#should point out it's on hold while i a) fix some things in the earlier chapters and

[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

part 2 | part 3

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

[bitchiswild]

Lookingforadom.com

G!P Huh Yunjin x F!Reader

Words Count: 6k

Warnings: soft dom yunjin I think… yea it should be

A/n: haiii Sorry 😓 been busy and having writers block😫

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kazuha asks, a note of concern in her voice.

You sigh, your eyes fixed on the laptop screen where the search bar reads, Lookingforadom.com. "At this point, Kazuha, I need some action in my life," you admit.

Kazuha tilts her head thoughtfully. "I mean, at least find a soft dom. I feel like that's more up your alley."

You click on the first search result, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The website's homepage is sleek and inviting, filled with profiles of people seeking all sorts of dynamics. You glance at Kazuha, who is watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Okay, let's see," you murmur, scrolling through the profiles. Some of them are intimidating, with bold statements and intense photographs. You feel a bit overwhelmed but continue your search, determined to find someone who matches Kazuha's suggestion.

After a few minutes, you find a profile that catches your eye. The username is "GentleMistress," and the description reads: "Soft dom seeking a respectful and eager sub. Let's explore boundaries with care and mutual respect."

"This one looks promising," you say, turning the laptop towards Kazuha. She leans in, reading the profile over your shoulder.

"She seems nice," she agrees. "Why don't you send her a message?"

Taking a deep breath, you click on the message button and start typing:

"Hi, GentleMistress. I'm new to this and looking for someone who can guide me gently. Your profile stood out to me because it seems like you value respect and care. I'd love to chat and see if we connect."

You hover over the send button for a moment, then click it before you can second-guess yourself. The message sends, and you lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly.

Kazuha smiles reassuringly. "I think you made a good choice. Now we wait."

As you wait for a response, you chat about other things, trying to distract yourself from the anticipation. Your mind keeps drifting back to the message, wondering what kind of person GentleMistress is and what this new adventure will bring into your life.

Hours have passed, and doubts begin to creep into your mind. What if GentleMistress doesn't like you? What if this whole thing is a mistake? The "what ifs" swirl around your head, making you second-guess your decision.

Kazuha had left a while ago, reassuring you with a hug before she went. Now, alone in your room, the silence is deafening. You keep glancing at your phone, willing a notification to appear.

Just as you’re about to give up hope, a ping echoes from your phone. Your heart races as you pick it up, the screen illuminating with a new message notification. You hold your breath and open it.

It's from GentleMistress.

"Hi there! Thank you for reaching out. I appreciate your honesty and courage in taking this step. I'd love to chat and get to know you better. When would you be available for a video call?"

A mix of relief and excitement washes over you. You quickly type back a response, your fingers trembling slightly.

"Hi, GentleMistress. Thank you for replying! I'm free tomorrow evening if that works for you."

You hit send and stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. Within minutes, another ping sounds.

"Tomorrow evening sounds perfect. Looking forward to it. Have a great night!"

You can't help but smile. The doubts that had plagued you earlier start to fade, replaced by a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow is going to be interesting, and you feel a flicker of hope for this new adventure.

As you put your phone down, you take a deep breath and decide to relax for the rest of the night. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it, the potential for something new and exciting.

The next day feels like it drags on forever. You go about your usual routine, but your mind keeps drifting back to the upcoming video call. What will GentleMistress be like? What will you talk about? A mix of excitement and nerves buzzes in your stomach.

Finally, evening arrives. You sit down at your desk, making sure your laptop camera is positioned correctly. Taking a deep breath, you open your laptop and log in to the website, finding the message from GentleMistress. Right on time, a notification pops up: "GentleMistress is calling."

You click accept, and the screen fills with GentleMistress's image. She has kind eyes and a warm smile that instantly puts you at ease.

"Hi there," she greets, her voice calm and reassuring. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Hi," you respond, trying to steady your voice. "It's nice to meet you too."

You spend the first few minutes exchanging pleasantries, talking about your day and getting comfortable with each other. GentleMistress is patient and attentive, asking questions about your interests and making you feel heard.

"So," she says, leaning in a little closer to the camera, "what made you decide to look for this kind of relationship?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "I've been feeling like I need more excitement in my life, something different. I want to explore this side of myself, but I also want to do it with someone who respects boundaries and is caring."

GentleMistress nods thoughtfully. "That's a very mature and honest reason. I appreciate you sharing that with me. It's important to have a foundation of trust and communication in any relationship, especially in this dynamic."

As the conversation continues, you find yourself relaxing more and more. GentleMistress's approach is gentle and respectful, exactly what you were hoping for. She shares her own experiences and reassures you that it's okay to take things at your own pace.

After about an hour, the conversation winds down. "This has been really great," GentleMistress says. "I think we have a good connection, and I'd like to continue getting to know you better. How do you feel about that?"

You smile, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "I feel the same way. I'd like to continue as well."

"Excellent," she replies, her smile widening. "Let's set up another call soon. In the meantime, if you have any questions or just want to chat, feel free to message me anytime."

You end the call with a sense of accomplishment and a newfound sense of excitement for what lies ahead. This new adventure is starting to feel like the right choice, and you can't wait to see where it leads.

As you close your laptop, you realize that sometimes taking a leap of faith can lead to the most rewarding experiences. You feel a renewed sense of hope and anticipation for the future.

Over the next few days, you exchange messages with GentleMistress. Each conversation reveals more about her, and you feel increasingly comfortable and excited about this new connection. She shares her thoughts on boundaries, trust, and the importance of communication in a dynamic like the one you're exploring.

One evening, as you're scrolling through her latest message, a new notification pops up. It's a message from Kazuha.

"Hey, how's it going with GentleMistress? Have you guys talked more?"

You smile and quickly type back, "Yeah, we've been messaging a lot. She's really kind and respectful. I think this could be something good."

Almost immediately, Kazuha replies, "I'm glad to hear that! Do you have another call scheduled?"

"Not yet," you type back. "But I think I'll suggest one soon."

Later that night, you muster up the courage to ask GentleMistress for another video call. Her response is prompt and positive, agreeing to chat the next evening. You feel a flutter of anticipation as you prepare for the call.

The next evening, you log in a few minutes early, eager to see GentleMistress again. When the call connects, her warm smile greets you once more.

"Hello again," she says, her voice smooth and welcoming. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," you reply. "I've been looking forward to this."

"Me too," she responds, her eyes twinkling. "I thought tonight we could talk a bit more about what you're looking for and how we can explore that together."

You nod, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "That sounds great. I think I'd like to start slowly, really get to know each other and build that trust."

"Absolutely," GentleMistress agrees. "Trust is the foundation of everything we do. It's important that you feel safe and respected at all times."

The conversation flows naturally from there. You discuss your boundaries, your interests, and what excites you about this journey. GentleMistress listens intently, offering her own insights and reassurances.

As the call continues, you feel a growing sense of connection and confidence. GentleMistress's thoughtful approach and genuine care make you feel valued and understood.

"Thank you for being so open with me," GentleMistress says as the call comes to an end. "I think we're building a really good foundation here. Let's plan another call soon, and in the meantime, keep communicating through messages."

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. "I really appreciate how patient and understanding you've been."

After the call, you sit back and reflect on the evening. This journey is just beginning, but already it feels like you're on the right path. With GentleMistress guiding you, you feel a sense of anticipation building inside you, longing for the moment when her gentle touch becomes a reality.

You imagine the future chats, the moments of exploration, and the trust growing between you. The thought of GentleMistress by your side fills you with a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

Closing your eyes, you can almost sense her presence, her calming influence. You realize you're eagerly awaiting the next time you'll see her, the next opportunity to deepen this connection.

The following weekend, you decide to take a break from your usual routine and head to a cozy cafe downtown. As you enter, you scan the room for an empty table, and that's when you spot her—GentleMistress, sitting by the window, lost in thought as she sips her coffee.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her, and you can't resist the urge to walk over.

"Hi," you say with a smile as you approach her table. "Fancy meeting you here."

GentleMistress looks up, surprise flickering in her eyes before a smile spreads across her face. "Well, hello there," she responds, setting her cup down. "What a pleasant surprise indeed."

You pull out the chair opposite her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," she says, gesturing for you to sit. "Please, have a seat."

You settle into the chair, feeling a rush of excitement at being so close to her. The atmosphere is charged with possibility, and you can't help but let a playful grin tug at your lips.

"So, what brings you here today?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"Just taking a break from work," GentleMistress replies. "And enjoying some coffee. What about you?"

"Same here," you say. "Needed a change of scenery. And I'm glad I stumbled upon you."

GentleMistress chuckles softly. "Well, I'm glad you did too."

The conversation flows easily between you, filled with laughter and shared stories. You find yourself flirting subtly, enjoying the playful banter with GentleMistress.

As the conversation continues, you muster up the courage to take it a step further. Leaning in slightly, you shoot her a teasing smile. "You know, I must say, you have the most captivating eyes."

GentleMistress's cheeks tint with a hint of pink, but she meets your gaze with a sparkle in her eyes. "Why, thank you," she replies, her tone playful. "Yours aren't too bad either."

You both share a moment of lingering eye contact, and the air between you crackles with tension. It's exhilarating, knowing that the attraction is mutual.

Before things can escalate further, GentleMistress glances at her watch. "Oh, look at the time. I should probably get going soon."

You feel a pang of disappointment but quickly recover. "Of course. I'll see you soon."

"Looking forward to it," she says with a smile, gathering her things.

As GentleMistress walks away, you watch her go, already counting down the moments until your next encounter.

You barely have time to settle back into your routine after leaving the cafe when your phone buzzes with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see it's from GentleMistress.

"Hey there," the message reads, "I couldn't stop thinking about how lovely you looked today. Would you like to go out tonight? Dinner, perhaps?"

A rush of excitement floods through you at her message. It hasn't even been two hours since you saw her, and she's already texting you. You can't help but smile at her directness and enthusiasm.

Quickly typing a reply, you say, "Hi! That sounds wonderful. I'd love to go out with you tonight."

Almost immediately, another message comes through. "Great! I'll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice ;) Looking forward to it!"

Your heart races at the thought of spending more time with her so soon. You quickly agree and spend the rest of the afternoon eagerly anticipating the evening ahead.

As the clock ticks closer to 7, you find yourself getting ready with a mix of nerves and excitement. You choose your outfit carefully, wanting to make a good impression.

At exactly 7, there's a knock on your door, and when you open it, GentleMistress stands there, looking even more stunning than you remembered.

"Hi," she says, her smile lighting up her face. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look fantastic too."

With a smile, she offers you her arm, and together you head out for a night filled with good food, laughter, and the promise of something more between you.

As you step out with GentleMistress, now knowing her name is Yunjin, you feel a magnetic pull between you. The air crackles with anticipation as you walk side by side, the distance between you charged with unspoken desire.

The restaurant Yunjin has chosen is cozy and dimly lit, the perfect setting for an intimate evening. You're seated at a private corner table, and as you settle in, you can't help but notice the way Yunjin's gaze lingers on you.

"You look stunning tonight," she says, her voice low and filled with warmth.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of her gaze. "You look absolutely gorgeous too."

A smirk plays on Yunjin's lips as she leans in slightly. "I couldn't take my eyes off you earlier. You have this... captivating presence."

Heat rises to your cheeks at her words, and you find yourself drawn to her, unable to look away. The chemistry between you is undeniable, the tension thick in the air.

As the evening progresses, conversation flows easily between you, but underneath it all, there's an undercurrent of something more. Every touch, every glance is charged with electricity, sending tingles down your spine.

At one point, Yunjin's foot brushes against yours under the table, and you feel a jolt of excitement shoot through you. She meets your eyes with a knowing smile, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"You know," she says, her voice husky, "there's something about you that I find incredibly alluring."

Your breath catches in your throat at her words, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is that so?" you manage to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yunjin leans in closer, her lips inches from yours. "Absolutely," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin. "I can't seem to get you out of my mind."

The tension between you is palpable, the desire hanging heavy in the air. You're both on the edge of something exhilarating, something you both crave.

Before things can escalate further, the waiter interrupts, bringing your food and breaking the spell between you. But the intensity of the moment lingers, and you know this is only the beginning of something electrifying between you and Yunjin.

As you finish your meal, the tension between you and Yunjin remains palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. You both step out of the restaurant, and the cool evening air does little to cool the heat between you.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Yunjin suggests, her voice soft yet filled with a hint of anticipation.

"Sure," you reply, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of being alone with her, even just for a little while longer.

You stroll side by side along the quiet streets, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. The silence between you is comfortable, charged with unspoken desires.

After a while, Yunjin breaks the silence. "You know," she says, her voice low, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we met."

The admission sends a thrill through you, and you turn to face her. "I've been thinking about you too," you confess, your heart racing.

Yunjin's gaze softens as she looks at you. "There's something about you that draws me in," she admits. "I feel like we have a connection, something special."

You nod, feeling the intensity of the moment. "I feel it too."

Without warning, Yunjin reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch sending shivers down your spine. The intimacy of the gesture leaves you breathless.

"I want to kiss you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you meet her gaze, desire burning in her eyes. Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, electrifying kiss, and in that moment, the world around you fades away.

The kiss deepens, igniting a fire between you that feels impossible to extinguish. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in each other, the passion and longing consuming you both.

When you finally pull away, breathless and exhilarated, Yunjin smiles, her eyes sparkling with affection.

"We should do this again," she says, her voice filled with promise.

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement for what the future holds. "Definitely," you agree, knowing that this is only the beginning of something extraordinary between you.

As you walk hand in hand with Yunjin, the connection between you feels stronger than ever. You find yourselves drawn to a quiet park nearby, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a romantic ambiance around you.

Finding a secluded bench, you sit down together, the atmosphere heavy with the electricity of the moment.

Yunjin turns to you, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "You know," she begins, her voice filled with sincerity, "there's something about you that I haven't felt in a long time."

Curious, you meet her gaze. "What is it?"

"It's like you awaken something inside me," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "A desire to explore, to connect on a deeper level."

You feel a warmth spread through you at her words, knowing that you feel the same way. "I feel it too," you admit, reaching out to gently caress her hand.

Yunjin leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours. "I want to get to know you more," she says softly, her lips almost brushing against yours. "Every part of you, every inch of you."

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a hunger within you that you can't ignore.

"I want that too," you reply, your voice filled with longing.

Without another word, Yunjin closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It's as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of your desire.

Lost in the moment, you let yourselves be consumed by the fire that burns between you, exploring each other with a hunger that can't be quenched.

When you finally break apart, breathless and exhilarated, Yunjin smiles at you, her eyes filled with tenderness.

"I'm so glad I met you," she whispers, her voice filled with sincerity.

"I'm glad I met you too," you reply, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Yunjin's gaze holds yours, filled with a mixture of desire and affection.

"Would you like to go back to my house?" she asks softly, her voice laced with anticipation.

The question hangs in the air between you, and you feel a surge of excitement at the thought of being alone with her, of exploring this connection further.

A million thoughts race through your mind, but ultimately, you know what you want.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with determination. "I would like that."

Yunjin's smile deepens, and she stands up, offering you her hand. "Come on," she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's go."

As you arrive at Yunjin's house, anticipation hangs thick in the air between you. She leads you inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you as you step through the door.

The soft glow of the lights creates an intimate atmosphere as Yunjin turns to face you, her eyes filled with desire. Without a word, she reaches out and pulls you into her arms, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks flying through you as you melt into each other. Yunjin's lips are soft yet demanding, her hands trailing down your back, pulling you closer.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. It's like you can't get close enough, your bodies pressing together as if trying to merge into one.

Lost in the moment, you stumble backward until your back meets the wall, Yunjin pressing against you, her body molded to yours. Every touch, every caress sends waves of pleasure through you, igniting a fire that burns hot between you.

Yunjin's lips trail down your neck, sending shivers down your spine as she nibbles and kisses along your skin. Your breath hitches with every touch, desire pooling low in your belly.

With a soft moan, you tilt your head back, giving her better access as she explores every inch of your neck with her lips and tongue.

The sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself completely lost in the moment, consumed by the passion and desire that courses between you.

Yunjin's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour, setting your skin ablaze with need. You reciprocate, trailing your own hands along her back, reveling in the feeling of her pressed against you.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in each other, the world outside fading away until there's nothing but the two of you and the fire that burns between you.

Yunjin breaks the intense silence, her voice husky with desire. "Let me take you to my room," she murmurs, her breath warm against your ear, "so I can show you why we met on that website."

Her words send a thrill through you, and you nod eagerly, unable to resist the pull of her invitation.

"Lead the way," you reply, your voice filled with anticipation.

Yunjin takes your hand and leads you down the hall to her bedroom, the air charged with excitement and longing.

As Yunjin guides you to her bedroom, the air crackles with anticipation. Once inside, she turns to face you, her eyes dark with desire and a soft, reassuring smile on her lips. Without a word, she steps closer, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, igniting the passion between you once more.

With practiced movements, Yunjin begins to undress you, her touch sending shivers down your spine as each piece of clothing falls away, leaving you bare before her.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers, her voice filled with reverence as she traces her fingers along your jawline.

Your heart flutters at her words, feeling completely at ease under her gentle gaze.

Yunjin's touch is tender yet purposeful as she begins to undress you, each movement filled with care and affection. As your clothes fall away, you stand before her, exposed and vulnerable yet entirely safe.

With a soft sigh, Yunjin leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It's like every touch, every caress is carefully calculated to make you feel cherished and desired.

As the kiss deepens, Yunjin's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour. Her touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that only she can satisfy.

"I want to take care of you," she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. "To make you feel good."

You nod, unable to find words as desire pools low in your belly.

With a gentle push, Yunjin guides you onto the bed, her eyes never leaving yours. She leans over you, her body hovering just inches above yours, radiating warmth and tenderness.

"I want you to feel every touch," she says softly, her breath warm against your skin.

With that, Yunjin's hands begin to explore your body, tracing every curve and dip with reverence. Her touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As she moves lower, her lips trail kisses along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every caress is like a promise of ecstasy, building the anticipation to unbearable heights.

When she finally reaches between your legs, her touch is gentle yet firm, sending sparks of pleasure dancing along your skin. You gasp at the sensation, arching into her touch as she brings you to the edge of bliss.

"Yunjin," you whimper, your voice filled with need.

She meets your gaze, her eyes filled with love and desire. "I've got you," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody.

With slow, deliberate movements, Yunjin spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to her gaze. Her fingers dance lightly over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, with a teasing touch, Yunjin's tongue darts out, tracing a slow path along your folds, collecting your arousal as she goes. You gasp at the sensation, your breath hitching as she explores you.

Yunjin's tongue works magic, swirling and flicking against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Her fingers join in, slipping inside you with ease, filling you up and driving you wild with need.

You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to her, desperate for more of her touch. Yunjin responds eagerly, her movements becoming more intense, more insistent as she brings you closer to the edge.

With every flick of her tongue and every thrust of her fingers, you feel yourself unraveling, pleasure building to an exquisite peak.

"Oh, Yunjin," you moan, your voice filled with longing.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire as she continues to pleasure you, her touch relentless and intoxicating.

And then, with one final, mind-shattering wave of pleasure, you come undone in her arms, crying out her name as ecstasy washes over you.

Yunjin holds you close as you ride out the waves of pleasure, her touch soft yet messy, her fingers and lips leaving you utterly wrecked but completely satisfied in the best possible way.

Feeling you quivering with pleasure beneath her touch, Yunjin can't ignore the ache between her own legs. The desire to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around her, becomes almost unbearable.

With a soft groan, Yunjin positions herself above you, her hardness straining against her, aching to be buried deep inside you.

Hovering over you, she locks eyes with you, her gaze dark with need as she guides herself to your entrance. The anticipation sends a shiver down her spine as she presses forward, the tip of her hardness teasing your slick folds.

"I need to be inside you," she breathes, her voice thick with desire, her hips moving slowly forward, inch by inch.

You gaze up at her with longing, your own desire mirroring hers, and you nod eagerly, craving the feeling of her inside you just as much.

With a slow, deliberate pace, Yunjin pushes forward, her hardness sliding into you, filling you up until she's buried deep within your warmth. She pauses, savoring the feeling of being joined with you so intimately, the sensation almost overwhelming in its intensity.

"Oh fuck, you feel amazing," Yunjin groans, her voice husky with pleasure, her hips rolling against yours.

You gasp at the fullness of her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. Wrapping your arms around her, you pull her closer, urging her to move.

Yunjin complies, starting to move with a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust is deliberate, calculated to drive you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you're so tight," she moans, her voice filled with admiration, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

Your body responds eagerly to her praise, your own arousal building with each movement. You meet her thrusts eagerly, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronization.

With every thrust, you feel the delicious pressure building inside you, pleasure mounting with each movement. Your bodies meld together, becoming one in the throes of passion.

Yunjin's pace quickens, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she chases her own release, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she groans, her voice filled with reverence, her movements becoming more frantic as she approaches climax.

You arch into her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, your own need driving you both towards climax.

You arch into her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, your own need driving you both towards climax. Sensing your desire, Yunjin shifts position, pulling out of you gently before guiding you onto your hands and knees.

"Let's try something different," she whispers, her voice thick with arousal, her hands gripping your hips as she positions herself behind you.

You eagerly comply, feeling a surge of anticipation as Yunjin lines herself up behind you, her hardness pressing against your slick folds.

With a low growl of need, Yunjin enters you again, this time from behind, and you gasp at the sensation of being filled in a new way.

"Fuck," you moan, the new angle sending bolts of pleasure through you.

Yunjin's hands roam over your body, gripping your hips firmly as she sets a rhythm, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes," she groans, her voice thick with desire as she pounds into you from behind.

"You're doing so well," Yunjin praises, her voice soft yet commanding, her hips moving with purpose as she takes you.

You push back against her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, lost in the pleasure of being taken so completely by her.

With each movement, the intensity builds, pleasure mounting with each deep thrust. Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, driving each other towards ecstasy.

Yunjin's pace quickens, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she chases her own release, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

"You feel so fucking good," she moans, her voice filled with lust and admiration.

You're on the edge, the pleasure building to an exquisite peak, and with one final, powerful thrust, you both cry out in ecstasy as you find release together.

In the throes of orgasm, Yunjin spills her seed inside you, the warmth of her release adding to your pleasure as you clench around her, riding out the waves of ecstasy together.

Collapsed in a heap of pleasure, you both catch your breath, feeling utterly spent but completely satisfied.

After the intense release, you collapse together, breathing heavily, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. Yunjin, still holding you close, gently guides you to lie on your back, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Let me take care of you," she murmurs, her voice filled with tenderness.

You nod, feeling a shiver of anticipation as Yunjin settles between your legs, her fingers trailing down your body until they reach your sensitive core.

With a gentle touch, she begins to play with your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Her touch is skilled, knowing exactly how to make you squirm and moan with delight.

"Oh, Yunjin," you whimper, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

She smiles up at you, her eyes filled with adoration. "You're so responsive," she praises, her voice sending a thrill down your spine.

Yunjin continues her ministrations, her fingers working magic on your sensitive flesh. Each stroke, each caress brings you closer to the edge once again.

You arch into her touch, craving more of her, feeling her seed spilling out of your cunt, mixing with your arousal.

"You're so beautiful like this," Yunjin whispers, her breath warm against your skin, her fingers never ceasing their delicious torture.

The pleasure builds and builds, until you're teetering on the brink once again, your whole body humming with need.

And then, with one final flick of her fingers, you tumble over the edge, crying out her name as pleasure washes over you in waves.

Yunjin holds you through your climax, her touch gentle and comforting as you ride out the aftershocks, feeling completely blissful in her embrace.

Yunjin holds you close, her touch gentle and reassuring as you both catch your breath. She presses soft kisses against your skin, her lips trailing along your neck and collarbone with tenderness.

"You're amazing," she murmurs, her voice filled with genuine affection, "thank you for trusting me."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "Thank you for everything," you reply, your voice soft with contentment.

Yunjin pulls you into a loving embrace, holding you as if she never wants to let go. The room is filled with a sense of peace and intimacy, a sanctuary where you can be completely yourselves.

"I want to take care of you," Yunjin says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

And she does just that, tending to you with gentle touches and sweet words. Whether it's wiping away stray tears, cuddling you close, or simply whispering words of comfort, she's there for you every step of the way.

You bask in her affection, feeling safe and cherished in her arms. There's nowhere else you'd rather be than here, wrapped up in this moment of love and intimacy.

As you lay together, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of happiness.

"I'm so glad I met you," Yunjin says, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Me too," you reply, snuggling closer to her, feeling completely at peace.

Yunjin pulls the covers over you both, tucking them snugly around you as if she's shielding you from the world. She presses a tender kiss to your forehead before snuggling close to you, her warmth comforting against your skin.

For a while, you simply lay there in comfortable silence, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It's a moment of peace and closeness that you wouldn't trade for anything.

Yunjin reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch gentle and loving. "You're welcome here anytime," she says, her eyes locking with yours.

You feel a rush of gratitude for her hospitality and her genuine kindness. With Yunjin, you feel accepted and cared for in a way you've never experienced before.

Snuggled together in the quiet of the night, you feel a sense of belonging, as if you've found a piece of home in each other's arms.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you drift off feeling grateful for this moment, and excited for the future that lies ahead with Yunjin by your side.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer.  "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks.  The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world. 

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[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

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[crystalrainfall]

In brotherhood the Nina conflict is handled varsely differently than it was in the 2003 anime.

First thing to establish is that Edward's age is different, as in the 2003 continuity he's 11-12 years old and he's been living with Tuckers during that time due to his state alchemist exam.

The Elrics knew the Tuckers longer in the 2003 anime.

Whereas in brotherhood I believe the brothers were 14 and 15 respectively and obviously they didn't stay as long with the Tuckers either.

The aftermath of the confrontation between Al, Ed and Tucker is also different.

In brotherhood scar kills both tucker and Nina before the military can properly deal with them.

In 2003 Nina escapes the night the military arrives, what's also important to note is that the Elrics haven't left at that point either.

So while Tucker is captured, the latter, Nina is later killed in an alleyway by Scar.

This is a major divergence from the Manga because this means that the Elrics actually see Nina's corpse splattered onto the wall, because remember they haven't left the scene.

Scar doesn't fight them afterwards like In brotherhood, Edward, in 2003, has an unpleasant conversation with Mustang instead.

In both versions they were very distraught when they found out about what happened to Nina.

Edward in brotherhood after finding out about Nina's death has a reflection of his own limitations as a human and mustang passes by and ultimately doesn't say much if anything, showing no reaction.

In 2003 it's very different as I've already established, Edward sees Nina's corpse, he's more conflicted, he's lived with her for months, he's Twelve... He's absolutely in denial.

Whats worth mentioning is that earlier he wanted to try to at least separate Nina and alaxander and even during his scene of denial he pressed his hands against the wall not expecting anything but just wishing he could fix it.

That's when Mustang confronts Edward in 2003 , yanking him forward, Edward flinches, Alphonse looks concerned in the background, Mustang tells him the harsh reality that he can't breakdown every time something bad happens, he's in the military and he should get his act together.

Harsh reality being, some things can't be fixed.

Edward runs away, the rain still pouring down, concealing his tears and vulnerability from the rest of the world as he mourns the death of the girl he viewed as his own sister.

Something like this scene was foreshadowed earlier in the 2003 anime, this need for Edward to be able to confront the harsh truth but him not being able to because he's a child in an adults world.

This is shown by the scene in which he couldn't stand the sight of one of Barry the choppers victims, the scene reminding him too much of his failed human transmutation, the woman resembling his mother too much. So he passed out.

Edward in brotherhood fights Scar , he doesn't even get the time to mourn Nina's death, this is shown by his utter confusion as scar approaches him, he's saved later by Mustangs team and Hawkeye places her jacket on Edward's shoulder to shield him from the cold and it additionally acts as a silent gesture of comfort. The Nina arc ends with the brothers moving forward with the help of their comrades.

Edward in 2003 despite not fighting Scar directly after the Nina arc, doesn't get a break either.

After Nina's death, he's ordered to take over Tuckers research as the brass believes tuckers work to still hold some value.

This means salvaging anything useful for the military and potentially warrant that a similar inhumane thing like the case of Nina and Alexander can be repeated.

Edward doesn't want this, he doesn't want to be a state alchemist if it means to assist to such heinous things.

Instead he wants to do something right and find Nina's killer.

He isn't rewarded for throwing a tantrum though. He isn't rewarded at all for trying to be noble and do something right.

Instead Winry is kidnapped by Barry the chopper, they both almost die, Ed almost makes the hard decision of almost killing Barry to survive, and he breaks down again.

Faced with his own weakness, he cries alone, no comfort given.

Ed is rarely rewarded for anything in 2003, any hope he gets is crumbled down immediately, these episodes occurred back to back, one bad thing after another and it just goes on like this. The narrative chews him up and makes it so that no matter what Edward wants to do it will never go his way because it's a cruel and random world.

Equivalent exchange doesn't exist and the heroes aren't guaranteed to be rewarded for all their efforts no matter how selfless they are. Because the world's not so ideal like in Brotherhood.

[whumpfish]

Reference: Psychogenic Fever

You've seen it in anime loads of times: the protagonist overexerts themselves or experiences a highly stressful event, and they dramatically collapse. The next thing you know, they're in bed with a cloth over their forehead and an ally informs the rest of us that they have a fever.

Well, it turns out that can actually happen.

If your immune system is already shot, and you experience acute levels of stress, your body will respond to those stress hormones the way it would normally respond to a virus. Your core heats up, and you develop a full-blown fever.

According to what information I was able to dig up, some patients can develop core temperatures of 41°C/105°F. I didn't apparently record mine when this was going on, but given the temperature dysregulation caused by the seroquel I take that prevents me from cooling off if I get hot and the reverse, and how hot literally anything I touched got, I was probably in that higher range.

The Progression:

I went to bed at around 1:45 a.m. I'd already been through so much stress with my grandfather's funeral, how my dad elected to process grief, and scrambling to get the SSI-D function report that had arrived in our mailbox when I was out of town returned on time, I had already crashed out earlier that day from the energy expenditure. Now, I have ME/CFS, and crashing out after exertion/stress is normal, so nothing stood out as a warning sign. If there was one, I dismissed it as my usual fatigue. I went to sleep.

I woke up about 2.5 hours later, experiencing sleep paralysis--presumably in lieu of a fever dream. When I woke up the rest of the way, I was sweating profusely and feeling about like I'd been mowing the lawn in 105° heat. I've done that, and collapsed from heat exhaustion from it, before. I was hotter at that moment than I had been back then.

I put a wrist to my forehead, and the sensation was like holding a hairdryer on high to my forehead at point-blank range. My pillow was just as hot, and no amount of flipping fixed that. (I should point out here that I normally run cold--ridiculously cold, sleep with the quilt up in the middle of a Texas summer cold--and this never happens unless I am very sick.)

I smelled like fever. Some people don't think you can smell fevers, but I was a sickly child and spent so much of my life in pediatricians' waiting rooms full of feverish children that after a while I noticed a particular smell unique to those environments. Since then, I've been able to accurately identify it elsewhere by that smell.

I was completely confused. I'd had to go into the grocery store without a mask earlier that day because I ran out, but even I don't present that quickly. It couldn't be from that. Some old geek part of me remembered Anime Fever, and on a hunch, I googled "can you give yourself a fever from stress?" And yes. Yes, you can.

I sat up, and when I touched the mattress where I had been sleeping with one hand, it felt like trying to pick a dish up out of the dishwasher immediately after it's through running. It was that hot.

The recommended treatment was anti-inflammatories and any relevant psych meds that can reduce anxiety, so I took 800mg of ibuprofen and an extra, small dose of seroquel. Then I took my clothes off and downed a few bottles of water, my usual trick for cooling down once I've gotten too hot, and sat on the foot of my bed to give my mattress time to cool down before getting back in bed to try to sleep.

The fever broke at around 6:15 a.m., and I was finally able to rotate back to the other side of my mattress and pillow, and go back to sleep. I slept until 1:20 p.m.

The Takeaway: This is a real phenomenon! Use it on your whumpees with poor immune systems, either naturally or broken down from their ordeal. It's no longer just an anime trope.

[licorice-tea]

Loving and Letting Go

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, eventually fluff, a little bit of platonic Zosan <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: FIRST REQUEST YAY! tysm to the anon who requested this, i loved writing this! hopefully it fits what you wanted! and ugh i tried to write it so it’s clear that sanji is genuinely in love for the reader, so much so that he’s willing to grow and change for them. he’s just so sweet, one of my fave characters for sure! oh also the title is from a song by Pham Viphurit! enjoy <3

Sanji loves you, so so so much. More than he could ever put into words, or cards and gifts of perfectly delicious meals and fruity drinks, or even hugs and kisses every time the two of you cross paths. But he still tries to convey the extent of his feelings for you, though it will never be enough in his humble opinion.

You, on the other hand, hold the complete opposite opinion. Yes, Sanji is sweet and loving and a great boyfriend, but sometimes he just does too much. Like, when he gives you presents out of the blue; you enjoyed the gifts at first, but overtime you started to feel bad for him spending all of his extra money on you. Then there were the things he’d say to you; you could be doing the most mundane of tasks, or be sick and rotting in bed, and Sanji would still address you as “my goddess.” Simply put, you feel undeserving of the amount of attention he gives you, and it makes you nervous.

Today, like everyday since the two of you became official (and quite a while before that), you wake up in his arms. Though Sanji wakes up much earlier than you in order to prepare breakfast and coffees and teas for the crew, he always makes time to come back and wake you up. And you know, as soon as you shuffle or allow your breathing to become uneven, that he’ll know you’re awake. So you try to fall back asleep in hopes he’ll just go and let you wake up alone. At least then your performance wont have to start until breakfast.

Unfortunately, Sanji just knows you too well. He notices the gentle flutter of your lashes and how your breathing had quickened, if only for a moment. Some people might consider this a luxury; to have such an attentive partner who knows you better than you know yourself. And you did too, at one point.

“Mon amour,” he whispers, “are you awake? I brought you a cup of coffee, and breakfast is ready in the kitchen.”

Sanji’s breath is warm on the back of your neck, but he places a kiss there and suddenly it’s burning hot. He’s so insatiable, smothering you in displays of affection first thing in the morning.

You really can’t take it anymore, and so you gently remove the arm that lays across you. “Go away, Sanji.” It comes off harsher than intended, but the buildup of stress from his constant admiration has reached its peak.

“…Are you ok? Are you sick?”

You sigh, still not turning to face him. “I’m fine, I just… you need to let me be.”

“Angel, have I done something? I’ll make it up to you, I swear, name what you want-“

“I want you to go away.”

Sanji holds his breath for a moment. You’re wounding him with your words, which you should feel bad for, but he’s literally giving you a headache. He doesn’t understand that even you, usually so accepting and reciprocating of all his love, have limits and require space.

He retracts his arms from around you and slips out of the bed, making sure to fix the comforter after. Sanji’s hand lingers on the door knob for a moment before he finally turns it. And while you let out a relieved, but shaky exhale, he tries to hold back tears on the other side of the door.

The tension between you two is palatable as ever. Not that there isn’t always some sort of tension, because there is, but usually it’s more… passionate. Or romantic, at the very least. But for the first time, the rest of the crew can tell that you and Sanji seem to be in the middle of some sort of lovers quarrel. He watches you from a distance and attempts to approach you several times throughout the course of the day, and every time you find some way to make yourself busy.

Even Zoro, in all his obliviousness, notices how little you two are interacting. “Hey, shitty cook.”

“Piss off, Zoro. I’m not in the mood for your stupidity.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya know, with you and y/n. She’s avoiding you, so… What’d you do?”

“I DIDN’T-“ Sanji catches himself yelling, and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. She just told me to leave her alone, and I’m respecting her wishes.”

“Huh. Well, alright then.”

Zoro doesn’t speak further, but Sanji can tell he has something to say since he’s still sitting at the kitchen island instead of taking his sake to enjoy on the deck. “What? Just spit it out already, asshole.”

He shrugs. “You’re probably suffocating her with all your… love-y shit.”

“Suffocating? No, no I treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Y/n is my goddess, my night and day, she is the queen of my heart and-“

“You see what I mean? Y/n is great or whatever, but she’s a human. She’s one of our crewmates, for fucks sake, and you worship the ground she walks on instead of treating her like one.”

“Because I love her.”

“She knows you love her, idiot.”

“… Hm. You think so?”

“It’s pretty fucking obvious.”

Sanji scoffs. “Whatever.”

He walks out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, but mind elsewhere. Perhaps Zoro… is right? Even that doesn’t sound possible, but… Sanji could understand how you might, on occasion, feel a little smothered. But even if you did, he thought you enjoyed it! You always welcomed his lips on yours or his hands around you, and you often would giggle and accept his compliments, returning them with your own. So when did you start to feel fed up with him? Had he not paid you enough attention, too caught up in worshipping you as the (surprisingly emotionally intelligent) swordsman had said? And most importantly, was it too late now to repair the damage?

Sanji finds you in the aquarium bar, finally, after searching the upper deck and checking your room and your study below deck. The door is open, so he knocks against the frame. You turn away from the tank to look at him with eyes wide open.

“Can we talk?”

You nod silently, and scoot over in the booth seat assuming that he would want to sit by you. But to your (pleasant?) surprise, Sanji takes a seat in a chair on the other side of the table.

“Mon- ahem, y/n. I’ve come to understand that maybe… Maybe you’ve felt smothered by me, recently. Is that true?”

You’re surprised that he recognizes why you’re upset. “Mhm. A little.”

“Can you tell me more, my love? I want to fix this, to fix my behavior.”

“…You’re perfect, Sanji. And I love you so much, it’s just… It makes me anxious when you’re always so- so extreme, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Which, he already knows; the gifts, the constant PDA, being around you 24/7…

You sigh. “You know what I mean, Sanji…”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” He thinks.

“You’re always hovering over me, and as much as I love being around you, too, it’s just too much. I need space, sometimes, and I’m only human but you treat me like… Like I’m somehow different or better than the others, and that… I don’t know, it makes me feel bad about myself.”

“I never want you to feel that way-“

“But you do. I feel guilty and nervous and- and..” you sniffle. Oh god, you’re crying. “I love you, but sometimes it’s too much.”

Sanji feels tears pricking the in the corners of his eyes, too. Was there really such a thing as too much affection? Clearly, if he had just made you cry from all of it.

“Y/n… I- I’m so sorry, I never meant to overwhelm you.”

You respond with an equally soft tone. “I know. It’s ok.”

He shakes his head and reaches an arm across the table, but second guessed the action and retracts his hand. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have ever done anything to make you uncomfortable in the first place.

You reach out this time, putting one hand over both of his. He glances up at you. “You didn’t know.”

“Still….”

“In the future, maybe… Maybe try to do a little less, if that makes sense?”

Sanji nods, and reaches out again; this time to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I just love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too.”

While cradling your face in one hand, he continues. “I’ll give you more space from now on, if that’s what will make you feel better.”

“I think it will.”

And it does. In the coming days, Sanji keeps the PDA to a minimum, and even makes a point to call you by your name more often than he addresses you as “my goddess.” It makes you feel more seen, and definitely more comfortable.

You still want him to hold you most nights. It’s hard to fall asleep without his arms around you after so long getting used to the feeling of him; his love, his protection, his dedication and his breath. And of course, Sanji still indulges you. The great, passionate love he has for you hasn’t gone away- it never will- but the way he shows you affection are more so on your terms now.

Besides: what greater way could there be to show you his love, than by doing everything in his power to make you happy?

[untitled5071]

your drabble of taffy meeting the creature earlier on the film makes me want to see those two being friends. but also taffy realising the creature likes lisa but lisa is too focused on michael to notice. catch her putting some colour on his face and painting his nails. she makes him watch romantic films to give him ideas on how to win lisa over

I'm glad you liked the last one! I have no idea of you meant for this to be a request but I took it as one anyway, please enjoy some Creature/Taffy bonding time!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Okay, the next thing we have to work on is your nails, because no offense, but judging by these cuticles I can absolutely tell that you were in the ground for a century and a half.”

The corpse across from her grunted in indignation, but the effect was skewed by the blush that dusted his cheeks and the fluffy pink scrunchie that was currently holding his hair back. 

Taffy rolled her eyes teasingly and held out her hand, gesturing for the creature to give her his. He complied, and she grabbed the manicure kit she had gotten for Christmas the year before and got to work, pushing his cuticles back gently and cleaning up his nail beds as best she could while her TV announced the next music video it would be playing behind her.

They were sitting on the floor of Taffy’s bedroom; Lisa had gone out for a snack run and left her step sister alone with her secret undead companion, and Taffy hadn’t hesitated to use the opportunity to give the creature in her sister’s closet some much-needed pampering.

 He had protested the idea until Taffy had told him it would make him look more presentable for Lisa, and soon he was reluctantly sitting cross-legged in front of her on her bright teal carpet while Taffy tried and failed to find a foundation shade that matched his pallid skin. 

The process of applying makeup hadn’t lasted long since the creature wanted to remain as natural (unnatural?) as possible, and soon Taffy was taking his hand in hers and applying a base coat of nail polish onto his left hand while he watched curiously. Her TV was tuned into MTV, and she could see Creature stare at it for short bursts at a time before looking away, slightly overwhelmed by the colors, sounds and images he was being exposed to for the first time. 

Taffy hummed along as she fixed up his nails, and when she finished up the left hand she mimed blowing on it and told him to copy her, which he did as she moved onto the right hand, ignoring the stitches as she got started. 

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them; the creature was probably still a little unsure of whether or not he should be hanging around with her; they had a shaky introduction, but he seemed harmless enough to Taffy and she was just happy that someone was around for her sister in a way she herself had never quite been able to despite her best efforts, so he was okay in her book. And Taffy was clearly the family member that Creature had the least amount of disdain towards, so they had formed a tentative friendship, one that Taffy was currently trying to strengthen with this little makeover. 

Deciding to break the silence, she looked up into the corpse’s bewildered eyes and smiled, tearing him away from his staring contest with Billy Idol in the “Rebel Yell” music video.

“Don’t even think about getting bleached, buddy. Blonde would not be a good look for you.”

He grunted again, slightly offended, but she waved him off.

“Let’s rap. When did you first get the hots for Lisa?”

His grunt pitched up in surprise, and he gave her a look that was somehow sheepish, guilty and mortified all at once. 

“Dude, it’s totally obvious. You aren’t subtle AT ALL, I think everyone but Lisa herself can see that you’re totally smitten.”

His cheeks darkened under the artificial blush she had given him, and she nodded sagely. 

“Told you. So, when did it happen? When you got reanimated?”

The creature shook his head and pointed out an arched path with his left hand. 

“Oh, before? When you were still in the ground?”

He nodded, and Taffy whistled, impressed. 

“Damn, that’s some dedicated crush. Who knew grave tending was such a good way to meet guys?”

The creature snorted out a laugh, and Taffy raised a well-plucked eyebrow inquisitively. 

“So when are you going to tell her that you’re head over heels, huh? Frankly I think she should have noticed ages ago, but she’s always needed a bit more help in matters of love than most people and she won’t take my word for it, so you’re probably going to have to do some show and tell before she gets it.”

He hummed distractedly, his blush still very much present as he thought about ways to woo Taffy’s stepsister. She finished up his right hand and took his left again, his brow sill deeply furrowed in thought as she picked up the bottle of black nail polish that she had gotten for the Miss Tristate Teen Halloween pageant and began applying it to his now-dry nails. 

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, you know. If you need any help we can go raid her VHS collection, I know she’s got some rom coms in there that you could get some inspiration from.”

He groaned in agreement, eyebrows still scrunched together. Taffy rolled her eyes fondly at the lovesick, oblivious idiot in front of her. 

“But you know, you probably don’t need much help. She may not realize it yet, but I can tell she’s got feelings for you, too. I don’t have to be an I.P. for that, I just know. I haven’t seen her talk or smile this much since I met her, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s turning heads in the hallway. That’s all you, and I’m sure she’ll realize it eventually. Just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing and practically worshiping the ground she walks on, she’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She switched to his other hand as the creature absorbed her words, and when she looked up he grunted, the words lost but the message clear. 

Thank you. 

She beamed at him. 

“You’re welcome. Just don’t break her heart, or else I’m going to put you back in the ground for good this time, okay?”

She said it brightly, but her eyes were anything but joking. Creature’s own widened in turn and he shook his head vigorously and with complete conviction. Taffy nodded, satisfied. 

“Now hold still or you’re going to mess me up.”

The corpse complied, letting Taffy get back to work. She hummed along to the music video playing behind her, and she was just about to put the finishing touches on his thumb when the front door opened and shut under them, and the sound of combat booted feet trampling up the stairs caught their attention. A few seconds later, Lisa poked her head into Taffy’s bedroom door, arms laden with candy bags and eyes bright. 

“Oh, hey guys! Are you doing makeovers?”

“Yep! Come join us, though I should warn you I require payment for my services in the form of Bottlecaps.”

Lisa smiled and walked into the room, handing the previously mentioned candy to Taffy before plopping down next to her corpse, patting the top of his head before taking a look at the spread of self-care items before them. 

While Lisa was absorbed in her examinations, Taffy absolutely did not miss the absolutely adoring eyes the creature was turning her way, nor the way his longing practically radiated off of him in waves. She grinned, and the corpse looked up and caught her eye. She winked at him and gave him a quick double thumbs-up out of Lisa’s view, and his eyes widened, before he relaxed slightly and gave her a shy, conceding smile. 

The moment was interrupted by Lisa straightening, her hands wrapped around the same bottle of nail polish Taffy had just finished using on the Creature. 

“Oooh, can you do mine? I didn’t even know you had black in your collection and I’m awful at doing my own right hand.”

Taffy smiled, utterly delighted at the idea of helping her sister out with a fresh coat of paint. She stretched out her hand and Lisa took it, fingers spread as she bounced a little. The goth looked over at her undead companion as Taffy began painting, and when she noticed his nails her smile widened. 

“Hey, look at that. We’re gonna match!”

He beamed at her in turn, his devotion lined in every crease of his face, and Lisa scooted slightly closer to him, their thighs pressed together. 

Taffy turned her attention to her work, just barely keeping the smile off of her own face. 

They’ll figure it out. Eventually. 

[hpowellsmith]

Happy birthday, Royal Affairs!

It's been a year since Royal Affairs came out and I've been over the moon about how it's been received. It's meant that I've been able to write full-time, make Honor Bound as rich and detailed at high speed, and do a lot of physical and mental health recovery after various periods of burnout. I'm really grateful for everyone's support, here and elsewhere, and it really makes a huge difference.

I had so much fun returning to the characters after a while away for the epilogue - if you enjoyed the game at release and haven't replayed for the epilogue, I very much recommend giving it a go!

After beta testing, I wrote up a retrospective about what came up and how I organised my work. I thought I'd share it for some insight into my process, for players and authors. Here it is:

In Crème de la Crème I ended up adding large branches to the plot during beta, but I was fortunate not to have to do it this time around. Mostly it was building on what was there or bringing certain things to the forefront, or adding a few different ways of navigating situations.

As feedback came in, I was lucky enough to have so much that it became unwieldy to act on it in one go, so I made a priority list.

Highest priority was game breaking bugs or large continuity problems like Dominique's final game scene switching to Beaumont's.

High priority was smaller continuity bugs like the game confusing who you were romancing or whether you had or hadn't done a particular action earlier.

Medium priority was things like small scene additions or multi romance responses, or tweaking first impressions of characters, and so on.

Low priority was nice-to-haves like allowing a character to be romanced only late on.

Alongside this, I fixed typos and made small adjustments - easy wins that added polished. There were also some major sweeps that I did: a stat test clarity sweep, a stat change sweep, a reduction of tests in casual conversations, and repetitive words or phrases.

Stat test clarity:

I picked 3-4 stat tests at random from each chapter, copied their text into a separate document, and highlighted words that reflected the stats. For example: for Authoritative I had things like "I order them to..." "I tell them what to do", "I stay aloof to maintain my authority..." and so on. I edited testing choices to include these keywords, and also edited the stat guide to include them.

Checking all this had the side effect of helping me spot unnecessary tests or points where the stat being tested just didn't match the situation at hand.

Stat changes:

There are a lot of points where stats can change, and not all of them made sense at the start of beta. I did variations of this sweep several times, including the Action Skills, NPC stats, and adding a lot more chances to boost your Powers of Persuasion. Again doing this check helped me spot unnecessary or unintuitive tests and changes.

Tests in casual conversations:

This was again something that I iterated several times. Some of the commentary about Crème de la Crème said that the stat tests felt punishing or too difficult, and an early playtest from my wife flagged that some of the tests in Royal Affairs felt unfair. Why should a character's relationship reduce when you're trying to be affectionate, if the circumstances aren't in a state where that makes sense?

So I stripped out a lot of this, generally replacing a success/failure with flavour text (such as a Subtle MC perhaps being, well, more subtle about holding hands with someone). In some cases, where a character needs to be drawn out of themselves to talk more emotionally (Beaumont or Hyacinthe, on occasion), or they see the conversation as a contest or challenge in some way (mostly Javi or Trevelyan), I left them in. But I liked that they were a rarity rather than default.

Repetitive words or phrases

As I was writing, sometimes I noticed that I was overusing phrases, so if I got that feeling I would make a note for the sweep. In the end there wasn't as much as that as I thought, but there were a lot of qualifier-type words that reduce the impact of a sentence - "a little" was one, or "really", usually in dialogue - or filler words like "down" in sentences like "you sit down beside them".

I also looked for phrases like "you know" or "you suspect" to spot places where I could express whatever it was that the MC knows more elegantly (this is something a former colleague told me once and I've never forgotten it!)

More involved edits

With some major things that I did change, I'd put them on my to-do list before beta but they were either unwieldy and I wanted to start testing sooner rather than later, or I wanted to check whether other people agreed. It was great to have more opinions and mostly they confirmed what I'd thought. With others, I studied the feedback to gauge whether the effort of making the changes would be worth the payoff. In most cases, I decided to go for it.

In general, this stage involved adding things, including:

more worldbuilding details to give more context to the plot

more teacher interactions throughout; added scenes as well as offhand references to other classes; more about Clemence and Vere and expanded outcomes to their storyline

romanceable characters responding to players romancing other people: in the moment, checking in about where your relationship was at, and a set of final breakup conversations if it was left until the very last minute (this was a very big undertaking and would have been better to do earlier - a lesson I've taken to Honor Bound)

lengthening the main suffrage debate

adding slow-paced romance dynamics for two characters (I was really keen to do this but was disciplined about making it low priority - it was a lovely idea and I knew I'd enjoy doing it, but it was very much a nice-to-have compared to other things. I was delighted to be able to do it!)

more communal scenes with classmates to give more of a sense of living in each other's pockets

adding an option to confide in Asher about a particular plot point and for them to assist with it if wanted (I was so happy about adding this: it's one of my favourite Asher moments, even if few people see it!)

tweaking some of the friendship/romance conversations to add more emotional chat (mostly this applied to Javi and Hyacinthe; there was a bit added to Asher and Dominique at Verdancy)

more pet time

more narrative and conversational responsiveness about whether an imperilled character was romanced

more Javi asexuality chat

more detailed outfit descriptions throughout with more choices about what to wear

generally expanding some scenes to give more breathing room to important moments

In the end I added 45000 words to the game during beta testing, thanks to feedback from editor review, continuity testing, and copyediting. Testing took place during late December 2022 and January 2023, and I massively appreciate everyone who contributed to make this big game as polished as it is!

-

[suzyq31]

Just some casual pining

@jilymicrofics, this just makes the cut at 976 words!

January prompts used: Primal, Apprehensive, Etch

This lightly connects to a few of my other James/Lily stories. Unsure if I'll turn them into a series on archive. Essentially just these two being idiots in love and denial while at school. Also note, this line is very much stolen from When Harry Met Sally.

“What about if they’re attracted to each other?” she asked, apprehension in her tone, and when her eyes met his he nearly swallowed his own tongue.  “Er—” “Or as Sirius put it, that ‘the sex part gets in the way.’”

Thanks to @charmsandtealeaves for looking this over!

Story below the cut 😊

James squinted at the sunlight streaming through the bevelled glass, a light September breeze coming in. Lily had crossed the stone floor within minutes of entering the cramped office earlier, jimmying with the latch on the window, and pressing it open with her upper body, before smiling at him over her shoulder. 

He was already sweating, but his body had only grown warmer at the sight. A year into their friendship and he still wasn’t used to having her smile at him like that, like someone she was glad to see.

They’d quickly gotten to work, both of them still adjusting to their new roles. Lily with far more ease than him. She had a leg up, of course, having been a prefect since fifth year. James found himself playing catch up, learning the patrol schedules, the intricacies of the points systems, and the group dynamics that he was now in charge of. 

Dumbledore had made a good choice the past two years, if he’d had this kind of power earlier, he could only imagine how much more of a nightmare he would have been. He also doubted that Lily would have ever come around to not hating his guts if that were the case.

She was close enough that he could feel her warmth and breathe in the scent of her shampoo, something light and floral that he’d always found pleasing. All at once her green eyes were holding his, and it took him a full second to realise he’d been caught. He stared back down at his parchment, willing himself to think, “Maybe we should switch David and Juliet.”

“Why?”

He lifted his eyes to hers. “Rumour has it they’ve broken up.”

“Oh,” she said, delicate brows furrowing. “That’s too bad.” 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Should I switch them then?”

Lily looked past him, eyes fixed on a far-off point. He followed her gaze towards the fiery sky, the sun giving its best showcase before it would sink behind the green hills. 

“They were such good friends before.”

Her quiet declaration surprised him. 

“Yeah?”

She nodded absently, a hard to read expression etched on her features, voice hushed when she spoke.

“Do you remember what Sirius said?”

“Well, he says a lot of things.”

She rolled her eyes. “He said that men and women couldn’t really be proper friends. He said it about Marlene and Benjy, back in June.”

“Wouldn’t be the first dumb thing he’s said.”

Lily released a delicate little snort. “No…but do you think he’s right?”

“Er—no,” he said, palms suddenly sweating. “He was just taking the piss.”

Out of him. Not that he would add that part. He wiped his palms on his leg which had begun bouncing of its own accord. Lily simply looked at her notes. 

“What about if they’re attracted to each other?” she asked, apprehension in her tone, and when her eyes met his he nearly swallowed his own tongue. 

“Er—”

“Or as Sirius put it, that ‘the sex part gets in the way.’”

His lips parted but no sound came out. His stomach had flipped completely upside down, then rightside up, as if he’d attempted a Wronski Feint 

A smile pulled at her lips, green eyes dancing. Clearly joking, while he was acting like a demented goldfish. 

Finally he cleared his throat. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“I mean a lot of things. If it’s mutual, or one-sided…” He watched her closely and something in her expression shifted. “Are you talking about someone we know, Evans?”

Pink spread across her porcelain cheeks. He’d never outgrown his love of causing her to blush. A strange surge of confidence came to him as he leaned in. 

“So, purely hypothetical?” he added.

She sucked in her bottom lip, nodding. 

For a moment he felt suspended. Like he could tell her anything; like the fact that he was sure that he would always fancy her, even if she never felt the same way. Pathetic really, a truth he did his best to manage. Unwilling to jeopardise her hard-won friendship. 

He forced out a breath.  “I think you can be friends with someone you’re attracted to.”

She tilted her head, hair ablaze in the afternoon sunlight. “You think so?”

“I have it on good authority.”

Lily blinked at him. The pink hue on her face deepened and everything in him screamed to touch her cheek, to see if it was as soft as he imagined. 

His hand fisted where it rested on his leg. The desire burned through him. Being around her had always been like playing with fire; mesmerising, a primal instinct that only she brought out in him. She made the world brighter but with the potential for peril. His heart at risk. 

He stared down at her, the moment suspended. His fingers unclenching, their breathing syncing. He could imagine it so easily, closing the small gap between them, and brushing his lips against hers. 

A loud bang made them both startle, her body tensing before she relaxed back into her seat. The prefects began to trickle in. He was so flustered by the impulse he’d been close to giving into, that he’d nearly forgotten where they were or what they were even doing. 

Lily recovered quickly, standing and greeting the arriving students. He watched her take charge of the meeting. Graceful in her movement, the last bits of sun bathing her in gold. His heart beat erratically in his chest, body too hot in the crowded room. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Sirius or hex him into next week. 

Then Lily turned back, a curious glint in her eyes that sparked him into motion. He took his place beside her, ignoring the gooseflesh that broke out when her arm brushed against his, pushing down how right it felt to be at her side.

[macravishedbymactavish]

hi, can you please do pros and cons of dating captain price?

This was incredibly fun to write, thanks anon!! ❤️

| Blog HQ | MW2 Masterlist | Merrick's Version | Hesh & Logans Version |

3 pros and 3 cons of dating John Price

Pros

He's a planner, especially when it comes to you and your wellbeing

You held back a snort, watching as your boyfriend brought threw his bag into the backseat before getting in himself.

Softly sighing under your gaze he mindlessly mumbled "just say it, already" as he started driving.

"You remembered your purse, I see" you chuckled, finding it forever amusing that he always had his backpack when the two of you would go out.

Your amusement was cut short later that day when the weather took a turn and the wind picked up. Crossing your arms over your chest, grumbling about how John always seemed to be warm no matter the situation; you missed him sliding the bag off his one shoulder.

"Here" he simply stated, holding out a sweater for you to put on. "Low chance of showers today, but thought I'd bring sweaters just in case"

He is the king of home DIY. You want anything upgraded, fixed or built? He's got this.

"Hey, so I was thinking" you started one afternoon, leaning against the door of your shared bathroom. Explaining to your boyfriend the shelf idea you had seen on your phone a few hours earlier.

"Let me finish showering and we can go to the shop to buy supplies"

He always offers you a drink or snack whenever he gets up to grab one for himself. Sometimes brings you one back anyway (even if you said no)

"I'm going to grab something to drink, would you want anything?" He pointed toward the kitchen as he stood from the couch.

Cons

Totally does the "I was not asleep" thing when he was 100% asleep. Will fight to the end of his life that he was not sleeping

"Wake up, John" you whispered, nudging his arm. You came home to find your boyfriend laying on the couch asleep, controller on the floor.

Giving you a small groan, before shifting closer into the cushions he mumbled: " 'm awake"

Rolling your eyes, you opted against arguing that he was sound asleep not even a second ago. Shoving his legs back, you sat on the couch with him. Hand running over his bicep as he slowly woke up, stretching his shoulders as he explained that he was wide awake that entire time.

Gossips like a little old lady. Usually in public when he runs into someone he knows.

You stood awkwardly off to the side, shifting your weight between the heels and balls of your feet. John had been chatting with an old colleague of his in a random isle of the shop for at least 15 minutes.

While they were deep in conversation, you had excused yourself to not only finish the grocery shopping as planned, but also pay for and load said groceries into the vehicle. Only to come back to the isle to find they hadn't moved more than an inch.

"I should let the two of you get back to your shopping. We should meet up for a pint sometime though" his friend smiled, patting his shoulder before bidding you a polite goodbye.

"Sorry love, now what do we need to buy from here?" John smiled at you, eyebrow raising when you gave him an amused expression in return. Grabbing his hand, leading him out of the store as he slowly realized just how long he had been visiting for.

Has unconsciously used his work voice during some of your more heated arguments

Not that he ever means to, as with most people work stays at work. Home stays at home. We don't blur the lines.

Except the rare nights where emotions are high, words are escaping both your lips before your brains can process them.

"Are. We. Clear?" He enunciated, voice firm as he stared down at you. Irises hidden behind his pupils as his jaw locked.

Equally as angry, you simply spat: "Yes, Captain" before turning on your heel to go cool off.

There were many apologies shared the next morning when you both calmed down.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco

[gooseloverfiction]

Theory

Lars Lindstrom x f!reader

Wordcount: 1,775

Summary: Lars working on his theory about touch, less than more.

A/N: A humble contribution to the wonderful RG B-day! And to lovely Lars fandom.

Content Warnings: none, just some fluff

It was late summer, you had just moved to your grandparents' house to help them. The town's community was wonderfully welcoming, but even you needed a moment of respite. You chose to walk by the lake that day.

Lars sat on a gentle slope leading to the water. From afar, he heard noise. A girl in a yellow dress and knee-high rubbers approached, Walkman headphones on her ears. Her high, sometimes squeaky voice carried far. It seemed she was too engrossed in music and gazing at the sky to notice where she was going. Straight into the reeds where shore abruptly ended, straight into water. Lars stood up, heading toward the girl, seeing her eyes being closed. He shouted, trying to get her attention. Too late.

One step, and you were already waist-deep in the water, quickly losing balance. Swiftly, you emerged onto the shore, glancing at the man standing nearby, nervously smoothing his dirty blond hair. His slightly reddened lips under the mustache puffed as if he had been holding his breath until now.

"Oi! Why didn't you shout earlier?" your voice, though loud, broke into suppressed laughter.

Seeing your dress covered in duckweed, you quickly reached for your belt. Attached to it, the Walkman was full of water.

"Damn..."

You took off your rubbers and poured out the water.

“Well, at least I won’t have to shower today…” you joked and with the boots under your arm, you extended your hand to the man who nervously fidgeted, perhaps deciding whether to leave the lunatic who fell into the lake of her own accord. You wouldn't blame him for that. You introduced yourself, and he, with some reservation, extended his hand, hidden under a long sleeve, exchanging a handshake with fabric between your skins.

"Lars."

He pointed in some unspecified direction and finally spoke.

"My brother's house is nearby, you can ask for a towel. Karin will surely lend you something to wear."

For a moment, you hesitate. You should go back home, but now, soaked to the bone in dripping clothes, it feels so far away. And suddenly, it stopped being warm and sunny.

In the house Lars brought you to, his sister-in-law Karin and an enthusiastic one-year-old awaited. The hostess seemed deeply shocked upon seeing her brother-in-law with you at the doorstep. She let you in quickly and wordlessly rushed for a towel. Lars started talking to the child, introducing you both. He looked adorable with the little one in his arms, the kid tracing the outline of his mustache with a tiny finger. Before Karin could return, calling something from the depths of the house, Lars putted down his nephew and took the player from your hands, promising to fix it and return it to you when he was in town and managed to stop by the café where you started working. He vanished before his sister-in-law returned.

Lars didn't bring back your Walkman a week later, but he came to apologize for not having fixed it yet. Weeks passed this way. The man would drop by once a week, and you used his visits as an opportunity to take a break and talk with him. You heard various things about him from your colleagues. Everyone spoke warmly of him, even if some comments expressed surprise at his aversion to touch or any close bond with another person. Then there was that one story about Bianca, a doll-sized human-like figure, Lars's ex-girlfriend. At first, you thought they were making it up, trying to play a joke on you. But one day, as you were closing the café and wiping down the table under a wall covered in various photos, you noticed one that hadn't caught your attention before. A woman in a wheelchair, not entirely resembling a real woman. Bianca...

You pondered that story for a while. You observed that Lars was talking to you in a more open manner, sharing details about work, his nephew, and Margo's new boyfriend. About Karin's ideas for renovating their house. When he wanted to share, Lars conveyed enthusiasm. Any thought about Bianca, which had been lingering in your mind for the past few days, quickly gave way to the growing affection for this lovely, usually quiet man.

————————————————————————

Lars waited in the same place where you first encountered him…

Although winter was still a bit away, both of you were dressed in several layers. Well, Lars might have had three more of them, you weren’t sure. In his hands, hidden in gloves, he held your Walkman. In your pocket, there was a cassette with your favorite compilation of old songs.

Of course, Lars would never admit that your device had been fixed long ago. He buried himself in excuses more and more, noticing how easy it was for him to talk to you. And even though you didn't know him well, after the first time your arms brushed and he admitted he wasn't a fan of physical contact, you respected that without a hint of surprise. And even when, under the influence of emotions, your hand shot toward him, it quickly returned to your side. He liked you for that even more. You weren’t throwing yourself at him.

But lately, Lars had been wondering if maybe it would be different with you. Perhaps your touch wouldn't burn him? After nearly two weeks of pondering, he decided to test it. However, he needed special conditions for that. The only conceivable reason in his imagination for you to meet without anyone around was your Walkman.

"Hey!" Your smile immediately felt like a beacon that warmed his face.

"Hi" he knew his voice was probably too quiet, but he still wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. "Would you like to go somewhere?" he asked, simultaneously handing you a single flower, which he pulled out of the bouquet intended for the hospital. Of course, with Mrs. Gruner's permission.

"Oh, thank you. Sure, Lars," you smiled, putting your nose into the petals. You tucked the player into your coat pocket.

You tried to keep a bit of distance from Lars, but every now and then, he took a step closer to you, eventually walking just a few inches away.

After some time, you found yourselves in the woods, near a small treehouse. Or rather, what was left of it. A platform around a tree, a hanging rope on one side, and a few ladder steps nailed to the trunk. Lars smiled seeing your enthusiasm, even if you didn't know that this house used to look much better.

"Can I?" you asked, reaching for the first step. Lars nodded, biting his lip. It was about to happen. He would test his theory on you.

At the top, he took off his jacket and laid it down so you could sit comfortably, but you grabbed it and pushed it back into his hands.

"You'll freeze!"

Lars just smiled and pointed to his sweater and the collar sticking out from underneath.

"It's not that cold, and besides, I've got layers, remember?"

You looked at him, contemplating his words for a moment, and nodded, watching as he spread the jacket on the planks. You lay on your back, legs resting on the trunk, shaking off mud and snow from your shoes before you did it. Lars smiled and did the same, your boots touching. He moved close enough that he almost touched your shoulder. You took the Walkman from your pocket, inserted the cassette, and rewound it to the first song. You placed the headphones on your shoulders and set the volume as loud as it could go, pressing "PLAY."

L is for the way you look at me,

O is for the only one I see,

V is very, very extraordinary,

E is even more than anyone that you adore...

You knew your voice wasn't suitable for singing, but nothing could stop you from harmonizing with your grandparents' favorite song. After a while, you felt that your left foot wasn't hitting the heavy boot of Lars. You opened your eyes. The headphones barely clung to your shoulder, and Lars now sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. You stopped the song and sat down. At the last moment, your hand froze over his shoulder as he wiped his eye.

"Lars, what happened?"

"N-nothing. It's just... that was our song, mine and Bianca's." Lars took a deep breath and exhaled, looking up. Over a year had passed, yet he still felt the sorrow. Quickly, you stowed the player away, uncertain if you should leave him alone. Especially since all you could think about now was how much you wanted to hug him.

"Sorry, I didn't know..." you started, slowly pulling away to stand or maybe sit.

Lars grabbed your hand before your mind chose any option. Looking into his blue, sad eyes, still slightly moist, you stopped thinking rationally. You reached with your hand to his cheek, wanting to wipe away the wet trace. You hesitated at the last moment, but Lars grabbed your glove and slid it off your hand.

"Could you maybe... try this? Or can I..." you weren't sure what he wanted, but you nodded. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cheek covered in a few days' stubble. He mentally prepared for the burning pain. But when your skin connected, he only felt tingling. The tingling of a warm hand on his cold face. And something else, but pleasant. It was much easier when he had control over someone's touch. There was one more thing to check. Lars let go of your other hand, which he subconsciously held the whole time.

"You can do it yourself," he tried to convince himself rather, you thought. You smiled cautiously and with your other hand, joined the first, on the other side of his face. Through the material of your glove, blissful warmth seeped. Holding your breath, you moved the first hand, tracing the curve of his nose, his eyebrows, and forehead. Lars kept looking into your eyes all the time, trying to remember to breathe.

"Are you okay, Lars?" you asked, trying not to get closer than necessary. "Should I stop?"

"No, please," you felt his shoulders drop with another breath, and his whole body finally relaxed.

"You're beautiful," you mumbled, and Lars giggled, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You wanted to kiss his eyelids. His sweet nose. And his lips, which he now bit and licked. Maybe someday you would be able to.

————————————————————————

You walked towards the Lindstroms' house. Lars insisted on driving you home.

His hand was warm in yours.

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 10 - Illusión De Amor

prev - chapter 1

"Hosah, hey," A familiar, grating voice pounded at his ears as he was shaken awake.

God, what time is it? Disoriented and disgruntled, the shifter lifted his head from his folded arms, having being laid face-first on the desk, rubbing his eyes for a clearer view.

Ew, what the hell was Scotty doing here?

"Ugh.." He groaned, "..What? What are you doing here?" Hosah struggled to get his words out through a yawn.

The security guard just laughed at him as he usually did, except this time with a lot less venom, "It's ten o' clock. You could've clocked out four hours ago. Don't get paid for overtime here, you know."

"Shit, where's Teddy?"

"Who?"

Right, "Edward, sorry. Where's Edward?"

Instead of giving an answer, Scotty just pointed toward the single illuminated room down the hall, the staff room. Through the glare in his glasses, Hosah caught a peak of his own reflection. Gross. The kind of face only a good nights sleep would fix.

"You should go on and get home now," the unusually nice man dragged his feet as he walked away, "Shifter Slaughterers come out at this time of night." Oh, there's the Scotty he knew all too well, he was beginning think that the security guard had been replaced by some sort of evil clone, the polar opposite of his true self. Hosah couldn't help but scoff at the term. Nice alliteration, but still sounds kind of bad on the ears.

Watching as his coworker slinked off into the cramped security office, which he was sure was just a refurbished utility closet, the shifter got up to stretch. Now really was the perfect time to get back home, not only was his ass numb from the cheap chairs Jules' gave them, but he'd also kept his assistant waiting for god knows how long. So long in fact, that it was already pitch black out.

One good thing about the office was its location. Right in the heart of the city. The shifter stared out of the window, eyes transfixed on all the little lights scattered across the street view. It was almost as illuminating as the sun during the day, as the night awoke and the paths became even busier than ever on the Friday night, ready to experience the thrilling night-life the Big Apple had to offer.

That wasn't the life for the detective. At least, not anymore it wasn't. Sleepily stumbling all the way, Hosah travelled towards the staff room where Teddy was implied to be, and sure enough, there he stood, coffee mug in hand.

The taller of the two's face seemed to light up as he walked in, "You're awake."

"Yeah, why didn't you just get me up earlier, how long have you been waiting for me?"

"Seemed like you needed the sleep, didn't want to disturb you." The kindness Teddy had shown towards the shifter sort of put him at unease, an inkling that there must be something the man was looking to gain from their friendship, although upon close inspection, Hosah found nothing of value he could be manipulated into offering.

"Right," His eyes adverted down to his feet, leaning against the door frame to support his heavy body, "I need to go to bed."

Despite wanting to say 'Yeah, you look like you do,' , Teddy refrained, instead leading his partner in crime out of the building, holding onto the oversized coat sleeve that hung from his skeletal body all the while. Upon living with the seasoned detective, he realised maybe his tired look wasn't actually due to poor sleep schedule after all, and with the recent discovery of his poor health, it seemed to just be a more sunken face situation.

The way Hosah's skin clung to his bones was always concerning, his cheekbones and jaw so sharp it looked like they'd rip straight through his flesh at any given moment, and seeing him in full without the cloak that was his work outfit definitely cemented that worry. He could see exactly where Doctor White was coming from with his theory, but didn't want to outright say that to avoid offending the malnourished man. Teddy had studied psychology for four years at university level, and only god knows for how long he'd read about it during his days at boarding school, so he considered himself an expert on how to approach and communicate with his new friend.

To be honest, as the two weaved through the busy night-life of the city, Teddy realised that was probably one of his flaws. He didn't see any of his relationships in a normal way, he saw it more as a dissection of the other person's mind, being able to tell what they're thinking and how they're feeling just from a slight glint in their eye. That was the beauty of being in a close relationship with someone. The scholar was usually very good at this, reading people's minds after a mere handful of interactions, but Hosah was very different.

It was just as the note put it, he was hot and cold, contradictory, totally unpredictable, a textbook gemini. He felt sort of bad for thinking of him in such a way, but, to the rookie detective, Hosah was sort of like a wild dog he'd embarked on taming. At first, he bit and he argued, he was cold and said very little, but as the days passed and they spent almost every second in each others company, he quite literally felt them both warming up to each other, as the shifter now willingly sat, perched in his palm, leaning into any sort of touch he was given. It was extremely cute, admittedly.

The previous weekday, although painful and possibly traumatic for the shifter, was an extreme advancement in their relationship, and Teddy couldn't help but smile when thinking back on it. He felt proud of himself as he stared down at the impossibly tiny figure beneath him on that pillow, in that moment, Hosah was no longer the scruffy stray he was when they'd first met, he was now a well-groomed house pet, almost as if he'd never been wild at all. The only thing the giant could think in that moment was 'Look at you, all domesticated now,'. That was probably an extremely unsavoury way to put it, but it was the most obvious comparison Teddy could think of to his situation.

He'd done this before many times, in terms of actual animals at least, remembering his days on the farm during the summer when stray cats would wander out of the nearest village- about four miles away, all cold and hungry, bare bones and in need of a little love to make them all better again. Maybe a cat was actually a more accurate comparison to make in regards of Hosah, still feisty, some interpreting his clear setting of boundaries as being mean or rude, but with all the ability to love and play just like that of a puppy.

As he actually sat and thought about it, the assistant felt a rush of guilt, looking to the figure sat at his side on the late night subway ride home. The shifter leant on his shoulder like he did with the door frame, eyes barely open. He really was very pretty like this, even the yellow luminescent glow of the train suited him, made him look less jaundiced by comparison. With his eyes closed, Teddy could get a proper look at his long, wispy eyelashes that usually weren't visible due to how straight they were. Very, very pretty indeed. He felt guilty for being so pitiful of the shifter. Objectively, it was understood that Hosah was a grown man with his own set of thoughts, beliefs, dreams, values, wishes, all the sort of things that made one human, which is probably why Teddy felt so bad in the first place.

He'd never really felt human himself. Teddy recalled being in the food hall during his childhood, every other boy with his eyes closed saying their graces, as he sat, wide eyed with nothing to say in regard to his meal. Maybe it was due to personal experiences, but it always confused him, why he was expected to thank god for the meal. Why not the farmers who harvested the ingredients, or the chef that prepared it? Sure, God might've put the animals there to begin with, but they were created to live, no? Sitting in that hall, the only one not following orders, was what made Teddy realise he probably was not normal. He was supposed to be god fearing , obedient without question, but his mind couldn't help but doubt what he was taught to be fact.

Although he really didn't want to admit it, all Teddy wanted to do was to show the shifter the same sort of love he did to the lost kittens that wandered onto his grandparents farm, but that was one thing his time studying the catholic bible had taught him not to engage in. Despite questioning almost every other teaching he was given, this was one that always stumped him. Thinking of Hosah in such a way made him feel like some sort of predator.

He'd watched before how the farm cats would sit and stalk the little field mice, approaching very slowly, their moves so meticulous, so calculated. That's sort of how he found himself behaving in regards to the shifter. Overthinking every word he said to make sure it only had a positive effect on their relationship, buttering him up and throwing in 'You're right'-s even when Teddy knew the man was so blatantly wrong. Just the thought of turning that into love felt completely wrong. Not that he didn't want to, the feelings were definitely there and definitely grew stronger and more persistent as the days went on, but he'd learnt these kinds of feelings should be reserved for women, and women only.

Teddy would feel totally improper entering a vulnerable persons life, having them depend on him in such literal and small, personal ways, and then asking for romance. Although he'd heard a rumour or two about Hosah's love life through the grapevine, it all sounded so vulgar, so harsh, and it more made him feel extremely bad for the shifter rather that disgusted with him. That kind of disgust he saved for himself. It was clear there was some kind of underlying problem or event that dictated Hosah's life, but it would be far too forward to confront him about it, so instead he waited with intense focus, lurking with a fixed gaze until he opened up on his own terms.

He desperately didn't want to be like those who had previously hurt the shifter, despite not even knowing if that assumption was true or not, and it would eat at him from the inside out to know he was capitalising from Hosah's misfortune to receive the kind of sick love he'd always longed for. Teddy knew it wasn't wrong to seek love, but it proved to be increasingly difficult to break out of old habits and thought processes.

Looking down at the sleepy face before him, Teddy wondered how anyone could have such hatred toward the shifter. The stalker had the general understanding of Hosah as an individual, a human being, but still despised him just for his unlucky pick at the genetic lottery. As far as he was aware, the shifter generally hadn't done much to harm others, besides being a little rude from time to time. Why anyone would come up with the conclusion that the man was a vermin to the people surrounding him puzzled Teddy greatly.

Actually, no, third times a charm, Hosah was most like a mouse. His only crime being his size, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's how Teddy felt towards all fifteen of those people they found that day. How people could be so cruel to those who, below the surface level, were the same as everyone else in the world. His job continuously hurt his heart, feeling repeatedly crushed with every day that passes, every little tidbit of new information being gathered, which is exactly why he stayed. Hosah was now a target, and he would do all he could to free the shifter from the glue trap he found himself stuck in.

"Are we almost home?" The sleepy voice was so quiet, muffled by the coat Hosah's face was pressed against.

Snapping back into reality, awakening from the depths of this own brain, Teddy reassured the heavy-eyed man whose head lay against his shoulder, "I thought you fell asleep for a second there. Not much longer now,"

Raising his arm, Teddy wrapped it around the shifters shoulder, pulling him in closer, the blond head now resting in the cavity of his shoulder between that and his chest. It didn't matter if the other commuters looked at them, shit, this was New York, people could have psychotic episodes on the tube and it'd just be another mundane Monday.

The ringing of his phone forced the assistant to shift his position, forcing Hosah to hold himself up without support. The number wasn't saved in his phone, weird.

Reluctantly, Teddy answered the call, "Hello?"

Luckily, the crazed killer had not in fact found his phone number, instead, it was far worse, "Edward? I went back an hour or so before I clocked in, there was some dude peering in the windows about.. I don't know, twenty minutes before I got there?" Scotty's voice was just as annoying when muffled through the flip phone's poor audio quality.

For fucks sake. "Think it's the same person who left the package?"

"I mean, yeah, who else would it be? Fucking idiot though, lights were off downstairs, and you guys are on the third floor. Anyway, just thought you should know. Maybe bring a gun on your way to work tomorrow or something."

Despite the clear sarcasm in Scotty's voice, that last part sounded quite serious.

Before being forced to endure chatting with the unpleasant security guard for any longer, Teddy hung up the phone, wondering if the shifter had overheard any of the conversation.

"I have a gun in my apartment, it's in a safe in the closet with all my painting stuff." Hosah clarified. The assistant couldn't picture him with such a weapon, but maybe that's just because he'd painted the man as something so delicate, so fragile, something that could only ever be hurt, and never the other way around.

The shifter continued, his big, brown eyes looking up at Teddy's face all innocently, "Can pick up a my paints and a canvas when we drop by for it, then I can return the favour you asked of me."

Ah, that's right, Hosah's art was truly beautiful, nothing outwardly unique or preposterous, in fact it was all quite close to still life, except the way he blended the paints in such a fuzzy, soft way gave all the pieces the same sort of quality you'd have looking back at old childhood memories in your mind at night, some details straight up missing, the faces of adults blurred as you've forgotten their features over time, barely able to see them as they were so far away from your pre-developed body.

Despite the fact that Hosah was probably horrified with the information that was relayed over the phone call, his assistant couldn't help but smile. Hosah would be making a painting for him. He almost felt guilty for feeling happy in this moment, but then he remembered the fact and that sort of childish excitement Teddy hadn't felt in years came rushing back. Too ecstatic for words, Teddy just nodded, agreeing to go back to the previously broken into apartment to collect the shifters things.

"Are you not worried to go back there?" He enquired, the absolute need to understand the shifter and his thought process possessing his speech.

Instead of any kind of logical, satisfactory answer, Hosah shrugged, "It's kind of the least of my worries right now. People can be arrested, detained, they can lose interest. But all of my internal problems need to be solved by myself, and I need the will power to solve them. That's way more scary. That I just won't have it in me to fix myself."

Although it was certainly stupid in terms of regards to his physical safety and wellbeing, Hosah was right. He said the most insightful things when he was tired.

-~-

It felt like it had been years since the pair were sat in Jules' office, but in reality it had been three weeks at most.

This time around, they could keep each other entertained with their casual banter whilst waiting for the ruthless woman to assign them to a new task. Something still related to the overall mystery, but more detached from the main objective. Not only would it be better in terms of keeping Hosah safe, it would also he more accurate to what he had been hired to do.

During his time living at a hospital-esque sleep away school, Hosah had learnt he was quite the good mediator. Quite literally shrinking down to his peers height, getting their version of events to a T, being a source of both comfort and logic for the troubled individuals, it was something he actually quite enjoyed. As someone who greatly enjoyed knowing about the drama going on around the so-called school, and also as someone who was a big fan of being regarded as the hero who saves the day, the one able to solve everyone's conflict. That was probably why Jules came back to butt-fuck-nowhere-town Colorado to recruit him.

Finally, maybe twenty minutes after being informed she had business for the two to attend to, Jules arrived, looking as breathtaking as ever. Even in the business casual black button down blouse and knee length pencil skirt, the woman looked completely out of this world. She could wear a raw rotisserie chicken, and all the high fashion brands would probably make a trend out of it.

"We got a call earlier ago," Jules had a concerning smile plastered onto her annoyingly perfect face as she took her seat, "Same old same old, that bakery's had their roof torn off again."

"Ughhhhh. Okay. Yeah we'll go right there." Hosah brushed his fingers through his hair, sick of this same scenario happening monthly.

Teddy on the other hand had not yet been on the bakery bandit's case, and just his face alone was enough to know that.

"What- What do you mean they've had the roof torn off?" For lack of a better word, he was flabbergasted.

The shifter waved him off as if to say 'Don't worry about it' , but Teddy was most certainly worrying about it.

"Happens all the time. Shifter grows to like , eighty feet, something like that, goes for the roof and takes their goods. Not for themself, probably, never takes all of it, just a few things." Hosah was laughing, despite his assistant's visible concern, "I kind of don't ever want to catch the guy, gotten to be quite fond of them with all the times they've done it. Seems innocent enough, just fucking annoying. This is where my taxes are going. Fixing their stupid roof. At this point it'd be cheaper to just move location."

Teddy wasn't really paying attention to the shifter's debriefing, more-so focused on the absurdity of the scenario the shifter seemed so casual about.

When they arrived, the detectives had to fight their way through the crowd of onlookers and news reporters just to get in the door and talk to the cashier. Hosah didn't understand why everyone was so fussed, this thing was a regular occurrence nowadays.

It was a sweet little cafe-bakery fusion, and when it got refurbished as it did so often, it was a real hidden gem. The walls were a soft, pastel pink, although they were now covered in dust and dirt from the rubble that had come down from the moved roof, and the decor had a very similar colour palette, with cute little flower shaped pillows on all of the painted wooden chairs, pretty lace serving as table cloths, although they'd probably have to get replacements for them now as they were dirtied beyond repair. Such a shame, Hosah would've quite liked to frequent the place if the not-so-desirable visits didn't happen so often.

The young girl behind the register looked absolutely disheveled. The shifter didn't recognise her, so he assumed she was probably a new hire. Unlucky. It wasn't unusual for the bakery's staff to quit after their first encounter with the giant, who seemed to love terrorising this specific location for no apparent reason at all.

Shifters that could grow instead of shrink weren't exactly unheard of, they just had to take extra precautions in regards to their height changes. Usually, if you have the fact stated in any of your records, the military's special forces will get straight into contact, which is where most of them ended up going. Despite wanting to understand the fear everyone felt regarding the situation at hand, Hosah just couldn't, he was far too used to being tiny, being surrounded by more giants than anyone in the vicinity could probably even comprehend.

"So. Back at it again huh." Hosah leant against the rubble covered counter top, seeing what goods the delinquent had left behind in the glass case beneath him.

The girl sniffled as she nodded, "I was-, I was warned about it, but... I need the money..."

Her name badge read Yojeong, Hosah recalled it meant 'fairy' in his mother's native language, a very cute name indeed. Yojeong's hime-cut hung loose from her short ponytail, shielding her reddened, tear streaked face. Poor kid. The shifter himself knew just how scary it was to be tiny, he couldn't imagine what it would be like for the girl, with no prior experience or exposure to that sort of horror.

"Not hurt or anything, right?" This was never the case, but it was always best to clarify before assuming.

Still, with her head hung low, she shook 'No', as expected. Although, after Hosah's sigh of boredom as he prepared to hand the girl a paper to fill out giving a statement, she seemed to have remembered something,

"He- He didn't even like... take anything, he just gave me an order and asked for it to go. So.. I don't know if I should've done, but I just bagged it up for him, and he reached down and took it."

"If he didn't pay, then he took it."

"No, no, I mean he wasn't- he wasn't forceful at all! It was so weird, he was so casual about it, like he wasn't even doing anything wrong!" The girl now had her head raised to look up at the seasoned detective, something he couldn't say happened very often, given his lack of height even when it's at its maximum capacity.

Although he did feel bad that Yojeong was in such distress, visibly shaking as she recalled the interaction through frantic stutters, it wasn't anything new to the detective.

Hosah had heard the same story about a hundred times. Handing the girl a witness form to fill out, the shifter was about to go on his merry way, until a figure he swore he recognised walked in through the front door, the little shop bell jingling sweetly as if nothing had happened at all.

Thierri!

Ah, everyone's favourite unnecessarily tall detective. Actually, the man was barely a detective at all, he was hired to do petty tasks like coffee runs and such, but just kind of inserted himself into cases nowadays. Supposed to help Jeanne out with things, but the guy was such a klutz, the shifter wasn't too sure how exactly he'd be of any benefit to the well experienced Detective Alice.

That didn't matter though, Thierri had this amazing, mind boggling personality that just made him so charming and fun to be around. Hosah had no idea why his coworker seemed to cold towards the man, he was a sweetheart! The only way the shifter knew to describe him was 'excitable puppy that knows no physical boundaries' , but that wasn't necessarily as bad of a thing as it sounded on paper.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Hosah beamed, not even noticing how the young cashier had slinked away into the kitchen.

Thierri shrugged casually, "Maternity leave."

The information just shared was most certainly not deserving of the man's nonchalant attitude.

"Oh, shit, congratulations?" The shifter's assistant held his hand out to shake Thierri's, but instead, the man continued speaking as if Teddy had said nothing at all.

"Yeah, she's a Pomeranian, got her from the shelter last week. Her names CCP."

Oh. Of course, how could the shifter be so stupid. It was no surprise his coworker had used the phrase 'maternity leave' totally wrong, he should've just known upon hearing the phrase come out of his mouth. It wasn't the first time Teddy had his mind blown today too, but the shifter knew this was classic Thierri behaviour.

Almost choking in disbelief, the assistant asked, just for clarification, "...You named your dog after the Chinese Communist Party?"

Instead of a normal reaction, Thierri scoffed as if it was the most unreasonable assumption to make after hearing the acronym, "No, it stands for Captain Cream Puff, duh."

Right, obviously, how foolish of him to assume otherwise.

"You know what we should do? Let's call Jeanne up and get lunch together, you haven't properly met Edward, have you?" Hosah inquired, although the two coworkers in front of him didn't seem too keen on the idea.

"No, you're right, I haven't been introduced yet.. which is whyyyy... we should maybe go out just us three? Right, Edward?"

Instead of taking his superior's side as he usually did, Teddy nodded in agreement. What the fuck was going on? Hosah didn't think the awkward air between them all and Jeanne was that bad, was it? What kind of beef did the two have with him?

Wanting to get to the bottom of the mysterious air of tension between all of the detectives, the shifter took the decision into his own hands.

"I'm calling Jeanne anyway. If he declines, he declines. I'm not gonna be rude and not even invite him." Hosah had already pulled out his phone by now, there was no turning back.

Also, he wanted to debrief the last couple days to everyone at once, feeling it was necessary to air out his current situation given the gravity of it all.

This was going to be fun. Or at least, that's what the shifter hoped it would be.

[daisiesanddaffodils3]

Willow Maid (Yandere!Daemon x Reader) p.2

Author’s Note: So I had the idea on what a sequel would look like but was worried no one wanted it, however one person asked for it and I was like ‘You drive a hard bargain but yes’. Really sorry these are quite short, but there will be more.

Synopsis: Daemon has just taken you back to the dragon’s nest that is KIngslanding

Warning: Threats of violence, Daemon is his own warning, toxic relationships, normal yandere warnings.

The residents felt nervous as they saw Caraxes land within the pits, Prince Daemon had gotten somehow more aggressive since his first tryst through the woods. Some of them were sure he was cursed by that dark place. So when they saw him return with a small slip of a girl they didn't know what to think of this ash covered thing. Her beautiful e/c were dull and distance, she neither leant towards the prince or away, she was like a doll.  Servants saw him dismount his dragon before turning to his companion and gently lifting her off as Caraxes helped by bowing down. Once she was on her feet he took her hand and led her towards the castle, were she not so dazed she might notice the bewildered look of all those around her. Their mutual thought - who is this strange woman the prince holds so softly. Once inside the Red Keep, Daemon waves down some faceless servant: "Wash her, fix her hair and dress her in something worthy of a Targaryan". His voice rung with clear order, so the servant bowed and went to take the girl's arm when she noticed the sudden sharp look the prince donned. Fearing of what may happen should she touch the girl, she stepped back and raised an arm to guide her. After a slight nudge from the prince, the girl numbly followed the servant. It didn't take much to deduce what happened to her. Her whole family had served the Targaryans for many a year, and their obsessive ways were renowned. In a way she pitied the girl, but like a dragon coverts their hoard, so does a Targaryan their lover. She'll never want for anything, the servant thought bitterly. A hot bath was prepared within Daemon’s chamber, the tub was made from pure copper and unlike many other baths was lifted from the floor by four legs, perfect amount of room to allow candles to be lit under it. She stripped the girl down careful not to look or touch too much, even in one’s private chamber the walls in Kingslanding has both eyes and ears. Best not awake the dragon, so to say. 

Guided into the bath, she took a sponge and worked to remove the grime, all the while the girl blindly stared forward. The silence made the servant feel uncomfortable, but she reasoned had she just watched her home burn, she wouldn’t be feeling very talkative. It got to the point where all visible dirt was removed but where she laid in the tub covered up the burnt hair she must cut and the remaining ash on her back. Shyly she prompted "I'm sorry Lady... um". Where silence lingered for a second. "Y/n" the girl's melodic voice rang out "I was called y/n once". In the isolation of the forest she had needed no name. "Lady y/n" she smiled, "could you lean forward for me" and was wordlessly obeyed. They continued in silence, she felt bad for having cut such beautiful h/c hair, nonetheless the Maiden still looked ethereal. Once finished she was dried and placed in a simple black dress made of silk. They would have to measure her for more extravagant dresses. The maid admired her, it was no wonder how she caught the prince's eye. Speaking of whom she knew it was best to go retrieve him, leaving y/n sitting on his bed. She found him in the dragon pits, stroking Caraxes deep in thought. As she approached he asked "How is she?". "She's been washed and dressed, I found a dress in her size but she'll need to be measured, Your Grace" he nodded silently, nonchalant. She continued "I left Lady y/n awaiting you in your chambers". And like that, the pit went cold, his hand stopped stroking Caraxes, it was that same feeling as earlier but worse. By the Nine, what had she done wrong? Was she not meant to leave her there? Was it because she left her alone? Did he think she would run away?

“What did you call her?” His words were short and clear, she could see his tense jaw and even a vein in his neck pushed to the surface. 

“A thousand apologies Your Grace, I did not mean to insult you!” She still didn’t know what she’d done but that’s of little importance, Prince Daemon was known for his fiery temper and she’d hoped to never be on the receiving end.

“Her name.” Each word was more tense than the last, at this point Caraxes sensing his master’s started beating his tail on the ground, growling, attempting to move towards the one who upset him.

She fell to her knees, hands together in a silent prayer. “L-Lady y/n, Your Grace” Tears rolled down her face as she watched his stiff nod, not once had he looked at her. He began to stalk towards the Red Keep, and now without the Prince between her and his dragon, Caraxes began to stalk forwards. “Please My Lord have mercy!” rung out around the pit as Daemon continued to walk away.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Spencer when someone's being rude to you

"Detective, do you have the files we mentioned earlier? I have some free time now I could go through them." You asked while looking over some cold case files that were spread across the table in front of you.

"No, I've been trying to do everything else you lot have me doing. I can't be in five places at once you know." He snapped.

Trying not to physicall recoil, you turned to face the grumpy man. Looking up at him, he had a file in his grip, crumpling the edges. Clearly you'd picked the wrong moment to ask.

Not willing to let the rude detective get away with being shitty, "It's not our fault this unit is incapable of working as a team. It's your responisibility to delgate the tasks to them. We're all being worked off our feet here and you can't complain when you signed yourself up for the overtime."

He looked taken back by your answer, pausing for a moment, he slammed down the file he had in his hand. Which got the attention of a few of your team mates in the next office. Successfully making you jump too. Glancing over, you saw Garcia and Spencer staring in. Locking eyes with Spencer he mouthed 'you okay' to you and you nodded. Confident you could deal with the idiot yourself.

"Let me get something straight. The chief asked for your help on this, but I told them I didn't want to be lumped in with the desk jobs. I've put up with this for the last few days. But this is ridicuous, so you can shove your menial requests up your ass and do some goddamn work for yourself." He picked up the file he threw down and flung it over the desk towards you.

Your hand shot out to catch the paper, and found yourself trying to hold back from losing it with him.

"Detective, we're all working our asses off here. If you can't handle the workload, you should go home."

Seemingly hitting his last nerve, he stepped around the table, marching towards you. Stepping back in case he seriously flipped out on you, a wave of panic bloomed in your chest.

Stopping right in front of you, the larger man towering over you, "you have no right to tell me what to do. Watch what you say to me, or-"

"Or else what?" Another voice joined the mix, looking over at the door, Spencer was standing there. A questioning expression on his face, his stare fixed on the man who was far too close to you for his liking.

"Oh here we go, boyfriend to the rescue is it?" He scoffed, taking another step towards you.

"Detective Robertson is it?" Spencer stepped into the room and closer to the pair of you.

Backing up further, finding yourself against the office wall, you watched Spencer quietly, his annoyance evident from the way his right hand was gripping onto his phone. Knuckles white at the pressure.

The man huffed in your face before taking a half step back, "yes agent, what do you want?"

"Well if you're really asking, you can do what agent y/l/n told you to do, and stop being such an ass about it. Or you can just leave, because you're hardly an asset to this investigation."

Taken back by Spencer's response, you held back a smirk watching the exchange.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Could ask you the same thing. Trying to intimidate a woman that not only outranks you in her position, but also her work ethic and anger management skills. Clearly."

This time you couldn't help but snort out a laugh, earning a venomous glare from the Detective.

"You're going to regret this. Both of you." He pointed a finger at you.

After a stagnant pause, he stormed out the room and out of the building.

Taking a deep breath in, you pushed off the wall and over to the desk. Not realising how tense you had been.

"What a jerk, are you alright?" Spencer asked approaching you, his expression softening as he came to stand next to you.

"Yeah. Thank you, think someones a bit tired," you run a hand through your hair, fiddling with the ends of it. A nervous tick of yours.

"Or just a moron," he countered, "what was his issue, we didn't notice until he slammed down the file."

"I asked him hours ago to grab some more files, and he still hadn't done it. Kicked up a fuss that he was the only one doing any work. Which obviously is a lie, he just wanted the overtime pay without the work."

"Garcia started to panic when he threw the paper at you."

"Well thank you for saving me, I did wonder what he was going to do, he was going quite red in the face."

"I wouldn't have let it get that far." He assured you.

"Thank you Spencer, I really appreciate that."

He smiled softly down at you and you returned the gesture. Trying not to read too much into the situation.

[666writingcafe]

Some Time Later

Lucifer (The Angel)

I've been assigned to patrol the woods alone this afternoon, and I have to say, I'm grateful. I don't get to be by myself very often. Some of that is due to choices I've made; after all, I've taken six angels under my wing, pun half-intended.

But there's something on my mind that none of them would be able to understand. Or rather, a person.

The Demon Prince is trying to fix the relationship between our realm and his. Originally, Michael was going to be the representative that went down there, but it got assigned last minute to me. After spending time with the prince, it makes me wonder if Michael would feel the same about him as I do if he were in my place.

The prince is kinder than some of the angels. I originally dismissed it as him simply practicing diplomacy, but he seems genuine in his efforts to get to know me as a person. He doesn't care about titles, instead focusing on character. Despite my less than stellar behavior when we first met, he still insists on becoming an ally.

Not just the Celestial Realm's, but my ally.

"I don't know what happened back there. I haven't felt that way about him in a really long time."

Great. Someone else is in the woods. I hold back a groan, knowing that I'll have to confront them. So much for my alone time.

"I think this place is doing weird things to all of us." Another voice.

"Did something happen to you, too?" The first voice...it sounds familiar.

"I feel like I'm behaving more like a demon than a human. First, there was the cover story for our appearance that I pulled out of my ass, and then I very nearly went all Asmo on Simeon when we were looking for Belphie earlier."

"Like, are we talking sexually? Magically?" The second voice sighs.

"Magically, Satan. I'm pretty sure having sex in the Celestial Realm is akin to heresy." I mean, they're not entirely wrong. But that's not important right now.

Satan...that's the name I've given to the anger that's become a permanent fixture inside my head. At first, it was just an emotion, but then it started talking. Or rather, screaming. At first, its noises were incoherent, but then I started hearing words in a voice that was not my own.

A voice that sounds eerily similar to the first trespasser.

"We have to get out of here," he tells his companion. "There's no telling what will happen if we..." He trails off as his eyes meet mine. Immediately, he tenses up, appearing to freeze in place.

"What's wrong?" Satan maintains eye contact, and the human follows his gaze. "Oh. This is bad. Really bad."

I step out of my makeshift hiding spot, making myself fully visible to them.

"Well, this is rather interesting," I remark, putting on an air of authority. "I should capture the two of you and not release you for a good long while."

"Please don't," the human quickly replies. "We don't mean any harm. If you can just help us find Simeon, I'll promise we'll be out of your hair." They seem terrified, but at least they're moving. Satan, on the other hand, hasn't budged an inch.

"If I was Michael or Raphael, your pleas would mean nothing. Thankfully, I'm only interested in talking." I focus my attention on Satan. "After all, it's not every day one sees the physical manifestation of their wrath."

"I was there even back then?" Satan whispers, confirming my earlier suspicions.

"You've been around from the moment I took Mammon in." My statement shocks Satan. "Your presence implies our separation at some point in the future. Assuming that you're a demon, that means that I must have fallen all the way down to the Devildom, correct?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nods his head.

"Along with the five angels you consider part of your family."

"Six," I correct.

"One doesn't survive the journey. Not entirely."

"What do you mean, not entirely?"

"If you knew who it was, then you'd end up altering the timeline," the human interrupts. "As it is, you know way more than you should."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose," I tell them. "I see it as preparing for the inevitable." They groan at my response.

"Barbatos is going to kill me," they mutter. Before I can question how they know the prince's butler, they take a deep breath and look straight at me.

"We can answer any questions you have, but you need to help us find Simeon. Not your Simeon, but ours. He and Satan got in a heated argument, and he went off in the opposite direction to hopefully try to calm down. Is there a spot here that he feels comfortable hiding in? One where he feels he won't be found easily?"

"There is a place, but it's a bit of a hike from here."

"Good enough. Let's go."