#keys recipe book
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maudeboggins · 10 months ago
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made this yesterday and it's really good! I ended up using a store-bought pie crust to make things easier for me, and I used cherry jam instead of raspberry. I also used AP flour instead of pastry and it didn't make a difference.
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pseudowho · 5 months ago
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It wasn't the first time Kento had bought you flowers.
Your week had started badly, and as weeks which start badly often do, had the audacity to get worse. And worse. And worse. Kento watched it with the mute horror of a husband who could do little to intervene in the particular nature of ills the universe had decided to throw at you.
Sat on the sofa on Friday evening, your week finally dragged (kicking and screaming) to a close. You slumped against the cushions, having drowned your misery in most of a bottle of wine, and you sniffled, hiccupping.
Kento approached you with gentle caution; not because he couldn't manage your anxious, ill-tempered sniping at him. But rather, because he did not want to provoke a snipeshot, just to see you add a gut-chewing guilt to your list of misery, too.
"I just--" You sniffed, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of one of Kento's old cardigans, "--I just wanna...get back to normal. Have an easy weekend. Bake...bake some bread, or...or something..."
Kento chuckled, sitting opposite you, and pulling your foot onto his lap to stroke it. His voice rumbled, good-humoured.
"Bake some bread?"
You giggled, which bubbled into a sob, lubricated by your wine. You pressed your head into the back of the sofa, slowly falling asleep to the feeling of his fingertips rolling sweet massages up your legs.
You felt Kento shift, climbing closer to bracket over you. You felt his nose, his breath, nudging the side of your head as if a cat. Your face crumpled into a frown, grumbling.
"...Kento...stop..."
"Time for bed, beautiful." Kento whispered against your hairline. "Come on."
You resisted, a paltry effort. You felt Kento's arms slip behind your knees, around your back, lifting you with a grunt, to cradle against him. Walking you to the bedroom, he kicked the door open with one bare foot, and slipped you into bed.
You dipped in and out of sleep, to clattering noises coming from the bathroom.
"Open up." You obeyed, and giggled to feel a toothbrush begin to swish around your mouth. Floppy and useless because Kento allowed you to be, you finally fell into a fractious sleep, disturbed by the traumas of the week you had left burning in your wake.
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You woke, reluctantly, to the muffled slam of the front door. You predicted the next sounds in your sleep-addled state, and heard them in perfect order: keys hung up. Shoes kicked off, placed into the shoe rack. Kento clearing his throat. A coat hanging, and footsteps past your bedroom.
You rolled, sloppy, shuffling out of bed with a yawn.
Approaching the kitchen, you noticed a wooden palette on the kitchen counter, and frowned. Inside, in neat rows, lay bag after bag of carefully colour coded...something. You blinked, bleary, and Kento smiled at you as if you were a painted beauty.
He approached you, trailing fingers through your scruffled hair with a hum. His hand dipped down to your fingers, grasping them and bringing their knuckles to his lips for a kiss.
"Good morning, lover."
"Kento, what's..." You gestured to the palette.
Kento was tying an apron behind his waist, flicking through a recipe book with carefully colour-coded notation stickers. He looked up to you, and to the palette, his eyebrows raising for a moment.
"I bought you flours."
"...flowers?"
"No. I bought you flours."
You blinked once, confused. You rolled a bag, turgid and heavy in your hand, and felt the softground shift of the contents within, and it clicked.
"...flours." You sniffled, welling up. "You bought me...flours. Flours, for..."
Kento's smile softened, turning the honey in his eyes to melted gold as he cupped your face, stroking one stray tear away with a swiping thumb. He whispered.
"Flours. For bread."
Kento reached behind himself, his eyes still on you, and a giggle chirped through you again as he lowered an apron loop over your head, reaching around in an embrace to tie it behind your back.
Hours later, sampling different hot breads, oozing with melted butter, a white sheet had draped over the week you left behind you. You left whitedust handprints on Kento's bottom. He sliced wheatsheafs into dough.
It wasn't the last time Kento bought you flours.
(bonus points to anyone who can guess the movie reference)
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pseudophan · 13 days ago
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PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!
Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.
Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!
I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.
The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.
Some key things to keep in mind:
Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice
While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible
Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around
The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.
I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.
Okay, I think that’s everything-
Here's the sign-up form
The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)
(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)
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wonryllis · 8 months ago
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⌇ YOU'RE MADE OF, ANGEL DUST 𓍼 ﹙ PRINCESS TREATMENT ﹚
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. . ──𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌.
﹙ 𝒘𝐞𝐛 ⭑ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ enhypen being the rhys larsen to your bridget. fem!r. fluff, fluffffff and fluffff. requested. wordcount` 1907. アーカイブ ARCHIVE?
PLS REBLOG!!!!
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𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆
gives you his coat, heeseung always makes sure to be properly dressed to accommodate you. taking out his warm fuzzy coat for you to wear when you're cold and don't have enough layers to when you need his jacket to cover your lap while seated, your dress riding up. although he absolutely loves having his hands on your tender skin, kneading your thighs when you sit beside him to his arm hooked at the curve of your waist able to feel the heat off your body; he'd rather have you feel comfortable and free.
holds all your stuff for you, like your jacket when you're too hot and don't want to keep it on anymore, your heels when your feet hurt; his big shoes switched with your dainty heels that are a bit too small for his feet, your purse with all your makeup and tissues and glasses and sunscreen and everything you think you need; in his hands the moment you step out the door. and it's not like you have to say anything, he just does it himself first.
let's you raid his place, the spare key, the passcode, his schedule, you know everything and you are always free to show up and use his house however you want to. you can empty the fridge and dirty the kitchen trying to cook, mess up the living room and heeseung would come back and ask you if you had fun, in fact his fridge is filled with things you love and the cabinets are filled with appliances you like to use to experiment the recipes you come up with.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆
opens doors and helps you sit first, the car door, the restaurant door, the cafe entrance, your apartment unit door literally every door he possibly can he opens and stands back to let you walk through it first. and then when you reach the table, he's pulling your chair to help you sit first before bringing the drinks you want or the desserts you like or ordering the food. in the car he'll open the passenger door for you, and offer his hand to hold onto while you get inside and then put on your seatbelt for you.
buys you anything you want, that little dress that caught your eye at the mall but they were out of your sizes, the necklace you saw in a tv commercial that you seemed to like a lot, the heels you said looked good on one of the fashion magazine models, it's all in your bedroom in a week. literally any thing that you show interest in, jay makes sure you have it one way or another. asking you to doll up and do a pretty show for him.
takes you out to wherever you want to go to, you have to just mention it even if it's in the passing and jay will take you there as soon as he can. from little dates in a new bakery to destination vacays nothing is impossible when it comes to you. the new restaurant with months long reservation and holiday stops that have all year round bookings everything is at you feet in an instant flick of a finger.
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍
gives you piggyback rides whenever you ask for it, when your feet hurt, when your heels break, when you twist your ankle, when you're tipsy, and when you just feel like it, jake is always ready to hold you against his back, arms hooked under your knees, one hand holding your shoes, heels, slippers. and all he asks for you to keep giving him kisses every two seconds to charge his fuel as he races you down the road while you both giggle and laugh.
let's you do anything with him, a wide range of things. experimenting with makeup on him, tying his hair into little ponies, dress him in funky outfits, drag him to little places any time of the day, from cute manga cafes to fancy dinner reservations he has no idea of (but he's paying for it, he swears) he just loves being your boyfriend it doesn't matter what you do.
buys you anything that reminds him of you, he sees a little penguin plushie that looks a little too much like you, he's getting it. he sees a dress he thinks would look way too pretty on you, he's getting it. he finds a cute plant he thinks you'd love to have in your room, he's getting it. he comes across a bunch of fresh flowers he knows you'll be so happy to receive, he's getting it. he finds a lotion that smells like you, he's getting it (for himself lol) and also he'd absolutely buy anything you said you wanted, he'd rather descend to hell than let you buy anything yourself.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍
drives you everywhere, college classes and weekend internship to girls' night out and midnight cravings. he'll put alarms to be right on time to drop you off wherever you'd be going and then later waiting for you outside your university gates, at your workplace, by the night bar to pick you up and get you back home. always waking up at once when you tell me you want to eat something and immediately taking you there in the middle of the night, telling you to sit wherever you want or wait in the car while he gets you your food.
let's you borrow his clothes and accessories, he absolutely hates the idea of his clothes touching someone else skin unless it's you. allows you to just grab anything from his closet you'd like without any need to ask him ever. sometimes he'd even pick something himself and ask you to wear it for him, to cover it with your soft scent. showing off to his friends when he wears that saying my girlfriend wore and it smells like her, pretty right?
takes pictures of you anywhere you go, most of times he'd be tagging along with you with his professional camera he got in a limited edition just to store photos of you. he'd carry it everywhere you go together and click random candids and spontaneous videos. always asking you to pose pretty for him and taking pictures until you're satisfied. later editing it in a long video he plans to surprise you with. a heartfelt video, a look into you through his love filled eyes.
𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎
gets you your favorite food and desserts any time of the day, he knows everything you like and he knows when you want it too. always surprising you with it whenever he gets the chance. looking up new places to take you to, exploring all kinds of food and sweets. making special reservations in places famous for dishes that are to your taste. bringing you new baked goodies in the middle of the day or at the break of dawn. plus point if you asked for it he's getting you that within an hour.
makes you special handmade gifts for special occasions, he thinks it carries more meaning if he puts in efforts to prepare something from scratch for you, so that everytime you look at it you think of him. like a little couple bracelet, or custom perfume, or crocheting you a pretty top. and if he bakes something for you he'd always film your reaction eating it, his laughs and giggles recorded along in the background. the special little moments of simple love where you both make each other happy over the tiniest things.
ready to learn anything just to please you, from short time hobbies you pick up like drawing doodles and gardening plants to taking professional classes like pottery and ballet. he'd do just about anything to make you happy, tagging along as company so that you can share even more interests together. he'd also take secret candle making classes when you start getting obsessed with them to make you his own ones. using scents that'll help you feel relaxed.
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍
brings you flowers and small gifts every week, he needs to see you smile uncontrollably at his actions and what's better than to give his pretty girlfriend receive pretty flowers, always making sure to get a new bouquet before that last one withers. and anything he sees, tiny little small things that remind him of you and that he thinks you'd love he'll buy immediately and show up at your doorstep to give it to you with a short sweet cute handwritten note along with it. sometimes he'd hide it and put directions all around the house for you.
fixes your clothes and helps you put on your shoes, he loves loves and loves being able to be of help to you, fixing the hem of your dress or skirt when it hikes up, tugging the straps of your crop tops and sundresses when they slip off, tying the strings of your backless tops if they come undone. removing your hair out of the way when it gets stuck under your clothes, tucking in your bra straps when they accidentally show, you just gotta doll up and jungwon will make sure you look best. sits you down before going out, getting on his knees to slip on your heels or sneakers himself.
always has a hand on you when you're outside to make sure you're safe, makes sure you're always on the side away from the road, his hands on your waist to hold you in case you'd trip and fall or someone pushes you. hands on your thighs, when you are in some restaurant, or holding your hands even if he's busy talking to someone else around the table. he just loves to hold you. it's become a habit at this point.
𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈
buys an extra of things you use a lot, anything that you seem to have a habit of using, he'll look thoroughly and get or order it to keep it with him in a small bag he takes everywhere with you. and when you seem to forget to bring yours, he's pulling it out his pouch and handing it to you. your regular cherry lipgloss or your shea butter lotion or your peach scented handcream, your compact powder, sunscreen stick, aloe wipes, your soft fragrance deo, apple mints you much on and just about everything.
patiently waits for you to get ready, he will wait for a million gazillion years for you, and only you. sitting on your bed or outside your room, either watching you or taking candid pics or just looking through his phone. even if you take an entire hour deciding an outfit he'll sit with a grin and help you choose, telling you his thought on each option. even if you end up wearing something you totally said you wouldn't in the end he's just happy to be of any help.
let's you use his account to play games, his life lies in his game accounts, but if you say you wanna try playing something he'd sit you with him and teach you how to play, encouraging that you're doing so well even if you're making an absolute blunder. if you insist on multiplayer mode he'd definitely let you win, happy to see you happy. and if you mess up something on his account he won't say a word. he can just do it again.
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taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @enhaswirlds @enhasnuggles @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @belowbun
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skzdarlings · 9 months ago
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birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader
requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣
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pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.
masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy!
-
You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock.  He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do.  You were already jittery before the jump-scare.   
“Seungmin! Sorry!”  You put a hand over your heart.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I can see that.”  He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile. 
Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood.  You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well.  He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness.  He is reliable whenever you need a hand.    
He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy.  His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag. 
“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says. 
“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered.  “Seungmin!  You didn’t have to!”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips.   While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out?  You’re all dressed up.” 
“Oh, um, yes.”  You feel shy as he looks at you.
“You look good,” he says.
It makes you even more flustered.  You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual.  Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun.  You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night. 
You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush. 
Because, yes, you like Seungmin.  A lot.  Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working.  You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it.  You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything.  His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination.  Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought.  You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all. 
A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months.  You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction.  Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all. 
“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet.  You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling. 
He brushes some hair out of his eyes.  They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels. 
“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles.  “I like it.” 
“Oh gosh,” you say. 
It makes him laugh.  Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.” 
“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say.  “I don’t even know where we’re going.  Probably just some food and stuff.  You know me.  I’m very simple.” 
“I do,” he says.  “I’d like to know you better, though.  Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time.  I like the one on page fifteen.”
You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too.  His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.    
“I will,” you say, smiling so big.  “Page fifteen.  Noted.” 
“It’s a date,” he says.  “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”
“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction.  You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide. 
“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling.  “See you around, neighbour.”
“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly. 
He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling. 
-
The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment.  You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity. 
Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers. 
You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you.  You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed. 
You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything.  It makes your sister and friends laugh.  It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused.  Your shy character is the opposite of… this. 
“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles. 
“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing.  “Or, hm, an act of feminism!  It’s about equality.  We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”   
“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles.  You shake your head, smiling with amusement too.  You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.  
Amusing is the best word for it, though.  None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed.  Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining. 
“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you. 
“No, I don’t,” you say.  You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.   
“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.” 
They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head.  You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine.  There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage.  You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view. 
You promptly spit your drink everywhere.  Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you. 
Not just any dancer.  
Kim Seungmin.
You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him.  It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely. 
Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face.  Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face?   He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair.  The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck.  Necklace? Choker? Collar?
He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated.  He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door.  Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed.  Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets.  He does not stride.
He certainly does not… gyrate.  Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye.  There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.
Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine. 
You are not so practiced.  Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.  The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin.  Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.
He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite.  He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin.  He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room. 
You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you.  It does not slow the race of your heart.
He sits on a chair and opens his shirt.  Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action.  Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp.  Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans.  Heat fills the core of you. 
He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate.  He knows he has you. 
“Oh my god,” your friend says.  “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”
“What!”  You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe.  “I am not!”
“Well, he was eye-fucking you.” 
You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside.  Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch.  Seungmin is polite.  He does not eye-fuck. 
Except you glance over the rim of your cup.  He is still looking at you.  It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink.  It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone. 
Oh. Gosh.  He is eye-fucking you. 
“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.” 
-
And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light.  You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt.  You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone.  You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.
You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight.  Once on your doorstep.  Once on stage.  And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider.  He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again. 
He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats.  You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct.  You melt under the intensity of his stare. 
“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says. 
You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence.  For some reason, it is just as tantalizing.  You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans.  But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses. 
“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that. 
He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent.  You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall. 
“Breathe,” he says.  “That’s not a request.”  He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them.  He does not touch you.  He does not need to.  Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks.  “Good.  All right.  So… neighbour… Should we talk?” 
You think a thousand thoughts.  Yes, a conversation.  No, your friends paid for this room.  They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly.  You want to ask when he is free for dinner.  You want to ask how long he has worked here.  You want to know him.  You really, really want to kiss him. 
You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 
He looks at you for another moment, still studious.  You swallow again.  Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean. 
“And you want to?” he asks.  “Do this sort of thing?” 
“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment.  Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty. 
He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him.  You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn.  He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction.  You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking. 
“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks. 
“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little.  You look at him with wide, earnest eyes.  “Don’t we all?” 
He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling.  Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.
“Right,” he says.  “In that case, birthday girl…”
He stands and your eyes follow.  He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest. 
A professional, you think.  It gets you undeniably hot.  You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him.  He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.  
He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you.  He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him. 
You sit back, breathing harder already.  Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation.  You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body. 
He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room. 
“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”   
You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh.  Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you.  He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder.  Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered.  He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat. 
He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch.  It steals your breath like a real kiss would. 
“I’m going to touch you,” he says.  “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you.  Only if I like you.” 
You cannot find any witty quips to return.  He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else.  You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off.  Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning. 
Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees.  Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them.  Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt.  You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more.  He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if.  He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry. 
“Oh,” is the only sound you make.   Your breathing is very loud.  It says a lot on its own. 
He is breathing a little harder too.  He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans.  He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off.  You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle. 
“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says.  He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower.  His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it.  “But I think I like you, birthday girl.”  He opens another button.  “I think I can make an exception.”  He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.” 
Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs.  You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements. 
You feel dizzy, your arms shaking.  You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease.  You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips.   Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face. 
“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles.  You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you.  “What will you give me for it?” 
“Anything,” you say.  “You can do anything to me.  You can have all of me.” 
It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before. 
“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases.  “By fucking your way out of them?” 
“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout. 
“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours.  “I am.  I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.”  He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.   
You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips.  This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling.  This is all new, but he is also familiar.  You are enjoying this, him, you together.  
You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders.  It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too.  He looks at you with more intensity. 
“You said I can anything?” he asks. 
A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees.  He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat.  You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you.  Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh. 
“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.
“Shh, shh,” he says.  “Our secret, remember?” 
Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion.  You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax.  He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching.  He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves. 
“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says.  “Don’t make me gag you.” 
“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake.  “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says.  “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me.  That’s pretty dirty.  What would everyone out there say?” 
Shocked.  They would be shocked if they even believed it.  You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago.  But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough.  You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. 
“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance.  He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you.  “That just made you needier, didn’t it?  Tsk.” He sighs dramatically.  “I don’t usually offer that.  It’ll cost you.” 
“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again. 
“What a bargain,” he says.  He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket.  He even seems to make a show of that.  He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath.  When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up.  He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat. 
“You know the rules,” he says.  “Hands there or I tie them up.  That’s my girl.”
You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you.  He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again.  You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands.  He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt. 
“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting.  He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room.  You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked.  Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin. 
Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud.  He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that. 
“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after.  He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you.  It is a scrutinous stare again.  You undoubtedly have questions for each other.   For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high.   “Well,” you say.  “That might have been worth page seventeen too.” 
His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.  He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you.  It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago.  It leaves you as breathless as everything else. 
“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.” 
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pennyblossom-meta · 9 months ago
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Analysis of the romance in Death Note's Spiraling Trap game.
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EDIT 02/03/2024: minor edits and fixes, added a few imgs and extra content.
A huge thank you to the folks over at agtteam who translated L - the ProLogue to Death Note: Spiraling Trap into English! Now we can all date L become FBI agents after hours.
I've been playing the game recently and one of the features I love the most is the L Communicator, which allows the main character (referred to as MC henceforth) to take a break from adventuring and listen to L talk about whatever is on his mind.
There's around one hundred different lines available as the MC develops a relationship with L and they paint him as such a sweet, attentive and thoroughly unique individual that I was surprised by how detailed it was. If you're thinking about playing, then this part is definitely worth putting effort into.
The mechanics of the dating sim are relatively simple: during the adventure, you'll pick up a number of recipes hidden among traps and tools. Then, Watari will provide the ingredients and you can give L whatever sweets he specifically craves. These recipes and cravings depend on the time of day and can be season specific.
Character analysis
As stated in-game, giving L sweets causes his appreciation for the MC to grow. However, L being L, means that he craves different sweets throughout the day. He's definitely very specific about what he likes and what he wants for his sugar fix.
However, if you give L something he isn't craving at that specific moment, he will sulk. The way he expresses his displeasure varies according to the depth of the budding relationship he has with the MC.
L: To tell you the truth, there are many other things I would have preferred. L: [F/N], I hate to say this, but I really would have preferred something else. L: F/N], you must know that I was hoping for something else, right? L: [F/N]… It’s not my favorite but, it made me really happy.
Note: Given that the books in the expanded universe (Another Note and L: Change the WorLd) came out before this game, I think some of the quotes further ahead might be a subtle nod to how L is perceived by the police forces as the "creepy murder detective". However, references about his piece of mind lead me to believe that L craves some respite from the burdens he carries on his shoulders — burdens so strong that they managed to curve his spine.
Note: I'm unsure how the system here works, as the MC also gets points for gaining L's trust in the actual adventure when they a) agree with his observations and b) find key objects hidden in unsuspecting places. It might affect the available lines through the L Communicator.
L: Today is going to be a better day… Let’s think positive. L: I wonder what kind of morning this will be. L: It seems the air outside is crisp this morning.
L: I want to finish what I need to get done before night falls. L: It’s nearly sunset. Time for children to go back home. L: If you just stare into space, night will be here before you know it.
L: It’s already evening… Time keeps passing me by. L: There’s something different about the air at night. L: Night-time, dusk… It’s the witching hour.
As a naturally introspective individual, L observes the world around him and draws conclusions. To my surprise, the game actually managed to capture how observant L is about small, unsuspecting details of daily life and give him a slightly poetic side laced with a hint of wistfulness that suits his character well.
This is a side of L in his private life that I personally wish we had been able to glimpse during the Kira investigation. Though, at the time, L was busy trying to prove that Light was, indeed, Kira. It left him little to no time to enjoy the world around him. During the brief time that L could have had a semblance of rest right before the Yotsuba arc, he was depressed that his deductions were "wrong" — though I could see him musing about some of the above, equal parts whimsy and sulking.
L: If I start to lose my touch… I guess I’ll retire. L: Another day, another mystery… L: I have a lot of thinking to do. L: I feel like doing some capoeira… L: I haven't played tennis for a while. L: The weather today is… Well, it matters not. L: I, um… No, ignore me. L: Am I reading too much into it…?
As a thinker, L has a lot of unfinished thoughts he says out loud. Some border on cliché, others are musings about things he'd like to do or that he's missing.
I wonder if some of his thoughts end up trailing off because, suddenly, he catches himself and believes they're not important? Or that he doesn't think the MC would be interested in what he has to say beyond work matters?
L: “In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn.” Though, too much sleep isn’t good for anyone. L: If you think about things persistently, noticing all the sides to them will come naturally. L: Strawberries… Despite the name, they aren’t actually berries. How berry disappointing. L: The one who has thought it through wins. It’s true for chess, and for deduction. But in the case of love… I don't know.
He's also a philosopher at heart, always thinking about the human condition. In these we can also witness his dry humour, silly puns along with a subtle desire to share his thoughts on the world and give helpful advice.
As for love, L is cautious but willing to learn. It's a topic where he's out of his depth.
L: Um, Watari is… L: I wonder if Watari’s asleep? L: What could Watari be up to? L: Today is Thanksgiving Day. I am truly grateful to Watari for his diligence.
I found it interesting how L's thoughts eventually go back to Watari and what he's doing. He's the one person that L relies on and whom he interacts with the most. Other people are passing acquaintances at best, who show little interest in L beyond work.
Notice how he mentions diligence? Although it is a utilitarian consideration, it also reveals a thankfulness for the comforts of familiarity and the peace of mind that trusting someone close brings. This is a topic we'll explore better at a later stage, i.e., how trust and acts of service work as a relationship builder.
Romance
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Neutral stage
One of the first things I've noticed is that, during the early stages of the relationship, L is still very formal and quite a bit dismissive — even borderline rude. As his sugar fix gets sated by the MC's keen suggestions (Watari provides the ingredients, of course), L grows gradually more fond of them and wants to include the MC in his life with an enthusiasm I can only define as endearing.
L: Aren’t you bored? You don’t have to check in on me. L: Don’t you have stuff to do?
At the beginning, L is still wary of the MC on a personal level as they have absolutely no rapport beyond a partnership of circumstance and usefulness in the name of justice. He's quick to get bored and doesn't take it very well when he's given sweets he isn't craving. A bit childish, one could say, the way he sulks when the MC errs by not reading his mind.
L: Did I enjoy it? Let me just say “no comment”. (about sweets that weren't quite to his taste)
It's also very in-character for L to feel both annoyed at someone who is randomly calling him and be suspicious of their motives.
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Growing interest
L: Spending the afternoon with you isn’t so bad. L: Even though it’s late, you’re not going to bed, huh? L: You must be a night owl, [F/N]. L: I’m a little curious about you, [F/N]. L: Are you having a good time? I’m just curious. L: You’re kind of… Ah, no, forget I said anything.
He starts addressing the MC by their first name as he becomes more enamoured. It's very sweet. I was pleasantly surprised at how attentive L becomes as he gradually comes to the conclusion that this is a person who understands him.
Mind, due to game mechanics the MC gains approval by giving L sweets, but from a narrative perspective what's really happening is that L not only feels seen and understood, but also accepted. And when that happens, he starts lowering his walls and relaxing.
As a plot device, I would say these are defining moments within L's thought process here; he's curious about the MC, finds them interesting enough to want to know more them and pursues that curiosity to see what they might have in common. It seems he's both a little baffled and content about this development.
L: [F/N], what do you think of when you see a sunset? L: What are you doing this afternoon? Oh, should I not have asked? L: Are you a night owl? Oh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.
It should also be noted that L is very mindful of boundaries. There's a tentative, almost shy attempt to connect. He's determined to indulge in his curiosity since the MC's attentiveness towards him shows an opening for closeness he's unused to (but is happy about) and to tend to his more immediate needs (i.e., food cravings), which in turn shows a genuine concern for him. Aside from Watari, I doubt anyone ever extended L similar kindness.
And it is in this determination to get to know the MC that I also find Mello's words (AA: LABB Murder Cases) that L is actually a very active, aggressive individual with absolutely no interest in social conventions perfectly represent him this game, as he navigates a growing fondness with expectation, curiosity and caution — on his own terms, while minding that he doesn't overstep.
L: Staying up late talking to you… It makes me feel calm.
I find it particularly heartbreaking how this confession of L unknowingly makes it more transparent how burdened he is. The spine curved by burdens unseen, the addiction to mind games and sweets; all of these point to stress factors which isolate him further, increasing the loneliness and lack of affection in his life.
That L feels the need to mention the MC makes him feel calm seems telling.
L: We’re both late workers, huh? That makes me happy. L: [F/N]… You’re pretty formidable. L: It’s reassuring to have a partner like you. You’re someone I can trust. L: Your feelings have been received. (Valentine's Day) L: The fact we’ve become so close was an unexpected development on my part.
And here it is, the acknowledgement just as L enters the highest stages of approval, where he expresses admiration and happiness at the close bond he developed with the MC.
"An unexpected development on my part" is quite the turn of phrase. One can only wonder, but I'd make an educated guess that L didn't see this coming because:
a) no one showed feelings towards him before. In his line of work, hidden behind a screen there is no time to indulge or get attached to anyone (he would mistrust their intentions anyway) and so L keeps everyone at arms length, sharing little more than a professional side of himself and fostering utilitarian relationships that help him win "games". L ultimately carries various burdens the average civilian would never be able to understand, all due to the pressure of his job. When failing at the "game of cat and mouse" means being responsible for the likely deaths of dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands, the stakes are up in unimaginable ways. What started as a thrill chase can have catastrophic consequences should L fail. That in itself alienates him from society at large. It's a game that L plays well and absolutely profits from, but it is also an indicative of two major flaws: his addictive personality and how he suppresses his emotions to carry on. Coincidentally, it's the expanded universe, in particular Another Note: LA BB Murder Case and L: Change the WorLd, that give us the best insight into this. This isn't too dissimilar to the struggles policemen face in high risk jobs or technicians who have to flag and delete sensitive content from online platforms. These people end up changed from what they see — and some carry traumas for the rest of their lives. That's not to say that L doesn't feel for others. He respects people whom he considers good or morally upstanding (Soichiro Yagami), who are competent in their line of work (Naomi Misora, Mogi), worthy of a second chance (Aiber and Wedy), who speak their minds, unafraid (Aizawa) or who are reliable, loyal to him as a person and not just his cause, in whom he can place his trust and feel secure won't betray him (Watari). The MC seems to fall mostly in the last category, though the relationship is rather precocious — and there seems to be a fair amount of wishful thinking and even projecting on L's part, since communication happens over a device connecting two people remotely. He falls both for the idea of the individual and their attentiveness towards him. When L mentions that they make him feel calm, I'd argue it comes both as a surprise to him and a confession of a closeness and safety he intimately craved — though I personally view L as someone who feels lonely and wanting healthy human contact, even if his social skills might not be the best (worsened by his distrust of people as a whole). Someone who ultimately is willing to adapt to him but whom he can adapt to, as well. Someone who sees him as a person and not an unfeeling robot. It's a POV that certainly challenges certain aspects of DN: Vol 13. I would further argue that L's portrayal has evolved significantly beyond the manga, and that his subsequent humanising is partially a result of the creative liberties the English translations took, as well as a more empathetic view of the character and hidden struggles. Each medium displays a separate iteration of L, with common variables.
b) L fosters distant relationships with others as a safety measure. Aside from Watari, L's contact with other people had always been distant, work-focused, perhaps even tainted by notions of his supposed creepiness as a kinky detective "who relished bizarre murders" (L:CtW). He's useful to the police because he achieves favourable results, though L is still viewed as "a human computer, capable only of measuring mass murders in terms of cold numbers, a reclusive sociopath" (L:CtW). He isn't necessarily liked; in fact, I would argue he rubs people the wrong way most of the time — as we can see during his interactions with the Task Force, during the events of Death Note. L is tolerated, a useful asset who is both mysterious and a pain to deal with. However, he's also put on a pedestal due to his status (i.e., Relight, the children at Wammy's). For the latter, he purposely shatters their idea of L as this unbeatable, paragon of justice by defining himself as a monster (anime), a dishonest cheating human being who hates losing (manga). I do share in lux-mea-lex's perspective on L doubting his own humanity and how it fuels a certain self-hatred for distrusting everyone around him. As lux mentions, "love comes with trust" and L is an excellent detective precisely because he questions everything and everyone — but it comes at a cost: his own loneliness. To draw a parallel, L's ultimate flaw — and that which makes him great at his job — is not unlike what we see during the moments of extreme anguish that Veronica Mars goes through in her personal relationships and which draw people away from her when she oversteps boundaries to prove she's not being lied to. That mistrust comes from experience, for people burdened with having seen too much and it's not unlike a kind of paranoia acquired when one has to deal with the worst of humanity on a daily basis.
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Full reciprocity
L: [F/N] you’re the light that illuminates the dark night. That’s an exaggeration of course, but… L: What I need to live is glucose… and to talk to you. Nourishment for my brain and heart. L: When we’re together, I feel like there’s no problem we can’t solve. L: The afternoons I get to spend with you are precious to me.
When the MC achieves the stage of full reciprocity with L, he's very open to showing vulnerability and lowering his emotional defenses. I found this to be particularly sweet, as L is such a secretive man with so many hidden layers that him being willing to show such honesty with that one person he holds dear is incredible character development.
Beyond the game, I would say that achieving this stage with L would be much more difficult and, naturally, would involve going beyond picking the best sweets for him.
Something important to keep in mind is that L seems to value acts of service, as the people who interact with him more closely have some utility value and aid his work. However, L's life revolves around his work; he lives and breathes his detective work, which is why having a partner who brings him peace would be so important.
L: The time I spend with you is as important to me as the sweets. L: Good morning. It makes me really happy to see you here. L: For your sake… I’d think of a way to get through anything. We share a bond. L: When you have time, I’d like to take you to a shop that makes the best sweets. L: When you’re free, how about we play tennis together? I will have Watari reserve a court. L: If something were to happen to me… I want you, as the person I hold dearest, to carry on the L moniker. L: When my thoughts hit a dead end late at night, I feel like I’m stuck in a maze. But, having you here makes me feel reassured.
I also found it very sweet how L takes the initiative to plan for activities to do together with the MC. And how their presence, their reassuring words make him feel at ease. It seems that a loving relationship would give L a goal in life beyond his work.
Carrying on the L moniker... this quote might be the result of L's trust in the MC growing during the events of the game, or a sentiment L nurtures due to the MC being attentive enough to understand his specific cravings. But being able to read L and having the mental dexterity to become him are different things, as the latter involves a lifestyle that few would want and a complete focus on work. Even FBI agents have lives beyond work.
L: I learned from you that sweets are the bond that brings people together. L: You give me true peace of mind. No one could ever replace you. L: The way I am now, I… I can’t think straight when you’re not around. L: Being able to share this sunset with you, I couldn’t ask for anything more. L: You understand, don’t you [F/N]? What my heart so strongly desires is something more… L: When I talk to you, I feel like my senses are sharpened. Thanks to that, my radar has become more sensitive.
What a sweet guy. I love how L focuses on the little things and just wants to spend time together with the person he holds dearest. It's almost as if he daydreams a close, loving relationship — a trait that clashes with L's logical side.
This game and the expanded universe of Death Note have convinced me that there are many more layers to L than what we can see in the main story.
As Fu Takahashi, who plays L in the 2020 Japanese version of the musical, said:
“(...) A common thing about L among these versions is that, despite his superficial image as a smart guy who hates losing, he actually feels lonely and needs affection, I imagine. Perhaps he is an orphan – his character suggests so. He tries to control his emotions, like the feelings towards his parents, or romantic feelings; that’s why he is sort of dependent on games or battles of the mind. So I want to play L while thinking about the foundations on which his personality has been formed.”
I think this quote and the game are actually very telling of L's core personality and how it moves beyond that cold, calculating persona that defines him in the manga. It's also more in line with the characterisation that we see in the anime and the books, which help humanise L.
As I mentioned elsewhere, learning how to trust and be comfortable around someone else would do L wonders. Though that person would have to accept him for who he is and help him learn how to navigate a healthy relationship.
Perhaps the true test of love, for L, would even be for him to be confronted with someone who knows who he really is and, is not only kind to him, but also sees the best in him — regardless of his flaws. I think that we've had a glimpse of it in this game and it's a breath of fresh air.
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imfinereallyy · 7 months ago
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Steve and Eddie don’t get together for awhile—in fact it takes them longer than most people expect. It’s not filled with miscommunication and longing though. Instead it’s a slow build to falling in love.
Steve and Eddie do grow close after the spring break from hell. In fact, they would come to consider each other best friends (second only to Robin, as under the friendship agreement she made Eddie sign). But they fall into an easy sort of friendship, finding more things in common than just the kids eventually. They share a love of weird, eclectic movies, cars, weird food recipes, and even books. They teach each other about the stuff neither one would ever dream to be interested in.
Eddie learns about sports intensely. To the point, he joins a softball league with Steve and Robin (she is only team manager, there to look at the pretty girls who signed up).
Steve learns all about music. To the point he wants to learn an instrument. He wants to learn guitar at first, wanting to share Eddie’s love for it but finds it’s not for him. Instead, he takes up the drums, much to Robins's reluctance.
It’s simple between them, despite their history (both upside down and non-upside down alike). It’s not something Steve has with anyone else, seeing as most of his friendships involve a complexity that he can’t even understand himself.
It goes on for years, supporting each other through nightmares, heartbreak, grief (Eddie), and a sexuality crisis (Steve). They get tattoos together, take odd classes at the rec center together, and eventually share an apartment together with Robin in Chicago.
Robin tries to convince Steve for years there is something between him and Eddie. But Steve denies it, and he really means it.
Eventually life changes, their friendship stays strong but things are bound to take new shape.
Steve moves out to live with his boyfriend of a year. Eddie helps him, even cooks dinner for the two of them in their new apartment. They’re all friends, they hangout all the time.
Months pass, things seem okay, fine. Then, a year and change passea. Things are a little sour. Steve and Eddie’s friendship stays strong, but Steve seems to have problems with his boyfriend. Eddie listens because he cares; he loves Steve, and Steve loves him. They’re best friends; they would do anything for each other.
Including telling your best friend that maybe this guy isn’t good for him.
Steve doesn’t react poorly, just small. He shrinks in on himself. Like he knows Eddie’s right but doesn’t want to agree. Instead, Steve smiles sadly and moves on.
But Eddie doesn’t hear from Steve for a month.
It drives him insane; they haven’t gone that long without talking since Eddie was in a temporary coma. He’s worried he might have cost himself a best friend. Robin had moved in with her girlfriend a month before his talk with Steve, so Eddie was left to his own devices in his new one-bedroom apartment. Spiraling about Steve.
Robin said he was fine, and Eddie should believe her but he can’t help but worry.
He almost cracked and went to Steve’s apartment, keys in his hands ready to storm the castle.
Except….
When Eddie throws his apartment door open, there’s Steve, hand raised, ready to knock.
He looks exhausted, with two bags under his eyes and one bag in his hand.
“Hi.” Is all he managed to croak out before falling into Eddie’s arms, which had been open and ready for the sweet boy.
After the crying had calmed down and they had moved to the couch, Steve explained everything.
How Eddie had been right, Steve and his boyfriend weren’t good for each other. How he had been isolated from everyone except Eddie and Robin. How the last month, the fighting had only escalated. How things had slipped from just arguments to unforgivable words and actions.
How Steve was worried that everyone would choose his boyfriend instead of him.
Eddie rushed to ease his worries and offered to beat the guy up. It made Steve laugh.
Steve tells him he doesn’t have anywhere to go, but he’ll get out of his hair. Maybe go to Robin’s.
Eddie insisted Steve stayed and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
That’s when things start to slowly change.
Steve promises to look for a new place right away, Eddie says it’s no rush.
The first night, Steve tries to sleep on the couch, but Eddie pushes him to the bedroom, insisting they can share. It’s not like they haven’t before; it’s nothing new.
Except it is.
Suddenly, the days pass, and Eddie can’t fall asleep unless Steve is beside him. And Steve can’t stay asleep if Eddie isn’t there.
It starts off on respectful sides, but pushes into tangled limbs in the middle of the night, to finally just snuggling into each other's arms even before they fall asleep.
Everything else is the same….yet somehow different.
It’s like every little thing they do together brings a new kind of joy. Even boring things like doing the dishes or laundry seem so much better with Steve around.
They start to know each other’s habits, even more so than before, with how little space there is now in the apartment. Steve knows the exact place where Eddie always forgets his keys and the way he stretches his spine when he’s tired versus the way he does when he’s bored.
They fall into a lovely pattern of warmth and a type of love they can’t quite place.
They both don’t talk about it, but Steve ponders on it often. Why it feels so different now? After all these years? It hits him one day that it isn’t because he loves Eddie any less or more than he did a few years ago. No, it’s because they both have grown, and changed from who they used to be.
And so has the love between them.
Steve and Eddie, at 19 and 20, could never have the love they have now for each other, for the type of people they were then. Their love was platonic, wholesome, and what they needed then. Steve could not love the kind of man Eddie was then, and vice versa.
Now though, grown and changed but somehow still the same, their love was something new and bright.
Steve only smiled at the realization, not in any rush to move forward. Just enjoying his time with his Eddie.
Eventually, though, Steve stops looking for a new place, and Eddie never asks him to leave. Everyone refers to the apartment as theirs and not just Eddie’s. Robin stops making sly comments and instead smiles happily, almost fondly, at them when they gravitate toward each other. Eddie asks for Steve’s advice on how to deal with the landlord. Steve opens the mail regardless of whose name is on the front. Months pass, and suddenly, Steve is turning 28, and Eddie has a cupcake with a singular candle on it.
“Make a wish, sweetheart.” Eddie says, the soft glow of the flame lighting up his face.
Steve smiles softly at him and leans in. It’s not a risk, in the end, to kiss Eddie. It should be nerve-wracking and scary to change their friendship. But it’s not—it’s easy.
Their lips are soft as they lightly kiss. Steve whispers against Eddie’s mouth, “Don’t want a wish. I have everything I need.”
Eddie huffs a laugh across Steve’s lips. He says nothing—he doesn’t need to. Instead, Eddie leans in again, capturing Steve’s mouth once more.
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Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3
lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)
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Ancient Recipes
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The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.
With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 
The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.
Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.
“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.
He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”
You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”
“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”
There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 
“What are you making?”
Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”
Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.
“Smells good,” you say. 
He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”
Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”
You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”
“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.
You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”
You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 
A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 
“What am I missing?” He demands.
Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”
“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”
Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”
Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”
Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”
Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”
You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”
“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.
You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”
“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.
“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”
“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 
Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 
“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 
Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.
“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”
“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 
“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.
“I’m following the recipe!”
Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”
Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”
“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”
“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 
“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 
“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.
“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 
“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”
Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”
Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”
Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”
His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.
“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.
Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 
It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 
“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 
“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 
You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”
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adviceformefromme · 10 months ago
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What no one tells you about self love...
You’ll often feel like you’re a pendulum swinging from one extreme to another. You go hard, you’re reading Atomic Habits, you’re eating the organic veggies for lunch AND dinner, the apartment is immaculate, you look and feel great…until…until quite literally the opposite. Washing your hair becomes a chore, you’re in a mood with the dog and your organised healthy eating has now become something you have to do, and in turn tastes like crappy vegetables with no soul or life. Why has self love become such an uphill effort?
This is because you’ve focused on the doing. The joy of self love has been missing, yes you can meditate for 40 days. Yes, you can go for runs throughout the week, but where is your joy? When is your inner child getting play? As important as the reading, the pilates classes, the podcasts are. You need joy. And this is why you rebel. You want to scroll on your phone instead of reading that book, you want to make something quick because you’re not in the mood to cook the Ottelenghi recipe or make the seed cycling crackers. Because adulting 247 is not fun. You need variety, play, laughter. When did life become so serious? Understand that you need a break from cooking, a takeout once a week is a healthy balance. Watching a movie during the week is not a sin, and it doesn’t need to be on Gaia. The self development books are great, but so is fiction and a little fantasy. Disciplined mornings are life changing, but so is sleeping in on Sunday, and having no set regiment. Balance is key, and not having balance is the reason why self love is starting to feel like a chore. So take some time to reflect on your ‘level up regiment’ and throw some balance in to the mix, adding some play, and a sprinkle of laughter. What you’ll start to see is that the swinging pendulum finds some middle ground and self love is really in the sweet spot called balance. 
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echoofadream · 3 months ago
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what is fav patient's day to day schedule? since most of his time are spent alone in the house
Warnings: mentions of murder and rape, slight smut
This is how I see it:
He wakes up early in the morning, before you. After he's done showering, brushing his teeth and doing his skincare, he goes to the kitchen and makes coffee and breakfast. He likes to try new recipes for you every morning, so you wouldn't get bored and let me tell you his cooking is amazing. He also prepares your lunchboxes for when you're at work because he doesn't want you going to a random restaurant or cafe for lunch. Who knows what could happen there? What if someone puts something in your food or drink?! What if questionable people start hitting on you, then follow you to the hospital and when you're alone on the side walk they push you into an empty alley and brutally murder and/or sexually assault you?! Was there a big chance for this to happen? No. Was the chance 0 percent. Also no. That was good enough reason for him to worry.
He wakes you up gently, usually massaging your back and scalp. He begs for you to let him help you shower, but you often refuse knowing what that usually leads to. At the table he waits patiently for your opinion on his breakfast and after you tell him how good it tastes you start getting ready to go to work.
As soon as you leave he goes back to the kitchen and clears the table, then washes the dishes. After that he goes to the bathroom and grabs one of your dirty panties from the laundry basket, sniffs them, then goes to your shared bedroom and humps your pillow with them in your mouth. Sometimes he records himself and sends it to you while you're at the hospital, impatiently waiting for your return and the inevitable punishment. Usually he just straight up tells you when you get home so that you can call him a needy slut and fuck him senselessly.
Anyway back to what he does. When he's finished he takes your soaked pillow case and throws it into the washing machine along with the other clothes in the basket and, while he waits for it to be done, he irons the clothes he washed yesterday. As he's doing that he puts his expensive headphones on (a gift from you) and accesses the app he has installed on your phone, listening to what you're doing during the day. He begged so much for you to let him have your phone listened from time to time, saying it was for your safety, and you agreed. If he steps out of line you'd punish him anyway so there is nothing wrong with taking some extra safety measures as well as keeping your favorite patient happy.
When he's done he takes the clothes out of the washing machine and puts them on the dryer on the balcony, so they could be dry and ready to iron tomorrow. He doesn't clean the apartment every day but still does it often enough that every time he repeats it it doesn't take too much of his time. He also shaves when there's the need, wanting his skin to be faultless for when you come back from work.
He spends the rest of his day watching cooking tutorials, cat videos on tiktok, scrolling through sites where they sell sex toys etc. He watches Netflix sometimes or even reads some of the books you have in your house, but he absolutely hates the romance ones because the man simply doesn't love the woman as much as he should!
Before you get home he makes dinner and gets his hole ready for whatever you have in mind when you arrive. When you're there he's just so so happy. When he hears your key in the lock he kneels in front of the door and takes off your shoes as soon as you enter, then gets up and takes off your coat and leads you to the kitchen. After dinner you usually tell him what you have in mind for the night and if you wanna play with him he goes to the bedroom and gets comfortable on the bed while you shower. If not he pours some wine for the both of you and puts on a movie.
At the end of the day the two of you go to sleep together, him holding your body so close to his to feel your warmth and show you all the love he has for you.
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yournowheregirl · 2 years ago
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thinking about italian steve today
thinking about steve, who loves to cook and wants to get better at it, so he starts digging through the many, many cabinets in the harrington home until he finds an old recipe book written by his great-grandma. it’s filled with recipes he remembers his mom and nonna making when he was little, only problem is that it’s all written in italian
thinking about robin offering to translate it for him but instead, steve asks her to help him learn the language instead. it’s hard at first - the language is so different from what he’s used to - but robin is patient (surprisingly so) and helps him with the pronunciation and sentence structures until it gets easier and easier.
thinking about steve finally getting the hang of the language and inviting everyone over for a big italian dinner once he translates his great-grandma’s recipe book and basking in everyone’s praise and incessant begging to bring his tiramisu to every hellfire meeting and movie night from now on.
thinking about steve and robin taking advantage of speaking a language no one else knows to talk shit about everyone behind their backs. they bitch all about that one guy who takes forever choosing between two very similar movies at family video. they whisper about robin’s love life, for once not being scared of someone overhearing them. they joke about the party being little shits whenever steve so graciously drives them around town. this, of course, drives dustin nuts - he can’t handle not being in the know about everything that happens around him - which only makes steve and robin cackle even louder.
thinking about eddie somehow never catching steve speaking italian until he shows up unannounced at the harrington home one day (steve had given all of them spare keys to use whenever they needed). eddie’s daydreaming as he walks into the foyer but he stops dead in his tracks when he hears steve talking on the phone. in rapid italian. he stays there, flushed and frozen in the middle of the foyer, until he hears steve laughing and saying a quick “ciao nonna, ti voglio bene” and he has to scramble himself together to look somewhat presentable. steve goes to greet eddie but all eddie can blurt out is “what the fuck was that” as he tries to get his brain back online. steve just shrugs and replies “italian. you want a beer?”
thinking about steve noticing how flustered eddie seems to get whenever he speaks italian and using this to his advantage since eddie’s been having the upper hand in this whole will-they-won��t-they-situation they’ve got going on for the past few months.
thinking about eddie just melting into a puddle of goo whenever steve casually speaks italian and not knowing that steve’s just talking about the weather today or that he’s actually joking about loving eddie’s twenty-minute monologue about the history of metal.
thinking of steve becoming a little more brave every time and starting to slip little compliments in here and there because he’s still too chicken to confess his feelings in english. one time it’s a casual “tesoro mio” when eddie brings him lunch and another time it’s a “sono pazzo di te” when eddie makes him laugh so hard his stomach hurts. one day, when he’s feeling particularly confident and eddie’s looking particularly gorgeous, he leans over the counter at family video and plays with one of eddie’s stray curls as he tells him “mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi”. the rush of seeing eddie’s face turn bright pink stays with steve for the rest of that day.
thinking about eddie falling asleep against steve’s side on the couch one night and steve feel so warm and happy inside, that he whispers a soft “mi sono innamorato di te" against eddie’s hair. that particular phrase - i’m in love with you - had been buzzing inside his brain for weeks now but he couldn’t get himself to say it out loud. it’s too obvious, too revealing. but he figures it’s safe now that eddie’s softly snoring beside him.
thinking about eddie suddenly jumping up, wide-eyed and frantic, his voice a few octaves higher than usual as he says “wait, you’re in love with me?”
special thanks to @legitcookie @sidekick-hero & @cheatghost for cheering me on about this silly little idea. the things steve says in italian are as follows (my apologies to the actual italians, i tried my best!): - ciao nonna, ti voglio bene - bye grandma, i love you (familial) - tesoro mio - my darling - sono pazzo di te - i’m crazy about you - mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi - i’m lost in your eyes
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maidflowery · 3 months ago
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Pinky Promise
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Jiaoqiu x Reader
You have a bad day and Jiaoqiu is there for you. But unbeknownst to you...
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An extremely shitty day.
That was the only way to describe it.
Where absolutely nothing went right. When you thought it couldn't get worse, but it did.
But at least now by leaning against the table, faceplanting it, you could forget your anger, sorrow, frustration, even if just a moment.
How you wish you could just disappear.
Just then, you heard the door opening gently.
"You forgot to lock the front door again."
A smooth, silvery voice rang.
You didn't bother to look up. You already knew who that was. Besides, he had sent you a chat informing his visit beforehand.
Just then, you caught a whiff of a sweet-smelling fragrance...
...Chocolate?
You peeked through the gap in your arms.
True enough, the pink Foxian stood there, with a porcelain cup in his hand. He was your neighbor.
You found him buried in the snow, injured, but that was a story for another time. After you saved him, he moved in next door, and even gave you his key.
Ever since you learned how much of a good cook he was, you'd pester him to cook for you. As such, you didn't really mind that he invited himself into your room.
Jiaoqiu was smiling, but when he noticed your gaze, he leaned in slightly.
"Well, despite my advice, it seems that someone went ahead and pulled an all-nighter anyway."
His kind tone bore soft admonishment.
Your puffy red eyes must've been a dead giveaway. Yeah, you weren't only sad, but tired.
Under normal circumstances, you'd have countered it with, 'Whachu gonna do about it, Doc? Feed me chillies?'
By the way, he was actually a doctor. He'd often give you health advice, which sometimes went ignored.
"...There was an important presentation today." You could only muster a weak reply.
"You've mentioned. How did it go?"
"...Well, I-I did my best, but..."
"Well done."
"...But I messed up. I couldn't answer the professor's questions, and he threatened to fail me. I'll have to make up for it by doing a bunch of assignments later..."
Even though some passed it for so much less. All that effort, down the drain because the professor felt like giving you hell today. But it is what it is.
"...Well done."
Was it just your feeling, or did his voice sound softer...?
And no, it wasn't sarcasm. You knew he was far too kind for that.
You finally looked up.
"!"
Jiaoqiu's gentle smile was unchanging as always, without a shred of disappointment.
"I'm sorry to hear about the unsatisfactory result. But I know how hard you worked for it. So, well done."
The smile of someone who never stopped believing you.
Suddenly, something hot trickled down your cheek. Realizing what it was, you immediately buried your face in your arms.
"W-what about you? You never told me why you were visiting!"
"I tried my hands at making something."
Clink.
You could hear the sound of a cup being placed down on the table, right in front of you.
"This is..."
Almost immediately, you were tantalized by the rich, sweet fragrance of cocoa, mixed with the bitterness of coffee.
"Ah, the cafe that had a wonderful Creamy Coco Frappuccino shut down... How I wish I can taste it again..."
Once, you had said that in front of him in passing.
Jiaoqiu's culinary expertise was Chinese cuisine, and more often than not, traditional. Most of the time, he didn't recognize the modern and trendy dishes you mentioned. For example, cafes and their stylists drink.
But ever since that day, you found new recipe books strewn around his place. Rather than messy, it just seemed as if someone was trying to pinpoint a certain recipe, no matter how long it took.
Afterward, he'd cook the dishes you mentioned, one after another.
Sometimes, you didn't even remember bringing them up.
Yet, he remembered, kept your words in his heart, and wholeheartedly cooked them for you, one by one.
"I'm experimenting with something."
"I cooked too much. Why don't you have some?"
"I tried my hands at this."
Every time, he'd say such things, probably to not make you feel bad.
This drink was also one of them. The rim of the cup was even coated with hardened chocolate, and sprinkled with rock sugars, like in those cafes.
"Why don't you give it a try?" Jiaoqiu urged you.
Without further ado, you took a sip of the drink.
Creamy rich chocolate, bittersweet coffee, and milky caramel flowed into your mouth, pampering your taste buds. Gradually, your broken heart was being mended.
You placed the half-empty cup down, silently staring at the swirling liquid.
"How is it?" He asked with a hint of anticipation.
"...Jiaoqiu, marry me."
"...!!"
Overflowing with gratitude, happiness, and warmth, those words just spilled out.
Your eyes were getting heavier for some reason.
...Right, you didn't sleep at all last night, re-reading the materials and all.
I'm so sleepy...
As your consciousness faded, you saw Jiaoqiu reaching out toward you.
"Promise me, then."
He presented you his pinky finger.
Under the dazzling sunlight, his pink hair fluttered, reminiscent of fallen cherry blossoms. He gave you a smile just as bright, if not brighter than the sun.
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So, how could you resist?
Before you fell asleep, you remembered hooking fingers with him.
︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・
Jiaoqiu carried the sleeping girl to her room, before tucking her in.
Then, he peered into her face.
"...Jiaoqiu, marry me."
Even as he recalled it, his heart skipped a beat. It was a rare physical phenomenon for him, probably once in a lifetime. Jiaoqiu only recalled experiencing it twice. Just now, and when she nursed him to health back then.
"...Whether you spoke without thinking, sleep talked, or just joked, you've made a promise."
Golden eyes shimmered under the shadow.
"If you go back on your words, I'll chase you until the end of earth."
︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・
Extra
After that, with the support, afternoon snacks, and midnight snacks of Jiaoqiu, you managed to finish all the assignments, and passed the class.
But somehow, the professor who ripped you to shreds suffered from severe diarrhea and had to take sick leave for a month.
All's well that ends well?
Sequel:
Good Night, Sweet Dream
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nanowrimo · 1 year ago
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How to Use Meal Scenes to Develop Characters, Relationships, and Your World
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Worldbuilding can sound complicated, but why not make it a little more simple by focusing on food? It may be the domestic touch you need! NaNo Participant Lacey Pfalz talks about using meal scenes to develop your world and your characters.
There’s one thing that remains a universal human truth: we love food! While our perspectives on food might differ, people all across the globe gather together during mealtimes — and thus, mealtimes are made memorable.
Meal scenes can also help your story in a few key ways, especially if it’s fantasy, science fiction or historical fiction.
Meal Scenes for Worldbuilding
If we’re using food for worldbuilding purposes, does that mean we can say we’re worldcooking?
Just kidding! Worldbuilding, especially in historical fiction, science fiction, and fantasy, is an integral part of what you must do as a writer (In truth, it’s also important for writers from other genres, but we’re specializing in these three today).
Meal scenes can be an important part of the worldbuilding process. Food is intrinsically tied to a culture or a country, or even a small region. That’s why it’s important, when building your own world, to take time to figure out the bare minimum of what your characters will be eating.
Let’s do an example. Your world is fantasy, your kingdom set beside a wide river. Perhaps your capital city, where much of the action is located, is surrounded by wetland.
If this is the case, what types of food would likely grow there? Seafood, fished from the large river, might be your characters’ staple proteins, while rice might grow better than another grain because of your kingdom’s wetlands. Fruit, perhaps even coconuts, might be the sweet stuff your main character loves to devour.
Remember that your world directly affects what types of food your characters will be having: is there coffee in space? What about in Byzantine Turkey or your new riverside kingdom?
Shannon Chakraborty does a phenomenal job with this in her fantasy series The Daevabad Trilogy, which is set in the eighteenth century across the Middle East. Her first book, The City of Brass, is especially good at showcasing the often-fragrant dishes of the various cultures across this region of the world (some copies of the book even have a short list of recipes from the book that foodies can try whipping up for themselves).
While her book is set within the fantastical world of the Djinn, her food is based upon recipes that have been preserved for centuries.
There’s one small reminder with all of this: it’s important not to get too caught up in describing each dish so much that you end up taking the focus away from the characters in a meal scene. Meal scenes can be breaks from fast action, but they should also continue the plot.
Meal Scenes for Developing Characters & Relationships
Character development can be hard, especially if you have a handful of characters that you love! But in order to make your readers love them too, you have to show them interacting with the world around them.
That guy we love to hate? Maybe he’s a loner who has grown up eating by himself. Having him forced to sit and eat with a group of people who have known each other for years might be an awkward moment for him, but it helps readers to learn more about his own worldview — and it might just help get him out of his shell, or at least off the love-to-hate list.
Besides helping you develop a single character, writing meal scenes with some of your characters can also help readers learn more about the relationship between your characters.
Let’s say you have your main character, MC. MC leans over and steals a French fry from her best friend. There’s no issue, right? That’s because they like each other, and the best friend has likely eaten with MC before, and knows she enjoys stealing food from other people’s plates.
But when MC tries it again, this time with the guy sitting next to her, he whacks her hand to stop her from stealing. This sparks an argument that seems, at least to everyone else watching it, pointless, but readers will know from the rest of the story that they’re the enemies-to-lovers trope. This argument is just one of many before they finally acknowledge their feelings towards one another.
See how that worked? A meal scene wasn’t useless; it pulled the story along by giving readers another taste of the enemies-to-lovers trope that so many enjoy reading.
If you need a more visible example of how this can play out, try watching a movie like Pride & Prejudice, (the book is amazing, but I’m suggesting the movie as a visual aid). The movie does a great job showcasing just how different the members of the Bennet family are individually, how they act around each other, and how they act around company.
There’s often little action in meal scenes, so they’re not meant to be overused. The plot should also still be there — take the cringey proposal scene between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth in Pride & Prejudice, for example, which follows directly after a meal when the rest of her family abandons her. In this case, the plot (and Mr. Collins’ advances) ruin her meal.
Perhaps your meal scene is the much-needed respite in between battling fierce aliens for planet Earth, or the first time your main character’s enemy-to-lover has entered her home. Either way, meal scenes are an important way to immerse your readers in what kind of world they’re imagining as well as showcasing how your characters act and — more importantly — how they act around each other.
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Lacey Pfalz is a travel journalist by day, hopeful author by night. She belongs to the class of graduates she dubs the Class of COVID-19, having graduated with a double major in history and writing at Wisconsin Lutheran College in 2020. Her writing passions include fantasy, science fiction and historical fiction (with a little bit of romance, of course!). As someone with a physical disability, it’s her dream to write a fantasy series featuring a main character like her. Header Image by Jack Sparrow
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listofwhyyouloveher · 3 months ago
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Could i request a platonic shy reader the gang just basically adopts? Her home life is rough so she basically stays on the curtis couch. Darry made her really nervous at first but she realizes he's just a big sweetheart and is very soft with her when she comes over with a fever just not feeling well? All the gang pitching in to help her feel better?
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Summary: you're sick and the gang tries to help you feel better
Warnings: none
Authors note: none
Every second that passed only made your body ache more. You were stuck in a tug of war between pain and uncomfortableness, the fever that you have putting pressure on you that made you weak frame shake. You were currently laying on the couch in the Curtis brothers house swaddled in blankets provided by Darry.
Darry would often peek his head in to check up on you, giving you a fresh damp towel and adjusting your blankets gingerly. You would always instinctively curl up towards him, even though he used to scare you out of your wits you'd grown to love him like a teddy bear.
Pony and Soda walked in, kneeling by your makeshift bed.
"Your mom called, she wants you home," Pony whispered. You shut your eyes and sighed before shaking your head.
"I don't want'a" you mumbled, pulling the blankets over your head and knocking of the paper towel. Soda pulled the blanket down slightly and reapplied the compress.
"We know, Y/n" he said, soothingly. Suddenly the door cracked open slightly, you squeezed the blankets in fear, thinking it wad your family here to come pick you up, however the rest of the gang stumbled in.
"Look who I found drinking outside," Steve said, pointing at Dally, Johnny and Two Bit boisterously before immediately quieting down when seeing you.
"Woah, what's happening here?" Johnny asked, his voice as quiet as a mouse like he was trying not to disturb people.
"Y/n's got a pretty nasty fever," Darry said sternly, closing the door to stop the light from hurting your sensitive eyes.
"Awww, poor baby," Two Bit cooed obnoxiously before settling down on the floor near the couch.
"How ya feeling kid?" Dally asked, handing you a cigarette.
Darry smacked it out of his hands, "That will probably make it worse," he scored Dally but he just shrugged and kicked his feet up.
"Steve, what was that tea you made me when I was sick. Your mom's recipe or something. It worked wonders for me, make it for them," Soda observed and Steve nodded.
"Alright, who wants to come to the store with me," Steve said, pulling out a wad of cash and counting his bills.
"I'll go, I need to get soup for Y/n," Darry said, grabbing the keys to his worn truck.
"And I'm gonna go get a couple more beers," Dally said smugly, getting up and stretching before heading out the door.
"And I'm going to take all of Dallys beers," Two Bit joked and followed him out. Soda, Steve and Darry followed.
The door closed and silence enveloped you.
"Finally, they're gone." Pony said, sitting next to you with a thick book. Johnny sat next to him.
"What're readin'?" You mumbled trying to catch a glimpse of the title.
"Gone with the wind, want me to read it outloud?" He asked.
You nodded eagerly and Johnny hummed a noise of approval too.
"Alright, just promise that you'll sleep after this chapter," he said, you huffed but smiled as Pony started reading.
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shewroteaworld · 4 months ago
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How He Made You Feel
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Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader
Premise: Right before the first sleepover of your romantic relationship, Jake puts a high school teacher behind bars for attempted sexual assault. The case brings up some difficult high school memories for you.
Warnings: mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sexual harassment, downplaying of sexual harassment
Word count: approx. 2,500
A/N: I'm back! Let me know in the comments if you want more Jake Peralta fics. (I'm not sure there's an audience for it.) Hope you enjoy! <3
Jake Peralta is the king of cinnamon buns. Eating the ones you bake, that is. 
“This is like heaven on my tongue!” He moans. He licks some cream cheese frosting off the top. “Babe, these are seriously amazing.”
Your back relaxes. “Thanks, Jakey.”
Right after your shift at the 99th precinct, you zipped to your apartment to chill before the first sleepover of your romantic relationship (no pressure). Rather than chillaxing, your anxiety sparked, and kneading dough became the outlet. Your in-a-pinch cinnamon buns never fail to soothe your soul or anyone’s taste buds. Now that you’re in his kitchen, you’re grateful for the baking conniption. Jake’s indulgence gives you a moment to ground.
As he gulps down another bite, his eyebrow quirks. “Jakey?” He flashes that cheeky grin you love to hate.
Your face warms. “I never said that.”
“Nope! No take backs! It’s on the record!”
You scoff. “Aren’t you a little young for hearing loss?” 
“Hey!” He pokes the edge of your forced frown. “You said it, and you know it, and it was adorable.”
Your heart beats in your ears. “You liked it?” 
Jake’s eyes soften. “Yeah, I liked it.” He smirks mischievously. “And you’re getting all mushy on me.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Peralta.” 
“I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.” He pokes your side.
You jerk away. “You don’t, and you know it.”
“If you say so! But I know what cutesy-nickname territory means.”
The buzz of his phone spares you from his ribbing. “Our DoorDash is here. I’m going to pick it up downstairs.” Jake slips on his slides.
“Kay. Thanks.”
He leans over his kitchen chair to kiss your cheek. “Course. BRB.”
Jake rushes out his apartment door. In his absence, you observe his place: the mopped kitchen tile, his clean olive green couch, his stash of beginner recipe books tucked on a shelf above a kitchen counter. When you first transferred to the 99, you couldn’t imagine Peralta had an inkling of an organized domestic in him. 
Your tan trench coat hangs next to his leather NYPD jacket on the coat rack in the hall. Your heart palpitates. That was the first stitch of your domestic lives being sewn together. You wring your hands.
Jake doesn’t care about stains. You’ll eat Indian take-out from the container while watching some corny comedy he loves and you bemoan on his bare sofa. You tidy the kitchen table anyway.
The wave of anxiety begins to crest as you straighten junk mail from random magazines and political campaigns. You brush crumbs off the new placemats you forced on him through Office Secret Santa. (Weave placements are a recipe for soup-spill disasters.) You leave the manila files of cases he’s working on untouched off to the side.
You pour two tall glasses of water.  So what if you ordered drinks? Jake’s bloodstream will become half orange soda if someone doesn’t counteract his addiction.
Just as you’re setting the glasses down, there’s a knock on the door.
You jump. Your hand jerks, sending a manila folder flying to the floor, its confidential contents scattering behind the island on impact. Shit. 
“Forgot my keys, babe!” Jake calls.
“Coming!” 
Upon opening the door, a smiley Jake awaits you, holding a white cardboard box to his chest. The mouth watering aromas wafting from it don’t calm your cortisol levels. 
His head tilts. “Why the long face?”
You step aside. “When you knocked, I jumped and slapped one of your files off the kitchen table. I’m sorry.”
His brow furrows. “It’s no problem.” He says, as if he doesn’t understand why you’re on edge. 
“Everything spilled out.” You elaborate. Though you wouldn’t describe Jake as neat, he’s particular. Though the order of his files and notes are Greek to everyone else, it makes sense to him. He hates when someone “tidies” it without his permission.
Jake walks towards the kitchen. “Yeah, on the floor, not another dimension. It’s okay. Besides, it doesn’t need to be in any specific order– I closed that case today. I’m returning everything to the file room first thing.”
You trail behind him. “Did you close while I was uptown with Boyle?”
“Yep.” He plops the takeout box on the table. He kneels down to gather the rogue papers. “While you were out gathering evidence, I was cracking the code on this creep.”
Your eyebrows knit. “Sexual assault case?” You sort your take out into categories: his, hers, and shared. 
Jake taps a stack of papers straight against a countertop. “Attempted.  And he was a fucking high school teacher. Luckily, it was all on security cam. Easy win.”
The styrofoam carton of lamb samosas trembles in your hand. “That’s upsetting.”
“Majorly. Sadly, he’ll probably get off easy. I mean it was attempted. Not that it should’ve been full-on assault or that what happened isn’t terrible–”
“I understand what you mean, Jake.” You assure. It’s how sex crimes go. 
You open your potato samosa carton. “These are the bomb dot com,” you say. It’s an easy lay up for him.
“That ass is the bomb dot com!” Your chest loosens at the change of topic.
You shoot Jake a glare. He puts his hands up. 
He picks up the last of stray papers as you grab plates and utensils.  When he’s done, he grabs the drink holder, your Pineapple Fanta and your pink lemonade each tucked in a cardboard slot. “Let’s go sit, m’lady.”
You reach for the drink holder with your free hand, but he twists his torso away. He nods towards the living room. “Relax. Pick a show. Remote’s on the coffee table.”
When Jake joins you on the couch, you immediately reach for your potato samosas.
“You weren’t kidding when you said those were your favorite.” Jake chuckles.
“Absolutely not. Try the lamb. They should be in the center– that’s the shared column.”
Jake affectionately rolls his eyes. “You treat life like an Excel spreadsheet.”
“Someone has to.” The cold condensation on your small pink lemonade chills your hand. “Hopefully, a detective would.”
He grabs his chest as if you struck him. “Your passive aggression is a stab to my heart!”
You pop open the container of jasmine rice. “What subject did that teacher teach?” You ask.
“The creeper?”
“Mhmm.”
Jake opens a container of chicken saagwala. “History.”
You hum disappointedly. “History teachers were always the coolest. Especially the male ones.” You stab your plastic fork into the rice and reach for the curry. 
“Now I wish I slept less in history class.” Jake remarks. 
You stare blankly at the coffee table as you spoon your (hopefully) extra spicy curry onto your plate. 
The couch sighs as Jake sinks back into the cushions, his left arm stretching to lay behind you on the sofa’s back. “Such a scumbag. The girl was barely legal–could’ve been one of his own students. To make matters worse, she looked 16.”
In your head, you count your breaths. You zone in on the white grains of rice you’re absentmindedly pushing into your curry sauce. 
You see your high school hallway. You remember the misery, the pressure. Mr. Johnston.
“You listening to me, babe?”
He taps your calf with the tip of his slide. You flinch.
“Sorry,” he says. Didn’t mean to startle you.” 
“That’s alright.”
In your peripheral vision, he leans forward. “You okay?”
You nod. “I’m great.” You click on his TV. “Just got a bit lost in my thoughts for a second.”
You feel Jake studying your side profile.
You click on Netflix. “Let’s do something lighthearted.” You drop down to his My List. Thankfully, you don’t have to search long to find something passable. 
“This one okay?” You ask. “I’ve been wanting to watch this too.”
“More than okay.”
The strings of the production company’s opening music fill the living room. You fiddle with your fork. Queasiness bites at you.
You need to shake this. This was your first sleepover with Jake. Don’t ruin this experience for yourself. It was so long ago. Nothing happened. It was uncomfortable, but you were alright. It was nowhere close to what that victim experienced. You’re fine. Is your asthma acting up?
You rest your plate on the coffee table. “Keep watching. I need the restroom real quick.”
You speed walk across the apartment to his bathroom, locking the door behind you. You turn the faucet to screeching cold. You dip your head into the basin and splash ice water in your face.
Your lungs gasp open from shock. Your brain drops back into your body. 
Everything’s safe. You’re okay. Tonight will be great. Don’t let some creep going to trial rattle you like this and ruin the evening.
You find a clean towel in a drawer and dry your face. After taking a detour to his bathroom to toss it in his hamper, you take three final deep breaths, your hand over your heart.
You’re fine. Nothing’s happening.
You return to the couch with a soft smile. “Sorry, Jake.” 
“No problem. You okay?” He asks again.
You hate lying to him. “Yeah, I just had to pee.” 
The movie snaps back to action. Though you didn’t ask, he paused for you. As the film unfurls, as predicted, you poke fun at the plot and Jake ardently defends it. The banter warms you, but the knot in the pit of your stomach refuses to unfurl.
Once your plate is clean, you lay your head on Jake’s shoulder. As the leading actress does something you don’t register, Jake’s laughter ripples through your hollow chest. 
It was so long ago. Nothing happened. It was uncomfortable, but you survived it. He never touched you. It was so long ago. He must be retired by now. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing to be your fault. Nothing criminal happened. Nothing. It was so–
“(Y/N).”
You gasp. You snap up straight. The movie’s been paused. 
“Sorry, I couldn’t get your attention.” Jake says gently. 
Your heart sinks. “It’s…I’m just in my head.” You roughly run a hand through your hair. “So sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. What’s wrong?”
“It doesn’t matter.” You stare at your knees.
Jake intertwines his fingers with yours. “It’s definitely substantial for you to be distracted like this.” He squeezes your hand. “I’m here.”
You smile sadly. “I don’t want to bring the vibe down.”
“Acquiring (Y/N) lore rivals catching bad guys as my favorite thing to do. Telling me about your feelings could never bring the vibe down. ”
A courteous dismissal gets tangled in your throat. Is that really what you want to say? 
Your free hand fiddles with the end of your hair. “I really don’t know how to talk about this.”
“Take all the time you need.”
You force a deep breath. “Your case threw me off.”
His eyebrows knit. “The teacher–creep one?”
You nod. “The teacher…you said he harassed a young woman who looked 16.”
He nods.
“It reminds me of an experience I had in high school when I was 17.”
His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “How so?” He asks gently.
“There was… this science teacher– Mr. Johnston. One semester, I had to walk by his classroom everyday. I had to walk from my homeroom on the opposite end of the school, so sometimes I would get there right after the bell rang. When I was alone, he would always offer to walk me to class…even though it was only a couple doors down from his.”
Jake nods. 
“He said he was trying to make sure I didn’t get in trouble for tardiness…but he never told my teacher he walked me. And he did it even after he knew I wouldn’t get in trouble and that I was only going two doors down from his classroom.”
“That’s definitely weird.”
“He also used to do this weird thing where he would walk right behind me…I think it was supposed to be copying my walk to tease me. One day, he came up super close behind me– close enough to smell my perfume. All I could think about was how close to my ass he was.”
Anger cuts through Jake’s expression. “Did anyone see this?” 
“Some other teachers did. They didn’t see anything wrong with it…they laughed it off everytime. I guess they saw it as a harmless joke. But, it made me really uncomfortable. Everyday I would pray that he wouldn’t say hi to me or be weird and would just let me walk to class. I figured maybe I was crazy, making something out of nothing, but it just felt wrong. At the time, I tried to block it out, I had other stressors to deal with…but right after I graduated, I reflected on it and other stories I heard about him…and I was creeped out.”
“(Y/N), I’m so sorry. Did you ever report this?”
“I confided in another teacher about it, but I never formally reported anything. I don’t know if he ever talked to his colleague about his behavior. Plus, I didn't think there was anything concrete to report.” You sigh. “It felt so wrong. I remember being so afraid of being alone in a room with him…he was a co-advisor for some extracurriculars I was a part of. There, he was always completely indifferent towards me but in those hallways in the morning…”
“With less people.” Jake notes. “And colleagues who didn’t take his behavior seriously.” 
You nod. 
“(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry. That isn’t okay.”
“I’m still not really sure if anything did happen to me. He didn’t touch me….he just…”
Jake shakes his head. “Followed you down hallways and got close to your body. That’s not okay.” He squeezes your hand again. “How did it make you feel?”
“Violated.” You admit.
Jake nods. “That’s what matters. How he made you feel matters. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Tears well in your eyes. “Thanks, Jake.”
Jake offers you a tissue. “Do you know what ever happened to that teacher?”
You wipe your eyes. “I believe he retired…not 100% sure.”
His face hardens. “I can track him down if you like.”
“No, Jake…there’s nothing to report. No evidence. Just a dead-end case of “he said she said” from over 10 years ago. Even if I reported it earlier, I doubt anything could have happened.”
Jake groans. “This sucks. I’m sorry for what you went through. No one should feel uncomfortable with a teacher at school. Jesus, every time I think I get what women go through, I learn it’s worse than I imagined. I’m so, so sorry.”
You dab your eyes. “Thank you for not belittling what happened to me. It’s great to have someone like you...you don't downplay what I feel."
He kisses your nose. “It’s part of my boyfriend duties; it’s what I’m here for.”
You press a tender kiss to his lips. “Thank you for being a safe space to talk.”
He returns the peck. “Forever and always.”
Jake Peralta is a goofball. He can be messy– both literally and figuratively. But at the core of it all was a mensch’s heart. 
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tacticalwhispers · 3 months ago
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Price as your Husband
First post is a fluff post!!! Protector Mode: Price is naturally protective, but with you, it's on another level. He always ensures your safe, whether it's by checking the locks twice or staying close during crowded events. His protective nature isn't overbearing; he simply can't imagine a world without you.
Late-Night Calls: Despite his busy schedule, Price always finds time to call you before bed, even if it's just for a few minutes. These conversations are his way of grounding himself after a long day, and he cherishes the sound of your voice more than anything.
Tea Time Together: Price loves his tea, and he’s introduced you to his favorite blends. you guys have a daily ritual of sharing a cup together, whether it's in the early morning before he heads out or in the evening as they wind down. It’s your guys little moment of peace.
Soft Spot: Price has a tough exterior, but your is his weakness. One smile from you, and he’s wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to see you happy, even if it means trying something out of his comfort zone, like dancing or cooking a new recipe.
Subtle Affection: Price isn’t one for grand gestures; his affection is shown in small, meaningful ways. A hand on your lower back as you walk, a kiss on your forehead before leaving, or simply holding your hand under the table during a meeting. These little moments mean the world to him.
Homebody: Despite the adventurous nature of his job, Price loves being at home with you. A quiet evening on the couch, watching a movie or reading a book together, is his idea of perfection. He treasures these moments of normalcy.
Secret Softie: Price has a reputation to maintain, but when it’s just him and you, he lets his guard down. He’s surprisingly playful, cracking jokes, and even indulging in your silly whims, like singing off-key in the shower or having a pillow fight.
Always Thinking of you: Whether he's on a mission or just out for a grocery run, Price always has you on his mind. He’ll bring back something small that reminded him of you—a book, a snack, or a small trinket—just to see you smile.
Endless Patience: Price is endlessly patient with you, whether you're having a bad day or just feeling a bit off. He knows how to calm you down, offering quiet support or gentle words. He’s your rock, always steady and reliable.
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