#i spent 3 hours on this :pensive:

[alexiroflife]

"five more minutes?"

part 2.

college au, grungy!choso, fluffff, beginnings of mutual pining

choso kamo x writing tutor!reader

Synopsis: your last tutoring session of the day catches you off guard when the hottest guy you've ever seen in your life walks into the writing center

to sum it up: you and choso didn't expect to enjoy each other's company so much and your giddy awkwardness shows it

WC: 3,700

Warning(s): none, just you and choso being cute as hell

-> guys i am speechless thank you so much for +2,000 followers y'all are amazing i love you so much

You, in truth, never wanted to be a writing tutor.

Your English professor had recommended you to do so, seeing that you had a tendency to excel in your creative and academic writing courses. Your major in english and the years prior you spent scribbling away the fantasies of your mind in middle and high school certainly were to commend for you exceptional writing skills now, but you find that any time you’re actually forced to put pen to paper instead of doing so on your own will dulls the experience entirely. 

You can’t necessarily complain too much because you are getting paid (certainly not enough as a junior in university), but you don’t exactly enjoy the tediousness of having to sit down with freshmen who are crawling their way through their introductory writing courses, fighting to keep their engagement as they try to rush you through your hour and a half appointment- despite how badly they need it.

Writing is an art, and should be treated as such, but god, the way the intro courses are treating it and how the students treat it accordingly truly hurts your soul. Especially because they’re required classes, and people never fare well in classes they’re forced to take. You have first hand experience with that.

You’re almost done for the day when you double check your schedule to see that you have one more slot filled before you can call it a day.

Sighing, you lean back in your desk chair and click on the profile of the boy you’re meant to be meeting with. Apparently he’s in a grade above you working on a seminar. You raise your brow, curiosity striking you. You don’t typically find many upperclassmen coming to your services since they normally already have the writing training that they need and have been crafting enough essays to get the hang of things, or are simply too lazy to be bothered with visiting the writing center.

You don’t have much time to ponder it before there’s a knock on your office door frame, signifying the arrival of the person you are to be mentoring. You look up, and the breath almost flies from your lungs when you see a tall brunette clad in heavy, dark cargo pants, a tattered band tee, and a puffy jacket. His heavily lined, violet eyes meet yours tiredly, though after a few moments, a sprinkle of light flickers its way into his irises upon registering the sight of you. 

“I’m… uh, here for my 3:30?” his remarkably deep voice mumbles out as he stares at you pensively, ringed fingers clutching the strap of his beaten satchel book bag. “You’re (Y/n)?”

You blink. “Oh, y-yeah. Sorry,” you clear your throat, hastily throwing on a friendly smile. “Come in. You can take a seat right here.”

You gesture to the chair before you at your desk, and he approaches, slinging his bag from his shoulder to the floor and seating himself in the cushioned seat. 

You scroll through your computer mindlessly to relocate his profile and exactly what he is here for, but you can’t deny the fact that your mind is immensely distracted by the presence of the man sitting in front of you. You can feel his pretty eyes wandering over the room, bouncing over you then to his lap. You clench your jaw to prevent yourself from practically screaming, for this kid is insanely attractive in a grungy, silent loner kind of way, and you’re unsure of how you’ll even be able to focus throughout the session.

“It’s Choso, right?” you ask, turning from your monitor to meet his diamond eyes.

He nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you. Why don’t you walk me a bit through what you need help with?”

He releases a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze. “I don’t know, my senior sem professor said I needed to work on my paragraph structure for the essay part of the project,” he explains almost disinterestedly. “I don’t really know what she means, so I figured I’d just come here.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Do you have a draft that you can show me?”

Choso reluctantly nods once more, leaning over to collect his bag and pull out a thin stack of papers. He gathers them in his hands and as if embarrassed, slides them across the wood table toward you. You take it from him and briefly skim over the words, the title catching your eye.

“You’re a bio major?” you ask, interest piqued.

“…Um, yeah. I’m writing about blood coagulation… it’s kinda boring stuff I guess.”

“No way, I think that’s sick,” you say casually, flipping through the other pages. “I could never begin to understand that stuff.”

You miss the way Choso’s gaze lingers on your face in momentary, subtle surprise. Your eyes fly up from the page to him again, and he immediately looks away. 

You place the papers back down. “I can kinda see what your professor means just by first glance,” you tell him, reaching over to grab a red pen from your pencil holder.

“That fast?” Choso asks, raising a brow.

You chuckle slightly. “I mean, I didn’t get to see everything obviously. I was just browsing, but I do this a lot. I notice you tend to jump from one thing to another without a solid transition.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay, though. And was it just paragraph structure…? Was there anything else you specifically wanted to look at?”

He shrugs stiffly. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I’m… less of a writer and more of a researcher. I don’t really- I’m not too good with this kind of stuff in general. I just do the work.”

“That’s no problem. You’ve got the important parts down,” you assure him. “Here, why don’t we move to the center next door? It’ll be easier for me to help you with your paper when I’m next to you instead of sitting across.”

“Sure.”

You believe that you have sabotaged yourself in suggesting so, though moving to a less cramped room is something you always do with your clients. Even so, the second you and Choso seat yourselves beside each other at a rounded table in the next room, with another appointment taking place across the room and rather distant from you, his scent of woody cologne consumes your senses the moment his breeze blows past you with his settlement into his chair. 

Your eyes go slightly wide, his arm inches away from brushing yours when he throws his bag over the back of the chair. While he pulls out his computer and gets his papers and notes situated, you sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He beholds the facial structure of a model, a rather bored, tired energy capturing his eyes but emphasizing his beauty nonetheless. His hair, you think, is styled uniquely into two ponytails, but it somehow complements his aura perfectly. Tendrils of chocolate brown sweep over his forehead and behind his ear, and that is when you catch a peak of a tattoo creeping up his neck from behind his jacket collar. 

This guy is too gorgeous for his own good. Part of you doesn’t believe that he is aware of his beauty himself, for he carries himself as though he wishes not to be seen, or more accurately, hardly pays any attention or care to how he is perceived by the surrounding world. He’s reserved, calm, and oh, the way his Adam's apple bops when he clears his throat softly is criminal.

You’re prepared to ask him about his tattoo when you recall that you are supposed to be maintaining a professional, yet amiable environment. To make it obvious that he’s captured your attention and then some would interfere with the entire purpose of his appointment, which he scheduled for academic assistance with you, a tutor. 

You immediately avert your gaze when reality smacks you in the face and you shift your focus back to his paper, sliding it under your palm and ripping the cap of your pen rather harshly. Just as you turn away, Choso finds himself peering over at you, but far less sneakily. 

He had come here expecting to despise the entire process, for his pride is slightly wounded that he even has to visit a writing tutor, but he refuses to allow his lacking skill in essay craft to debunk his grade in something he is so passionate about, and something that he desperately needs to graduate. Besides, he has come for help early enough in the process for it not to have much of a strain on the final product overall, but when he found you in your office, he hadn’t expected to be working with someone like… you.

He was expecting a stuck up hermit who was prepared to tear apart every single piece of his rough draft that he had thrown together, sneering down at him through round framed glasses and frowning at his sheer inferiority within the English department. Instead, he’s greeted with you; a fresh, friendly and drop dead gorgeous face that welcomes him in with no judgment. Aesthetically, and likely spiritually, the two of you can’t appear more different, but you don’t seem at all moved by his dark presence. You smile at him, and you compliment his work though no one has ever taken him as a guy interested in or withholding the brains of one who desires to study the inner workings of the human body. He half thinks you’re just being nice because it’s your job, but he can’t help but take a liking to you immediately solely because of how pretty he deems you to be.

Not only that, but you guide him through each and every one of his stand points within his draft, circling words, marking down sentences, scribbling little notes in the corner summarizing the main point he wishes to get across and how he intends to prove so with his research. You listen to him after asking him to explain something you don’t quite understand, and your eyes search his honestly as he mutters through his intentions that are yet to be properly conveyed on the page. You then nod along with him and tell him that he makes perfect sense when he talks, then you freely provide suggestions about how he can improve this portrayal of understanding in a different way.

And everything you tell him, he understands effortlessly. You have a way with your words and how you transcribe them into something that can be put into paper. You know absolutely nothing about what Choso does academically, but somehow, you magically transform that unknown into what you do know. You tell him that literacy is universal, so it’s easy for you to take any topic and help him construct it properly for literary intake. 

Choso finds himself enraptured by your tutoring. He’s agreeing with you, humming in interest and pointing at the things you write for him, typing away at his notes to record everything he’s hearing. He’s taken by the way your lips move when you speak passionately, intelligently; how your hands swirl animatedly with your speech as you paint physical pictures in the air of what you are verbalizing; how you grin widely when Choso adds onto your suggestions, proving that he is getting a hang of what you are telling him. And above all, Choso can see the joy in your eyes as you help him, how entranced you are by the chance to hold an intelligent conversation about what you have mastered doing and what Choso has mastered doing.

You actually like tutoring him, and Choso can tell because he has come to enjoy being tutored by you within the hour and a half block that you are given.

The two of you only make it through about eight of twenty pages before you somehow get off topic, minutes past your block has ended.

“How long have you been a tutor?” the purple eyed man beside you questions suddenly. You look up, closing the cap of your pen with a gentle smile. You don’t even notice the other appointment in the room leaving, the two of you now completely alone.

“Just for a little over a year,” you say. “I started at the beginning of sophomore year last year.”

“So, you’re only a junior,” Choso observes.

“Didn’t you know that when you clicked my profile on the tutoring site?” you tilt your head.

Choso shakes his head, looking down as he reaches his hand to his keyboard and bouncing his leg. “I… wasn’t paying attention,” he mutters and you laugh slightly.

“You could have picked anybody to help you, then.”

“Yeah, apparently,” he hums. “I’m glad I got you though.”

A certain giddiness captures you as your light smile brightens. “Really?”

“I- just mean, you’re a good teacher,” he adds quickly, brows drawing together. His jumping knee leans over the slightest in his manspreading position beneath the table, leading it to bump against yours clumsily. The two of you look down at the same time, and he brings his leg back in hastily. “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” you bring your shoulders up as you crowd your hands in your lap, his brief contact having startled your nerves. “And thanks. I try my best. I actually had fun during our session.”

He turns to look at you. “You had fun trying to fix my awful writing?”

“No, no,” you chuckle. “Usually I help a lot of freshmen and they don’t really care what they’re writing about, but you really seem to.”

He hums. “I get it.”

“So… why biology? Why blood function?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been cool to me, how much stuff happens inside the body that we can’t see,” he says lowly. “I also… got money to come here in high school for science and all that. It’s kinda always been something I’m good at.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal,” you raise your brows, turning in your chair to face him completely. He glances at you momentarily from the side, but keeps himself awkwardly forward as he clicks randomly away at the keys on his computer. You can see a dust of pink creeping over his pale skin as he eyes his screen. 

“It’s not really. Plenty of people have scholarships and stuff.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make yours any less impressive,” you say, and his blush brightens. He’s so cute. “What would you wanna do with that when you graduate? This is your last year, right?”

“Oh, uh,” he tilts his head back. “I’m looking for work now… but I don’t know, not a lot of jobs in my field would really…” he tries to find a way to explain. His lips tug to the side and his brows angle, hand finding his locks. “...approve of the way I present. I could probably get away with being a lab tech, but if not, I’d do something behind the scenes. Maybe get another job in retail, too.”

You hum, looking over him. “Is it because of your…” you stop to point to his neck. He looks at you quizzically, reaching his hand to where you point. His face relaxes in realization.

“Yeah,” he breathes out a light laugh, and you shiver. “Didn’t know you could see that.”

“Only a little…” you grin. “What is it?”

He takes in a deep breath, looping his fingers over his jack and pulling it down from the skin by his ear. His face is still lit with a pinch of color as he averts his gaze, tilting his chin so that you can see the sharp lines of ink swerving from behind his ear down to his collarbone, a cyber sigilism design. 

You gulp, your own face growing warm with heat as you examine the way his muscles ripple beneath the tattoo, his face bored though leg still jittery with nerves. 

“I like it,” you say as he releases his jacket and lets it rise to conceal his neck once more. “It suits you.”

He looks at you, pursing his lips. “Thanks. I have a lot more.”

“Yeah?” your eyes dash over his frame out of curiosity.

“You won’t be able to see them,” he tells you, and you snap your eyes right back up to his face. A small smile plays on his lips.

“O-Oh. Right,” you stammer. “How many do you have?”

“At least, like, twenty by now.”

“Really?!” you gasp, rather impressed. “Did they hurt?”

“Only a few, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Hmm. You’re making me think I should get a tattoo.”

Choso’s lips curl into a full fledged grin as he examines you, seemingly amused by the idea. You falter slightly when his teeth reveal from behind his soft lips, a dimple prodding in the corner of his cheek with his smile. “You’d get one?”

You pick up on his slightly playful tone and raise a brow. “Why? I don’t look like I would?”

He shakes his head. “I mean- well, no, but-” he paused. “I guess I don’t look like I’d want to be a medical professional, so.”

You can feel your smile widening, your heart brimming with excitement as he opens himself up to bantering with you. And his smile… you would have never expected such an angelic sight on someone like him. You knew he was handsome before, but now with his eyes shining with humor, his cheeks flushed, and a tumble of shy laughter spilling from his throat, you’re willing to risk everything for a chance to hear him laugh again.

“See?” you muse as he finally closes his laptop.

“Where would you get one?”

“Uhhhh,” you try to think. “Maybe… on my shoulder?”

“Yeah?” he pokes out his bottom lip and nods. “I think you’d pull it off,” he goes to tuck his papers back into his bag, keeping his eyes down as the next phrase falls from his mouth. “Maybe I should take you to get one.”

Your brows jump at his suggestion, unsure of whether he is joking or being serious. He catches your eye when he pulls himself back up, heliotrope pools simmering with that hint of bashfulness as he looks at you through his long lashes. 

“Y-You know,” he starts once more. “After you finish helping me with the rest of my essay.”

Your mind clicks when the topic at hand shifts back to the reason why you are sitting with him in the first place. You turn to look at the clock on the other side of the room and widen your eyes when you find that it is half an hour past when you were meant to be finished. “Speaking of,” you start. “We ran really late.”

Choso perks up, following your gaze. “Oh… shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… keep you.”

“No, it’s okay! Really. I didn’t even notice what time it was,” you say. Choso stalls with his hand on his computer, having prepared to put it away, but something in his mind is making him hesitate.

“So-”

“Did you-”

You both stop, having talked over each other, and you laugh nervously. “Sorry, you first,” you tell him.

“No, you go.”

You oblige. “Well… when are you free next? We can keep working on your draft. Maybe in the library soon if you want a change of scenery? Or not, we could just stay here.”

You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden acting like a child struggling to speak before him. You are meant to be scheduling a follow-up, as you do with everyone you tutor, but somehow it feels as though you’re asking Choso out on a date.

Before you can say anything more, the brunette is nodding before he even comprehends what you’re asking. “Yes. The library is good. Let’s do that.”

You grin, relieved. “Okay. Cool. Great. When-?”

“Whenever,” he rushes. You blink, and he reels in upon noticing how quickly he answered. He turns away. “I mean- whenever you’re free.”

“Next week? Same time?”

He hums. “Yeah. That’s- that’s perfect.”

You go to stand as Choso reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The two of you stand before each other, silence taking you as you find yourselves unsure of what else to say. 

You look to the side and notice that Choso’s computer is still sitting on the table. You reach out for it, gathering it safely in your hands and presenting it to him. “Here. Don’t forget this.”

He looks down at the device and his brows lift. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he takes the computer from your hands, brushing his fingers accidentally with yours, before pulling it into his grasp and tucking it into his bag, lowering his head to hide his flustered expression. “Thank you. And thanks for the… the help.”

You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

You remain before each other for a moment more, neither of you desiring to leave just yet. 

“Should I, you know, give you my contact?” Choso suggests, and you perk up. “For next week, and I guess in the future when we schedule other appointments…”

“Oh, yeah! Sure, here.”

You pull out your phone and let him hover over you, his scent invading your senses once more as he types his number into an empty contact. You call it once he is finished so that your number can pop up on his phone, and he leans away. “Got it.”

“Great,” you smile at him. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

You watch his tall figure trudge away, out of the doorway and down the hall with his face into his phone as he works to save your contact. The moment he leaves, you heave out and press your hand to your chest, excitement fluttering through you in the form of butterflies. 

Hell. What you would have given to get just another five minutes alone with that beautiful stranger. Maybe he would have asked you to hang out sometime properly. 

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 3

"Evelyn? What's up?"

"It's Roman. He hasn't come home last night, or this morning for that matter. Do you know where he is?"

To Jacob's surprise, Evelyn sounded worried.

"No, I don't know where he is. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday evening after he dropped off Olivia."

"Oh...right."

Jacob almost rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure he's not just staying over at someone's place and doesn't want to be disturbed?"

"I thought about that, but he's not answering his phone either. And get this: I get a call from some guy who claims to be a director, says Roman missed the morning shoot for the commercial he's supposed to star in. Weird, right? He was quite excited when he first got the gig."

There was a pause while Jacob considered this. It did seem rather odd that Roman would simply drop off the map like that. Odd and, if he was being completely honest, a little concerning.

"I really don't know what to tell you, Ev...I have no idea where he might've gone."

"Okay. Thanks anyway, Jake."

The call ended, leaving Jacob to stare pensively at Olivia's face beaming at him from the lock screen wallpaper. Suddenly, the silence blanketing the apartment felt subtly oppressive, as if it concealed a terrible secret.

Jacob frowned, and shook his head to dispel such fancies. Roman was most likely fine - it had just been a few hours, after all. He probably had one too many drinks and was nursing a hangover or something.

He made a move to pocket the phone - then pulled up his convo with Evelyn instead and began typing.

The hours passed with no news. Jacob even tried calling Roman himself, only for his calls to go to voicemail. Curiouser and curiouser; Roman was usually quick in answering his calls, in case they concerned their daughter.

Little by little, genuine concern began worming its way into his heart and nestled there, gnawing at his peace of mind.

Not long after 6 PM, he got a message from Evelyn saying she and Ulf were on their way, and he spent an anxious hour and a half until they arrived.

"Hey, guys. Are....you okay...?"

"Grr - Yes...Just raw from the change. Had no time to eat."

"We'll be fine. There's half a deer in the icebox when we get back. Now, let's talk about what we came here to do..."

"Ahh yes..." *sniff* "A strong scent trail, we should be able to follow it without too much trouble."

Jacob was having second thoughts about the whole thing.

"Maybe...maybe we should go to the police? If we think something happened to him..."

"And say what? He's an adult, it hasn't been that long, and we have no proof anything's wrong aside from our gut feelings. Even if they do take us seriously, it'll be hours before they do anything. We could find him right now - hey there, sweetie! Whoa, you've gotten so big!"

"Okay, fine. But I'm going with you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"Why? Are you saying you think there could be danger involved?"

"I don't know, Jake. That's the problem."

"Well, I'm going! He's my - he's Olivia's father. My mind is made up, Ev, so let's not argue about it. Ulf, are okay to babysit?"

Ulf looked at his wife with sudden alarm.

"Hold on, I thought we were doing this together."

"We only really need one tracker, and I know Roman's scent better than anyone."

Ulf didn't like the reminder, but couldn't deny she had a point. It wasn't his only objection though.

"And what if there is danger -"

"C'mon, that's pretty unlikely - This is Mistvale, for Watcher's sake! I doubt anything here could threaten a werewolf. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on little Liv."

"You are the pack leader...but a husband can't help worrying."

"And you are very sweet to do so, but I'll be fine. Most likely scenario? We'll find Roman passed out on someone's couch and I get to kick his ass for making us worry."

"I do know you are quite proficient at ass-kicking."

"Damn right I am!"

The light and warmth of the building seemed to recede behind them all too quickly.

"This way."

Jacob was glad to have Evelyn's nose guiding them, because that damnable mist made it impossible to see further than twenty paces or so.

It made the streets seem even lonelier and dingier than they were.

[thesparklingwriter]

taking fate into one's own hands

07—accomodation

Word count: 1.3k

navi | taglist | masterlist

You find yourselves nearing the harbour and the need to ask Morax about your parents only grows larger and larger as time passes. Is this the kind of conversation you want to have surrounded by hundreds of strangers? You decide that no, it isn’t, and if you don’t bring it up now, you might have to wait hours. You silently clear your throat before looking up at Morax carefully.

“Might I ask you something?” Morax seems surprised by the way your voice suddenly pierces the silence, and slows his walking pace.

“Of course. Please speak freely.”

“What is it that my parents are so afraid of?” You blurt your question out before you’ve had time to properly formulate it in a way that wouldn’t seem so demanding, and resist the urge to cover your mouth.

Morax seems to be unbothered by your lapse in decorum.

“I assume you have read their letter?”

“How do you know about it?”

“They entrusted it to me to make sure it arrived safely. I know not of it’s contents, but I assume there weren’t many answers within?”

“None at all.” You sigh. “Surely you know something about this threat? You say it's not your place, but I implore you. I need to know.”

“I will not speak on behalf of your parents, especially when I do not know the full story.”

“You accepted this arrangement without knowing the situation in detail?”

Morax sighs, a rare wistfulness clouding his eyes.

“I came of age 3 years before you did. I came of age alone in a kingdom that needed a king but was handed nothing but a boy with a crown atop his head. The stresses that a position of that sort can carry is not one that anyone should have to carry alone, and it is a fate your parents believe your kingdom might be resigned to. I do not have to know the details of your situation to want to help.” As he speaks, for a single second, you swear you can see the boy Morax describes himself as. It's in the slight downward curve of his lips and the way he stares into the middle distance for a single heartbeat. 

“I didn't know…” you say quietly. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“There’s no need for you to apologise. But the reality of a position so lonely is not one I would wish on my greatest enemy. It is for that reason alone that I offered my aid. An alliance like ours always has political perks, but that was not my sole reason for agreeing.”.

You stare at Morax for longer than is strictly necessary. You had never truly considered the realities of his role as the king, or anything to do with him at all, in all honesty. You had spent so long seething in your room over how unfair the situation was that you didn’t stop to think about how this was affecting him. During your pensive silence, you and Morax resume walking at normal speed again, and the steady pace seems to help your thoughts make better sense.

You sigh, ashamed at your own selfishness.

“I suppose if we’re in the same position, it wouldn’t hurt for us to be friends at the very least. I’m sure I can look past some of my previous frustrations.”

“In the interest of peace?” Morax says, his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. “I’m sure I could find it in me to do the same.”

The two of you fall into an amicable quiet and you’re grateful for the noise of the harbour as a distraction as you finally each its epicentre. Your eyes are caught by the beautiful handcrafted necklaces and bracelets in the stalls, and you fawn over almost every piece. But despite the beauty, in the back of your head, you’re thrown off by the fact that no one seems to recognise Morax. Yes, he had told you that that would be the case, but how? Is it some kind of magic that prevents them from recognising him? Is it what he wears?

“How are you finding Liyue?” Morax lowers his head close to your ear. So close, in fact, that you almost drop the sparkling headpiece you’re admiring.

“It is pleasant. Warmer than home at the very least.” Your attempt at a joke falls flat as you turn to thank the stall owner. She seems to hear you but looks confused, looking up at the king for help.

“Xièxiè.” he says, and the shopkeeper smiles.

“Bù kèqì.”

And with that, you part ways with her, feeling a rare sense of uncertainty. How had you never noticed the language barrier here before?

You decide to address the issue the most pressing to you at the moment. “How do your people not recognise you?” you ask, and Morax lets out the first beginnings of a laugh.

“I have been dubbed with many names throughout my lifetime, as well as painted with many faces.”

“You speak as though you are some kind of immortal being, yet you are only three years older than me.”

“A year is a long time.” He says simply. “I fear a year can change a man in ways unfathomable to many. Just in the way the coming years might change you.”

You’re not sure you like the ominous undertone in his voice, but for the sake of your sanity, you decide to not press further, opting instead for a gentle hum of acknowledgement. You’re beginning to realise that Morax isn’t particularly good at giving straight answers to anything. Your eyes flit around as you take in the harbour, until they land on a fabric stall. Before now, you would have never found yourself even remotely interested in fabric, certainly not sparkling bluegreen silks that you know your people wouldn't be able to afford. But you've spent what feels like most of your conscious life in poverty. Would it hurt to enjoy the little bit of luxury you gave up your freedom for?

You snap out of your thoughts as Morax engages someone in casual conversation. You can’t understand a word of it, but it seems friendly. It’s unnatural. Sure, people liked you at home, but they never spoke to you with this air of normalcy. They maintained that you were their princess and they were to act accordingly. 

Morax finishes his conversation and you glance at him.

“Who’s Rex Lapis?”

“The very same person who stands before you.”

“Zhongli, Morax, Rex Lapis… How many names does one man need?”

“As many as will be bestowed upon him.”

You find yourself growing even more curious about the man you now reside with. “Which is your favourite?”

“Whichever you can bring yourself to address me by.”

-

“How is it that I never noticed the language barrier here before?” You ask Morax as you return to his palace. Maybe you should call it your palace too? You don’t know any more.

“You certainly have an abundance of questions today.”

“And you don’t seem to have an abundance of clear answers, your Majesty.” 

Morax’s eyes narrow. “There is no need for such formalities. As for the matter of languages, the palace help are fluent in all the languages of Teyvat. It is a prerequisite to their employment.”

“Has it always been that way?”

“Only as of late.”

A wave of confidence washes over you. “I should like to learn the Liyuean dialect.”

“That can be arranged. Xiao is very adept at languages, and so is the librarian, Zhi. I am sure they would be more than happy to tutor you.” Morax seems to notice your lack of enthusiasm. “You do not seem excited...”

note:

choosing the librarian will provide more knowledge on Morax's past.

choosing Xiao will provide more knowledge on Morax as he is now.

since i know you're going to choose the Morax option anyway, its a surprise.

notes: celeste misses zhong flufftober and is jumping hoops so she can write zhong fluff again yipeeeee

Taglist: @tartigglez @ainescribe @blue-sapphire-ink @mikashisus @local-lover-boy

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

So I saw a reblog of my gripes about "There Are Other Ways" in Epic: The Musical from @nerdygirl2023 where they mentioned how they get annoyed by Calypso's song, but mentioned they haven't read the Odyssey yet, but I HAVE and I'm about to REALLY RUIN "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" and I am NOT going to mince words! So, Trigger Warnings for Rape and Sexual Abuse.

So, why this song, despite being pretty is the WORST SONG EVER? I have MANY reasons. I'll start with the context in the story and then I'll dissect her song lyrics. It's going to be a LONG POST and I'm going to get salty so I'll add a TLDR at the end.

First, while Odysseus was on Calypso's island, she RAPED him. To prove my point, I'll give you six (double the amount I did for Circe's Coercion) and I'll bold the part that proves it was rape.

"So saying, the strong Argeiphontes departed, and the queenly nymph went to the great-hearted Odysseus, when she had heard the message of Zeus. Him she found sitting on the shore, and his eyes were never dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away, as he longed mournfully for his return, for the nymph was no longer pleasing in his sight. By night indeed he would sleep by her side perforce in the hollow caves, unwilling beside the willing nymph, but by day he would sit on the rocks and the sands, racking his soul with tears and groans and griefs, and he would look over the unresting sea, shedding tears."

2. "On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Odysseus, for she had heard Zeus' message. She found him sitting upon the beach with his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer home sickness; for he had got tired of Calypso, and though he was forced to sleep with her in the cave by night, it was she, not he, that would have it so. As for the day time, he spent it on the rocks and on the sea shore, weeping, crying aloud for his despair, and always looking out upon the sea."

3. "With this the mighty slayer of Argus departed, and the lovely Nymph, mindful of Zeus’ command, looked for valiant Odysseus. She found him sitting on the shore, his eyes as ever wet with tears, life’s sweetness ebbing from him in longing for his home, since the Nymph no longer pleased him. He was forced to sleep with her in the hollow cave at night, as she wished though he did not, but by day he sat among rocks or sand, tormenting himself with tears, groans and anguish, gazing with wet eyes at the restless sea."

4. "And in a moment vanished from her eye, The nymph, obedient to divine command, To seek Ulysses, paced along the sand, Him pensive on the lonely beach she found, With streaming eyes in briny torrents drown’d, And inly pining for his native shore; For now the soft enchantress pleased no more; For now, reluctant, and constrained by charms, Absent he lay in her desiring arms, In slumber wore the heavy night away, On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day; There sate all desolate, and sighed alone, With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan. And roll’d his eyes o’er all the restless main, Till, dimmed with rising grief, they streamed again."

5."The killer of Argus, the gods’ great messenger, said these words and left. The regal nymph Calypso, once she heard Zeus’s message, went away to find  great-hearted Odysseus. She met him on the shore, sitting by the sea, his eyes always full of tears,  because he was squandering his sweet life, mourning for his return. The nymph no longer gave him joy. At night he slept beside her in the hollow cave, as he was forced to do—not of his own free will, though she was keen enough. But in the daylight hours he’d sit down on the rocks along the beach, his heart straining with tears and groans and sorrow, as he gazed, through his tears, over the restless sea."

6. "The strong god glittering left her as he spoke, and now her ladyship, having given heed to Zeus’s mandate, went to find Odysseus in his stone seat to seaward—tear on tear brimming in his eyes. The sweet days of his life time were running out in anguish over his exile, for long ago the nymph had ceased to please. Though he fought shy of her and her desire, he lay with her each night, for she compelled him. But when day came he sat on the rocky shore and broke his own heart groaning, with eyes wet scanning the bare horizon of the sea."

Every translation I can find, says Odysseus was NOT WILLING to sleep with her, but SHE FORCED HIM. Now, tell me, dear reader: If Odysseus was the woman and Calypso was the man, what would we immediately call this? Oh, that's right. RAPE. That's RAPE. But far, far too often, I see posts claiming Odysseus doesn't deserve Penelope because she was faithful to him, while he slept with Circe (who he was COERCED to do so with) and Calypso (who RAPED him).

Now, onto the lyrics. These lyrics. I hate these lyrics so much that they put my disgust and disdain for "There Are Other Ways" TO SHAME. First verse, not so iffy, but the Chorus? OH, I HATE THIS CHORUS.

[CALYPSO] And if I pushed you Or if I came on too strong Or if I ambushed you For that, I'll say I was wrong And if you hate me Then I am sorry my love's too much for you But I'm not sorry for loving you

"Came on too strong"? "TOO STRONG"?! Calypso RAPED him and these lyrics downplay so hard what she did to him. Then she goes, "Well, if you hate me, I'm sorry my love's too much for you to handle." EXCUSE ME? That is so MANIPULATIVE that it makes my stomach curl. I've had toxic platonic relationships and this is a COMMON TACTIC. Instead of acknowledging, the abuse is downplayed as just Calypso was being a bit clingy or too forward with her feelings, surprising Odysseus, rather than her sexually assaulting the poor man and if he hates her, well he just couldn't handle her, so it's his fault. She just loved him sooooo much, so she doesn't have to be apologize for that. EUGH.

Onto the next verse!

[ODYSSEUS] Calypso

[CALYPSO] Let me speak I spent my whole life here Was cast away when I was young Alone for a hundred years I had no friends but the sky and sun So when you washed ashore I thought for sure that you were my dream come true I thought I knew

So before Odysseus can even get a word in edgewise, she cuts him off. She doesn't let him say ANYTHING about how he felt about what she did to him before she starts telling him how awful her life was before he washed up on her island. That's also a manipulation tactic: Look, my life was so sad and it was just awful before you came into my life and you made it so much better, so doesn't it excuse my actions and the harm I caused you? NO. NO, IT DOES NOT.

Onto the last part (I'm cutting the Ensemble because it's just repeating her lines):

[CALYPSO] I'm not sorry I'm angry and tired and restless and sad I'm stuck in the moments I swore that we had I wish you would chase me Or try to embrace me For once, I wish you would lie and say

[ODYSSEUS] I love you

[CALYPSO] You do?

[ODYSSEUS] But not in the way that you want me to

[CALYPSO] I hate that I fell in love with you Why did I fall in love with you? What do I do with this love for you? How am I supposed to get over you? Why in the world won't you love me too?

In the verse, she says "I wish you would chase me, or try to embrace me. For once, I wish you would lie and say" which is Calypso acknowledging that she knows Odysseus doesn't love her and never has. He was kind to her and never lied to her about how he felt, but she used her feelings and his kindness to pursue her wants and desires over Odysseus's health and happiness.

Then, Odysseus finally tells her what she wants to hear, but he admits that it's not how she wants. He loves her as a friend or as someone who helped him when he was at his lowest, but he does not view her as a romantic partner. She gets angry, but it's that last line that makes me so furious. "Why in the world won't you love me too?"

Odysseus was raped. He was violated. His consent was thrown out the window and he was still polite to her; the person that took away his consent nightly to the point that he would sit on the beach EVERY DAY and cry, just wishing he could GO HOME where he can feel SAFE. And Calypso can't even comprehend that she harmed him so badly that he was wasting away from the grief and pain. She just complains that he won't love her back and it sucks.

"I'm Not Sorry For Loving You"? SHE SHOULD BE, BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T LOVE HIM ENOUGH TO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT HIM. Loving someone, really loving someone, means you care about that person and even if it emotionally hurts you because you know they won't love you in the way you want, you still want them to be happy and you do what you can to be a positive influence in their life, without trodding on their agency. You may not agree with their choices, but you still are kind and respectful, and you don't use your feelings as an excuse to force your wants/will on them or harm them.

TLDR: Calypso is Odysseus's rapist and "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" is an abusive, manipulative song that isn't a proper apology to him in any sense of the word. It shows that, above all else, while Calypso says she loves Odysseus, she still values herself and her feelings over him.

[vibratingskull]

Mermaid!Thrawn x f!reader part 6

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Well, let’s just say your mother didn’t appreciate you coming back drenched to the bones in her home. For that you earned 3 months without the right of going out except for college and work, with a tracking app on your phone as a bonus. Seriously?

But today is the day your punishment is lifted, so you pedal like a maniac in the street of your small town to the library, texting Eli on the way. You roll along the cliff, near the chasm to admire the ocean as you ride your bike, you inhale the scent of ocean spray as you hurtle down the hill. Today will be a good day!

“So what do you search for exactly?” Eli asks, putting the microfilm in his reader, “I’m searching for articles on the death of the priests.” you explain, he stops mid-movement to look you dead in the eyes “You mean about this story my great uncle told you about?”, you nod and he sighs “Why?”, “I’m taking interest in true crimes lately, I just want to see if it could make a good episode to tell.” you lie. He sighs again but helps you nonetheless.

You spent around 3 hours searching through the archived articles of the gazette but found nothing potent, you press your lips into a thin line, disappointed, “The Gazette is more right-leaning, surely they would have talked about an incident at church…” he whispers, “Maybe the church opposed to the idea?”, “And lose an opportunity to play martyrs? Surely not!” Eli counters “We must have missed something.” You go back to your microfilms with more focus and it pays off! One hour later you got something

“Look at that! It says a gang of rioters put the town upside down on the night of the 6th, they tried to penetrate into habitants homes several times and even abducted an infant following “the incident at church” of the day prior,” “You think this is it?” he wonders, “The dates could match!”, “What happened next?”, “The parents fought off the abductors and saved their child, but it suffered grave cuts on the chest and back. They had to go to the hospital. The gang disappeared in an unknown location towards the sea.”,“Huh… Funny.” Eli comments. He doesn’t understand, it only makes sense to you for now. You change microfilms on your machine “Help me find the one published at this date, it should confirm my suspicions.” but impossible to find it. “You’re sure we got all the microfilms?” Eli asks suspiciously, “Yeah… I helped the librarian, there wasn’t any other box of microfilms.” then why one edition was missing? “You think the archives are incomplete?”, “That would surprise me a lot! You know how old towns love their archives.” he laughs. You bite your lips pensively, why does it have to be especially this one? Especially the one that could confirm the date and the incident. Crap! Is it a coincidence?

You rummage through all the microfilms, to no avail. You have to come to your sense : this edition is definitely lost. “Don’t be like that” Eli tries to cheer you up “I know! The University got a club of journalism, no? We could try their archives!” You nod feebly as you walk out the library, disappointed. Eli circles your shoulders with his arm “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was so close to your heart. It is a new hobby of yours?”, “Well you know how my mother hate when I paint. She threw all my art furniture in the bins after an argument one month ago…”, “Even the merman you were painting?” your heart pinch at that memory “Yeah, even this one… She knew I put a lot of my heart in this one…” Sometimes you can’t wait until you gather enough money to run away to the city and away from your family…

“Say… You know what could clear your spirit?” He proposes “Coming to church with me!” Eli smiles broadly. You gauge him up and down not amused “You know I would burn as soon as I step foot into the buildings? I’m an impious harlot, remember?” He winces and joins his hands together “Please… Don’t let me go alone… The new priest is terrifying!” he begs you with his eyes. You look at him with a light grin. Fearless Eli who would face up an ouragan on his fish boat is trembling before a man? You can’t miss that! “Alright, but only because it’s you.” you squeeze him back.

You sit down on the bench of the church, it feels more fresh inside! You tend to forget Eli’s family is pretty religious. Except his grand uncle. You always stayed together outside of church while Eli’s inside when you were young. He told you fairy tales and legends, your parents trusted him to take care of you during this one hour outside of Eli’s parent supervision.

When you rise your head to the altar  you understand what Eli’s meaned by terrifying. Perched up, judging everyone and their sins is Priest Tarkin, as cold as ever. You lower your gaze as your eyes meet, you realize everyone do the same. Nobody dares looking him in the eyes. You wanna whisper something to Eli but he’s already praying next to you, eyes closed shut, hand clasped before him, so you remain silent, looking at your feet. You discretely let your gaze navigate the room as Tarkin starts the mass to pass time.

And you froze.

Here… On the other side of the room, a few rows before yours… The gang that hunts Thrawn!

Eli yawns deeply, clearly not pleased to be on a bark at this hour of the night. “Tell me again why I accepted to follow you?”, “Because it will be worth it” you simply respond by paddling further away. He begrudgingly follows.

When you’re far enough you stop and take out your ukulele and start singing under Eli’s wide, confused eyes. He remains silent for 20 minutes and then explodes. “You have talent, I’ll give you that! But if you wanted to give me a show, my room would have been as good! and less cold.” He almost sneezes. But you don’t listen to him, you lean overboard and tap water to create waves.

You hope he will come

Surely he will come…

You then feel a claw grazing your palm and two red orbs under water. “Hi, Thrawn! Would you please hop on the bark? I got someone I would like you to meet.”, “Who are you talking to?” Eli grumbles, hugging himself in the cold “Fishes?”. 

You shout him a smile and take Thrawn's hand to help him on the bark. He jumps in easily and sits in like a king, slouching with his tail resting in water, floating lazily. You turn towards Eli with hope. He looks at Thrawn with round eyes and a mouth agape. Thrawn looks back to him with a thin smirk. Eli remains silent before finally speaking “What the fuck is that?”, “Not what: who! Eli I present you Thrawn. Thrawn, Eli.” Thrawn immediately leans towards him with his hand extended to him like you teached him. Eli jolt away. “Santa Maria, It moves!”, “Yes he moves, he’s a living being” you tempers, a bit annoyed “Isn’t he marvelous?” Eli gulps, eyes fixed on the claws of Thrawn’s hand “Seriously, who the fuck is this?”. “He’s my friend!” you exclaim joyfully, Eli cross himself “You’re friend with a monster?” he asks, utterly terrified. “He’s not a monster” you protest “he’s a person!”, “I’m sorry, I don’t know any person with claws, a tail and shark teeth!” he counters. Touché! You wince “He’s a sensible person with sentiments, you’ll see when you’ll know him better. Come closer! He won’t bite!” Eli remains still “Come on, shake his hand!” you encourage. Eli tentatively extends his hand, shake it with Thrawn and takes it back as quickly. “So? What do you think?” you shout, full of excitement. “I… I don’t know…”, “What? Aren’t you excited?! Isn’t it incredible? I mean, he’s a merman! A goddamn merman!”, “Incredible, that’s for sure…” He gulps “Listen… I think I will head home.” He takes his paddles, “You… You don’t stay?” you ask, your hopes getting crushed. “No… No, I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I … I’ll call you later, okay?” and he paddles away.

You look at him disappearing in the horizon, all of your excitement melting like ice under the sun. You turn to Thrawn who observed you both behind his folded hands with an embarrassed smile “I’m sorry it happened like that. I swear he’s a great guy!” You defend Eli, Thrawn tilts his head “He’s just… He’ll need a bit of time I think.” you murmur “I shouldn’t have thrown it to his face like that…” you sigh, saddened.

Thrawn remains silent, looking at you intently. You shake yourself up and offer him a smile “Let’s not talk about that!” you take out your little white board, some markers and your sign language book “I’ve find something for you to understand me better!” you laugh.

“It is quite useless. I understand you well.”

@blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @pencil-urchin @twilekchiss @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

☆Tag list

[evangelinesecondacc]

A/N: here’s the rest bitches, the end isn’t quite what I was planning on, but yeah

TW: SH, inclined depression

Part 3 and final of Love

6th Year: Bonds Strengthened

As the sixth year at Hogwarts began, Y/N noticed subtle shifts in Mattheo's demeanor. There were moments when his usually composed façade cracked, revealing glimpses of inner turmoil that tugged at her heart. It was during one of those crisp autumn evenings, as golden leaves carpeted the grounds, that Y/N found Mattheo staring pensively into the Black Lake.

She approached him cautiously, mindful of his tendency to withdraw into himself when troubled. "Mattheo?" she called softly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the evening.

Mattheo turned to her, a faint smile flickering across his face before it vanished into a mask of uncertainty. "Hey," he greeted, his voice tinged with a hint of weariness.

Y/N sat down beside him, feeling the chill of the evening seep through her robes. "Are you alright?" she asked gently, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Mattheo hesitated, his gaze dropping to the rippling surface of the lake. "I... I don't know," he admitted finally, his voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the water.

Concern etched across her features, Y/N reached out tentatively and placed a hand on his arm. "You can talk to me, Mattheo," she encouraged, her voice a soothing whisper.

For a long moment, Mattheo remained silent, as if grappling with his thoughts. "Sometimes, it's like... like I'm drowning," he confessed quietly, his eyes dark with unspoken emotions. "I try to keep it all together, but some days... it's just too much. There are things that I can’t tell anyone, Y/N, anyone…”

Y/N's heart clenched at his words. She had sensed Mattheo's inner struggle for a while now, his battles hidden beneath layers of composure. "You don't have to face this alone," she assured him softly, her voice filled with empathy. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Mattheo looked at her then, his eyes searching hers for something she couldn't quite name. "Thank you, but no one can help me" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled gently, squeezing his arm in reassurance. "I could never give up on you, Mattheo," she said earnestly. "I am by your side."

In the weeks that followed, Y/N found herself drawn deeper into Mattheo's world. They spent hours by the Black Lake, talking late into the night about their hopes, fears, and dreams. Mattheo gradually began opening up to her, sharing fragments of his past that he had kept hidden for so long.

One evening in the library, Y/N stumbled upon Mattheo poring over an old volume on Dark Arts. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his fingers tracing ancient runes on the yellowed pages. She approached him quietly, taking a seat beside him without a word.

"What are you reading?" she asked softly, breaking the silence that hung between them.

Mattheo glanced up, startled by her presence before his expression softened. "Just... trying to understand," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Y/N nodded understandingly. She knew Mattheo's fascination with the Dark Arts stemmed from a desire to comprehend the darker aspects of magic, perhaps as a way to confront his own demons.

"Sometimes, understanding doesn't come from books," she offered gently, her gaze meeting his. "Sometimes, it comes from within."

Mattheo regarded her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. "You make it sound so simple," he remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"It's not simple," Y/N acknowledged, her voice tinged with empathy. "But you don't have to navigate this alone. We're in this together, remember?"

A flicker of gratitude crossed Mattheo's features before he nodded slowly. "Together," he echoed softly, the word carrying a weight that resonated deep within Y/N's heart.

One stormy evening in early November, Y/N found herself pacing the Slytherin common room, her thoughts consumed with Mattheo. She knew he had been distant lately, retreating into solitude more frequently than usual. It worried her, the way he withdrew into himself whenever the weight of his past threatened to overwhelm him.

Unable to sit still any longer, Y/N made her way to Mattheo's dormitory. She found him sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain-soaked grounds with a haunted expression. Without a word, she took a seat beside him, drawing her knees to her chest as she watched the rain cascade down the glass panes.

"Mattheo," she began softly, breaking the silence that enveloped them. "Talk to me."

Mattheo sighed heavily, his gaze never leaving the storm raging outside.

“Mattheo, I know something is wrong, please, tell me, I am worried about you, and it’s breaking my heart to see you like this and not being able to help.”, Y/N says quietly.

He stays quiet for a moment, taking in the moonlight and the sound of the rain meeting the ground.

He looks at her for a brief moment, trying not to avoid her gaze.

Y/N can already see the pain and the trouble in his eyes, they look more empty than filled with life, they look hopeless, given up, and lost.

She puts her hand on his wrist to make him look at her, but she just flinches and tries to pull back his wrists.

Her face drops and she quickly rolls up his sleeve.

Y/Ns breath hitches, his wrist is covered in scars.

Mattheo stays quiet, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her face to scrunch up in disgust, knowing that she can’t see blood or wounds.

But she stays quiet, she doesn’t speak for the next few minutes, his wrist still in her hand and exposed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, she asks him, her voice is breaking slightly.

“That’s the thing that I wasn’t able to tell.”, he says hallow and quietly.

Y/N's heart clenched at his words, the raw honesty in his voice piercing through her own defenses.

"Why?" she asked gently, her voice filled with tenderness.

Mattheo hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "It was... a way to cope," he confessed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I felt like I deserved the pain, that it was the only way to release what I was feeling inside. Or maybe it’s the only way to feel anything.

Y/N reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't deserve pain, Mattheo," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "You deserve healing, happiness... love."

For a moment, Mattheo closed his eyes, allowing her touch to soothe his turmoil. He had never imagined someone could look at him with such compassion, such unconditional understanding. It scared him, yet it also filled him with a sense of warmth he hadn't felt in years.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm sorry for everything."

Y/N shook her head gently. "You have nothing to apologize for," she assured him. "You're not alone anymore, Mattheo. We're in this together."

Mattheo's gaze met hers, and in that moment, he knew he had found a lifeline in Y/N. She wasn't just a friend or a confidante; she was his beacon of hope, guiding him through the stormy seas of his past.

---

---

6th Year: Y/N's Unexpected Birthday Celebration

The days leading up to Y/N's 17th birthday were unremarkable, filled with the usual routines of classes, homework, and the occasional mischief in Slytherin House. Y/N had no inkling that her friends were planning something special, especially not Pansy, who had been unusually secretive.

On the evening of her birthday, Y/N found herself alone in the Slytherin common room, engrossed in revising for an upcoming Transfiguration exam. The common room was unusually quiet, most of her housemates having retreated to their dormitories or the library.

Suddenly, Pansy burst through the door with an exaggerated huff, as if she had been running.

"Y/N!" Pansy exclaimed, breathless but grinning mischievously. "Come with me!"

Y/N looked up, surprised. "Where are we going?"

Pansy wagged a finger in Y/N's direction. "No questions! Just come on!"

Intrigued and a little apprehensive, Y/N set aside her books and followed Pansy through the corridors of Hogwarts. Pansy led her through secret passageways and winding staircases until they reached the seventh floor corridor, where Pansy halted in front of a nondescript stretch of wall.

"Close your eyes," Pansy instructed, her voice barely containing her excitement.

Y/N complied, wondering what Pansy had planned. She heard Pansy muttering under her breath, and then the cold stone beneath her fingers shifted, revealing a sturdy wooden door.

"Okay, open them!" Pansy declared.

Y/N opened her eyes and stepped through the doorway into a scene that took her breath away. The Room of Requirement had been transformed into a cozy haven, bathed in soft candlelight and adorned with green and silver decorations. Plush sofas and armchairs were arranged in a circle, a long table overflowing with cakes, pastries, and an array of drinks stood in the center, and enchanted music filled the air with a soothing melody.

Surrounded by her Slytherin friends - Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy, and even Lorenzo - Y/N felt a rush of warmth and gratitude. They cheered in unison, "Happy birthday, Y/N!"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and joy. She turned to Pansy, speechless. "You did all this?"

Pansy grinned broadly. "For you, of course! Now come on, let's celebrate!"

As the evening unfolded, Y/N found herself immersed in laughter and conversations with her friends, the warmth of their camaraderie filling her with a sense of belonging. Mattheo, sitting quietly beside her, watched the festivities with a small smile playing on his lips. He had helped Pansy organize everything, though his mind seemed preoccupied with something else.

Later that night, after the cakes had been devoured and the laughter had softened into contented chatter, Y/N found herself seated next to Mattheo on a plush loveseat tucked away in a secluded corner of the room. The soft glow of candlelight cast gentle shadows across his features, highlighting the thoughtful expression on his face.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, breaking the quiet moment between them. "For helping with the party, and for being here."

Mattheo glanced at her, his eyes warm with a mixture of fondness and something deeper that he couldn't quite name. "Of course," he replied quietly. "I wanted to make sure you had a good birthday."

"You always do," Y/N teased gently. "Even when you pretend not to care."

Mattheo chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I'm not very good at pretending," he admitted, his voice tinged with self-deprecation.

Y/N reached out, gently nudging his shoulder. "You don't have to pretend with me," she said softly, her tone gentle yet firm. "I know you care, Mattheo. And I appreciate everything you do."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, unspoken words hung in the air between them - words of gratitude, understanding, and a growing connection that defied the challenges they faced individually.

As the night wore on and their friends continued to revel in the warmth of their shared celebration, Y/N and Mattheo remained in their quiet corner, content to simply be together. In the flickering candlelight and the soft strains of music, they found solace in each other's presence, their bond strengthened by the shared moments that bound them together.

After a few hours, they all go back to Y/Ns dorm and decide to play the game of truth or dare.

It starts off basic with Theodore asking Draco, what professor he would fire if he could, or Pansy having to ask a random student to use their toilet.

But later on the questions and dares get more interesting and unserious.

It may be because of the alcohol in their blood, or maybe because it’s two in the morning.

Questions like; ‘Blaise, what professor would you take back to your dorm for the night?’, or; ‘Lorenzo, I dare you to kiss Pansy’, which made Theodore chlench his jaw, while Pansy enjoyed seeing him jealous.

After a while, everyone was either to drunk, to tired, or both to talk.

Pansy was the only one awake and admired the beauty of Theodore before she noticed

Y/N sleeping on Mattheo’s chest.

She giggled quietly and pulled out her mugge camera, that she got from London and took a picture.

(Picture at the end)

---

7th year: The necklace

Y/N is sitting quietly at the black lake, enjoying the silence and the comfort of the night.

Every time she wasn’t feeling well, one could find her here or at Mattheos, when she wasn’t to find at Mattheo’s, you know something is troubling her.

Y/N is sitting on the ground, her back pressed up against a tree, the tree where her and Mattheos names were carved in.

They promised each other to stay friends for ever that day.

She smiles slightly at the memory of it.

And then she starts crying.

Her eyes fill with tears and she can’t seem to stop sobbing. Her throat hurts and makes her feel like suffocating.

“Fuck me”, she says angrily and tries to stop her sobs.

“My pleasure”, says a familiar voice behind her.

“Shut up”, she giggles and sobs at the same time and turns around to face Mattheo.

His smirk drops as he sees her face and hears her sobs.

“What happened? Did someone do something?”, he asks her and quickly kneels down next to her.

“No”, Y/N cries softly, with a little smile on her lips.

“Then why are you crying?”, Mattheo sits down next to her and grabs her chin to make her look at him.

“It’s just..- that I am very, very angry”, she cries as her smile fades again.

Mattheo eyes soften and quickly hugs her.

“What happened?”, he asks her softly while stroking her hair.

“I-.. I am sorry, please don’t be mad..”, she says quietly in his arms.

Mattheo starts to get concerned and his mind starts to wander to the worst case scenarios.

“Did someone touch you Y/N?”, he asks her now completely serious.

“God, no.. it’s not like that..”, she says now more relaxed.

“I promise I won’t be mad, but please just tell me you are scaring me.”

Y/N crawls out of Mattheos embrace and faces him.

“I lost the necklace you bought me”, she says to him. Her face seems devastated and ashamed.

“God Y/N, i thought something happened. Don’t fucking scare me like that.”, he exhales.

“I’m sorry”, she says now with a little smile etched across her face.

“Which one was it?”, he asks her.

“The little red heart one, I loved it so much and I don’t know how I lost it, but it just wasn’t around my neck anymore.”, she whines.

Mattheo smiles and nods.

“C’mon, let’s go back, you can stay at mine if you want to.”, he says as they start to walk back to the castle.

—-

The next day Y/N wakes up in Mattheos bed, but he isn’t lying next to her. She quickly checks the bathroom to see if he is in there but the bathroom is empty.

She quickly changes and runs out of the boy’s dormitory area and looks for Pansy.

She spots her sitting in the common room and quickly walks towards her.

Her cheeks are flushed from all the running.

“Hey Pans.”, she says as she plops in the couch next to her.

“God damn, did you guys fuck?”, Pansy asks with her eyes wide open.

“What?! No! Why?!”, Y/N asks her startled by Pansy and looks at her confused.

“Well first of all, I saw you last night going to Mattheos dorm with him, and second of all your cheeks are flushed red, you smell like him, and your hair is a mess. And I don’t think I need to point out his shirt that you are wearing.”, she giggles.

“God no, I was just sleeping over at his, I swear! He is my best friend Pansy!”, Y/N laughs.

“Yeah yeah..”, Pansy says sarcastically with a smirk on her lips.

“You don’t believe me? Look, no hickeys..”, she says and shows Pansy her neck.

“Okay okay, i was joking, I believe you.”, Pansy smiles.

“But you gotta admit that he is a little bit more than your best friend, hm?”, she giggles as she sees Y/N mouth wide open and quickly runs away from her.

“Pansy I am going to kill you”, she laughs while she quickly stands up to chase Pansy.

“BUT YOU ARE NOT DENYING IT”, Pansy yells while running away.

———

On the same night, Y/N is sitting on her bed and going through the pages of her new book, that she stole from Mattheos dorm.

Suddenly she heard a knock on her door.

Huh, it’s pretty late.

She quickly stood up and opened the door, just to see Mattheo standing at the doorway, his smile seemed to reach his ears.

“Hey”, he says and steps inside.

“Hey”, smiles Y/N and sits back on her bed.

“Where were you all day? I was looking for you.”, she says as she watches Mattheo sit on the other side of her bed.

“What, it’s Saturday, which means no classes, am I not allowed to have my free time?”, he asks her sarcastically.

Y/N rolls her eyes and smiles.

“I’ve got something for you”, he says before Y/N can even start a conversation.

“Okay? What is it?”, she ask him curiously.

“Close your eyes first”, he says and grins like a little chill that’s about to get ice cream.

Y/N giggles and closes her eyes.

“Put your hands out”

Y/N does as he says.

“Now open your eyes again”

Y/N quickly opens her eyes, just to see her lost necklace in her hands.

“NO WAY”, Y/N gasps loudly.

“You found it?!”, she smiles widely.

“Yup, let me put it on for you.”, he says and Y/N turns her back towards him, so he can put it on.

Mattheo puts on the necklace while she was holding her hair out of the way.

“That’s it”, he says and Y/N quickly jumps up to look at the mirror.

“God I love you”, she says as she quickly runs back to Mattheo and hugs him.

“Thank you so much”, she says and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No problem, love”

—————

Seventh Year: The Breaking Point

The pressure of their final year at Hogwarts weighed heavily on Y/N and Mattheo, each day blurring into the next under the mounting stress of NEWTs and the impending uncertainty of their futures. The bond between them had grown, but with it came an intensity that neither of them fully understood.

Y/N sat by the Black Lake, her breath visible in the cold winter air. The letter from home lay crumpled in her hand, the words etched into her mind. Her parents’ expectations were crushing, their disappointment palpable even through the parchment. She felt like she was suffocating under their demands, the weight of their hopes pressing down on her chest.

Mattheo found her there, as he often did, his presence both a comfort and a source of turmoil. He could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were hunched as if trying to protect herself from the world.

“Y/N,” he called softly, approaching her. She didn’t turn, but he saw the way her hand tightened around the letter. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” she whispered, the word barely audible. “I can’t do this anymore, Mattheo. I’m failing them.”

Mattheo sat beside her, the silence stretching between them. He understood that feeling all too well—the suffocating pressure to meet expectations, to be someone you’re not. But he also knew that Y/N was stronger than she believed.

“You’re not failing, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re doing the best you can.”

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not enough. It’s never enough.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over hers. “You are enough,” he said quietly. “To me, you’re more than enough.”

Her breath hitched, and she finally looked at him. The raw emotion in her eyes mirrored his own, a mix of fear, frustration, and something deeper, something they were both afraid to acknowledge.

Winter descended upon Hogwarts, bringing with it a sense of isolation that mirrored Y/N’s internal turmoil. The castle, usually a place of comfort, felt like a prison, its walls closing in on her. She withdrew from her friends, from her studies, and most painfully, from Mattheo.

Mattheo noticed the change immediately. She no longer sought him out, no longer confided in him. The distance between them grew, an invisible barrier that neither knew how to break. It was killing him to see her like this, to see her slipping away.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of classes, Mattheo found her in the Astronomy Tower. She was staring out at the night sky, her expression vacant.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice strained. “What’s happening to you? To us?”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge his presence. The silence was unbearable, a chasm that seemed to widen with each passing second.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “Please.”

She turned to him, and he saw the darkness in her eyes, the despair that she had been hiding. “I can’t, Mattheo,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much.”

“What hurts?” he demanded, frustration and desperation mixing in his tone. “Tell me, Y/N. Let me help you.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t help me, Mattheo. No one can.”

His own emotions surged, anger and helplessness boiling over. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to hurt? To feel like you’re drowning?” He pulled up his sleeve, revealing the scars that marred his skin. “This is how I cope, Y/N. This is how I survive. But it’s killing me, just like this is killing you.”

Her eyes widened, shock and pain reflected in her gaze. “Mattheo...”

“I’m not asking for your pity,” he snapped, his voice rough. “I’m asking you to let me in. To let me help you, even if it’s just by being here.”

She looked away, the weight of his words sinking in. “I don’t know how to let you in,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, his tone softening. “But you have to let me try.”

The vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty, broke something inside her. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around him. It was a tentative embrace, but it was a start.

The days that followed were a struggle. Y/N and Mattheo navigated their way through their pain, their connection deepening even as it was tested. But the tension between them remained, an undercurrent of unresolved emotions.

One night, after a particularly brutal argument over something trivial, Mattheo stormed out of the common room. Y/N, driven by a mix of anger and fear, followed him. She found him in the courtyard, the cold night air matching the chill between them.

“Why do you always run away?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Why can’t you just stay and fight?”

“Because fighting is all I know,” he shot back, his eyes blazing. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” she argued, stepping closer. “You’re good at so much more. You’re good at making me feel like I’m not alone. You’re good at making me feel...”

“Feel what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Like I am worth something? Like I matter?”

“Yes,” she shouted, the word echoing in the courtyard. “Because you do matter to me, Mattheo. More than anyone else.”

The intensity of her confession hung in the air, a tangible force between them. Mattheo stared at her, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Don’t you see?” she continued, her voice breaking. “You’re not just a fighter. You’re my friend. My...”

The words caught in her throat, the unspoken truth hanging between them. Mattheo’s eyes softened, the anger giving way to something deeper, something more vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Of losing you,” he admitted, the raw honesty in his words piercing her heart. “Of never being enough for you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she closed the distance between them. “You’re already enough, Mattheo. You always have been.”

He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped her face. “Then why does it feel like we’re both falling apart?”

“Because we are,” she whispered, her tears mingling with his. “But maybe we can fall apart together.”

The kiss that followed was a desperate, anguished thing, a culmination of their pain and longing. It wasn’t gentle or sweet; it was raw and intense, a release of everything they had been holding back. As their lips met, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them, bound by their brokenness.

In that moment, they found a fragile solace in each other’s arms, a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, they could weather the storm together. The journey ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and pain, but for the first time, they faced it not as individuals, but as a united front.

And that made all the difference.

---

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (epilogue)

for anyone who has no idea what this is about, go here for part one

for those who do, here's the ao3 link

there's a lot I want to say. the first, I guess, is that this isn't quite over—like I've mentioned many times before, I still have a bonus scene that's all hanzawa to tashiro. but this, here, is the end of the anomalous agate as it exists in seigi's pov, and as a case in the case files of jeweler richard.

out of curiosity, I found the longest case I could think of in the first two volumes of cfojr—case 2-3—and checked the word count. it totaled an approximate 21k, and with this epilogue, my case reaches the same total.

this is by far my favorite fic that I've ever written, so I could talk about it forever (I really might). but here, I won't say any more, and leave the epilogue under the cut:

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (epilogue)

Richard had always liked to read during his downtime. Rather than keep a stock of books in Jewelry Étranger, he liked to cart them back and forth from his home. Once, when I asked him if he’d ever considered purchasing e-books, we spent the next hour discussing the value of physical versus digital media. There were a lot of arguments for either side, but after analyzing the various pros and cons, Richard admitted that he just preferred the sensation of flipping pages and having the weight of a book in his hands. I tried to imagine Richard scrolling pensively through a tablet in his downtime, and the image was so jarring I almost apologized for asking about e-books in the first place.

Still, one of the cons we’d discussed about physical media was the fact that it took up way more space. Despite that fact, it felt like Richard always had a new book in his hands. I’d never seen his place, so I could only imagine that he lived in a palace with a sprawling library. Or, more realistically, a luxury apartment with a room the size of my apartment allocated for his books.

Most times, the things he read were texts about jewels that went entirely over my head, or books so thick that they were similarly impenetrable. Sometimes they were both. Today, though, Richard was flipping through the pages of a thin book with an illustrated cover. It was a deep blue color, and though Richard’s hand obscured some of the illustration, the blue of the sky was dotted with golden stars—almost like lapis lazuli.

This was enough to pique my interest, and I had downtime in spades, so I sidled up behind him.

From his relaxed position in one of the red armchairs, Richard glanced up at me. I must have successfully conveyed I’ll pace around the room unless you entertain me with my face, because the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

It had to be an awkward angle, looking up to see me leaning against the back of his chair and unrepentantly staring, but Richard made every move with elegance. I watched the way his hair began to fall away from his face as he tilted his head, opening up his expression into something a little more unreserved.

“What book is that?” I asked. 

“Le Petit Prince.” 

Le Petit? Sheepish, I said, “My English isn’t that great yet…”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “It’s French,” he said, and though the words themselves weren’t laced with malice, I could read the obvious Surely, Seigi, by now you must have learned enough English to distinguish it from other languages in his expression. “The translated title would be The Little Prince. I was reminded of it recently, so I’ve been rereading portions.”

I peered down at the page Richard had open. Sure enough, though I recognized the letters, none of the words made any sense. “What’s it about?” 

“Many things. But there was a particular scene…” He thumbed through the pages until I saw a simple illustration of a fox and a boy dressed in green. “The novel deals with a lot of things—it has a lot to say about the world, but one of my favorite moments in the travels of our titular character is when he meets the fox. The fox asks to be tamed by the little prince—here, he explains what it means.” Without hesitation, Richard translated the French before me into Japanese. “‘But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.’”

“…Tame?” 

“It’s an interesting word, isn’t it?” Richard said. “The fox defines it first as ‘to establish ties,’ but it’s still a peculiar way of expressing friendship. More truthful, perhaps.” He smiled. “Either way, I was reminded of the complications of your troublesome client.” 

There was only one person he could’ve been referring to—the one who’d bought blue lace agate earrings just the other day. I wondered if Richard had remembered the book because he’d seen the same bit of Tashiro’s green hoodie that I had, or because the cover had reminded him of lapis lazuli. But these musings took only a moment; I was stuck on the word tame.

It wasn’t something I’d ever heard used in the context of friendship, but the idea clicked with me. The word evoked a kind of dependency that I felt keenly. I glanced towards Richard. A tamed creature becomes unique, huh? If it was me… Richard couldn’t be anything but a prince.

“What’s on your mind?” Richard asked. 

I’d only recently put my foot in my mouth by comparing us to a married couple, so I refrained from trying to make comparisons. Instead, I chose to bring up a different curiosity of mine. “I was just thinking about how quick Hanzawa’s last visit was. I wish I could’ve heard him explain his choice a little more…” 

Richard set his book to the side. “The blue lace agate?” 

“It wasn’t even something you’d mentioned, so…” 

“I think that was Hanzawa-san’s way of showing initiative,” Richard said. “And it was a rather perfect stone for him. I was not needed for his choice in the slightest.” 

“That’s not true,” I said. “I—there’s no way what you said was unimportant.” 

Glossing past my words, Richard continued his speculation. “I’d mentioned, then, that agate is often dyed to enhance its visual appeal—judging by Hanzawa-san’s reaction to the word ‘truth,’ I’m inclined to think this is somewhat of a sore spot. But what it did tell me was that he was sincerely considering the jewel as a reflection of himself.” 

“…You really know everything,” I said. I’d run into Hanzawa twice, but Richard’s understanding of him matched mine.

“Not everything,” Richard said. “Agate is not metamorphic like lapis lazuli, but its banding pattern demonstrates a subtler uniqueness and complexity. I would think that choosing a naturally colored type of agate, which carries these qualities inherently, was a matter of pride for Hanzawa-san.” 

Pride was really the perfect word—I suddenly remembered Hanzawa’s words about needing strength to be anomalous. To be happy as you were… like Mami-san had expressed, it was certainly a hard thing to do.

“Maybe not everything,” I allowed, “but seriously, you’re spot on. I talked with Hanzawa a lot more than you did, but I didn’t make any of those connections.” 

Richard straightened up in his armchair, obscuring his face from my view. With a sigh, he said, “In this case… I have something of an unfair advantage.”

“Unfair?” I asked, leaning to get a better look at his face.

“Hanzawa-san and I… I believe the expression is, ‘cut from the same cloth?’ That’s the way we are. It makes me feel ill-suited to speak to him, and I suspect the feeling is reciprocated.”

“I don’t think you’re alike at all, though,” I said, studying the mild discomfort on Richard’s face. 

He looked back up at me, curious. “Why do you think so?” 

I wracked my brain for an explanation. If anything, I felt it was Hanzawa and I who were similar, but I couldn’t say why. I could see glimpses of Richard in Hanzawa—something about the grace they made look effortless, but it wasn’t enough for me to truly compare them. Finally, my gaze strayed to the cover of The Little Prince, and I blurted out, “You’re a prince, and he’s a fox.”

As if to prove me wrong in an instant, Richard laughed, his lips curving into a foxlike smile. But even as he did so, he looked like a beautiful, otherworldly prince who could have traveled to many planets before the two of us could meet. “It isn’t that literal,” he said. “Fox or prince; they tame each other the same.” 

Well, I thought, drinking in the visage of the beauty before me, I’m probably not smart enough to be a fox, anyways. “Maybe there’s something you haven’t noticed yet,” I said like the fool I was. “Tell me more about the book?”

After some hemming, hawing, and a promise of milk pudding from yours truly, Richard agreed. He opened the book at the beginning and translated the words before him in a smooth, beautiful tone.

My weight braced against the back of his chair, I closed my eyes, and let his words wash over me.

…If I was ever in Kyoto, maybe I’d get him some kitsune senbei.

-THE END-

[ramrage]

“fitting a square peg into a square peg” or “and they both were tops”

Chapter 3: lets get this bre(a)d

work rating: E

chapter rating: M

characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick cameo, John Price cameo

Tags: Sexual Tension, terrible flirting, Masturbation, First Time Bottoming, Fantasizing

part 1

part 2

ao3 link

“Fuck,” Soap said around a desperate exhale. He gingerly extracted his hands, rubbing the digits together and studying their wetness. 

“I need to talk to Ghost.”

 

 

Soap fell asleep with the ease typical of cumming one’s brains out, which was a relief because otherwise, surely he’d be devising a game plan until the sun came up. 

He woke several minutes before his alarm was due to scream its mechanical little head off, lingering for just a moment of stillness before springing up and out to meet the day head-on.

Nothing too unusual there. His body had long gotten used to its typical 0500 rise time, even more reliable on mornings before a mission. 

And what was this but yet another mission?

The main difference was that, instead of wreaking several flavors of havoc on the enemy du jour, he’d (potentially) be wreaking havoc on the delicate balance of his most-prized relationship. That, or he was setting himself up for the best few hours (no less) of his natural-born life. Scratch that. He was a c-section baby, so his birth wasn’t exactly natural per se , but the sentiment still stood. 

Talk to Ghost. 

That’s just about all he managed to iron out vis-a-vis his game plan. Would he pull him off to the side? How would he say what he had to say? He considered this, brows performing an intricate dance as he scrubbed at his teeth with an extra-normal amount of vigor. 

The eyebrows pulled down in a caricature of pensiveness.

Research question: is there a particularly elegant way to more or less say the following: 

Hey, things were weird last night. Y’know, the whole “both of us are tops” thing. Anyways, I want to shag the life out of you in any way that I can—no really. In any way that I can. So yeah, this is all to say that I gave the old fingers a test run—a joy ride, actually—and as generous Lady Luck would have it, not only am I open to the possibility of you fucking my ass into next week, I’m actually gagging for it. This is all to say, could you, would you please—pretty please—give me a one-way ticket to pound town?

Y’know, something like that.

Then he’d wait for Ghost’s response—probably a resounding “Yes please!” to which he’d respond:

Grand! Knew you’d understand .

Or maybe even:

Well, what are we waiting for? Christmas? 

According to his extensive research, Ghost would most likely tell him to shut the fuck up or some other such permutation of words to similar ends and then finally, fucking finally, they would have dirty, freaky, nasty sex until one or both parties were unable to walk normally for a minimum of 8 hours.

Simple as.

The end.

Smell you later.

But here was the rub: he had to find Ghost, and lord knows that could be a challenge on a normal day, let alone a day like the one he’d be walking into. The energy could very well be tense at best. 

Maybe he could just wing it. After all, fortune favors the bold and what’s bolder than propositioning your commanding officer sans plan?

Soap’s eyebrows were cocked at a strange angle when a dribble of spitty toothpaste slipped from the corner of his mouth. 

“Damn,” he said around the toothbrush. There was no way to know for sure, but he probably had spent the past five minutes assaulting his molars. Whoops. Happens to the best of us, and if you think about it, it’s better to do too much than too little. At least that’s what he told himself, shrugging. There were more pressing matters at hand, anyhow. 

 

 

With the minty-freshest breath known to man and a healthy quantity of nerves, Soap just about burst out of his door, swept forth by the awe-inspiring winds of horniness. A veritable hurricane of down-badness. 

The sun was shining brightly, the birds were chirping, baby deer were entering the world all wide-eyed, slimy, and adorable. It was a beautiful day filled to bursting with possibility and new life.

At least, that’s what it felt like.

The corridor swam with unintelligible chatter, but it sounded cheerful. The only light to speak of came from the nasty fluorescents overhead, but their smoker-tooth yellow was charming in its own special way. Even the hideous barf-colored linoleum seemed to be in a good mood, pressing kisses to the soles of Soap’s boot as he hurried over to the mess hall. 

“Nice morning we’re having eh,” Soap asked, grinning, to some Private he’d never spoken a word to prior.

They didn’t seem to get the memo regarding how fucking momentous this day was, so they just nodded or something and agreed, sort of taken aback. If Soap remembered correctly, they addressed him as “sir” which was indicative of the good health of the base’s hierarchical ecosystem–a good omen if Soap’s ever seen one.

He makes it to the mess hall in record time and is met by the most lovely chorus of voices, but while he was passively happy for the merry bunch, he had a very specific someone to speak to. Luckily, that specific someone was notoriously easy to find.

So it became clear quite quickly that Ghost wasn’t in the mess hall. Damn. But apparently Gaz was. “Alright, Soap?”

“No complaints, just trying to find Ghost so I can let him know he can fuck me up the ass,” Soap thought. 

“Lookin’ good, feelin’ good,” he said instead, clapping a hand on Gaz’s shoulder in greeting. 

Gaz was looking good, probably riding the post-mission high, as was his right. Soap would be, too, that is if he wasn’t too damn preoccupied. Speaking of, he didn’t have much of a reason to be lingering in the mess hall anymore, so he’d better be off. 

Unfortunately, Gaz took that moment to glance at his tray and then Soap’s trayless hands. “Hey, go grab some food and I’ll save you a seat.” Damn.

“Oh, naw, don’t worry ‘bout me. I was actually on my way out,” Soap lied, dismissing the offer with a friendly wave.

Gaz frowned minutely. “But you just got here.”

Damn damn. “Aye,” Soap laughed with a nod, taking that time to figure out a nice alibi, “aye. The ol’ Ritalin kicked in quickly today and completely ruined my appetite. I guess it’ll be a big lunch day, eh?” Inwardly, Soap pats himself on the back for such a good cover story. Whenever this whole special ops thing goes A over T, he could have a promising future as a spy or something.

“Ah, that’s a shame. Chow actually looked half-decent for once,” Gaz said with a commisserative smile. “Try to get something in you, though, yeah?” Soap froze. “You’re practically wasting away already.”

“Heh, you kidding?” Soap said. He flexed his right bicep in hopes it sold the joke more than his shaky delivery did. 

Gaz rolled his eyes. “Absolutely feeble.”

Soap rolled his eyes right back. “Eh, I’ll be sure to hit the gym, then.”

“You better. Best to stay on top of things,” Gaz mused. “See ya round.”

“Right, see you round.”

 

 

Soap booked it once Gaz turned away to look for a table. Might’ve even left a human-shaped cloud of dust in his wake.

“Steamin’ hell,” he thought to himself as he barreled down the corridor, making his way to the gym just as he promised. Of course, the whole motivation part was a bit different than advertised. “Get something in me ? Stay on top ?” Apparently the higher powers were amused by the whole situation. At least someone was. 

He was mere seconds away from barging into the gym when a voice called at his back.

“Sergeant MacTavish!”

He suppressed a groan. “Top of the morning, Cap.” Not sure where that came from.

Price shot him a strange look. “Switching teams, are we?” He ambled forward to meet Soap, looking amused as he went. “Trading your alba gu brath for eirinn go brach? ” 

“Ah never,” Soap dismissed with a put-on chuckle, “just keeping you on your toes.”

“No need to try for that, Sergeant. You do it quite well without the effort,” Price teased. He seemed relaxed, at least by his standards, and hadn’t yet saddled Soap with any bullshit tasks, so his presence here was something of a mystery.

Might as well address that head-on. It was that sort of day.

“So, what brings you to these hallowed halls, then?” Soap asked, settling his weight on one leg in preparation for a conversation that he really would prefer to not have.

Price gestured broadly to the dingy walls, “Just enjoying our day off with a scenic walk.”

“Heh, right,” Soap laughed. Still, no apparent reason for engagement. On any other day, Soap would be more than happy—enthused, even—to shoot the shit with his favorite Captain but, well, you already know. 

Price folded his arm over his chest and jabbed his chin in Soap’s direction. “What about you, then? Going to teach those weights a lesson?”

“Aye,” Soap said, flexing that right bicep again. “Gaz was saying I was looking rather small.”

“Never really liked that one much, if I’m being honest,” Price noted with a pensive frown.

“I’m saying.”

“Glad to hear we’re on the same page.” Sensing the relative lack of enthusiasm behind Soap’s response, Price slapped his thighs in that fatherly indication that he was about ready to go elsewhere. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Not one to pass on a perfectly good opportunity to throw a jab, Soap clicked his tongue, “Not sure how much good it’ll do me to putter around on the treadmill for fifteen minutes, but Captain’s orders are Captain’s orders.” He was already smiling at Price’s reaction before it even happened.

“Never really liked you much, if I’m being honest,” Price shot back with a scowl before continuing his stroll down the hall.

“Enjoy your walk,” Soap called just as Price was about to round the corner.

Soap was happy to be back on track, but he realized belatedly that he probably should’ve asked the old man where Ghost was. Well, too late for that now. He’d just have to roll with the punches, he decided, hoping with all the force he could muster that he’d be greeted with a pleasant sight once he pushed through the doors into the gym.

Okay, he took back all the nasty things he’d thought about those higher powers because lo and behold, who was sending a punching bag through hell but Ghost? 

Soap channeled those irksome nerves into strides that’d earn the envy of Olympic long jumpers and hauled his spritely ass to stand right behind the man of the hour. Nay, the man of the year. The man of forever? 

Nah, too much.

“Ghost!”

Ghost wrenched around at the waist as if puzzling out the precise context of an unplanned explosion. To be fair, it wasn’t that far off—he had trouble regulating his volume in ordinary circumstances. Soap cringed inwardly and tried to brush off the gaff.

“Soap, fucking hell, nearly burst an artery.” 

Funny enough, Ghost also looked like he was puzzling out the precise context of an unplanned explosion, which again, fair. He gave Soap a once over, looking sort of disturbed what with paint-covered eyebrows dipping below the orbital bones of his mask. Once he assessed the sight before him to a satisfactory degree, he grunted. “The fuck did you take this morning?”

His voice really was a treat when he was being rude. Soap’s face peeled open to reveal a grin that, while intended to look roguishly charming, came out sort of deranged, “A shower.”

“No you didn’t,” Ghost said, scoffing.

“No I didn’t,” Soap agreed. Not sure why he said that. In his head, he expected to be a bit more suave, but hey, back in the saddle.

A weird silence hung over them for a moment. This wasn’t ideal.

“Well?”

You’ve fucking done it, you absolute fucking roaster. 

“Hm?” 

“Just waiting for you to tell me why you decided to scream right in my ear is all,” Ghost said incredulously, shifting his weight minutely from one foot to the other.

Oh right, he had to talk to Ghost.

“I have to talk to you.”

Ghost took a second longer to respond than what would be considered his version of normal, which was already a second or two longer than the average metric. In that time, his slight air of discomfort solidified into something slightly more confident and on-brand.

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

Soap rolled his eyes at the obvious deflection. It wouldn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out why he was there. “I’d prefer somewhere more private. Classified information, and all.”

“Hm, intel from the mission?” Ghost mocked.

“Somethin’ like that.”

The door apparently became awfully interesting, because Ghost’s eyes were glued to it. “Last I checked, all of that was settled.”

Soap tipped his head, almost a shrug. “New developments,” he reasoned. He waited for Ghost to agree, to start walking, to fucking blink, but no, the man was stock still. Soap deflated on a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, don’t make me beg.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ghost said, rolling his eyes. Great timing. A pair of footsteps were drawing close at a decent clip and while his true meaning was obscured under a layer of bullshit, Soap really would prefer not having an audience as he harangued his commanding officer regarding their sexual relationship. “Right then, where did you plan on having this little chat?”

Might as well go back to square one, Soap reckoned. “How about your office?”

Now it was Ghost’s turn to sigh, all perturbed as if he wasn’t about to receive the best news he’d get all week, “Very well.”

“Right.”

CHAPTER 4

[tmwcs]

My Roommates Ex - Chapter 2

Okay here we go, on to chapter 2 of MRE. I'm going to finish editing chapter 3 and try to post tonight, along with 1st chapter of Mermaids Tale.

Pairings: Heeseung and you.

Warnings: Use of intimidating, use of force, heartbreak, and breakups. Not a whole lot in here, this chapter doesn't have any smut but is still a good read. Lots of angst and fluff. Mending of the heart, and touching moments in this one.

Summary:

The blissful drive became ingrained in your memory as both parked and continued to admire the view of the wide-open field. You both spent hours talking and laughing as you watched the cows and horses grazing, carrying out funny noises as they moved around or plopped themselves on the ground, struggling to get back up. 

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you had to ask in order to figure out how to go about the situation concerning Vicky. You looked over at Heeseung, who was facing straight ahead looking rather pensive, his fingers massaging your hand.

“You don’t have to say it…but just know I’m only asking because I’m struggling to find a way to tell her. Can you tell me what happened between you and Vicky?” Your voice shook in mentioning her name.

Remembering the last look he gave to her the night of the party, you didn’t want to stir that type of anger within him, thus bringing that same expression to meet your face when it was just you and him inside his car.

But he didn’t give it to you.

He remained totally unchanged and calm, still facing forward looking at the view through the windshield, his fingers kept stroking the ins and outs of your baby skin hands, he lets out a streamed exhale through his nose.

“Vicky made her choice…a long time ago in fact. I just…didn’t want to deal with it anymore…not after seeing you for the first time.” His voice was almost delicate, he spoke with emotions of anger, sadness, and happiness.

“So you don’t think…she won’t mind if I told her?” You responded. Faintly turning his face, he looked at you, still massaging your hand.

You looked down at it and watched, feeling too embarrassed to face him straight on.

“It wouldn’t matter if she did.” He replied. You felt compelled to explain; you carried the weight of the conversation.

“I know…it’s just…if I am going to tell her, I just need to prepare myself in case I am the cause of….you know…if I ruin our friendship.”

As badly as you wanted to keep Heeseung, acknowledging the fact that you would be giving up your relations with Vicky and the girls, whom had been the most stable friends you’ve had.

Heeseung raised his eyebrow at you in a perplex countenance. He leans in, the hand that massaged yours suddenly stops and grips you tightly as he brings your hand in towards his lap. He pulls you by that hand to bring you closer and meet him half way in front of his face.

“You’re not the “cause” of anything. You’re a reason. In fact, you’re THE reason.” You lifted your face to look at him, feeling overwhelmed by his words of flattery, you asked him as you gave a soft chuckle.

“Reason for what?” Your mouth wasn’t the only feature on your face smiling, he could see one in your eyes, along with the joy and innocence of being unaware on how much you truly meant to him.

“…A lot…”

He stared at you intently. His gaze was expelling all levels of compassion and love, his eyes moved around your delicate face when he gave his answer. He continued to add on to it.

“ You’re the reason why people reach for the stars. The one thing that makes a person get up even after a hard fall…the reason why we all keep walking and don’t stop moving.”

He spoke in the most loving manner as he commits to his usual habit of gently moving the hair out of your face so he could appreciate the full spectrum of your reaction.

As ever, Heeseung’s ability to take notice in the slightest bit of sadness or discomfort was beyond reproach, but his ability to ease you in was even better.

“Listen…you don’t need to worry about anything. We don’t have to be in a rush to tell her, we can take our time and whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready too. We can…keep this between us. If that’s what you want.”

The level of appreciation you felt as he displayed his understanding of this situation nearly brought you to tears. You slight nodded but before you could thank him in return, he added on;

“Although I’m not going to lie…I hate the idea of sneaking around just to get to you.” He chuckled as he made it aware that the affection he had for you was something he couldn’t wait to display in public. The thought of showing everyone that you belonged to him tickled his heart. Though he never would rush into it at the risk of making you uncomfortable.

“Thank you…and I think I would like to tell her…in a little while. I just want a few days to figure out how to do it.” He nodded in agreement, his finger tracing your jawline as you spoke and shyly looked down.

The both of you spent the entire peak of the early to mid-morning enjoying each other’s company, never even blinking an eye upon realizing how fast the time flew by. You both just stayed with one another and embrace the feeling of not having a care in the world.

You asked Heeseung to drop you off towards the back parking lot. You both coordinated a time to meet up at the same spot later in the afternoon once you both were able to get some rest and take care of homework assignments.

The lot was nearly empty, being it was Saturday, you suspect that many of your peers may have succumbed to a brutal hangover and are probably still dealing with the repercussions of a pounding headache. Heeseung walked with you to the back side-entrance of the building.

Before you could reach for the knob, he turned you around to face him as he gently pressed you up against the wall. One arm was hovered over your head, resting up against the flat surface while the other was placed on his hip, entrapping you for just a moment as he wasn’t going to let you go without a kiss.

The kiss seemed like it lasted for hours as he kept bringing you in to him. The hand on his hip moves up and cradles the back of your neck, pulling you in. Of all the times you had seen him with Vicky, you never once saw Heeseung with this level of infatuation or affection, the man could not keep his hands off you and you loved it.

Eventually you had to be the voice of reason, and put the riskiness of possibly being seen outside the entrance to an end. You reassured him that you would see him later, and with that he opens the door for you and lets you in, closing it ever so gently as you make your way up the stairs.

Entering the dorm, you were shocked to find Vicky still hadn’t arrived. The room was just as you left it earlier with Heeseung. After a long shower, you laid in bed preparing for a nap. Beginning to feel the effects of being awake since 4am, your eyes felt too tired to stay open any longer. You set your alarm and drift off.

You wake up a few hours later, feeling more refreshed. Noticing there was still no sign of Vicky, you figured she may have decided to remain out for the entire weekend. You get dressed and started working on your homework, getting prepared to see Heeseung after a short while.

Opting to keep it comfy casual, you dress yourself in leggings, a tank top, and a pullover hoodie over. Just as you were picking up your phone, about to text and see if he was awake, you hear the door slowly creeping open and watched Vicky enter the room.

Surprised to see you, she gently shuts the door and continues to stand and look at you. You’re not entirely sure why you both were speechless; however, you broke the ice as you greet her and apologize for not answering any of her calls or responding to her texts.

“I was so worried about you.” She disdainfully tells you while looking at you with a slight furrow between her brows. To which you nodded in guilt and admitted that you should have called.

“I’m sorry Vicky…I ended up having a rough night after I got back to the dorm.” You left your sentence short and vague, not wanting to breach the subject of Samuel.

It wasn’t because you were feeling hurt over the email, you’re well past that.

It was because you felt your heart shutter whenever you breached the topic of the event that took place that very same evening, inside your dorm. An event, that entailed the most passionate level of intimacy you’ve experienced, and it was with Heeseung. Oddly enough however, you still felt this urge to bring it up and speak with her seeing as how you both were alone, Gabe wasn’t around, and Heeseung was more than likely still asleep. You wanted to have that closure with her more than anything else, so you toppled over the idea on starting off by asking her about her current relationship with Gabe.

“…Vicky…are you and Gabe…?” You hesitated for a second, not entirely sure how to word the question. This was a lot harder than what you initially thought.

Vicky looked at you with a raised eyebrow, one that signified a hint of suspicion on how you thought of a question, regarding her and Gabe, when considering she didn’t say anything about her relationship with Heeseung ending.

“Gabe and I….I’m not sure to be honest, I’m still trying to figure that out. I haven’t had the chance to speak to Ethan yet.”

Your heart dropped at her mentioning that last bit, you started to tell yourself that it would be best to drop the conversation and leave it be for now. You had every intention of changing the subject, but Vicky continued the discussion before you could get a word out.

“Why do you ask?”

You continue to answer her. Though nothing was said yet, you started to narrow down a theory on what may have happened between Vicky, Gabe, and Heeseung.

“It’s….nothing I just…I saw how close you two were at the party last night and I…noticed Heeseung didn’t come to you.” She raised both brows in shock;

“How do you know Ethan’s birth name?”

“His friend, Jake, called him by that name at the party. I met him and his girlfriend Emily.”

“Oh. Did you talk to Ethan a bit?”

“Yeah…”

“Does he…let you call him by his birthname? He only allows certain friends to address him by that name. He wouldn’t even let me call him by it.” Vicky’s gaze started to drift down to the floor as she felt the pain in her own words and realizing that Heeseung gave you an advantage that she never got.

You also a stared onto the floor, nodding your head in a “oh is that right?” expression when hearing about Heeseung limiting everyone in knowing, and using his rightful name. You projected a question that you desperately needed to know the answer to. Even though she had made it clear with her plans in ending things with Heeseung, you got this feeling that she had a hard time letting him go, despite her truly feeling he wasn’t going to make her happy.

“Did…Heeseung not tell you why he ignored your calls and texts?” Vicky shook her head,

“No…he didn’t. Did he say anything to you?”

“No…”

“Oh….well, I was thinking about talking to him tomorrow, I’d figure I would stop by his frat house and s-“

Vicky was suddenly cutoff when the door abruptly opens, not a single knock was submitted prior to opening it. You watched as Gabe walks in. At least this time he had shut the door behind him, although, you weren’t entirely sure if that had sat well with you. This time it didn’t matter if it was considered rude, you had a problem being in a closed room with this man, even if Vicky was there with you.

“Vicky, are you ready?” Gabe was very curt with his words, he looked fed up, no doubt he was still feeling the shame and embarrassment from last night.

“No…sorry. I was just talking with Y/N and I hadn’t grabbed my stuff yet.” Vicky responded in a shallow tone.

“Well hurry up!” Gabe rushed her, giving her a swift push behind her back, and towards her closet, right before he turned to face you.

“So where’s your bulldog?” Gabe antagonizes you as he asks the ridiculous question. You knew what he meant but you wanted to throw his words back at his face by treating him as idiotic as the question itself.

]“Bulldog?…”

“Yeah, fucking Ethan. What the hell was his problem? And why are you instigating it?”

You were shocked at his accusation. “Instigating? Me?” you exaggerate your sarcasm as you point towards your chest and eyed him with a look of extreme annoyance.

“You know exactly what I mean Y/N, you always want to be a tease and flirt with me, but whenever I try to keep it friendly you somehow play a victim and always get someone like Ethan to beat other people up.” Gabe’s lengthy and rather fabricated response was entertaining.

Not sure if you were angry at this point or just in complete shock, you turned over towards Vicky who was watching the whole interaction with arms crossed, not even displaying a hint of interest in breaking off the displeasing conversation happening before her. You had desperately hoped that she would see right through him, realizing that he was spilling out a heinous lie in her presence, to paint himself as an entirely different type of man than what he really was.

But her lack of judgement regarding the conversation tells you that she didn’t see anything, apart from Gabe’s capabilities to shower her with his father’s inheritance. You took it as fair game and decided to take the gloves off.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that obvious lie. In fact, I’m done having any sort of interaction with you.” Upon harshly relaying your statement to him, you turned towards Vicky, he was still looking on the floor, rather dead inside. But it was her turn.

“Vicky…why are you with him? He’s no good. He doesn’t respect you or your friends. He’s been lowkey harassing me whenever you’re not around or looking, and I don’t think he would take care of you the way you think he would.” You said a mouthful, and you felt bad for being so blunt, but it was way past due.

Vicky didn’t say anything, instead she just looked at you. Unable to tell if she was giving you a look of disbelief or if it was just one reflecting her annoyance with what you had just said.

Gabe scoffed and turned his eyes away, looking offended as usual. He overexaggerated a look of disbelief as well, insinuating that he was incapable of committing heinous acts against you.

“Vicky…you’re a nice, kind, and beautiful girl. One of the prettier ones I’ve ever seen. I don’t understand why you limit yourself, when you have so much going for you.” You continued, trying to reach through to her by appealing to her as a friend, since your earlier statement was rather harsh.

Vicky just simply went back to eyeing the floor, only this time it was off the side as she stared into the abyss.

Gabe began getting impatient, he grabbed Vicky’s arm and ushered her to hurry up and grab her belongings. He snapped his head around to face you afterwards, exposing his gritted teeth in annoyance.

“And you…” He grabbed your wrist as he continued.

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you! I’ve always complimented and told nice things to all my friends about you. You’re selfish!”

You were amazed at how committed he was in playing out this act. You tried to break away from his grasp, but your movement in trying to get away propelled him to tighten his grip. He yells out at you for moving as you try to release yourself.

“Hey!” You look up, your eyes were met with Gabe’s mouth remaining open as he frowned heavily. You turned to look over to Vicky, she was starting to look nervous and seemed like she wanted to stop him before things escalated, but she was hesitant.

Just then, you hear the door open once more. Heeseung notices you in a wrist lock of Gabe’s grip. Not wasting any time, he walks in, leaving all gestures of formality out the window.

He was oddly calm. Not at all displaying the heated, short-fused aggression as he did in the past.

Instead, he walked over towards your side in a nonchalant manner, keeping steady eye contact with Gabe.

His hands were tucked in the pockets of his straight jeans, the white t shirt draping his upper body was deceiving as it made him appear slenderer, hindering anyone to see how he was truly built underneath, and his shaggy hair was yet again, crowned by his fitted baseball cap.

He showered a certain aura into the way he was conducting himself as he walks towards you, still eyeing Gabe.

He was setting the tone, making it aware that he has no reason to waste his energy in getting angry, and that he had the luxury to be this calm. Because he knew, now that he was there, Gabe wasn’t going to do anything.

Heeseung sensed the fear in Gabe, long before he stepped foot into the room. No matter how much the boy tried to put off an act, Heeseung could see it plain as day and he used it to his advantage.

You felt Gabe’s hand loosen around your wrist and he hastily releases, dropping his hand by his side. He was nervous at seeing Heeseung’s tall and lean body approaching closer towards him, appearing gigantic as he towered above him. Heeseung glared at him and retorted upon seeing Gabe release you.

“Smart move.” Heeseung simply relays to him with a very firm, steady, and slow tone while raising his eyebrow in a fierce manner.

Obviously taunting the man, knowing that not a moment too soon he would have felt the clash of Heeseung’s fist to his face. Fortunately, he was smart enough to release you in time, right before Heeseung planted himself next to you, facing his direction.

Heeseung briefly broke eye contact, turning his head off to the side, he looks down at your wrist, taking a minute to visually examine it for marks. His jet-black gaze drove along your hand, arm, and even up to your shoulders. With that same stern voice, he lets out a warning.

“I wouldn’t touch her ever again. In fact…” Turning his face back to Gabe, he stares directly into his eyes at the last bit of his sentence. “If I were you, I just wouldn’t go near her.” He finishes as he leans his head back, just enough to reveal the exposure of one of his eyes to peer from under the bill of his trusty hat.

Making a sharp, direct, and unbroken eye contact with a very nervous and quiet Gabe.

With the lift of his chin, as he projects his face to look up at the towering stature of Heeseung’s form, Gabe let out a loud gulp, trying to prevent the look of fear to show through upon hearing his warning. Vicky looked as if she saw a ghost. Her hand placed over her mouth in shock as she watches Heeseung plant himself next to you, still eyeing Gabe down with his usual glare. The urge for her to speak overtakes her better judgement as she spat her words out.

“Heeseung…what are you doing here?” He shot a look towards her; it was comparable to the one he gave last night at the party.

“Since when?” Heeseung’s words and tone was direct and very firm towards her.

“When did I ever say you could call me by that name?” His voice was semi hostile towards her, you somewhat felt a little sorry for Vicky as you witness her body legitimately winced back as she lowered her head in embarrassment.

“Sorry…Ethan. Y/N told me she calls you Heeseung so I thought…” Heeseung cuts her off with the shaking of his head as he shot a peeved look to her. That was enough for her to get the point. She went back to her originally question, apparently desperate to get the answer.

“So what are you doing here?” She still was avoiding all eye contact with him.

Looking at Vicky silently for a few seconds. He sets his sights on Gabe, his eyes shot a different type of stabbing glare than the one he gave to Vicky, it was more hostile.

“Saw Gabe’s car in the parking lot. Figured he’d be here with you, and that didn’t sit well with me. So I came up.” Heeseung remarked as his eyes shifted to the side to look at you before look back at Gabe. His lips began to snarl.

“Actually, Gabe anywhere near this building doesn’t sit well with me either…not one bit.” His voice reached a dangerous tone of low, like the growl of an angry lion.

Vicky looked up at his statement, waiting a moment to catch her breath before speaking.

“…I told you we’re good friends. We jus-“ Heeseung snapped his fingers at her and a simple “Quiet.” Emerged from his lips. You’ve never seen him so demeaning towards a woman before, let alone someone like Vicky. You couldn’t hide the sudden breath that escaped from your lips as the shock stung you.

Vicky was taken aback, the glossiness in her eyes overwhelmed her as you witness small drops trinkling down. Heeseung on the other hand, was relentless with his attitude, there was a sense he expelled out through his actions that Vicky had crossed the line.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with your brain, but you should already know that we’re done. In fact, we’ve been done for a long time.” He spoke out, his tone was a little softer this time.

Obviously referring to when he ghosted Vicky, literally days after he agreed to start driving her to classes, yet you also got this feeling that he was letting on a lot more regarding the untimely end of their relationship.

Vicky’s mouth shuttered wide as she heard Heeseung’s statement. She even muttered a “What?” as she looked at him, begging him to clarify. He started to get a look of annoyance as Vicky’s response triggered him to feel as though she read the words “FOOL” on his forehead.

“Vicky…I’ll give it to you, you’re beautiful. You’re like a firework. Any man would be lucky to have you by his side. Any good one would cherish you eternally.” Heeseung’s tone calmed down back to his original relaxed one.

Vicky displayed a look of shock with a very faint smile forming at the corners of her mouth, seemingly flattered by his choice of words in acknowledging her looks. You got a feeling that he may not have expressed many compliments during the time they’ve known each other, which was a lot longer than the time he knew you. Yet, ever since last night, he coated you with words of worship on the very ground you walked on.

Vicky’s smile started to grow bigger, that was until Heeseung took one look at Gabe. His follow-on statement ultimately crushes her.

“But the moment he finds out your priorities are messed up, and that you do messed up things, he’s going to take it all back and resent you.” Silence filled the room, there was a pause filled with deathly stares shared between Gabe, Vicky, and Heeseung.

Heeseung looked over to Gabe and gave him an expectant look, one that hinted that an answer, or an explanation was due to him. He turned his look back to Vicky once more.

“I’m curious now that we’re finally talking about it. Exactly, how long has it been going on Vik? Was it just him or were there others?”

Heeseung’s words and tone became snarky at the last bit. Vicky shot a daring gaze at him, insulted by his statement.

“Is that what you think? You think I slept with a bunch of men behind your back?” Vicky retorted.

“You tell me, I know of at least one.” Heeseung’s words flew right through her as he looked at Gabe when he spoke out.

Vicky’s eyes widened and grew tearful, no way of holding them back, they started drowning out her peachy tinted cheeks. Sobbing, remorsefully, she responds.

“…It’s only been one…sorry…” The “sorry” came out broken as her voice was hiccupping at the sobs of her sadness, the guilt overriding her conscious. The conversation between the two continued.

“When did you find out?”

“I’ve been finding out about it for a while.” Heeseung admitted openly, disclosing Vicky’s infidelity to the room. His voice was much softer and calmer, almost as if he too was feeling remorse.

“Why didn’t you say anything or come to me!” At Vicky’s urging for an answer, Heeseung looked at her rather pitifully. As if he did feel sorry for not telling her sooner, but he maintained the stance of his countenance to reflect that she is wrong, not him.

“Would it have changed anything? With you? Would it have changed you?” Vicky was at a loss for words. Unable to answer his question, she continued sobbing as she stared at the floor.

“I also know…that you had plans.” He let on, earning more surprised looks than what he probably was expecting.

“Like…being unhappy with me, wanting to leave this place…wanting to leave me.” Heeseung continues to disclose all of Vicky’s supposed secrets. He knew of her true feelings and what she had been shamefully doing with Gabe, yet this was the first time he confronted her on the matter.

“…I wouldn’t have done any of it! If you had been just more dedicated into-“ Vicky’s words were cut off by Heeseung, noting the color of his energy, Heeseung’s annoyance reached the peak of its level.

“Stop.” Heeseung simply said. Another dreadful silence continued to cast its mark on everyone before he clarified his interruption.

“I was dedicated.” Heeseungs tone going back to calm. Vicky shook her head in disagreement at his words, in which he responded with raised brows, wide eyes, and a shred of defensiveness as he explained.

“Oh yes, I was. I may not have been dedicated towards what you wanted, but I was dedicated. I was dedicated to you. Beautiful girl saying she loves me. That she wants to be with me. Why wouldn’t I be dedicated?”

Heeseung’s feelings were beginning to come out through his words. “So what then? What? Are you going to sit here and point fingers? Or are you going to continue to ignore me forever? You could of at least told me so I could hav-“ “Moved on?” Heeseung abruptly finished her sentence, continuously looking at her with his brows raised.

Vicky just stared wide eyed, feeling the guilt coming back and punching her gut as she realized that she was being selfish. As hard as it was to admit it, and that she had her reasons for acting this way, she knew she couldn’t keep going in that manner. You had deemed that enough had been said.

You walked and stood in front of Heeseung, next to Vicky. Consoling her by placing your hand on her shoulder and rubbing it, you looked directly into his eyes, also reflecting a look filled with sympathy and comfort. In your mind, they both deserved all the consolation you had to give. You personally didn’t find fault in either one, nor did you feel that one side topped over the other.

The voice of your father emerged from the back of your head; it was of him giving you one of his life lessons. You could hear the shadow of his voice as it grew clear and loud in your brain…

Flashback “Sweetpea…sweetpea where are you?” Your father finds you on the steps leading to the front door.

You sat there, hurt by the actions of your best friend, Denise. A massive event was taking and your school district was asked to nominate a student to sing the National Anthem at the opening of it. You secretly disclosed to Denise that you were going to audition after receiving the encouragement from your choir teacher, in which Denise responded by telling you that all remaining auditions were called off on short notice. Stating that due to her title as class president and working directly with the main staff and the teachers, her sources were valid. It was believable. You also would never have guessed that she would never lie and manipulate you away from a rare opportunity.

The next day you found out that not only did Denise lie about the auditions being called off, but that she went to one that same morning, and to your dismay, she won the nomination. You felt crushed and betrayed and immediately took a bus back home, knowing the school called your parents to notify them of your unexcused absence. Your father knew from all the times you were upset, your confining spot was sitting on the brick steps admiring your mother’s rose garden. After reassuring the school that he would take care of everything, he goes outside and sits right next to you.

“Come here my girl. Tell papa all your problems, now, what’s wrong?” You explained to your father of everything that had happened. He nodded and looked at you with a smile, noticing your tearful eyes and sulky attitude, he found it adorable and cherished it, even though he knew you were upset.

He was a father after all, everything you did was heartwarming to him, it didn’t matter if it was relating to anger, sadness, confusion, or joy. Just the fact that he gets to experience every aspect of you, made him as a father, develop a fondness for moments such as this one right now. He cherished every single one, no matter if it was good or bad. He always filled the setting with a smile of gratitude, enjoying it while he can, because he knew someday, he was going to have to say goodbye to it.

“You know Y/N…. life works mysteriously in strange ways. There are countless times where we think we have it all figured out, come to realize we don’t. We think we know what we want in life, yet we go on trying to find out the meaning of it.”

You remained in place as your hands cupped your cheeks out of frustration as you stared at your mother’s roses while listening to your fathers’ words, trying to find the sense in it.

“Sometimes…when we want to be happy…we go looking for it, sometimes going into the wrong places to find it. We as humans, we want to be happy. We want to be happy so much, that we end up hurting ourselves and our loved ones in the process.”

You were 15 at the time when your father gave you that lesson. As you grew; graduating high school, enrolling into college, moving into a dorm, making new friends, and most importantly, meeting Heeseung, you didn’t understand your father’s lesson until the night Samuel sent you the email. You understood it with Heeseung’s help and now, you understood clearly as you examined the situation between the group, to even include Gabe.

Looking at Heeseung, you silently mouthed the words “I love you” to him and gave him an endearing look as you continued to console Vicky while she sobbed. Heeseung softly smiled back. In a moment such as this one, he would give anything to pause time to savor it.

You hugged Vicky, gently cradling her face with your chest as you softly signaled Heeseung to stand firm, hinting that you were going to talk with Vicky. You turned to look at Gabe, who was displaying a look of frustration and embarrassment, you politely asked him to step out for a moment so that you could speak with Vicky, assuring him that she will meet with him afterwards. You appealed to him as a human being, even if he had been less than of an impeccable one.

He didn’t argue or display any form of objection, he couldn’t, not with Heeseung standing there. He simply nodded and walked out.

You walked Vicky to her bed, sitting right next to her. She couldn’t stop crying, it was tough for her but the moment she was next to you feeling the comfort of your arms around her shoulders, she spilled out a line of “I’m sorry” towards Heeseung.

You gently shushed her, trying to have her focus on catching her breath as the sobs were already shortening each one, let alone her repeatedly apologizing. Finally reaching a level of stability in her breathing and sobbing, Vicky spoke first.

“Are you…both together?” She looked down at her hands as she asked. You were beyond surprised at her question, you did good for the most part in maintaining your composure, but your eyes gave it away as they grew wide as you looked right back at her, your arm still wrapped around her shoulder in comfort.

Heeseung didn’t looked surprised, he looked as if he expected her to know. You were beginning to question yourself if he possibly told her before she came back to the dorm but found it highly unlikely since you were certain that he had no interaction with her until this very moment.

Heeseung merely stood there, facing the both of you as you sat on the edge of her bed. Just as you appealed to Gabe, Heeseung appealed to Vicky as he began to explain yourselves.

“If you’re mad…take it out on me, not her.” His eyes no longer looking at Vicky, instead he reflected a tired eye look as he stared at the floor beneath your feet.

“I just…why? I don’t understand. What happened with your boyfriend?” She turns to you as she mentioned Samuel, before facing back to Heeseung and proceeding.

“What happened to you? Just somebody…please explain this to me.”

You were at a loss for words, you didn’t know how to explain, there was no way she would understand unless she had been in your shoes and experienced every second of what you went through with Samuel. Heeseung took over the conversation.

“I never meant to hurt you. I’m not entirely sure if I caused you to do act the way that you did. I just knew that I wasn’t making you happy, therefore you made me unhappy.” Heeseung’s face almost looked expressionless, just a hint of tired was marked.

“Why…I really do love you I just…why couldn’t you just be more like…like…” she stopped at mid-sentence, realizing that was she was saying only proved Heeseung’s point.

“I can change a lot of things Vik, but there are some things you have to accept. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to hurt…and I don’t want to be hurt.” Heeseung concluded his side of the argument.

Vicky simply stared at his face as his eyes remained glued to the floor. She turns to you with her wide and swollen eyes, she asks you a question that you weren’t prepared to answer, especially given that you and Heeseung just established an intimate relationship last night. You both haven’t tread near the topic of your relationship and the details of it, you just knew in your heart that you cared deeply for him and that you didn’t want to be without him, but that was something you had kept to yourself. That was up until Vicky asked you,

“Y/N…do you love…do you love him?” You silently gulped.

Your eyes moved over to the window next to Vickys bed, then moved it back to look the other way towards her desk. With Heeseung standing in front of the both of you, he appeared to look just as interested in your answer as Vicky was. The spotlight was on you, having no idea how it ended up being that way considering this started off as a matter between Heeseung and Vicky.

With newfound bravery, you relayed your answer by softly biting your lower lip, subtly squinting your eyes shut and nodding in the affirmative. You heard Heeseung’s smirk as a breath of satisfaction escaped his lips. You slowly opened your eyes but didn’t have the courage to look at Vicky and felt too shy to look at Heeseung. It was your turn to stare at the floor.

Vicky turned her head and closed her eyes. You couldn’t tell if she looked hurt, tired even, or maybe both. You were prepared for a reaction that would include lashing out, screaming, crying, and insults flying at you.

Yet, none of that happened. Vicky simply turned back to you and took your hand; her tears were beginning to stream again as she looked at you with a rather hopeful look on her face.

“You know…I never meant to hurt him. Right?” You answered her question by nodding once more, you just couldn’t find your voice in this situation, all you could do was nod.

“But I did…I did hurt him.” Vicky let out a slight smile, not out of joy or sadness, it was a smile of relief.

“Take care of him. If anyone could, it’s you Y/N.” She says to you as she gently squeezed your hand. Vicky had her flaws, but her heart was not one of them. You always knew she was kind and understanding, maybe not towards herself, but with you, she never ceases to amaze with her warmth.

With your hand still in her grip, she smiles at you upon receiving your answer, giving you reassurance that she wasn’t mad or holding anything against you. She then turned to face Heeseung, gently releasing your hand after one last squeeze, and stood up to confront him.

“I already know you’ll be good. You always have been to me. And I’m sorry for not being better, my lack of judgment got the better of me. I never realized that what I wanted the most in life…I already had it. The thought of getting spoiled with a life of comfort, stability, and traveling, that all was so appealing, and I just got lost in it all. And I’m sorry. Because now I truly know…especially now that I know I’ve lost it for good…those things don’t matter compared to having you, Heeseung.”

She smiled, ignoring his snapping from earlier when he warded her from using his birth name.

She pulls him in by his neck and hugs him. It was the most compassionate one you had seen between the two, all the ones that she had with Gabe couldn’t compare. Even though you were grateful for how things were turning out, you were feeling saddened at the sight of her giving Heeseung a final embrace, it was only natural, they had history. The trophies they collected within the time they had known each other was way more than what you shared with Samuel. You could only imagine just how many laughs, tears, screams, and kisses her embrace was putting an end to.

Heeseung took both his hands out of his pockets, yet only one returned Vicky’s embrace as he wrapped it around her upper back, softly admitting a gentle rub as he shifted his gaze to various spots on the floor. He patted at her shoulder blade, hinting to her it was time to let him go, and she did.

[itwasthisorthemilitary]

March 20th, 2024

It’s Chloe’s birthday. I knew this would happen, but I’m more upset about missing her birthday than I am about not being home for my own.

Struggling this week, feeling full of energy and wanting to participate, but being hindered by waiting (not so patiently) for my feet to heal. And unfortunately I jumped the gun today with socks and hiking boots, and made it approximately 3 hours into class before I was sent to sit in the car and remove my shoes. Infuriating.

So physically I can’t be as present as I’d like. But having to take a step back from the activities has given me more time to really hang out with this family. Our days here are long and the other trainees only really see their families at breakfast and again at 7pm. I’ve been doing half days so I get way more face time with my family here to really connect. And lemme tell you, It’s going to be very hard to leave this family. Been so refreshing to sit and talk to men here that don’t make me uncomfortable, i truly think that is such a cultural difference between Panamanians and Costa Ricans. Watching the History Channel and drinking coffee with my grandpa, doesn’t feel all that different than being home. I saw my uncle and his girlfriend tonight and they gave me a tigers eye necklace. They told me it was to help give me courage and confidence to build a life at my new site wherever that may be. (But they hope it’s in Chririqui so I can visit, I agree).

Chririqui is beautiful, I love the mountains, the weather, and the proximity to Costa Rica. We visited a coffee farm and spent today planting coffee bean seedlings. I’m defintely hanging out with the other trainees less this week but I kinda enjoy the feeling of confidence that once I’m at my site alone I’ll be able to manage just fine.

Ahmet leaves Monday, I can’t look at him or Audrey without getting a lump in my throat. The thought of leaving the office on Monday and him not returning to Los Mortales with us feels so wrong.

Tomorrow we go to Jurutungo National Park and i am SO excited. Will i potentially re-infect my feet? Yes! Was a man mauled by a jaguar there? Also, yes!

Feeling very pensive tonight and missing Chlo tremendously. My takeaway is that I’m very grateful for the relationships I have made here in only three days.

[strawberry-skies-xx]

13, 20, & 22 for the fic asks! fic i choose for 22, of course, that fucked up girl <3 and the mori dazai fic w the matcha tea....both fics have me by. CHOKEHOLD

*walks in 2 days late w iced coffee* that reblog spree on your blog is bc i couldn't find the og post btw and i had the (naive) hope you didn't reblog shit at the speed i did

13. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter fics or single-part fics? Do you prefer reading multi-chapter fics or single-part fics?

i prefer reading AND writing multi-chapter fics, bc its so much fun to explore stuff. however. The Horrors. i can dream about writing a multi-chapter fic all i want but it doesnt mean ill ever finish it (rest in piece my fleabag fyozai fic that's infamous on my bsd server bc i never shut up about it. also the fyozai betrayal AU fic. pensive emoji.)

20. Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into?

you make miette search through 84 published works for this...

the fic i'd say i've done the most research on is this one (mafia Dazai training Akutagawa) but the fic i've put the most work into being really good and me liking it has to be this one. its not BSD, but its a character study of a guy from another fandom and his interest in death and passive suicidality. i spent 3 days postponing every single other obligation other than food and just sat in bed writing this. 4th day i did nothing but chores and then i didnt write anything else for a week lol

least work is hard bc i have a philosophy that i can do whatever i want forever so i Will just write something in an hour and post it with no research, all pure self-indulgence. but i'll use a fic i should have done research on: this one. i really should've planned that out better. idk if anyone still follows me for httyd or has read that fic of mine but i do plan on rewriting it someday

22. Have you used any symbolism in [insert fic]? What does it represent?

OH boy.

so. fucked-up girl fic actually doesn't Have much real symbolism, only a couple remarks on my headcanons for various things.

today he had to eat an apple whole because he could not pick up a knife-

this one is easy, referencing dazai's suicidality and the fact he is trying. just a slight reference to him actively changing/being unable to do something, and also his issues with food.

He starts targeting.

Dazai is very, very still.

Atsushi backtracks so fast that he stumbles over his words, forgetting entirely Dazai’s contradictory explanations,

little things about dazai's manipulation in everything. boy can't admit shit. he's very roundabout with admitting anything close to himself (why i hc fyodor is so good for him, because they can trade those vague references back and forth and understand each other) and a trait i assign to him is saying vulnerable things in as few words as possible. he doesn't explain stuff.

Dazai’s body aches, and he turns, walks over to his desk, sits down. His clothes constrict.

gender issues but also, as mentioned in my comment on your fic, i hc dazai just hates his body. he has to shower with the lights off sometimes, can get dressed without looking at himself once. he very much dislikes perceiving the fact he has a body.

The ADA thinks that they’re dating. Him and Yosano. 

not symbolism or a hc but this was the premise of the entire fic. the agency thinking dazai and yosano were dating when really dazai just had severe gender envy

“Zai.”

little hc! yosano specifically uses this nickname for dazai when affectionate. atsushi and kunikida don't use any actual nicknames derived from his name; chuuya uses this nickname sometimes; ranpo uses this nickname somewhere between chuuya and yosano bc ranpo is putting in the least effort to get his attention lol

The conclusion is obvious. Dazai should explain that’s not what he means, but he can’t get his mouth to work to speak honestly. 

this whole conversation was the biggest indicator of dazai being unable to elaborate/saying things in as few words as possible. he's not a pathological liar, i just think sometimes it is physically painful to have to elaborate vulnerable things verbally for him. e.g. "it's because you're a woman" and yosano having to debate the fact dazai could be going after her, dazai Knowing what kind of conclusion she'd jump to immediately As a woman, and yet he just cannot explain it further because it is vulnerability. HENCE why i like him and fyodor, because fyodor can make those kinds of connections as quick as dazai can.

"Women are really pretty~”

not a hc or symbolism but. Boy why do you talk about women so much and yet date none of them. almost actively make yourself undesirable to them. Sir. My guy. i know what you are

“There’s a word for it?”

special lil hc i have. the mafia is very open and accepting because they simply have bigger priorities than who's kissing who. mori simply does not give a shit if his agents are consorting or if his lead agent goes from a girl to a guy. he won't provide monetary support and unless it's physically disabling he won't make exceptions to rules, but if he's told that someone's pronouns have changed or whatever he'll go "cool" and change the name/pronouns in all of the system, start using them, and be done with it. his only concern is performance and as far as he cares, sex and gender are irrelevant. (on that note, harrassment isn't tolerated because why are you harrassing them for being gay when you can harrass them for the multiple enemies they didn't kill last mission. cmon now.)

this also comes with the caveat that the kids raised in the mafia aren't really educated on it. they're taught normal class subjects, e.g. math, english, etc. and they're taught mafia protocol, and they're allowed to get their own reading material, but the mafia puts in as much effort to teach them about queer people as they do to teach them about heterosexual people. (they do get sex ed tho, which is basic as ever, and which dazai is a whole menace during)

and dazai, obviously, would not really be that interested in either to read about. being brought in so young, i think he was never really taught bias against queer people, so when he had the revelation that he liked chuuya he was just kinda. oh ok. and when he has the feelings about his body that he doesn't like it, he has much bigger priorities (namely the quickest way to die) than figuring out whatever the hell that is.

so it ends up that dazai just kinda is queer and has no idea what it is. he knows he hates his body and he knows he likes chuuya, probably has some surface level knowledge of gay/bi/lesbian/etc. but otherwise no, he's never sought out specifically to figure out the terms for what he's feeling. he actually really hates perceiving himself in any way lol

He still looks like himself,

this little bit: he hates perceiving himself in any way, but he still wants to be him. he doesn't want to change his name or his reputation or whatever else, he doesn't want to be a different person. he just wants to be a dazai that he likes.

It would look wrong be inconvenient for him, and take so much effort. Just… so much. So much that he can’t handle. Managing himself is hard regularly - adding on this, whatever it is, would be biting off more than he could chew. 

there's a river called de nile-

dazai is denying the fact he thinks being a woman would look wrong because of his years of being in a masculine body like he is, hence the calluses mention. but he also is right, that he wouldn't be able to upkeep it. he has to be in a better spot/it has to be something very slow and gradual for him to be able to keep it up long enough to maintain a desirable appearance. he's sorta using it as an excuse to not do it but also he just doesn't want to put in that much effort into it.

now for the matcha fic!

Very big hc and symbolism for this fic: Dazai's ability.

it is an ability nullifier, and i stand by the idea that abilities have some kind of effect on their user and are somewhat sentient. Atsushi's tiger, for one, is not only a transformation but the shape of the ability inside him, and Kyouka's Demon Snow is a whole being as the ability itself.

so for Dazai, he described it once as an "anti-ability." which. what the hell. whump beams him.

i have the hc that Dazai's ability makes him cold because most ability users can feel their ability hummign beneath their skin. most abilities are warm, alive, and it's like a constant low electric current or adrenaline rushing through them, as omnipresent as a heartbeat or breath. just a fact of being alive is that feeling. so then: when Dazai nullifies other people's ability, they can Feel the absence of it, they can feel very empty and very cold. when Dazai is the host of that nullification ability, it's just that electric warmth reversed. an icy cold, all the time, because NLH is a black hole as opposed to a sun. (all my metaphors relate NLH more to an icy lake, but that's the dichotomy)

i don't ascribe Dazai's emptiness entirely to NLH, but i do think it contributes and that he has a complex about the relationship between his own issues with emotion, empathy, and the fact NLH lives inside him.

and that cold gets much worse whenever Dazai actually does nullify an ability depending on how strong it is/how much is being used at the time, therefore the remark about him making a science on how bad it'll affect him, and that scene about him being overwhelmed by nullifying Chuuya's ability; he miscalculated, and was caught off guard by NLH activating so strongly, esp given his injuries and physical weakness already in that moment

and another little HC: Dazai's hinted to have been in an even worse place before Mori and abilities are said to be activated from trauma. so i like to hc Dazai's ability as activating from the result of being tortured with abilities, from a deep desire to stop the torture, also in some kind of lab setting. and from there, Dazai escaped, and Mori got this very damaged child.

so then, through the matcha fic, Dazai latches onto it because the warmth of the tea chases away the cold of NLH.

another thread through this fic: Mori and Dazai's relationship. i think Mori was trying to keep Dazai alive as an asset to the mafia, and that he never... regretted? bringing him in as much as wished Dazai had never shown up at his doorstep in the first place, because Mori sees the value of his skills way too much to regret using them. but Mori also knows kids aren't supposed to do what Dazai is doing. and he also sees the emptiness in Dazai and all his general issues. so it's this very messy tangle of like. Mori can't care for him like a father because, yknow, mafia boss and Mori himself also has manipulation and control issues, but also he's much fonder of him than most others, even Chuuya. no one else would have been able to get away with all the shenanigans Dazai inflicts on him (that kid bullies mori so hard. it's very comical). Mori is simultaneously training him and raising him in a life-or-death environment for them both and it's so messy.

“I’ll make us all some hot tea!” Atsushi raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Are you sure you won’t… burn the Agency down, Dazai?”

little note here: i think dazai curates an image of incompetency specifically because of his competency in the mafia. obviously everyone there knows he's actually competent, but he hides just how competent he is. partially to get up to his own shenanigans hiding his mafia connections and whatever else, but also partially because he doesn't want to be known as something like the demon prodigy again.

when it's serious, they know he can hold his own (prison arc) but otherwise. he is faking so much incompetency.

“I’ll make a deal - if you manage to make matcha tea as well as I do, I can get you your own expensive set for the holidays~”

ok listen. listen. the slap that dazai gave atsushi lives rent free in my mind because of the moment of hesitation just before it. everyone villainizes dazai for slapping atsushi while entirely ignoring the brief hesitation just before it.

dazai was both trained (as an agent) and raised (as a teenager) by mori. and oda was not a very good dad either. he doesn't have the best role model, for one. but he's also very self-aware when he's older and i think he can separate "father" mori and "mafia boss" mori in his actions. he knows when mori was trying to raise him and he knows when mori was trying to train him.

now. now guess what dazai is to atsushi. a trainer. and dazai is still taking the place of someone older and more experienced teaching atsushi not only combat skills but also life skills/growing-up skills. and we all saw how dazai got with akutagawa; that was an environment conducive to that kind of treatment, where that was being encouraged.

now the agency doesn't condone physical violence and dazai knows that. and he is very clearly trying to be a good person like oda asked him to. so, with that moment of hesitation, he clearly did not want to slap atsushi. but someone else's post words this better: he got complacent at the agency, forgot mori's ruthlessness, and with the threat against atsushi and release of Q he remembered he couldn't be so complacent and began to slip back into the old mafia thinking as a way to survive.

and with atsushi breaking down and not listening to him, the agency threatened by mori and Q, a threat that made even dazai flinch, i hc he got overwhelmed, knew there was one method that got guaranteed results, knew the agency didn't condone it, but was overwhelmed enough that he just. lashed out in a way he knew guaranteed would work, and would get atsushi to listen to him.

so . very long rant just to say that i think dazai is fighting, a bit, to balance his experience of being trained-and-raised, with him training-and-raising atsushi, but he knows the difference clearly between the two and so he'll cherrypick actions like the deal mori made with the matcha tea.

deep breath. it's been like an hour and a half. jfc. anyway there's your answers hsfdbhsdf i have many many thoughts on dazai

ty for asking!

[melikochan]

3 Nasadi and Vanasha

Itamen's return to Meridian was a triumphant success for Sun King Avad. Once he was safely ensconced in the palace and away from those who might do him harm, an announcement went out to the Carja noble houses. A great royal procession, followed by a spectacular banquet, was planned in celebration of the young prince's return. Nobles came from all over the Sundom to greet the boy.

Itamen handled the spectacle well for one so young, Vanasha thought with a tinge of pride. He was a sweet and earnest boy, protected enough by his mother to keep him from turning under the scorching gaze of the Shadow Carja.

Nasadi, as always, was a picture of serenity, but Vanasha knew otherwise. The time spent as her handmaiden had allowed the spy to form an intimate familiarity with the dowager queen. It was after a full day of greeting nobles, Itamen finally tucked into bed, that Vanasha visited Nasadi in the queen's chambers. With Avad still unmarried, Nasadi was able to reoccupy her former suite in the palace.

The guards let her in without comment. She found the queen on her balcony staring out into the city night, so vibrant and alive despite the late hour. Nasadi looked wan in contrast.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Vanasha remarked as she approached, careful not to startle the queen.

Nasadi didn't even twitch. She just tightened her grip on the balustrade. “Like what?”

“Lifeless. Meek. Bored. I don't know—whatever this is,” Vanasha replied, gesturing at the queen. “Back in Sunfall, you had such fire in your eyes at the prospect of escape. You had some steel in your spine.”

Nasadi seemed to consider Vanasha's words, in her pensive, quiet way. “In Sunfall, my role was clear. I was a figurehead, mother to the King in Shadow. But here, in Meridian? Who am I? What role do I play? I fear that to Avad, I am but a reminder of his father.”

“You could always marry him, solidify Itamen's status as next in line for the throne,” Vanasha joked, and was almost alarmed when Nasadi seemed to dwell on the idea.

“I have played the role of good Carja wife and mother for my whole life. Look where that landed me—married to a madman. Stolen from my home, barely more than a political prisoner. Forced to protect my only child from cruel tyrants and sycophants. I played my role, dutifully. But what am I now? Am I a prisoner here as well, Vanasha?”

“Avad wouldn't treat you like that, Nasadi.”

Nasadi gave her a flat look, and Vanasha—surprising even herself—blushed.

“Well,” Vanasha conceded, “I don't think he would. I would be disappointed if he did, to be frank. But how about this. Once you and Itamen feel settled here, how about you and I travel together? Do a tour of the Sundom together. You could meet some nice guys, see where things go.”

Nasadi hid a smile behind her hand. “Maybe, once Itamen's place in the palace is secured. I'd like that.” She paused. “We'll see about the, ahem, ‘guys.’”

“Well that's that, then!” Vanasha exclaimed. “Just you and me, taking on the Sundom. There is a delightful little eatery in Brightmarket that has the most delectable sliced boar...”

As she gushed to Nasadi about her favorite spots in the Sundom, she was happy to see the woman relax and start to open up, that sparkle Vanasha was so familiar with return to her eyes. This was the queen that Vanasha knew. She couldn't wait to see how Nasadi would come into her own, with a little freedom.

[aonoexpat]

05-11-2023 (3/3)

After getting Elrond back in working order, I said goodbye to Motueka (and a little baby Pīwakawaka who came to say goodbye back) and went on my way to Elaine Bay. I made a brief stop in Whakatū to get some groceries, and then drove down the road I mentioned in yesterday's post, which offered stunning views that were hard to photograph:

I had to fight not to get out of my car for photos at every turn. I spent the night there and in the morning I went back out to the water. The sun was shining brightly now and the water was just as clear as the night before, which meant I could see the fish, the starfish, and the absolutely massive stingrays I had been wise to avoid encountering in the dark last night:

I enjoyed the (still) lovely sunny weather by going on my last hike of the island: Pīwakawaka track, which led to a very peaceful little beach in about 45 minutes one way:

And despite my reluctance, after having lunch (cooking in Elrond for the last time) I had to get back on the road. I managed to take some more pretty pictures of the view:

I'll admit, I was very emotional during the hike and the drive. It really feels like the end of an era, and even though part of me never wants to leave, I feel like it's a good thing that it's ending. I have been alone for too long, and today I really felt that. Not only have I been physically alone, and dealing with a lot of stressful things, but this trip has also forced me out of my sociopolitical bubble and that has been unsettling to say the least. It has made me think a lot about what I find important, what home means to me, and how I want to live my life going forward. It's like I've stepped out of my comfort zone, and now have lost all sense of where it's supposed to be. I crave to go back, I'm homesick, but I know I've changed. I still am changing. I don't know what my comfort zone is supposed to look like anymore. I'm sure I'll find it again eventually, but that is a scary feeling. A feeling that makes me look forward to being hugged again, and having at least a little more normalcy and luxury than I have now. But that also makes it scary to step into a new chapter.

As I drove and listened to harmonious, pensive music, the clouds rolled in and it started raining. It didn't stop until about an hour ago. I still couldn't resist getting out of the car to take a photo at one of my trip's very first stops, Pelorus bridge:

I could almost see myself from four months ago right there, hanging out on the rocks and taking pictures. Feeling nervous and excited, the whole trip ahead of me. But also a lot less experienced, a lot more nervous about driving still, and in no way yet used to van life. I may still have so much to learn, but those things I feel like I well and truly have conquered, and I'm pretty proud of that.

I completed the way to Waitohi, recognising some stops along the way where I once stopped and took pictures and hiked. And then I finally made it to my first - and now also last - camping spot. I got myself some food, saw a familiar face (and told him how I remembered him, and he had made me feel welcome on my first day), and ate in Elrond while watching my favourite series. Now I'm just dreading the six minute walk to the closest public toilet, but I'll undertake that journey after finishing up all these posts!

Tomorrow I will take the boat back to Te Ikaroa, and hopefully get some rest. I'm already mentally preparing for the seasickness. I just hope the weather will stay dry now, and I can enjoy the views from the boat like I did last time!

For now, sweet dreams to Aotearoa, good afternoon to Europe. You'll hear from me again soon I hope!

[igotsnothing]

Chapter 3: The Visit

The phone's vibration jolted Finn out of the slumber he'd slipped into. He squinted in the dark at Jacob's text and grimaced: it was getting late and he'd gotten very little done around the camp. He'd started a second job on top of the landscaping gig, which only offered him work during the weekend; he'd taken on custodial duties at the Moonwood Mill Collaborative, a mix of maker studios and open air marketplace in a nicer part of town. It didn't pay that well, but the manager let him use the studio after hours. Finn had spent a large amount of time using the craft tables and learning how to operate the fabricator...Not always with the expected results.

The dumpster at the Collaborative had become a useful resource, as well. It held scrapped projects, discarded supplies, and even the occasional tool. He couldn't believe what people threw out.

Finn had mixed feelings about seeing Luna and Morgan again. They'd been friendly at school, but he had no idea if they would be as friendly to him once they saw how he was living.

"Finn!" Morgan Fyres cried out when she saw him. "Congratulations on getting out of that absolute hellhole of a school!"

"It's nice to see you again. You just disappeared; we were worried about you," Luna Villareal added softly.

Finn felt a pleasant blush course up his neck as he met her gaze.

They sat around the campfire as Finn fielded most of their questions.

"This is awesome," Morgan decided. "No one telling you what to do, where to be; you can do whatever you want..."

"It's not like I had much of a choice," Finn added, poking at the fire pensively.

"Do you miss being at school at all?" Luna wondered.

"Yes and no. I couldn't stay at home for another year. I just couldn't. And I can't support myself if I am at school full-time," he explained. "I don't miss the homework...but I kind of enjoyed some of my classes. And I do miss hanging out with everyone. Is everyone still T-posing in the halls?" He laughed.

"You should ask Morgan about posing!" Jacob provoked. "She pulled a little posing stunt during our yearbook pictures that landed her in detention..."

"That detention was a violation of my free speech rights, as the school is funded by taxpayers--"

"Prom is coming up soon. Do you want to go?" Luna interrupted. "You could come with me, if you'd like."

"Uh...Yeah! I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, actually. It would be fun to see everyone again before people take off for college." Finn smiled. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a drag, if you'd rather go with someone else." Finn felt his pulse quicken. He'd always found Luna really sweet and very pretty. He had no idea that she was interested--especially right then, when his life was such a craptacular mess.

"If I am asking you, it's because I'd like you to go with me, silly!" Luna laughed.

Everyone fell silent. Jacob pressed his lips together, suppressing a grin, and Morgan sat up, mildly alarmed.

"Ok, guys. My dad just texted. If you girls want a ride, we have to leave now."

"No problem." Luna stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Finn, give me your contact info so we can make plans."

Finn blinked at her slowly.

"Yeah--hang on."

Morgan just stared, in complete surprise.

Luna leaned in closer, peering at his phone.

"OH MY GOD! I have the same lock screen!" Luna cried out.

"No way! You like Holly Alto's art, too?" Finn couldn't believe it.

"Are you kidding? Did you see the latest pictures of her mural in San Myshuno? It's on Social Bunny."

Morgan's stomach sank as she watched the two of them.

"Oh, I have to send you pictures of her last exhibit here," Finn continued excitedly.

"I'd love that!" Luna smiled.

"She's giving a talk at the University of Britechester next week! Wanna come with?"

"Yes!" She giggled.

"Last stop!" Jacob pulled up to Morgan's driveway.

"Hey--does Finn have a thing for Luna?"

"I don't know that he's given it much thought, given everything that he's been through lately. Why?"

"They seem to be moving kind of fast, don't you think?"

Jacob shrugged.

"If they're interested in each other, what should they be waiting for?"

"Thanks for the ride." Morgan stepped out of the car.

"Night!"

💔

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[imaginewriting1]

flying

Ariana Grande x youtuber!reader

Part 9 of "positions"

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 5.5 (1) | 5.5 (2) | 5.5.5 | 6 | 7 | 7.5 | 8 | 8.5

“Gravity is matter’s response to loneliness.” - (By someone) Alice Wu (had forgotten)

The way Ariana mentioned her concert weeks ago, vaguely and casually, made you think it was a relatively small event. This assumption was further solidified when Ariana found an easy solution to her PR manager’s concerns, by suggesting that you bring Olivia along. This way, attention would be diverted away from your relationship with Ariana.

So imagine your shock when you found yourself in one of the studio rooms in Staples Center, watching Ariana run through her choreography.

“I can’t believe BTS was sitting beside us just five minutes ago,” Olivia exclaimed. “Even I can’t get access to this kind of experience that easily. These backstage passes are the best.”

You looked down at the pass Ariana had placed around your neck after the security checks. “Technically, they are staff passes.”

Olivia leaned towards you and half-whispered conspiratorially, “Even better, imagine all the restricted places we can go that a fan can’t. Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of them again.” 

“Well, knock yourself out. Bring back any goodies or souvenirs you find.” 

“Don’t I always? Be right back.” After a quick hug, Olivia left with gleeful steps.

If you were the person before, you would entertain her idea. Hell, you would probably have come up with it, sneaking around with her to check out the place and people around. However, now at the moment, you were content watching Ariana dance.

Even with a flurry of female dancers surrounding her, your eyes seemed to fixate solely on Ariana. You observed the way she moved, and how her dancers shifted along with her. At a particular moment, one of them corrected the placements of her thighs.

The slightest strain of irk shot through you, immediately shifting into alarm. You shouldn’t have felt this way every time the dancers came into contact with her.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a shadow was cast over you. Looking up, you found Ariana staring at you inquisitively. You looked away in embarrassment, not wanting your face to give away anything.

“What’s wrong?”

There was a “nothing” sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you hate to lie, especially to her. You let out a sigh, “I just found out that I don’t like it when someone else touches you and I’m not.” Ariana’s eyebrow shot up, mouth opening to say something, but you stopped her she could. “I know, I have no right to feel this way, much less at people who are just doing their jobs.”

The look on her face transformed into a pensive one. You sat there like a kid caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do, waiting fearfully for the consequences. With your eyes downcast, you did not notice Ariana moving closer until her hands came into view to cup your cheeks.

With the way she leaned in closer, you thought she was going to sit on your lap. However, she stopped at bringing her face to yours. In such close proximity, you couldn’t duck your head to hide it even if you wanted to. “It’s okay to feel that way, as long as you don’t act upon them.” She said diplomatically, reminding you of your therapist. Moving towards your ear, she continued, “But you don’t have to be jealous. I only want your touch.” Her lips grazed the shell of your ear, “and you can do so, however much you want, tonight.”

She turned around before you could react, walked back to where the dancers were and went back to formation again. You spent the time looking away whenever Ariana shot a wink over. 

After an hour, someone informed Ariana to prepare for the upcoming full dress rehearsal. Everyone got ready to make their way to the stage. All you did was carry Toulouse while you followed around Ariana cluelessly.

Olivia doesn’t return in time, but you don’t worry, knowing your friend would have no trouble finding her way around. As for you, being Ariana’s “staff”, you were put in charge of overseeing her performance. So you were situated at the standing pen, observing everyone prepare. 

When she faced your direction, you turn your head to see who she was looking at. You only realized that it was you when she tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

You felt compelled to move when she made her way towards you as quickly as she could in her black ball gown.

You met her at the edge of the stage where she had squatted down, her hands draped across your shoulders. “Tell me how the whole thing looks from the audience.” 

Her voice rose at the end, making it sound like a request. Tilting your head up, you replied, “It looks spectacular. Especially your dress and the orchestra at the back. Show-stopping material.” 

The smile you were rewarded with was brighter than the spotlights above. “I have to go get the show on the road then,” Ariana said, playing with the baby hairs behind your neck. “Can’t wait to blow your mind.”

If not for the split-second glint in her eyes, you would have been fooled by her angelic aura. For the second time, she shifted closer towards you, only to jerk backward, as though she was catching herself from doing something. You didn’t have this realization at that time, more concerned with Ariana losing her balance.

Your torso hit the stage as you surged forward, arms extended in an attempt to act like a wall or some sort of safety net.

The heart-dropping sensation only subsided when she stopped wobbling. However, in the absence of adrenaline and fear, a throbbing pain grew sharper around your kneecaps.

“You good?” You asked in a voice you hoped would sound casual, ignoring the ache.

Her words shook a little when she spoke. “Y-yeah,” She cleared her throat, looking away while doing so, “I’m fine. Are you okay? I heard a thud.”

Your arms went back to your side. “I’m okay. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m just glad I’m not responsible for breaking Ariana Grande’s bones.” You let out a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. It worked, with Ariana returning one. From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone motioning towards you and Ariana. “Looks like everyone is good to go. I shouldn’t keep you any longer then.”

Ariana’s head swiveled around, seeing the same things you witnessed. “Right. I’ll see you after the show.” She paused a little, teeth sinking lightly into her lips like she was in contemplation. A slight shake of her head told you she was dismissing whatever thought she had. Instead, she stood up slowly and headed back to the center of the stage. Your hands went back up to their earlier position, poised in front of you until you were sure there was no possibility of her falling.

-

The lights dimmed slowly before a sudden beam shone solely on the singer. As the orchestra moved collectively, the notes started stringing together into your favorite song of hers.

You thought hearing Ariana sing up close before showed you how amazing a performer she was, and how she would be the same for this concert.

You could not have been more wrong in your life. It was not the same when there was fancy lighting that made her shine even brighter than you thought possible, the accompanying live orchestra and her voice, god, her voice reverberating around an empty stadium - so raw and powerful and controlled and freeing - changing pitch and notes as easily as breathing, making every song better than you could have ever imagined. 

It was utterly disbelieving how she could sound so heavenly and could carry a myriad of emotions in her voice. You could only shake your head in awe when she pulled off yet another high note, smiling when she did after the ending of each song. 

It was an experience that could not be compared to any other, no other concerts could ever be the same as this one - the closest thing to a private show you could ever get. You knew people would pay tens or hundreds of thousands for this priceless experience you had gotten for free.

Maybe you should change your career. Ariana Grande’s personal assistant or bodyguard doesn't sound bad at all.

“You should close your mouth before a fly gets in there.” A familiar voice nudged you back to reality. 

Smiling at Olivia’s tease, you replied, “The security here is so tight I don’t think insects are even allowed to enter. By the way, you just missed the best performance you’ll ever see today, or possibly even your whole life.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I would disagree and say that BTS’s rehearsal was the best I’ve seen but you wouldn’t know since you spent the whole time staring at your girl.” You watched as her face softened into a smile knowingly. “Better make me your maid of honor.”

In that instance, you realized that you still haven't told Olivia the truth. “About that-”

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but Ariana has requested your presence.” The both of you looked up to find Max and a practically cleared stage for the next act. You gestured for him to lead the way. 

Upon entering Ariana’s dressing room, she exclaimed happily at the sight of you. “Hey! What do you think of my performance?” She jumped up from her seat to give you a hug. You wrapped your arms around her to return it.

“It was amazing, truly. Never seen anything more spectacular.” You sank into her embrace. “I think there are tears in my eyes for how beautiful it was.”

“Thank you.” Her giggles caused goosebumps to form on your arms, and you realized that it was how she sounded when she was truly happy. You were glad to be a part of it.

“Need me to give you two the room?”

Ariana only pulled away at the sound of Olivia’s cough. She clapped her hands like she had an idea she wanted to share. “How about I take you guys around instead?”

“Uh, Olivia already-” Your mouth was muffled by said friend. She shot you a look before moving her hand away slowly.

Didn’t think I have to wingwoman you with someone you already have.

Oh. Good idea.

“We would be honored,” Olivia spoke on your behalf.

“Great, give me a minute to change.”

After she did, the three of you started touring around the stadium. You were sandwiched between them when Olivia linked arms with you and Ariana followed suit. Being in that position, you felt curious stares averting your way as you were basically dragged around. You shot apologetic smiles to those who had to make way for you three - similar to when the popular girls in school, sashaying down the hallway.

All in all, you met some of the performing acts, learned the seating plan of invitees, and walked down the red carpet. It was satisfying to experience something you never thought you could. 

“-and that’s pretty much it. It isn’t as magical as they make it out on TV.” Ariana concluded the tour when you arrived back where you started. “Since we’re done for the day, do you have any plans for the rest of it?” 

“We have our biweekly movie nights today.” You replied. “Do you want to join us? It’s at my place.”

Ariana beamed, “You can drive.”

-

Today could be arguably one of the best days of your life. A quiet night of watching a movie with people you love after an exciting day.

You, Olivia, and Ariana were lazing all over your couch. Since you were in the middle, again, their legs overlapped on your lap underneath blankets and pillows. A scatter of takeout boxes lay on the tables, providing sustenance and some sort of distraction from a psychological thriller playing on the portable screen. 

You don’t know why they chose this film when it scares the shit out of them, bumping their arms into yours whenever there is a particularly loud noise. Their jerky movements caused your heart to stop more than the film's sound effects. So you decided to play a game of taking a bite of food every time someone screamed or used you as a wall.

Maybe you should choose the films next time instead of being the gracious host. 

When the movie finally ended, you instinctively shifted your weight to stretch. But when you heard soft intelligible murmurings against the curve where your neck meets your shoulders, your movements slowed to a standstill. 

“She fell asleep, didn’t she?” Olivia whispered. You hummed a response as opposed to nodding your head. “I guess our usual sleepover is off.”

“You can still stay tonight if you want. Share the bed with Ariana. I’ll take the couch.” You said, after tucking Ariana beneath your duvet covers and returning to your potential sleeping area for the night.

“You want me to share the bed with her?” Olivia shot you a confused look which turned into what you recognized as her teasing smile. “You aren’t afraid of me stealing her from you?”

The feeling that rose in you wasn’t the same possessive jealousy that gripped you earlier. It was a mellower, more gradual swell of helpless frustration; a reluctant acceptance that Ariana isn’t yours to lose. 

“Well if you do, it’s fair game. Since she is single.”

You would laugh at the way Olivia’s eyes go comically wide if you weren’t feeling like you’ve just watched a plot twist that made things worse for the protagonist - and you can only shout uselessly at the screen.

“What!?” Olivia half whispered, half exclaimed. Her hands flailed around to gesture her bewilderment. “But what about the constant staring, the touching? When you drove, her hand was on your knee the entire time. You two are like magnets.”

With a sigh, you told Olivia everything about your relationship with Ariana - from interviewee to friends with benefits. She’s patient enough not to interrupt with questions until you’re done.

“Well, I’m proud of you for trying something new.” She said, pausing with a slight frown. “But from what I’ve heard, it sounds awfully like you are pretty much in an actual relationship with her.” 

“Without feelings.” You supply subconsciously, regretting immediately after the words left your mouth.

Olivia stared at you long and hard. “Then why do you look at her like that?”

You asked dumbly. “Like what?”

“Like she’s a sunset you can’t look away from.”

It doesn’t hit you like a car with no brakes, since the statement only confirmed something you already knew deep down - it wasn’t just a crush anymore.

AN: early access to later chapters on my ko-fi page. Also feel free to DM or ask anonymously for any questions.

[grimowled]

the handsome @museicbox said: “ do you think we’ll ever… be a couple-couple ? ” Blitz slurred his words over the phone. Clearly he was drunk, calling Stolas at 3 am because he had feelings and didn't know what to do with them.

THESE DAYS he spent most nights laying awake, the gears of his ancient mind turning to consider everything that had unfolded between him and his beloved, flighty imp. truly, he was quite extraordinary, and extraordinarily complicated to woo and reign in, keeping him on his talons; it was like attempting to tame a wild horse and constantly failing to do so, and then he would just ... come to him unexpectedly, of his own accord, throwing the dark prince into a maelstrom of deep contemplation in lieu of dealing with his own roiling feelings.

(what an exquisite creature, that he could make the shrewd demon prince so weak at the knees!)

when the phone rang in the saturnine depths of the witching hour, and the name that made his breath catch in his throat appeared in whimsical purple wisps, he answered without a moment's hesitation - testament to how deeply he was in the talented imp's thrall, allowing himself to be speared by his claws, losing the control he'd willingly relinquished. it was a bittersweet ache he craved in his dark breast, even if the consequences of his singular obsession ever loomed on the horizon.

noting the slurred speech addled by alcohol with a pleasantly painful twinge in his chest (now that was an interesting development!), he greeted the odd question with a pensive silence at first, mulling over his words; then, exhaling out a sigh, he crooned into the phone as if whispering into his lover's ear - tones dulcet, but words whetted as blades, sheathed in velvet.

"oh dear, or dear. first you spurn me, and now you ask me this? you really know how to spin an old owl's head round. tut, tut."

(could he really consider such a union, in the modern sense of it - wasn't being deeply intimate lovers what he meant? wasn't owning and being owned the ultimate goal?)

"hm! you know ... I could give you everything you could ever desire, blitz, and more. you know I adore you ... just say the word. is this what you truly want? could you really handle it?"

answering a question with more questions was the oldest trick in the book whilst the goetia prince gathered his own thoughts; his beloved imp had been so reticent about reciprocating his constant affections, and now he was drunk-calling him, spewing unfiltered feelings. it almost made him smile, his lover's wildcard ways.

besides, stolas was fairly sure blitz would most likely not remember this conversation the following day.