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godslino · 8 months ago

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you��ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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professorwerewolfmcwerewolf · 27 days ago

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Okay, I have an idea. Gotta admit, first, I haven't watched most of Chicago PD (or Med but that's not relevant here. I've seen all of Fire). I was already in love with the Halsteads and now I've fallen in love with Mouse as a character. I also fully blame @kitweewoos and @gregorygerwitz for that. And I'm not sure if y'all's hc of Mouse's parents being rich and having disowned him is just a hc or somewhat implied in canon, but it's fully canon in my brain.

Alright. My idea. When Mouse starts to get restless being part of the unit, his initial thought is still reenlisting because that's familiar. And Voight tightening the fucking leash just totally reconfirms the need to get out. But then for some reason or another. (maybe Moustead happens and he can't bring himself to leave Jay even if he has to leave the unit. Maybe he gets to talking to Severide or Hermann or any of our 51 firefighters at Molly's.)

He starts looking into the CFD. He would still need his record cleared. But even if Platt had had hesitation, uh clearing his record so he can join the fire academy? *(calls Mouch)* Babe, I got you a veteran to join the cfd! He already comes with a nickname!

And so Mouse signs up for the next like available opening in the academy. And with a sus amount of luck *(side eyes Sargeant Platt)*, his number's called the same year. He's hopeful. The lack of gunfire is a relief as much as a bummer, but it's not a deterrent. And he isn't 100% sure how he'll do if he gets too close to explosion or gets a serious injury, but he'd have that same uncertainty overseas, just extra likely. And, of course, Jay is thrilled. Voight isn't, but he also isn't acting as much like a toddler because he has to respect the CFD. But Jay's thrilled that Mouse isn't trying to put himself through That™️ again. He feels guilty for a bit when he thinks maybe Mouse dropped the reenlisting idea just to placate him, but Mouse tells him it was just his first idea.

So Mouse goes through the fire academy, fucking excels. The soldier-like bits are like coming home. This he knows. This he can do. Sure, he might need to fill his free time with stuff to use his tech skills so boredom never leads him to hack the wrong shit while tipsy, but he would've done that anyway. He's not even opposed to helping out the unit, but only when they actually just can't figure it out themselves.

Fresh out of the academy, he obviously becomes a candidate at Firehouse 51. Do they need one right now? Don't care. They're getting Mouse. They need a new stray, and he needs a bigger family than just Jay and Will via Jay. Okay, I just checked the timeline, and Mouse's last CPD episode was conveniently at the same time as Jimmy Borelli's uhhh incident 🔥🫠 in October 2016. So, 51 does, in fact, need a candidate. 🫢😅

Humor in the tags. But seriously. Mouse can't decide if he absolutely hates them trying to include him in stuff (because past experiences say this is a lie and they wanna lure him into a false sense of security before being shit, despite the fact they've never individually given him bad vibes before) or desperately wants to do good to feel like he deserves them.

This part specifically applies to the Gerwitz-family-being-rich hc: It doesn't take the house long to piece together Gerwitz, and that Mouse isn't involved in his parents' lives. But you know Otis. Otis is Otis. Mouse is a candidate. So naturally, he's gonna joke about it. Mouse is fine at first, just acts like he didn't hear him or just glares or walks away, and everyone else has the decency not to laugh if it's the latter two reactions. Otis continues. Until one day, he jokingly implies nepotism. Mouse stops him in the locker room. "Listen, funny guy. I get this. The hazing is part of the job. It's fine. And you have plenty of material to work with. You wanna joke about my service, my addiction, working for the intelligence unit, my friendship with Jay? I don't care. But you make another crack about nepotism like my parents gave a single fuck about me after I wasn't their perfect little socialite? Like I wasn't fully disowned and cut off? That's a fight you won't win, Zvonecek." And his pronunciation of Otis' last name being perfect is oddly the sticking point for him. Otis is a bit butt hurt for a few days, but accepts the honesty and threat as good enough reason to back off on that topic.

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median-culture-is · 16 days ago

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I think I might be median tbh,recently a plural friend said I had traits and I looked it up and it surprised me because it really fit tbh,anyways my question is could you show an example of how a median system would work,I’m sorry if this is too much to ask im just genuinely surprised tbh

uhhh

median systems are as diverse as any system so givinf examples can be difficult

ill explain our experience and then some follow ups and anyone is free to add on

We thought we were just kinning for the longest time as in the beginning we always felt like the same person but there were hints memories, phantom pains, genderfluid, name collecting, feeling "unreal" and "emotionally distant" when we didn't feel like any specific kin (dissociating)

Before we learned of median systems we actually referred to each other as flavors

All flavors of the same guy like soup it's still soup but different the best way to describe the experience at the time is a Parasian Orbital system as we thought we were all flavors of Cain our center

It always fronted for the most part with others present and we didn't feel that different but different enough thankfully we had our spouse& to help us with all of this so we got a lot of practice early on figuring out how much we wanted to present ourselves if we were comfortable calling attention to the fact that we weren't fully separate or if we wanted to be treated as fully separate even if we weren't

We actually adopted this blog from the original owner a week after figuring out we were plural we weren't even confident in it yet but the owner couldn't take care of the blog anymore and I didn't want the biggest amount of median experiences deleted when we were just starting to figure things out it was months before we felt comfortable thinking of ourselves as plural

Over time we have become more separate vaguely around mesoian-diversian and we weren't orbital cain was just our host at the time

We don't really do hosts either akjdjs

We are all still connected and those with closer connections are able to feel and pull up others

Sometimes based on source sometimes based on similar personalities sometimes its just like two idiots the brain decided were gonna be close

We personally go by different names in public if we talk to someone more than a handful of times they are told we're plural just cause we can't stand the idea of being friends with someone who might drop us if they found out

We have been considering charting the web to make things like fronting and checking in on people easier

We don't have a lot of access to the back when we front so I don't know how the like inner headspace feels

I feel like I've just rambles but thats all I got akdjns

#not median culture

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whomuses · 2 months ago

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// ... okay so this got away from me a bit. Under the cut is 6k (!!!) of fic about how the egg laying goes lmao. It's not massively graphic but it does go into some details. Any lack of realism with real life pregnancy is because these are dragonborn eggs and I make the rules. ANYWAY yes. Uhhh enjoy?

“How are you feeling?” Gale’s voice was quiet; Caedes was visibly drooping, exhaustion clear. Gale reached out, gently stroking over his cheek, the rough and sometimes damaged scales there. The party had been good, really, up until Withers had started talking about them getting called on again – and then Caedes had been lost to the depths of a panic attack at the idea of being taken back into war. They had made some excuses and headed home; there was no doubt that being out, seeing their old friends, had been a balm for the dragonborn. He was still damaged – they all were, of course. Gale wasn’t immune to that. For a short while, though – he’d almost been like he’d been before. Smiling, laughing, talking – not sitting, staring into the distance. Not lost in nightmares or shaking or waking up screaming… his throat bobbed slightly. Other hand moved, resting gently on the immense curve of his heavy belly. There wasn’t long left – and then everything would be changing again…

“I’m tired.” Caedes said, with a rough laugh. The last panic attack had been bad; sneak off to the corner, talking him down, dragging him back to reality. “But… I’m glad we went.” he admitted. “Good. I’m glad we went, too.” Gale had taken a few gobletfuls of wine – which, obviously, the pregnant Caedes couldn’t do – but he was still thinking fairly clearly. “I have tomorrow off work.” the nice thing about weekends when you were a teacher. “And I know I have marking, and I need to do a lesson plan… but I don’t care.” he chuckled, drawing on Caedes’ hands towards the bed. Carefully, he helped remove the soft, thick clothes he was wearing.

Since they’d been living in the tower, he’d noticed just how much he liked soft fabrics. There was clearly a draw towards them; so there were blankets everywhere. Over the couches and chairs in the library and drawing rooms, the beds, most of his clothes – nice ones that Gale had bought now they didn’t need to worry about armour – were lined with soft fleece on the inside. It really wouldn’t be long now – he could see how overburdened the other was. It was clearly exhausting to him – the way he was struggling to stand for long periods of time, almost always with a hand scooped under it. To Gale, Caedes was incredibly beautiful – and this was exciting, even if it was utterly terrifying.

There was a low chuckle as he let Gale lead him to the bed, taking a moment to get his own clothes off; drawing them in after him, under the warm, soft blankets, and Caedes sighed. He nuzzled his face into the wizard’s neck, enjoying the feeling of hands on his scales, the rubbing on his stretched and tender sides… it didn’t take long for him to drop into sleep. Gale took a little longer. He could feel that ache in his chest. No longer the orb; Mystra had followed through on freeing him from that. It was a sensation he’d had more and more recently, especially when he thought too hard about the upcoming eggs. All of his energy was going into making sure that Caedes was okay.

It wasn’t like he didn’t wake from nightmares, too. He just had less of a tendency to scream. He would weather his, as he had through two years of isolation in this very tower. Half of him was considering moving out again; but it was his place… he didn’t want to let the time he’d spent trapped here be the thing that marked it forever. They were making new memories, better memories. For now, Caedes was sleeping; that was good. They’d have a day to recover, eat, maybe a little more work on the nursery… he’d been insisting that Gale was worrying too much. They’d have the time whilst the egg was nesting, and there was still a chance they wouldn’t hatch.

This night, however, Caedes managed to sleep through. Gale woke before him; breathing still soft and steady. He laid a kiss on his snout before getting up and heading into the kitchen to make them a nice breakfast. Both of them had put on a nice layer of softness, too; bodies healing and recovering from the hard time on the road. It was good to see the dragonborn more relaxed in his skin. When he came back in, holding the steaming tray, the other rolled over, stretching like a cat, ever so slight flicker over his features and tail curling – Gale sympathised, knowing that it must not be comfortable to be as heavily burdened as he was feeling.

“Looks like you got some good rest?” he said, gently, with a smile. “Makes a nice change.” Caedes replied, tone soft and sleepy, before he managed to slowly lever his body into a sitting position. Reaching out to accept the hot cup of tea from his partner, enjoying the warmth in his fingertips, Gale casually cast a mage hand to support the tray of food whilst he climbed back into bed. It was funny; he’d worried at first about things like scrambled eggs, thinking they might upset the other, considering the current cargo. No such need, though – in fact, the protein was good. Caedes would sometimes devour them raw, including the shell – even as Gale wrinkled his nose in concern and disgust – because their body was craving the extra calcium for the shells he was building.

It was nice, though; sitting in bed, eating a breakfast, snuggling up to each other. Caedes had always been tenderly affectionate; seeking out touches, burrowing his face against Gale’s neck. The need for softness and comfort had gone up tenfold since he’d become pregnant. Whilst it felt like every surface in the tower had gained a thick blanket, the bed was the worst of it – he kept dragging more and more in, making their sleeping space more like a… nest. Oh, that’s what their doula had meant by ‘nesting’, that finally made sense. Making no comment on the matter, though, Gale just enjoyed the closeness, letting the mage hand carry the plates back to the kitchen to be dealt with later. It would be good to just spend a day relaxing together; hopefully not seeing that distance in Caedes’ eyes which seemed to be oh so present every time he got home from work. For a while, they just enjoyed the closeness, cuddled up together until the body’s needs took over and Caedes extricated him. The constant needs of his bladder since the weight of the eggs had been pressing on it was a constant point of contention; sliding on his fleece-lined long shirt, the dragonborn padded away, and Gale got into his day’s clothes.

It was a pleasant day, and over too fast. They put a little more work into the nursery – or, rather, Gale worked on it whilst Caedes sat in the corner and supervised, too gravid to be much assistance. They were talking about colours; this was rapidly becoming the most homely room in the tower, even if it would be months yet until the egg might actually hatch. It seemed like Caedes was more tolerating, with a wry smile – not convinced that the nursery would ever be needed. But Gale was so excited; he’d been building up charms and protections to make sure that the baby wouldn’t accidentally, say, summon a fireball. Wild magic was very unpredictable in babies, and being the combination of a very powerful wizard and a natural sorcerer meant it was highly likely that they would have their own. Once or twice he found himself rambling, Caedes’ face distant, hand tight on the arm of the chair, claws leaving little furrows. A soft touch or a close murmur were usually enough to pull them out of these pensive moments, at least.

Dinner was a quiet but nice affair. The evening swept by; then night was falling, the dragonborn was clearly exhausted, starting to doze off in their chair, so Gale made the executive decision that, no matter how calm and pleasant, the day had to end. It was nice seeing Caedes drop off to sleep so quickly, snuggled up against him, hoping that the night would be another peaceful one – although two next to each other was such a rarity these days…

It was Gale who woke up with a gasp, this time, mind wrenched from a world where the orb was back in his chest, a knife in his hand, being forced to detonate it… the first pink lights of dawn were sneaking in through the window, and the dragonborn was still curled up tight to his side. Their eyes were tight, even asleep; grateful that he hadn’t disturbed them with his own broken sleep, Gale gently stroked a thumb over their cheek, resting a brief kiss on their snout. Still had a couple of hours before he was needed for work; he settled back into the bed, allowing himself to doze, aware of the dragonborn’s gentle breathing, even if their face was slightly scrunched up.

When he stirred, having to accept defeat, the other was still asleep. Disabling the clock next to the bed before it could get too loud, Gale slipped around the room, gathering up his various items, murmuring for a mage hand to assist with tapping together the pile of marking he’d done the night before, popping it into a case to make everything easier. Once he was dressed – in his ever so slightly singed robes, still good for this – he paused to give Caedes a kiss, noticing just how exhausted the other still seemed to be, sleepy eyes cracking open with a rumble. That was unusual – he usually was awake, or at least with it enough to wish Gale a good day. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home today?” the wizard asked, gently, as he usually did. More and more so as they got closer to the day; he was worried. “I’ll be fine.” Caedes murmured back, dozily, as he usually did, “Go to work.” he kissed Gale back. “I have my sending stone.” he added; it was on a shelf next to the bed. Gale’s own was tucked inside his work robe, close to his chest where he would feel it.

“Okay, my love.” Gale kissed him one last time, “I’ll be back at my usual time. Get some rest; remember to eat,” he fussed. It wasn’t without reason, of course – Caedes was a nightmare for sitting staring into space. Tara did what she could, of course, but the Tressym had her own life to live – although Gale had noticed her hanging around the tower a lot more than she used to. For all her sighing and apparent dismissal of his partner, he had a feeling she liked Caedes well enough. After all, they talked to her with respect, as a person… with a last glance, he headed out of the tower and to the waypoint which would allow him to get closest to Blackstaff. That lingering sense of concern was hard to shake, but he was sure by now it was just normal for a soon to be father. They were seeing the doula tomorrow – the pregnancy had already gone on longer than expected, but everything was unprecedented here.

“And that is why wild magic can sometimes surge. But there are many things a wizard can do to try to limit this!” “Mr Dekarios?” the voice broke through his empassioned speech, where he had been writing up on the board with broad strokes – he could easily have done it with a mage hand, but this was something he had been so drawn into, Gale wanted to feel the chalk himself. As his digits stilled, he could hear it now – a faint scratching. With a sigh, he started to turn, recognising the voice. A glance revealed, though, that no eyes were on the board whatsoever; everybody was looking out of the window, staring. “Mr Dekarios?” the student repeated, nearest the window. “What is it, Jeffreys?” he asked, not rudely. It wasn’t unheard of for him to interrupt the lesson, but not usually with that wavering tone. “There’s a cat on the windowsill.” “What?” he repeated, baffled now, starting to take a step forward. They were three stories up – had someone summoned a poor familiar outside as a joke? As the windowframe moved out of his vision, a fluffy shape was indeed revealed, pawing at the glass – but one he recognised. “Tara?! Jeffreys, open the window -” he was already doing so, allowing the tressym to leap gracefully into the room, wings flaring before she landed on a desk.

“Mr Dekarios, thank goodness!” she was breathless, all wide eyes in a way he had never seen before, “You have no idea how many windows I’ve had to look into – you must get back home, at once!” “At on- Tara, what is going on?” he demanded, feeling her panic start to rub off on him. “Why?” he hadn’t felt the sending stone vibrate – was Caedes hurt? But she was shaking her head, now, turning away, even with how breathless she was. “At once!” she demanded, before taking off in a flurry of feathers, the children gasping at her rapid exit. Gale watched her go for a moment before pulling out the etched stone – nothing in it, no contact.

“Right. At once.” he whispered.

The sound of the front door swinging open with force echoed through the tower. Tara looked up from where she’d been gently licking the scaled head, her wing drifting back and forth to create a breeze. Leaping from the bed, she scampered to the entryway, where the frazzled looking wizard was depositing his case, rushing towards her. “Tara, what’s going on?” he demanded, at the same time as she exclaimed, “What took you so long?!” “I had to get cover for my class -” “Cover – you – oh, you are ridiculous,” she snapped, but turned away, leading the charge, “We’ll talk about this later -” he followed her, windswept and akimbo, into the bedroom. For a second, he paused, exhaling sharply.

The already crowded bed was a mess. Every blanket in the building must be heaped onto it; in the middle of it all was Caedes. Most of the dragonborn wasn’t visible – his head emerged at the top, burrowed into several pillows and, bafflingly, one of Gale’s shirt where his nose was buried. A hand emerged from the edge, clutching ahold of another piece of soft fabric. Curled in, eyes shut tight, faint whimpers escaping from his throat. Gale’s heart constricted at the sight, wasting no time in rushing to his side. “Caedes?” he whispered, gently. “I followed him in here when he saw fit to take my blanket out of my bed.” Tara said, softly, “But I couldn’t get any sense out of him.” “Hey, my love. Hey.” Gale reached out, gently resting a hand on the dragonborn’s cheek. To his shock, the scales were warm – more than warm. Hot. Caedes tended to run cool – part and parcel of being an ice breather – so it was alarming to feel them so inflamed. The eyes opened a crack, the red glazed and distracted.

“It’s okay. Hey. Look at me?” he scooped a hand underneath, and encouraged them to sit up a little; head lifting slowly, a whimper that turned into a low whine of discomfort. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” he whispered, “Caedes, you’re burning up…” it wasn’t surprising, the volume of fabric that was all over him. Gale allowed him to lay back again, tilted over a little more to reveal some of his chest, starting to pull away the covers. The whimpering was starting up again, Caedes curled up – whatever it was, they were clearly in pain. It was only as he removed more and more of the shell that Gale’s hands brushed against something wet. Alarm shot through him – tugging what he recognised as the sofa blanket off of Caedes’ legs, he could feel and see it now, the fabric damp with – something. The clothes Caedes was wearing, fleece-lined and pale – they were soaked too. For a second, he thought it was blood – but the tint was pink, not red. That was – strange. There was a soft pressure on the bed as Tara jumped up. “Mr Dekarios.” she said, voice quiet but serious. Then what he was looking at sunk in.

“Oh, by the gods.” he whispered, voice trembling. “You were meant to contact me, Caedes – how could this be happening so quickly? Oh, Gods. Okay. Okay.” he swallowed hard, moving back up to Caedes’ face, the dragonborn’s glazed eyes. “Sweetheart, I think you’re in labour.” he whispered, cupping his cheek again. No wonder he was in pain, but this seemed to have struck out of nowhere. “Why didn’t you contact me, Caedes? Not the time. Right.” he scooped a hand around Caedes’ face, laid a kiss on his overheated snout, “You need to come back to me.” the dissociation wasn’t uncommon, but now, of all times? “Come on. Come on, my love, come back to me…” he ran his nails over the edge of their jaw, eyes drawn, seeing just a little more wakefulness there. “Baby needs you to be with it, for this.” there was a faint shudder, a groan and a whimper, Caedes tensing against him for just a moment. When their eyes opened again, they were a little more awake.

“Gale?” he mumbled, sending a crashing wave of warm relief through his body. Thank the gods. “It hurts…” “I know, my love, I know.” Gale whispered, “We have to remember what the doula said, right? She – the doula.” he realised. “Tara, can you -” “Right away,” she replied, no hint of her usual stubborn personality as the tressym leapt away and rushed to collect the sending stone the doula had given them. With Caedes running overdue, they’d been given it to keep on hand; just in case this happened. “Deep breaths. Okay. I’m going to help take your clothes off.” Gale whispered, and Caedes nodded, allowing the other to peel them away. They were stuck to their body, damp, but with a little work he eased them off. Caedes was cooling a little, at least, although their breathing and heart were still feverishly working, scales hot. There was blood, he saw now; not a lot, but leaking from between the dragonborn’s legs. His heart raced, but Gale remembered that this was supposed to be normal.

“I don’t understand how it happened this fast.” he murmured. “You should have been feeling it long before active labour…” his analytical mind was happy to take over for a moment, because that meant his emotional brain, which was currently screaming in six layers of panic, got to take a backseat. Tara appeared, sending stone in her mouth, and Gale gratefully accepted it, mumbling his apprecation as he sent off the message letting her know that Caedes was in labour. She confirmed she’d be there soon, and he looked back at his partner, who was, for some damned reason, trying to pull a blanket over his chest. “Caedes.” he said, a little more hard. The other focused on him. “Okay, stay with me, love. Deep breaths, remember?” he wrapped one of his hands around the thick scaled ones, loosening them off of the fabric. “I’ve got you. You can do this.”

Dragonborns were, of course, different to humans or even elves or other such species. Although there were some similarities, most of what they knew had come from Caedes’ instinct and the doula’s knowledge, as well as some rather too lacking books. The wizard was trying desperately to remember anything he could… “Towels.” he muttered, firing off a mage hand, which returned a moment later with the towels he’d earmarked for the occasion. Of course, it was going to be too late for several of these blankets, but he carefully placed what he could under Caedes, whilst the other twitched, groaning deeply, clearly tensing again. “When did the pain start?” he asked, a little more firmly now.

“Party.” Caedes rasped, which took a few moments to sink into Gale’s brain before-- “What?” he demanded, “You – this – the party? Caedes!” “Didn’t realise what it was. Brain was… so messy.” he admitted, shakily. “Was getting worse yesterday but… I didn’t want to ruin the day.”

“You let me go to work when you were in labour?” Gale said, louder now, “By the Gods, Caedes, I thought you were past keeping stuff like this from me!” he sighed. “Not the time, okay, not the time, doesn’t matter now. You must stop keeping this all to yourself.” he wrapped an arm around the heavy head, placing a kiss on his snout. “Okay. Nice steady breaths.” he didn’t know how to tell how far along in this process Caedes was, remembering mostly about keeping him calm, helping as best he could… on a whim, he sent the mage hand to grab a couple of healing potions. He’d seen the other break bones with a grip – best to be prepared.

They pressed their head against Gale’s chest, whimpering just slightly, the noises softer than he’d expected. Of course, they wouldn’t be screaming and crying… not yet, at least. They might be due for some crying out later… once the eggs really got moving. He remembered being rather embarassingly white-faced when the doula had told him that the eggs would be born near the size of human infants. That was already a terribly difficult affair, and humans were rather squishy and pliable, really, compared to an egg. Caedes was big, and strong, and had been through so damn much, but this..?

“I’ve got you, my love, deep breaths, now, deep breaths,” he encouraged, “You’re going to do just fine, I know you are.” rubbing a hand over the back of his head, through the gaps at the base of his horns, trying to soothe him, Gale heard the bang on the door – a flick of his wrist and the mage hand let her in. A moment later she appeared – a golden dragonborn, eyes wise and bright, attitude always immensely calm and knowledgable. She had a longer name but had told them to call her Osu; and she had been as fascinated as they had, having never seen such a coupling produce young before, either. Unflappable, even with knowing who they were, she had been an excellent source of support for this. Right now, though, whilst she was still calm, her eyes narrowed.

“You should have called me sooner.” she said, with just a hint of scolding in her tone, as she took in the state of them. “He didn’t tell me he was in pain until it was too late.” Gale replied, dryly, and she just nodded, taking it in stride, now. “Alright, Caedes.” she had pulled out a shallow bowl, pouring a potion into it then dunking her hands, “I need to check you; try not to flinch.” her voice was soft, and Caedes nodded just slightly as she gently adjusted legs and tail, hands getting to work. “Oh, yes, we are quite far along, I think. You should have those out of you in the next hour, if you’re willing to put the effort in.” she nodded, drawing bloodied hands out and dunking them again, scales coming out shining.

“Here.” she opened her bag and handed Gale a small root; “Get them to chew it, nice and slow, don’t swallow it.” “What is it?” “Carrionweed.” he wasn’t surprised by the name; it looked like an entrail. “It’s a natural painkiller for us. Doesn’t blunt the mind or impact the labour.”

After a little coaxing, Caedes took the root and began to chew it, slowly. A moment later, he relaxed just a touch, eyes more awake than they had been for some time. Gale kissed the tip of his snout. “I know you’re suffering, lovely,” she said, “But you should try to get up. I know, I know, it’s tender,” she moved to his other side; with Gale’s help they lever the white dragonborn into a sitting position as he groaned in discomfort.

“Alright, there we go; a little walking around will help you wonders, I promise.” she told him, “And I think you want this over quick, now, don’t you?” she smiled, a hand on Caedes’ back as they helped him slowly, stiffly stand. One hand supported his belly, panting just slightly from the effort, shaking starting to pad across the room. Gale took one shoulder; Osu hovered at the other, just in case she was needed. They managed to do two loops before they groaned, visibly tensing and stilling. “There we go,” Osu murmured, “Deep breath, now just bear down a little -” “Ohhfuckitmoved,” Caedes gasped, leaning their shoulder harder against Gale. His heart had settled a little with the comforting presence of the doula, but now it spiked up again. Gods, it was real. It was all real. This was happening. Goodness, he felt faint; he wanted to sit down with a nice cup of tea.

“Plenty more to go.” the doula said, gently, patting Caedes’ shoulder. “You want to sit down again?” He nodded, breathless, and they led him back to the bed, where he sat down on the towels, leaning back against Gale’s chest as the wizard sat just slightly behind him. The time began to shift strangely. Caedes groaned.

The pain was more intense than anything he’d felt before – and he’d died, more than once. He’d been burnt, exploded, run through, yet this? The inexorability of it was almost overwhelming. Whole body felt like it was cramping, every inch of him focused on the fact he was about to have to force a very big egg through a very small hole. Even though they knew, realistically, that their body was made for this… it was still a very scary thought. Let alone with the strange, uncomfortable shifting feeling of the egg starting to slide down.

“I think maybe we shouldn’t have a baby,” he said, breathily, with a half smile, “This might be a bad idea.” Gale laughed, despite himself – Caedes could feel the vibrations against his back. “It’s a little too late for that!” there was a tone of panic in his voice, though, unable to help it, because by the Gods this was real this was happening and they were going to become parents only they might not because the eggs hadn’t even hatched yet or been laid yet and - “Gale.” Caedes said, his own voice shaky, “Still there?” “Right here. Not going anywhere.” Okay, couldn’t panic. Caedes was still very much in danger of his mind checking out, which would be the worst possible time for this to happen.

“I’m going to take a look, Caedes, okay?” Osu said, gently, and moved between his legs, letting out a low breath. “Is that good?” Gale asked, tone worried again. “They’re very much on the way.” the doula said, as a wave of pain crashed through Caedes. He threw his head back, feeling Gale shift to avoid getting hit by a horn, but that mattered little over the crunching pain and the overwhelming urge to - “That’s good, push, you can do it -” she said, and Caedes stopped fighting the need and let his body bear down, the pain hammering at the edges of his consciousness as they felt it shift down, down, and there was a positive noise from the golden dragonborn. “Well done! Not long, now.” he could feel it, so strangely, the way their body was… re-molding around the heft of the egg. For a few minutes, there was peace, except for the low throb and discomfort… before the next contraction started. A hand wrapped around Gale’s, clenching as he snarled softly, face wrinkling up, eyes shut as he pushed again.

The egg was definitely moving down, they could feel the stretching. Ow, ow, ow, the root they’d been chewing was doing nothing now, it seemed, clenched between their teeth. Gale shifted slightly behind them as this wave eased off, but they were coming more and more regularly now. “I want to move you a little,” Osu said, “We’re going to try kneeling, okay?” for some ridiculous reason, Caedes suddenly thought about the fact they were laying on their bed. Where they slept. With Gale. Ridiculous. Shoving it away, he allowed the doula and Gale to help him up and onto his knees over the thick, soft towels. They were already heavily stained, after all. “There we go.” The gravity was, admittedly, slightly better – it didn’t feel they were having to push quite so hard, one arm around Gale’s shoulders, helping him stay up. The other clutched the wizard’s free hand, turning to press his muzzle into their shoulder.

“You’re doing great, my love,” Gale whispered, “Good gods. You’re doing fantastic.” he let out a very high laugh, but Caedes ignored it, more focused on the next wave of pain, the tensing and clenching and pushing, hand gripping until the faint feeling and sound of cracks drifting through his brain started to register. Gale’s own face was pale, but he said nothing as the other fractured his bones – the healing potions were ready, after all. His eyes were fixed lower – at the first sight of the egg starting to properly crest. Way too big, oh no, how was Caedes going to ever – the pearly bottom had a hint of blue and pink, although it was smeared with blood – his head was starting to spin -

“You doing okay, dad?” Osu asked, with a glance. “Don’t you dare pass out!” Caedes barked out, realising what was happening. The whole time Gale had insisted that he was strong of constitution, that he would not pass out like so many did, at the sight, yet now his head was very much woozy. The pain in his hand and the growl yanked him a little more into reality, at the very least, swallowing hard. “I’m here, I’m here.” he insisted, very quietly, choosing to look at the dragonborn’s face instead of his nethers. “Not going anywhere, my love, not going anywhere.”

The contraction eased for just a breath; Caedes gasped in urgently, feeling himself shuddering. The pain was unbearable. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t do it, this was a mistake, he was going to die right here even as the pain was starting again and he clenched and pushed and snarled; no trace of a scream or a cry other than the panting and the curling of his jaw. “You’re doing fantastic, not long to go – this is the worst part,” Osu insisted, “Come on, now, one big push – I know you can do it -” his legs were trembling, but the effort was too much. The egg slid back just a hair, as he relaxed despite himself, letting out a shuddering sob. “You’re okay, Caedes. You’re okay, you’re okay. Nearly there, baby, nearly there.” Gale insisted, kissing the tip of his snout, bolstering the weight that was leaning more and more heavily against him.

He caught his breath just in time for the next clench. Gale pressed his face against the hot scales, Osu was murmuring encouragements. He’d fought down an elder brain, had cast the killing blow against monsters and creatures untold, he endured Volo taking an eye… they could do this. With a deep snarl, Caedes bore down, feeling the egg shift, and stretch, and ow, then there was a release, a rush, and the egg moved – properly – slipping from his body with a sense of immense relief, and a strange sense of loss as he slumped. Gale let out a shaky laugh, keeping him supported with one arm. “You did it.” he whispered, gently. Osu was moving the egg now; it was larger than he’d even realised, smeared with blood and shimmering gently in the light from the window. She carefully lifted it, handing it to them.

Gale couldn’t really believe it as their trembling arms took the egg – it was heavier than expected, surprisingly soft and leathery. They’d said it would harden over the next few hours, settle into it’s ‘proper’ shape… Caedes’ large hand supported the bottom, staring at it before - “Take it away.” he said, voice gruff. Gale looked up, alarmed; but the exhausted face was twisted not with rage, but with worry. Fear. That same fear they’d first talked about. “Please.” he added, softer. “I just – I can’t -”

“It’s okay.” Gale whispered. “It’s okay.” he nodded at Osu, summoning the mage hand that had flickered away earlier. It drew in the enchanted cradle, and she carefully laid the egg down into it, the magic kicking in and starting it’s soft warming.

“Mmf.” Caedes commented; his brief reprieve hadn’t lasted long. He glanced down; his over-burdened body had softened just a little, but whilst he knew that it would take some time to shrink down once the egg was out – that was definitely another cramp. A wave of terror rolled through him. “Oh, no. No, no. No, I can’t – I can’t do it again -” he gasped, but Osu, hands having been freshly dipped in potion, was looking up sympathetically. “Sorry, sweetness. But it should be easier now.” she said, gently. “I know you’re tired, I know. You can do it. You managed all the rest.” “What’s happening?” Gale asked, his head swimming. A million thoughts colliding, eyes fixed on the egg now resting. “Wait -” “Looks like we were right. You have another one.” “Two. Oh, we have two.” he said, “We have two?” he knew it had been said, a few times, as an explanation for how heavy Caedes was – even for a big dragonborn, they had been incredibly burdened.

“It’s a very rare occurance even in normal dragonborn pregnancies,” Osu said, as Caedes whimpered, his body clenching, already back into contractions. But she was right – it was easier, now. The egg shifting down through the pathway, moving as it followed the path of the other. “But you two are everything except normal. This one should be a little smaller, too.” blood was dripping from Caedes’ body, legs shaking badly – Gale started to ease him back, allowing Osu to adjust their legs, seeing as the white dragonborn wasn’t giving them much. Settling back, he groaned as he pushed, again.

It all hurt, but it was weirdly familiar now. Each clench of trembling and worn out muscles was hard, but now it was more from exhaustion than anything else. They could feel the shifting and the movement of the egg as it sunk into their tunnel. Osu coached them through each hard push, then, with a final heave and groan, the second one popped loose. It was indeed smaller, although not massively so. Osu wiped it clean as Caedes trembled; he made no move to take it, and Gale nodded gently, signifying her to rest it with the other, bundled in a blanket in the warming crib. Reaching down, he stroked over the exhausted face as they panted, struggling to catch air again.

“You did it. Caedes, you did it.” he whispered, with a shaky laugh. “We’re parents.” “Not quite yet,” the practical doula said, quietly, but she was smiling. Very gently, she tended to the injuries; cleaning up the near unresponsive Caedes, smearing some creams or other that Gale paid little attention to, before bundling them back up. “You’re going to need to take a week or two to recover. Walk around when you can but don’t overdo it.” she said, calmly, “Eat, sleep, make sure you’re drinking fluids, gnaw on bones to get your calcium back up. You did fantastic. I am on call if you need me at all.” she added, gently. “Any questions, anything – I can be here, as long as I’m not with another laying.” “Thank you so much.” Gale said, gently. “We do recommend keeping the eggs close, too. Give them a little time to harden before you sleep with them, but the parents’ body heat is always the best way to get a healthy hatchling.” she said, brows drawing in a little as she looked at Caedes; the way he’d told them to take the egg away… “Dragonborn eggs are sturdy; just don’t drop them or shake them and you should be fine. Keep them close where you can, okay?”

She paused, hesitated, as if considering saying something, then deciding against it. “You’re going to do just fine.” she said, eventually, before she left.

Tara leapt lightly onto the crib, sniffing the eggs then sitting down next to the larger one, purring just slightly.

“I was thinking.” Gale said, after a moment, drawing Caedes to his chest and kissing his forehead, seeing the slight glaze in their eyes. He stroked a hand along their cheek as they didn’t respond. “Mirabeli for the first one. It means wonderful.” he let out a slightly choked little laugh, sniffing slightly. “What about Miracle for the other one?” the dragonborn didn’t reply, eyes flickering, lost in the past as he trembled and their body settled into the emptiness. “Yeah. I like those.” he kissed the pale snout again, closing his own eyes and nuzzling in closer, into the messy nest of blankets. He would clear up the towels and the soaked bedding in a little bit. Eyes fixed on the two eggs in their crib, the tressym settled next to them, and trying not to let his heart constrict with fear. “Mirabeli and Miracle.”

#ooc //#my stories #the future I didn't know I had || post game

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because-its-eurovision · 2 years ago

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I did not forget that I was supposed to write some kind of concert report thingy @another-sun asked for, but I've just been so overwhelmed

anyway, here are some of the things I can remember from seeing Blind Channel's secret show with @thisisntaparty who I now own my life to 🖤

- the tickets stated that you are not allowed to camp out in front of Tavastia, so we were there maybe one hour before the doors were supposed to open and there was only ten or twelve people before us

- at the door they checked our ids and took signed NDAs that we wouldn't record during Flatline

- there were free water bottles and soda cans available, they also sold merch and I got the new Flatline shirt after the show, no other new merch items

- we just. walked. to the stage. no fence. nothing. like literally Olli's platform was maybe 20 cm in front of us (already started to lose our minds because they would be SO CLOSE to us) 😶😶

- Santeri came to stage and reminded us of the not filming part, and told us that the gig would last around 30 mins

- thisisntaparty was checking her phone and we were wondering if the show would start in half an hour and AT THE SAME MOMENT the intro started playing and Tommi stepped on stage, and then Aleksi and Joonas and Olli RIGHT IN FRONT OF US and then Niko & Joel and I just started screaming and screeching so hard I had to press both palms in front of my mouth to muffle it because it was just too much 😭😭

- they played Over My Dead Body, We Are No Saints, Balboa, Bad Idea, Flatline and Dark Side, in that order

- all of them wore the Flatline promo clothes which I loved because I'm so used to seeing them in same black stage clothes. special shout out Joonas's shiny overalls and Olli's boots ✨️

- I was headbanging ridiculously hard during the first two songs, OMDB still has that great EDM drop with all of them dancing and spinning around the stage and WANS is just SO good and epic live and I love it aaaarrrrrrrr 🖤🖤🖤

- at some point we were just grabbing each other for support because everything felt so overwhelming 🥹

- Olli & Joonas switched places more often than I think they usually do so we got great uhhh close-ups of them both

- almost got hit in the head multiple times by the bass neck because Olli still doesn't know how to handle his instrument responsibly 😅

- Balboa works live like a charm but of course we all knew that, and everyone around me was singing to Bad Idea from the bottom of their lungs, and I'm getting welled up right now because that song has meant SO MUCH to me and made me feel less alone during the last year and just hearing the crowd singing in unison there's darkness and it follows me --ok moving on before I'll start crying again

- I was asked to hide all spoilers and opinions about Flatline, so those are under the read more 👇

- Joel called Dark Side an "old classic" that they "have to play so they won't forget it" 🖤

- when the show was over Joel started giving fistbumps to the first row and at first he couldn't reach us because we were too far, but then he climbed on the platform and gave thisisntaparty a triplebump as if to apologise 😄 and I got one too 🥰 and Joonas gave us highfives as well and I still can't believe they are real people and I saw them up close and touched them and are we still sure that wasn't just a dream or some kind of croup hallucination 🥲

Disclaimer: I heard the live version, wasn't wearing any earplugs so the sound wasn't very clear, and I was also out of my mind 🥲

the beginning/intro is the English version of what Käärijä read from the card in his ig story. it's like an infomercial sales pitch: are you tired of ups and downs, do you feel like you can separate music from your thoughts? or something along those lines. my guess is that it won't be a part of the actual song, but rather a separate intro they are going to use in shows and eventually it will end up on the album, similarly to National Heroes/We Are No Saints. I like it, it's funny.

we've heard the chorus in the preview clips, and melodically it's the part I can remember. as in many other BC songs and especially singles, the chorus is the catchiest part and repeats three times growing bigger and getting more massive sound every time (think Dark Side, Bad Idea, Over My Dead Body, WANS, you get the idea). most of their songs use the same structure and why fix it if it ain't broken.

there are also three or four instrumental parts, one right at the beginning, when they do the stupid boyband dance move <3

Joel said on stage that he was very nervous before the song, and they've said that their music style is changing, but for me it didn't sound that different to their earlier stuff. compared to BB or VP LotSaD has much more variety and experimentation of different styles and sounds, even genres (like Don't Fix Me vs Autopsy or Bad Idea vs Glory For the Greedy), and in my opinion Flatline wouldn't have been the odd one out if it was on their fourth album.

it does sound bigger, heavier, more massive, yes, but otherwise it's a very standard BC single, compared to for example We Are No Saints which has the epic choir and guitar solo we don't have in ANY of their other songs. but of course I neither can remember everything that happened in the song nor did I hear all the nuances and instruments in the live performance, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

I'm in love of the lyrics and the guitar riff and can't wait to hear to studio version on Friday 🖤

#blind channel #flatline spoilers

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happyinjection · 2 years ago

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♠️♥️High Card Radio Mini Drama 3 “Setsubun Festival”♦️♣️

Source

Finn: Fortune, come in! Demons, get out![*]

Chris: That hurts!

Finn: Woah. You’re clocking in unusually early, Mister Red Demon.[**]

Chris: Who are you calling a Red Demon?! Good grief. What’s the fun in throwing beans, anyway?

Finn: Today is Setsubun, so naturally I’m throwing beans. How can you not know something this obvious, *mocking laughter* surprisingly Chris is clueless about it too, huh.

Chris: Ooh, if that’s the case, surely the highly knowledgeable Finn-kun knows why people throw beans during Setsubun, right.

Finn: Urk! A-aah... Sure thing, sure thing!

Chris: Very well! I wonder if you would be so kind to explain to me why on Setsubun beans are scattered around, what’s the re-a-son?

Finn: Ehh?! Uh, actually, just now, Wendy said--

Chris: Ah? Don’t put it on someone else. *voice drops an octave lower* Look at me in the eyes and answer me. What’s the reason beans are thrown during Setsubun.

Finn: Uhhh. That is... um... it’s... throwing beans makes people happy, or rather... the idea of throwing beans just suddenly come up on Setsubun, I guess... ehh, they say people should throw beans on Setsubun, I think, and that’s why we’re throwing beans on Setsubun...

Chris: *sneers* Sounds like a tongue-tied politician.

Finn: What the hell is that! You act mighty, but you probably don’t know either, do you?!

Chris: Excuse me. I do know stuff I that I know, but I don’t know stuff that I don’t.

Finn: Huh. So, to put it simply... do you know? Or, do you not?

Chris: Whether I know or not know is a trivial matter. There’s one thing I would like to say though, why do we have to keep the demons out?!

Finn: ...tch. Chris too likes to talk big and play dirty.

Chris: But I don’t think they’re terrible! No matter how much of a demon they are, you don’t have to kick them out, do you?!

Finn: Uhh, who knows? Living as a demon is already hard enough as it is...

Chris: That is exactly why, starting from today: Demons, come in! Fortune, too, come in! From now on may our problem comes from being cool, happy, and sexy! Alright, Finn, let’s chant it together~!

Finn: Demons, come in! Fortune, too, come in! Demons... come in! Fortune, too... come in! Demons-- *music and bean throwing SFX abruptly stops*

Chris: --Eh? That’s early... he came in early today.

Finn: Huh? What was I doing, you ask? Ah well, hahaha, this is... today’s Setsubun... so it can’t be helped, right...

Chris: T-true, true, true, true, today’s just right for the spirit of bean throwing, isn’t it.

Finn: That being so, we--

Chris: We didn’t mean to fool around--!

Finn: *resigned sigh* ...Got it, got it. Consider it done.

Chris: Eeh?! As a punishment both of us must clean the toilet too?!

Finn & Chris: Grrr... That damned Blue Demon!

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL Notes: again, I’m not a professional translator, feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes. This is a part from their routine radio show, in the beginning of each episode they insert an in-character comedic skit. [*] A common mantra to say while throwing beans on Setsubun to invite fortune into and expel demons from one’s home, which Chris later fixes to fit his ideals. [**] A pun here, Finn calls Chris Mr. Red Demon (Aka Oni-san), but he’s sort of a Red Big Bro (Aka Onii-san) too, isn’t he? The voiceless Blue Demon is also rather easy to figure out.

#highcard #high card #high card radio #translation #finn oldman #chris redgrave

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dellamortethelesser · 2 years ago

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Finally going to lore dump about my Laurent Surana. Going to drop the lore underneath the cut but feel free to read and ask me anything about him :3 he’s not completely finished!!

Laurent Surana and his cousin, Rook, are actually alternate POVs that accompany Mahanon in my fic and they travel with him throughout the events of Origins. They join the party after the Kinloch Hold debacle with Wynne.

Rook was from Denerim and was taken in by Templars when she was young (resulting in the death of her elder brother attempting to protect her). Laurent was born and raised in Orlais and hid his magic until he was 12; his parents found out and arranged for Templars to take him right out of his bed. Because they had the money to move him around, they got him transferred across the border to Kinloch Hold so that way he could be together with his cousin.

Laurent and Rook leave with Wynne and become part of the Origins squad; Rook becomes spirit healer and trains under Morrigan, leaning towards entropy. Laurent undertakes the Arcane Warrior specialty. Laurent’s arc with the Origins crew is about disillusionment and the loss of his romanticism …

SHIT OKAY THIS IS A LOT im speeding uip im skipping lore. BRRR so after origins they find and destroy their phylacteries in denerim. rook becomes a warden, laurent does not but travels with them. when mahanon disappears with morrigan through the mirror it sends people into an uproar because uh thats treason. and considering laurent is an apostate and doesn't have the protection of the grey wardens, he bails (which i think in my worldstate so does anders)

time passes, he's still looking for mahanon, remembers Merill from Clan Sabrae and goes to seek her out, which takes him to kirkwall, etc etc. He disguises himself as an Orlesian Knight (which garners attention but not for being a mage, moreso for being an elf. its funny), connects with Merrill and tries to aid her with the mirror, is the one who stumbles upon Seb's quest for vengeance and inadvertently drags Hawke into it, etc etc. His whole bit is that he goes by a pseudonym (Garahel!) and is never completely honest with them (save for Merrill and Anders, the latter of which doesn't like him too much at the end of all things.)

Well, and Sebastian. Re: The Tale of Lohengrin, Laurent swears to answer any question asked of his lover with honesty, but if Sebastian asks him his name, he will have to leave. so uhhh yeah knightly romance hours.

There’s this vibe where he’s like He’s not playing “The Game” as an Orlesian noble who thinks it’s funny and crude and is willing to let their servants and lessers die he’s gambling on this idea that this specific play will work out in his favor … it’s a masque … emotional and literal … it’s… mmm

Basically he’s got the uhh an Orlesian mask and it’s like ITS LITERAL BUT ALSO METAPHORICAL and it’s the .. it’s the fact that Kirkwall, out of any place we see in Thedas, is the great imbalance; there will come a time where he will have to look at Sebastian and come forward with every lie and every hurt because you cannot have a true and honest relationship without those things but the very act of revealing is so discomforting that Laurent feels he has no choice but to leave, removing the agency of his partner in the decision

Anyways ok those are my rough thoughts enjoy the art from my irl breastie and @vahingoniloinenlapsi

#I can talk more abt him and this themes #but I’ll stop there #send me asks tho if ur curious #I can’t shut up about my blorbos #text post #dragon age origins #laurent surana #da2 #breastie art #muru art

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narwhalandchill · 1 year ago

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Tag game: Current

got tagged by @begaydoalchemy !! thank u !!

- Current time: 9:45 (AM for you US peeps smh)

- Current activity: finished up prefarming blades traces to 6/8/8/8. double calyx drops events is a godsend. was listening to a video essay on the bg but the favorite song section made me go listen to stiny on repeat again bc i love inflicting emotional damage on myself so i guess thats what.

- Currently thinking about: so theres this person in the hsr leaks subreddit megathread doing daily renheng insanity ponderings since blades trailer dropped and ive been just losing my mind ever since reading them. anyway i wanted everyone here to get to see them too but didnt wanna repost em bc its just kinda ehhhh to do so. here u go!! suffer with me!!! click the links theres all 3!!! (spoilery warning tho. idr how many leaks refs there are in there exactly but expect some at least)

- Current favorite song: spotify most listened to top5 currently looking like NEON by raon, kissaki by reol, wildfire, cha cha cha (we will never forgive xx swedes watch out) and stiny from KALUSH & jerry heil.

but like let me be clear the only reason reol isnt number 1 is bc the full version of the song only came out like 2 weeks ago and the earlier released shorter anime ver of kissaki is literally 7th on the list.

- Currently reading: ...i mean mostly just renheng fanfic but uhhh. i did read where the crawdads sing from delia owens (just plucked it out from the bookshelf randomly bc i was bored) a month or so back. it was neat but no like particular strong feelings abt it. it was very well written and i liked the flow of the prose a lot. also waiting for crooked kingdom to get a finnish translation bc i got six of crows in finnish and i dont do book series as mixed language sets generally. (also the translation work itself was just like an absolute fucking banger with the imagery and metaphors used like chef kiss)

- Currently watching: no particular show (last thing was when i rewatched fmab a couple months ago) going on but like. random video essays or informative stuff on yt honestly and its mostly for bg noise.

- Current favorite character: gee i wonder. dan heng (past editions included), blade, (big gap here bc i tunnel vision on characters), bailu, luocha, jing yuan i think for specific ones from hsr for now. am looking out for jingliu and fu xuan too i need to study them. in genshin its like. yeah its mr childe ajax tartaglia all the way but i kinda just havent been feeling it for the game much so eh. tighnari, kazuha up there too n arlecchino obvi.

- Current WIPS: what kind of productive person do you take me for??? ig i like. opened word this week to type out some random passage drafts for a ficlet type thing relating to the post i made a while back abt belobogs temperatures wrt dan hengs potential terrible, horrible, no good, very bad scalie time with it but do Not expect any results from that or anything i s2g. ive finished one fic in my life and that was half poetry half madness full one sitting and be done with it type deal

im sorry i have no idea who to tag so like. anyone who wants to do it feel free, mutuals or followers!!! :]

#rambles #this was my first tag game thing ever would u believe. it was fun :]

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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Incubus!Bakugou x Male!Reader | NSFW 18+ |

So Y/n decides to summon a demon one day just for fun. He doesn’t actually expect it to work but what else is there to do on a Friday when your home alone? (Well, there’s many things but Y/n is weird so why not?) He doesn’t actually know what an incubus is, all he knows is that it’s a type of demon. So when he summons the demon and it actually works he’s quite surprised. He tries to explain to the demon that has introduced himself as Bakugou Katsuki, that he was mostly just messing around. Bakugou then asks him if he knows what an incubus is. When Y/n says he doesn’t know, Bakugou smirks and decides to just show him instead.

I just wanna say HI I LOVE THIS REQUEST, MORE MONSTERS PLEASE

Warnings: nsfw, anal, oral, two dongs! uhhh demon semen, very slight cumflation, i’m really bad at warnings omfg

Requests are open!

When you had decided to mess around and summon a demon, you didn’t really expect it to work.

Yeah, you had followed the instructions to a T, and yeah, those instructions came from a musty old book that was probably bound in human skin or something, but seriously? You had just been bored, and what else was there to do on a Friday night other than summon an incubus, whatever that was? It’s not like it was hard to do, either; a few weird chalk drawings on the floor, some candles, and a bunch of words you didn’t know the meaning of, and suddenly, there was something crawling up out of the center of the pentagram.

So, yeah, a typical Friday night, really.

The demon was, to put it simply, pretty fucking hot. The first thing you saw was a hand reaching up, thick black claws digging into your hardwood floor as it hauled itself out. As you stumbled back, more of the creature appeared, rising up as if you had just opened some sort of portal. It--or he?--was bathed in a red light that came from below, and it...or, he, seemed to be totally naked.

And pretty well endowed...not that you noticed, or anything.

Wait...were there two...?

“Oi, what’s the deal?” he growled, voice rough. He was standing above you now, cracking his neck to the side as he crossed his arms over a well-muscled chest.

“H-huh?” you blinked up at him.

Fuck, he was gorgeous, he really was. His hair was blonde and spiky, something you hadn’t really imagined on a demon. Two tall black horns curled up from his forehead, the tips capped in gold, but as grand as they were, you were focused on his eyes. They were crimson, the color of blood, and they were piercing right through you.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Humans.” he mumbled under his breath before crouching in front of you. “My name is Katsuki Bakugou, and you just summoned me. So are we getting this thing going, or what?”

“Wh-what?” you stammered, still staring in disbelief.

He looked completely unimpressed. “Seriously? What’s your deal? You summon me just to waste my time or somethin’, you idiot?”

Your face reddened in anger and embarrassment. “No! I...I didn’t really expect it to work, that’s all.”

The demon raised an eyebrow. “In over your head, huh? What were you doin’, messin’ with stuff you aren’t supposed to touch? Shit, you humans are so stupid sometimes...accidentally summoning a demon, tch...yeah right...”

“I did it on purpose, you know!” you snapped, irritated with his demeanor already. “I just...didn’t think I would actually summon something.”

Bakugou paused his annoyed grumbling and looked you over. “Well, here I am. What do you want from me? I’d rather get this over with quick. I’m a busy guy.”

You wondered what exactly he was so busy doing all day, but rather than ask, you realized that you had no idea what to do with the demon you had just summoned.

“Oh, uh...” you stared at him blankly. “What...well, what can you do?”

It was his turn to stare. “The hell you mean? You’re the one who summoned an incubus. You tell me.”

You sat back, leaning against your couch and rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I, uh...don’t really know what that means. I mean, I know an incubus is a demon and all, but that’s about...it...”

You trailed off, equal parts transfixed and concerned by the grin that was slowly creeping onto Bakugou’s face. It was predatory, showing off his sharp fangs as he pulled his lips back in a menacing snarl, and you were beginning to feel a bit like a rabbit that had just been caught by a fox.

“Oh, human...” he purred, creeping towards you on all fours.

You gulped, heart pounding. “Y/N. I’m y/n.”

His grin grew wider, and you suddenly wondered if you had just made a horrible mistake in telling him your name.

“Well, y/n,” he said, voice smooth as honey as he placed a hand on your shin. “Why don’t I just show you what an incubus does?”

“Uh,” you were frozen in place, staring into those mesmerizing eyes. “S-sure?”

That was when you noticed the tail.

It slipped around your thigh, giving a tight squeeze as if holding you in place. Not like you were going anywhere, anyways; Bakugou was already making his way up your legs, reaching for your zipper. There was a hungry glint in his eyes as he shoved your jeans down, and by the time you realized you had been focusing on them, you also realized your cock was hard.

Huh. When did that happen?

Bakugou leaned down, a long tongue sliding out of his mouth and wrapping around your cock. The second his lips touched you, your head fell back on the couch cushion behind you, a low moan leaving your throat. It was the best head you had ever received, and as the demon bobbed up and down on it greedily, you couldn’t believe how much you were already aching to cum.

The air was filled with a heavy, luscious scent that you couldn’t place. All you knew was that it was the best thing you had ever smelled, and it was absolutely coming from the incubus currently crouching between your legs. He was insatiable, that fucking tongue sliding up and down, over and over, urging and coaxing and milking until you felt yourself unraveling. He swallowed every drop of cum, eyes flashing a bright red as he looked up at you.

“This is what an incubus does, human,” he grinned, licking his lips.

“O-oh,” you panted, chest heaving. You hadn’t realized you had been bracing yourself with your hands on the back of the couch, afraid to touch the demon as he went down on you, but now you were beginning to feel the tension leave your shoulders. “I...uh...wow...”

Bakugou stepped away from you and stood. “Up.”

You obeyed blindly, staring up at his twin cocks. They were standing at attention now, the lower one larger than the top, both shaped somewhat similarly to a human’s but also entirely differently. The sight of them made you want to find out more, to touch and explore, and before you could stop yourself, you were licking at the underside of a shaft while the demon’s hand guided your head. He tasted incredible, precum already oozing out of the tip, and as you worked on the bigger cock, he used his free hand to jack off the other.

“Good human,” he growled down at you. “Making yourself useful so that I can make you feel even better later...”

You didn’t know what he was talking about, but you didn’t care. The taste of his cum was intoxicating, and the longer you sucked, the harder your own dick grew. You could feel a puddle of precum dripping down between your legs, your skin hot with arousal as that heavy scent swirled around you. Fuck, you couldn’t think. All you wanted was him.

“Easy now,” he grunted, pulling your hair until you could no longer reach his cock.

You whined, reaching for it, but his tail immediately wrapped around your wrists and held you back.

Bakugou chuckled. “On your hands and knees. Now.”

You had no choice but to obey, and as his warm hands ran up your back, you sighed. As terrifying as he was, you felt totally at ease. Even as he tore your shirt off, he was careful not to harm you, gentle in all of his movements.

“Mmm, look at you...” he purred in that deep, rough voice of his. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, human...”

You shivered at his words, letting out a surprised, strangled moan as you felt his tongue on your ass. It swirled around, dipping in to stimulate your hole before it was replaced by one of his claws. You expected to feel pain, but there was only immeasurable pleasure as he finger fucked you, and soon, his other hand moved to stroke your cock. He was so masterful, so absolutely confident in all of his motions, and he soon had you cumming again, moaning his name as you made a mess all over your own floor.

“F-fuck,” you said, shaking slightly.

“Good?” he asked, grabbing your ass appreciatively.

“Fuck yes,” you let your head drop, leaning against the floor as you tried to catch your breath.

“The best is yet to come, human.”

You glanced around your arm, looking back at him. “What do you...?”

Your eyes widened at the sight of him leaning towards you, one of his cocks definitely aiming for your ass.

“W-wait! You’re not going to fit--”

“Trust me,” he said soothingly, holding your hip. “Just relax and let me do my job.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, watching over your shoulder as he slowly pressed his larger cock into you.

There wasn’t any of the pain you expected. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. Bakugou felt amazing, his cock stretching you in a way you had never experienced before. Hell, you hadn’t even played with your ass that much in the past, and suddenly here he was, finding a steady pace and rutting into you like a starved, depraved monster.

The sounds you were letting out were filthy, the room filled with guttural moans and groans and the slapping of skin against skin. Each of his thrusts felt better than the last, the ridges of his inhuman cock stimulating you in the most perfect way while his smaller dick slid between your cheeks.

Your own cock was so hard again, it was painful, and as if he sensed your discomfort, Bakugou reached around to grab it for you.

“That’s it,” he purred in your ear, completely covering you with his own body.

You shuddered at the sensation of his breath on your ear. It was enough to drive you over the edge again, and with a pleased sound, the demon withdrew from you. Both of his hands found their way to you hips, claws digging into your flesh as he picked up his pace, and now that you had been satisfied once more, it was clear that he was chasing his own release.

He was grunting and growling, his tail swishing behind him as he bared his fangs in a nasty snarl. When he finally came, it was with a throaty groan, his head tossed back as he buried himself deep inside of you and filled you up.

And when he came, he came. It didn’t seem to stop, rope after rope of his thick seed eventually oozing back out around his cock, your lower belly slightly distended as he just kept going. It felt warm, but in a pleasant way, and when he finally pulled back out and caught his breath, you could feel it all spilling down your thighs.

“Well,” he laughed, leaning back on his knees as he looked at you.

“That was amazing,” you gasped as you collapsed, knees finally giving out.

He smirked. “Was it, human? I’ll give you a few minutes before round two.”

Your face fell. “Wait, what?”

“You didn’t really think that was it, did you?” he laughed tauntingly. “Oh, no. I like you. I like the taste of you. You give me so much energy...I’m sticking around for a while, human.”

Well...there were probably worse arrangements to be in, right?

#incubus! x reader #incubus!bakugou #demon!bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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tezzbot · 3 years ago

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applejack headcanons in a sort of timeline i have in my head based on the flashbacks/statements in the show lol this is gonna get long i apologise

aj is born in the sweet apple acres barn to bright mac and pear butter :D

we get the apple family reunion episode flashback where she is lichrally baby asking for apple fritters 🥺

she grows up a bit, just by family gene pool luck shes a strong little fucker and as she grows her family realises she's not just physically strong but strong willed too, it becomes a running joke that shes secretly part mule with how stubborn she can be :P

bright mac had a dog from when he was younger that he loved with all his heart, big mac loved him too but applejack thought was a grumpy old lump of a beast she just Did Not Like This Animal you know how kids can be lmaooo

applejack and big mac dont really leave the farm all that much, theyre homeschooled by their parents and granny smith so, generally they dont have that many friends their age in their childhood, they say hi and play a bit with fillies and colts they pass while helping out with deliveries, aj and rarity possibly have a few interactions through this but nothing really sticks at this point, they know each others names and thats probably it, the apple siblings are a big hit with usual customer and ponies who sell them things in the market

pear butter teaches aj how to play the guitar and she practices until her hooves hurt, her ma is very proud of her, they like to play duets when they have some alone time :] then, deciding to branch out from that applejack also picks up other instruments like the banjo and the fiddle, they find out she has quite a knack for music! (applejack is only slightly disappointed she doesnt get her cutie mark from it, but unlike applebloom would be in the future, she doesnt mind all that much, after all granny smith always said it'd come with time 😌)

not long after little applebloom is born we get the great seedling episode flashback which is a turning point in applejack, a moment like finding out santa or the tooth fairy isnt real, she matures a little bit that day, gains more of the work ethic we see in her as an adult

around this time is when bright mac and pear butter die :( i dont have a concrete headcanon on How they die but the dangerous trade routes the apples have to take to make deliveries may have had something to do with it, or maybe they were trying to protect the farm from something coming from the everfree forest, im not sure

the rest of the apple family make their way to sweet apple acres to give their condolences and help out in any way they can around the farm while our apples grieve :( its sad but it brings aj and big mac closer than they'd ever been

after shes recovered a little from that, i think aj kind of loses herself, i mean how can you not after losing both parents :(( so she decides to leave the farm in the hopes she'll be able to find herself again in manehattan, this is the cutie mark chronicles flashback and where she realises she belongs in ponyville, Runs home and gets her cutiemark

after a little bit, to help her become a little bit more social with foals her age, applejack goes to camp friendship where she meets little coloratura and the two Immediately click, aj gives her new best friend the nickname rara and they're practically inseparable the whole summer, their friendship starts to grow into something more but rara is heading back to manehatten after camp and applejack belongs back in ponyville, so they decide to give a lonb distance relationship a try, they manage to exchange letters back and forth for a long time, ultimately deciding a long distance relationship wasnt gonna work so they mutually decide to break up but still stay pen pals! after a while, the letters stop and they become just a memory in one anothers minds

sweet apple acres eventually returns to a business as usual state, with groups of relatives stopping by the farm now and again to give a helping hoof considering its now run by a late-middle aged lady, two children and a baby lol, applejack, while still doing a lot of tree bucking, is starting to take on a more maternal figure role in applebloom's life as well as being her sister, her and big mac feels more responsible and protective of the foal since she would be growing up with no ma and pa, they sort of took on those roles, applejack more intensely i guess i just see her as having strong maternal instincts embedded in her or something lol, but she for sure isnt "single mom"ing it, with granny smith and other relatives ready to take the little bugger when aj needs to get stuff done :P it takes a village and all that lmao

since at this time aj and big mac are starting to go into town more often and are free to do as they please as long as their chores get done, they start actually interacting more with teens their age in ponyville! applejack starts hanging out with fillies like rarity who she had known in passing but now could finally get to know and the cake's new apprentice and ponyvilles youngest party planner, pinkie pie

after starting to hit some awkward growth spurts as she reaches her teens lol, she starts taking an interest in the business side of the farmwork too, dealings with customers, looking into trade routes stuff like that, this is when the where the apple lies flashback takes place i fuckin love that episode please watch it, and this starts applejack's lifelong promise to never lie ever again which she keeps bc shes a legend as fuck <3

one day aj notices cloudsdale passing through probably to start preparing ponyville for the next season, and she hears a Thud coming from a row or two over from where she's working, she goes over to investigate to find a pegasus filly shaking off what aj can only assume was a crash, she asks if shes alright, n the filly is like of course i am im so tough toughest around actually thanks<3 and aj is internally like hm. this kids kinda annoying. they introduce themselves and applejack finds out rainbow dash is looking for her friend fluttershy, she likes to come down from cloudsdale to play with animals or something, but applejack hasnt seen any yellow pegasi fillies around so the little blue filly says thanks anyway and zips off at what aj can only describe as probably the speed of light, she somehow has a strange feeling this isnt gonna be the last she sees of this kid

she turns out to be right when shes invited to a happy visit to ponyville from cloudsdale party thrown for rainbow and fluttershy, apparently rainbow had bumped into pinkie while asking around ponyville for any idea where fluttershy and of course pinkie Had to make an event out of it once she had helped rainbow find her friend, the party was of course a lot of fun rainbow and aj somehow managed to turn every party game into a competition and despite their first impressions of one another they actually got along really well and gained a good amount of respect for each other, aj eventually found fluttershy sort of hiding away from most of the party and fluttershy actually opened up a little after talking with aj bc of how calming her presence was for her

over the next few years the five got to know each other quite well, anytime cloudsdale passed by rainbow and fluttershy would drop into ponyville to hang out or just say hi, and once they were old enough they moved into their ponyville houses and the five of them became just a regular friend group youd see hanging out on the streets of ponyville, fluttershy helps aj pick out a border collie puppy for help with wrangling critters on the farm (applebloom was getting too old to be sent off to mindlessly run after little animals all the time and she had started going to school so she wasnt around as much lmaoo) and just as a companion for applejack, she names her Winona :]

and then after those few years Twilight shows up! you know the rest from there :P

if i missed anything uhhh whoops<3 lol

#mlp #mlp applejack #tezztalks #mlp headcanons #might make more of these idk tho #block that tag if u dont wanna see em BDNVD #the hc tag i mean

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itstheimpossibledream · 4 years ago

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Only A Play-Part 2

Word Count:3053

Pairing : AU Henry & FemBlack! Reader

Warning:Angst, soon to come Smut

Summary: Y/n and Henry still trying to navigate their mutual attraction but, their job is making it harder to deny.The next chapter is already written, there’s sex in it I swear.

"So today I want you guys to focus on working with Dana" Steve began

"She's our resident intimacy coordinator, I've already gone over the scene with her and she's going to make sure it goes over as smooth as possible. We're going to get her assistance a couple times during this process but today we're going to empty out the studio so have fun, play and get to know eachother. Today is just a day for you two to find some comfortable physicality with eachother." Stephen winks at you and then begins ushering tech and the few ensemble members out of the room. Friend or not, anyone attracted to men could not deny that Mr. Cavill was absolutley gorgeous, as wasted as it may be. In all honesty you hadn't spoken much aside from that snowy day outside the studio. He did begin to bring coffee and Kal to rehearsals and you tended to find the snuggly, bear of a dog always next to you when you were waiting for a cue but, it wasn't as though the two of you had had a heart-to-heart and resolved any of these unspoken differences. And as far as the scene was concerned your heart was doing backflips unable to tell which action would come more naturally, to kiss him or to hit him.

"So I'm seeing a lot of passion here! O !Please remove your shoes for today's lesson." Dana cuts in breaking the silence. Both of you look down at the wood paneled floor. Now was the time where you really had to work, you think to yourself while slowly slipping out of your shoes.

“Unfortunately Dana, “ Henry begins, immediately charming the brakes off of her.

“ At this point of the play I believe her character is quite conflicted, as a woman she obviously wants to give in to him but, at the same time she knows she'll be letting down her family and he will too, they'll live a life with no family outside of the one they create for themsevles. It's quite powerful.But, a tough emotional point to bring oneself to."

"That may be how Christopher sees it -" you snap referring to his character. You are suddenly aware that you sound way more upset then you had intended to. "She doesn't want have sex with him because if she does she's giving up more than him,she always has.That's the whole story of their relationship. " you say, allowing your words to be the dam between the flood of frustration you want to direct his way.

"So as you said we both have a lot of emotions here, we need to work on honing them into something that could potentially work itself into this explosion of passion okay?" Dana jumped excitedly. She looks exactly like what you would have expected from an intimacy coordinator.She wore a long moo-moo like dress and chunky amber jewelry.She smelled of a ton of weed, not as though you were really complaining but, it all added to the aesthetic that had washed into the room on her heels as she had entered.

"I want to begin with an exercise- Mr.Cavill I know you've done scenes like this before so please work with me if I touch on some things you've already heard." she says leaning over and squeezing his forearm while winking. Great even the sex scene coordinator thought he was hot.

" I'm going to give you the space to choose but I want you both to just slowly go through the scene and when you hit a line that feels acceptable you remove an item of clothing. On stage you've both agreed to full nudity but today I just want to push you to do what feels comfortable!" Quietly you both moved to the opposite ends of the room, hitting your marks to begin the scene. You said your first few lines focusing on washing the dishes, the studio didn't have running water so it ended up being more like mime washing dishes. You were so much more professional than you were proving to be in this moment but, the second Henry removed his shirt you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. On his first line?Really? That was so like him ,so pompous. And even more upsetting how ridiculously attractive he was. God was his body sculpted from marble? Nothing but pure muscle rippling evenly, he seemed somehow tanned, despite the blistering New York winter. You focused hitting your next line perfectly ,completely unphased by his topless body.With the following delivery you shrug out of your jacket, revealing your tank top. Thank christ you had expected to have a hook-up with a bartender after today's rehearsal. You weren't in full lingerie but, you were definitely in a matching set. A matching set that happened to make your ass look great. You held that in your back pocket, knowing you had every right to parade about, naked in the same room as someone who was a shoe-in to be named 'World's Sexiest Man'. You went for it, pulling off your tank top with your next line. This is when your blocking got physical. You had run this scene before but, running it scantily clad was an entirely different matter. You were supposed to straddle him. That seemed simple enough. You stood before him, gingerly sliding one knee up onto the couch and then swinging another to the other side of him.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, low and slow. You hated how during the scenes he actually had moments of completely brilliant acting where you could see an amazing talent. Then, you felt his hand on your knee. It was absurdly large and warm, so warm. You froze. You didn't want to do it but, you froze.Your eyes flitted all over the room, desperately looking for a way out , to end the scene. You feel his hand move up your thigh, it's the blocking, he's just doing his job, you remind yourself. But, something in you makes you afraid of his touch. You look into his eyes and you can tell he's noticed you shrinking under his touch. He clears his throat and drops character.Changing his intention toward Dana.

"I'm sorry can we start over? I completely forgot my line." he smiled at her.

"Sure! That was really great I think just focus a bit more on your intention. It's funny I think you guys had more sexual tension at the start of the rehearsal than at the top of the scene!" she laughed to herself. "Okay, let's take a step back, relax , stand up ! Stand up!" she says, jumping to her feet. The two of you peeled yourself apart from each other and you found yourself looking down at your perfectly perky breasts feeling more insignificant than ever. You could feel your face heating up by his move to take the blame for the scene. It was much more gentlemanly than you were expecting from him.

"How about we take a break and come back in twenty? She suggested after a few warm-ups of jumping around and saying self -assuring mantras out-loud. After half a bottle of water, redressing, boring stretches and pretending to avoid eye-contact with Henry your rehearsal was finally up.

“ Oookay guys good stuff. Goooood stuff ! So for the weekend tomorrow I know Stephen had you signed up for a few meet and greets and publicity shoots but, I actually think that if you guys could set aside the time that you do spend together to get physically comfortable it could do a lot for your onstage comfortability. Hand holding, general petting or stroking, you may even want to try a light sitting on the lap, just anything really to get you more used to one another. This relationship needs to seem as effortless and fluid as possible.” She smiled “ also note that my number is free for 24/7 communication so if something comes up for you emotionally in this work feel free to get in contact with me, even if it's just to chat my door is always open!" she beams,collecting her water bottle and other assorted scripts she was reading through at the beginning of the rehearsal.

Stephen reenters and, he and Dana go to the corner of the room to talk.

You work your back pack onto your shoulder and begin to head for the door.

"Wait up!" Henry calls out from behind you. You whirl around and almost bump into him. His sweatshirt is baggy but unzipped enough that you can see the small tufts of hair playing at the tops of his chest, his baseball cap pulled way down over his forehead. Those blue eyes shined bright from the shade under that baseball cap.

"What are your plans for tonight ?" he asked, slightly exaggerating his breathing from the light jog across the room. You searched the room awkwardly,looking for an out. What is it with him? Why did he think, especially after the last time the two of you had spent alone together, that you would ever want to be included in his plans for the night.

"Perfect Idea!" Stephen exclaims from across the room. "You guys use tonight to bond as much as possible before tomorrow afternoon's interview session yeah?"

"Uhhhh sure ." You agree, not wanting to seem like the town buzz-kill. You turn shrugging towards Henry. He smiles, seeming almost relieved that you agreed without putting up a fight, as Steve moves to rejoin Dana in the back

"So uhhh my place or yours?" he asks in a half hearted joke.

"Uhhh" you definitely don't want him at your place, where there is laundry strewn all over the apartment .

"I mean I have to feed my dog and run some errands anyway so my apartment would be ideal."

"O great! Okay yeah , let's do that then." you pushed on the door and headed for the elevator, the ride down to the lobby of the rehearsal studios was entirely silent, filled with awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact. Only punctuated by a short uber black ride in silence to an apartment on the upper east side. Ofcourse he lived on the upper east side.The doorman was polite as you followed behind him, clearly him bringing strange women up to his apartment was not entirely unheard of. Once in the room, you asked where to sit your bag down, your afternoon ritual usually included a trip to the gym, that is what had become your me -time since college. He motioned you to his guest room, in which you were shocked,contained a shower, granted the entire tiny room was a shower but, being a guest in New York with your own bathroom was definitely not an everyday thing. Especially, for a little black girl from the south.

"Is it okay if I shower before we grab dinner?" you ask.

"Oh! You wanted to grab dinner?I was just going to order chinese."

"That's fine! " you ungracefully exclaimed from the other room.Shit. Hopefully he didn't think you really meant grab dinner like on a date.

"Do you have a special order?"he asked, appearing in the doorway. You turned around slightly alarmed that his voice had gotten that much closer.

"I love everything!" you smile, he looked down at the floor nervously. "but shrimp lomein is my favorite." you say unzipping your jacket and placing it on the bed, your bra was working overtime holding you up and you made a mental note to order another one exactly like it. He cleared his throat and there was a second of silence. You could feel his eyes slowly darting around the room trying not to look at your chest. As actors, especially ones who have to do nude scenes together you didn't think it would be a big deal to him that you were getting ready to shower. You had mentioned on the elevator earlier that you had wanted a shower. Taking off your jacket just seemed like the right next step, nothing to feel weird over.

"Sounds Good!" he exclaims, finally showing you his full smile, for the first time since the rehearsal process had started. God he was a sight, he had removed his hat and you noticed how perfectly his hair curled onto his forhead.It was adhered by sweat but, not the weird homecoming- football helmet sweat, you get from your highschool crush. This was a grown-man glistening infront of you. It sounded ridiculous, the situation itself was ridiculous,why was he even sweating ?

"Sorry-I uh- I didn't know you were showering right now. We can talk about it later if you-"

"It's fine" you say, stepping in and laying a hand on his forearm.His eyes shot down to your hand then immediately back to your eyes, sure to avoid seeming like he was staring at your breasts. He clears his throat again and you can smell the faint cologne on him as you watch his adams apple bob. The air in the room changes and you feel him shift away from you. You mumble a thanks for the dinner as you hear him close the door between you.

Your shower was perfectly steamy and warm, much unlike your brooklyn apartment that had charm and character but, a much worse hot water heater. As you washed away the dirt from the day you tried not to think of Henry, of what he must think of you for absolutely chewing him out just a few short weeks ago. He seemed to have gotten over it but, at the same time perhaps he was just trying to be the better person. As much as you hated to admit it he had completely accepted your scathing critique and was now treating you like the highest paying guest at a five-star resort. You turned down the hot water, basking in the last bit of steam and enjoying the first true silence of your day. Reaching an arm up, you grab a towel, wrapping it around your body. You stretched out for another towel that you had laid across the sink, somehow your legs completely slipped from under you and you crashed to the floor,grabbing the sink for leverage. Really all you did was knock over some toiletries that you had put on the sink earlier and you could feel your cheeks heating up. It was weird to be embarrassed in a room by yourself but, you knew he must've heard something. You sat on the floor, allowing your chin to rest on the top of your knees. You desperately needed a moment to breathe. Life had been so stressful lately, and you possibly had let off a bit too much steam on him. He was actually a nice guy, sure the accessible information on him didn't make him look amazing but when it came down to it once you explained how you felt about him he had worked so hard to seem normal and accessible. For whatever reason he seemed to respect your opinion as an artist. The knock at the door kept you from becoming completely lost in your thoughts. It knocked again and you could hear his feet shuffle on the hard wood outside of the door, the nails of the large dog clicking the floor next to him.

"You okay in there?" It seemed earnest enough.

"Yeah!" you called back "My mind has really been somewhere else lately, I just umm lost my footing- that's all."

"Okay well let me know if you need anything." It was cheery but helpful. Once you heard him close the door to your room you got up and got dressed as quickly as you could, fumbling to get sweatpants on without accident. Today was definitely not your most agile day. You finally let your hair down and put on just the smallest amount of mascara to make your eyes pop.It was an effortlessly hot look that had worked for you for years, especially in college. You closed the door behind you and gently padded your way to the kitchen. The apartment was cozy, Kal was curled up on a rug in the corner of the room while Henry portioned the food onto pristine white plates. You noticed the baseball cap was back on and at least thanked god for giving you that small assistance in removing the temptation to touch him by running your fingers through his hair.

"So you order takeout but refuse to eat it out of the container?"you asked jokingly as he whirled around from the counter.That smile appeared on his face again and you knew you were putty in his hands,The way he filled out his navy blue t-shirt was unbelievable.

"It's less calories this way." he winked. Thank god he had a sense of humor.You returned his smile now sitting in the chair closest to the kitchen. The conversation veered from workout routines, to body image stress as a performer and then back to work. You found yourself sucking a noodle wishing he'd bring up something else. You absolutely could not do a night of niceties and small talk at this point in your life but, you also weren't ballsy enough to walk right up to him and tell him you wanted him.

"Y/N?"he asked

"Yeah?" you jumped being pulled once again from you daydream

"Do you wanna run lines or watch tv or something?"he asked shyly

"Yeah I mean -we can run lines if you want I just thought we were supposed to bond by talking or something." you laughed trying to take the edge off the awkwardness of the scenario.

"Well what do you want to talk about ?' he asked, leaning back in his seat, baseball cap over his eyebrows.His jawline was so sharp it could cut ice, it dawned on you that he was actually much too goodlooking for his own good.

You picked up a fortune cookie at the center of the table and tossed it to him.

"Read me your fortune."you smiled seductively. He raised his eyebrows at you but, something must have convinced him because he simply shook his head and said.

"Okay."

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Text

Pet Names, Double Dates and Other Fiascos

READ PLATONICALLY

Request: SECOND ARO FIC OH MY GOD !!!! maybe them getting a lil dirty and ben really does a number on reader, so he takes her to mcdonalds or sumn and the waiter says something along the lines of “you’re such a cute couple!” and reader gets really uncomfortable with it maybe??? and ben being taking her home and cuddling her PLATONICALLY and he’s like “it’s ok we don’t need to let anyone else’s opinions affect us”

Pairing: Aromantic!Fem!Reader x Ben Hardy

Summary: It's (nearly) all fun and games until someone assumes your relationship is romantic.

Warnings: Smut, kitchen sex, floor sex, oral sex (f receiving), a mild hint at choking, vaguely dom!Ben but not intentionally lmao, discussions of aromanticism and queerplatonic relationships, not as dialogue heavy as the first part though.

Words: 7, 264

A/N: Happy Arospec Awareness Week!! Big thanks to the anon who sent in that request when I asked for ideas for future chapters. I put a little bit of a twist on your idea but it’s fundamentally the same. Also the last scene is one that I’ve been thinking about for literal months now and I finally managed to fit it into a fic!

As always, if you’re curious about anything to do with aromanticism I am very happy to talk about it and answer questions!

Taglist: @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @scorpiogemini

The day had started off well. You woke with Ben tucked up under your arm, his legs curled up towards his chest since you’d stole the covers as you’d slept. Your face was pressed against the back of his neck and you felt him shift as you sighed sleepily and tried to keep from waking. Squeezing your eyes shut and pretending you hadn’t stirred must have worked because the next thing you knew was waking up to an empty bed and tinkly tapping sounds from somewhere else in the apartment. Groggily you shuffled out from the inviting comfort of the mattress, stretched, and pulled down the hem of the shirt you’d slept in to better cover your otherwise bare thighs before following the noises. You found Ben, still in his pyjamas (well, his boxer briefs) in the kitchen, dropping a couple of toasted waffles onto a plate, humming to himself.

“That for me?” you asked, stifling a yawn. “It can be,” he said, passing the plate to you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “There’s some cut up fruit and the maple syrup out on the coffee table and there’s coffee brewing over there,” “Thanks Benny,” “You’re welcome, Puddin’,” “Puddin’?” “I thought it was cute,” “Very cute.” You laughed as you reached for your coffee, unable to help but smile as you left the room. The first few months of your partnership had taken some adjusting and one thing Ben had decided he would do to make you both feel more at home with the dynamic was to come up with some non-romantic based terms of endearment for you. You’d vetoed things like baby and honey straight away, all of them a little too heavily skewed towards romance, or just reminders of past relationships you’d tried to force yourself into, for you to enjoy them. But, as Ben had said, he liked a good pet name, and he’d seemingly been determined to prove as much, constantly coming up with new things to call you. You, never really one for pet names anyway, mostly stuck with Benny or Benjamin if the situation called for something longer but you had a few other go-tos – things like Pet and Blondie as signs of affection, or Handsome and Tiger when you wanted to make him blush.

A few minutes later Ben joined you on the couch, placing his coffee down beside yours, almost spilling it as he watched the news story that was playing. “Remember we’ve got that double date with Jill and Martin this afternoon,” you said, the memory only just coming to you yourself. “Yeah, what time was that?” “Hang on, I’ll check the chat.” You scrolled through the messages on your phone with one hand while you ate with the other, “uhhh right, yeah, meeting at the bowling alley at 1.30.” “Bowling? Good, better than another shitty movie,” You laughed, “hey the last one they picked wasn’t too bad.” “Yeah I know, just not in the mood for it since I’ve been on set all week. I know if I went to the cinema now I’d just get distracted thinking about all the behind the scenes stuff which isn’t ideal for becoming invested in the story. Plus they’re always choosing romcoms, doesn’t that get annoying for you?” “Not really,” you shrugged, “I mean, do I sometimes wish they’d branch out? Sure. But I enjoy romance in fiction I just don’t need it in my real life. Don’t get me wrong though, very happy to do something different this time.” “How long d’you think we’ll be out?” You shrugged, “A few hours maybe?” “We should pop to the shop on the way back then. You need milk and we could get something nice for dinner.” “Sounds good. Does that mean you’re staying over again tonight?” “I was planning to, yeah. Barely saw you last week so I was hoping to spend all weekend with you to make up for it.” “Bet you regret agreeing to go out with them now,” “Kinda. S’pose it’s too late to cancel though,” “Nah you still could but you know they’ll get stroppy about it and we’ll have to go out with them next week. They don’t have any other couple friends since Neil and Percy split and Bianca took her fella overseas.” “Yeah, wasn’t seriously suggesting it.” “What would the plan have been if we did cancel?” Ben chewed a mouthful of fruit thoughtfully, “you, me, your bed. No need to be too quiet since Sophie’s still out,” he glanced at your roommate’s bedroom door, his eyes swinging back to you as he continued, “Or y’know, we could do a puzzle and listen to music all day, have a cat nap after lunch, whatever.” “You’re cute when you’re being all lazy,” “There would be nothing lazy about it thank you very much,” “Cat naps aren’t lazy?” “You know that’s not the part I was talking about,” “It wasn’t? Then what won’t be lazy,” you tried to hold back a giggle in the middle of your faux confusion but broke when Ben blew a raspberry at you in response.

Nothing more was said about cancelling as you finished your breakfast, though truthfully you probably wouldn’t have minded if Ben had cried off sick and rescheduled the double date. But you both decided that Sunday would be a day for just the two of you to make up for having to spend Saturday afternoon with others. Instead, you spoke of the week just passed and commented on the news still playing on the TV. When you were finished (Ben using the last corner of one of his waffles to swipe the remnant syrup from his plate) you stood and stacked the sticky dishes in your arms. Ben collected the coffee cups and a few other assorted dishes from the previous night, leading the way towards the kitchen and the dishwasher. He loaded his small collection onto the shelves before turning to grab the top plate from the pile you held. A noise of disgust rose from his throat as you held the plate out and he miscalculated the trajectory, his palm landing in a puddle of syrup and fruit juice. You were torn between laughing at his expression and taking the opportunity to toy with him a little but, always ready to tease him, your desire to see him blush won out. Trying not to smile too much, you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his palm closer so you could lick the sweet syrup from his skin. Predictably his cheeks turned pink and he pulled his lip between his teeth as you let him go with a laugh. “Bet you’re really wishing we didn’t have to go out now, huh Tiger?” Ben didn’t respond but he did react, his eyes locked on you as he swiped his fingers along the same plate and held them out in offering. Not quite sure where things were heading but very keen on finding out, you leaned forward and let your lips part slightly. He took the action for what it was, an invitation, and trailed his fingertips across your lower lip before slipping them between the two. He watched closely as you sucked his fingers deeper, using your tongue to lick up the sweet residue. There was still an element of novelty with this aspect of your partnership. Still part of you that was intensely aware that it was Ben’s fingers in your mouth. There wasn’t any hesitation though, hadn’t been since that first time when you’d both had to psych yourselves up to actually look at each other naked. But there was a part of your brain that was almost surprised when you found yourselves at the edge of a sexual situation. You suspected he was similarly discombobulated by how easy it was for you to end up there, how frequently playful teasing and friendly jokes turned into hands grasping at bed sheets and breathless moans against sweat-slick skin. He pulled his fingers free from your lips, unwilling or perhaps unable to shift his gaze away from the thin string of saliva that connected them like some kind of erotic spider web that you were both already caught in. You waited to see what he’d do next, feeling your heart race in the pregnant pause so full of potential. And then he moved. You laughed as he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you at the same moment he stepped towards the bench, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. He kissed you too, hungrily, as if it were impossible to resist. You’d looked down at him and suddenly been pulled towards each other, lips meeting with all the force and attraction of a magnetic field. Usually, he would have had a hand against the back of your head or your jaw but carrying you meant both his hands were already occupied so instead you substituted your own, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him from pulling away too far. As soon as you were safely positioned on the edge of the bench though his hands were free to fall elsewhere. One pressed against the small of your back as the other squeezed your thigh, encouraging you to keep your legs spread. Not that you could have closed them with Ben standing between them and not that the thought had even crossed your mind.

If you’d had all day Ben probably would have taken his time with you. Despite what he’d said earlier, you’d discovered Ben had a soft spot for slow and sensual intimacy. Making out that gradually built to passionate kiss-filled sex, foreplay that included soft caresses and whispered praise, anything that let him explore your body in intricate detail with his hands and lips. You’d been with guys like that before and had hated their insistence on linking hands and kissing you slowly. Those relationships never lasted long but with Ben it felt different, it felt good. Maybe it was because he knew you weren’t on board with overtly romantic acts and respected those boundaries you’d talked about so you never felt as if he were pushing you into a roll you didn’t enjoy. Or maybe he was just a better lover than they had been. Either way, it came to same result. You still preferred something less gentle and more energetic, though you felt you better understood the appeal of being held so close and kissed so tenderly. But with only a few hours before you’d have to start getting ready, Ben was inclined to speed things up a little. His hand quickly slipped up your thigh to press against your pussy, the cotton knickers you’d slept in the only thing keeping him from direct contact. You broke the kiss suddenly, the smacking sound loud in the small room, and dipped your head to press your lips to the notch between his clavicles. In response, Ben lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat to you and you took the chance to playfully nip at the junction where his neck and shoulder met. “Oi, no marks,” he said lwoly as you moved to kiss back up towards his jaw. “Afraid I’ll brand you with my initials?” “If you could legibly write your initials in hickeys I’d put up with whatever teasing the makeup ladies gave me,” “I’ll give it a crack then shall I?” Before you could so much as flick your tongue over his skin, Ben had raised a hand and placed it over your mouth to keep you from testing our your writing abilities, “Don’t think theres enough time, Sugar, but if you really want to I’ll let you try tonight, on my thigh where no one is likely to see it.” “Make it your arse and you’ve got a deal,” you said though it was a little muffled by his palm. “Fine,” he laughed, drawing his hand away, “But then I get to try it on you too,” You nodded, grinning, and then both fell into giggles, leaning against each other’s shoulders. This was what you’d hoped for when Ben had first approached you with the idea of being partners, what you’d been afraid you’d never actually find. Someone who would follow your tangential jokes even if it delayed sex. Someone you could be yourself with. You were distracted from the thought as Ben pressed his lips to your shoulder over the sleeve of your shirt. “Should I continue?” he asked, still smiling though softer, his fingertips lightly dancing over the crease of your thigh. “I’d be offended if you didn’t” “Can’t have that,” he leaned in to catch your lips once again, at the same time resuming stroking you over your panties so that you felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. It felt good but you need more and so shifted your hips, trying to press yourself harder against his fingers. To get more leverage and better brace yourself as your centre of gravity changed, you dropped a hand behind you. Intuitively, Ben shifted the hand on your back higher and closer to your side to help keep you steady, the other still drawing lines along your clothed slit. You gasped as his thumb took up residence against your clit, rubbing it firmly so a visible damp patch began to form on your panties.

Ben grinned at you as your breath came harder and dragged his thumb back down away from your clit towards the leg of your underwear. Still watching your reactions, he twisted his fingers up under the material, gently tracing them along the same path they’d just followed only now he could feel your wetness directly. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, leaning close to your ear, as he circled your entrance with a fingertip before pressing it into you, “of how I’d like to fuck you right now. It might take a little flexibility on your part though. I mean, nothing too much, just getting your legs up on my shoulders.” Curious, and more than a little distracted by the addition of a second finger inside you, you nodded, “Sounds fun.” “Knew you’d say that. Just tell me if it’s too uncomfortable,” “Will do.” You leaned forward as Ben moved back a little, taking his fingers with him, giving you enough room to drop your hand to his crotch and grasp his stiff length through his undies, “Just get on with it.” “Puddin’ was too nice a nickname for you. Sugar too.” he gasped as you dragged your palm along his length and back again. “What’s the matter, Tiger?” “Maybe I should call you Tiger, if you’re going to keep grabbing my cock like that,” You laughed and let him go, leaning back on your palm again, “Tigress? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Are you going to fuck me or not?” “No I just wanted to get my dick hard for no reason,” he said sarcastically, poking his tongue out at you as he pushed his underwear down. “You’re such a –” you broke off with a sharp gasp as Ben tugged your underwear aside and pressed into you without warning, “dork.” Ben chucked and leaned in to kiss you quickly before readjusting your position a little by pulling you closer to him so your arse was right against the edge of the bench. Slowly he rolled his hips against you, pulling back and thrusting forward again, finding a rhythm that worked. You leaned back on both palms as Ben grabbed you by the waist, the other resting on your knee to keep it pressed against his side. “This feel alright?” he asked as he gave another thrust, hitting a spot deep inside you. “Mmhmm,” you nodded, able to feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke of his cock. “What about this?” Ben shifted first one of your legs and then the other to his shoulders, encouraging you to bend them at the knee. His hands moved to your sides, fingertips digging into your back as he pressed you even closer. The effect was that you felt as if you were almost folded in half but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. There was an almost weightless feeling to it and any slight awkwardness you felt with your chest meeting your thighs was a small price to pay for just how good Ben felt once again moving inside you. You tightened your fingers against the benchtop, wishing there was something you could grab onto as your whole body rocked with each of his thrusts, the position allowing him to penetrate you deeply, continuously brushing against a number of spots that sent electric spikes of pleasure through you. “Fuck,” was about all you could think to say. “That a good fuck?” Ben questioned, voice gruff with his exertions. “Yeah, yes, fuck, so good,” “So you like when I do this?” You let out a soft moan as he roughly fucked into you again, timing it just right. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he half laughed, turning his head to kiss your leg before leaning forward to catch your lips again. After that there wasn’t much room for talking. Ben, having assured himself that you were happy, speeded up his rhythm, clutching you tightly to keep your legs from slipping off his shoulders. His breathing became rougher, matching your own, as he drove into you, though he still kissed you as much as he could, panting against your lips, swallowing your moans and pushing whatever air he had into your lungs.

You could feel your orgasm bubbling up, like a pot of water on the verge of boiling, but knew Ben would reach his first, recognising his expression as the one he wore when he was trying to hold back from the edge. “Fu-ck you’re s-so tight,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against yours, “gonna have to pull out soon,” You could feel him pulling away and tightened your calves on either side of his neck in an effort to stop him, needing just a little more to reach your own release. “Not helping,” he groaned, suddenly unable to hold off any longer, “Shit. Y/N.” You whined as he stilled to shoot his release over your walls. “Jesus,” he said a little breathlessly, as he pulled out, your underwear slipping back over you, and rubbed his neck absentmindedly, “Didn’t expect that to finish me off. Did you…?” You shook your head, letting your leg slip to be caught in the crook of Ben’s arm. “Well let’s fix that, shall we,” he said, already letting you go to bend forward, his face right between your thighs. You felt a puff of his hot breath against you as he hooked his index finger into the crotch of your knickers, pulling it aside, and then his tongue was on you, lapping up your arousal and coming to rest against your clit. He set up camp there, focusing all his attention on the small nub. You let yourself drop back so you were holding yourself up on one elbow, your other hand on the back of Ben’s head, tugging on his hair as he drew a series of moans from you. With a particularly firm suck, you felt your cunt pulse and something warm and wet ran from you, dripping over the edge of the bench onto the cupboard door. You had an idea what it was so it surprised you when Ben released your clit to lick between your lips, catching it with his tongue and spreading it along your slit. “We taste good together,” he mumbled, going in to trace the same path over again, greedily licking up the mixture. You swore under your breath, feeling yourself right on the edge of your orgasm, unspeakably turned on by Ben lapping up the load he’d just left in you. Sensing how close you were he dragged his tongue over your clit again, quickly sliding two fingers into you to help you along. You whined his name as he pushed you over the edge, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he again sucked at your clit, not stopping until he was sure it had worked. “Thank you,” you said as he straightened up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re such a dork,” he laughed as he kissed you again, tracing his tongue over yours. The man clearly wanted you lightheaded from lack of air. “Shut up,” you pushed yourself to sit up straight again, expecting Ben to step away and let you hop down from the bench. He didn’t though, instead absentmindedly toying with the leg of your underwear as his gaze fell to your lips. “Seriously?” Ben shrugged, “Eating you out made me hard again. And,” he quickly ran his fingers along the edge of the bench, collecting some of the mess you’d left there, “I think it’s only fair you should taste us too,” If he’s said it less earnestly you might have batted his hand away and laughed off the suggestion but something about his tone made you grab his wrist to pull his fingers towards your mouth. He hadn’t been wrong, the mix of you both did taste pretty good, though you’d already got a hint of it as he’d kissed you. “Good girl,” he breathed out, eyes heavy with lust, “think you’re up for more?” “Can we move elsewhere? The edge of the counter is digging into me.” “Okay,” Ben began tugging your underwear down and kicked off his own before pulling your shirt over your head, making you laugh. He Helped you stand and then immediately pushed you to the floor. For a moment you thought he was suggesting you give him a blowjob and were about to question him but half a second later he was following you down, laying down and pulling you on top. “I meant like the bed or the couch at least,” you said somewhere between incredulity and amusement. “Too far,” he grunted, bucking his hips to encourage you to mount him properly, “need you now.” You rolled your eyes as you sank down onto his dick, “Do I actually get to cum this time or…?” “Only if you move,” Ben growled as he grasped your hips and pulled you down onto him, making you cry out at the unexpectedly sudden sensation of being filled. He let you ride him for a bit, alternating between squeezing your thigh as he rubbed his thumb over your clit and cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples as he encouraged you to fuck yourself on his cock faster. You kept to the same steady pace though, intending to drag it out a little, make him wait. But it wasn’t long before he got fed up with the deliberately slow pace you’d cultivated. Without warning you found yourself on your back, Ben grasping your thighs as he kneeled over you, pulling your hips up a little so he could fuck you the way he wanted. Your voice shook as you moaned and writhed in his shadow, your own fingers dancing over your clit to keep building your orgasm. “Isn’t that better?” he said roughly, laughing a little as you nodded your agreement, “Making me wish I had cancelled our plans. Could stay in your pussy all day.” You whimpered and rubbed your clit harder. “C’mon Pumpkin, so close aren’t ya,” You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning when you finally tipped over the edge. But that didn’t stop Ben. He waited until your orgasm had subsided and then pushed your legs wide and up into the air so he could lay directly on top of you as he continued to pound you. Your voice shook as a moan was pulled from your throat and you squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself once again being drawn towards release. There was something about his weight pressing down on you, his breath against your ear. Something about how close he seemed, almost panting as his hips stuttered in and out of the rhythm he was desperately trying to hold on to. He mouthed at your neck as you tilted your head to accommodate him, reaching a hand down to squeeze his arse cheek. You were sore from every other way he’d fucked you, tired from the two orgasms he’d already wrung from you, and yet the thought of stopping him, of ending the incredible pleasure you felt at his hands, was the furthest thing from your mind. A scream caught in your throat as he seemed to press you even harder into the floor, your legs shaking in the air as he grit his teeth and grunted with each harsh drive into you. And then he came, gasping against your throat as he felt you cum too, finally releasing the scream you’d been holding onto until the noise turned to breaths so ragged they felt like sobs.

Ben kissed your throat and then your jaw as he came back to earth, still laying on you. “How was that?” he asked softly when you’d remained quiet for a while. You drew in a deep breath, “Pum-Pumpkin?” “What?” “You called me fucking Pumpkin of all things, while trying to get me off?” “So?” “Jesus Ben,” you half-heartedly swatted at his side, “you’re lucky I was so close that it didn’t matter otherwise I might have laughed and completely lost the orgasm.” Ben joined in your laughter, the sensation of his shaking body on top of yours slightly odd but mostly quite comforting. Until he shifted his hips without thinking and made you wince. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to yours again as if to kiss away the discomfort before he gingerly pulled out of you and sat back on his knees, “But you did cum that time, right?” “I think you know I did,” you sighed, already able to see what was coming, as you let your legs drop to the floor. “So wait, how many times exactly?” You sighed and shook your head slightly. “Because if my maths is right, I think we got you to three times. Once on the bench and twice on the floor. One plus two is three, yes?” “Yes that’s how basic addition works Ben,” “And who was it again that got you to three orgasms? Was it,” he pointed a finger as his one chest, “Moi?” “Alright asshole, you’re very impressive and a somewhat decent shag,” “I think you could be a little more grateful considering that performance. Might have been my best ever moves,” You pushed Ben in the middle of the chest, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but, truthfully you were inclined to agree that it had been his best performance yet, at least in your experience. “Here let me help you,” he chuckled as you tried to stand, almost falling over as your legs shook. Quickly, Ben pushed himself to his feet and then offered you a hand up too, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Thanks,” “I hope I haven’t made it too hard for you to walk. Wouldn’t want to throw off your bowling cos you were fucked so right.” “Jesus Christ,” you couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the time you had before you had to leave was spent tidying up the kitchen, cleaning up the evidence of the mornings activities in case your roommate got home before you, washing up and getting ready to go. Which is really when things started to go downhill. If you’d realised you might have told yourself to stay home, come up with a quick excuse to get out of it and just played video games with Ben for the rest of the day or something. But there was no way to know what was coming so you didn’t. You talked happily as you got into Ben’s car (which was already parked on the street), excited to see your friends and looking forward to the afternoon.

The double date itself was quite fun, although draining. There was always an element of playing pretend at these sorts of occasions. Not that you minded so much. It was either play up the romance of your relationship or have to explain what you were to everyone and a few hours of pretending Ben was your boyfriend was honestly much simpler. At least bowling was better than the cinema. The first time you’d gone on a double date to a movie you’d sat down beside Ben, the popcorn you were sharing balanced on the arm rest between you. Martin and Jill had raised their armrest and were virtually sitting on top of each other, hands entwined. Which would have been fine except Martin had leaned over and said, “you know these things move” and looked expectantly at you. Ben and you had shared a glance and then tried to say you were both fine with the space but they’d given you matching looks that said they thought you were being weird or prudish or judging their willingness to cuddle in public. So you’d relented and shifted the armrest so you could spend the next two hours sitting with Ben’s arm around your shoulders, both of you more tense about the situation than you ever would have been if you’d just been allowed to sit in your seats like normal. Things had improved a bit since then. Ben had told you that one night when you’d gone out to a bar together, Martin had pulled him aside as asked why he never kissed you properly. Ben had shrugged and said he didn’t like PDAs, that he didn’t want photos to spread or anything like that, especially since it was still so new, and Martin had accepted it. They began to see that your ways of being affectionate were quieter, stealing sips from each other’s drinks, a warm hand against a knee, dumb nicknames that made you both laugh. Even if Jill did sometimes still try to convince you that there was nothing wrong with snogging in the middle of a busy street. Nonetheless you never felt fully able to relax when it was just the four of you. Always conscious of how they saw you, always worried that they’d decide you weren’t being affectionate enough and would tell everyone else you were going through a rough patch which would lead to more scrutiny. While at the same time worrying that one of them would start asking how serious it was between you and Ben, were you thinking about the future? Could you see yourselves moving in together? Was he the one? And it took a lot of energy to constantly be alert about what you were saying, always careful to not accidentally give away the secret truth of the situation. Bowling was fun though and less pressure than other double dates you’d been on. You could get away with not holding hands or sitting on Ben’s lap since everyone was standing up frequently and it didn’t make sense to be on top of one another. You could share small pecks on the lips or else tight hugs to celebrate strikes. And Ben made sure to tease you for missed pins, just like he always had, with a few added silly nicknames. He called you his sweet little hotdog after a particularly bad gutter shot which had made you laugh so hard you choked on your drink, and made Jill give him a disapproving glance. He’d smoothed it over by letting her overhear him saying he loved you, whispering the platonically just for you.

By the time Jill had been declared the winner of the game, you were ready to head home and spend a night forwarding Ben weird videos and dumb memes. Ready to be allowed to just exist without needing to be romantically linked to anyone. But it wasn’t quite to be. Martin made the suggestion that all of you should head to McDonalds for dinner and before you knew it you were standing in line, waiting for the kid at the cash register to serve you. You leaned your head on Ben’s shoulder as you stared at the menu, and vaguely wondered how someone working in a fast food joint could be so bright and bubbly. Right up until Ben nudged you and asked what you wanted. “Um, can I get a quarter pounder and a frozen coke, thanks.” “And?” Ben supplied. “And what?” “Y/N I know you want dessert, get dessert.” “And an Oreo McFlurry,” you smiled and bumped Ben’s shoulder with yours as he laughed and finished paying. “You guy’s make a cute couple,” the girl who’d served you said, eyes following the path of Ben’s gaze to you, still smiling. She seemed to realise what she’d said, her ears turning red, but Ben thanked her and added, “I think I have to agree,” as he squeezed your hip, before moving away so Jill and Martin could order. You’d smiled at her too but it wasn’t quite genuine.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to it, people assuming you and Ben were in fact a couple. You were. One or two weeks after you’d first agreed to try out being queerplatonic partners, most of your friends had put two and two together and worked out that something was going on between you. Of course they didn’t know you were aromantic and they probably didn’t have any idea what a QPR was so they’d really added two and two and got five but you weren’t about to correct them. As you’d said to Ben, it was too much too soon to do that. Maybe if the QPR thing worked out long term, maybe then you could tell them. And besides, they weren’t exactly wrong anyway. They’d originally assumed you and Ben were just hooking up after Martin had dropped in to pick up something he’d left at Ben’s and had seen you spread out on Ben’s couch with sex hair and a rather large hickey on your neck and Ben’s sweater hanging off your shoulder. He’d asked Ben who’d just shrugged in response and said it wasn’t a big deal. You estimated it took about a minute and a half to reach everyone else. The next time you’d gone out as a group you’d felt them all watching you and Ben closely, trying to determine if Martin with bullshitting them all or not. They’d all decided it was just sex though. Until you were clearly still together a month later and they decided it had to be serious since Ben had never successfully fucked a girl for that long without catching feelings. That was when they started referring to you as boyfriend and girlfriend. That was also when the comments about how cute you were or how they’d always known you’d get together had first started. The first few times you’d heard it, it felt weird but you figured that was just because it was you and Ben and you were still working out how to be partners without the romance. You’d been in relationships before though and didn’t have any major objections to anything they said so you found it fairly easy to deal with and mostly you didn’t notice it anymore.

Except now it was bothering you. Something about the girl’s comment had rubbed you the wrong way. Which made you feel bad because she was just a kid with a shitty minimum wage job who didn’t know you from Adam. She had no idea. She was just trying to say something nice to a couple of strangers. You supposed your dislike of the comment probably had something to do with spending all afternoon putting on the romantic act for the benefit of your friends. Maybe even something about the sex from earlier. Probably just exhaustion from everything, a shorter fuse. It could even just be PMS though you’d have to check how far off your next period was to be sure. Whatever the reason it felt…not wrong exactly just off. You stayed quiet during most of the meal, aware you weren’t being great company and aware that Ben had realised something was wrong since he kept glancing at you when the other two weren’t looking. “Y/N,” Jill’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Still with us?” “Yeah,” you said, pulling a smile onto your face, “sorry, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well last night,” That statement was met by high pitched oohing noises and Martin jokily reprimanding Ben for keeping you up. You forced yourself to laugh with them, “Not like that you pervs. Ben was filming a night scene yesterday so didn’t actually get to mine until what,” you looked to Ben for confirmation, “One-thirty was it?” “Something like that. I don’t know I fell asleep almost as soon as I put my head down.” “Me, not so much,” you shrugged, “It’s all just catching up with me now.” They accepted that excuse without question and didn’t aim too many more comments in your direction, letting you finish your food without having to keep your mind on their conversation. And pretty soon you were hugging them goodbye and promising you’d organise the next date as Martin told Ben to get you home to bed before you fell asleep in your ice cream.

Ben waited until you were safely back inside your apartment before he asked if you were okay. “We were meant to get milk,” you sighed, trying to push away the annoyingly persistent discomfort. “I’ll go out later and get some. Or we can get Sophie to bring some back when she comes home. Are you okay though?” Unsure if this was a situation where you’d want space, Ben hovered at a respectful distance until you stepped in close and leaned your head against his chest. As soon as he knew you wanted him there he wrapped his arms tightly around you, “What’s wrong?” “Not sure. Think it all just got a bit much.” “How do you mean?” You shrugged as much as his embrace would allow and talked against his chest as you tried your best to explain how flat you felt, “I think the girl who served us was just like the straw that broke the camel’s back, y’know.” “Did me agreeing with her make things worse?” You shook your head, “Don’t think so. I knew you meant it in a different way to her. Besides, the other two were in earshot so there wasn’t much else you could say.” “You know that what everyone else thinks of us doesn’t change anything about what we have, right, or what we mean to each other. It doesn’t change who you are.” You didn’t mean to say it but the words had escaped before you could stop them, “Wouldn’t it be easier if it did though.” “But then you wouldn’t be you and I love you, platonically.” You smiled and nodded as you stepped back a little, though Ben’s arms wouldn’t let you go too far, “I know, thank you. And I’m fine, just having a bit of an off afternoon.” “Are you sure? Is there anything else I can do to help?” “No, you’ve been perfect.” You leaned up to give him a quick kiss, “And I know I’m being stupid about it. I knew what I was signing up for when I decided not to come out to them. Besides, being back home with you has definitely made me feel better already.” “Do you want a cuppa or anything?” “Nah, think I might just go lie down and read for bit. Decompress a little, y’know.” “Okay. Give me a shout if you want anything, yeah,” he pressed a kiss to your temple and give you an extra squeeze before he let you go.

Slowly you headed to your bedroom, kneeling down at your bookshelf and running your fingers along the spines until you found the one you wanted. That particular book had seen better days. It’s spine was cracked, the image on the cover peeling away from the cardboard underneath. More than one page had begun to fray around the edges like an ancient treasure map in a cartoon, with little triangles missing and the corners permanently creased where they’d been dog eared a hundred times. But as you settled into the bed, Ben’s pillow still smelling faintly of his hair pomade, you began to feel more yourself. Ben was right. What other people thought of your relationship didn’t matter. He was still your Ben, the same Ben who’s hoodie had been living in your cupboard for years now because he spent so much time at yours anyway it just made sense to keep a spare there. The same Ben who’d bought you your favourite pair of sunglasses when you’d left your old ones at home by accident. The same Ben who’d gradually been reading his way through your entire bookshelf rather than buying his own paperbacks. You had too much history there and too much love for each other for anyone else’s opinions to matter. And your partnership was good. It made you happy so it had to be good.

The time passed quickly as you read so when you looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw that a couple of hours had passed, you were a little taken aback. Ben poked his head round the corner and then stepped through the doorway when he saw you looked better. “Nice to see you smiling again,” he said softly as he crawled up beside you. Without thinking you lifted your arm so he could snuggle against you, his head on your chest. “What’re you reading?” “First Test by Tamora Pierce. First book in her Protector of the Small series.” “What’s it about?” “A girl training to become a knight. Gran bought it for me as a kid while we were on a holiday at the seaside.” Ben glanced at the worn pages, “Do you reread it a lot?” “Yeah a bit. The main character, Kel, is like the only aromantic character I know of so she’s kinda important to me.” “The main character’s aro?” “I mean, not explicitly. It was published in ’99 and the terminology to describe aro experiences didn’t really start being used until like the late 2000s and even then only in certain communities online. But Tamora Pierce did answer some questions on her website and said that as she was writing the series Kel became less and less interested in romance and sex so even though she didn’t have the words for it back then, she would consider Kel aro and probably ace too. And I mean, rereading them I definitely feel an aro sort of reaction to a lot of the romance stuff, even when Kel does start kissing boys and all that.” Ben leaned back to better see your face, “Will you read to me?” You leaned down to kiss him, unhurriedly, softly, letting your lips linger on his. “Is that a yes?” “That was a sorry I’ve been weird this evening kiss actually.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said simply, snuggling back down, his head once again resting on your chest and his arm thrown over your waist. You adjusted your grip on the book and began to read from where you’d left off, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair, both of you sighing softly as you relaxed into each other.

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #idk i hope its okay #also if you have any more idea for potential future chapters about these two send them my way #i like having an aro character to come back to every now and again lmao

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creativekat · 4 years ago

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PTC : part ii

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader

[ gif by @pascalsky ]

Word Count: 1,563

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: unintentional body piercing play

A/N: The response to the first part of this story was so overwhelming and we can’t thank you enough! @the-purity-pen and I are having so much fun writing this! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged on the next one! THANK YOU! Also, you can read Part One here!

It was Friday afternoon and you found yourself at the local grocery store. Often you went daily to pick up the few things you needed each night for dinner, but on Fridays you liked to shop for the whole weekend. That way you had time for any home projects and grading that you had to do. The problem was you weren’t quite sure what you were in the mood for which led to you wandering the aisles, picking things up here and there.

You had just turned into the aisle with canned fruits and vegetables and were considering getting some canned peaches to make a cobbler when you heard a familiar voice call your last name, “Hello, how are you?”

You turned to see Marcus Moreno walking toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, seeing him wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, “Did you play hooky from work today? Your secret’s safe with me, if you did.” Then tentatively you added, “And, if I’m supposed to call you Marcus, you should call me by my first name.” You gave him your name and a slight smile. You couldn’t help but notice how well his jeans fit him, not to mention how the t-shirt lovingly clung to his upper body. You suddenly became very interested in the label on a can of pineapple.

Marcus repeated your name softly as if committing it to memory. The way it rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat but you were busy occupying yourself with the can of pineapple. “No, no hooky today,” he laughed and the sound was so pleasant. It was different from the nervous man that had sat across from you to discuss his daughter.

Maybe it was the change of scenery or the fact that neither of you needed to be “on” while grocery shopping. “Missy is having a sleepover this weekend so I gotta stock up on some junk food,” he told you and shook his head. Somewhere deep in his mind he was mentally cursing himself for allowing a sleepover of five preteen girls to happen in his house. That definitely would have been better territory for his wife.

But Missy was making friends and that’s what mattered to him. He knew she felt left out of so many things whether it was because she didn’t have her own powers or because of being the leader of the Heroics’ kid. So her having friends that wanted to sleep over was a big deal. You were glad to hear that Missy was having a sleepover. You remembered going to a few when you were her age. You never hosted, but not because you didn’t want to, but because your parents wouldn’t allow it. Looking back their reasoning made sense, but at the time it had just felt like another punishment for being different.

You looked up from the pineapple label and smiled sympathetically, “You have my sympathies. What do you have planned for activities?” Keeping a group of pre-teen kids from getting bored, even in each others’ company would be important. When they got bored, they got creative. And that was when bad things happened. “I can give you some ideas if you want. I was a pre-teen girl once.” You bit your lip and looked away, slightly embarrassed at the fairly obvious statement.

His eyes scanned the aisle a bit, feeling like the conversation was going a bit stale. “Fruit in a can or fresh fruit? What’s your preference?” he asked as he leaned forward to grab a can of apple pie filling that was right next to you. As he leaned over, his voice was soft and velvety in your ear.

You glanced at the can in his hand, “For pie? Depends. Have you made pie before?” You didn’t want to make any assumptions. Just because he was a man didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled in the kitchen. You pictured him standing at the counter, mixing up some delicious concoction, biceps moving as he stirred, and your mouth watered at the image. Your cheeks burned instantly.

“Yeah but,” he paused to read over the can, trying to ignore his desire to look you over. “It’s been a few years. I’m not much of a cook,” he mumbled with a nervous chuckle before turning to put the can in his cart. He turned back and moved closer to you and you felt a spark of desire run down your spine. You swallowed hard as he reached around you again, quietly apologizing for the intrusion.

But his eyes on you made him miss which can he was aiming for. His hand swept at the empty spot on the shelf and ended up knocking off three other cans in rapid succession. “Shit!” he cursed under his breath as his hand reached out, his powers manifesting to stop the metallic can from falling.

You sucked your lip between your teeth fighting the urge to gasp or making any sounds revealing the pleasure his power had just elicited in you. Not only had his magnetic ability affected the cans on the shelf but it had pulled at the nipple piercings concealed beneath your shirt as well as the silver barbell that decorated your clitoris. Your nostrils flared with the effort to suppress the moan that nearly escaped your lips.

Marcus looked at you questioningly at your obvious stress, but you merely smiled in return, your eyes blazing with unanticipated need. When you finally found your voice, it was higher than normal, “Something tells me you know your way around. A kitchen, I mean.” Your face bloomed with heat and you finally had to turn completely away. You leaned into your cart, faking the need to rearrange the items in your cart.

Holding the caught can in his hand, he watched as you turned around towards your cart. He took a moment to straighten up at your words. “Uh, yeah a bit,” he said as he turned and put the can he had caught but not really wanted back onto the shelf. “My wife she, uh, she did most of the cooking and I know Missy misses it so I thought maybe a little cooking activity for the sleepover could be fun,” he rambled. When you didn’t turn around right away, he furrowed his brows and moved closer to you. “You okay?”

Your breast and clit still tingled from the stimulation they’d just received. But, of course, you couldn’t tell Marcus Moreno that. Taking a moment, you breathed in slowly through your nose then exhaled through your mouth. Finally you turned to face him, a smile on your face, “Oh yes, I’m fine.” After a moment of thought, your eyes brightened, “You could have them make their own personal pizzas!” Now that you were face to face again, you were reminded of just how handsome he was.

Marcus was eyeing you, trying to figure out what had you so flustered. He cleared his throat and nodded at your admission of being fine. He figured he’d have to take it for what it was. But the way you brightened actually took him by surprise. You were standing a lot closer than he realized and for a moment his breath was taken away.

His brain fog finally cleared and he nodded slowly. “Personal pizzas? You think they’d like that?” he questioned and you were more than happy to give a strong nod of an answer, trying anything to quelch the burning deep in the pit of your stomach.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking, again, about the brief moment of pleasure he’d given you. Your mind ran with the thoughts of what other things he might be able to do. Distractedly, you grabbed a couple cans from the shelf and placed them in your cart causing Marcus to smile. You glanced down at what you’ve just dropped in there and cringe “I bet you thought people only used mincemeat at the Holidays."

You looked at him, feeling like he could see right through you. After all, you were acting bizarre. He gave a small forced smile, trying to hide how confused he was at this interaction but laughed off your comment anyways. “It’s delicious,” he commented as he watched you. “Do you, uh,” his hand came to rub furiously at the back of his neck.

“Do you have any free time this afternoon? To, uh, I don’t know, help me find a recipe that would be easy for them?” his head dropped down as he asked but he pulled his hand from his neck and looked up at you with earnest puppy dog eyes. He figured since you were a teacher, you’d know what would be easy for their age group to follow as far as instructions.

Your eyes widened momentarily in surprise, but then you smiled, “Uhhh … I think so … I mean, yeah, I can clear my schedule.” You didn’t want to seem too eager to spend time with him. He was still Missy’s father. But, he was asking for help. There wasn’t any need to read too much into it. You arranged a time to show up at his place and tried not to stare as he walked away. Once he was clear of the aisle, you reached into the cart and put the disgusting can of fruit back on its shelf.

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wisteria-lodge · 4 years ago

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a burnt AND exploded Bird

so i finally managed to articulate a thing that i'm prrrretty sure points to an unhealthy snake primary model? while the concept of a snake's People, and the concentric social circles, resonates with me, it's the morality part that gets me. i don't construct my morality around my People so much as, when i'm really in the grips of it, do everything i can to convince myself their actions aren't violating my /existing/ morality.

This sounds like a... half-Burnt Idealist primary. We’re used to the dramatic, completely Burnt Idealist in fiction, where you have no personal morality, and are forced to use someone else’s to compensate. But this is like... the Castiel situation. You have a morality, but it’s not very sure of itself. It needs outside supports to justify it and prop it up. And when those supports are other people... it’s really important that those people remain morally pure.

i can explain everything away, tell myself they're really a good person and this is just a lapse in judgment, that surely everything will be fine if i can just get them to understand what they did wrong.

Oh man. So Bird. They just need to understand. I need to help them understand. They’re just missing information.

(because surely they wouldn't keep doing something wrong unless they didn't realize.) they didn't mean shitty things they very obviously said or did and i just misunderstood somehow, so on and so forth.

Burnt Bird! Burnt Bird! Gaslit bird!

part of this was, i'm sure, from issues i brought into my relationships from beforehand, but it's also been fed by heavy-duty gaslighting through multiple close relationships over the course of years.

Yeaaahh. Birds are... especially vulnerable to gaslighting.

it's given me the unfortunate yo-yo effect of being extremely suspicious and constantly on guard in close relationships, assuming the worst.

I mean, I know you know this, this isn’t some brilliant new insight, but - tell them this stuff. And if you can’t, or they respond badly, that’s not a relationship you want to put much time or energy into.

I feel /intense/ distress and repulsion whenever someone i feel like i'm under social contract to hold accountable (or not hold accountable) does something that makes me go 'UHHH.'

It is not your responsibility to hold the other person in the relationship accountable. Not over their moral choices, or health, or whatever they do with their free time. I have been the Parole Officer half of a relationship. I had the best justifications in the world. All it does is breed resentment, and make things even worse. It’s not your job. It’s not a job you’re able to do.

extra layers of Big Scream when i get even a whiff that someone might be asking me to take their side in a situation where they're actually in the wrong.

Yeah, you’re not a Snake.

maybe it's because i've had bad experiences with people going to someone else for “advice” about a conflict with me, only to misrepresent the situation/go to a yes-man, and then use the backup as both a bludgeon and an opportunity to tighten up their cover story after i'd poked holes in their previous gaslighting, but the idea of being that third party is one of the most viscerally upsetting and violating things i can think of.

You were not kidding. That is some heavy duty gaslighting. I am so sorry.

it's bad enough that, the more goodwill and commitment i have toward a relationship, the more likely i am to just. bottle things up and never tell anyone what's happening when there are problems, rather than get an outside perspective and risk being a bludgeoner myself by not giving them enough context.

Okay, wow, so your Bird is also Exploded. Birds primaries Explode when something goes wrong with the mechanism used to take in information, and that’s what’s going on here. You’re not allowing yourself to take in outside information. You’re not allowing yourself to listen to what others think about your relationships and it’s hurting you. You’re a Bird. You need that outside input to feel secure.

which means they have more opportunity to be awful and treat me like shit

Yes. Abusers isolate the mark, you know this.

(all made much worse by the fact that multiple, objective-in-hindsight gaslighters have used 'i'm one of the people you're supposed to trust, you're abusive for questioning me just because you had bad experiences with someone else :(((' on me.)

You are abusive for questioning me. Yep. That’s how you Burn a Bird.

that got a lot longer than i intended, whoops, and i have more thoughts about it, but: does this sound like a model, or just unhealthy snake? any idea what other primaries modeling snake this way might look like?

There is no Snake at all here. Sorry.

(for reference, when i say 'violations of my existing morality' i mean things like when i see them being a bully, being a hypocrite, saying or doing something bigoted, treating animals poorly, and so on, not just being a dick to me.)

Implying that they are allowed to be a dick to you, but not animals? I don’t follow.

i don't mind using subterfuge and roundabout methods to guide them to the conclusion that it was wrong if i think it'll work, in fact i would much rather be able to do that than be blunt, but unfortunately people have an easier time cognitive-dissonancing their way around snake slipperiness, and 'person continues to think their shitty behavior is fine and will probably continue acting on it' is a really upsetting result for me even without the idea that they might think they have my /approval./ so! blunt it is. i'm also aware that it's really easy for this to turn into just straight up controlling behavior and i worry about turning into a bully, but i can't just drop it because silence is complicity and AAAAAAAAA. ANYWAY i just keep going my bad ashfkshd)

Stop. Breathe. It’s okay. It’s only controlling behavior if you’re trying to control them. Expressing the way you feel about something they did is not controlling. That’s healthy. Probably someone in the past told you that you were a controlling person, but that’s a tactic. I really don’t see any risk of you being a “bludgeoner” or a “bully.”

No one is going to be perfect. Not you, not them. If they do something that bothers you, talk to them about it. Is this a one-time thing? A pattern? You’re allowed to talk to other people about it too. See if they think it’s as big a deal as you do.

If the behavior changes, great. If it doesn’t... they might not be at a place where they can change. Sometimes people just aren’t ready to learn. And then you decide, is this a dealbreaker (or not) and act accordingly.

thanks @the-moogle-of-your-nightmares for the submission

#sortinghatchats #sortme #wisteria sorts #bird primary #burnt burnt primary #exploded bird primary #burnt + exploded bird primary #gaslighting #abuse

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danganronpa-21 · 4 years ago

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Naegiri Week Day 6 - Date

I did it!! I know I’m pretty late, but hey, Eon said submissions still count so I’m still going lol (thank you for the patience). This one’s a bit on the longer side and contains switching POVs, but it’s pretty easy to follow as each first line introduces either Makoto or Kyoko by name. I’ve been agonizing over it for awhile now, so hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it. If not, at least take some pleasure in the fact that I had to edit out some of my use of the word “smile” from the original draft, for I used the word 13 separate times. This is why we draft, kids. Anyway, no warnings to issue this time around.

I’ll be back to bring you Festival sometime soon. Thanks so much for your support and attention!

______________

“I’m excited for our big night tonight, Kyoko!”

Her partner’s words echoed like a horrid earworm in her mind as she jotted down her most recent case notes. They’d been vibrating around in her head since the moment he uttered them; they plagued her all throughout the car ride to the Hope’s Peak building. Even now, while he was off dealing with a misbehaving teacher case, she could not get his statement to stop pestering her. She had to be the worst girlfriend in the world to have forgotten something so important as to be classified as “big night”. Simply imagining the disappointment on Makoto’s face if she confessed to not knowing the significance of the date made her heart drop. She was never the best at remembering anniversaries and birthdays without much of a reminder; her schedule was far too busy to help her recall every significant thing. What was peculiar about this situation was that Kyoko didn’t even have the benefit of being able to check her schedule. Normally, she marked off all of their important relationship milestones on their calendar so she wouldn’t forget… but for whatever reason, today’s date wasn’t in there. No red ink scribbling circles around sloppily scrawled words, no little star stickers that her boyfriend got her into the habit of using. Just a dotting of blue ink to tell her that she had a dentist appointment the following day. Her past self refused to even give an inkling of a hint.

Still, if there was one thing that Kyoko knew best about herself, it was that she was stubborn. A stubborn detective, at that! There was no way that she would allow herself to be bested by a simple mystery such as this. If she didn’t have any clues of her own to work with, she’d just have to start off somewhere else. Of course, what else was better to start off with than witnesses? That was how Aoi came into the picture.

Well, it would be, if she weren’t several minutes late. The tardiness was admittedly a bit strange given that she had a free period, but it wasn’t super out of character for Aoi. She tended to get so excited and ahead of herself that sometimes she would almost miss work meetings entirely. Kyoko couldn’t count the number of times on both hands that she’d come rushing in to a staff meeting over twenty minutes late. All she hoped was that she would get there sooner than Makoto would get back. To have him catch them in the middle of this discussion could be mortifying. She feared she might break his heart if she let him know that she forgot. A quick and easy bit of advice or clues from Aoi would really be ideal.

She massaged her temples with one hand and leaned over to poke her phone awake with the other. 9:03 A.M. Aoi was officially thirteen minutes late, and in all honesty, Kyoko wondered if she should start to worry. What if Makoto had intercepted her or something? Or was she perhaps the troublesome teacher he intended to deal with? The latter seemed unlikely, but she didn’t want to rule out any possibilities. Ugh, all of this would be so much easier if she knew what Makoto had been alluding to in the first place! If it hadn’t been for Aoi arriving almost as if she were on cue, Kyoko might have given into her desire to bash her head into the desk.

“Sorry I’m late, Kyoko!” The swimmer’s voice was just as chipper as ever, and her forehead just as sweaty. Did her morning jog run long or something? “I got a little caught up. You know how it is.”

Kyoko sighed, doing her best to pretend to be less disgruntled than she actually was. “Indeed, I do. Still, I should thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Aoi’s ponytail swung back and forth as she strutted to the seat across from Kyoko and plopped herself down; the manner of it all reminded her of being told to sit more lady-like by her grandfather. She tried not to scowl at the thought of him. They had been through a bit of a rough patch lately. “Of course! Anything to help one of my favourite girls.”

The taller woman laughed softly, reaching up to brush some stray hands of hair away from her face. “I am quite glad to hear you say that, Asahina-san. You see, I have something to ask you.”

Almost instantly, Aoi folded her arms across her chest. She turned her nose up at the detective jokingly. “You may not ask me anything unless you call me by first name. You know that’s okay!”

She let out a half-amused sigh and did her best not to show her pleasure on her face. “Aoi, if I ask you something, do you promise not to tell Makoto that I asked?”

Aoi’s eyes widened; her body suddenly shot forward with interest. Normally, one might have reacted with a bit of apprehension over being asked to keep a secret from their friend’s paramour, but Aoi seemed to relish it. The smile that spread across her face all but proved it. Figures. Aoi probably expected to be asked about what he was thinking of doing for their next date night or something cute like that. “Ooh! What’s going on? What do you wanna know?”

In any other situation, there would be lots Kyoko could ask. After all, Aoi was their one friend who was not only mutual, but a confidant. She wouldn’t be able to get the same information out of Yasuhiro and Toko that she could out of Aoi, and it was vice versa for Makoto. This wasn’t to say that she begged Aoi to regularly break Makoto’s trust, or that he did anything of that sort to her – it was just that the swimmer could tend to point either of them in the right direction. When Makoto struggled to ask Kyoko for a birthday present, he would tell Aoi and eventually she would tell Kyoko what he wanted. When Kyoko was too embarrassed to confess to her feelings to Makoto’s face, she would tell Aoi and she would encourage Makoto to move in the right direction to get her to open up. It definitely wasn’t a system of broken trust, but a little one that worked for them and kept things moving to their advantage. They could function without Aoi if they wanted to, but she enjoyed helping them along. She was perhaps the person most invested in their relationship apart from themselves… and maybe Komaru.

Kyoko drummed her fingers on the desk absent-mindedly; somehow she found she would rather watch herself move than make eye contact with her friend. It must have something to do with her embarrassment over the whole not knowing the day thing, she assumed. “Aoi… do you know why today is significant in mine and Makoto’s relationship?”

Aoi blinked, pressing a finger to her lower lip. “Ummm… no. Why is it significant? Did I miss something?”

“It is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking. Makoto asked me if I was excited for our special night this morning, and I haven’t the faintest idea what he meant.”

“Oh! Uhhh…” the cogs in her mind seemed to turn slowly; her gaze darting around the room as if she would somehow find the answer there. It was such an artificial-looking thinking process, yet Kyoko found herself holding her breath as she awaited a response. “I… I dunno. He didn’t mention anything to me about tonight being special.”

Kyoko let out a groan, throwing her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?! He’s expecting a perfect night, and I don’t have anything planned.”

“Maybe… um…” she paused for but a second, “Throw on some lingerie and hope for the best?”

The detective scowled at her. “Very funny. You know he and I aren’t… physically intimate.”

“Aww, c’mon Kyoko-chan, don’t feel bad,” Aoi said, her arm darting across the desk to pry at Kyoko’s wrist, “I’m sure there’s gotta be someone who knows what Makoto’s all excited about.”

“What if there isn’t? The last thing I want to do is hurt Makoto’s feelings. I cannot afford to make such a careless mistake.”

“Well how do you know that it was you who made the mistake? Maybe he forgot what day it is, not you!”

Somehow, that didn’t lift Kyoko’s spirits. Mostly because of how improbable it sounded. While Makoto tended to forget more trivial matters like whose turn it was to do the dishes, he never forgot important dates. Especially not when it came to their relationship. Based on what Aoi told her, he bought most of his anniversary and birthday gifts for her over three weeks in advance. Preparedness when it came to their relationship seemed to be his strong suit, quite unlike her. Without anything to show for the upcoming night, she would look like a selfish girlfriend.

“While I respect that you are trying to cheer me up, Asahina-san, I seriously doubt that that’s the case. You know just as well as I do how diligent he is when it comes to our relationship,” her fingers somehow worked their way back to her temples, massaging them almost aggressively, “If anyone has forgotten anything, it is most certainly me.”

Aoi’s eyes glittered with sympathy as she watched her friend, still trying to hold her arm. Kyoko imagined that she was mostly trying to pat her forearm, but had somehow settled for gripping her awkwardly. It was less comforting and more like she’d been caught in a trap; nevertheless, she decided to appreciate the sentiment behind it. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself, Kyoko-chan. Naegi-kun wouldn’t want you to do that, even if you forgot. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s super sweet like that!”

That is true, Kyoko thought to herself. If anything, Makoto would find it within himself to understand her perspective. Work had been incredibly busy for both of them lately, and they did have a lot of other friendship and familial obligations to attend to… Would it truly be so awful for her to have forgotten one measly little date? She couldn’t have the answer to that question. Nobody could. There were only so many circumstances in which that things could work out for her, and it all depended on how much value the date held. If it was something huge, like an anniversary, she would never forgive herself – even if Makoto did. However, should it have been something small, she figured that they would be able to brush it off and at least try to have a good time. Value determined everything, and of course it was on the list of things she didn’t know. All she had as a clue was that the date was special somehow.

“I appreciate the optimism, but I just don’t think I can go through the rest of today without knowing what’s going on.” She sighed, doing her best to avoid pouting like a spoiled child. While there were several things that she would confess to hating, not knowing important things hung at the top. Probably somewhere around number two on her list of hated things, coming just below coriander. Blegh. “Is there anything else I can do to figure this out?”

Aoi shrugged, still wearing that same signature smile of hers. “Why not try asking some of the others? Komaru-chan should be in helping Fukawa-san, maybe you could ask her for help. She’s his little sister, after all!” The swimmer tapped her chin. “I guess you could try Togami-kun, too, but I don’t know how nice he would be about it. I know you guys kind of like to rib each other.”

‘Like to rib each other’ was a sugar coating of the truth, but Kyoko supposed it encapsulated their relationship nonetheless. Byakuya was admittedly the last person she wanted to go to for help with this Makoto situation, yet the difficulty of it all gave her little choice in the matter. In fact, she considered it to be completely unavoidable.

“I suppose you’re right there. I’ll see about talking to Komaru-chan about it first. If that fails,” one of her hands curled into a fist, “I will bite the bullet and confront Byakuya.”

Aoi giggled softly, finally releasing Kyoko’s arm and hopping to her feet. “That’s the spirit! Now, was that all you needed, Boss?”

For her friend’s sake, Kyoko did her best to grin a little. Though she herself hadn’t been able to help, Aoi provided her own information that would make this anxiety-inducing task much easier. Kyoko surely owed her for that. “Yes. Sorry to call you into my office for so little, but I was getting restless. Is there any way I can compensate you for your troubles?”

Aoi waved it off. “Don’t be silly, Kyoko-chan! We’re friends, I’m here to help you any time you need it,” amusement tugged at her lips, “That being said, though… if you have to compensate me… mind buying me a donut on your next coffee run?”

Kyoko shook her head, trying not to show how much Aoi’s request made her laugh. Of course she’d ask for a donut. “That is… doable, yes. I presume you want the Boston Kreme again?”

The swimmer’s face lit up with glee, her hands clapping together excitedly. “Oh god, please. I haven’t had one in soooo long. They’re so yummy.”

Kyoko could agree with that statement. It hadn’t been until her time in Hope’s Peak that she first tried a Boston Kreme donut, but she found it to be quite a hit on her tastebuds. Definitely on her list of favourites, and Aoi’s too. The girl once joked that that was how she knew that they would be good friends. “Sounds good to me. You are dismissed, Aoi-chan. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, Kyoko-chan! You too!”

With that, the swimmer spun on her heel and wandered towards the door, sending herself off with a wave to her friend before closing the door behind her. God, what relief Aoi’s presence had been. Of course, Kyoko could only notice it now that she had left. Stress settled back into her the moment she departed, bearing down on her like a blue whale. Though she knew she still had the hope of Komaru and Byakuya’s assistance, doubt sprouted in her heart. What if they couldn’t help her? Oh, what would she do?

She squeezed her eyes shut. The absolute last thing she wanted to think about the way Makoto would look when she eventually confessed to being clueless. His normally chipper expression would still remain on his face, but she would see it falter. The corners of his mouth would twitch down for a split second, the joy weakening without actually ever having to disappear. His shoulders would slump, and he would move to push a hand through his hair to make things seem more casual. He would want to show her that he was more relaxed about it than he actually was. She would be able to see the hurt cloud his eyes.

Ugh. She didn’t want to think about that. Stealing one last long look at her paperwork, she sighed and pushed herself to her feet. If she was going to avoid the terrible, horrible fate of disappointing her boyfriend, she had better get a move on in talking to Komaru and Byakuya. The guidance committee’s not-as-problematic-as-stated student situation would have to wait.

__________

Makoto would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his fiancée.

He hadn’t been, when he’d woken up this morning. In fact, he’d been pretty excited to spend the day with her. The two of them planned this day for ages. From the blankets they would snuggle up with to the snacks they would eat, the couple made sure everything had its place. Makoto even promised her he’d make his famous popcorn-chocolate-marshmallow bars. It was tradition for their Dead Trial marathons, after all. Kyoko tended to say that it wouldn’t have felt like a proper marathon without them. Good snacks and cozy blankets were the best thing for a day inside watching their favourite show. All they had to do was get through their long day of work. That was how it seemed at the time, anyway. Now, Makoto didn’t feel so sure.

Kyoko’s morning demeanour changed within an instant; the moment he made mention of the day caught her in a loop of seeming unease. Her expression crumpled, falling back into its neutrality. How funny, so many years ago he would never have seen her iron mask as a sign of worry. Just a sign of Kyoko being Kyoko. These days, though, he knew better than to think that. Any emotion she gave him would be better than the cold, hard stare. The mask hid fear, the face showed affection.

His fingers tapped on the surface of the window ledge; eyes fixed intently on the world outside. He could see two students, both girls, hanging out around the fountain on what he presumed to be a date. One with black hair and the other with brown, grinning and giggling together. The dark-haired girl was trying to feed the other a spicy tuna roll, but it dropped from her chopsticks and bounced into the fountain. Her date threw her head back laughing at how clumsy the dark-haired girl was, forcing her face to turn rose-red. At any other time, he was sure he would have felt happy for them. Even if they were skipping class to have quality time, sometimes good romance was worth that kind of thing.

He couldn’t deny that the sight of the girls made him think of Kyoko. At the end of everything, he hoped that the two of them would have a night like those two students were having. His heart ached at the image of the two of them sitting there, a foot apart and not touching at all. No blankets draped over them, no snacks placed in their laps, no emotion as they tried to enjoy their show. He would reach for his partner’s hand but she would scarcely respond, just staring almost blankly at the screen in front of her. Her leg would be bouncing up and down like a basketball, but when he asked, she would deny being nervous. It would be a torturous, awful night; neither of them would enjoy it the way they thought they would. Then, the two of them would creep off to bed, and she would sleep with her back turned to him. She wouldn’t even try to cuddle up in his arms like she usually did.

His gaze flicked down to his watch. 11:49, it read. His little sister was running late. She had sent him a text asking to meet him outside of classroom 8-B, and somehow had not made a point of being there on time herself. He didn’t think it was too much to expect, given that she had been the one to ask that they meet in the first place. In some sense, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was quite like Komaru to be flaky. Makoto loved his younger sister, he really did, but sometimes the girl was just trouble.

He let out a sigh as he watched the girls pluck the roll out of the fountain’s water, the sunlight beaming brightly on their smiling faces. He leaned on his hand, silently wishing he could be as carefree as they were. The headmaster was leagues away from being a high schooler, but when relationship communication issues like this happened, he felt like he was right back in it again. At the end of the day, he just hoped nothing was seriously wrong with Kyoko. He hated to think that something might be wrong, and she just hadn’t had the courage to tell him.

“Hey! Makoto!”

Finally. Komaru’s voice snapped him out of his worries as he turned his head to look at her coming down the hall. She held a stack of paper in her arms, and her hands were brutally smudged with ink. A pair of glasses rested on her nose. Figures. She asked him to meet her, and then got caught up in drawing her manga. That was so like her. Still, he pushed down his annoyance, cracking a small smile as he made eye contact with his baby sister.

“Hey, Komaru,” he greeted, his hands resting on his hips, “I see you’re running late, as always.”

Komaru’s tongue found its way out of her mouth before her words did. “I see you’re still a jerk, as always,” she huffed, quickly putting her flustered run into a full stop, “Thank you for coming, though.”

“You’re more than welcome. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Komaru’s fingers reached up to scratch at her cheek, the smile playing at her lips turning sheepish. Whatever she would say next, he knew he probably would not like it. It was all a sign that Komaru had either already made or intended to make trouble. Trouble that he would likely have to clean up, he might add.

“Okay, so like… I know you’ve told me before that you really don’t want me to meddle in your relationship with Kyoko-”

Makoto closed his eyes, the tips of his fingers digging in to his hips in an attempt to quell his frustration. “I don’t, and I really hope you’re about to tell me that you haven’t.”

The smile grew even more sheepish, prompting Makoto to groan. His palm hit his forehead before he even thought to make the motion himself. Why did she have to do this to him? Why couldn’t she just pretend to vomit every time they kissed, like a normal younger sister?

“Okay so like… I didn’t totally ruin anything or tell her anything bad, but she did come to me asking for advice on something,” Komaru confessed, shrugging her shoulders, “And I thought you should know that she’s worried about something.”

“Do you know what it is?” He asked immediately, his eyes widening a bit. God, he hoped she came to tell him what Kyoko was worried about. It would make things so much easier for them. After all, if Kyoko wouldn’t tell him why she was acting weird, and he didn’t know, then Komaru would be the only bridge between the two of them. It wasn’t like Aoi had had anything to say when he’d initially asked her. He was running out of options.

Komaru tittered awkwardly, clutching her inked papers a little more tightly. One could only hope that the ink was not fresh, lest it stain her suit jacket. It was pressed far too close to her body. “You see, about that, I do, but-”

He blinked quickly, taking a few steps forward. Whatever it was, he needed to know, and he needed to know it well. “What is it?”

She actually cringed as she spoke, wincing like she thought that her brother was going to smack her. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

He hit the window ledge with his hand, wincing as pain shot through it. Maybe not the best idea, but dammit, he was pissed off. How could she give him a flicker of hope, only to take it away a minute later? That was just too cruel. “Ugh! Why would you say anything if you knew I wasn’t supposed to know?”

“I came to give you a hint to point you in the right direction,” she whined, stomping her foot like it was their mother scolding her rather than him, “She said I can’t tell you, but I figured you had a right to know.”

He swallowed thickly, the crease between his brows suddenly feeling as deep as a chasm. His body fell strangely still as he waited for Komaru’s eventual reveal. Though she couldn’t tell him much, there had to be something more to this. Surely, he could ask just a few more questions. “Is it something bad?”

“Well, uh… hard to say. It’s nothing really bad, but it might hurt your feelings a bit.”

To no one’s surprise, that comment did little to soothe his persisting anxieties. If anything, it planted a seed of dread in his stomach. Not only was his partner clearly hiding something from him, she was now confirmed to be hiding something that would hurt his feelings if he knew. He bit his lip.

“How badly, do you think?” His voice left so much weaker than usual; the ache of what Kyoko hid from him this morning digging into his soul. If he thought his palms were sweaty before, they had gained some wetness now. “Like, do you think she’s gonna dump me?”

Komaru shook her head frantically. “Definitely not. In fact, part of the reason why she’s upset is because she likes you so much. That’s the way it seemed, anyway.”

Makoto sighed, his hand reaching to fidget with his watch. “Are you sure you can’t just tell me what it is and I’ll pretend to be surprised if she brings it up?”

“Sorry, big bro. No can do. We both know you’re an awful actor.” A twinge of a smirk pricked her face. “Still, try not to worry too much. I think you’ll be able to get it out of her eventually, she’s just… worried about it, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get too in over your head if you could avoid it.”

“I appreciate that, Komaru. Thank you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you needed to tell me?”

“Just that you’re a nerd.”

“Oh, come on! What are you, eleven?”

“Yeah, an eleven out of ten!” She exclaimed with a snort, incredibly pleased with what was at best a mediocre joke.

Makoto rolled his eyes at his little sister. “It’s like you never left middle school.”

__________

Kyoko wanted nothing more than to repeatedly slam her head into a wall. Step one of her plan, gathering witnesses, had proven itself to be a total bust. Not only had she completely missed with Komaru, who had no idea what she was talking about — but she’d been screwed over with Byakuya, too. He had given her no clear answers about the date, and the jerk actually laughed at her when she confessed to not knowing the significance. Clearly, he wanted to take it as some victory to hold over her head. Proof of his superiority to her or something like that. She honestly didn’t know, and could not bring herself to care. She’d left his office in more than a bit of a huff, plunking herself down in her own chair much too harshly when she finally got back to her own space. It left her with a deep hole of disappointment in her stomach; one that she suppressed all afternoon as she plunged back into her paperwork. She stayed that way until lunchtime, the pit only serving to worsen when her boyfriend wandered in.

“Come on, honey, you really should break for lunch,” Makoto said, shooting her that same smile that won the heart of anyone who saw it, “You’ve been at that work all day.”

Her head flicked up from the boring scribblings of ink, eyes wide with surprise. Sure, she’d half-noticed that he entered the room, but hearing him was a completely different thing. Normally his voice and presence comforted her; it took weight off her shoulders on hard days. Today, on the other hand, made hearing it seem like she was getting smacked in the face with a tennis racket — vaguely painful and incredibly startling.

“Oh,” she paused, blinking at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real, “That time already, huh?”

The luckster nodded cheerfully, glancing down at the two sleek black boxes he held in his arms. They were stacked one on top of the other, one marked with her initials and the other with his. Same as always, made as sweetly as always. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to be the perfect partner? It would certainly make her mess-ups a little easier to deal with if he would just screw up every once in a while. If he could just screw up majorly on something for once, it would be helpful.

“Yup! Can’t say I blame you for forgetting, though. You almost forgot your lunch at home. Pretty hard to remember to eat without your food, y’know?”

Yes, her forgetting made sense. After Makoto brought up the big night, she lost all focus. From then on, all energy went into agonizing over what she’d been unable to recall. She must have left her bento sitting right on the counter, where he always put it after finishing the preparations.

Kyoko smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess it must have slipped my mind, with our big night and all,” it was a ploy for hints, and she wondered if it would work, “I was reviewing our plans so much that I didn’t even think about grabbing it.”

To this, Makoto laughed. “Ever diligent, as always. I hadn’t realized that you had so many plans for it! Actually, that reminds me of something.”

��Oh?” Kyoko feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. “What is it?”

“I was thinking that it might be a good idea to head to the store after work to pick up some stuff for tonight.”

“What kind of stuff?” She asked, knowing that the question would give her a little more without entirely selling her out to him. Minute by minute, she inched closer to figuring this out, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Relief would wash over her in no time, if he would just be a good witness and comply.

“You know, the usual for the night.” He answered with a shrug, pulling his phone out of his pocket. She could only presume that he was verifying his list. Oh, how she longed to snatch the phone out of his hands and read it all for herself. It was almost as if he was deliberately being cryptic. Her boyfriend was a wiggly salamander trying to slip out of her grasp. “I was thinking about picking up some ice cream for dessert, but I don’t know what flavour I should get.”

Aha! A clue! A cryptic one, but still, it was a clue nevertheless. She fought off the urge to scribble it down on the precious paperwork she’d been buried in only a moment prior. A good detective should be able to commit such a fact to memory with ease, her grandfather told her once. Though she hated thinking about him, she supposed that he was right, especially considering the person she was interrogating was standing right in front of her.

“I’m sure that I could help you with that,” she giggled, giddy from having found a small clue, “I promise not to get stuck between black cherry and pralines and cream like I did last time.”

Makoto shook his head, grinning over the memory. The two of them must have spent an half an hour in that grocery store, bouncing between the pros and cons of each flavour. They had only been intending to pick it up for a simple treat night, yet Kyoko found herself paralyzed by indecision. The two of them had had such a horribly long day at that point, and she’d just wanted to settle down with the perfect ice cream. God, she would kill to have a night like that again. If she ever figured out what their plans were for their special night, she didn’t know if she could enjoy them. After all, she’d expended so much energy on figuring out what the plans would be that she might run out of energy before they even got there.

“I think you probably could, yeah. I’ll meet you here after school; is three-thirtyish okay?”

She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Now that that’s settled, though… wanna go have a picnic in the Garden of Statues?”

That had been where they left it in the office that day, a spark of hope bursting in Kyoko’s chest. Though she hadn’t been able to solve her boyfriend’s surprisingly difficult riddle right then, she was confident that she would be hot on its trail soon. She spent most of the rest of the day scribbling away at her paperwork until he came to meet her at three thirty-two. The couple were a pair of beaming faces, the two of them wandering into the nearest pharmacy/retail store in search of whatever goodies Makoto had on his list. Not that Kyoko knew what they were. In all honesty, she was a little surprised that that was even the place he wanted to go. Still, she appreciated the tip-off that it was not the most formal evening the two of them had ever had. Every hint was one she grabbed at with fervour. At this point, she needed every one she could get. The sand in the hourglass was running low.

Even with the confirmation of the lack of formality, everything he had put in their box didn’t make sense. Salted caramel popcorn, shampoo, sponges, marshmallows, hand soap, tortilla chips, razor blades, hiyoko cakes, headache pills, chocolate, medicinal tea blends, calbee shrimp snacks, pretzels, wasabi peas, tissues… None of these things made any sense together. Separate the snacks from the household items and then maybe one could get something, but Makoto stated specifically that he was buying for their evening. Kyoko pressed her lips together, wondering whether he was just feeling snackish or if he genuinely needed these things. Part of her itched to ask him, but she worried that even that might blow her cover. Instead, she chose to quietly follow behind him, watching him continue to pluck things off the shelves.

“Is there anything you want apart from the ice cream, Kiri?” Makoto questioned, not meeting her gaze as his hands found a bag of pizza potato chips. Her tongue stuck out at the thought of them. They were his favourite flavour of chips, but she couldn’t stand them. Of course, it didn’t bother him any. He didn’t have to share. “You can have whatever you want. Sky’s the limit tonight!”

She forced herself to grin half-heartedly; the muscles in her face protested from the extra effort it took. She hoped he didn’t notice her picking at the studs of her gloves like they were a scab she could remove. “I don’t think there’s anything else I want. You go ahead and pick out whatever you would like.”

It was only then that he twisted his head to look back at her, one eyebrow raised. Uh-oh, she thought. Must have awoken suspicion in him. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Positive. Go right on ahead.”

A frown carved its way into his expression. For a moment he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, and then closed it just as promptly. He turned back towards their box and rearranged a few things as if nothing was wrong. That alone was enough to make her heart beat faster, and her breathing grow heavy. With how things were progressing, she risked actually managing to tear the silver studs from her gloves.

The silence persisted between the two of them for about a minute or so after Makoto rearranged their items; they wandered down a few more aisles before finally stopping in front of the frozen foods. Shivers shot through Kyoko as they walked. Unfortunately, her pencil skirt left her legs susceptible to the frigid air exuding off the freezers. She pushed herself up against him without thinking, hoping the proximity would allow her to thieve some of his warmth.

“Feeling a little chilly, Kyoko?” He snickered.

She nuzzled his shoulder. “It’s cold here.”

He smirked slightly, pressing an awkward kiss to the side of her head. “I know, it is pretty cold. We should be out of here soon enough, though. Just as soon as you decide what ice cream you want…!”

She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead.

“You promised you’d help me pick.”

The detective only grumbled in response, stopping to turn to look at her options through the glass door. Her eyes scanned the shelves for anything that grabbed her, not taking notice of the way her partner was watching her as she worked. Her lips pursed as she searched, wondering if any of them were going to jump out at her. Bubblegum, vanilla, strawberry, coconut almond, triple chocolate, green tea, lemon custard…

“Kyoko, are you okay?”

____________________________

Okay, Makoto gulped to himself. The million-dollar question is out.

She turned to look at him, her brows knitted in confusion at the question. Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing his face, drinking in every last detail. How funny it was that the two of them were spending so much time observing each other to excessive degrees. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting weird since this morning,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s like you’ve been on and off perfectly normal, and then really frustrated. Some of the others noticed it at work today, too. Komaru was pretty worried about you. She said you asked to talk to her about something and seemed flustered. Said she couldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but that you were worried about hurting my feelings. Is something going on?”

His partner cursed under her breath, and for a second he thought he’d heard his little sister’s name thrown somewhere in there. She began to nibble on her lip anxiously, her gaze darting away from him. He probably shouldn’t have brought up that he spoke to Komaru at all.

“Did I do something, Kyoko?”

A balloon of pressure built inside of him as he stood there waiting for her response. His heartbeat danced in his throat. Whatever was wrong with his girlfriend, he was sure that they could manage to get through it, but only if they communicated. Otherwise, they risked never being able to find the right pieces to reach their happiness. Then where would they be?

“It’s…”

“It’s…?” He parroted, reaching out to grab her hand. She moved it away from him almost like she was flinching, sending a pang of sadness through his heart. He really hoped this wasn’t going where Komaru said it wouldn’t.

“It’s not something you did, Makoto, I just…”

His hand moved to rest on her arm, at the very least. Though he didn’t feel he had the energy within him to do so, he cracked a small grin. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re a team. We’ve got to work through this stuff together, you know?”

Kyoko’s cheeks burned like brand-new Christmas lights, her gaze still fixated anywhere else but his face. Her words seemed to catch in her throat as she uttered them, somehow too embarrassed to speak her mind. “Do you promise me that you won’t be upset if I tell you the truth?”

Oh no. Fear settled into him faster than he thought possible. She wasn’t going to confess to having done something totally wild, was she? She hadn’t grown bored of him, or decided she’d be happier with a smarter, better-looking man? He didn’t think crushing his heart in public was anywhere within her character, but she’d surprised him before. Sweat dewed on his palms; he wiped it off on his work pants as best he could. “Uh… I’d like to think I could do that for you, yeah,” he replied, cringing at his anxiety showing in his voice, “So long as you didn’t like… I don’t know, plan to murder me and then decide last minute you didn’t want to go through with it.”

It was a bit of a joke, but neither of them laughed. Not that it mattered. He got the feeling that the two of them just wanted her to spit out her confession already.

“It’s nothing like that, I just…” Kyoko’s hands curled into her fists, her eyes squeezing themselves shut. “Makoto, you were saying this morning that today is such a special day, and that you were really excited about what was going to happen… but I don’t remember why today is important.”

The murmuring of “oh” came out of his mouth before he could process it, blinking slowly as the cogs turned in his mind. So his girlfriend wasn’t mad at him, nor was she leaving him for a superior specimen? She was just… feeling ashamed because of a mistake? Because she hadn’t remembered why the day was important? She crossed her arms over herself for protection, not realizing that a relieved laugh brewed in his chest. Oh, how he’d worried over nothing! He found himself grinning within seconds. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed another kiss against her forehead.

“Oh, Kyoko. Have you been beating yourself up about this all day?”

“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

He laughed and shook his head, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. “No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am. I completely forgot everything that’s supposed to be important about today, and I tried to ask Aoi, Komaru, and Togami-kun to get them to tell me, but they didn’t know either. I thought maybe by coming here with you and seeing what you were buying would give me some clues as to what our plans are, but I’m just more confused. Half of these are snacks, and the other half are just random items,” she reached into the box and pulled out a container of shampoo, “Seriously. What does this have to do with tonight?”

He chuckled awkwardly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. We just needed more shampoo. Same thing with the hand soap and sponges and all that. Picking up the snacks was the main goal. I’m going to make those caramel popcorn bars for us to eat, and it’s been awhile since we had hiyoko cakes, and you asked me for nachos when we first planned tonight…”

“But you only ever make the popcorn bars when we have Dead Trial marathons...” She muttered, her eyes suddenly lighting up like she’d struck a match. To his surprise, she actually gasped, taking hold of his arm. They must have looked so silly, grasping onto each other like that. “The new season gets uploaded to Flickies tonight, doesn’t it?! Is that why today is special?”

Finally, he let himself have a full, hearty laugh. “Yeah! Since you’ve been so busy lately, I figured you must have been holding out for it and doing all that work to make sure you could enjoy yourself once it got uploaded. I didn’t realize you’d forgotten about it entirely.”

“So I’m not a terrible girlfriend?”

“Far from it! Just a girlfriend who worked so hard that she forgot about a special TV bingeing night.”

She exhaled with relief, her hand hitting her chest. “I’m so glad.”

“You must have been really worried, huh?”

“Of course I was,” she murmured, rubbing his arm in what he assumed was supposed to be some form of affection, “I was certain that I would be hurting your feelings by forgetting, and I’m sure you know that that is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

“Yeah, I know. Still, Kyoko, I promise I wouldn’t be mad at you if you really had forgotten something important. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind most of the time, and you’re only human. Anybody’s bound to forget stuff. It’s just how people work.”

She blinked softly at him, staring up at him with the most loving gaze that he’d ever received from him. It was as if he could see the stars in her eyes. “Really?”

“Of course,” he assured her, “I don’t need you to remember every little thing to know you love me.”

She sighed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Makoto’s heart began to beat faster as she pressed her face into his shoulder, snuggling in close. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in her sweet smell, enjoying the cherry blossom-scent. “You’re too nice to me, Makoto, you know that?”

“Well, you deserve it.” He murmured, holding her as tightly as he could manage. It felt so good to be in her arms.

Kyoko snickered. “You’re such a flatterer.”

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