of his mouth moves as he casts a glance at you. “Sometimes you borrow the kitchen to practice, right? You can practice tonight.”   Confusion renders you immobile, filling your mouth with cotton, but you manage a slight nod.   You start to chop vegetables into bowls, dicing and mincing ingredients that will be needed for tomorrow. All the while, Seokjin sits meters away from you with a bunch of papers. Either doing his taxes or filing a report to admit you into the hospital. You’re not sure which one it is.   But halfway through, he pipes up again. “You should make something for the two of us to eat.”   “Yes, chef.” On any other night, you would be bursting with excitement, knowing it was a chance to impress him. But now you wonder if this will be your last chance to cook.    Within minutes, you have a pot on the stove, boiling for ten minutes.   “Sit down,” he commands, motioning to the other stool and you oblige.   Seokjin makes drinks in the meanwhile, asking what you want. When you mumble anything’s fine, he pulls out a few bottles from the back cabinet and starts mixing. You didn’t know he can bartend, but it’s almost expected that Kim Seokjin can do anything at this point.   The atmosphere is terribly awkward, so you exhale from your nose and speak up, “I’m sorry. I...I know I stepped out of line. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I’m really so—”   “I believe you,” Seokjin interjects, gaze meeting yours across the counter. Your breath hitches. “I didn’t believe you at first. About the whole ability thing. But when you told me that Jimin and Yuri won’t make it, I knew there was no other possible way.” He pours the drink into two glasses. “Jungkook and Yuri grew up together. He told me a long time ago he was in love with her and I was sworn to secrecy. No one else knows. Not his brother, his mom, or Jimin.”   He passes it to you and sighs, taking a sip. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop Jimin or to help Jungkook. It’s something they have to figure out on their own.”   You nod, gripping the stem of the glass. “I know.”   There’s a pregnant pause.    You lift your eyes and it connects with Seokjin’s. Instantly, you feel yourself breaking into a sweat at how intense he looks at you. “Is it true then?” he asks in the quaintness of the kitchen, his voice thick and low. “Are we going to end up together?”   “It might change!” The words come out all too frantically in fear he’ll freak out like you did. You know it’s a lot to take in. “Things change all the time. You were supposed to end up with Jisoo, but then, but then things happened so….nothing’s ever certain. It all depends on our actions and choices. I know you don’t like people like me. I don’t have anything to offer you anyway—”   “You need to have more confidence in yourself.”   Your voice dies on your tongue. Seokjin’s staring at you again in a way that makes your palms clammy, so intense that you wonder if he’s scrutinizing your pores. You swallow hard, tearing your own gawking away until you hear sizzling. The two of you turn to where the pot is almost over boiling and you run over, grabbing it off the stove. “I-It’s done.”   He grabs bowls as you set it down and uncover the lid.    “What do we have here?”   You’re embarrassed. It’s nothing like his fine dining dishes, or even his comfort food that somehow tastes like heaven. “It’s just carrot and potato curry stew. It’s actually something my family cooks…..so it’s nothing fancy.”   Seokjin’s spoon dips into the liquid and it’s your turn to watch intently.   He smells it, sips and his expression is kept blank.   You stand. “I can throw it out if you want—!”   “Why are you so jumpy today?” The corner of his plump lips curls. “And why would I want to throw out something so delicious?”   Your heart stutters in your chest and tears fill your vision. He might not fire you after all and on top of that, both your inborn ability and cooking skills have been validated. You feel overwhelmed. Especially when he finishes his first bowl and goes for seconds.    “This is what I’ve been missing in my cooking,” Seokjin murmurs with a tiny smile. “When they said I was missing my roots, I think I know what they mean now. Thank you, Y/N.”   You’re not sure who’s filled with more gratitude.   He smiles and you nod at him earnestly, speechless on what to say.   At the end of the night, Seokjin drives you home in his black Mercedes. A kind of lull fills that car and it isn’t frightening like it usually would be. Rather, it’s comfortable. A little too short lasting. He parks the car at the curb in front of your apartment and you get out.   “Thank you.”   Yet after you shut the door, he rolls down the window and stops you. “Y/N.”   You look at him and he smiles again. A phenomenon that used to be so rare that seems to happen frequently now. “I hope it doesn’t change.”   Kim Seokjin gazes at you, eyes connected across the distance that feels like it’s closing. He never wavers and a lump forms into your throat. “Are we going to end up together?” — Your own words echo in the recesses of your mind— “It might change! Things change all the time.”   But here he is. Going against all your efforts of trying to change fate itself. “I hope it doesn’t change. And I hope you don’t want it to change either.”   Seokjin drives off, leaving you absolutely stunned.   You wonder if he knows what he’s saying. But as you watch his car fade into the distance, somehow you’re not appalled or scared at the idea of being with him anymore.

The kitchen is an organized pandemonium.   A place where everyone knows exactly what they’re supposed to do and moves in fluid motions by one another, like a busy crosswalk in the downtown area. It’s a kind of silent teamwork and while you’re merely helping Taehyung chop vegetables or washing the accumulated dishes, you know your role is still an important one. You just wish you could a little more.   The moment the back door creaking can be heard, everything comes to a halt. Seokjin rounds the corner as everyone simultaneously greets him. “Good afternoon, chef.”   “Afternoon.” There’s a smile on his features, one that surprises a few and makes the others unsettled. “There’s going to be a special menu item today, so I want that prepared as soon as possible.”   He hands the new recipe to Namjoon who frowns upon the sprawled notes. “Carrot...and potato soup with chickpea crumble?”   “If you need details, ask Y/N,” Seokjin says with a tiny smile. “It’s her recipe.”   At once, everyone turns to you with shocked expressions. It’s one thing for Seokjin to suddenly introduce something new, but to introduce yours, it’s both unprecedented and a privilege.   You stare at him and his smile widens slightly. “I hope you don’t mind.”   “N-Not at all.”   The daily tasks commence, but not without a pat on the back from Yoongi, a congratulations from Jihyo and a smile sent your way by Taehyung. Namjoon and Hoseok ask for your help and it’s the first time you’re not just mincing garlic in the corner or washing a stack of dishes. Pride bursts through you and you look across the kitchen to Kim Seokjin. He scoffs at how big your smile is, feigns a glare and tells you to get back to work.   The rest of the dinner service goes smoothly. Your appetizer gets compliments from several and you couldn’t be any happier, even when everyone’s left and you’re still scrubbing dishes.   There’s a click of a tongue beside you. Seokjin stands with his arms crossed. “You always find ways to make me pay you overtime. Move over.” He rolls up his sleeves and helps you wash the last pots and pans.   “Thank you for today. It was a good surprise.”   He hums and the pair of you finish up before he tells you to unload the dishwasher tomorrow. “Go change and grab your coat. It’s getting late.”   “Are you going to drive me home?”   “No. We’re going to scope out some competition.”   “Competition?”   “We’re going to eat at a restaurant called Dog World,” Seokjin brushes off quickly, but when you continue to blink at him, he sighs and waves you off. “Don’t ask too many questions, alright? This is my excuse for asking you out on a date.”   If you weren’t caught off guard before, you’re wholly stunned speechless now. A deer in headlights. And it makes the older bastard grin widely.   “Don’t worry.” His voice knocks down into a gentler tone. “You can reject me if you want. I don’t want you to be pressured because I’m your boss, even though I don’t think that matters to you. But you should also know I’m not doing this because of what you see.” He gestures above his head, unknowingly batting the cloud of fog you can perceive. “I’m doing this because I want to.”   It sinks into you and your head tilts to your shoulder. “You….want to go out on a date with me?”   The corner of Seokjin’s lip pulls and he diverts his vision elsewhere. You notice how his ears are turning red. “Ever since you sat down with me and told me that getting cheated on was sad enough and that they shouldn’t rub it in.”   There’s silence. The first stretch of it is because you genuinely don’t know what to say to him. But the second stretch that follows is when you realize just how nervous he is and there’s a ruthless urge to keep him on the edge. You make him simmer in fear, a similar kind to the countless ones he’s given you during stressful shifts in the kitchen.   There’s something powerful yet endearing about how Kim Seokjin anticipates your answer.   You never thought he could be this way. He just keeps surprising you.   When you can’t contain it anymore, you burst out laughing.   “I’ll accept on the condition that if you take my recipe permanently, you’ll need to pay me royalties appropriately. Don’t think I won’t take you out to court, Kim.”   Seokjin grins and for the first time, certainty sews into you. You have a feeling fate isn’t going to change and you hope it doesn’t either.

[Epilogue]   The kitchen is your home.   You’re sure Jin would adamantly argue that the house was perfectly fine to be considered your home, but there’s still a charm to the busy kitchen that has drawn you in since childhood. Even if the heat swelters in the still air and is stifling, even when grease and oil splatter and stains your clothes, the effort in cooking makes the food that comes from it even more delicious.   “What is this?”    All heads turn at your voice and you motion to the plate about to be brought out. “The rice is on the wrong side of the plate! Re-do this, and watch the plating people! I know it’s easy to forget but it’s important to be consistent with the presentation!”   “Yes, chef!”   It’s strenuous and difficult to be here. It took years to get to where you are, but you wouldn’t trade it in for anything. The reward is worth it. You love your job — maybe even more than Jin, and while you’re sure he wouldn’t be surprised, he’d still playfully whine about being casted aside.   The rest of the night goes off without a hitch and once the kitchen is all clean, you switch off the lights and lock the doors. And like magic, the person you’ve been thinking about all day is leaning against the car parked on the curb, arms crossed as he stares out into the starry sky.   “About time. I’ve been waiting for the past twenty minutes.”   You scoff with a smile and discern the cold cloud emitting from his lips each time he exhales.   This is the exact opposite of what you intended to happen. Sometimes you wonder if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy — by knowing he was going to be with you and trying to avoid it, you inadvertently made him closer to you. But whatever the case may be, you’re glad for the outcome.   You close the distance and slap your hands against his frozen cheeks, trying to warm them up. A smile tugs on your features. “Sorry. You’re cold, aren’t you? You should’ve just waited in the car.”   “But I wanted to see you right away,” he mutters, putting his hands on top of yours to keep you there, then he adds, “and it gives me reason to do this.” Seokjin grins and leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips, one that you smile into.   If any of his old kitchen staff or even the current group saw him now, they’d faint with how grossly affectionate he was being. Then again, they might just be used to it considering Jin hasn’t ever paid mind to other people. He’s never been one to opt out of public displays of affection either.   “You know I’ve been thinking lately.”   “About?”   “How hard I tried to get rid of you and how I couldn’t. You’re kind of like a pest.”   Your husband of two years straightens his spine, wholly offended. “Pest?”   Laughter bubbles out of your chest and you press another chaste kiss to his lips before you’re pushing him aside to get into the car. Seokjin chuckles, rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat.   “Are you hungry?”   “Not really.”   “Namjoon and Taehyung want us to go to the opening of their restaurant.”   “Their opening event lasts for three days right? We can always go tomorrow.” You turn to him as he pulls off, driving down the street. “I’m kind of craving your comfort food tonight.”   Jin grins, easily obliging while your eyes flicker up to the cloud of fog above his head. You see yourself smiling as widely as you are now, and you’re thankful you have your ability.

[stackofstories]

Title: ?????

Part 2/?

“Is your cabin broken?” Nico asked.

Connor laughed as he side-eyed Nico, his twinkling excitement dimmed into a nervy unsureness, as he stared at his home for the next foreseeable future. To be fair to Nico, he and his brother experiences were similar. After they toured the horseshoe of cabins from the imperious cabin of dear Zeus-y to the angry cabin of Ares, Hermes was kinda sad.

Long and boxy, in dire need of fresh coat of brown paint, it was worn. Their caduceus, Dad’s special symbol, hung sideways on the arch of their screendoor. And they were missing the other half to their “11”.

“No, it’s not broken.” Travis calmed down first. “But the inside is better.”

“Not by much,” Connor said.

“Shut up. Don’t listen to him.”

Nico bit his lip. “Okay,” he said, and Connor only half believed him. Travis stepped forward swinging the door open wide, dramatically gesturing for Nico to go in.

Nico didn’t lack guts. Connor could say that much. The boy swept up the creeping stairs going through the threshold without tripping over his own feet, which most face planted over onto the wooden planks. Connor rubbed his face thinking about it.

“This cabin eleven,” Connor addressed with a grand sweeping arm.

Most of his siblings were out of their beds. The undetermined orange bedrolls were neatly stacked against the walls. It was a bit better this way, Connor acknowledged. Without an audience.

“Hermes–”

“He flies!” Nico gasped. His two dark pools of his eyes bright with each emotion racing across them. Honest, Connor thought. He never met someone so honest. “I’ve got his figurine with the other ten. I’m just missing Hades. It’s in my room at Westover. And Hermes has a holocard. He has mid attack points, but when you send him to the Hades, he gets so more powerful.”

“Nico, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But it sounds pretty cool,” Travis said.

His brother was rewarded with a large grin.

“As I was saying, Hermes, our father is the god of boundaries, communication, thieves, commerce, speed, cunning–”

“Get to the point before he’s old enough to drive please,” Connor said.

Travis shot him a nasty glare. “And roads and travelers. Therefore, all the undetermined fall under his domain.”

Nico nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his eyebrows pulled together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring a gift.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. If you really want to thank us, scrap some food to dad tonight and indulge us in a game of poker,” Connor said.

“I’ve never played poker.”

“We’ll teach you the rules,” Connor said. “Isn’t that right, Trav.”

“Right, brother.” Travis disappeared from their side.

The Hermes cabins were known as their father as divine tricksters. When demigods played games with them, they inevitably accused them of cheating. It wasn’t true. For the most part. Travis and Connor explained the rules fair and square it wasn’t their fault if games fell under their domain and they were so much better at playing than other people.

“Wait. You’re not Travis,” Nico glanced at him.

“I’m Connor,” Connor said. “People mix me and Travis up all the time.”

Nico went quiet. Then, he said, “I won’t mix you two up.” Very importantly.

“Uh huh,” Connor said. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

“I’ve got your sleeping bag, tooth brush, bar of soap.” Travis reappeared with all Nico’s belongings gathered under one arm.

A thought occurred to him. It was all so small. Most of the demigods, the lucky ones whatever that meant, came with something. Sometimes they came with nothing. Like him and Travis. But it was all so small. Just the clothes on Nico’s back.

“We’ll steal some stuff for you,” Connor said, “You’ll wake up tomorrow and think Christmas came early.”

“Stealing is wrong,” Nico said.

Connor and Travis shared one look before they burst out laughing. Stealing was wrong. What a joke.

“Sometimes it’s necessary.” Travis handed the belongings to Nico. It covered his torso. “Here comes the fun part. Where do you wanna sleep. You’ve got any spot on the floor.”

Nico hummed. “Where do you guys sleep?”

“We’ve got our own room. Camp co-counselors.”

Connor was expecting a that’s so cool. Maybe an explosive awesome! But Nico fixed Connor with an unimpressed set of eyes and face. “I get the a piece of the floor.”

“It’s a comfy floor,” Travis said.

“You’re not a very good liar, you know.” Nico sniffed.

“All the undetermined sleep on the floor,” Connor said, narrowly avoiding the elbow dug into his side.

“But. I don’t want to sleep on the floor,” Nico said. “It’s dirty.”

It was dirty. Connor didn’t remember the last time he assigned chores. No wonder Silena refused to come into their cabin.

“It could use a little dusting,” Connor said. “But those are the rules.” Official beds for official campers and not even Nico’s self righteous look was going to change that.

For a moment, it seemed as if Nico was going to just accept it. But, they hadn’t used their silver tongue abilities and Nico proved himself to be made off tougher stuff even against older kids. “You said we’re playing poker right?”

“Yeah…” Connor scratched his cheek.

“There are winners and losers, right? What if I win at poker, I get to have my own bed.”

“I don’t know, Nico. We usually play for money,” Travis said. “Really the floor isn’t so bad. I’ll get Spencer to sweep and mop.”

“I have money,” Nico said. “Dad gave us allowance while we were at Westover. But, I wanna play for this too.”

Connor and Travis traded glances. Its language itself. They go back and forth. Until they settled on why not. They hadn’t turned down a game before and they weren’t going to stop now even if regret was all they left behind.

“Sure,” Travis said. “If you win, you may choose any bed in the den. And other proceedings won in the poker bed.”

“And if you’ll lose you’ll have to sleep on the floor. No pouting. I expect a stiff upper lip.”

Nico nodded. He dropped his stuff on the floor. “I don’t cry. I’m ten years old.”

“Right. Of course. While I recommend you hide your stuff as best as you can before our siblings come back. They’ll pickpocket you clean if you aren’t keen.”

“Mean,” Nico said. But he did as he was told and scampered into the next room, their room, and dropped his stuff off probably on his bunk.

“What. Your co-counselors and you’re older. They probably won’t go in there.” Cheeky little shit. “What now? Ooh, do you have any secret passages. The movie said–”

“We show you around before dinner tonight,” Connor said. “After dinner. We play our poker game.”

[damselofblueroses]

The Name of the Rose

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Second chapter, the Hunter and the Goddess is out :)

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter 1: The Hunter and the Gazelle

Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.

You were excited.

No, it was not the correct word to be used. You were hyperactive, more than your usual self, and God knows that everyone could testify on how hectic your personality was. According to your family and very close friends, you were a walking catastrophe, funny but a fucking tease and potentially dangerous for environment.

And now, as you had been waiting for your flight, you could not manage to even stay still. Your hands were everywhere, you proved yourself again by dismantling your tote bag as poor thing was on your lap and you were playing with it unconsciously.

“Enough.” you heard your companion’s baritone voice tone. “If you will continue like this, you have to buy your belongings again in Japan. Do you have that much money?”

He reached to you and took the bag from your lap. For a second, his fingers brushed your thighs, and you lost your concentration during that fucking second.

Focus! you told yourself.

“I can always lend some money from you.” you cocked one of your eyebrows. “What? Will you bare me from some bucks?”

“Yes.” he was always plain and simple. On the contrary of you. “Unless if it is not a necessary. I am not a guy of sharing.”

What type of guy you are, can you give me a demonstration?

Your trip to Japan made you very excited, but you had to confess at least to yourself in the depts of your mind. What made you frenzied was the presence of your companion.

Doh Kyungsoo.

Your long-term study-buddy. Actually, he was more than a study-buddy, he was a kind of your comfort zone, even though you never express your opinions about him. You have known each other for almost 7 years since the last year of bachelor. Both of you continued your ways in academic world and you were currently being Ph.D. candidates.

To be honest, he never lose his impacts on you. You had a sweet spot for him since almost the beginning of your friendship which made him more than a study-buddy. It did not mean that you were restraining yourself from having dates time to time, but all of them were ended up with the same result.

They were clever and handsome guys, but they were not Doh Kyungsoo.

Sometimes you could not help but wonder, how it would be if you did not meet him as a friend? Could you two manage having a relationship as your best friend, Baekhyun, supported like a bloody zealot? Or one of you would give up as your brother, Jongdae, always believed?

“Hey!” you heard Kyungsoo’s voice and jumped off from the bench. “Come back to your senses or we are going to miss the plane.”

“And you are going to take its money from me.” your murmured inside of your mouth but obliged to what he said by starting to walk. He was generally quiet during flights, but you knew his mouth will not be shut when you will visit the restaurants he wanted to try.

He does not come for Tokyo, he comes for fucking eels, octopuses, or crabs. Kyungsoo and his appetite.

“Naturally.” he approved your words on money, but there was a ghost of smile on his lips. “Since you are the one who became a sleeping beauty.”

Do you think I am beautiful?

This was another problem you had. With Kyungsoo, you were so relaxed, and you felt extremely safe, so you did not need to control yourself as you generally did. Of course, it was a good omen for your friendship, as much as you were sure Kyungsoo never lied to you, it was also a disadvantage on your part, because sometimes you wanted to ask some questions that should be remained in silence.

“If we would be fairy tales,” you smirked. “I would be Belle while you are the Beast.”

“Fine by me.” he shrugged his shoulder. “He is a very good guy. I am happy for Belle; she understands the assignment. You would not most probably.”

“Sweetheart, you are slow to catch the signs.” you playfully smacked his shoulder when you reached to the control point. You thought he would be annoyed, but he stopped and seriously gazed at you. You shivered and wondered why he was looking at you like he wanted to say something.

“What?” you inhaled.

“Since when I am slow to catch the signs?” he pressed on every word of his sentence, and to your dismay he used that voice tone, almost a whisper but goddamn strong. “Give me an example.”

You shuttered down, and this was the last problem you had with Kyungsoo, he was the only one who could make your brain stop working especially in times when the occasion calls for full-speed devilish progress. You just stared at him and shrugged your shoulder.

“Eh Soo,” you murmured. “You missed a lot of beautiful girls, right?”

Your response was so weak even to your ears. If Chanyeol, number two best friend of you, could hear your words, he would burst into laughs by hitting everyone beside him. You could imagine Junmyeon’s disgusted face as a plus.

“I did not miss anyone, my dear.” he chuckled. “Let me rephrase, anyone I want just one exception, but exceptions do not ruin the calculation in your famous mindset.”

When he chuckles, you can feel your blood tension rocks your body. His heart shaped lips does something to you, and you do not want to name it.

“Exceptions run the world, Doh.” you tried to push him to elaborate his words a little bit more. “Who is that lucky girl who run away from you?”

“That’s my secret.” he smirked and put his hand onto your waist in order to led you the controller lady. “Show your passport, I do not want to wait here forever.”

Who was the girl he mentioned? You could not help but started to feel anxious, how much you tried to press your instincts and feelings, whenever he mentioned a girl, there would be a dire need of crying in the pit of your stomach. You took a deep breathe and followed his instruction. While you were walking into the inside of plane, you struggled with the sudden sadness. You wanted to tear that off yourself, so you reminded yourself the splendid trip ahead you. You found your place and processed to sit down.

“May I help?” Kyungsoo asked you but he already fetched your belongings and placed them correctly. You smiled to him and sat down.

How could you meet someone like him? He was a little bit grumpy sometimes, a person who could give unexpected reactions, but he was reliable, kind, lovely and always thoughtful of his environment. You did not want to lose him. You never want to lose him, on the contrary, you want to keep him in your life until the very end. You could not think a life without Kyungsoo, you always desire him to stay your side.

You were pretty sad, you had to admit, and there was regret. You were regretful on your decision to not go further with him, you wished you could be braver and tell him about your feelings for him. How much you were confused because of him, how many days and nights you spent sleepless because of him. To make the things more complicated, you had zero idea about how he would be responded your confession if you pull yourself together and manage to do. For once, you heard his cousin Minseok talked about you by saying you were very important for Kyungsoo, however you did not know in which extent you were important for him.

You two were always closed to each other, you spent almost 3 or 4 days together, you were living in the same campus, your departments were close to each other. He was a huge part of your life, that’s one of the reasons why you were hopelessly trying to conceal your inappropriate feelings for Kyungsoo. The idea of losing his extremely valuable presence was the only scenario could make you sob.

“Am I the only one who is very uncomfortable?” he whispered to your ear and made your stomach twisted. You could kill him for this, but he was not aware of how he affected you. “You are deadly silent.”

“No, I am just thinking.” you run away from him like an Olympic athlete. “About the trip. I am very excited.”

“If you are,” he flinched your forehead. “You have to talk non-stop. You are silent when something bothers you, what are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing, Soo.” you found a smile from somewhere and presented to him. “You know I never find the chance of visiting Japan; I am really overwhelmed.”

“So, speak to me.” he grunted. “Do not act like I am not here.”

“Okey, okey.” you raised your hands to air. “Sorry for that.”

“I start to feel like I am disturbing you.” he turned his head to the Name of the Rosethat he was reading. Umberto Eco, he had a taste for everything of course. “I asked you twice if you are okey with going to Japan with me.”

You could laugh if you were not so tense since he mentioned girls.

“And I told you this is okey, Soo.” you pinched his upper arm. “You are a good companion for trips.”

“Only for trips?” he asked. What the fuck was wrong with Kyungsoo today? He was behaving weird, and his questions made you more baffled. “I thought I am good companion for everything.”

You bit your lips in order to send back the sudden answer you wanted to give. Instead of declaring your ignorance about his performance on everything, you refined your words.

“You are a good friend, Soo and sorry for making you feel unwanted. I am happy you are coming with me.”

“Hm.” he hummed but he did not look like he was satisfied with your answer. You decided to not think about what the heck he wanted to hear, you also turned to your book that you were supposed to read since the departure. At least Pavese helped you to collect your mind till the plane landed in Narita Airport. He helped you while you two took a cab for the way, he was acting like his usual self, so you accused yourself because of searching hidden messages in his questions. You were such an idiot.

“I will be seeing you at dinner.” he waved his hand when you finished the registration process of the hotel you would be staying for the week. You were in front of the elevator. Both of you already decided to take a nap before dinner when you were planning the trip, so you approved his words and took your keys.

“See you.” you smiled and walked to your room. When you opened the door, your smile widened, the room is so light and minimalistic as you really liked. There was no crowded furniture, crazy designs, or unnecessary modifications. The walls were light blue, the furniture was white, and all looked very harmonious. There were plants and flowers, you immediately run to the flowers as you loved them more than anything else. The hotel staff managed to place even Sakura blossoms into the room that made your heart flattered and smoothed your nerves.

And there was only one blue rose, which was your favourite flower in the world. Just one, between a bouquet of daisies and it looked magnificent. You leaned to smell it while smiling as a little freak. You did not have to see your face; you knew how you looked like. Chanyeol always said that when you see a blue rose, you lost your shit. Another creature made you drunk in happiness was white butterflies. You had a sweet spot for blue roses and white butterflies.

And for Kyungsoo.

You grunted to yourself in your mind, and you headed to the bathroom by tapping your feet to the ground harshly. You were done with your obsession with Kyungsoo, it became something out of control, and you were tired of yourself at this point.

You had to live your goddamn life, you had to stop fucking fantasizing about your study-buddy.

You stripped out from your clothes and jumped into the shower. Cold water helped you to take the control of yourself, both as physical and emotional. You were okey, you were in bloody Japan as you always wanted, and you were going to fucking enjoy it. After shower, you threw yourself into the bed, tucked yourself inside the blanket and set the alarm for one hour later.

After one hour, you were swearing at yourself with your very glorious vocabulary because the only thing you did was fantasizing about Doh Kyungsoo.

“Did you rest?” he asked to you while you were leaving the hotel. You held your growl inside. “Did you take a nap?”

“I did not sleep but I leaned down for a while, so it was good. You?”

“I slept like a baby. It was very interesting when you think I am more like an insomniac.”

“I guess, your insomnia is rubbing on me.” you grumbled. “Where are we going now?”

“Eh, at least something about me can rub on you.” he rolled his eyes, your chin was dropped due to his response. “There is a tiny noodle restaurant in Ebisu, but they are very famous. We are going to there.”

“Okey.” you nod and walked beside of him.

“You look very pretty.” he turned to you. “That dress looked very good on you.”

You instantly took a look on your navy, long dress. It was very comfortable, but also elegant and your fashion freak cousin persuaded you the colour and style gave you a

“Thank you.” you replied. “Sehun chose this for me, you know he is the chef kiss when it comes to fashion.”

“He did well.” he smiled. “How is Sehun by the way, I did not see him since ages. Did he come back from France?”

“No.” you pouted. You really missed your noisy cousin. “He just came to visit for a week, then came back to school. I am not sure if he will come back to be honest, he got some important invitations from European universities.”

“Very good.” Kyungsoo’s face was lit up. He was proud of Sehun. “I know you miss him, but he has a bright career ahead of him.”

“Yes, I know.” you also smiled. Thinking about your successful but extremely playful cousin made you happy. “I just worry about him.”

“Stop babying him.” Kyungsoo punched your arm as half serious half joke. “How old is he, 27?”

“Yeah.” you laughed. “I know I baby him very much, but we all do, Kyungsoo.”

“You are just one year older than Sehun.” he smirked. “Who is going to baby you?”

“Chanyeol.” you exhaled. Kyungsoo looked at you for a second, then both of you burst into laughs because it was well known that you also took care of Chanyeol and Baekhyun as well as Sehun. “Jokes aside, I am a strong and big girl, Kyungsoo, I do not need someone babying me.”

“Maybe you can start looking for a sugar daddy to baby you?” he cocked his eyebrows to you. “Before it is going to be too late?”

“Actually, I had some candidates in my pocket.” you devilishly beamed to him. “You have no idea.”

“Beg your pardon?” his face suddenly transformed from joy to deadpanned seriousness, and his smile was disappeared immediately. “I was joking.”

“I was not.” you blinked your eye. “Some people really proposed to me.”

“For being your sugar daddy?”

“I know I am very little in your eyes, Kyungsoo” you took a deep breathe before continuing. “But here the breaking news: some people could find me attractive.”

“We are not talk about usual dates or men.” he held your arm and turned you to himself. “If you receive this kind of proposes, you have to tell me.”

“Next time, I will report you so we can decide who is going to be my sugar daddy.” you poked his ribs while he burrowed his eyebrows and radiated a strong sense of discontent. “Come on Kyungsoo, I am not going to say yes to this type of proposes, what do you think about me?”

“We are always joking about this issue,” he looked like he was cursing beneath his breath. “But when it comes to you and Baekhyun, I always suspect if you are serious or not.”

“Sugar daddy is a joke.” you hissed. “Of course, it is a joke, I have no interest in having a sugar daddy.”

“What about the proposes? Are they real?”

“Well, they are.” you murmured. Suddenly, you felt like the table was turned and you just played your ace card too early. You felt like Kyungsoo’s eyes investigated your soul to the bits.

“How many?”

“Three.” you gave up. “One from faculty, two from outside.”

“Unethical son of bitches.” he lowly cursed and caught you off guard because he generally preferred to use more polite words, even if he was cursing. “Keep them away from yourself.”

“Oh really?” you teased him by hoping to break the strange tension between you and managed to put a little smile on his face.

“Stop mocking me.” he warned you but now he was smiling widely. His mouth became a heart again, this time you averted your eyes from his face.

“Who I am to dare mocking you?” you squeaked but it was fake.

“Oh, you mock me more than even that walking noisy machine Baekhyun.” he flicked his hand. “We have to stop at this station, Ebisu Garden Place is on the way.”

He put his hand onto your waist again, and you felt like electrocuted again. Every time he touched you, and unfortunately, he sporadically did, you felt like you are dying for more. More what? You were not sure what you really wanted from Kyungsoo, but you were certain on you were desperate for more of him.

More of him.

The bus was crowded, Kyungsoo led you to a little corner, and stayed in front of you. He could be a little bit protective when it came to crowded places since you were clumsy, he generally insisted to keep you close to himself in order to catch you, if you would lose your balance, so you did not surprise when he held your wrist.

What made your heart to do a perfect all kill type of somersault was his next move, his fingers did not stop on your wrist, on the contrary they moved into your palm and grasped your hand tightly. You raised your eyes to him, he never hold your hand, never ever.

“I want to be sure.” he whispered by catching your question before you ask. “Since both of us do not know the way, and the bus is full of passengers, this is more secure.”

“Ah.” This was the best of you at the moment. You quickly realized what the heck you said but Kyungsoo sometimes can be quicker than you.

“Why? Are you unsatisfied with the reason?” His dark brown eyes were shining, his perfume smelled fucking good and the proximity between your faces did not help you.

“Why should I be?” you had to be back to play as soon as possible. “I grant you the chance of holding my hand, that’s count as charity.”

He looked at your hand for a moment, and you saw a smile formed on his lips and instead of a sarcastic reply as you expected, his eyes shaped like a crescent and shined as the fucking moon itself during a cloudless, navy night.

“Thank you, your highness.” he genuinely smiled. “May I continue to hold your hand?”

“Why?” the tone of your question was full of surprise, sounded exceptionally strange.

“Because I want to feel you.” he simply answered, and he squeezed your hand a little bit more. “For once let me feel you by my side.”

You knew that your eyes blown up, your mind was playing some tricky and dangerous games with you, you lost your shit, and you were sure about you finally made yourself mad because of your platonic interest in Kyungsoo, but even if God himself would appear in the bus in order to stop you, that would be a fruitless attempt.

You held Kyungsoo’s hand.

If he wanted to feel you by his side, you could not refuse.

You never refuse Kyungsoo.

How could you?

He was the protagonist of your secret dreams, fantasies and your goddam powerful imagination.

He was your gazelle and you were chasing him since the first day you met.

[notkageyamasprincess]

grocery shopping | miya atsumu x reader

request: Grocery shopping with Atsumu. You tell him to pick up some stuffs from the dairy counter(like cheese, milk, etc) but when you see him walking towards you, all he is holding is Family pack Ice creams in different flavours.💕😂 "But they were looking at me like 'pick us up', and so I did🥺", he explains. @nkogneatho

notes: hi dear, sorry this took so long, i was going to write headcannons or a drabble at most and then all sorts of funny ideas started popping up in my head. i included your req ofc but it’s not the main focus if that’s okay.

characters: pro vb player!miya atsumu x f!reader

genre/warnings: mostly crack tbh, fluff, very chaotic, y/n thinks she’s getting kidnapped and freaks, they take a ride on a grocery cart, y/n accidentally finds out her boss is a sugar mommy?,tsumu is a sweet boyfie

words: 1.5k

summary: you take atsumu with you on a shopping trip. chaos ensues.

It probably would have been a smarter choice to pick a day when the supermarket was less busy, but the fridge was almost empty and in dire need of replenishing. Today marks Day 3 of you and Atsumu’s new diet, one that he needs since he’s starting an intense conditioning regimen. You decided to participate as well in order to support him, and to get into the habit of eating healthier yourself.

You leave Atsumu’s side to take a basket, but he beats you to it, wheeling out a shopping cart instead. You tilt your head in puzzlement. “Atsumu, we’re not going to buy that much food, we’ll never finish it all.” He takes your wrist in one hand and starts steering the cart with the other. “You’ll see”

You stop at the fresh produce section, tossing an assortment of fruit and veggies in your trolley as Atsumu perks up beside you, getting an idea. “____, let’s get steak today so I can cook for you.” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical of his abilities. And for good reason. “‘Tsumu, you tried to make me breakfast two weeks ago and I don’t think those eggs were even edible.” He puts a hand on his hip and fakes a pout. “Babe, have some faith in me. ‘Samu might be the chef of the family, but trust me on this, I promise I’m not going to poison you.” Despite still being slightly suspicious, you decide not to question him.

You grab a few salad kits for good measure then pull out your phone to tick off your grocery list. “Bread, check, energy bars, check, produce, check, salad mix, check…okay, I think all that’s left is meat and dairy, let’s go get your steak.” You glance up when he didn’t answer. “‘Tsumu?” Your boyfriend has disappeared and so has the grocery cart.

You look for him in the meat aisle. Nothing. You look in the next aisle. Nothing. You’re about to send him a text when you suddenly feel a pair of hands seize you by waist, taking you away from the secure ground beneath your feet. Your life flashes before your eyes. Headlines of “Missing person, last seen at XX Mart” fills your mind. No way is this happening right now. I am NOT getting abducted in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded grocery store! I have to get help; I can’t go down without a fight.

You yelp while struggling in the hold of your attacker, furiously kicking at empty space. You see an old woman a little farther down the aisle. There’s hope. “Help! Somebod- ” you shriek in panic before a hand comes up to muffle your words. “____! Chill out, it’s me!” You still at the sound of your boyfriend. Too late. The elderly woman approaches you, swinging her cane and nearly whacks Atsumu in the shoulder. “Ma’am, ma’am! This is a misunderstanding, I’m her boyfriend,” he explains, fending her off. She slowly withdraws her cane and stares at you. “Is that true?” You meet her eyes, then mumble an affirmation, ducking your head shamefully. “Young women nowadays… back in my youth, I never would have dared to cause such a scene,” she tsks, glaring at you disapprovingly before she walks away. Oops.

Atsumu sets you down, eyeing you with furrowed brows. “____. Bro, what the fuck?” You can only smile sheepishly. “Sorry that I freaked out on you. I thought I was about to fall victim to human trafficking. But you know how scared I get when my mom sends me articles about girls getting kidnapped,” you point out, attempting to defend yourself. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you before, nothing will happen when you’re with me. Did you forget who you were? You’re ____, Miya Atsumu’s girl, and no one gets to mess with you.”

You instantly soften at his words but puff your cheeks out afterwards. “Hmph, well something could have happened just now, and it’d be all your fault for leaving me,” you accuse, pretending to sulk. He gestures at the security cameras. “There are cameras everywhere, not to mention this whole place is crawling with people. Besides, even if something were to happen, I would come for you. No one can touch Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend and get away with it.” He taps the handle of the cart. “Anyways, get in. This is why I insisted on taking this thing.”

“ You’re not serious. We’re too old for this, we can’t be doing things like riding shopping carts,” you reasoned. He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit, me and ‘Samu used to do this a lot and still do sometimes. And don’t lie to me, I know you want to, so get in before people come into aisle.” You bite your lip. He was right, so you don’t protest when he picks you up again and places you inside with your legs over the front. “Hold on tight.”

He puts one foot on the metal bar and pushes off the ground with the other, then hops on, propelling you forward, riding off the momentum. You clutch at the sides of the cart, feeling the air whip at your face, wind running through your hair. The two of you laugh in glee like children.

All was well until a woman’s back comes into view. Your eyes widen. “Baby, stop, we’re going to hit her!” He curses and immediately steps down, reducing the speed until the wheels squeak to a stop, just in time. You turn towards him to scold him. “I knew this was a bad idea; that was so dangerous! We could have hit this lady or even gotten hurt ourselves trying to avoid her!”

“Very fortunate that you didn’t, Miss ____,” says a voice. A very familiar voice. You twist your body back around, looking directly into the stern eyes of your manager. You take a moment, becoming conscious of your current state: hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, legs dangling over the edge of a shopping cart to top it all off. Is there a worse way to encounter your boss outside of work? You hastily straighten up. Well, straighten up the best you could in the situation. You smile nervously. “Ms. Wright! Wow, hi! What a coincidence seeing you here!” You notice a young man standing beside her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a son. He’s really handsome, you must be proud,” you added. She purses her lips, clearly displeased. “Actually, Miss ____, he’s not my son, he’s my boyfriend. We have a busy agenda today. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Your face turns white as you process what just happened. The atmosphere is silent. Atsumu starts to push the cart, waiting until you make it to another aisle before bursting into laughter. “Miya! That was so not funny. I can’t believe that happened. First, she sees me in this state. Then, I mistake her boyfriend for her son? I even called him handsome! Oh my god, it’s really over for me.”

“Calm down, she said to see you at work, it’s fine. Plus, it’s not your fault you didn’t know she was a cougar. That sugar baby must be living the lif- ” You gasp and reach up to cover his mouth before he says anything else. “Shush, Atsumu! What if she’s still around? Yeah, I’m definitely going to see her on Monday…so she can fire me!” you groan. “Just get me out of this stupid cart so we can finish buying what we need, I just want to go home so I can curl up and scream into the blankets.” He smirks. “Oh, you want to scream in bed? No problem, leave that to me.” You slap his arm, and he feigns hurt.

While at the cash register, you realize that you forgot a few items. “Shit, ‘Tsumu, I forgot the butter and yoghurt. Can you quickly go grab those?” He nods. “Wait here, I’ll be fast.” A couple minutes pass and you grow worried, watching the employee scan the last of your groceries.

You finally see your boyfriend return with his arms full. Except, what he’s carrying are massive pints of ice cream. You cross your arms. “Atsumu. What did I just say? This doesn’t look like butter and yoghurt.”

He peers at you with puppy eyes. “Babe, you can’t blame me. They were calling out to me and begging to be picked up! Besides, I got both your favourite flavour and mine. We need this for movie night.”

“What about the diet?”

“It’s not a big deal. Also, you seem like you need this after what happened. And I feel like I might have been responsible for some of it. Just a bit.”

You sigh and pay for the ice cream. He’s got a point. Guess you’ll have to make another trip to the store tomorrow.

a/n: actually this is the first time i’m writing a crack fic, but i have crack hcs in my wips if anyone is curious! i’m not even sure if this is funny or nah lmaoo please let me know

[haledamage]

92 for Kai?

This ended up being my first Kai/Adaryc fic! They ended up being a lot of fun to write! Something about their dynamic feels very Regency Romance.

This takes place immediately after the Eyeless fight when you first meet Adaryc in WM2

---

92. “Don’t move.”

"Wait." Kai reached out and grabbed Adaryc's elbow as he and his soldiers turned to leave. "Your men need medical attention. Let us help."

It was the truth. They'd all gotten pretty banged up by those… creatures, constructs, whatever the Eyless were. They may have won, but they'd paid a heavy price for it, and no one had left that fight unharmed. The Commander himself had a large cut over one eye that was still bleeding sluggishly, and he held one arm close to his body in a way that told her it was likely dislocated, if not broken.

He froze at her touch as if she'd warned him of a bear trap underfoot - or like he was expecting her to sink a knife in his back and finish the job the Eyeless had started. He somehow went even more still when she tugged on his good arm and started leading him back toward the cabin they'd first spoken in.

"Watcher, what are you--"

"Kai," she corrected tersely. "I don't like being called 'Watcher' any more than you do, I'd wager."

He nodded, conceding her point. "Kai. What are you doing?"

"Helping you." She closed the door behind them and brought over a chair. "Sit down."

She didn't wait for him to comply, stepping away to hunt for a water basin and dig through her pack for medical supplies.

"One battle together doesn’t mean I take orders from you," Adaryc grumbled, though in spite of his words he sat down on the stool she'd dragged over.

"Why not, my dear?" she muttered. "That’s how it worked with everyone else." She reached for him again, but this time he flinched away. "You’re injured."

"It’s not serious."

"Your arm is dislocated, and I doubt you can even see out of your left eye right now." Kai tried to gentle her voice, to make it a request instead of a demand. "Let me take care of it."

"Ordering me around again." He didn't sound annoyed this time, more amused.

"It seems to be the only way you’ll listen, Commander."

"Adaryc."

"Adaryc," she repeated with a slight smile.

They let silence fall as she worked on removing his armor, keeping her movements careful so as not to jostle his shoulder.

He broke it first, voice almost hesitant. "You're a skilled fighter."

She raised an eyebrow, trying to judge how sincere he was. "You sound surprised."

"I am," he admitted easily. "I expected you to be… softer. Your memories…"

Ah. That explained it. She must look very privileged to someone like him; in many ways, she supposed she was. "I was raised nobility. It… didn't suit me. I ran away."

"To Dyrwood?" Adaryc seemed genuinely curious rather than judgemental like she expected.

"Eventually." Kai bit her lip, considering how much to say, and eventually settled on, "It's a long story."

A small smile tilted the corners of his lips, the first she'd seen from him. He looked like he was trying to remember how smiles worked. "I'd like to hear it sometime."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she said dryly. She set down the last piece of armor and reached for the wash basin, wetting a cloth and bringing it toward his face. "Don't move."

This time, he obeyed without argument. He didn't flinch or make a sound as she cleaned the cut on his forehead and washed the blood from his face.

After a couple minutes, Adaryc once again broke the silence. "How long have you been…"

"Been what?"

"Inflicted." He said it like a curse, which she supposed to him it was.

"Six months, give or take. My grasp on the passage of time is… tentative, some days." She left it at that, confident that he'd understand.

He looked surprised. "You've adapted very quickly."

"Not really. I'm very good at pretending." That was a remarkable amount of honesty for someone Kai had just met, but he had already had a front row seat to some of her memories so she let it go just this once. "But I'm no stranger to power and this one, at least, is mine alone. It requires nothing except that I am me and I exist. Few other powers can boast the same."

"You are a strange woman."

That startled a laugh out of her. "You are not the first man to tell me that. Though you are the first to make it sound like a compliment."

"I'm as surprised as you are that I meant it as one." There was something akin to fondness in his voice, enough to bring color to her cheeks.

She turned away to mask her strange reaction, cleaning blood off the cloth as an excuse to hide her face. "So how long have you been 'inflicted'?"

Adaryc was quiet so long that she didn't think he was going to answer, but eventually he just said, "Years."

"That's a long time to be at war with yourself," Kai said quietly.

"I have no other choice." His conviction was clear in his face, but it just made her sad.

"There's always another choice, darling. Gifts and curses alike are nothing more and nothing less than what you make them." She didn't think he was really listening, but she knew enough of self-loathing to know how to be heard over it. She tried a different tactic. "Do you think me less because I'm a Watcher?"

"Yes," he said automatically. Then, "...No."

"I think you have enough war in your life. You don't need to battle yourself as well." She carefully pressed a poultice to the cut over his eye, giving him time to consider her words.

"I will… think on what you've said." He sounded like he meant it, and that was good enough for her.

"That's all I ask. Thank you. Now I'm afraid I'm going to have to hurt you." Without any more warning, she pushed hard at his elbow. With a sickening pop his arm slipped back into the socket.

He hissed, but made no other noise at the pain. His voice was only a little rough when he said, "That never gets more pleasant."

"I'm sorry," Kai said, and she meant it. "If I could have done it gently, I would have. I'm afraid without a healer available, I'm the best you've got." They did, technically, have a healer, but she tried not to subject strangers to Durance's ministrations unless absolutely necessary. Especially not such a devout Eothasian as Adaryc.

She took off one of her scarves and tied it behind his neck, making it into a makeshift sling. "That should keep until you can get somewhere safe enough to bandage it properly. Do try to go easy on it."

"I will. Thank you, Kai." There was that barely-there smile again.

She smiled back, fragile and unfamiliar in its sincerity. "You are quite welcome, Adaryc."

She stepped back to put away the supplies, but she only made it a step before he grabbed her arm.

"Wait."

She turned to face him again, unconsciously following his orders like he kept doing to hers. "What is it?"

He stood up from his chair and moved closer. He tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Even though things had calmed down, there was still something feverish in his eyes; it made it difficult to look away from him. "May I?"

"May you--" her question ended in a sharp hiss as he brushed a wet cloth over a cut on her cheek that she hadn't known was there. "You could have just asked, darling. Words are not your enemy."

He chuckled, a warm and raspy sound. "I will try to remember that for next time."

Kai rather liked the idea that there would be a 'next time,' but she didn't say it and let him clean and bandage her wounds without fuss.

His touch was both gentler and more hesitant than she expected from a man who led a group like The Iron Flail. His fingers were rough and calloused, but she didn't mind. In fact, she found herself having to resist the urge to lean into it. It had been a long time since anyone had been so careful with her.

They both lingered after he was done, standing close but no longer touching. Kai was surprised by how much she wished they were.

"I hope…" he started, but he trailed off and made no attempt to finish the sentence.

"You hope?" she repeated, trying to jostle the rest of the thought loose.

Adaryc cleared his throat and ducked his head, an unexpectedly shy gesture. "That we... will see each other again. Perhaps sometime less dire."

"I'd like that." The last thing she'd expected when she snuck into an 'enemy' fort today was to leave with a friend, but here they were. "You're always welcome at Caed Nua."

"It would be my honor." In a quick, fluid motion, less like a formal bow and more like disarming an opponent, he lifted her hand and pressed a firm kiss to her knuckles. "Farewell, Watcher."

She grinned and bowed her head, somehow managing to make the casual gesture look formal. "Farewell, Watcher."

Adaryc gave her a wry, boyish smile, and then he was gone.

"Gods above, Kiki," she whispered to herself once she was alone, "what have you gotten yourself into now?"

Unsurprisingly, she didn't get an answer. Kai followed Adaryc out into the fort, but she knew by now he'd already be gone.