#did a pretty imperfect job of preparing them for this. and i should just take responsibility for that and not be defensive. but it’s like…

[pepprs]

hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol

[wutheringmights]

Can I be greedy and ask for all of the boys ? And any characters you have strong opinions on? Pretty please? With lots of cherries and chocolate on top? ( for the ask meme ofc)

Anon, I'll finish up all of the boys in the Chain just for you. And trust me, I have an Infinite Amount of Strong Opinions. You have no idea how Opinionated I Am.

If anyone is coming in late to this, here are the boys I have done already and a short summary of my thoughts (click the hyperlinks to get the full Opinion):

Warriors: he's best when he's the trashy anti-Link, and I like him so much

Twilight: kind of boring, but I have a soft spot for him anyway because you never forget your first

Wind: should have been aged up a little so that he can have that identity crisis I'm craving

This... gets long. Really long. 3-hours-of-work-long. Before you read, please note that even when I speak negatively about something, it’s not to diss anyone who does like the thing. I’m not vague posting or being passive aggressive. This is all written in good humor and good faith. 

That being said, let’s a-go!

-Sky-

What I love about them: He has one of the best character arcs of all the Links. I love that he starts off being lazy and kind of a jerk, but grows as a person because he wants to save his friend. And I love that he's truly the most courageous Link. He has no other successful hero of past or legacy to lean back upon to reassure him. He walked into that fight with Demise with no assurance from anyone that he would succeed. Yet, he does it anyway. Because he's a true hero and someone had to be one. And he's rewarded with a curse that he does not initially take seriously. He thinks he's saved everyone, yet he's cursed his spirit, possibly his bloodline, and his entire legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule into a doomed cycle of destruction. All because he dared to face evil incarnate. I love him.

What I hate about them: You know how I called Twilight boring? I should have saved that critique for Sky. LU Sky is actually the most boring interpretation of his character. All of his negative traits? Gone. All of his positives? Also gone. He's the blandest version of himself, and like Twilight, I now feel like I gotta add some spice to him to make him more interesting while still keeping him recognizable. Even so, he's still one of my favorite Links.

Favorite Moment/Quote: When he kicks Twilight's ass at sword fighting. That's stuff is *chef's kiss*

What I would like to see more focus on: You would think that there would be more angst out there about him realizing that he's actually been cursed, but it's still kind of hard to find. He's the Cursed Knight! The beginning of a terrible legacy! Imagine meeting a bunch of heroes for the first time, and instead of being relieved at having someone who understands your experiences, you're filled with horror at realizing that your victory was a false one. You didn't win. Your spirit will never be at rest. Imagine dealing with that realization for the rest of your life. You could never be at peace.

What I would like to see less focus on: I love that he loves his wife, but he's more just the fact that he's married, y'know? I would like to see a little less blind devotion to Hylia and Zelda, and more complicated feelings about being manipulated into being the hero.

Favorite pairing with: Sun/Link/Groose OT3! I have no reasoning behind this other than I like Groose and Groose definitely had a crush on SkSw Link.

Favorite friendship: I won't answer Groose again even if I want to, so I'll say Warriors. I cannot begin to describe how elite this friendship would be if you gave it a chance. They're just two boys dealing with unique positions of leadership and responsibility. They would probably even bond over being shitheads at different ends of the shithead spectrum. It's so good, okay?

NOTP: Ghirahim. I'm not too adverse to this one, but the ship hinges on whether you can redeem Ghirahim or not. In my opinion, Ghirahim is awesome because he's such a fun villain. Redeeming him ruins the fun.

Favorite headcanon: I have a whole life story planned out for Sky. Basically, he lives to be close to 500 years old by the power of the Triforce. He is the Link throughout the Era of Chaos who banishes the Dark Interlopers to the Twilight Realm and seals the Triforce in the Sacred Realm. He actually seals himself in the Sacred Realm as well to keep the Triforce safe, and he fought Ganondorf in when he broke in. Sky, like Time and Wind, does not get a happy ending.

-Four-

What I love about them: Four is origin of the heroes of Hyrule being known for being children. What a legacy to leave behind. He's such an interesting case of an incarnation of the Hero's Spirit, too. He fought Vaati, and he did his job so well that Demise's next incarnation had to be Ganondorf. Four did his job the best out of everyone, and it came at the cost of creating a magic sword that changed him permanently. I like to think that the Four Sword was not meant to split him, that it was a mistake he made with the design. And it's sad, isn't it? You made a defective sword, and like any good sword, it has a symbolic double edge. It gifted you with so much, and yet he can never be the same again. And his story is never well-remembered because it is overshadowed by the Links who fought the King of Evil. He's does so much, yet his legacy is underappreciated.

What I hate about them: I want to prepare you for this Opinion, because I know it's unpopular. Are you ready? Okay. I don't like the Colors. I'm sorry. I want to like them, but they don't interest me at all. Because they are parts of Four’s personality, they have to be one-note archetypes which does not make for exciting storytelling. I also haven't found a fic yet that has been from Four's POV that did the internal monologue of the Colors in a way that wasn't a pain in the ass to read. Maybe if someone can figure out how to do the Colors in a way that doesn't feel like a drag, I would like them more. But in the end, I think Four himself is more interesting than the Colors.

Favorite Moment/Quote: The fact that he didn't want to touch the Master Sword because he doesn't trust magic swords. That is every I need to know about his opinion on his own adventures.

What I would like to see more focus on: I want more of Four as Four. It's getting harder to find content of Four being his own person first and the Colors second.

What I would like to see less focus on: Four being the Colors first and his own person second. There is something about viewing Four as this cover identity for the Colors that doesn't feel right. There's a balance that needs to be strike between his ability to split, how that affects his every day life, and his own identity of being Four. I think I may have read one fic that hit that sweet spot for me, but still.

Favorite pairing with: Shadow. I'm such a sucker for befriending and falling for the enemy. That is all.

Favorite friendship: Dot! Their friendship is super cute. I like the idea of them being super close when they were younger and struggling to keep the friendship going as they age due to how much their paths in life diverge.

NOTP: This isn't necessarily a Four or an LU problem, but people who ship the Colors together? Bro. C'mon.

Favorite headcanon: I'm torn between two different Four and the Master Sword headcanons. On one hand, Four thinking that the Master Sword is just legend until he meets Sky and everyone else is just a fun idea. He sees the legendary sword for the first time and his mind is blown. On the other hand, I also like my Four with a side of hubris. What if he had the option on his quest to draw the Master Sword himself? What if he could tell that if he did that, the consequences would be terrible. He's not sure what would happen, but he knows it would be terrible. So he decided to make his own sword instead to disastrous results. Wouldn't that be tragic or what?

-Time-

What I love about them: Last winter, I did a two hour powerpoint for my friends about the Legend of Zelda timeline. During that powerpoint, I was rating every iteration of Link. What I said about the Hero of Time then holds true to my thoughts of LU Time now. Time is the original Link, more so than Sky in the lore and Legend/Hyrule in real life. Every other hero is a reflection of him. So the fact that his story is about the loss of childhood and the tragedy of that is incredible, and you can see those themes reflected in every other game. Moreso, he’s the only Link with a confirmed tragic ending. Not only does he end his life unsatisfied, but his adventure is failure on every timeline. In the adult timeline, Hyrule is swallowed by the sea. In the child one, Ganondorf returns again. In the fallen timeline, Hyrule fell. I like the idea since that the games themselves are the legends that are past down about each hero, Hylians have also remembered Time as a tragic figure. Yet, they also remember that the happy moments for his life come from small acts of kindness. Even someone as sad as him finds joy in helping others, even if it’s just to small deeds that will not be heralded as grand heroic quests. It’s beautiful.

What I hate about them: This is more about Mask than Time, but Mask is not an adult in a child’s body. He did not rewind time in Termina enough to be considered mentally an adult. He’s a young teenager at best, and that’s me being generous. He is a child who was forced to be an adult and despite the gods being done with him, he cannot conceive of ever having a childhood again. So he can say all he wants that he’s an adult, but he is not. That’s just what he thinks he is.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Anytime we get a flashback to him being a younger adult is great. I want to see more of his in this his early adulthood.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think I just want more of Time being... not a bad leader, but being an imperfect one. I honestly think he’s only the leader because he’s the oldest and enough of the heroes recognize the title of Hero of Time. But he is not the leader type, and he is struggling to keep it together and has to defer to Twilight and Warriors for help a lot. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I’m not the biggest fan of Dad!Time for any of the Links. He’s not emotionally ready for it. And I think he defaults to treating the boys like adults because that’s how he wanted to be treated when he was their age. 

Favorite pairing with: Malon. He has this great partnership of equal respect with her and it’s just. So good.

Favorite friendship: Linebeck. I know. This exists only in my head. But if these two ever meet, you cannot convince me that they would not get along swimmingly. It would be so good (once Linebeck gets over his crush on Time and stops hitting on him, of course).

NOTP: Child Timeline Zelda. Let me explain: I fully believe in Bi Time supremacy, and when in OoT, he definitely had a crush on Sheik. However, one of the worst parts of rewinding time and being in the child timeline is that Zelda is a completely different person now. They may have been friends in the other timeline, but her life experiences are completely different now. She is not the same person as he once knew. And it’s tragic to know someone as who they could have been, not as they are.

Favorite headcanon: After Termina, Time spent a lot of time with the Nabooru because out of everyone he knew, she’s the only who took him seriously even as a child. She has big older sister energy, and he considers her a part of his family. However, being treated as such made it easier for him to ignore his issues and put off his healing process by a few years.

-Legend-

What I love about them: Veteran of Heroes! What a freaking title. I love that he keeps on finding adventures, and that he keeps hustling. Even if he complains about never getting a break, you can tell that he loves helping others. He loves being on the road, never settling down, and finding adventure after adventure. Honestly, if any of the Links had a calling to be a hero, it’s him. Is he tired? Sure. Is he a little jaded after having saved Hyrule and a bunch of other kingdoms multiple times? Yes. But at the end of the day, he likes being a hero. This is who he is. His complaining is not genuine; he just plays the martyr because, at this point, he’s earned the right to.

What I hate about them: If you can’t tell by now, I have a, uh, different interpretation of Legend from popular canon. Fandom Legend is not right to me. He is unrecognizable. It is hard to write him because I feel like I have to balance what other people think Legend should be versus how I think he is. The people who are big Legend enjoyers probably feel the same way about my version of Warriors, and that’s fine. I’m not going to gel with every character and I don’t expect everyone to gel with how I see characters either. It’s goes both ways, y’know.

Favorite Moment/Quote: I like how subtly he tried to approach the Wolfie problem at first, trying to ask questions and get more proof before confronting Twilight. It’s a good touch.

What I would like to see more focus on: If I had to choose one thing, it’s this one throw away line about him never wanting to settle down. I’m telling you, folks! He likes his lifestyle! And did you see him when he does presenting the origins of the hero? He’s not bitter about being a hero! Legend is moody, but he is not angsty about the whole hero thing. Have fun with him please!

What I would like to see less focus on: If you can’t tell by now, Legend is my least favorite Link. There is a lot I want to see less of, but just to name one thing, it’s the headcanon that Fable is his sister. I live and die by common born Link, and whether he’s a legitimate heir or the royal bastard, I am more than bored with the persistent Prince!Legend content.

Favorite pairing with: Marin. It’s a good tragic story and I like it well enough. She’s cute, and he’s cute with her.

Favorite friendship: Warriors. I’m with everyone else on these two have peak sibling energy. They tease and pick on each other, but only they are allowed to mess with each other. They’re each other’s bully, and it’s always good to see.

NOTP: I do not have enough energy to have a lot of strong opinions about Legend’s romantic relationships, but I will mentioned that I have lost a lot of love for Ravio recently and am liking seeing him with Legend less and less. I have no better reason for this than the fact that I finally played ALBW and hate how many of my hard earned rupees he’s taken from me by withholding important, lifesaving items. Rat bastard.

Favorite headcanon: Remember my headcanon about him being the coolest bad boy folk hero on the block because everyone thinks he kidnapped Zelda? Yeah, I still stand by that one. I did good there.

-Hyrule-

What I love about them: If there is any Link that I would call a gutter rat, it is this one. I struggle a bit to talk about Hyrule since his games gives us so little, but in the end, I always fall back on him being a hero of the people. He is the one who has nothing and relates the best to people who are at their lowest. Yet, he is still a hero. He earns the right to be a hero because he helped Impa in her time of need. He’s selfless and competent. Even if he never got a traditional education, I bet he’s wicked smart too. He is the Link that symbolizes all of the parts of the Triforce the most. And, god. I cannot talk about him without mentioning the blood sacrifice part of LA. It’s such a cool concept, and I cannot imagine what it must be like to go from being the rough and tumble, win-at-all-costs fighting to protecting yourself first because if you don’t, the consequences are disastrous. It’s paradoxical, and it must be such a different mindset to fall into. But it must also be a blessing in disguise since now he has a reason to finally care about himself.

What I hate about them: Who started the Hyrule is innocent headcanon? Come over here because we need to exchange some words. If there is anyone who would be a realist and know how the world works, it’s this guy. And while we’re here, who came up with the Hryule is always lost headcanon? I also have some words for you. And you know what? WHILE WE’RE HERE, who let him be named Hyrule? I’m have more than choice words for you. His name scheme is the bane of my existence and the express reason why I don’t write him more. God.

Favorite Moment/Quote: That one panel where he takes utter delight in Warriors hiding from his scorned lovers? That is a central pillar in my understanding of Hyrule.

What I would like to see more focus on: Again, his relationship with other people. Even if his games are lacking in NPCs, we know from lore that he’s a good guy who will jump in to help others. He must know plenty of people, and I want to see who exists in his world with him. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I have an on-going joke with my brother that certain characters are Catholic, even if Catholicism does not exist in the world of the thing we’re watching or playing. Of course, we’re not being serious. we’re just joshing around. So imagine the gut punch I feel whenever I see people say Hyrule is Christian and realize that they’re being serious. I just can’t take it seriously.

Favorite pairing with: Aurora. It’s cute and I’m a sucker for that hero and royalty dynamic, especially when the hero is a peasant. It’s so cheesy, but I love it.

Favorite friendship: Legend. But not the way everyone else pairs them up as the grumpy one and the sunshine one. I think of it more as them being the pinnacle of boys being boys. They’re shitheads. They do stupid shit together. They both have a dark sense of humor. They joke that they’re practically the same person sometimes.

NOTP: uhhhhhhhhh.... Is he paired with anyone else?

Favorite headcanon: I love the idea that he just likes his way of life and refuses to accept anyone saying otherwise. Legend wants to teach him to read? Sorry, but he’s never had to read before in his life so he’s pretty sure he’ll never need it anyway. Want to participate in the treasured Hylian tradition of piercing your ears when you come of age? Why would he ever do that when a monster could rip those earrings off? He’s stuck in his ways and it frustrates everyone else to no end, but he has no interest in ever changing.

-Wild-

What I love about them: When I was 9, I spent my time online on Legend of Zelda forums. I remember one of my forum friends saying that they wanted a Legend of Zelda game where Link lost. And I think of that friend whenever I think about Wild. BOTW Link is the best Link that has ever been. He is the epitome of every trait we associate with any Link. He’s smart and sassy. He’s hard working and kind. But underlining all of that is the fact that he’s still the one who failed. If Demise’s Curse in SkSw is the set-up, the Great Calamity is the payoff. And I haven’t even talked about how confirming him as being non-verbal before the Calamity does so much for his characterization. I don’t even know where to start or how to articulate it. By game storyline alone, Wild is one of my favorites.

What I hate about them: You guys knew this one was coming, but I’m going to have to say it anyway. Fandom Wild.... not good. I’ve said it for half of these boys so far, but god is it true. I have a way I see Wild that is rarely done in the fandom. Fandom Wild has a lot of the traits I also see in Wild, but to all of the extremes. I will mention one thing in particular as being a pet peeve, and it’s how some people headcanon him as always being nonverbal. I know what they’re trying to do, and I think they’re on to something, but they’re also missing the point of what BOTW Link’s character arc is. I just wish more people would forget fandom and work more off of the games for how to characterize him.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Weirdly enough, my favorite moment is when he got mad at everyone for making fun of his Gerudo outfit, so he dumped Goron Spice in his cooking. It’s encapsulates a part of his character I think a lot of people forget about.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think he has a really complicated relationship with his past. He said himself that his old self felt like a different person, and I think that should be explored a lot more. That idea actually fascinates me so much that instead of CTB, I almost wrote a character study fic about Wild. His emotions are not as simple as feeling guilty about letting his friends die and not preventing the Calamity. His emotions would be so complicated and because I don’t have the time to explore it, someone else needs to do it for me.

What I would like to see less focus on: There is a weird fascination with Wild having memory loss and essentially being like a kid again. And this feels infantilizing to me. It honestly bugs me a lot every time I see it.

Favorite pairing with: I can’t decide between Zelda, Mipha, and Revali. They’re all different dynamics and they’re all good.

Favorite friendship: Paya. I firmly believe that Paya is Wild’s best friend. I am the only one in the world who believes this. But I am also the only one in the world who is correct. 

NOTP: Wild is good with everyone. Good for him!

Favorite headcanon: An essential scene of my Wild character study I will never write is one where his horse dies. He goes into shock and walks back to Kakariko to talk to Impa. But once he goes to her, he breaks down in tears and has an absolute melt down over the horse. And Impa sagely says, “It’s not about the horse, is it?” She’s implying that he’s actually mourning the loss of his friends, Hyrule, his life, everything-- but through his tears, he keeps tell her that she’s wrong. He barely remembers them. He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t have any feelings about them. He just really loved that horse. But Impa refuses to listen to him, just repeating over and over again: “it’s not really about the horse.”

And that’s it! That’s all of my opinions! I know a lot of my opinions are polarizing, but everything I said is in good faith, and I am not trying to diss anyone for how they approach these characters.

I welcome you to send me your Opinions on the Links, even if it’s just to disagree with me. I’m cool with it, and I like knowing what everyone else thinks!

[autumn-writes]

Hello! May I request Nagito with insecure s/o that often skips meals and does unhealthy stuff?

sure thing! as someone who does a lot of unhealthy stuff on a daily basis (pls i can't help it </3) this hits close to home. don't follow my example ><! always be sure to take care of yourself!!

notes; headcanons below are not proofread, do expect typos and errors here and there. i haven't watched any danganronpa gameplay in a while so please do bear with me if nagito is extremely ooc </3 i'm slowly watching gameplays again so i can get back into the fandom

Nagito Komaeda with an S/O who has a very unhealthy lifestyle

nagito komaeda — ultimate lucky student

i could not think of a way to mix the two subjects together although they're a very common pair- so i made separate thoughts for them :D! let's start with the insecure part

woooohhhh boy, nagito is also very insecure of himself so hah- expect compliments from him that include degrading speech directed to himself

"you look beautiful, y/n" "really? you... think so?" "more beautiful than the sun at sunset. i honestly can't believe that someone as beautiful as you would be with someone as trashy as me—"

cut him off there before he does a whole speech on how he doesn't deserve you

whenever you achieve something he's the first person to congratulate and compliment you! he's very supportive <3

if ever you feel insecure about yourself, may it be about your appearance, your personality or your intelligence, he's immediately shutting down every negative word about yourself that leaves that pretty mouth of yous and instead counters with compliments and reassurance!

he just— can't see all the bad stuff that you see and he wishes you could see just how much he admires you and how he sees you as someone so far above him.

even if it takes a million compliments to get you to see yourself the way he sees you, he'll be sure to gift you 100 compliments for every flaw and imperfection that only you seem to spot.

now onto the unhealthy lifestyle hcs :)!

i personally headcanon nagito as someone who doesn't know how to take care of himself very well

yes he can cook, bathe, clean, watch his hygiene and all those other stuff but when it comes to just generally taking care of himself like eating his meals, sleeping early or keeping himself well kempt? he's not quite the best in those areas

nagito wants you to take care of yourself so bad but he can't even watch out for himself :( so he tries to make a few changes here and there to his own schedule that end up benefiting both him and you :>

every morning before school starts, nagito is sure to head over to your house with some food that he either made himself, or got at a shop/bakery before heading to your house

knocks a few times before entering your house with a spare key you gave him, and if he finds you still asleep when he goes to your room, he'll just let you rest for a few more moments knowing that you slept late the previous night and instead decides to prepare some of your stuff for the day and make you something to drink for when you wake up :) he's a sweetheart < 3

nagito is a malewife

when you're awake he greets you good morning and compliments you on how beautiful you look which makes you blush before carefully ushering you to the bathroom so you can prepare yourself for the day before going with you to school

whenever it's lunch time he's sure to accompany you to the cafeteria so he can buy you lunch. he's not letting you pay cause he believes he should be treating you to food and not the other way around. won't allow you to split the funds either >:( but that's okay you just quietly slip a dollar into his wallet when he isn't looking

actually he did see he just keeps quiet about it cause he finds it cute how you really want to pay him back even though he said that the food is 100% on him and he just wants to see you happy :)

after classes if you two have homework or projects or a test, he'll accompany you to the library so you two can get some stuff done. he doesn't want you to end up panicking over deadlines or approaching test dates and then end up stressing yourself out which leads to cramming and sleepless nights

if you don't have anything to worry about he'll go with you to a cafe so you two can eat something and just spend time with each other

idk why but i can envision him just going "let's get some food? i have a feeling that you'll skip dinner tonight which isn't hopeful at all" with a playful smile while you lightly elbow his side

brings you home and reminds you of your plans for tomorrow and to sleep early tonight before heading home— not before getting his lil nose kiss tho :) he can't leave without it, makes him think he didn't do a good job as ur bf today (which isn't true he deserves all the kisses he can get. you did a great job today boyfie nagi :>)

when it's a bit a late, around 9:30 or 10 he'll check if you're awake and if you still are, he'll tell you to go to sleep

if you can't sleep however, he'll chat with you until you end up getting tired

if that doesn't work he'll nervously ask if you want to video chat

"would you like to uh, video chat perhaps?" "hm?" "of course, i can understand if you wouldn't wish to see me right now. who would even want to listen to me and have my voice be the final thing someone hears at ni—" "i'd love to have a video chat with you nagi :D!"

you broke him when you sent that message but he's quick to start a video chat with you

you two talk until nagito can see you peacefully snoozing off (he takes a picture of you sleeping cause he thinks you look adorable)

10/10 would recommend as a boyfriend who takes care of you :) he just really cares for you and wants you to take care of yourself. though the best part of taking care of you is that in turn, he was also able to take care of himself <3 yay!

here you go anon! sorry this was late but i hope you like these <3! do tell me if you wish for these to be redone. take care and stay always my lovelies!

[gay-otlc]

Little Miss Perfect

Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.

Little miss perfect, that's me

Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.

Word count: 3143

(Read on AO3)

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners

Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?

Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.

So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.

I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.

And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.

Make it through Foxfire.

Manifest an ability.

Get a respectable job.

Marry a respectable boy.

Have children.

Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.

Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney

Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.

If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.

Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.

Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.

If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm

Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.

But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.

So ae'd just mumble.

Perfect until proven otherwise.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten

Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.

Not interested in the right people.

But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.

And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.

Ae is so fucking sick of it.

Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter

Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.

She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.

Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.

But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.

But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.

Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne

Dear Maruca,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.

It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.

That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.

What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?

No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.

This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful.

Straight A's are most successful.

Straight forward is fastest.

Straight girls are the most perfect.

Little miss perfect That's me

And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.

Ae doesn't get a choice.

One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered

And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.

So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.

Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.

It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.

Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.

She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."

Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."

Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing

"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.

Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."

"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.

Skin touching. Holding hands.

It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.

Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.

It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.

Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic

Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.

Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.

It's perfect, even if ae isn't.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.

Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.

Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It’s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.

No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.

"Biana? Bi? You listening?"

Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"

"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."

Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.

“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.

She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time

Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.

Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.

Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no

Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.

Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.

I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

Everything happens at once.

Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.

Biana's world shatters.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

That kiss was amazing.

But it's too risky to do again.

I'm sorry.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.

I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.

It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.

I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.

You shouldn't love me either.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-

No.

I hate myself.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Dear Maruca,

Or maybe I love you.

I don't know.

I probably don't.

Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.

I don't know love. But it can't be you.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier

Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Ae's been pretending aer whole life.

Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.

Pretends, pretends, pretends.

Pretends to be perfect.

You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

Biana talks to Maruca once.

They both apologize in the same breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"

"That was weird, I'm sorry-"

"I don't like you, I was just confused."

"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."

"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."

"Nah, that'd be weird."

They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.

“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Dear Maruca,

Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.

[shinysobi]

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride (ii)

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | coming soon

ao3

(A/N: so... i am extremely sorry for not updating,,, uni and life has been generally kicking my ass pretty horribly (im in my final semester lol) and while i am not generally very happy with this chapter, it is important because it sets up a lot of things in the future yeeet)

word count: 4955

Attorney Park wishes her good luck as she leaves for the courthouse the next day, and Sol can’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for some reason, and frantically checks for food stuck in her teeth on the way to the courthouse. There isn’t any, so she’s left to wonder exactly what the hell he meant when he had sent her off with a very cryptic “see you soon, Kang Sol.”

“What did he even mean?” she mutters to herself, calling her sister, “Ah, Byeol, remember to go to your academy today, all right?”

“Okay, eonni,” her sister replies, “you’re at the courthouse, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I have a case to win,” she replies, and Byeol wishes her good luck before the call goes silent, and she allows herself a rare moment of self-reflection, taking in the image of the Courthouse. It’s imposing, but she curiously feels at home here, in the middle of the city where the noise of the cars is so loud, she can’t hear the person next to her sometimes. There’s something magical about the courthouse, and she isn’t romanticising it, but the idea of fighting for justice, no matter how imperfect, it fills her with pride, even more so when she knows that what she is doing is for good.

Not to say that there aren’t any downsides to it, either. She gets threats almost on the daily, from disgruntled clients and from people who want her to take the case, even though she knows it would be an affront to her dignity. The Dean’s voice floats into her ear, reciting the Attorneys-at-act law that allows her to reject a case if she wants to. Right. It does not feel like an insult to her now like it had done then, the act, because she chose to take this case on, and yet, here she is, standing in front of the courthouse, wearing her nicest clothes (Yeseul had raised an eyebrow, but she was too tired to pay any attention to her) and dreading her turn to go inside.

“Eonni!” a voice calls out, and it’s Yeseul, dressed for a case, “how long do you have before you have to go in?” Sol doesn’t need to check her watch to tell the time that is left, ten minutes on the dot, and she’s waiting for her client to come through, still in police custody, something which she had failed to stop, “are you staring off into space again?”

She recovers quickly, “no, I was just waiting for the defendant to be brought here by the police.” She turns to Yeseul, who’s evidently not had much sleep, “why are you here in my case? Didn’t you wrap one up today?”

“Ah, I did,” Yeseul smiles, taking a hold of Sol’s arm, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? I thought you would need some support, you know, since you—”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Sol smiles at her, loops their arms together, and says, “do you want to have coffee?”

Yeseul grins, “I’d love to.”

—

No matter how many times she’s walked in here, and no matter how much the courthouse makes her feel at ease, there’s still a part of her that is anxious when she stands in front of it, hoping that she might be able to provide adequate justice to the person she was defending. It throws her off sometimes, the court of law. But she can always find her way back to it, and perhaps this is why she loves it, loves being able to defend people from being betrayed by the same system that they had put so much trust in, betrayed, just like she had been. It’s as though the law is apologising to her, albeit in its own, slightly twisted way.

The defendant, Je Sang-Hee, sits at her designated position, looking at her, and Sol draws herself up to her full height, careful to not catch anyone’s eye on the other side of the courthouse. Its oddly suffocating, the courthouse today, the air thick with a sort of anticipation that she doesn’t really want to address. Yeseul squeezes her arm, whispering, “you’ll do good, eonni,” and all of a sudden, she’s standing there, alone, with only her wits there for help. Shit. I wish I had had gotten drunk last night. At least this would have been hazier.

She approaches the bench, the defendant sitting silently, and tries to reassure her, “don’t worry, we’ll clear your name, all right?” she’s met with silence, as Sang-Hee only nods, her eyes welling with unshed tears. It’s heart-breaking, the way Sang-Hee has accepted her punishment, accepted that she would be going to prison anyway, so, nothing really matters. Sol doesn’t want that for her. She doesn’t want that for anyone, not even the worst of criminals. Sure, she may not be defending them in the court of law, but everyone should benefit from the assumption of innocence. She may not be the one speaking up for them, but she does wish that people have the opportunity to prove themselves innocent.

There aren’t many people in attendance in the courthouse today, which is a blessing, but she also has to deal with pesky reporters stationed outside, who seemed to have taken an interest in the woman accused of attempted murder, despite having really, no evidence against her. It was funny, how people jumped to conclusions, just because of the person’s backgrounds, or due to a particular defamatory article that may have been published about them online. Sang-Hee had had one published about her, filled with lies so vile that Sol couldn’t even read through it once.

“Sang-Hee ssi,” She says, approaching the defendant’s bench, “how are you feeling today?”

Je Sang-Hee looks at her, eyes still shining with tears, and lowers her gaze. She can’t even speak. Sol is angry, of course, but even more than the anger that simmers inside of her, is frustration, for not being able to protect her client, frustration at being unable to be the person there for the victim.

“Eonni,” Yeseul’s voice drags her out of her little reverie, “eonni, I think Joon-hwi oppa is here now.”

Sol squints at the younger girl, “who told you that?”

Yeseul holds up her phone, “Bok-gi is going to be here too, so he texted me. The two of them are going to come along, him and Jiho. Jiho should be here by now, but he hasn’t texted yet.”

Sol just—stares at Yeseul for a moment, trying to understand the volley of information that had just been thrown at her, in a manner not unlike that of Professor Yang, the man who, Sol recollects with regret, had heard about this whole mess from Sol B, but had not once offered to help. She didn’t need his help, though. It’s just that he could have offered to help her, and it would have been nice.

“Eonni,” Yeseul says, warning evident in her voice, “he’s here.”

What she doesn’t say, but Sol knows, is the sentence, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you. She didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice to know that at least one person had her back in this courthouse. Bok-gi was of course, on her side too, but she knew he wouldn’t sacrifice Joon-Hwi. Not now, anyway.

“You have your back to the Prosecutor’s bench,” Yeseul elbows her lightly, and she realises that yes, she has indeed been standing with her back towards the Prosecution’s bench all this while, and most importantly, there was someone behind her.

“Attorney Kang,” She knows that voice, has heard it in her head for years now, but Kang Sol finds herself unable to lift her gaze from the linoleum floor as she grasps the warm hand that was now being offered to her, “nice to meet you, finally.”

There’s a teasing lilt to the last word, a certain edge to the syllable that she knows all too well, having been subjected to it for hours on end, in classes, in the copy room, in the café, even in her mind. It’s from a voice she knows all too well, someone she had wronged.

Courage, Kang Sol.

“Hello, Prosecutor Han,” she looks up, extending one hand to the man in front of her, and—

She didn’t have any expectations of how she would meet Han Joon-Hwi after so many years, but in the deeper recesses of her mind, she had a thought; of his eyes widening at seeing her face for the first time in so many years, her falling in love with him all over again. She had thought of looking—no, not just looking, looking at him, for the first time in so many years, after that one fateful day when she ignored the words of her heat and went running far away from him, perhaps falling in love all over again.

Instead—she feels nothing. Perhaps a pang of guilt somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but when she looks into the eyes of Han Joon-Hwi, her best friend, the person she had fallen in love with, Kang Sol doesn’t see anyone but a weathered prosecutor, the boy who had called out her name on graduation day in Hankuk Law school long gone. Even though he looks not a day older, even though his eyes still crinkle in the same way when he smiles, and his hand still holds the same weight when he takes her hand for a handshake, but she can’t find the boy she was in love with anymore.

“Attorney Kang,” he grins, and his voice is the same, teasing when he looks at her, smiles at her, but he is her opponent, she has to defeat him today. This isn’t preparing for mock trials and judicial competitions, where they only played at being lawyers and prosecutors, this is real life. Je Sang-Hee’s life depends upon her, Kang Sol, winning this case. Against him, Han Joon-Hwi.

“Noona, nice to see you again,” Bok-gi pushes forward, giving her a warm hug, which does its job to dissipate all errant thoughts of a boy whose smile had haunted her in her dreams, “I’ll be watching today, my law firm asked me to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assures him, “you can take all the notes you want.” He’s still looking at her, she realises when she lets go of Bok-gi, Han Joon-Hwi is still staring at me. Do I have something in my teeth? “Good luck today, Prosecutor Han.”

He grins at her then, dimpled smile making her heart skip a beat, and says, “I don’t need luck, Attorney Kang,” before sauntering off to his seat.

Kang Sol clenches her jaw. Asshole.

--

He wasn’t sure how it would be—their meeting for the first time, but Joon isn’t going to say he’s dissatisfied with it. sure, she’s grown up now—she isn’t Kang Sol A anymore, she goes by just Kang Sol, and he doesn’t have the pesky tag of second-round judicial passer hanging around his neck anymore.

She had stared him down, and to no surprise, he still found her beautiful. Sure, he had always thought that there was a sort of magnetic aura around Sol, something that commanded the attention of an entire room when she walked in. She looked the same as she had looked, five years ago, when he had tried to confess to her, and she had rejected him. Sol hadn’t told him that she was rejecting him, at least not explicitly; Han Joon-Hwi was a man who could take a hint, especially if it ran away from him while he was in the middle of his confession. Really, Kang Sol. You made me chase you all the way to this courtroom.

A hand slams down on his desk, and Seo Jiho’s irritated voice tells him, “If you’re going to stare, at least do it properly.”

He sputters, suddenly thankful that his co-prosecutor was running late, as he stood up to stare at his ex-roommate, who was porting a very uncharacteristic grin, “what do you mean by that? I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Jiho says, and even Bok-gi sniggers at him, “you were just looking in the general direction of Sol noona, so much so that everyone in the room thinks that the two of you are either dating, or that you want to kill her. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles under his breath, and Jiho presses on, “did you prepare well for this case? You do realise that your evidence is weak, do you?”

“Ah, of course, hyung knows it,” Bok-gi steps in to intervene, and Joon-Hwi thinks for a moment that yes, Bok-gi was always one of the better ones, and then he opens his mouth again, “he’s just ignoring all the things he said before entering the courthouse, and proving to all of us how much of a hypocrite he is.”

Joon glares at Bok-gi, who is giggling at him now, and turns to look at the judge’s bench a pout on his face. Sure, he had proclaimed in the car that he would “not be looking at her, nope”, and the fact that it had taken him exactly three minutes to break that promise was bit laughable, but his friends didn’t have to rub it into his face.

“I don’t understand,” Bok-gi asks, “why are you still hung up on her? You basically took this case just so you could meet her again, and even though the two of you haven’t talked in years, you still talk about her, you still ask about her when you get the chance, so what is going on?”

Joon-Hwi doesn’t answer. He knows what is going on, why he has been so intent on meeting Kang Sol, even after so long, but he doesn’t want to—no, he can’t tell Bok-gi that. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he even thinks of telling Bok-gi the actual reason behind him running after Sol, even though she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He wonders, sometimes.

His co-prosecutor arrives in the courtroom, almost gliding over the floor to take their seat, and he can see Kang Sol shrink back a little, obviously intimidated. He doesn’t hide his smile anymore, not that he needs to either. She didn’t have to get flustered over his co-prosecutor entering the damn courtroom. She’s never done that, at least from what Bok-gi and Yebeom have told him; even Jiho had pitched in with his own comments sometimes, knowing exactly how much it pissed him off, but he still did it. Every time he met Bok-gi or he met Yeseul, he would ask about her, waiting for them to respond with “oh, she’s doing okay, oppa” and “I met her a few weeks ago, she was fine, hyung” and they move on after that, but he can’t.

They don’t possibly expect him to move on from her, do they?

“All rise,” the bailiff announces, and he dutifully stands up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sol gently helps the defendant to rise up alongside her, before being seated again. She still did that little thing when she looked around the entire courtroom for people watching her, he thinks to herself. She’s still the same Sol. No, she’s different now. We both are. We both are different, but there’s still things about her that remind me of the times we spent in Hankuk.

“Prosecutor Han,” the judge tells him, and he stands up quickly to his feet, “begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” He says, walking out to the defendant’s bench, “defendant Je Sang-Hee, you were indicted on charges of attempted murder, following an attack on your fiancé, Seo Changmin, on the fourteenth of November, two weeks prior to your indictment.”

“Yes, I was,” she begins, “but I didn’t do anything to—”

“I’ll be the one asking questions here,” he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sol draw an almost-imperceptible breath, shaking her head at him. She isn’t flustered. He’s very sure she isn’t flustered, because the two of them have been on opposite sides of each other, time and time again, “could you confirm that Seo Changmin suffered injuries because of you?”

She stares at him, defiant, and replies, “he did not suffer injuries because of me, I found him and I called the police, I’ve told you this.”

“Yes, you have,” Joon walks to the front of the witness’ bench, “but your whereabouts were also unknown that night, until that fateful moment when you actually found your fiancé, and proceeded to assault him. Is that right?”

She looks at him, scowling. He’s hit a nerve, apparently. They had been harping on that aspect for far too long than what was necessary, Joon had noticed when he had been preparing. He couldn’t go that way when he questioned her, because he knows Sol has prepared for it.

So, he changes his track of questioning, “Ms Sang-Hee, would I be wrong in assuming that Mr Changmin had visited you five times over the three days prior to the accident?”

She stares at him, “he is my fiancé. Or he was, before the accident happened. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit me multiple times in a single day.”

He stops, “and yet, when the police asked you about the reason of his visits, you chose to remain silent, evading the question—”

“Objection,” Sol says calmly, standing up from her seat, “the prosecution cannot ask leading questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies smoothly, even before Joon-Hwi has a chance to respond, “Prosecutor Han, you cannot possibly expect me to accept this in the courthouse.”

He nods his head, slightly irritated, now that she has taken his advantage away, “moving on, Ms. Sang-Hee, when you found Seo Changmin unconscious, why did you not call for an ambulance? You waited ten minutes to call an ambulance, which most people would argue, looks strange, does it not?”

She doesn’t back down an inch. Good. He hadn’t thought she would either. They didn’t have enough evidence to show that she was guilty, her indictment based primarily on circumstantial evidence that even the most punishment-happy of all judges would find difficulty agreeing with. But they had had her indicted, and now they were here, trying to get her a sentence that would be as heavy as possible. Sol had been right. He didn’t have to worry about the defendant, not as a prosecutor. He just had to punish people to the full extent of the law.

“I tried to wake him up multiple times, but he didn’t respond,” Sang-Hee responds, staring at the judge, “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary, since he had always had a drinking problem, but when he didn’t respond to me calling his name in the morning, that was when I grew worried.”

She looks at him once, then back to her lawyer, Sol, who looked as though she wanted to strangle him. good. This means I’m winning, and turns back to him, “it was like him to come back drunk, so drunk that he could barely remember where he was, and his friends would drop him off at my house, with apologies, but he would repeat his behaviour. I wasn’t too worried when he didn’t respond to my calls at night, but by morning, he would usually be awake and demanding breakfast. That was when I started to get anxious.”

“Anxious? Not worried?” he asks, curiosity spiked by her peculiar choice of words, “were you anxious that he was actually dead? Or were you anxious that your—”

“he’s my fiancé, of course I would be anxious if he was not responding to my calls,” Sang-Hee stares at him, “you must not have dated a lot if you think I wouldn’t have been worried about my fiancé.”

A wave of laughter runs through the court, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn red. Even the judge cracks a smile, and he can see both Bok-gi and Jiho sniggering. They’re never going to let me live this one down, “so, you called the police then, who found your fiancé almost dead from a drug overdose.”

“Yes,” she looks at her hands, fingers intertwined, “they told me he had taken it about four hours before I called them.”

Ah, there it is. He knew it would come to this, he had known there was no way to win this case after all, even if he really did want to win. There were things he couldn’t do after all, despite being what they called a ‘star prosecutor’. “No more questions.”

The smile on Sol’s face is enough to tell him that he’s lost this case. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel disappointed, even as his partner shoots dirty looks at him, a clear violation of courtroom conduct, but he can’t bring himself to care, fixated on the way she looks while cross-examinating the defendant, the way she turns to the judge and says “no more questions, your Honour.” It’s a far cry from the Sol he remembers at law school, the one who would have him act as prosecutor whenever she went up in a mock trial, even if he had been assigned the role of prosecutor, going up against her. She always asked him to help her practise, and like the fool that he was, he always helped her. Even now, as he stands there, watching her, it’s almost as though he is back at Hankuk; almost, but not quite.

“Court adjourned for the day, and will convene for the next trial on—” Joon can feel himself growing more and more antsy, as the judge announces the date for the next trial, and that Sang-Hee can be released from Judicial custody, especially since her health had been failing due to the stress of the trial and asthma, from which she had suffered since she was young.

He hurries out of the courthouse, only to be cornered by Jiho and Bok-gi at the entrance, Bok-gi with a large grin on his face and Jiho with his trademark expressionless look, although he knows both of them were going to tease him about this, possibly till he died and perhaps even then, they would find a way to sneak it into his eulogy.

Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Bok-gi asks, even as Joon desperately tries to catch a glimpse of Sol through the now-closing courtroom doors, “shouldn’t you be preparing for the next date?”

He looks at Bok-gi for a second, eyes widening, “what are you talking about?”

Bok-Gi’s smile gets wider, if that’s possible, “really? What were you thinking about, hyung? I was talking about the next court date.”

Joon-Hwi huffs, “I was thinking about the same thing, Min Bok-Gi; now, if you will—”

Jiho opens his mouth to say something, but Joon barrels past the two of them, running down the stone steps and to the driveway, where his car was parked, and, presumably, Sol’s too. She’s walking faster now, and he has to run to keep up with her. Her ponytail bobs as she takes quick steps, in a hurry to get away from the courthouse complex. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“Sunbae!” he calls out, loud enough to catch the attention of quite a few people, “Sunbae!”

That catches her attention all right, and she stops in her tracks, turning to him, an irritated expression on her face. It doesn’t stay for long, however, fading just as quickly as it came, “so, you’re still sticking with that name, Han Joon-Hwi?”

He grins, “of course. It wouldn’t be me and you, if I didn’t call you Sunbae, Sunbae.”

She stares at him, with an expression he can’t quite place. “I thought we didn’t have that sort of a relationship anymore, Prosecutor Han.”

And, there it is. He can’t deny it and say that it doesn’t hurt to be treated by Sol this way, but he’s nothing if not tenacious, so he pushes on, “you did good today, in there.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nods her head, before replying with a curt, “good job today, Prosecutor Han.” Of course, she would say that; he doesn’t want to admit it, but it sort of feels like she had slapped him full across the face. Who am I kidding, if she had done that, it would have perhaps hurt less. He feels like a fool, standing in the middle of the road, calling out her name, and a years-old nickname that she didn’t like, and one that he felt only held significance for him.

What they had not had was closure; or at least for him, it was that, the absence of a final answer to his unasked question, something between them still hanging in the air. She could ignore it, live on with her life, but he cannot. There should have been closure, he’s told himself time and time again, or was I just too unimportant for her to even give a damn. It isn’t true, he knows, Sol wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone else for that matter, but on some nights, it becomes impossible. He doesn’t blame her either; he blames his own self for the loss of his closest friend. If only he hadn’t been stubborn enough to ask her out on the day of graduation. He should have waited a little bit more.

But then, should he have waited?

“Sol!” he calls out again, jogging lightly to keep up with her steps, “Sol! Wait up for a minute—”

He’s interrupted, Sol turning abruptly to meet him halfway, which results in him having to backtrack, “what do you want now?”

He smiles brightly, “how about Pyongyang naengmyeon? I know a place nearby that’s good.”

She stares at him, like she can’t really figure out his deal. He holds up his hands, “look, all I’m asking for is a meal. No strings attached.”

Surprisingly, she nods once, turning on her heel, “lead the way, Prosecutor Han.”

--

I should not be doing this.

Her phone buzzes, and it’s Yeseul. You should not be doing this, the text reads, and Sol has to gather all her willpower to not scream in the middle of the street, I know, I fucking know, I shouldn’t be doing this with him right now, going for lunch when there’s—no, I just cannot do it.

She thinks it would be good, for her to have one lunch with him, to get him out of her system, Yeseul’s wisdom about not having lunch with someone who is technically her opponent in the court be damned. She just needs to have lunch with him once, and then she can stop feeling this way.

The restaurant is small, but bright light filters in through the large windows as they take a seat at one of the empty tables. There are a lot of them, she thinks, looking around, just after the lunchtime rush, or the restaurant wasn’t a very good one. Either way, she was supposed to be having a meal with Han Joon-Hwi right now, and as Sol takes a seat, she realises she had been vastly unprepared for this meeting.

He doesn’t look like the Joon she knew back in Hankuk, that is certain, but he doesn’t look like what her imagination had unhelpfully supplied her with either. He looks every inch the prosecutor, with dark circles underneath his eyes and that slouching posture she supposes every prosecutor has, as though he had been carrying the weight of the whole world. It’s sad, somehow.

“Are you going to order?”

“Hm?” She turns her gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at her just like he had done all those years ago, when she had a stupid letter attached to her name like a real-life suffix that followed one around, and he used to lean over tables and grin all up in her face and mock her by saying Sunbae. It’s—uncomfortable. She didn’t think she would revert to her university self so easily, but with him, it feels like second nature, “You said Pyongyang naengmyeon, so we should get Pyongyang naengmyeon.”

“All right,” he teases, but it’s light, the kind of tone one would use with a co-worker, which strikes her as somehow offensive (am I not more important than a co-worker?) and she spots a glint of something else in his eyes, but shakes her head free of the thought, just as he says, “so, how is work?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think you asked me to lunch after all these years just to talk to me about work, Han Joon-Hwi.”

He smiles, “right, I didn’t, two orders of beef bone soup, please.”

She stares at him, “it’s summer,” and turns back to the ahjumma, “two orders of Pyongyang naengmyeon, please.”

He just shakes his head, looking at her in that funny way, and asks, “so, do you remember, or do you not?”

What is he even asking me about? “No, I don’t,” she replies, pouring out water for the both of them, “what are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head at her again, “never mind. Let’s eat.”

She can’t help but feel as though she had just missed something important, at least by the look on his face. Or maybe that’s the naengmyeon talking.

[hankwritten]

And She Dresses Like a Scoundrel

Engineer/Spy, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 4: Fashion

“Thank you, Engineer,” I said gratefully, accepting back the once again functional disguise kit.

“No problem, partner,” he replied, gracious as ever. “Must have been a hard three days without it.”

“Indeed.” I sighed, recalling how many sentries had gotten the better of me with a grimace. “To think, less than a year ago I was relying entirely on my own skills of camouflage to create my disguise. I would even do it for fun! But here I am, ten months working for BLU and I’ve become completely dependent on their technology.” Another sigh, this time more beleaguered. “Truly, I have let myself slip.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Spy,” he said, consoling.

I raised my hand. “No need to be patronizing, my friend. I know the writing on the wall.” I waved, preparing to exit his workshop. “Thank you again for the repair, Engineer.”

But as I was halfway to the door, Engie blurted, “why don’t you?”

“Come again?” I asked, turning around.

“Why don’t you make your own disguises anymore?” he repeated, seemingly genuinely confused.

“As I said, I haven’t needed to,” I shrugged. “And thus, my skills have lapsed.”

“But if it was for fun, why’d you stop?”

At that I paused. It had been fun, one of my greatest prides was coming up with a new face and a new identity to fit any particular occasion. There was no greater joy than reintroducing yourself to someone under a new guise and seeing them have no idea.

“…I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Probably because, despite my enjoyment, I associated the activity exclusively with work.”

That satisfied his curiosity, though it did make him rather dour. “Makes sense.” He thought for a moment. “But you could always pick it back up again?”

“I’d be horridly out of practice,” I waved off.

“So? We all gotta start somewhere.”

I tilted my head. “Why does this interest you so?”

He pushed up his goggles, chewing on some thought until it left a peculiar look about his face. “Just seems a shame,” he said eventually, “All that talent going to waste. You seem mighty busy all the time, never see you do anything just because you enjoy it.”

I pressed my lips together. There was a certain truth to that, and I wondered internally if I was being resistant for no reason. “...Hm. I... suppose you are right. Even if I do have access to a near flawless disguise kit, there’s no reason to set it aside entirely.”

“There you go! You sound gung-ho already.”

I didn’t, but he was familiar with my habit of faint praise to cover up genuine enthusiasm. “I appreciate the suggestion,” I told him honestly. “…Maybe when you see me next, you won’t even know it is I.”

Engie grinned, and it was charming how vicious he looked when he was trying to be encouraging. “Looking forward to it.”

Of my old wigs, only the black one with its loose curls had managed to survive its year in storage. Even still, there was frizz on a good portion of it, and after a half hour of teasing I gave up and began tearing apart the rest of my wardrobe for something to lesson its imperfections. What I found was a scarf, red and silken, and decided it would have to do.

A full-length buttoned coat, and pair of striped legs. Yes, these would be serviceable.

But first, makeup . I remembered that much at least, though I failed to recall the first rule of application: always begin with the eyes. The result was that I was left with a perfect pair of heart lips and a disgusting smudge across my sockets, the latter of which I had no interest in starting over on. Instead, I retrieved a pair of sunglasses from my trunk. I deserved to cut a few corners after so long, and anyone who said differently could try their makeup after a year without practice and see if they could do better.

When I was done, a perfectly lovely woman stared back at me. The stare turned into a frown. A perfectly lovely woman a year out of fashion. What was I wearing? Leggings? Good god, those were on the way out last fall.

I began to examine myself in the mirror, cursing myself for ever becoming so woefully outdated. I’d had my finger in the crease of Dapper Cadaver without pause for the past hundred issues, but I hadn’t even bothered to pick up a single magazine on women’s fashion? Disgraceful. Something would have to be done about this.

By the time I made it down to breakfast, someone had already made the first pot of the morning. I filled a mug and sat down.

Medic didn’t so much as blink. He lifted his eyes, greeting, “Guten Morgen, Herr Spy,” and returned to his medical notes. By the spots of blood, they were likely fresh.

Soldier was another story. “By God! You finally did it, Nurse,” he said, gripping the back of Medic’s chair and shaking him slightly. “You turned Spy into a woman!”

“I did not,” Medic said, peeling one of Soldier’s hands off his shoulder. He then considered for a moment, and addressed me, “unless this is your way of making a statement?”

“Non,” I shook my head. “Not entirely, at least. Soldier is right, but this is not permanent: I simply wished to get back into a more…flexible mode of presentation.” I paused for a second. “What did he mean by ‘finally’?”

“Are you implying I have been working secretly in my lab for the past two years on some sort of sex-change ray that would be sure to result in wacky hijinxs should it ever be completed?” Medic sipped his coffee. “Because I’m not and that is ridiculous.”

“…I see.”

If Soldier’s reaction was passionate, Engineer’s was somehow even more so. Before he even fully entered the kitchen, he stopped dead, his eyes locked on me. A few times he tried to speak, failed, and settled for scratching the back of his neck.

“Seems like you took my advice on the whole disguise work,” he said eventually. Now he had trouble looking at me altogether, a deep blush forming along his cheeks.

“I did,” I smirked, amused at his state. “Though unfortunately I’ve found my current wardrobe is not what I’d like it to be. I was hoping to use today’s ceasefire to do some shopping.”

“You want some company?” he asked, then immediately got flustered again. “Just uh…cause I know you don’t like taking your car though all the dust ‘less you absolutely have to, and nearest city with a shopping mall is pretty far…”

“Ah, so you are offering to drive,” I mused. “And here I thought you believed I suddenly needed assistance carrying my bags.”

Medic snorted, though when Engie shot him a glare he showed no indication he’d even been listening.

“…I can give you a lift, sure,” the Engineer affirmed slowly, still frowning offendedly in Medic’s direction.

“That is unacceptable!” Soldier chimed, brining his fist down on the table and making the silverware tinkle. “You two are not yet married! You think you can just go on a trip into town while unchaperoned? It is indecent!”

Engie sputtered, losing the bit of coffee he’d had the misfortune of drinking. “Soldier! What hell are you talking about?” he sputtered. “That ain’t- it’s still just Spy.”

“Exactly,” Soldier agreed. “That is why the two of you cannot be left alone together. Do not worry! I volunteer to accompany you on this shopping trip.”

Medic was laughing, having a much more difficult time hiding it now.

I grinned placidly. “You heard the man, Engineer,” I said. “It would go against decency to be about without a chaperone.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling his helmet further over his eyes. “Guess I’ll make the truck up for three.”

As much as I wanted to see if he would pop like a balloon if any more blood went to his face, I decided he’d had enough for the morning. I kept our conversation within acceptable subjects on the way up, and refrained from commenting on his new collection of odd mannerisms. It was quite adorable actually, especially when Soldier would lean out of the back seat every now and then to remind him ‘no funny business’.

When arriving at the glorious superplex that was the Santa Fe outdoor mall, the first thing on my agenda was a new jacket. The one extracted from the bowels of my old wardrobe was such a drab mauve, and with some help from the assistant at Loveman’s, I was able to find a few acceptable pantsuits. One could only expect “acceptable” when shopping chic in a department store—and a department store in America no less—but hopefully the rivers of fashion had trickled down enough that I wouldn’t embarrass myself too badly. The white plaid one was even quite fetching.

Next were hats.

“Engineer! Spy!” Soldier arrested our attention with. “I have located something I would like to purchase.”

He was wearing a newsboy hat over the top of his helmet.

“You needn’t ask us for permission,” I told him. “You have your own funds.”

He straightened like he honestly hadn’t thought of that. “Okay!” Then he was off again, sorting through the seemingly never-ending headwear.

“Some chaperone,” Engie remarked as he disappeared.

“I’m sure we can be trusted alone for but a few minutes,” I said, turning with a blue cloche hat in place. “What do you think of this one?”

“As pretty as the last. I mean-” He coughed. “Looks just fine.”

I smiled. “Here I thought you’d had enough teasing, but it seems you’re doing all the work for me.”

“Dang it Spy, I just meant-” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know what, let’s just head to the jewelry.”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately jewelry is too much of a hazard. Rings and bracelets make removing gloves difficult, and necklaces are extremely useful for strangling your target from behind.”

“Terrifying that you put it like that, but remember you ain’t doing this for the job,” he prompted. “This is you getting a chance to try something different. D’ya want to wear a necklace?”

As he said it, he moved closer to the jewelry counter. I followed him, peering through the glass at all the trinkets I usually dismissed when assembling a woman’s portfolio. They were lovely…

“Mademoiselle,” I called to the woman behind the counter. “Might I be able to try this on?”

Engie whistled. “Nice choice.”

“I happen to have exquisite taste in jewelry,” I told him, gazing at my reflection in the glass as it wore the blue teardrop pendant I had picked out. “Both when selecting for a lover, or for myself.”

The attendant gave me an odd look, but it was worth it to see Engineer chuckle in a way that no longer uncomfortable.

“I have located another!” Soldier informed us as we took our bag. This time he was wearing a Viking helmet. From where he had obtained it, I had no idea.

“Then finish up paying,” Engie said. “We’re heading out soon.”

“Not so fast, Engineer,” I stopped him as he’d taken a step toward the door. “We still have not gotten anything for you.”

“Me?” he balked, craning his neck around like he was suddenly intimidated by the voluptuous mannequins surrounding us. “I don’t need nothin’…”

“And why not?” I asked. “We have dedicated the whole morning to me, and Soldier is finding ways to entertain himself, why shouldn’t you acquire something nice?”

“I…”

“Please, my friend,” I said. “My treat.”

“…Alright,” he sighed. “Sorry Sol, looks like-”

Soldier had acquired a bowler hat, which he wore on top of his Viking helm.

“-Well okay then.”

The Engineer provided an interesting challenge. The first thing I noticed was that everything in his size was far too long for him, and it made me question how he’d even found fitting clothes in the first place when everything in the store simply wanted to fall off him in tubes. He explained that he usually had to hem up his pants after buying them. I thought that was adorable, to which he muttered a string of ‘aw shucks’.

In a montage where Engie grew more flustered by the minute, I managed to get him into a delightful pair of corduroy pants with a mustard button down, an orange sweater with matching slacks, and a simple floral print button down that might go under his overalls. However, my absolute favorite was-

“Well now you’re just being rude,” he said, holding up the jacket.

“Howdy partner,” I mimicked. “Why don’t we just give up?”

“I don’t sound like that,” he complained. “And I definitely don’t wear things like this.”

The cowboy leathers were the sort of pink you saw from a mile away, genuine cow hide wasted on the monstrosity in his hands. There were more tassels than a man could ever want, and they went wonderfully with the white chaps and matching white Stetson.

“This is an eyesore,” he said.

“So are your regular clothes,” I reflected. “Please, I only ask that you try them on.”

He grumbled, and stepped into the changing room. That was good. I’d hate to have to bring out the, ‘for me?’.

“It’s certainly…something,” I said six minutes later.

“A trainwreck,” Engie said.

“You’re smiling,” I pointed out.

He grinned a little wider. He turned in a circle, the hundreds of tassels swishing around him, and then for good measure did a little two-step. I couldn’t help but chuckle with a hand over my mouth.

A shopper with a mustache passed by and gave us a strange look, and for some reason I started laughing harder.

“What’s got you so tickled?” Engie inquired.

“Nothing,” I waved off with a smile. “I was just thinking: after the thirty-five times the two of use have appeared in public together, this the first that you’re the queer one.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at himself. “Heh, I guess so.” Then he started to laugh. “…So. You been counting the number of times we’ve gone out together?”

“Is it so odd that I enjoy your company?

“No but…” he studied me for a moment. “Would you like to do this again some time? Assuming we can ditch the chaperone.”

“Mr. Conagher, how scandalous!” I said with mock horror. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He gave me one of those charming smiles again, and my heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Soldier greeted us on the way out, hat boxes stacked so high we couldn’t see his face anymore. “Operation successful! Move out troops!”

“Soldier,” Engie asked as he began securing boxes in the back of his pickup so there wouldn’t be a colossal hat pileup on the highway, “how long until you stop following my ‘n Spy around?”

“I do not know. Spy! How long are you going to be a women?”

I adjusted my new hat in the side mirror. “Until I feel otherwise.”

“Well then there you go!” Soldier declared. “It is perfectly acceptable for two unmarried men to be alone together, so you may resume making moon eyes at each other then.”

That, for once, got us both to flush.

[jaefmin]

Treat you better | N.Jm

Treat you better - Na Jaemin

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Header made by: @vantaengelic Go follow my baby rn!!

↳ Pairing: caretaker!Jaeminx fem!reader [sick!reader]

↳ Genre: fluff, angst, fever, humor (if you notice mine😭), friend!au, anxiety, childhood!friends, tattooed!Jaemin sadlkf they don't even kiss-

↳ Synopsis: It's your stupid, ugly and imperfect body that's giving up right before attending an important meeting with your boss. This could give you a promotion, but your body's in a state to just lay in bed all day. Will you be able to get to the meeting?

↳ WC: 2.7k

Ajdjksj- why dId I mAkE tHe syNoPsIs sO cLIcHé

@intokook 🙃🙃

As soon as you're about to pass out from exhaustion, someone knocks at your room's door. Not now. Please. You're barely left with the energy to open your eyes. Your eyelids feel heavy, but soon lift up wide awake when the person enters your room. Those usual creaky sounds of the doors reach your ears only to make you quiver, and, you're blessed with a sight of a pale faced man, hair neatly arranged on his face with a worried expression. Your eyes fall on the man's outfit, a pair of cargos, with a black shirt covering his torso. His facial features seem pleasuring- beautiful orbs with round specs, muscular hands, and beautiful tattoos on them. You immediately recognize the man by his tattoos, and he seems to recognize you too. His appearance disgusts you now that you've realized him. But it's too late to analyze and hate the man in front of you more deeply. Before knowing anything more, you fall asleep.

You feel a hard splash on your face, and in seconds, and you're wide awake. A chill runs down your spine and you begged for the person to have thrown warm water on you. Your eyes witness a standing Jaemin, with a mug of water in his hands. His tattoos attract your eyes towards them, and you can't help but stare at them. "So this is how long it takes to wake you up? I've been shaking you for the past half hour and you are like some big old chimpanzee that doesn't feel anything when an ant's trying to move it." Jaemin baffles. "Hey!" You stammer "Anyways, why are you here?" You ask back. It was oddly strange of Jaemin to be here. "Some man called Jaehyun sent me here. I'm originally taking care of old sick people in an old-age home, but Jaehyun told me about your situation. Trust me, I didn't expect it to be you." Jaemin explained in a high tone. He paused a bit after a comeback again. "And If your condition's hell, then didn't you think of paying the doctor a visit?" His tone seemed like he was sick because of you, and he was criticizing you for even breathing. "That's not how you talk to a sick person." You stood up in your defense "Yeah yeah. 'Sweetie, would you like to visit the doctor? 'Cause I really think we should go there.'" Jaemin mocked you, and you could really see the same young, frustrated Jaemin in him. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

Jaemin made sure you were seated properly in the car. He drove the seatbelt around you and continued to the driver's seat. He turned on the heater, and asked "So, what's wrong? When did you get your fever?" His tone seemed to have calmed a little bit. "Yesterday night. I had a headache, the night was full of surprises every hour." You replied to him in a voice low pitched. "Don't worry we'll get you all fine. And Jaehyun told me that you had a really important meeting... Or something like that? Would you like to tell me more about it?" Jaemin asked. "Oh yeah, there's a personal meet my boss wants to host with me. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have exaggerated it, only if it wasn't in Vegas." You ended with a sad tone, knowing that you'll never make it in there. And losing your job... for another season of hunger games until you get the next one. You sighed. "Don't worry sweetheart. I'll take you there." Jaemin boldly let out.

"No need to worry Y/N. You're absolutely fine. It's just a viral. All those bacteria are kinda fighting inside your tummy, and you've gotta let the good one win and then bam! Y/N's all back!" Jaemin exclaimed. "Which one's the good one?" You ask him only to have been receiving a weird reply from him. At first, he stammered a bit, and then let out. "Not like you're gonna go and dance with pom-poms inside your tummy to cheer them up. Do you even know how much Jaehyun exaggerated it?" He immediately changed the subject. He kept on talking, and indistinct sounds entered in your ears as you were in your own world, lost, thinking something. Although a smile did appear on your face upon hearing Jaehyun's name, and how he'd taken care of you. He was the best colleague ever, and you had your own little crush on him.

"J-Jaemin?"

"Yes?"

"I really need to clean up my bedroom. You've witnessed how soiled it is. Would you mind doing that for me?"

"While you will...?"

"...Watch the telly?"

......

"Alright, JUST because you're sick. Keep in mind I don't really be so kind to people like you. I hate those years when you're in your twenties. A big judgmental couch potato stuck to your screen."

"Well, you are in your twenties?" You replied after calculating a bit. "Not for long." Jaemin replied. "A decade passes like this." He snapped his fingers to indicate how the years pass, and you seemed to be fascinated with his answers. You knew the old Jaemin, the one that used to bully you in high school, but this one seems interesting. Feels like he's gotten over the series of unfortunate events that you both went across. His aura was different. The kind that would make you jump into his personality's fathomless ocean, and plunge into it. Somehow, he made you feel like he had changed a bit, but at the same time likewise the old Jaemin. The days you spent together, the fights both of you had, all those memories kept haunting you. You never forgot what he meant to you. "Earth to Y/N?" Jaemin snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back at the tattooed man. "I'm not going to clean up your room." "What?!?! Why?!?" You stood and stared at the air, thinking what happened to your voice. It got harder, huskier, a sense of cough in it. Before you knew it, you were coughing your lungs out like crazy, and that just made Jaemin panic. He started going around in circles, and you immediately asked him to bring water because you knew he wasn't going to do that on his own. "Alright, shh calm down. Relax. Here's your pill. Have it and take rest." Jaemin shortly laid you on the bed after that. His face was on top of yours, and he was about to get your medicines to you, when you felt it coming. You were about to cough. You were trying your best to control it, but Jaemin wouldn't stop lecturing you on relaxing.

Bam.

"UGH!! GROSS Y/N!!!!!!" Jaemin's face was a masterpiece from down where you were looking from. After a couple- err well a lot of 'ewws', 'ughs', 'you're so damn gross' , 'who would want to even take care of you', he finally calmed down.

"What kind of person coughs on the face of their own caretakers?" Jaemin asked after wiping his face for the tenth time. "Face-cougher." You were all giggly and jolly before hearing that name. "Excuse me?" You said. "What's wrong, Face-cougher?" You did not like the new nickname. "You did not call me that." "Yes I just did, face-cougher." Jaemin replies and you are not staying quiet in this. "Y/N is a face-cougher!! Face-cougher!!" Jaemin started teasing and that's all you were taking.

Another bam.

And it isn't good this time too.

This time, you landed right on Jaemin. He put the couch cushions for his defense, but the anger inside you told you to throw the cushion and throttle him right away. And you decided to do that. Of course, not the whole 'throttling' part. He was quick enough to find another good defense. This one was a vessel, the one he decided to cook pasta for you in, but that never progressed further more than deciding. So, physically preparing yourself, you grabbed the spatula and dashed towards Jeno. A thought tingled inside you and you tried to push it away, but it forced you to look at it.

You're sick, Y/N.

You almost forgot about that. Your body was filled with a wave of energy to fight back. This thought didn't last too long, and not before you're outta the dreamy world and back at Jaemin. You were right above him right now. Jaemin immediately used his defense, the closed side facing towards you. You hit the vessel making a loud noise, and it sort of felt that you were getting your panic attack again. It hadn't been a long time since you knew that your spatula wouldn't last against his vessel and now you didn't even have the time to go and change again. He took the advantage of your a-bit-too-late-realization and pounced over you. "Damn it! Is this how girls are when they're sick?!?! Oh pity those male doctors!!" It was kinda weird to hear these things from a guy's mouth, but you knew what an anti-girl person Jaemin was. It reminded you of your colleague Jungkook, who had the same behavior towards girls. Jaemin's arm slipped over, and he landed right on you. There was a worried expression on his face, to get close to you again, a fear of whether you might 'bam' him or not again. He immediately held you for support, but your body was doing nothing other than feeling weak- no mood to stay strong, so you got pulled away with Jaemin. He landed on ground with his back facing it, and had you in a such a position that his body was pressed against yours. Jaemin's face was centimeters apart from yours, and it reminded you of this days when he used to hold you this close. You both stayed still in the moment, processing what just happened. He waited a while, before he stretched out his hand to cup your face. He stroked your skin with his soft hands, a feeling of shiver running down your spine. "Everything's still the same, Y/N." Jaemin muttered. "I'll be here."

"Alright, have this, you'll be fine within half an hour." Jaemin gave you a huge tablet. "Are you sure?" You asked, nervousness filling you up. "Yes, the doctor's prescribed it.'' After having the medicine, you had a nice sleep while He cleaned up your room, and you woke up around six. "Morning, sleeping beauty." Jaemin's voice was heard across the room. Its like he knew that you were going to wake up right at this moment. Freaky how he does that.

Does he have to get back the flirting mode on? You rub your eyes, and try to get up, but due to the weakness inside, you fall back. Jaemin immediately notices and rushes towards you. "Does the medicine make you feel any better?" He asks, a caring tone occupying his voice. He puts his hand under your waist and tries to get you up, the bridal style. "What are you doing!? Move!" You shove his hand away, a stiffness taking shield over your body. "What? I was helping you get up." You saw the innocence in his voice and calmed down a bit. "It's alright, I can handle that."

He gives you a perplexed look and turns to the soft toy in his hand. "Alright, but I must admit, you have a great soft toy collection." Jaemin faces you again, this time with puppy eyes.

"NO. You're not going anywhere with Dolphie. Keep it back."

He turns towards the shelf while mumbling something to himself.

...

"HEY! I'M NOT A MEANIE!"

Jaemin left the dolphin on the shelf and your eyes were forced to shift their gaze towards the whole room. It was way cleaner than you could ever keep it. Everything was finally clean, not dust-coated as it used to stay. Your study table attracted your attention- looking brand new, as if it were just made yesterday. Jaemin must have some experience of helping old age people with their stuff back at his old house. "Wow. It's... pretty." You complimented his efforts. He smiles to you and lays over your bed. "You have pretty great stuff."

"I liked your journal the best."

You felt like throwing yourself outside the window. Or, it might be great to take him in too so he doesn't go around telling everybody about your crushes. "Literally, Y/N," You weren't prepared for what's next. What's he going to reveal? The time you crushed on your math teacher? Or when you imagined a boy naked? But what came out was way worse than all of the book.

"You had a wet dream with me?"

Oh no. Out of all of it this one was what he asked? The tension on your face rose up, blood rushing up to your cheeks. He looked at you and smirked. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I've read all of it." You couldn't handle a second before you smashed a pillow right at him. He took it by surprise, and actually got hit by the pillows. "Do girls hit people when they're shy?"

Crackhead.

A thought rose up in your mind. "Yes. They do. And if you get them too shy they might even stab you." Jaemin mocked a scared look on his face and then went, "Heh. You and your stupid girl jokes." You quickly needed something against him... a secret, maybe. You try to recall something embarrassing that he told you, and it strikes faster than you thought.

"I think you might die."

Jaemin's face was left expressionless, "Oh, all because I read your journal and now you're gonna stab me?"

"Close, but not exact."

Before you could tell him the exact reason why he might die, he pulls out a pink book, and turns out, it's nothing but your journal.

"Y/N-" Before any word could come out of that beautiful mouth of this crackhead, you reach out to grab the book from his hands. It seems like he doesn't even want to try, and you have the book in your hands within a flash.

You keep the book with you, hugging it as tight as possible, so that even if he tries to make a grab at it, he would fail. He lays down on your bed, the body-fit shirt hugging him tight. It seemed like his mood had completely changed. He chuckles, "You're still the same, you know? Nothing has changed." He held out your hand. Was he trying to change the topic?

You try to indulge into the conversation, asking "How? Everything has changed over the last decade."

Jaemin had changed completely, and that fact made you think that he would feel the same towards you. You saw a sense of maturity, more of responsibility in him. Ever since both of you separated, it had been hard to move on, every day and night spent in grief. But as usual, life strung the both of you along with it, and you both followed. You suddenly had flashbacks, that night in the club, the pool party... you immediately shook your head, wanting to forget all of the embarrassing moments of your life.

"Y/N, You know that the meeting's tomorrow, right?" Jaemin's face grew serious. "Do you have any idea how you're going to manage?" There was a tone of worriedness in his words. "C'mon! I almost became your wrestle buddy! I can handle it!! I'll just gulp down some of my medicines, and I'll be okay." Your conditions were streets ahead after you got some sleep. Everything felt finer, specially when you woke up to the perfect sight of the room you never had. You played with Jaemin's fingers and then reached out for his arms. You assured him, "Everything's going to be fine, only if I can control myself for puking on you." Not being able to control yourself, you giggled at Jaemin's widened eyes.

"I'm going to wear plastic on me then." You burst out into fits of laughter, "Like JYP?" Jaemin smiled upon you, "Yes."

After all of this, you were sure the trip would be fun, and you probably won't upload the next season of hunger games.

[bokutouch]

Hi!!! I was wondering if I could get an eternal matchup pls??

- my names Olivia and I’m 17.

- I go by she/her pronouns and I want to be matched with a male character from Haikyuu!! please.

- My birthday is January 6th, 2004 and I’m a Capricorn Sun, Cancer Moon, and Libra Rising (my Mercury is in Sagittarius, my Venus is in Aquarius, and my Mars is in Aries if you wanted to know the rest).

- I’m 5’2, I have brownish-red hair and blue eyes.

- I spend a lot of time doing school work because I’m really driven by it and I’ve had good grades a majority of high school. When I’m not doing schoolwork I enjoy listening to music or going on a walk! I really like going on sunrise/sunset walks bc they’re always really pretty! I try to do community service in my free time because I really enjoy helping others out. I'm currently a summer camp counselor but I hope to be a lab tech one day :)

- If I were to go on a date with a partner I don't really mind what we do, but I like book dates, movie dates, and especially museum dates!! In a partner I'm looking for someone who shares the same interests as me, is kind, has a good sense of humor, and most importantly can understand and work through my emotions with me. I get really bad mood changes so if he can work with me through that I really value it. My love languages are acts of service and quality time.

- I think that one of my fatal flaws is that although I appear kind and respectful when I’m out in public, I have pretty severe anxiety, depression, and anger issues so I struggle with that a lot. I also get really defensive and stubborn when someone says something that annoys me so i kinda never stop talking lol.

- To finish off I’m an ISFP and Enneagram Type 9v1.

- I hope you have a great day! Ty if you do this! ❤

Hello olivia, thanks for coming to my brand new rocket ship!! 🚀

first of all I apologize bcs I'm not really educated about astrology,

so I'll just use your other description as best as I could okay??

I SHIP YOU WITH AKAASHI KEIJI!

"why akaashi?" you might askㅡ

first of all, some part of you reminded me of bokuto.

and some part of you definitely reminded akaashi of bokuto too. it's not a bad thing really.

Akaashi looks at you and think, "ah, she is my home."

because "home" supposed to be comfortable, because home supposed to be familiar. Being with you bring him peace. You are his home, his tranquility, his safe haven.

Most people told him, "God- you are such a boring person, Akaashi." and as the time goes by, he is starting to believe that tooㅡ but thats until you come into his life.

You're one of his classmate. And not gonna lie, at first akaashi only know you as the quiet girl who always buried her nose in books. "If I am boring, she must be a lot more boring than me." that's what he thought of you, bcs really everytime he sees you, its always you and your books. He understands the importance of having good grades, but should you really be doing that everyday?

The first time you two have a really long talk was when one day akaashi saw you still sitting inside your shared classroom, all alone bcs it's almost 6 pm and of course everybody left already. Nose buried deep in books like you always do, but this time he could hear you humming a song- it's a song that he also enjoyed listening to. He never sing in front of other people before, but for some reason he wanted to join your little secret concert at that time, so he did. He sing along to your little hummingㅡ 1 song turn into 2, turn into 3, and you still didn't notice him at all. He laughed a little because "what's so interesting in that clinical laboratory science book that she doesn't even realized I've been here for almost 10 minutes already."

He tapped your shoulder two times, and you jumped at that.

"H-hey? Um, sorry, I just.. I've been waiting here for you to finally notice me but I guess that book is really interesting, huh?" he smiled at you, feeling a little bad after seeing your reaction at his little tap tap on your shoulder.

"Oh, yes... I want to be a lab tech in the future, so um you know, just preparing." you awkwardly smiled back at him.

"Well, uh.. I know you definitely going to be an amazing lab tech one day. I saw you reading tons of books related to that job everyday in class, so... I believe your hardwork will be paid off."

"wait... that was so nice of him." you stared at akaashi who's currently fidgeting with his fingers.

"Thank you for saying that, Akaashi. That really means a lot to me. People have been telling me that my dream job is just that, a dream. Hearing you saying that someday my hardwork will be paid off really motivate me to prove them wrong. I swear I'm gonna rub it on their face once I got the job." you grins at him.

And at that, Akaashi heart beating a little bit faster than the usual. Was it your thankful speech for him? Was it your cute little grin? He doesn't really knowㅡ one thing he knows for sure though, he wants to keep talking to you. From today, tomorrow, and as long as you would let him.

"Hey, uh... it's going to get dark soon. Do you maybe want to go home together with me?"

You could see how nervous akaashi was after asking you that question, so you just nods and start fixing your books into your bag. Right before you zip up your bag, you remembered the main reason you are still in the classroom at that hour is because you were planning to see the sunset on your way back home, "Wait Akaashi, I actually want to see the sunset today..."

"Oh? I usually go home as the sun set due to my volleyball practice. The sight look really pretty if you see it from on top of the hills behind our school. Do you want to go there? I can show you the best spot."

Of course you accept his offer enthusiastically. So yes, that day is the beginning of your friends to lovers type of relationship with Akaashi.

Akaashi confessed to you first.

His friend circle are full of annoying people. They all be like,

"COME ON AKAASHI!! CONFESS YOUR UNDYING LOVE TO OLIVIA ALREADY."

"AKAASHI, DO YOU WANT TO SEE OTHER GUY SNATCH HER UP? HUH? ANSWER ME. AKAASHI!! AKAASHI!! WAIT UP!! "

"AKAASHI, WHAT IF OLIVIA DECIDED TO FALL FOR SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE YOU ARE BEING SUCH A PUSSY AND WON'T CONFESS TO HER?"

"AKAASHI THIS" "AKAASHI THAT" "AKAASHI" "AKAASHI"

so during your usual study date day, he just decided to straight up ask you to be his girlfriend.

"W-what?" you just sat there for a whole minute because... what if things gonna feel different once you two put a real label to your not so friendly friendship? What if being friends with Akaashi is a lot more better than being his girlfriend? What if he ended up leaving you because he doesn't like the real you? There are so many ugly things that you hide from him, would he still love you the same after seeing all those imperfection? so many what if(s) going inside of your head, so little time to actually process each one of it.

"Umm, you can say no, you know...." all the messy thoughts inside your head stopped right away after hearing that.

"NO! wait, Keiji- I mean, not no to be your girlfriend, its no to me saying no to be your girlfriend." God, its hard to be in love. You can't control your heart, your brain, and now your tongue. God bless your soul, olivia.

"So.... is that a yes to be my girlfriend then?" Akaashi looks really small in that moment. He is still not sure if he can finally kiss you or not. Only being a friend to you for these past 6 months kept him from doing a lot of romantic stuff with you. Kissing you, holding your hands for no reason, hugging you any time he wants to, actually go on a study date with you instead of a childish study day. So now he really won't waste a single time if you answer his previous question with a "Yes" ;

After having a long talk about your imperfections, all your insecurities, and also tons of frustrated tears coming from your eyes, you finally say yes and there you have your new title as Akaashi Keiji's new girlfriend. He definitely got his long waited kiss from you too 🌻.

HEADCANON(s)!!

Bokuto once joined you and akaashi's museum date and he broke a statue hand after trying to handshake the statue. He grabbed the broken hand and show it to you and akaashi with teary eyes. Can't do nothing but running for your life and never comeback to that one particular museum 😭

You and Akaashi have the same love language, "Act of Service" ; So the two of you enjoy giving each other little massage here and there.

Just like you, Akaashi love being helpful for others too, so he really enjoyed the time he spent accompanying you to all your community service agendas. People that you two have been helping together ship you guys so much, especially the elderly couple. They keep saying "You two will make it until old days like us two."

After a long time dating eachother, you two decided to adopt a cute siberian husky that you named "Bobo". Akaashi rejected that name at first, because "Honestly love, I don't like how you picked a name so close to Bokuto's name. Our dog deserves better." You gasped at that, "How dare you, Keiji. This is our son! And his name is Bobo. I don't take no for an answer."

RUNNER UP(s) !!

OSAMU MIYA

SAWAMURA DAICHI

SHINSUKE KITA

alright this getting too long haha.

I hope you enjoy the results, love 🦋

[reader86]

I enjoyed every moment of interaction Hordak with Imp. In my opinion, their relationship is similar to that of an older brother and a younger one. I don’t know, is it a fact or theory that the Imp is an unsuccessful clone of Hordak, but I agree with that. As a result of Hordak’s imperfect work on his own genome (probably due to the fact that his genome is defective), Imp doesn't develop, doesn't grow, doesn't talk, and has the intellect of a child. Nevertheless, the difference between the relationship of Hordak to Imp and Hord Prime to Hordak is so significant. And if Hordak is emotionally vulnerable, capable of affection and trust, then Hord Prime doesn't know how to love, has no affection (at least for the moment) and does not have compassion. But back to Imp. Imp serves Hordak for certain purposes (namely, internal espionage), but this did not happen immediately. I think when Imp was born, Hordak left him only because he is more like his brothers than anyone else on Etheria. He was a living representative of his species and then, as time passed, Imp became the only one for Hordak whom he trusted and who were in an emotional bond with him.

The first appearance of Imp. He sits on Hordak’s lap. Not on the floor, not near the feet. He jumps on Hordak without any fear and settles down there, very pleased with himself.

For Hordak, who is trying to match the gloomy imperious character of the Hord Prime, such an open manifestation of friendliness and affection is very strange. Especially in front of his subordinates, whom he wants to intimidate. It seems to me that everyone in the Horde thinks that this is his real son.

Imp is happy when he successfully fulfills the orders of Hordak.

Trying to be as formidable as an older brother

My favorite Hordak + Imp moment.

Hordak believes that, here it is, at last the portal will work, and Imp nearby also rejoices at his success. But then the portal machine explodes and Imp, feeling quite relaxed when no one is around, even makes fun of his brother. And notice how Hordak pushes Imp from the shoulder without any aggression (I would even say pretty gently). In general, Hordak never shows aggression to Imp as such. I see this scene like this: you are doing a serious job, and your little brother is spinning next. And when something doesn’t work out for you, and you are annoyed ... and confess who have younger brothers and sisters .. They like to see us unhappy, they can laugh and run mockingly from us, but they really do not wish us any harm. Kids just like to see our sullen face for some reason.

And then the demon copies the voice of Hordak “Useless”, and apparently represents himself big and formidable. It reminds me a bit of the moment when Simba was trying to learn how to growl like Mufasa.

Imp clearly does not like Catra and he does not hide his discontent. He tries to make her feel awkward, and also does not show any negative emotions when Hordak tortures Catra with his suffocating machine.

I think this is due to the fact that Hordak himself does not like Catra. Little spy more often saw Catra, heard and watched her actions and conversations, and he also knows about Hordak's vulnerable body, and I think Imp believes that Catra is bad. At least in his value system. He understands that Catra is ambitious and cunning enough to pose a real threat to Hordak's hierarchical position.

The first real interaction between Imp and Entrapta. I love the way they interact with Entrapta the same way. At first, he is furious as well as Hordak.

Then also embarrassed and interested in this.

And when he takes the screwdriver away from her, it’s more like as fun than threat and anger. Imp is insightful and immediately understands that Entrapta is not dangerous to them.

And of course, I as Entrapdak’s shipper, was very happy when Imp took Entrapta into the family circle and protected her and Hordak from the intervention of Catra.

Next time we see the whole “family” already in the 3 season. Both Hordak and Imp feel are comfortable with Entrapta. Imp agrees with Entrapta when she says that this was only the first test, and then protects and leads her away when he realizes that Hordak is too angry to reason sensibly and logically.

It is noteworthy that when Entrapta first sees Hordak without armor and he is angry and tells her to get out, there is no anger or aggression on the face of Imp. He is at a loss, but knows (I think, like Hordak) that she is not dangerous. Imp in his attitude to people relies on Hordak, but next to Entrapta he can show his own emotions, he is guided by his observations and knows that the princess cannot harm Hordak or him.

He only shows concern when Hordak falls.

Hordak doesn't eat soup prepared by Entrapta, but still, like a caring brother, offers it to Imp. I mean, he didn’t throw the tray away and didn't sent her to hell. Hordak, realizing that she makes it for him, does not want her work to be wasted. Of course, this does not negate the fact that Entrapta does not know how to cook, but all this is pretty sweet.

I like how Hordak and Imp look at each other in a silent question.

The beautiful scene where Hordak is surrounded by his associates, creatures whom he fully trusts and feels affection. And how Imp admires Entrapta and copies how she sits cross-legged.

And of course, this scene, beloved by all, when Imp kicks (!) Hordak, when he, in his opinion, did not speak well enough about the technical improvement of the armor.

This is all so significant for all three (+ Emily, of course). They all feel relaxed, comfortable with each other, Hordak allows himself to be vulnerable and grateful, Imp feels independent and confident, even when there are other creatures nearby, and Entrapta sees how much they appreciates her efforts and how it REALLY makes Hordak's life better.

In season 4, when they re-exist without Entrapta and their fraternal relations have returned to their usual rut. The demon makes fun of Hordak, but now Hordak is more angry, because losing a woman is a more personal problem for him than a broken portal. Imp also does not like Catra and copies the behavior and attitude of Hordak to strangers. For example, distrust, but also tacit agreement with the presence of Double Trouble.

I very hope for more interaction between Imp and Entrapta in the new season. This kid should get more screen time. And they must save Hordak.

[damnusillygoose]

Jerza fanfiction(Fluff)

Title: Some insecurities to overcome

summary: Erza has some insecurities. Can Jellal help her overcome them?

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Hiro sensei

'Mira, listen. I think I am overdoing it but I can't stop.'

'I know right? A woman cannot stop her raging heart inside a shop selling skincare products after all.'

'This is very addictive', Erza grimaced, looking down at the products in her hands, ranging from body lotions to SPF to cleansers to moisturizers. All sorts of products a woman can buy to pamper herself.

'You are finally paying attention to your skincare routine. I wonder who is that lucky man who triggered such a change in you, huh?', Mira smiled in a suggestive manner.

'wh-what makes you think I am doing this for a man?! I am doing it for myself you know-

'Yes, yes feminist, I know. In fact, we all know when you exactly started paying attention towards this department. Especially your hair. Stop trying to divert the topic, will you?

'….'

'Does he make you happy?'

Her eyebrows de-tangled themselves from her frown as her face softened at the mention of the man who held her heart within his. 'He does, Mira. He makes me really happy', she gushed in a barely audible whisper.

'I am going be the "best aunt" to your kids. Mhm, though Meredy could be a potential rival for this title', she rambled.

'M-Mira?! That's- You are going too fast! Slow down! It's been just six months to us, give us a break. I would…love to have a family with him in future but right now, it's too soon and I…. I would like to marry him before that', she stammered and covered her face with her hands, turning red at her confession.

Mira eyed her friend smugly, studying her reaction. Erza truly acted different when Jellal was involved. She would turn into the sweetest cinnamon roll around him. Not that she purposefully acted different in front of him.

Erza felt free when she talked to Jellal. She could act spoiled, flirty, bossy, whatever she wanted. She could act vulnerable in front of him because Jellal was her place of comfort. She could be herself within his arms, he was her childhood sweetheart after all.

'Yes, yes grow as a couple, bloom as a couple. Take your time. You guys don't have to rush anyways. Make up for the time you lost', Mira remarked.

Erza lowered her hands slowly, producing a shy smile. 'Yes, we are making up for the time we lost.'

*****************************************************************************************

Seriously though, skincare was such a hassle. It needs dedication and consistency. You have to be patient. You don't get results overnight. Jellal's face was super soft and absolutely blemish free, no dark spots whatsoever. He didn't even use any special product.

'Greens Erza, greens. Eat your greens. Plus, I don't go snacking on sweets in the middle of the night, you know.'

Erza pressed her lips together in defiance. Cutting out sugar redeemed results when someone is trying to achieve clear skin but that's something she couldn't accomplish, if she were to be honest. Leave it, I will try to compensate in other departments like quality sleep and exercise, she tried to convince herself.

She finished applying her hair mask and tied her hair into a secure bun. She reached for her tea tree scrub, took some of it in her hands and started rubbing it in circular motions on her face.

She rinsed it thoroughly after 2 minutes of exfoliating and entered the bathroom to prepare her bath.

****************************************************************************************

Jellal entered the front gate of their little cottage which they bought just at the outskirts of Magnolia. The location had advantages of its own. They both enjoyed and appreciated scenic beauty away from the clanging energy of the city. They could wake up peacefully, hear the serene chirping of birds, as the soft morning rays would kiss their faces gently. After spending an entire decade fighting battles, they thoroughly appreciated the tranquillity provided amidst nature.

Plus, they could very well use some privacy from media houses because Erza and Jellal's relationship was a hot topic going around in the city. They could take long walks without being pestered by them, flirt and make out whenever they pleased, without the fear of being stalked by them. No one could invade their privacy. It was their personal heaven.

Their friends obviously knew about their location, they came to visit them often.

Team Natsu would often come by to annoy Erza but Jellal knew she loved when they visited and she loved picnics as well, so he tried to create an aesthetic arrangement by adorning the flower pots in their lawn with golden lit fairy lights, situated within the close vicinity of their seating layout. He would switch them on late in the evenings, as they all would watch the sun set while sipping tea, stargazing and laughing with each other. Sometimes, Gray would bring his music speakers and they all would dance and listen to some traditional songs together as the fairy lights embellished their surroundings. Jellal truly enjoyed their company, they were a fun bunch to hang out with.

Crime sorciere was no less. Jellal would often play cricket with them on Sundays and afterwards, they would laze around in his lawn, basking in the sun, as it was the closest place from their playing field.

Jellal would find Erza trying to engage herself with his team and serving them pastries. It would warm his heart immediately when he would see her making attempts to integrate with his people.

'Well, you try to spend time with my friends, I want to know yours as well.'

Not to forget the fact, Erza had taken upon herself to look after Meredy, just like she did for Wendy. She would also do her best to include her in girl's night out and slumber parties. The two of the most important women in Jellal's life became close pretty quickly.

He was grateful to have such an exceptional woman who tried to indulge herself with his life, entwining them together, just like they both were meant to be. He was lucky, he contemplated.

He had gone out to visit Meredy. She had recently rented a place in magnolia and Jellal went to check on her if she needed any assistance.

He closed the door behind him quietly and proceeded to place the groceries he bought in the kitchen. He treaded upstairs to their bedroom and found her sitting in front of her dressing table-applying some lotion on her face, her hair neatly wrapped in a towel.

'I am back.'

'Hey. Everything okay with Meredy?'

'Yes, she is ecstatic to have her own place'

'I see. That's good. I should visit her soon and inform her of some cheap shopping complexes, which offer quality clothing in Magnolia. I love to frequent those with Mira. A woman should have some tricks up in her sleeves.' She replied as a matter of fact.

'I am sure she would be grateful for that', he almost laughed. 'What are you doing?'

'Applying moisturizer'

He sat at the edge of their bed and observed her closely.

'What?', she asked

'Can I help you in drying your hair?'

The corners of her mouth raised on hearing his request. She closed her eyes relishing his adoration for her hair that he named himself.

'Please do', she said as she finished applying her lotion on her face.

They were always like this around each other - content and serene, just like two important halves of a single soul, reunited after treading a long and strenuous journey of self-actualisation. Erza took note of the fact how loved he made her feel even through his tiniest action. Like how he was helping her dry her hair right now.

Jellal, unaware of her musing, took hold of her towel and carefully unwrapped it. Her hair was damp but not dripping wet. He divided them in two partitions and gently started squeezing the excess water out with immense concentration and meticulosity. He repeated the process with the other section as well until he was satisfied with his job. He kept the damp towel aside and ran his hand through the soft and glossy texture of her locks reverently.

Erza felt the tension residing her shoulder muscles leave when she felt his expert hands massage her the nape of her neck firmly. He moved his fingers, tracing her collarbone, bringing her against his chest gently.

'Erza, please remember that you are beautiful. Blemish free or not.' He reminded her, whispering gently in her ears before kissing her cheek lovingly. He held her face softly in his hand and turned her to face him, as they held each other's gaze.

She recently developed a complex regarding her skin not being flawless. Those cursed vogue magazines she picked at a store depicted ladies with blemish free faces. They continued to attack her newfound insecurity.

Jellal often witnessed her groaning while examining her face more than usual in front of the mirror. He saw her reading some magazines where models were photoshopped to an extreme extent, as if they had no skin texture at all. Some didn't even seem human with their body enhancements. It was abhorrent, he felt, to make women insecure regarding something which was naturally unachievable. He just wanted to let her know that he was going to love her no matter what and that outward appearance would never dwindle his feelings which he held for 14 years.

'Thank you Jellal', she took a deep breathe and smiled at him, being grateful for his support. 'I am not hating myself anymore for not having clear skin. Those vogue magazines depict a very unhealthy beauty standard and some women end up hating themselves for not looking that fabulous.'

'You shouldn't read them anymore. I don't want you to feel sad over something unrealistic. You are beautiful the way you are.' He didn't think she knew how beautiful she was in his eyes along with her flaws, especially her flaws.

'I am not, believe me. People are meant to be imperfect after all. That's where the real beauty lies. right?', she replied, meaning every single word she spoke, finally brimming with some self-confidence.

'Come here love, sit between my legs, come', he urged her and she relented by walking towards him. He shifted further along the mattress to make some space for her. She crawled over and seated herself comfortably between his legs and laid her back against his chest. He brought his legs around, boxing her within his hold. She brought her hands up to hold his and leaned into his cheek, sighing contently.

They spent a few moments in this position, simply observing and cherishing the sunrays falling into their room-for warming them up in this cold morning. Their hearts-already warmed up with the love they held for each other.

'Hey sleepyhead', he nudged her mildly when he noticed her blinking in exhaustion, almost ready to fall asleep owing to the cosy atmosphere they created, 'Aren't you hungry? What about breakfast? No- brunch.', he corrected himself when he turned his neck to look at the clock. It was almost 11.30 A.M.

'mhmp...? Oh brunch, right. I almost fell asleep', she chuckled, still slightly drowsy.

'What about strawberry sprinkled donuts glazed with white chocolate?!', she exclaimed ecstatically with her eyes wide open, now fully awake.

Of course, he should have known she would reply something of this sort.

'Sure, but after I feed you some healthy omelettes along with salad consisting of broccoli and beans.'

Jellal was kind of particular about nutrition.

'But those donuts are baked, not fried!', she argued. Apparently eating sweets for breakfast was perfectly healthy in Erza's dictionary.

'You can eat fried as well but after we have our brunch.', he hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. Forget brunch he wanted to eat her right now.

She smiled and rolled her eyes in her apparent defeat.

'Salad it is then.

*****************************************************************************************

A/N: This drabble is also a gentle reminder to all the beautiful ladies out there who feel inferior after browsing through Instagram, looking at those models and wondering why aren't we like them. We are not like them because they themselves do not represent a reality. Instagram is not real, nothing depicted there is. Keep loving yourself and stay hydrated. Do check out my others stories and leave a review if you liked this one. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

link to my profile on fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/~damnyousillygoose

[plethora-of-imagines]

Precious Present

AN: Boxing Day is still Christmas right? Here is another of the Christmassy/winter fic ideas that I thought of this year. I may not have gotten them all out before Christmas but I’m not going to let that stop me! This one uses one of my favorite tropes too.

Word Count: 1977

Warnings: smut/lemon, bondage, cockwarming

Description: You give the Master a present.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You fidgeted and squirmed, unable to significantly move with the way you had bound yourself up. You hadn't thought that the Master would be so long. Then again he had no idea you were even waiting for him. You hopped he entered the room soon otherwise all he would get to do with his unwrapped present would be aftercare. He was very firm about how long you were allowed to be bound and you were quickly approaching that time limit. 

You had wanted to surprise him with your efforts to learn how to properly and safely tie yourself up in bondage. Especially the tricky slip knots that you had worked to learn. It had taken you almost an hour to completely tie yourself up in matte red ribbon. The smooth as silk ribbons laying flat against your skin in crisscrossed patterns. Accentuating your breasts and the rest of your bare skin. Ribbons tightly bound your thighs to your calves, keeping your legs bent. You had filled yourself with a generously lubed dildo and lit candles around yourself on the floor before starting the tricky task of securing your hands behind your back.

You had been waiting for the Master to find you for long enough that the candles were almost burnt out. To be fair they had already been well-used candles. All soft and subtle winter scents that the Master was partial to from his travels. He had given them to you as a present knowing that you adored burning candles. You had gotten a fair bit of use out of them and had figured that they would help set the scene well for him to stumble upon you all wrapped up as a gift for him. The low levels of light would hopefully hide any imperfections in your work when he first saw you. 

You were a little worried that he wouldn’t realize what your intentions were and would instead think you had been practicing and gotten stuck. That would result in a lengthy lecture on proper self-bondage safety. The large bow- almost as large as your head- that you had pinned to your hair would hopefully get your meaning across before he could start to get the wrong idea. And if it didn’t there was also the handwritten tag looped through the ribbon circling your throat to help.

You started to drift off as you waited for either the Master to enter the room or your preset alarm to go off. You would be deeply disappointed if the alarm went off and you had to free yourself, but you didn’t want to hurt yourself either. Your head shot up when you heard the door creaking open. The Master was here! Looking up to see him illuminated by the light from the hallway. A soft smile reached your eyes as you took in the sight of him.

"Is this bondage safe?"

You tried to resist pouting that these were his first words upon seeing you. He would take it as an admission of dangerous actions, and not of disappointment. It was sweet that he cared so much but you had hoped to inspire words of lust. It almost seemed like he wasn’t affected by the sight of you naked and tied up at all.

"Check my arms, Master. They should be tied so that one pull can free them. It took a few hours of practice but I believe I got it correct this time!"

He kneeled down to look at the knots and layered ribbons you had done. You shivered as the cold leather of his gloves gently examined the knots and ribbons more closely. Careful not to tug, less he untie you already.

Hands dropping down to his side he offered soft praise of your work.

"You did a wonderful job, my dear. Your practice has certainly made perfect."

"Thank you, Master!" Eagerly you accepted the scrap of praise.

The Master seemed to consider removing his gloves for a moment before deciding to keep them on while he appreciated the work you had done. Gently his gloved hands trailed across your skin, appreciating the decorative ribbons binding you as a pretty package. Cupping your breasts lightly in his hands.

Lifting the tag tied around your throat with care, he read it aloud.

"To a loving Master, from his dearest love. What a sweet sentiment, my dearest. A precious present such as yourself all for me."

You shivered at his voice, the trill and purr in his words. His voice was always so seductive, so enticing. His hands wandered lower, spreading the ribbons to reveal your cunt. His fingers explored, seemingly intent on entering you before they discovered that you were already filled with a dildo.

“And it appears that your, ahem, ‘stocking has been stuffed’ already so to speak, my dear.”

You squirmed uncomfortably at the phrase. It just sounded so, wrong. Your squirming made you feel the small stretch of the dildo even more as you shifted in just the right way to press the dildo into your vagina’s walls. 

“Please never say that again, Master.”

“So you don’t want to be stuffed full with my cock?” He teased. “Strange, normally you would be eager to have my cock stuffed deep inside of you so you could cockwarm for hours.”

You blushed despite the fact that your compromising position all tied up should leave you with no embarrassment left to be had.

“You're purposely misinterpreting me, Master!” You whined childishly.

“I know, my darling. But how can I be expected to resist teasing you while you are all tied up and can do nothing but squirm in retaliation? Besides, my precious present, the gift giver has no say in what the recipient of the gift does with it. I can tease you until you are as red as the ribbons you used if I so chose.”

He laughed at your face as he scrunched your lips together with his grip on your chin. Releasing your face to brush your hair behind your ear as he admired the sight of you again.

“The bow on your head is a lovely touch. I admit I’m tempted to keep it on you forever to remind the people of the universe that you are a gift from whatever higher powers religious people believe formed the universe.”

You blushed further at his compliment. Smiling shyly at him.

A quick kiss was pressed to the corner of your mouth. Instinctively you leaned forward to follow his lip in hopes of receiving a real kiss. One that fully covered your lips with his own.

You had somehow managed to forget how tied up you were... Your body fell forward as you squeaked in surprise. Landing face first in the Master's lap. With ease, the Master maneuvered you so that you were laying in his lap more comfortably, and much less suffocatingly. Your legs up in the air- still secured thigh to calf.

"What's this?" The Master questioned in a reprimanding tone as he looked closer at the base of the dildo. "Is my precious present guilty of using up some batteries while waiting for me to open her?"

"No! Of course not, Master," you quickly protested. "The dildo is in to prepare me for you so that you can use your present right away if you wish to. The batteries are included for your enjoyment of me, if you wish to use them at all that is."

His hands quickly flicked the vibrator on to full power. You violently twitched at the unexpectedly strong sensations. A loud moan passing through your tightly closed lips.

All at once, the candles went out and the subtle smell of smoke filled the air. 

"Well now, it seems like the perfect time to bring my gift to a much more appropriate location to unwrap."

The Master lifted you into his arms as he stood. Holding you to his side, arms supporting your arse and back. Normally when carried like this you would wrap your arms and legs around him like a child. As tightly bound as you were- that wasn't possible. You were reliant on the Master holding you to keep you from falling. He would never let you fall from his grasp so you had little to worry about. Even so, you still thought about how much trust it showed to let him carry you like this.

Gently placing you on the bed, the Master moved to untie you. Smoothly he unbound your arms from each other. Taking the ribbons still wrapped around your arms and securing them to the side of the bed. The little hooks that were hidden on the bed frame just for this sort of purpose finally being used. Your legs were done next. Faster than you could process the ribbons no longer secured your thighs to your calves. Pushing the ribbons up to your thighs the Master secured them to the same hooks as the others. Leaving your arms and legs spread.

The vibrator was turned off but you didn't so much as murmur in disappointment. You knew that soon you would feel much better than the vibrator had made you feel. 

Hands held your face with reverence. Lips softly meeting yours in a gentle kiss. You sighed in pleasure. Eyes taking in the breathtaking image of the Master hovering above you. The Christmas lights you had begged him to put up around the bed throwing their light onto his body. There was something about the particular glow of Christmas lights that were softer, kinder than other lights. 

"I believe I can understand the appeal of seeing presents underneath a tree now," he softly remarked as he lovingly looked down at you.

"Glad I could persuade you."

He kissed down your skin from your forehead to between your thighs. Biting the tip of his gloves and pulling them off with his teeth as you watched. Your breath hitched as his fingers walked up your thighs to the dildo pressed deep inside of you. Achingly slow he pulled the dildo out of you. You could feel your arousal leaking out when the dildo was completely removed.

You sighed, content as he undressed. A soft ringing interrupting him. He looked at you questioning if you knew the reason for the alarm.

"It was my alarm for the time limit of being bound like I was before," you explained.

"Good girl," he purred. "Make sure to stretch some now, you should have enough slack to properly stretch your limbs."

"Yes, Master."

He finished undressing before he began to unwrap the ribbons around you. Shushing you as you began to protest.

"I'm unwrapping my gift now, my dear. It’s my choice to do so regardless of the alarm."

As the ribbons fell from your body, the Master admired you anew. He seemed slightly disappointed to have to remove the gift tag from your neck. But he smiled mischievously as he tied it to the giant bow still on your head. Chuckling at his antics you knew that it would be a few days before he allowed you to take off the bow. Not that you minded at all.

The Master's hands rubbed circles into your skin anywhere it seemed the ribbons had dug into your skin. Once he had given your body a once over he slowly slid his cock into you. There was still a small amount of stretch that your preparations had not fully prepared you for. Still, it felt nice to feel the Master deep inside of you.

Leaning close he seductively whispered in your ear, voice filled with kind humor, "the cockwarmer you got me is the perfect size, my dear. I'll have to make sure to use it often."

You giggled in amusement. Giddy to have so pleasantly surprised him.

“Of course, Master. Any time you want.”

[iamcath]

You and Your one Kita Shinsuke

It’s quite a surprise and it still amazes you when you start dating one, Kita Shinsuke. You still feel like it was just yesterday when you saw him smile for the first time. It was during your senior year at Inarizaki High.

Kita was not a kind of person who would openly smile at anyone which made him a peerless elite if one might say but that didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar. Some of your friends will ask you ‘why? Why him?’ saying how there's a lot of guys who are much more attractive and friendlier than him but you simply answered them with, “Why not?”. It’s not like you're so pretty to choose whoever you want and even if you are, you would certainly choose Kita over and over again.

This choice happened when you were running in wanting to catch up with your teacher so that you could hand in your report but your lizard brain didn’t think that you might end up injured if you hadn't avoided the wall and landed on it. Instead you bumped to someone who you didn't notice walking along the same path as you earlier. You thought you would fall but when you opened your eyes, you saw this person. It happened so fast and all that you can remember was him holding your waist, preventing you from falling off the ground.

You get so flustered and embarrassed, pulling yourself away, bowing your head when you realize who this person is. It’s Kita Shinsuke from class 3-7, the student who achieved excellent scores in all of his test papers and school activities. The honor student, Kita Shinsuke. “I’m so sorry! Kita-san. I didn’t see you... I was-” you stutter explained.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, face still wearing his usual stiff expressionless self but you had the chance to look at him in his eyes. Not to brag about it, but you know how to read one person’s personality just by looking at them in the eyes and you know that instant, Kita is a nice and dependable type of guy. You shook your head and apologized for the trouble that you caused him.

He shakes his head saying that you didn’t trouble him but he reminded you not to run within the vicinity of the school ground as it may lead you to an accident like this. You bowed your head again stating how sorry you are and you will absolutely take note of this.

And for the first time, you saw that smile. That smile that will change how you see him, a smile that will change your perspective about him. As he walks away, your lips curve into a smile with flushed cheeks as you say to yourself, ‘Kita-san, sure is nice..’

From there, you always made sure that you watched every game that the volleyball team had. It doesn’t matter if it was just a practice or an exhibition game. Although Kita rarely enters the court to play, you know that he, as the captain, really boosts the team's confidence. Kita’s presence is something else. Like a talisman or a good luck charm(but only you would think this) because you know and heard some members of the team talking about how strict he was as a captain. Kita is the only person who can make everyone get their shit together inside and outside of the court. He started noticing you when he saw you cheering at the bleachers. You cheered so loud for him, of course it would be too hard not to notice you. You blushed the hell out of you, when your eyes and his eyes met and your heart almost jumped out of your chest when he gave you that smile again. The kind of smile that he gives when you are around that you almost thought that’s the smile he only wears only for you.

The two of you, as if natural, get closer to each other. He made sure that you wouldn’t skip lunch and even help you out with your failing grades. If you get lucky enough, he will walk with you to your house just to make sure you are safe. Kita Shinsuke is perfect and nobody could tell you otherwise. He’s perfect regardless of what other people say.

Everyone would be so jealous and envious of you if they were given a chance to take a peek of that smile that Kita let out every time you tell him how handsome he was or to hear him laugh when you tell him the crappiest joke but you would never gonna allow anyone to see and hear that. You are selfish even though you can’t call him ‘mine’.

“Why are you so mad today? Did I do something wrong?” Kita asked you. You have been hella annoyed when you saw him accepting another girl’s gift earlier. It’s Valentine's day and you want him to stand still and do nothing at all but to accept your homemade chocolate that you took all night to prepare. And to think that you have been waiting for him for exactly 15 minutes just to see him accepting someone’s chocolate … He's gonna be kidding you.. You are so pissed and decided to let him be.

Although Kita is a very smart, nice and dependable kind of guy, he could also be the stupidest guy ever in the whole wide world. (at least not on academically or being street wise stupid.) The guy is just too dense, to not be able to tell and understand how you feel. Should you try to put it out into words? Nah, scrap that. You can’t even look him straight in the eyes without getting so flustered. You look so red all over your face as you fidget your fingers and he actually mistook it as a fever that he carried you on his back and wouldn’t put you down despite you telling him to do so. He’s just too stupid like that sometimes, that you wanted to smack him down already.

“Nothing.. Go and talk to the girl who has given you that chocolate earlier. Sorry for disturbing your precious time.” you sarcastically answer, pouting your lips, rolling your eyes as you shrug your shoulders.

Kita covered his mouth and looked away from you in an attempt to hold his laughter back. You squint your eyes hard so hard on him as you can’t believe that he actually finds something funny in your annoyances, “Are you laughing at me just now? Wow Shinsuke-kun.”

You don’t call him by his given name but you usually call him with your made up nickname just for him, it could be ‘Shin-shin’ or could be ‘Shinkin’ and if you called him ‘Shinsuke’, that could only mean one thing.. You are mad and already planning on how to kill him.

You huff your cheeks and about to walk out on him when he grabbed your arms and hugged you as he says, “Calm down will ya? It’s not for me.. The girl you saw earlier requested that I give her chocolates to Aran-kun. I’m sorry for laughing okay? I’m actually waiting for you the entire day..”

Your head is spinning that you almost wanted to faint as your heart skips a beat. You wanted to say something but it seems like no words can escape your lips. You have been waiting for this but you anticipated that Kita would actually do something like this to you.

He pulls away slowly as he gives you that smile, that smile that you know is just for you., “So, Can I have my chocolate now?”

“Only because you insist!.” you yelled, trying to hide your flustered face as you handed him the box of chocolates. You finally decided that today will be the day you gonna make him yours. You straighten your posture as your gulp to finally say the words that you have meaning to say to him, “Shin-kun.. I like you..”.

You finally said it, bowing your head as you didn’t want him to see your face. It was so red that it practically showed steam over your head. Your nervous heart can’t take the silence anymore, what were you thinking anyway? There’s no way one Kita Shinsuke could like you back. He’s just nice that he puts up with you all this time.. You are just stupid to think that it was something.. You were about to cry when he touched your face, pulling your chin back up..

And you were a little surprised when you saw his face probably mirroring the same face as you had but he never took his stares away from you, “Don’t you cry at me now.. Whatever you were thinking, that’s not it.. You caught me a little off guard that’s why I couldn’t say anything but.. I also wanted to say something to you.. For a little while now… I like you.. I always have, ever since the day I first saw you. So.. Will you go out with me?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck, nervously waiting for your answer.

You never saw him get nervous before as he always says that there’s nothing to be nervous about with the things you usually do daily. So seeing him like this, you knew that he never did this before and this is the first time he said something like this.

You giggled and smiled at him, “Okay.. I’ll do you a favor… I’ll go out with you.” you said which made him smile right back at you and that is how you got yourself one ‘Kita Shinsuke’.

Your body still aches from delivering your new born baby and just opening your eyes with the view that you would love to look at for the rest of your life. It’s been seven years already after that day and you still can’t believe that the man in front of you, who is now cradling your baby in his arms, is the father of your child and your husband.

When Kita noticed you were awake, he approached you slowly, trying not to wake up your son who already looks like him and took a seat beside you on your hospital bed, “You did a great job love, just look how perfect this tiny human is. Thank you for making me the luckiest and the happiest man in the entire world.” he said, tears falling in his eyes.

You wipe it away with your hand, slightly gazing at your ring finger where your wedding ring shines, as you said, “You will be a great father to our baby as you are a great husband to me. Thank you for making me the luckiest and happiest woman in the entire world.”

With those words that bring comfort to your other half, you knew how imperfect Kita was and even though he's not perfect as other people proclaimed him to be, you wouldn’t change anything.. Because for you… He’s imperfect but he’s your Kita Shinsuke.

[funkymbtifiction]

Si-Te or maybe just Si-dom in general

Well… Since there is one for Ti-Se, I think sharing how Si-Te works might be a nice idea. Disclaimer, it’s not pretty. It’s not wonderful. Si-Te can be a pain but it also is an asset. I want to share it to you guys the reality of being an ISTJ. I’m not here to debunk any myth. I’m only saying it as it is to me… So, let’s go, shall we?

First, what is Si-Te. If I would describe it, it is a slow-starting stallion. In my experience (it might vary between every ISTJ out there), before I can ever do anything well, I need shitload of trials and errors. I cannot really innovate or running on the flow. I need to learn thing from the very smallest piece and slowly piecing it all together into a full picture. It’s incremental, it takes time and it’s seriously slow.

The process of learning through slowly adjusting and experimenting every route possible – especially if there is no one to guide you at all – leads to internalization exactly what I perceive of that knowledge. It imprints clearly in your mind that you can pick it up as it is years later. It becomes a picture in your mind of what is the ‘truth’. The accumulated experience that rinsed up into a pack of worldview of how the world works. Every Si-users are different and each of us perceives and rinse different information into their own unique brand of world view. But it shares the same theme ‘experience from repeated trials and errors that can be pulled out in times of need’. It is what you might called ‘wisdom’ or ‘lore’. Think about some specialists who know everything about the woodland and all stories and beliefs related to each component. That’s high Si. 

When it comes to Si it must be followed by Te. Te is not just about fact and organization. It is about seeing ‘tangible’ and ‘measurable’ potential in given information and how to apply it. It is when you see some gall bringing in gold dust from a stream behind your house and immediately realize you can make a gold rush out of that stream. For me, Te is a useful tool to accomplish things in the real world. It’s a tool to apply your experience in a real problem solving and both Si and Te are working together though Si sorts of controlling Te thus, Te is limited by Si-internalized knowledge. So, the way Si and Te working together in very simplified term is ‘organizing the real world based on my knowledge of how the world works’.

Other theme I can think of that is actually Si but is typically mistook for Ni is mythology making. You see, for Si users, everything has a story attached to it. Every knowledge, everything has its own mythology and story embedded within. This will be a bit odd. I have some knowledge on traditional massage and medicine. Even if I don’t remember them word by word. In the end, I find myself having story of reference to every component of my knowledge. Like, I know how to massage. My friend asked me how do I know that I need to start from shoulder to hand and pull fingers. My first instinct is, because body is a stream. In my head, human body is like a stream that fall from top to bottom. Each nerve is a path way that is connected so when one massaged it is precisely tampering with the pathway itself. The pain or ache are a result of stagnant in pathway so one need to clear it downstream and open some ‘tunnel’ like one near the base of the hand to open the blood flow. See? It’s not verbatim fact. It is the experience accumulated into a picture, a story. I can’t even remember where I learn it tbh. It comes from so many sources. (Oh, and I told my friend, ‘body is like a waterfall, it starts from the top’). But I know it’s a fact because I can do it. See?

One example I want to share is when I reference my knowledge on field-working. I study Anthropology and field-working is a frequent event. Typically, my chosen field is ethnic groups thus I will often find myself in the village of some ethnic community. Like … my latest field is last week’s Urak Lawoi’ village in the south. The place is a community of Urak Lawoi’ people and in general they are quite distinct in belief systems to Thai people. They believe in spirits but much more internal than Thai people so … yeah, you get the picture.

When I got there, I first self-referenced back to my survey trip. I referenced back to the people I knew from the last trip and contacted them. Then I proceeded to talk to them (actually I organize the trip for my project, so there’s total 27 people there but I’ll focus more on my fieldwork rather than the organization itself). I recounted the information I learned last time, I referenced stories I heard last time. Things went on. Then, I brought my teammates to the dam uphill. It’s around 1 km. from the village up in the mountain. I can remember the way to the smallest details. I recounted my experience last time (like almost getting lost up the mountain before coming down to the correct turn) and tell them the story of what this place was used. It was a place used to prepare woods for boat-making ritual, there’s even some wood bark left. And I guided them to the stream behind the wood. Last time I went here I can remember it was very refreshing. Then I guided them up hill. Last time I struggled a lot, but this time I just knew where to step and how to speed up. I learned from the last time I came here. Soon, after we walked up and down a hill, we arrived at the dam. I could recall the refreshing wind and so on.

Then, a day later, I went to the ‘pléw’ or the graveyard. I needed to see the place because my project was about who this people are and because I needed to know more about their belief system. So, I went. But before I went, I told my team “Only 2 or 3 people please. And if we get there, be respectful toward the dead, don’t shout, don’t joke around, ok?” for me, it has been internalized that the place was for the dead. I must be respectful and quiet around the place. Because the dead are resting. It’s been like a ‘teaching’ in my head “Be respectful in that place”. Then I went there with some of my teammates. Before I get down to the graveyard, I stopped and asked for the dead’s permission first. It was just something I knew I needed to do. Then I went down. After that, when I climbed up, I crossed the line in my mind and walked over it. I remembered that to Urak Lawoi’s before one stepped up from the ‘other world’ like in Pracak ceremony where they sent their ancestors on a boat down the sea. They will draw line on the sand and walk over it to cross back to living world. I did precisely that, only in my mind. I learned from my Grandmother (she studied these things) that ‘you don’t need to actually do it, but do it in your mind intently enough you can feel it. The dead can sense it, too’. And I did just that. Because it was what should be done. Other thing was language, I soaked it up like sponge. Just two or three days I can understand what they are talking though I still cannot speak competently (I referenced it back to Bahasa Indonesia, it is closely related language) And list went on…

Good things aside, I want to mention how I fail gigantically to organize the project. I don’t know how to fix many unexpected problems because frankly I didn’t know what to do. Now I’m making up for my mistakes. It was a biggest downside of being Si-dom for me. This is my mistake, individually and I will not blame my type. I don’t know how to fix something I’ve never encountered before. But I needed to learn and I’m learning from my mistake and don’t repeat the same mistake again. The mistake here piled up so high that now I lost my friends and many people. It pained me so much just why cannot I be smarter, quicker to catch on things or react faster and sharper to the problems. But it was all because of my arrogance that I failed. I was too secretive and too in my head. Instead of consulting people, instead of letting people have freedom. I over controlled and pulled everything to myself. I chilled me to my bone, thinking back. Right now, I tried to open myself up more and giving people freedom to create. It is incredibly hard but I am trying my best to do it, to fix it and be a better person.

So, here I am. That’s something I want to share. Being Si-dom is not fun. I’m slow, I need a lot of time to learn something but I don’t really feel bad about it. Even if I make a lot of mistakes, I don’t think it’s really typed related. It’s only because I fail and I will need to learn to be better for it. Just some message to other ISJs who struggle out there. Just don’t give up. We are slow, but we can reach the same level of proficiency as anybody out there. 😊 We just need to walk at our own pace, that’s all.

Some random ISTJ guy …

Btw, do you have any leadership advice for ISTJs in general? And is it normal for 1w2 to avoid facing their mistakes (or imperfection) and needs a lot of things to ever push them to realize and finally actively fix it?

Mod: 1s hate to think they did anything wrong, so they generally don’t take it well when others correct them, infer they made a mistake, etc. They can become ‘reactive’ and defensive when they feel ‘accused.’ It’s important for them to realize this defense mechanism is just their instant insecurity about having been ‘bad’ -- it’s an irrational response, because ‘a mistake’ does not equal ‘bad.’ A flaw is not the end of the world. They should learn to combat their anger with humor and chuckle about their need to be seen as ‘good’ all the time. (This moves them closer up their line 7 to where they can have fun and have a sense of humor about themselves.) Leadership in general... uh... be considerate of all the needs present and realize that not everyone will live up to your high standards of performance; cut them some slack where it’s needed, and make sure to tell people they did a good job when they did one. Others need more affirmation than most 1w2 STJs.

[screpdoodle]

Duality - Chapter One (The Diabolical Ways of the Deciduous Demon Outside my Window)

"KAOS!! Get down here! We're going to be late!!"

Early morning sunlight dappled through the smudged windowpane, the chirping of birds mingling with the songs of the warm autumn wind working its way through the cracks. All things given, it seemed like a perfect morning. That assumption, though, was a misplaced one. At least to the young boy in the bed. He opened one eye, took one look at his window, and pulled the blankets over his head with a groan. The light stung his eyes, making him crave for the sweet embrace of dreams once more. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, it would all just fade away-

Tap tap tap

He flinched, then peered out from beneath his covers, pulling them down just to the bridge of his nose. Tap tap tap. It was back. The warm autumn breeze brought with it that no good tree branch, the warm toned leaves swaying with every tap against the glass. The boy squinted, then laid back down, pulling the blankets tighter around his head. If he just ignored it, the tree wouldn't notice he was there. It would go away, realizing it was a futile attempt to gain his attention. Whatever the tree wanted, he wasn't curious enough to risk finding out.

Tap tap tap. Tick tick tick.

He covered his ears, he wasn't listening. He didn't have time to deal with the tree and the ticking. There wasn't enough time in the world to deal with both. And yet, here they both were. That itching at the back of his mind, and that incessant tapping against the glass.

Tap tick tick. Tap tick tick.

Every moment of silence he could have been relishing was filled with those Ancients awful noises. How long has passed? A minute? A moment? He couldn't tell. All he could focus on was that stupid tree.

Tick tap tick tap tick tap.

In one movement, the boy sat up, throwing his blankets to the ground as forcefully as he could muster, facing the source of his problems.

"For the Ancients' sake, would you shut the f-"

"Kaos!!" The boy screamed as the door was flung open, nearly causing him to fall from his loft, grabbing the pillow in self defense. "Ancients, what is taking you so long?! Mother took Mey to school already, and at this rate you're going to miss the bus! Get dressed and get downstairs!!"

The door was slammed shut just as quickly as it opened, leaving the boy alone in his room. A small room, with walls lined with papers, a soot stained carpet and a desk set beneath the window. The sun bathed everything in a warm light, leaving the still burning candle on its surface obsolete for the time being. Still in shock, clutching his pillow like a weapon, Kaos slowly gathered himself, then climbed down the ladder, still clutching the pillow in his off hand in case he needed to use it. Which he most likely wouldn't. But it never hurt to be prepared. With a huff, he eyed the tree branch one last time, its pesky attempts to grab his attention finally coming to an end. It sat there, perfectly still - aside from the dancing leaves that yearned to be carried away with the fall winds. Oh, how he wished he could join them. For good measure, Kaos threw his pillow at the window, making sure the tree knew who was boss, before venturing over to his closet. His closet was a box. Of course, he had a real closet, set into the wall across from his loft, but he had never bothered to store his clothes in there. No, that was for storing other things. The box did quite nicely for the minimal amount of outfits he owned. Most of which were piled under his loft, waiting to be washed. Kaos half the time forgot they were there, along with some of Mey's clothes that he had borrowed; and some of his brother's that he had… Liberated from languishing beneath his bed with old socks and unfinished homework from grades passed. It was a mystery how Dyskord had ever managed to graduate, Kaos thought as he fished through the unfolded clothes stored within his closet box. Finally, he settled on the same things he always wore, which were sitting to the side of the box. He stumbled back as he pulled on his black sweats, wriggled into his tunic, slipped on his canvas shoes and grabbed a miscellaneous hairbrush he was pretty sure didn't actually belong to him. Kaos pulled the comb through his hair as he scrambled down the stairs, mumbling to himself as he chucked it to the side (Mother or Dyskord would pick it up eventually), grabbed his long coat off its hook, then careened into the kitchen as he put it on. The coat was far too big for him, swallowing his wiry frame whole like some beast made of shadows. Kaos hoped he would someday grow into it, but he had owned it for years now and no such luck had befallen him. Kaos climbed up onto the kitchen counter, eyeing his prize. The cookie tin, his ceremonial breakfast whenever Mother was out of the house. He pulled the lid off, then peered inside - only a few left. Just as Kaos reached his little hand down into the metal tin, Dyskord walked through the back door, tracking mud onto the scuffed tile flooring.

"What do you think you're doing," he spoke, kicking his boots off, never once taking his eyes off Kaos.

"Oh, please. Like you'd tell Mother," Kaos rolled his eyes, sliding the cookie jar back into place, his bounty in hand.

"Maybe I will."

"Then maybe I'll have to tell her who really passed your final exams for you, brother."

The two locked death glares, the only noise being that of the leaky faucet and the occasion chirp of the birds outside. Kaos cracked a smile, Dyskord following.

"Just grab me one too, short stack. Then we've gotta go."

Kaos shoved the cookie into his mouth, then grabbed the tin once more. His face reflected back at him on the polished sides. Big eyes the color of copper, a piggish upturned nose, his cheeks puffed out like an chipsquirrel's, gathering food for the winter. Cookie crumbs mingled with the imperfections that littered his skin, freckles, blemishes, and his birthmarks - mirrored patches of darker skin that clustered around his eyes. They had gotten lighter with age, but they still bugged him sometimes. One little snaggletooth stuck out from the corner of his mouth - an issue that could have been fixed with braces. If he hasn't broken them nearly the day after he got them. He may not have been the 'peak of perfection', but Kaos didn't mind. It made him unique. It made him… special. Though, that paired with his lackluster height usually ended up with him being at the receiving end of a bullying entourage.

"You got everything you need, baby brother?"

Kaos nodded, then hopped down from the counter. "Yes, mother. I have everything."

Dyskord rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Backpack?"

"At the front door."

"Lunch?"

"Won't be there long enough to need one."

"Catalyst?"

"Harvested it last night."

"Well, aren't you prepared," Dyskord chuckled. "Specimen?"

"That’s your job, remember?" Kaos smirked. "I have it all thought out, Dyskord. Don't worry."

"Well then, what's your plan for when Mother finds out?"

"Who said she'll find out? The only way she would is if someone rats me out." Kaos took a bite from his second cookie, handing the extra to Dyskord as he pushed past into the main hall. The high ceilings and towering walls making him seem even smaller; like an ant in a dollhouse.

"If I'm this deep in, why would I rat you out and risk getting in trouble myself?"

Kaos shrugged, walking backwards so that he could watch Dyskord's movements. "I don't know, brother, but the only variable that could possibly go wrong is you. So as long as you play along, everything should be absolutely peachy~" He grinned, then shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth. It tasted a little old, probably a month or two, but a stale cookie was better than no cookie. And at least Kaos knew that batch hadn't been poisoned.

Dyskord chuckled dryly, placing the cookie in the little leather satchel that hung at his hip. Kaos knew he'd probably eat it later. Dyskord could never resist a cookie. "Alright, alright, tiny genius. I'll trust you on this. But don't blame me when this plan fails too."

"It won't. Trust me."

Kaos grabbed his backpack off its hook, unzipping it just to triple check its contents. It never hurt to be certain.

"Communicator?"

"Yep."

"You got your diary~?"

Kaos whipped around, glaring. "It's not a diary! It's my journal of doom!!"

Dyskord patted Kaos on the head, ruffling his umber hair, a condescending smile on his lips. "Sure it is, baby brother."

Kaos grumbled under his breath, turning back to his backpack. He shrugged Dyskord off, trying to focus. Sure enough it was all there. Homework, lunchbox, communicator, his 'journal' - everything important was there and accounted for. As Kaos struggled to zip up his backpack once more, his gaze drifted to the portrait that hung above the door. His family, painted in exquisite detail, framed by an intricate wooden frame. Dyskord, with his old ashy blonde hair (Kaos had suggested he dye it neon green since it was a similar level of horrible against his skin tone, but Dyskord had insisted on vibrant silver.) Mey sat on Mother's lap, creasing the dress she had spent all of the previous day ironing to get it absolutely pristine, because she wouldn't sit still. Mother bore her usual scoul, contrasted by Mey's wide grin. If their expressions weren't so different, Mey might have been mistaken for a younger Mother. Father stood to the side of her, behind Dyskord, wearing a similar expression to his wife. Kaos had been surprised he hadn't been absent for that too. Looking down to where he was immortalized in paint, Kaos stood the front - where the painter had instructed him to stand; wearing a matching suit and tie like the rest of his siblings - though he at least still had his scarf. Black and grey striped knit that was as long as he was tall, coiled around his neck and draped over his shoulder. Kaos never went anywhere without his scarf, and even though he heard Hel from Father afterwards, it was worth it. As Kaos slung his backpack over his shoulder, he trailed his hand to his neck, reaching to feel the soft warmth of his scarf. Instead, his hand only met skin.

"C'mon Kaos, we gotta get going. We don't want you being late for-"

"My scarf!!" Kaos shouted. "Where's my scarf!?"

"Kaos, it's not even that cold out. You don't need your- oooor you can go get it. That's fine too, I guess." Dyskord watched as Kaos chucked his overstuffed backpack to the side, the contents spilling across the floorboards as he raced upstairs to his room. He swore, Kaos would be the death of him one of these days, but at least his life was interesting with him around. Dyskord just wished he wasn't so, well, chaotic. But he supposed that came with the name.

Kaos threw the door to his room open, his breath catching in his throat. He had been wearing it when he fell asleep, where could it have gotten off to!? Had he taken it off when he got dressed? No, it wasn't by his closet box. Was it in his loft? No, no. Maybe it was in the blanket pile he had created that morning. Or maybe it was- Kaos froze, slowly turning towards the window, the familiar tap tap tapping of the tree branch against the grimy glass greeting him.

"You," he glowered at the tree branch, carefully approaching the window. "What did you do with it!?"

The tree branch just continued its endless rapping against the window pane, mocking him, oblivious to the enemy it had made. Kaos stormed forward, climbing up onto his desk, kicking the papers that covered it onto the ground.

"Give it back now!!" He pressed his face against the glass. "Or so help me, you will meet your untimely demise!!"

He was given no response. Not that Kaos expected one. The trees were always conniving, this one especially. They seemed innocent, but beneath that bark was a dastardly deciduous demon, lulling him into a false sense of security, laying in wait. But Kaos knew. Kaos knew the truth about these creatures. And he wouldn't let them get the upper hand. Never once taking his eyes from the branch, Kaos slid open his window slowly, then peered out. There it was, as he had assumed, his scarf. In the patchy grass, between the gnarled roots of the beast. He shot the tree one last glare, muttering to himself, then stepped out onto the small ledge right outside his window. At least that was a perk of being small, he could fit into spaces others couldn't. Kaos stood up, balancing himself against the wall, holding onto one of the few bricks that jutted out from the flush surface. He had done this many a time, but every time he felt butterflies congregating within his stomach, a few fluttering into his throat. The wind in his hair, the view of the forest beyond- painted in autumnal colors of deep purples and dry oranges, the grounds below in desperate need of tending. All of it flooding his senses, paired with the impending damage he would receive at one wrong move. It was all… magnificent. But admiring the view wasn't what he was here to do, no. Kaos shook his head, reaching out to grab the closest branch, hoisting himself into it. The tree may have been a conniving, callous creature, but at least it served a purpose. That being a way for Kaos to get to the ground without completely shattering all of his fragile little bones.

"Kaos, come on!!" He heard Dyskord call from inside. "I have other stuff I need to do today, if you don't hurry up you'll have to take the school ship!!"

Kaos rolled his eyes, carefully stepping down onto the next branch. Dyskord was so impatient. He'd get down, grab his scarf, and they'd be on their way before his older brother could utter another idiotic sentence. Kaos slid onto another branch, this one bending slightly under his weight. He shot the tree a glare, as if daring it to try something, before stepping onto the next one. This one, unluckily, wasn't so forgiving. Before Kaos knew what was happening, the branch had buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground - the branches he fell past slicing at his skin. At least the damp earth was there to soften his fall. Kaos propped himself up on his arms, spitting out a chunk of dirt as he silently cursed himself out for letting down his guard. At least he has his scarf. Kaos stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes best he could before assessing the damage. A few cuts here and there, his coat would definitely need some stitches, but at least nothing was broken. Kaos scooped his scarf up, wrapped it loosely around his neck, then froze. He heard the sound of an engine revving up, the realization hitting him all too late.

"WAIT!!" Kaos shouted, making a mad dash for the front door. "Dyskord, I'M COMING!!"

As Kaos rounded the corner, three things crossed his mind. His backpack laying on the path that lead up to the door, the idiocracy of his older brother; and the boat that belonged to the very same, the one that was usually docked at the edge of the island, now whirring off into the horizon without him.

"YOU IDIOT!!" Kaos shouted, skidding to a stop. He swore he heard his brother laughing over the sound of the motor, which was quickly fading away. "I'M TELLING MOTHER!!"

Of course he wouldn't. Telling Mother had become an empty threat within the family, no longer holding any weight after countless empty promises of "Mother'll hear about this" and "I'm telling mom" (the latter usually used by Mey) had been thrown around for years. But it was the only comeback he could dream up in the moment. He had other problems than coming up with a witty response that Dyskord couldn't even hear. He'd get him back later. After he was done with his current plan. Then he'd have all the time in the world to get back at Dyskord for being a complete ignoramus and putting a petty act of defiance over the welfare of the plan. That's what Kaos got for letting him in on it, he supposed, kicking a loose pathing tile out of frustration. His kick barely dislodged it, but it was at least something. Kaos grabbed his bag up off of the ground, finally noticing the note taped to it. Have fun taking the school ship. Of course. Kaos crumpled the note up as he swung the backpack over his shoulder, muttering to himself all the while. He looked around, starting to head in the direction the school ship usually docked. It was quite a ways away, so the sooner he left, the better chances he had of catching it. Why it didn't dock closer to his home was beyond him, and despite the complaints he had lodged with the school board and his mother, no changes had been made. Rolling fields of splotchy, yellowing grass were laid out before Kaos, broken up by the occasional stone pathway. Cracking with age and broken up like a checkerboard. The wound through the dirt haphazardly, interrupted by the occasional tree (which Kaos did his best to keep his distance from) or the start of a rickety bridge that connected the nearby islands. On his usual walks, Kaos would have stopped on the bridges, kneeling down and seeing how far down he could reach into the abyss below, waiting for something to float by that he could possibly add to his collections. Today, he had no time for that. Today, he actually had somewhere to be. Kaos counted his steps, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to watch as his home got smaller and smaller. From here, it looked normal. Simple even. But the imposing aura it cast still lingered in the air. The tall spires piercing the wispy clouds themselves, high stone walls and arched windows covered in moss and ivy. An overbearing, ancient labyrinth of a castle Kaos called home. Sometimes Kaos was convinced the place was still standing because of the grime it was caked in, which was the excuse he gave himself whenever it came to cleaning. If he did a good job, he might not have a home to go back to. It was an excuse Mother was never fond of. Kaos remembered one year he had been put on ivy duty during their yearly cleaning. He had encountered a particularly dastardly tangle of vines on the west side, one that had kept him trapped for the majority of the day. Mother had found him deep asleep in their verdant web after the sun had set, and Kaos hadn't been allowed near that part of the castle for a good while afterwards. Kaos sighed, a smile creeping its way onto his face at the memory, his home now simply a silhouette against the backdrop of the endless sky. He looked ahead, finally making out his target. The old barge that served as the school ship. Badly, at that. It was only a few islands away, where the grass was more lush and the terrain less harsh. Kaos picked up his speed, going from a light jog to a sprint, barely feeling his feet touch the ground. He was gonna make it. He could still see students boarding, he still had time, he could still make it.

"WAIT! WAIT!!" He shouted, causing a few heads to turn, but only for a brief moment.

Kaos forced himself through the crowd, nearly doubling over as he struggled to catch his breath, one hand on the strap of his backpack and the other on his scarf, just making sure it was still there. He ignored the dirty looks he was getting as the line began moving again, following the students ahead of him up the ramp. Even from his low vantage point he could tell the state of the ship. Noisy and overcrowded, with just a sprinkle of staff trying desperately to keep order. The chatter of students loud enough to make the patchwork steel hull of the ship vibrate. Kaos found his mind wandering as he and the rest of the students were herded onto the ship like animals, personal space a thing of the past. Everyone around him was at least double Kaos' height, leaving him lost in a forest of legs and torsos shuffling him forward. It would have been humiliating if he wasn't used to it. Ever since he was little, (well, littler) he had been the runt of the litter. Mother had wanted to hold him back because of it, even though she admitted he was smart enough to be a grade ahead. But here he was, stuck in a sea of people all taller than him, even at a grade lower than he should have been. At least that meant he excelled compared to everyone else - when he actually applied himself, that is. It was so hard to apply himself when everything was so easy. Kaos wanted a challenge, he needed one, he-

BANG!

Kaos stumbled back, bumping into the person behind him. He clutched his hands over his ears, the world vibrating around him. He faintly heard the person behind him mutter something as they pushed past, pulling him back to reality. What in the Ancients' names was that?! Kaos looked around, stepping off of the ramp and onto the deck of the ship, feeling the engine start to whir to life. He frowned. It must've just been a misfire of the engine. The ship was old and broken, misfires were bound to happen. But even then, Kaos couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Kaos peered over the edge of the ship, watching as the island below them slowly began drifting away. The smell of engine fuel and strong perfume filling the air. Kaos gripped the rusting side rail, then looked back to the deck of the ship. The talking had only grown louder, everyone trying to be heard over the roar of the engine and of course one another. It was an idiotic sight, people huddled into groups. Elves and Ents playing a quick game of Skystones, a group of Mabu discussing the best way to prepare beetroots for their cooking class - even the Gillmen were chatting it away, all in their own little worlds. Everyone seemed to have a group. Everyone, but Kaos. It wasn't a bother to him, though, not at all. Why would it have been? He had himself, and that was all Kaos needed. Kaos began making his way through the crowds of kids, hands in his pockets and eyes trained on the floor. He slid his backpack off once he got to his usual corner, plopping himself down. He looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, the chatter around him becoming nothing but white noise. He closed his eyes, letting himself drift off, running the plan through his head once more. It would be perfect. He just needed to make it through the day.

***

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

[ruewrites]

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 9: Ghosts of the Past

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 4818

Warnings: Skip Asmo’s 4th partner near the beginning (tw: for a bit  of verbal abuse) (the tw here is more for a just in case).

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

“Oh…. You’re gonna be hanging out with him.”

Asmo frowned, switched hands in order to hold his phone. He’d noticed that she had some tensions with Solomon, but surely they’d fade over time. Clearly he was wrong. “Yes, I am going to hang out with Solomon. Why wouldn’t I? He’s my best friend,” he responded, trying to keep any annoyance out of his voice. 

He heard something slam on the other side of the receiver.  Oh he hated fighting. 

“Well maybe I don’t like him.”

“And why not?” Asmo felt his voice raise. If there was one thing he would never give up, it was his best friend. Solomon and he had known each other for so long, he wasn’t going to drop him out of the blue because some person he was dating randomly decided that they didn’t like him. That was ridiculous. Anyone who thought he was going to end his friendship with Slomon clearly shouldn’t be dating him. “Solomon’s never done anything to you!”

A huff. “You hang out with him so much! What’s so special about him? Why do you always spend so much time together?” she asked, voice rising from the other end of the speaker, “You act like he’s so special! Solomon this and Solomon that, I’ve heard so many Solomon stories! I already have to see him at school everyday, you don’t have to remind me every second how close you are! It’s not like you need him.”

“Well then maybe we just shouldn’t be together if you can’t stand Solomon that much, because he’s not going anywhere!”

Silence.

Asmo didn’t want to fight, especially not over the phone. Maybe it wasn’t the most mature way to handle it then, but Asmo’s relationship with Solomon was one of the most important things to him, and he wasn’t about to let him out of his life. Did he want to break up over the phone? No. But this wasn’t the first conversation that they’d had about this. He also saw the way she treated Solomon during school and when they tried to hang out. Asmo tried to shut it down whenever he saw it, but now he was done. 

“Fine. Go suck his dick for all I care, you’re such a bitch.”

Asmo decided then and there that he’d make it a ground rule then and there that any slight against Solomon was a slight against him. Solomon was his friend, his best friend, and he certainly wasn’t going to ditch him for some dumb relationship.

*****

Asmo had just come downstairs and immediately came down to snuggle against his then boyfriend at the time on the couch. He’d spent the night, one of the first times he’d gotten to spend the night at this boyfriend’s house. He thought he looked cute. He really did. He’d left his bedhead the way it was, shrugged on one of his boyfriend’s sweaters, and pulled up his shorts. 

He thought he looked cute.

“You not feelin well or somethin?” he’d asked, almost as soon as he saw Asmo. He stopped, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Not feeling well? Why wouldn’t he be feeling well? He brought his hands back in towards himself and tilted his head.

Maybe… Maybe he just misunderstood. “What?”

“Are you sick?” his boyfriend repeated, “You’re not all dressed up like you usually are... Like, you didn’t get all dolled up or anything.”

Asmo couldn’t help but stutter out a response, “I- ah… No. No I’m not sick.”

I thought I looked cute….

The disappointment in his eyes hit Asmo hard. “Oh.”

Asmo stood there in awkward silence for a moment, even after his boyfriend already turned away from him. He tried to touch him, but he kept pulling away. Even after Asmo was clearly upset, he didn’t seem to care. Normally he’d let Asmo snuggle and hang on to him… But normally he was dolled up and pretty…. Asmo couldn’t shake off the disappointment in his eyes… He’d underperformed, and Asmo couldn’t help but feel like he was being punished. He couldn’t cry, crying would only make it worse. He was already unhappy with him and he couldn’t make it up to him. He didn’t even want to look at him…

Asmo never underdressed ever again after that…

******

Asmo was walking back home, alone, in the dark. Every now and again a street lamp would flicker above him.

She promised him it’d be fun… But honestly? Asmo had just had one of the worst nights of his life. That party had been the worst. No one talked to him. No one acknowledged him unless she brought him up. He was only there to look pretty. 

It wasn’t the first time this girlfriend had done this either. 

The first time he met any one in her life, she always pointed out his looks. Of course Asmo didn’t mind, he knew he was attractive, but after a while it seemed like that was the only things she seemed to know about him. She wasn’t really concerned with what he liked or what he had to say. Asmo’s voice was always glossed over. 

This had been the nail in the coffin for him. The confirmation he needed. 

She was using him for arm candy and Asmo wasn’t happy about it. Even though he saw this coming, the realization still made him sick. Her friends were surrounding her and Asmo was on the outside of it all. Completely and utterly alone. They didn’t seem to really care about anything he said or did. His job was to stand there and look pretty.  Maybe the sickness in his stomach was from the alcohol, but he didn’t think that was the case. 

Asmo was starting to wonder if any of his partners cared about what he had to say… Or was his job simply to be appealing to them?

Perhaps they didn’t mean it, perhaps they hadn’t even realized that they were doing it, or maybe they did. Maybe people only liked Asmo for his looks, maybe they wouldn’t talk to him if he didn’t look pretty. They didn’t care about his interests or what he had to say. So be it. He noticed  the way people’s eyes glazed over when he started talking about things he enjoyed. He knew they didn’t pay attention.

******

“Can you not drop it?” he growled. Asmo should have walked away. He really should have. Yet here he was, standing and confronting his boyfriend. They really shouldn’t be fighting in his boyfriend’s dorm like this and yet-

“Look, I’m not the one who brought all this shit up. It’s not my fault Mommy and Daddy abandoned you and your brothers because you’re trash. If you weren’t they would have taken you with them. You’re not little Mr. Perfect. You’re garbage,” he snarled. Asmo knew he was being mean, he knew he shouldn’t give into his prodding, he knew he should be the bigger person…

He couldn’t be the bigger person. Not now. 

“Oh fuck off. If I’m so imperfect why are you still with me?” he snapped back. Asmo knew he would feel bad later after he cooled off back home. He knew he would feel bad firstly because he probably woke some of the neighbors and secondly because he knew the text messages that would hit him the next morning. 

His boyfriend had scoffed and turned away, “You’re kidding right?”

“Am I kidding about what?”

“Blondes really are as dumb as they say, aren’t they?” 

Asmo saw the glint in his eyes. He knew that glint, and he hated it. He steeled himself in an attempt to prepare himself for whatever was going to come out of his mouth. 

He was never really prepared.

They were nearly touching, and Asmo’s hands were balled up into tight fists.

“All anyone will ever want to do is fuck you. That’s all you’re good for. Anyone who says otherwise is lying through their teeth. At least I’m honest with you Sweetheart, the first place my eyes went were down,” his words were venom that slowly filled Asmo. This wasn’t something new by any stretch of the mean. At this point, the good moments didn’t even compare to the claw wounds under his skin or the poison in his heart.

“Oh screw off,” he growled, hating the way his voice wavered. Asmo knew his own insecurities well enough. He didn’t need his soon to be ex-boyfriend to remind him about them.

“You never let anyone see you before you’ve done your morning routine, you never wear laid back clothing, hell even your pajamas are some real fancy shit!” his boyfriend had laughed, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, it almost  makes up for all the other things about you! Especially when it comes to all of those insecurities of yours!”

Asmo pushed past him to the door. He couldn’t stand there and take this any more.

“I’m the best you’re ever gonna get babe! Do you honestly think you’re gonna get better than this?” was the last thing Asmo heard through the slammed door. 

Asmo hated breaking up over the phone, but breaking up over text felt more than appropriate in this situation. He even blocked his number on his way back home with hot tears in his eyes.

Asmo didn’t know what he deserved, honestly he didn’t think he deserved some amazing fairytale, but he knew it was better than this…. Not even previous partners had stooped that low…

He was going to take a break. Take time to get away from all of his exes, take time for himself. Who needed them? They all certainly hadn’t deserved him… They didn’t.

******

Asmo couldn’t help but remember all of those exes as he sat on the bathroom floor. He was in a spiral and he couldn’t pull himself out, and the only thing he could do was wait it out till it was all over. He’d been dumb to think he deserved someone as wonderful as Solomon. Sure he thought he deserved to be in something decent, but Solomon? Solomon was too good to him, he was Asmo’s ideal version of a partner. Solomon had also known about all of Asmo’s past failed relationships. Why would he want to be involved with him like that?

Home sounded so nice right about now. He could curl up under his covers and lock out the rest of the world until he felt like himself again.  But that also required him to go back out into the party, back out under the bright lights, back out to face his humiliation. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and stop himself from opening his version of Pandora’s Box and releasing everything he felt for Solomon. Everything his subconscious had worked so tirelessly to suppress. 

If he could do that, all of the ghosts from his past, all of his mistakes, would stop haunting him in his little prison.  

A knock resounded from the other side of the door. They could wait. They could go somewhere else. He didn’t care. But Asmo needed his little prison, he needed to be locked away from the world, he needed a moment to drown in sorrow. They could leave without a second thought, Asmo couldn’t. But they didn’t leave, instead they just knocked again. Couldn’t Asmo just be alone with his sorrows in peace? Couldn’t he do so without being humiliated?

“Occupied,” he growled out, trying to get the message to whoever was on the other side to leave.

Unfortunately, family was never really good at leaving you alone.

And Asmo forgot to lock the door.

“Aw did someone drink too much? I can hold your hair back for-” Mammon’s jovial tone died as soon as he looked at Asmo. He probably had never sobered up faster in all of his life than in that moment.  

Asmo tensed and turned his face away, “Don’t look at me. Leave Mammon.” 

The door clicked shut, the lock turned, and Mammon stepped closer. “Hey… Hey it’s alright,” Mammon’s voice was softer than Asmo had ever heard it before. He flinched as Mammon slowly brought his face out of his lap.

“It’s really not.”

“Wha-”

“I’m not talking about it.”

More tears fell down his face. He just wanted it to stop, he wanted all of it to stop. He wanted his ghosts to stop tearing the petals out of his chest and to stop whispering in his mind. Those times were dead and gone, the least they could do was leave him alone instead of adding to his suffering.

Another choked sob escaped him, as Mammon pulled him to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. “Alright, you don’t have ta talk about it.”

Asmo didn’t try to pull away. He let his brother hold him like that for a while as he cried away on his shoulder, staining the designer jacket beneath him. Suddenly he was a child again, crying in Mammon’s arms because of something some bully said at his school. Mammon would hold him until he couldn’t cry anymore. It wasn’t until Mammon held him back a bit that Asmo started to wipe his eyes again. He hadn’t realized how blurry his eyes had become. The sound of running water filled his ears and then a wet paper towel pressed against his face. The cold compression felt soothing against his red, blotchy eyes. After a bit, Mammon switched to his other eye and Asmo’s sobs and choked cries slowly turned into soft sniffles. 

“There ya go, now let’s fix all that smeared makeup yeah? Can’t have my baby brother not lookin his best.”

Asmo couldn’t help but chuckle. Mammon cleared up his runny mascara and now spotty eyeliner. It was probably a blessing in disguise that the party outside was dark. Rough hands combed through his hair in an attempt to restyle it in some way.

It was times like this when Asmo remembered that Mammon wasn’t all that bad. He could be annoying and a pest, but when he felt like it he really could be a good older brother. 

Face cleaned up and sniffles slowly coming to a halt, Asmo was finally starting to feel better, but his stomach wouldn’t stop churning.  He wanted to leave, his night was over. He didn’t want to dance with strangers or drink anymore. A safe haven was calling out to him, and he wanted nothing more than to return the call.

“Ready to head back out there? Have a little more fun?”

“Actually, can you call Simeon? You and Solomon can stay if you want, but I think I’m done.”

Calling any of his other brothers was out of the question. It might tip Lucifer off about where they were, and he couldn’t deal with his oldest brother’s lectures… Not tonight. He didn’t miss the flash of concern that crossed Mammon’s face. Asmo knew he’d never been one to turn down more partying before... But his mood had been completely destroyed. 

“I want to go.”

Asmo had never felt smaller as he crept back into the shadows. He slowly slid his jacket back on and kept his eyes cast down to the floor. 

“Asmodeus!” 

He flinched. Glancing up, only for a second, he saw Solomon’s form making his way over to him. He looked a little ruffled, but his eyes were filled with concern. Honestly, it looked like he sobered up quite a bit. He stumbled and his hands gripped at Asmo’s shoulders. Solomon’s touch burned, a painful reminder of everything Asmo couldn’t have.

“You were gone.”

“I got sick,” not entirely a lie, “I think I’m going to call it for tonight. Simeon won’t mind picking me up right?” Honestly Asmo thought he’d get sick again from the sweetness he was forcing into his voice. It wasn’t that he wanted to be cruel towards Solomon, looking at him just made him want to slam that little door in his heart even harder, to lock away his last few petals forever.

“Sick? Wait, let me call Simeon,it’s probably not a bad idea to call it a night.”

“Oh, no need to bother. I would hate to ruin your wonderful night of fun.”

“Asmodeus, any night spent with you is more than wonderful and fun,” Solomon’s words were too much, he was still drunk, he didn’t know what he was saying, “Besides, it would be unfair to make Simeon make more than one trip.”

He couldn’t talk him out of this. Why did Solomon have to be like this? Sensible, even when drunk. Why?

Why couldn’t Asmo just be by himself for a little longer? Sure he wasn’t bawling his eyes out any more, but that didn’t mean he was done processing or done dealing with the ache in his chest just yet.

Asmo didn’t register them heading outside. Didn’t register them making sure Mammon’s parked car would be okay where it was till morning. Didn’t register Simeon’s tired greeting when he pulled up. Didn’t register the trip over to Solomon’s apartment. 

What time was it?

Was it late night or early morning?

He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was cold and felt numb.

All he knew was that Mammon crashed onto the couch in the living room, a bit to Asmo’s annoyance. So was Asmo going to sleep on the floor? How considerate.

He didn’t realize how close Simeon was behind him and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Please try to be quiet if you could, Luke’s asleep, and it’s late,” Simeon’s voice was soft and soothing. He felt Simeon study him for a moment, hand never leaving his shoulder. And then, “Are you quite alright?”

Asmo was quiet for a moment before he offered a smile, “Oh it’s nothing, just a little too much to drink. It’ll wear off by morning.” 

Simeon stared at him for a moment and Asmo couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze. It felt like he was looking into his very being, like he knew Asmo was lying. Then he nodded and removed his hand from Asmo’s shoulder. “Alright. Sleep well Asmo,” he smiled, before offering Solomon a nod and disappearing back into the hall. Then it was just him and Solomon standing alone in the dark living room. The only noise that cracked their silence was the occasional creaking of the floor and Mammon’s soft snores. The rest of the world seemed to be silent.

Neither one of them seemed to know what to say.

It was Solomon who broke the silence between them, “You… You can stay in my room if you want.” He was still swaying a bit, eyes still a little hazy. 

“Well, I mean… It is your room...I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“You don’t want to sleep on the floor right?” Solomon responded rather quickly, “Besides, you’ve done it before. Unless you want to wake up with back pain.”

Asmo didn’t even get the chance to respond before following Solomon back to his room. He hated the way his heart flipped a bit. Solomon wasn’t his. This was an act of hospitality and he knew that. They’d done this before.

“You said you wanted a sleepover right?” Solomon said, opening the door. He still stumbled every now and again, the alcohol from the still keeping its grip over him. Those big grey eyes still stared at him in the dark, and Asmo could feel a warmth start to consume him.  It was stupid. All of this was stupid. He couldn’t get the girl from the party out of his head, yet his attraction to Solomon was undeniable…

Asmo undid the jacket from his waist and tried to take his shoes off. He felt tense sitting on Solomon’s bed. He’d never felt this tense before, especially not around Solomon. It took all of his effort to get his fingers to move. He honestly didn’t want to sleep in his crop top, but it seemed like his only option.

That is until a piece of fabric came flying at him. Asmo made a tiny noise before he looked at it. It was a dark blue sweatshirt, one of their university’s sweatshirts. He looked at Solomon who was trying to fold his now somewhat crinkled outfit to put it to the side. Only to slip into something that looked a little more comfortable (Asmo was pretty sure it was backwards). Asmo tried to ignore the way his own eyes traced over the tattoos on Solomon’s torso. He tried to ignore everything that ran through him.  He was trying to keep his back pressed firmly against the door in his chest to keep it shut, but something else was fighting him.

It had never been this hard to drop feelings for one of his exes…

“I thought you might like something else, something more comfortable.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” Asmo chuckled, but it wasn’t his normal bell-like laugh Secret had written about so many times before.

But he did change out his crop top for Solomon’s sweatshirt.

It smelt like him. 

Of course it did. It was his sweatshirt. But it didn’t stop the way that smokey scent invaded his senses even more as he laid down on Solomon’s bed. He was drowning in the sheets that surrounded him and his lungs ached. It was a reminder of what he couldn’t have. He lost. The door he’d been trying to keep shut burst open, and everything he’d been trying to hold back burst forth. 

He felt Solomon plop down next to him. There was nothing graceful about it, he didn’t even pull the covers over himself. Asmo thought he heard him mumble something under his breath, and then nothing. Asmo laid there for a moment before getting up, he wanted to be sure Solomon was asleep.

He’d tell him he couldn’t sleep.

He’d tell him that he wanted to check on Mammon. 

He’d tell him he was afraid he’d get sick.

He’d come up with something.

Just as Asmo was about to leave the bed, he took a glance towards Solomon, and he stopped. He shouldn’t have looked at him. His hair was messier than usual, and his cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. Asmo’s mind flashed back to how he’d looked under the changing lights. Even now he looked handsome. Asmo willed himself to move, he screamed at every muscle in his body to do something, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen in his spot.

Was this what Lucifer felt? Was this why he couldn’t leave Diavolo?

Asmo had just assumed that a drunken Diavolo had talked Lucifer into stay over, or that he’d almost gotten himself hurt and Lucifer felt the need to care for him, but perhaps there was more to it than that.

It must have been more than that. This must have been what Lucifer felt. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Solomon’s side, even if he knew he couldn’t have him. It didn’t matter. What if something happened? What if he needed him? Sure he seemed fine now… but Asmo had seen what he drank, it had been a lot. Finally Asmo stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed. He tried his best not to wake Solomon as he adjusted him and tried to tuck him under the comforter. He was partially right, not only was Solomon’s shirt backwards, but also inside out. He’d have to have him fix it in the morning. He found a small trash can in the corner of the room and drug it over, just in case. He paused for a moment and brushed a few stray strands of hair from Solomon’s forehead before going back over to sit on his side. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. He wasn’t even sure what he felt. Some part of him still felt sick, another part felt numb, and another part still felt like it was struggling to bloom.  He wasn’t even sure what was running through his mind anymore, and he certainly didn’t remember falling asleep.

********

Asmo awoke that morning to a headache and the smell of pancakes from the kitchen. He whined for a moment trying to block out the pounding in his head if even for a moment. The morning after was always the worst part of a night of partying.

“You too?”

Oh. He’d forgotten where he was for a moment. He rolled over for a moment to look at Solomon. He had to admit… He had a cute bedhead, and his voice sounded so gravely and devine…. He needed to stop thinking about things like that. 

Asmo ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it up a little bit and sighed, “Yeah, I feel like I got hit  by a bus.”

In more ways than one. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling, wasn’t sure if he wanted to lock himself away and cry, pretend it never happened, or to just let this all run its course.  Entertaining the idea of Solomon liking him could leave him hurt, and the thought terrified Asmo because there also came the fear of him losing his best friend. Asmo wasn’t sure what he’d do if that happened. He couldn’t imagine a future without Solomon.  Solomon becoming a ghost of the past would be more heartbreaking than any rejection he could face…

He couldn’t lose him.

“Well, it smells like someone made breakfast today, and there’s also some pain relievers in the kitchen,” Solomon said, watching as Asmo sat up. He was silent for a moment. “You know, that looks better on you than it does on me.”

Asmo scoffed and swung his legs to the other side of the bed, pretending that the statement didn’t stir something within him, “Oh please, I’m sure it looks cute, maybe not as cute as that girl from last night, but still.” He hoped he was able to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”

“Oh, ah, that,” Solomon chuckled, “She was cute, certainly not what I was looking for, and I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“Oh? Solomon not into a cute girl? Do you have your eyes on someone else by chance?”

Someone who’s not me.

“Perhaps.”

Perhaps.

Of course Solomon would have his eye on some cute thing. It shouldn’t be surprising. Asmo squished the little voice in the back of his head that even entertained the idea that it could be him as he went out to the kitchen.

Mammon’s head was plopped on the kitchen table, water in hand. Simeon set a small capsule down next to him before nodding to the duo, “Good morning, Luke made pancakes! I’m assuming you’ll be needing these as well?” The sound of the rattling bottle was like music to Asmo’s ringing ears.

Luke’s pancakes managed to brighten Asmo’s mood a bit along with the knowledge that the girl from last night didn’t hold a spot in Solomon’s mind. However, she had set Asmo back into reality. He should never have assumed that Solomon was Secret, it was only going to set him up for heartbreak. He had a lot to think about, a lot to think through…. He had options, and some may be better than others. He just needed to figure out which one was best, which one had the least amount of risk.

He couldn’t lose Solomon.

Once more, he was quiet as they returned to Mamon’s car after breakfast, mulling over his options. 

“You’ll send a text when you get home?” Solomon asked, hand inching towards the passenger side door. 

Asmo opened it quickly himself and nodded, slipping into his seat, “I can do that. Remember to get your suit on a hanger today alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Silence pushed its way in between them once more. Asmo was starting to hate the silence. It felt unnatural and strained.

Solomon broke the silence, “I’ll see you around, and I definitely won’t forget your coffee on Monday.”

“You never forget Solomon,” Asmo snorted, “I’ll see you later.”

I love you.

That wasn’t something he could say. Not right now anyways. Not until he could say it without his heart fluttering.

The door shut with a soft thud and Asmo settled back into his thoughts once more. Mammon’s chatter continued to muffle until it faded completely, he wished his ghosts would do the same. He had a lot to think about, and he needed to focus.

The sleeves of Solomon’s sweater split off his hands ever so slightly. Delicate and perfectly manicured fingers played with the ends of the soft sleeves. He was drowning again. Drowning in both the soft caresses of the hoodie and the smokey scent that rose from it.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Three - Rising Star

Victor barely slept that night, concerned about his wife.

Andrea barely ate anything at dinner and began to look lethargic and sore, the rabies shot affecting her even more than the monkey bite itself, probably bringing a fever with it. When she said she wanted to take a shower and go to bed, he took matters into his own hands and helped her shower, afraid she would collapse should she do it on her own. After he settled her in bed, it took mere seconds for her to fall asleep, warm and cozy against him, while he entertained himself with a book. He watched over her, holding a quiet vigil in her slumber, making sure she was warm, comfortable, and healthy.

Once again, Andrea’s stirring woke Victor up. The sun was starting to rise in the Balinese sky, the only thing audible was the ebb and flow of the waves in the distance, the local birds still slumbering in their nests. He wondered if she was starting to get a fever, her cheeks looking more flushed than usual. He gently pressed his lips against her forehead, deeming the temperature acceptable. He wondered if her injury was causing discomfort, unable to t tell if her shoulder was swollen under the bandage. With a very light hand, he touched her on that spot, trying to determine if there was swelling or something that could indicate an infection. Everything seemed normal. She was safe and sound in his arms. Satisfied, Victor leaned his face against her hair and closed his eyes to sleep.

However, he found himself unable to fully relax.

Another thought stirred inside Victor’s somnolent mind. Taking care of Andrea physically was not his only job as a husband, he had to make sure she was happy as well. His biggest challenge, however, was that he had no idea of what made a good husband, or a good father, for that matter. He remembered witnessing his parents happy and in love at a very young age, and after that they had drifted apart, both using their careers as an excuse.

Victor could only guess what being a good husband meant, because he truly had no tangible idea. Still, he would try his best. Andrea gave him so much. She certainly deserved his best.

Victor grimaced as he remembered the way he scolded her earlier; he had reminded himself of his own father: insensitive, imperious, cruel even. Even if it was based on concern and good intentions, his wife did not deserve to be spoken to that way. He made a decision there and then: his main goal for the next day would be to make Andrea smile and allow her to shine her brightest.

Victor tried his best to keep true to his promise, tending to her every need, watching her mood carefully, and acting accordingly. The resort doctor came again to check her wound, which had improved greatly overnight, and told them she could remove the bandage. As a reward of sorts, Victor and Andrea took a dive in the swimming pool, ate, and slept, returning to their previous honeymoon bliss. Still, Andrea seemed sad for some reason, her natural light dimmer than usual. It was when she caught her, later that day, staring at her purse, lost in thought, that he understood why. She was worried about all the text messages Olive had left her.

It was only natural that she would worry, not knowing what was happening back home could only make her picture all sorts of scenarios, probably even worse than the one that was actually happening. On the other hand, Victor knew that the moment she found out there was something wrong with her study, she would lose her for the rest of the honeymoon. She wouldn’t trust other people much with her work and would want to supervise every single inch of progress, forgetting all about the honeymoon. Whatever was happening back in Loveland, Olive and the research team would have to fend for themselves. In the meantime, Victor would have to take his wife’s mind off the subject.

After dinner, Victor took her outside to enjoy the warm night on the patio. They laid down on the big bed by the pool, watching the stars.

“Does your shoulder hurt?” He eyed her carefully, as she tried to make herself more comfortable on the mattress.

“No, not anymore.” She tossed a bit more. “Just trying to find the perfect position.”

Victor smirked to himself. She could be such a dummy sometimes.

“Luckily for you, I know exactly what my wife needs.” He tugged her arm, pulling her closer. “Come use your special pillow.”

She smiled and snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest.

“You were right, this is much better.” She moved closer, as Victor’s arm came behind her, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

They laid still for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the night, until Andrea broke the silence.

“Do you know anything about constellations?”

“Can’t say that I do, why?” He looked at her, curious.

“You and I, laying like this, looking at the stars…” She trailed off. “It’s like in the movies.”

Victor couldn’t hide his smile. Even his wife, who was always so practical and down to earth, enjoyed some romance from time to time. He would obviously oblige. That’s what a good husband would do.

“Anyone could tell you about the most commonly known constellations, such as the Big Dipper or Orion’s Belt.” He playfully quipped. “But only I can tell you about the Mystery Constellations, which only a handful of men on this planet know about.”

“Is that so?” Andrea smiled, playing along. “Mystery Constellations, you say?”

“Now that you are my wife, I feel more at ease sharing this incredibly sensitive information with you, provided you promise me you won’t tell another soul. Do I have your word?” He ceremoniously asked, making his wife giggle.

“You have my word.” She answered, amused.

“Perfect.” He nodded, pointing to the sky. “Do you see those four stars, forming an imperfect trapezoid?”

“Those over there?” She looked at the spot in the sky where he was pointing. “Yes, I guess.”

“That’s the constellation of Pudding.” The statement made Andrea laugh hard, and Victor almost lost his composure as well. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” He scolded, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

“There’s a constellation called Pudding?” Andy laughed again.

“I don’t know why you doubt me, it’s right there.” He answered in all seriousness, making Andrea laugh again. “The legend says that, once upon a time, there was a prince that wanted to conquer this incredibly short and difficult princess’s heart.” He stifled a laugh, seeing she didn’t like the remark on her height. “However, the only thing he knew how to make was pudding, and this particular damsel did not like pudding, so the prince was in quite a predicament. He prayed to the gods to provide him with the finest ingredients, so he could prepare the perfect pudding, the one that would make her fall in love. The gods, moved with the very noble and handsome prince’s devotion, granted him his wish. He made the perfect pudding, a dessert so glorious it was known to drive mortals insane if they had too much of it, and also likely to cause a tummy ache.”

At this point, Andrea was lost in laughter.

“Do you want me to tell you the story or not? Your mockery is aggravating.” He teased her, just to see if he could make her laugh even more.

“Go on, noble and handsome prince.” She teased him back.

“I shall.” Victor continued. “Resuming, the prince had obtained the perfect gift to bestow to his loved one, but the gods had become jealous. Who was this mortal to become worthy of something so divine, that was clearly destined for the gods and the gods alone? They took the pudding away from the prince, and to reward him for his efforts, they made a constellation in the sky shaped like a pudding, to honor such a gastronomic masterpiece.”

“Wow, stargazing and storytelling. I’m impressed.” Andrea complimented, making Victor smirk internally. “But what about the prince? Did he get the girl?”

“It turns out the prince never needed pudding in the first place. May I remind you, he was very desirable.” Victor got another laugh from his wife.

“I’m inclined to agree with that.” Andrea smiled suggestively. “Thank you for showing me such a mysterious constellation.”

“I’m not done yet.” Victor was actually having fun acting silly. It was truly enjoyable to hear his wife laugh like that. Almost as much as making her scream his name. “Do you see those three stars in a row? That constellation is named King of Highhorseland.” Andrea laughed even harder than before. “Legend says…”

“Quit being petty!” She playfully scolded him, poking him in the ribs.

“Let me finish!” He poked her back.

“Nope. Another one.” She insisted, making Victor chuckle, amused that he was able to provoke her.

“Alright, fair enough.” He relaxed on the mattress, focused on the starry sky again. “Can you see that star over there, the brightest of them all?”

“You mean the plane?” She asked with a flat voice.

“I mean the star.” Victor corrected, although part of him was wondering if she was right.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a plane, Victor.”

“Excuse me, who is the knowledgeable astronomer here?” He playfully frowned at her. “This very special star is called Andrea. She’s bright, magical, and beautiful, and she brightens up my dark sky.” He came closer to her, their breaths mingling, their lips almost touching.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” She whispered. “Although you just named a plane after me.”

“Shut up.” Victor claimed her mouth for a kiss, slightly biting on her bottom lip, and all the foolery was promptly forgotten. There were other ways to make his wife forget all about her predicament, and the one Victor had in mind would prove to be even more pleasurable.

He tasted every inch of her skin, drawing from her lips all the pleasurable sounds she had in her, and only when she screamed his name in euphoria, when he bathed her and washed and soothed her spent body, did he let her collapse in his arms blissfully, her skin glowing as it always would when she was feeling happy.

As he watched her sleep, her body pressed against his, his chest swelled with the pride of a job well done. He had taken good care of her. He was a good husband.

He woke up before her, as usual. The bellhop delivered breakfast soon after, and came bearing a message: Goldman had called, and said a certain Mrs. Olive Carson was repeatedly calling LFG to find a way to reach Andrea.

Victor looked at his wife still sleeping peacefully. Why was the Dean being so insistent? Andrea was on her honeymoon, whatever reason she may have to inconvenience them, it better be a good one. Decided to take matters into his own hands, Victor took his phone and dialed Olive’s number, ready to severely reprehend her for being so inappropriate.

The conversation took an unexpected turn, and Victor found himself thanking her excitedly, telling her Andrea would call soon. He took a deep breath before he went to wake up his wife. He was so excited he could barely contain it, and he would probably scare Andrea.

He caressed her curls, watching her eyelids flutter to consciousness.

“Come on, sleepyhead. You have pressing matters to attend.” He tried to whisper, although he was so happy he found himself unable to be as gentle as he hoped.

“Breakfast? That can wait a few more minutes.” She rolled to the other side, her back facing him.

Victor was growing impatient. She needed to know the good news from the source, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. But for that, she would need to stop her shenanigans.

“No time for snoozing, Andrea.” He then remembered something that would make her bolt from bed. “You need to call Olive. Something happened.”

As expected, Andrea jumped from the covers abruptly. Victor handed her the phone with a smile. Not that she noticed.

“Oh my God, what do you think happened?” She took the phone from his hand, a worried look on her face. She pressed the dial and waited for the recipient to pick up. Victor sat beside her, heart jumping in exhilaration.

He watched his wife grimace at the first words of the conversation, only for her expression to become one of disbelief. In each change in her, Victor’s smile went wider. When she hung up, she was frozen in shock, her eyes tearing up slightly.

“I won a GESA award.” She spoke slowly, not really believing it herself. “For Most Promising Mind in Economics. My study isn’t even completely over yet, but they loved it.” She suddenly jumped to Victor’s arms. “I won a GESA! Do you understand what this means?”

Victor wasted no time, now that his happiness could have an outlet. He took his wife and spun her around, both laughing with happiness. He then stopped, still holding her in the air, to kiss her as passionately as he felt. When they broke the kiss, they both looked at each other, their eyes shiny with happiness.

“It means you are brilliant, like I always knew you were.” His voice was tight with emotion, words failing to describe how blessed he felt. “It was only a matter of time for the world to see it too.”

“I didn’t do this alone, Victor.” Happy tears fell as she lovingly combed his hair back with her fingers. “You were my greatest support in all of this. You believed in me, even when I didn’t. You encouraged me and you watched over me. I can’t thank you enough, really.” She took his face in his hands and kissed his lips fervently. “I love you so much. Thank you for being in my life.”

“Thank you for being in mine.” He put her down, so his hands would be free to wipe away her tears. “I love you too, my light. And I am so very proud of you.” He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “Now, go get breakfast so we can go out and celebrate. We’ll go anywhere you want, as long as there are no animals involved.”

Andrea’s smile was so beautiful he couldn’t resist but to pick her up in his arms again, carrying her to the table. Victor couldn’t imagine a time in his life when he had felt so lighthearted, and they were only getting started, he still had a lifetime of happiness by her side. Whatever she thought he did, he would do it again and much more, just to see that smile on her face, casting a warm powerful light in his life and everything around her. Because she was the brightest star in his life. More than that, she was a rising star.