#though given how much more awful the country is going to be in just 2 short days

[dadstarkk]

Ugh I’m so used to just opening TikTok and scrolling for far too long that I have attempted to open the app 3 times in 5 minutes out of habit because I don’t particularly feel like reading or watching the show I’ve got paused. But TikTok is officially down for me

I’ll eventually get used to it, but scrolling TikTok is really how I spent most of my free time for the last 4 years. Not sure I’ll go back if it gets un-banned depending on how that happens (given ads I was seeing and changes to the app, it seems increasingly likely that Meta is in the process of buying it)

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

A Pair Made in The Pits

Falling Behind Pt. 3- TFP Megatron x Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.5

A/n: Thank you all, once again for your patience and understanding on the time it took for this chapter's release. It was hard to find time to write between multiple ER visits and the passing of my dog, but I was finally able to finish it up! I hope you all enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts. WC: 7099

And thank you to @callsign-relic for allowing me to commission her beautiful work for my story's cover art! You always make amazing pieces!

Warnings: Torture, cursing, Starscream and Megatron being a dick, and deprecation. If I've missed anything, please let me know

Y/n wasn’t sure as to how one of the Autobots- probably Optimus- had returned her car to her driveway, but she wasn’t complaining. She did, however, inwardly groan over the fact she forgot to turn off her 6am alarm after all of yesterday’s excitement, especially after the awful sleep she had. Y/n’s mind kept her up all night, the voices of anxiety now practically screaming that something was wrong- that something wrong was done. And it wasn’t until she had finally gotten to sleep did it feel that seconds later her alarm was blaring in her ear. 

Getting up, against the wants of her body, Y/n slowly makes her way to her kitchen, debating whether or not she wants coffee or tea to start her morning. Looking in her fridge and seeing a lack of milk, the decision is easily made and she fills her kettle with water and begins preparing the steeper and getting the oolong out of the cabinet. However, before being able to take the first sip, the sound of the rumbling and then resounding hiss of a semi coming to a stop. Taking a look outside her living room window, there sits Optimus, waiting for Y/n to come outside, presumably to go back to the base.

“Shit.” Y/n groans, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if the kids are also being ushered out of the house this early. 

Pouring her tea into a travel tumbler, Y/n scurries around her house to take a quick shower and get changed into a black blouse tucked into a midi, and finishing it off with a pair of booties. She applies some makeup and practically runs out the door, grabbing a random book on the way. 

“... Good morning, Optimus.” The passenger side door pops open and Y/n quickly climbs in and makes herself comfortable. The woman gives an airy laugh while fiddling with her hair, “I didn’t expect you so soon, I had to rush around to get ready.”

“Good morning, Y/n. I apologize- I did not mean to rush you, though it may be best to get back to the base sooner than later.” The cab hums with his response- even if Y/n hadn’t been inside, she was sure she would have felt the baritone vibrations nonetheless. 

The drive back was long and quiet, much like last night. Taking a sip of her tea, Y/n finally looks down at the book, and it takes all of her restraint not to spit it out onto his dashboard. What looks back up at Y/n is a sweaty, shirtless cowboy and the title ‘Ride into My Heart Like a Stallion’. A gag gift given to them by their friend half-way across the country, of which Y/n never intended to touch, let alone read. Y/n couldn’t help but truly consider the pros and cons on whether or not she could just chuck the book, but she knew it would drag up more questions if she just threw the book out the window, so she simply crossed her arms over it and hoped that no one would ask her about it throughout the day. 

“Y/n?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Y/n looks over to the head unit of the dash, not entirely sure where to look before responding, “Sorry, it seems I was lost in my own thoughts.”

“I was asking if you needed to stop anywhere before heading back to base? We do not have much for humans at this moment.”

“Oh um, no, I’m alright. I have my tea and a book, and I’m sure the children will be able to keep themselves occupied as well. I’m not completely familiar with the boys, but Miko will most assuredly be fine; give that girl a pencil, paper, and something of interest, she’ll be kept busy for a while.” Y/n laughs to herself for a moment, though a worried expression passes over her face, “She’s a creative girl, but I worry about her being lonely. Her host parents aren’t used to her, and she doesn’t really have any friends at the school. I think, despite the rather strange circumstances, that perhaps being with you all may be good for her.”

“You seem to care for them well. Do you have sparklings of your own?’

“Sparkl- oh, Children? No no no. I don’t have any- um- sparklings. Closest thing I hope to get to that is Miko. I haven’t figured out my own grievances in this world, and it wouldn’t feel right to bring life into a world where your own quotemate may be a cruel joke.”

“A quotemate?”

Y/n takes a deep breath through her nose and casts her eyes to the ceiling of Optimus’ cab, trying to come up with a succinct explanation to the complex system that not even humanity has completely figured out, “Well, a quotemate is someone you are connected to. In the simplest of terms, your quotemate is the person who is supposed to protect, love, and stand beside you. And the way you find them is a quote that appears on one of your wrists- hence, ‘quotemate’. There’s a few more details, but that’s the gist of it.”

“We had a similar- but not very common- phenomenon on Cybertron, however, we call our fated ones ‘sparkmates’.”

“It’s a much prettier word than our species’. Why sparkmates?”

“Your kind call them hearts; we call it a Spark. It contains our life force and our memories. And in the case of the ones in which we are destined, they are our other half and thus hold the other half of our spark. Those of our kind who have a sparkmate were encouraged and expected to cherish and hold them dear.” Optimus’ cab is silent for a moment for a moment, “Though, after the start of the war, people began dreading hearing the words engraved on their frame, fearing their other half would be on the other side of the battlefield.”

“...Do you have a sparkmate, Optimus?” Another hum runs through the cab, before turning into the slightest chuckle.

“I do. He’s not the easiest mech to get along with, but I would never have made it as long as I have without him.” The bot’s facial feature may not be present, but Y/n can easily imagine the fond, endearing smile that would have otherwise found itself on the large mech’s lips. “I will be forever grateful for Ratchet’s undying support.”

“Ratchet?!” Once the statement sets in, Y/n’s head whips from the ceiling of the cab to the center dashboard at the revelation.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I haven’t spent much time around Ratchet, but he’s not the most- how do I put this- welcoming?”

“I will admit Ratchet is wary about the involvement of you and the children, but he will not cause you harm.”

“OH! Oh no- I- I didn’t mean to- to imply that he- I know Ratchet wouldn’t hurt the children! He just visibly doesn’t seem to like us.” Waving her hands in denial, Y/n scrambles to fix the miswording of her statement, but it doesn’t seem Optimus was too worried about the misunderstanding.

“Give Ratchet time, he will adjust. I have no doubt you both will get along with time.”

“You’re right- after all, we all will be spending much more time with each other. I look forward to getting to know all of you.” She smiles, glad to know Optimus, and likely the rest of them will take good care of the kids and herself. Maybe she would be able to pick Ratchet’s mind at some point for information about the anatomy or history of the Cybertron people.

*       *       *       *       *       *

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” This is not what the young woman had hoped would be, quite literally, crawling around the base, but she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the thing that Ratchet had just squashed, “I hope to hell and back that is not what you people consider some kind of bug!”

“No, Y/n. I’m afraid this may be the effects of dark energon.” Though Optimus’ voice is normally quite dark, Y/n could easily pick up on the deep worry that whatever this ‘dark energon’ brings, means nothing good will come of its arrival in the base. “ Seeing as it has some of the residue Arcee found on Cliffjumper, it would stand to reason that it was what brought both your equipment to life and Cliffjumper back from the dead.”

“It would answer the question as to why Cliffjumper’s life signal came back online, but dark energon, Optimus? It’s such a scarce material- it’s virtually nonexistent. Why would it be on this rubbish planet?”

“May I interject?” Both bots turn their attention to the woman they had evidently forgotten was there- one much more open to the interruption than the other. “Um- may I ask what energon is? I thought you said your people’s Allspark was made of it, so why would it attack Ratchet? ”

At the question, Ratchet scoffs and begins running diagnostics on the squished piece of equipment that previously housed some of this energon stuff. His blatant display of annoyance was no less irritating than it was yesterday, but not only did Y/n not want to start some sort of argument with Optimus’ sparkmate, it also wouldn’t get them anywhere, so she would refrain from mouthing off to the condescending mech. At some point, she was going to have to have a one on one conversation with Ratchet about speech behavior and ways to go about explaining things without making the rest of the room feel as if they’re a massive inconvenience, but now was not the time- no matter how tempting it was to tell him to shove his opinions up his tailpipe. 

“Energon is the lifesource of our people. Dark energon is something that can give life-” Optimus gestures towards the mangled metal, “- but the cost is great. Not much is known about it, as Ratchet stated- dark energon is a rare commodity, but it is not something to underestimate, hence why I believe Megatron is the reason why it has found its way to this planet’s surface.”

Both Y/n and Ratchet look at Optimus, almost in synch, “But why?”

“To conquer this planet by raising an army of the undead.”

“Where would he find that many Cybertronian dead, Optimus? It’s not like Megatron is going to just stumble on a burial ground on this planet.” At least the sass Ratchet displays isn’t always just directed at any human- his leader isn’t even exempt from the proverbial lashings of the team’s medic, though Y/n supposes that may have something to do with them being connected.

Before Optimus could answer, his thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of the rest of the Autobots’ alt-modes. Upon stopping, each kid hops out of their respective guardian, having obviously come from some kind of fun. Looking at her phone, Y/n realizes that it's still a little early in the day, so she is a tad surprised they woke up this early on a Saturday, but she’s glad to see all of them having fun and maybe even bonding with their new companions. Seeing Bulkhead awkwardly handing Miko her electric guitar, she already has a feeling the girl will be putting on at least one show while they are at the base, knowing the acoustics are much too tempting for the girl to not play at least one song. 

“Autobots, remain here. Ratchet and I will be outside of communications range for some time, so I’m putting you in charge.” Optimus give his orders 

“Optimus, with all due respect, playing bodyguard is one thing, babysitting is another.” The sight of Jack scoffing and rolling his eyes at her wording is easy to see- any kid his age wouldn’t like the idea of being babysat, even if it was by an alien robot. The femme crosses her arms before gesturing towards the medic, “Besides, Ratchet hasn’t been in the field since the war.”

“My pistons may be rusty, but my hearing is as sharp as ever!” Ratchet’s call from his computer forces a laugh barely covered by a cough from Y/n, which she quickly mouths a ‘sorry’ when he shoots her a look. 

“For the moment, it is only reconnaissance.” Optimus tries to assure the smaller bot, but both Arcee and Y/n could smell the bullshit from a mile away.

“Then why do I hear an edge in your voice?” 

At her continued questioning, Optimus pauses and furrows his brows, “Arcee, much has changed in the past 24 hours. We must all learn to adapt.” Before she could get another word out, he turns to Ratchet, “Ratchet, bridge us out.”

And with just a few steps, they were gone.

“Okay chief, so, uh, what’s on the activity list?” Jack looks up to his mechanical guardian only to be met with a scowl.

“If I’m not mistaken, Jack, you should have some schoolwork to do. Why don’t we give them a break from whatever activities they treated you to this morning?” Y/n smiles at the kids, trying to give the Autobots a needed time off from their newly appointed roles as guardians. “Miko, you can practice some of your guitar and then start on some of your work, and Raf, I’m not sure of your schoolwork load, but I suggest you start on any work you may have.”

“Yes ma’am.” All three kids say, some more begrudgingly than others, all while setting up for whatever they are to get done.

“Good, I’m going on Patrol. Bee, you’re with me.” Arcee makes her way to the tunnel, ready to go out.

“But Optimus told us to stay here.” Bulkhead brought up the leader’s orders before almost immediately being shot down. 

“When Optimus puts you in charge, you can call the shots.” With that, both Arcee and Bee transform and are down in the tunnel in seconds, leaving the kids, Y/n, and Bulkhead left.

“So, uh, what’s on the activities list?” Bulk turns, seeing Miko plugging in her guitar to the amp, the feedback forcing everyone to cover their ears.

“Band practice, anyone?” After a moment of silence, she turns to the younger boy, “Come on, Raf. You play anything?”

“Um… Keyboard?”

“Laptop and samples-”

Y/n smiles and shakes her head, glad to see the kids are getting along before opening her book and tea thermos, taking a seat near Ratchet’s computer stand so as to not get in the kids’ way. She never planned on reading this kookie book her friend sent her, but it was either the book or be subjected to joining Miko’s makeshift band after an already hectic week.

“Y/n, are you joining?”

“Nah, I’m good with just listening, Miko. You know I prefer listening to you play.” Shooting the girl a smile and thumbs up, she returns to the downright awful writing of this cowboy love story. Y/n has to go to the bookstore at some point to send an equally bad book. Maybe a silly alien romance book- forbidden love. They’ll be rolling on the floor at the concept. 

As the woman chuckles to herself, the familiar green lights from yesterday start blaring, letting them know Agent Fowler had returned. Bulkhead rushed the kids to hide behind his pedes and Y/n didn’t want to risk being seen running over, so she kept her spot under Ratchet’s computer and motioned to the kids to stay quiet just as the elevator door opened.

“Prime? Prime!” Y/n couldn’t see the man, but she could tell that he must still be on the platform, since she could no longer hear his footsteps. Just like yesterday, he did not sound happy.

“Agent Fowler, uh, he’s not here. Nobody’s here! … except me, of course.” The green bot chuckles awkwardly, and Y/n silently groans- this mech is going to get them all caught if his nerves take over. 

“Well, where is he? Wait, let me guess-” as Fowler rants and raves he must have started to move because Bulkhead begins taking steps to keep the kids out of sight. However, his movements and the cable to Miko’s guitar don’t seem to be mixing well, from the way Y/n sees Miko nearly fall, only for the boys to catch her. But the slight fall was enough for the guitar to send sound through the amp, she just hopes that it wasn’t enough to break the man from his tirade.

“Since when are you bots electric?” Fowler questions and Y/n is pleading for whatever deity that may be listening to grant Bulkhead the ability to come up with some kind of lie, but the kids beat him to it.

“Hi. We’re… interns! Earning extra credit in auto shop.” Jack awkwardly smiles, hoping his lie is bought.

“Alright. Let’s move. I’m taking all three of you into federal custody.” Hearing his footfalls on the metal stairs, Y/n makes her way over, picking up a piece of the squashed robot from earlier that Ratchet must have missed. 

“Over my dead body.” She holds up the metal piece like a makeshift bat, more than ready to take a swing.

“Woah there. By the stripes of Uncle Sam’s shorts, ma’am, put the weapon down. I’m just going to take you and these kids to-” Taking a step back, Agent Fowler puts his hands up to show he didn’t mean any harm, only to be cut off by the woman again.

“Nowhere. You are taking these kids nowhere. Optimus has promised protection for these kids and like hell will I allow some random ass man, trusted government agent or not, to touch a hair on these kids’ heads, let alone take them anywhere.” Y/n takes a look behind her, and in seeing the kids looking between Y/n and Fowler apprehensively, she drops the metal to her side, not letting go in case something goes awry, “… I will go with you, if it will get you to leave.”

“What?!” Miko shrieks, coming to hold onto the sleeve of Y/n’s blouse, making her briefly glance back before bringing her attention back to Agent Fowler, ”You can’t go with him! He-”

“Bulkhead, get Miko.”

“Uh I don’t-”

“Get her now, Bulkhead. She is your ward, act like it.” She shoots the metal giant a glare, watching as he finally picks the girl up, not that she went peacefully.

“No! Put me down, Bulk!” Miko thrashes in his hold as Y/n walks towards Fowler.

“Let’s go have a conversation with whomever your boss is, shall we? I’m sure I can convince them that leaving these children in Optimus’ care is the best course of action.” She grins at the man as she passes him on the way to the elevator, a grin that holds a level of malice that makes Fowler nearly let the woman just stay instead of getting in the confined space of his helicopter.

But only nearly.

“And I know that my superiors will have all of you in custody.” He grabs her elbow and finishes leading her up the steps and into the elevator. Both adults could hear Miko screeching in Bulk’s grasp, threats and complaints that turned to pleading the closer Y/n got to that elevator. Y/n didn’t say anything. She didn’t look back. But with every step she took, her heart squeezed with each scream from the girl. It isn’t until they get onto the elevator and the doors close that the tension from her shoulders ease and the breath escapes her. 

“Is that so? I’d say if your superiors are as weak-willed as you, I’ll be back before it’s time for the kids to be back home.” She doesn’t bother looking over at the man, not even as he mumbles something about respect and ‘women and alien robots being the problem with his blood pressure’. 

Before long, the elevator comes to a creaky stop and the doors open to reveal the orange hue of the rock the base is hidden under and a view that, under different circumstances, would be quite gorgeous, especially with the breeze taking away from the baking early fall sun. A few feet away lies the helicopter Agent Fowler presumably arrived in earlier. The reality of the past ten minutes was setting in with each step they took towards the vehicle and while Y/n absolutely would have stood up for those kids again in a heartbeat, maybe she wouldn’t have given herself as collateral quite as quickly. 

“Get comfortable, it’s gonna be a long 5 hour flight.” Tired of his hold on her arm, Y/n pulls herself away before scrambling up into the body of the helicopter, grimacing at her lack of grace. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll be providing in-flight snacks. After all, you seem to have such star spangled hosting skills.” She adjusts herself in the passenger seat, and never in her wildest days would she ever thought she would hope and pray for a vehicle to turn into a giant robot and prevent her from being sent to a government facility, but here she sits- hoping for just that.

“Are you going to be pushing my buttons this entire flight, or will I have an ounce of peace on the way to the Pentagon?” Fowler pulls himself up, lacking his own grace and nearly falling face first into his seat, forcing a snort to come from Y/n.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to send me back to the base.” The suggestion brings out a laugh of Fowler’s own, no other answer needed nor given. Starting up the chopper, he glances over to ensure the straps were done properly before handing a set of headphones to Y/n, before the sound of the blades becomes too loud.

Finally, the vehicle lifts off the ground and the flight to Washington D.C. begins, making Y/n wonder if she could properly time being over one of the larger ‘islands’ of sandstone littering the Nevada desert to jump out of the copter, but deigns it too risky to attempt. While she’s turning over possible solutions in her head, Fowler rings his boss, “Sir, Agent Fowler. We have a situation. I’m en route from the autobot base. I’ll brief you in person.”

Choosing to save her breath, Y/n continues looking out the window of her side of the vehicle, noting the sun ebbing its way closer to being at its highest point. That was one thing she hated about this area, while she found the landscape to be gorgeous, it quickly became boring seeing the exact same hues of orange, yellow, brown, and the occasional reds. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes after Fowler informed his boss of his location that the sonar built into the dashboard started beeping with an icon flashing on the screen, getting closer to the center of the sonar’s radius. 

“I am begging you to tell me that is either a big bird or a friend.”

“What in Uncle Sam’s beard-” Looking up from the dashboard, Y/n sees some kind of drone flying right at them and lets out a shout, pushing the steering gear to the side with her foot before the thing coming their way. Luckily, Fowler snaps out of his shock quickly enough to grab the steering before the both of you could go crashing into the canyon side. 

“Watch it!” 

“You watch the fucking drone!” And as if her luck wasn't bad enough, in the next moment, the helicopter jostles, claws of whatever had attacked them now sinking into the roof of the helicopter's cab. Moving in her seat, Y/n looks up to the ceiling and shrieks upon seeing the sharp talons that easily make up the length of her face stuck in the metal above her, forcing the agent to cover his ears. 

With a harsh yank from above, the copter jerks in response and the last thing Y/n remembers is the feeling of the cold, hard glass making a sharp impact with the back of her head, before everything went dark.

*       *       *       *       *       *

The feeling of weightlessness while simultaneously feeling as if something is pulling you down by your ankles is something Y/n can confidently say she's never felt before. That sensation accompanied by the frigid air around her and the pain of having her arms being held twisted uncomfortably in the air made her transition back to consciousness that much more unpleasant. Tension and pain racks her body every step closer she gets to being awake, drawing out a strained hiss from the woman.

“Ooh? Look who's finally decided to join the party.” A scratchy voice drawls from a few feet to her left. Opening her eyes, Y/n is met with two bright, red eyes made all the more piercing with the bot's white dots that must act as pupils. Despite the strain on her throat and body, she lets out an ear-shattering scream and kicks the new mech.

“Ach! Why you little-”

“Where am I?! Who the fuck are you?! Let me down!” Paying little mind to the irritated figure before her, she struggles in her chains, squirming and shaking.

“Awwww the little human wants to be let go?” A sharp talon pricks Y/n's chin and lifts it to bring her eyes back to his, the grin on his face a celebration of his premature victory.

“Yes! Please!”

“How polite. Such a rarity in humans.” He chuckles to himself, obviously thinking his little stab to be funny. “All you have to tell me, dear, is where the Autobot base is. Can you do that for me?”

“Don't tell him anything!” Finally, Fowler speaks up from Y/n's left, shocking her into whipping her head to face him, not having even noticed his presence prior to him yelling.

A silence fills the cold, dark room and Y/n looks back to the mech before her, a desperate look in her eyes, “I'm sorry, what's an autobot?”

The mech wrenches back, his grin twisting into an infuriated scowl. Standing to his full height, he wraps the chains that hold her around his hand and pulls them up and towards him, further twisting her arms until a sickening pop echoes in the room, forcing a scream to rip from her throat. Any kindness, faux or no, had vanished as the bot before her snarls, “What do you mean, you don’t know?!”

Y/n’s breathing is shallow and panicked, the burning sensation surging down her arm and through her shoulder causing her to squeeze shut her eyes. Luckily, it was only her right arm, but there was no time to appreciate that. After a moment, she opens her eyes to see the now-blurry mech leaned down in front of her through the tears building and streaming down her face, she hiccups, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear!”

“Fine. If you’re going to play like this, I have no choice but to escalate matters.” He brings himself back up to his full height and turns to another bot who presumably is standing guard at the door. “Bring the prod.”

Prod?! If struggling in her chains wouldn’t exasperate her dislocated shoulder, Y/n would be moving every which way in order to find some way to get out of this nightmarish shitshow.

“Please, sir. I don’t know anything about any Auto people! I was picked up by this man after getting lost in the desert.” Tears beginning to subside, Y/n glances at Fowler and then back to Starscream, “I’m sure you’re a reasonable… robot-”

“I am not one of your feeble human machines, I am Starscream! Current second-in-command and future leader of the Decepticons!” The door opens, letting more cold, stale air into the room, and the bot from earlier reenters the room, holding what can only be described as some futuristic bident. Starscream snatches the device from the other Decepticon, “Finally, what took you so long?!”

“I’ll be nice and give you one more opportunity, humans- where is the Autobot base?” Switching his tactics to address Fowler, he leans down to the man and holds the prod up to his chin.

“Sure thing,buddy, right after you eat my star-spangled shorts.” Fowler laughs but is quickly cut short as Starscream activates his prod, a pink electrical current running between the two prongs. Upon pressing it to Agent Fowler’s ribs, the man screams in pain, clutching his own chains in an attempt to ground himself.

“No!”

“As I imagined, energon and human nervous systems don’t mix.” As he keeps the energon-infused prod pressed to Fowler’s skin, his grin only grows. With each press of the instrument, the clothes begin to sear away, allowing the energon access to his bare skin, no doubt doing further damage, if the smell of burning skin is anything to go by.

“Starscream, leave him alone! Please!” Voices in her head plead with her to keep her mouth shut, to no avail. The man is suffering, and while Y/n wasn’t exactly Fowler’s biggest fan for taking her away from the Autobot base, she didn’t want to see the poor man suffer.

And he stops, but only for a moment. The humming of the torture device and the heavy gulps of air Fowler sucks into his lungs at the brief interlude fill the otherwise silent room. Starscream’s eyes flick back and forth, not really focusing on anything. After another moment, he gives a thoughtful hum of his own, “Perhaps you’re right. I may have been going about this all along.”

“Yes! I’m glad you-”

“If what you say is true, that means you’re an innocent human. And what a shame it would be if a, what do you humans call them- “protector of the people” was to allow a civilian to face such methods of… interrogation.” And without another moment’s pause, knives felt as if they were entering Y/n’s bloodstream from where Starscream jabs her, ripping yet another agonizing scream from her throat. 

“Stop it, con! She has nothing to do with any of this.” Fowler barks, jostling his chain to attempt to wriggle out of his constraints.

“Precisely. The faster you tell me where the Autobots are hiding, the sooner I stop hurting our friend here.” Driving the point home he jams the prod back into Y/n’s ribcage, releasing another scream from the woman. Similar to when Fowler was receiving the same “Decepticon hospitality” Y/n’s clothes began to singe away. Fighting the desire to keep her eyes closed, she struggles to look at Fowler and give him the briefest of shaking her head, before letting it hang down, the weight of her own head too much to keep up.

I am not doing this just for you to give it away, Fowler. Don’t fuck this up.

She knew she couldn’t say anything that may give her away, so the hope is that her fellow prisoner could understand to keep his mouth shut, even if she is to suffer for it. The next jolt was to her right arm, as if that arm hadn’t already been pulled from its socket, just at the crook of her elbow. To drive home the fact that he didn’t plan on letting up, Starscream dug the prod in harder against her skin, drawing blood to the surface. He finally retracts the weapon and holds Y/n’s head up with a dagger-like finger on each cheek, turning her to fully face Fowler, not that she could see him very clearly, “Come now, Agent Fowler. I don’t think our friend has much more in her. Haven’t you realized the Autobots have abandoned you? I am the only one you can rely upon now. So, tell me what I want to know, or we’ll see how many more she can take.”

“Please… no more. I’ll tell you,” Fowler breaks eye contact with Y/n, ashamed to give up after she’s done so much to keep quiet. He couldn’t keep sitting back, letting her take the brunt of Starscream’s sadism anymore. It takes so much strength for him to muster the words, “They’re in… secret government base.”

“Fowler… no.”

“Go on.”

Shots being fired were audible from beyond the door across the room. And unless Decepticons practiced their aim in the empty hallways Y/n briefly saw, that means the opposition was aboard. 

That means the Autobots had come to save them. 

“You were saying?” Having also heard the commotion outside, Starscream becomes more antsy, and it shows.

“In the old steel mill… or was it under that carnival funhouse?”

Finally fed up with the disrespect and sass, Starscream frustratedly yells and stabs the prod back into Y/n, the intensity of the voltage much higher than it had been earlier. The shots were louder now, being heard even over Y/n’s screeches. If Fowler wasn’t halfway into unconsciousness, he would have tried to distract the mech as much as he could, but he couldn’t think past staying awake and alive. 

“I’ve had enough of this.” Starscream begins unraveling Y/n from her chains, not trusting the others to keep the Autobots at bay, let alone defeating them. He may not leave this moment the victor, but like hell is he going to lose both hostages. Y/n doesn’t have the strength to fight back after all that had been done, barely even registering that not only is she free from her chains, but she’s also haphazardly being shoved into a cockpit and losing consciousness for the second time that day.

The door to the room opens a moment later, a silent Vehicon just stands in the entryway.

“Well?” He asks, patience draining with every passing second, quickly turning to shock when the Vehicon’s frame drops and both Bulkhead and Bumblebee are poised for blasting whatever stands in the room, immediately shooting the other Vehicon with Starscream. Aiming his arm towards Fowler, Starscream glowers at the interrupting bots, “Not so fast-”

“I wouldn’t.” Arcee taps him from above, having snuck her way in through the ventilation shaft. 

“Oh, but I might.” 

“Where’s Y/n?” Bulkhead keeps his blaster aimed towards Starscream, but with a brief glance around it’s easy to see there is no other organic life, other than Fowler- only chains that now hang empty.

“The other human? She said she didn’t know you, so we… parted ways.”

“NO!” Bulkhead shouts and immediately begins shooting, prompting the other to take fire as well. Starscream can only jump from side to side in order to avoid their gunfire. 

“Apologies, Autobots, but I’m sure you can find her body down below somewhere.” He cackles as he transforms into his alt-mode, and races out of the room, knocking Arcee from the vent and Bulk and Bee into the ground. 

* * * * * *

Y/n wakes up in another dark space- only this time it’s much smaller and warmer; there’s a sway to the room, if you can call it that, but she isn’t sure if the sway is from the nausea overcoming her or if wherever she is is actually moving. The last thing she remembers is a final shock to her body before passing out. Eyes adjusting to the light, it’s easy to determine the surrounding space is the inside of some kind of jet, but instead of the cockpit being parallel to the ground, it’s upturned, like the aircraft would be facing the sky. She was in a Cybertronian- likely Starscream, if the color scheme is anything to go by.

Pressing her hands to the ground, Y/n is quickly reminded of the fact that Starscream had ripped her right arm out of its socket. Looking down, she notices her clothes are burnt and ripped beyond repair- her blouse now adorned with asymmetrical, distressed sleeves that barely go past her elbows and the skirt being a shredded mess, likely from rough handling of Starscream’s razor sharp talons; Taking her foot and stepping on the pathetic scraps of fabric of her skirt, Y/n uses her functional hand and rips a handful of the fabric strips away. Y/n balls the cloths up and puts it in between her teeth as a makeshift mouth guard. The limb now felt numb, but she knows that popping it back in is going to burn; her left hand grasps the right arm’s bicep.

Deep breaths. Deep Breaths, Y/n.

And with an upwards jerk, she feels a brief click in her shoulder, but the limb doesn’t doesn’t stay in place, forcing a deep inhale through her gag.

Relax. You’re not going to be able to reset it if you don’t fucking relax. You just survive until Optimus gets you.

After another few deep breaths, Y/n tries it again and feels a more solid click as she screams, muffled by the burnt fabric in her mouth; letting go, her arm stays in place, though a reignited burn returns to the site of the wound. With her arm taken care of, getting out of this wretched place is next on the to do list. Banging a hand on the glass enclosing her in this dreadful mech��s cockpit, the needles in her throat become even more pronounced as she groans, ”Let me out.”

Nothing changes. His steps are still steady.

“Let me out!”

Again, nothing.

“STAR-”

“STARSCREAM, YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL! I ORDERED YOU TO AWAIT MY COMMAND!”

Upon hearing such a loud fury, Y/n immediately seeks out the most stable part of Starscream’s cockpit and hunkers down. If she has learned anything, it’s that these Decepticons generally deal with disputes through violence, and she doesn’t believe that stops within their own ranks.

“Please, Lord Megatron, I meant no- AGH!” and just like that, Starscream, and Y/n transitively, fly across the room at Megatron’s hand. And though Y/n can’t see him, it did not sound like it took much physical exertion for him to do so. 

“Instead, your mindless agenda resulted in the disabling of my ship and the delay of MY PLANS!” Megatron raises his hand again, more than ready to strike Starscream again.

“My intentions were pure, master. I only wanted you to be rid of Optimus.” Y/n’s world tilts as Megatron brings his foot against Starscream’s head, smashing it into the ground and allowing sparks to fly; she grunts at being thrown from her “safe space” and rolls onto the glass under her that begins cracking under the pressure of Megatron’s foot. She hates crying, but after the third time death threatens to barrel down your door, the stress begins to cap off, and so the weeping begins.

“NO ONE RIDS ME OF OPTIMUS PRIME BUT ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO-” The sound of Y/n’s wailing, though faint to Megatron’s audials, catches his attention. Lifting Starscream above himself by his throat and turning him enough to get a glimpse into his cockpit, making perfect eye contact with Y/n. Slowly turning Starscream back to face him, Megatron tightens his grasp around his throat and hisses, “Starscream… explain yourself.”

“My lord, She is a friend of the Autobots! I took her as a hostage so we can extract information!” His voice comes out staticy, a sign Megatron may be doing more damage than he should as he continues constricting his grip. 

“You are as stupid as you are a disgrace to the Decepticons. Bring the human out.” Megatron growls his command and releases his throat, sending his second-in-command scrambling to retrieve Y/n, who in turn dodges each grab at her body, thanking the fates for making his cockpit on his back while bi-pedal.

“Stop moving, you-”

“Keep the fuck away from me! I already told you, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you walking scrapyard, and me speaking to your troglodyte of a boss isn’t going to change that!” Unfortunately, there’s only so many places for Y/n to run to, and her Yakety sax impression comes to a close when he manages to snag a part of her skirt. Bringing her out on the palm of his hand whilst using his thumb to press her to lie flat on her stomach, he presents her to his master while scowling down at her.

“Why you insolent little-”

“You are wasting my time, Starscream! Is she telling the truth- have you really learned nothing from your own hostage?! Not only have you wasted our resources with your stunt, but you have given the Autobots a reason to storm this ship!”

“No, my liege! They won’t come here to find her- they believe her to be dead.” Starscream allows a shaky smile to creep its way onto his lips, hoping to at least somewhat appease the brute in front of him. Processing what he’s just said, Y/n stops trying to move her way from under the mech’s thumb.

They think I’m dead.

“And what does that leave us with? A soft, useless human who can’t even escape the confines of your servos, let alone provide any kind of productivity for our cause.

No one is coming to save me.

The image of Megatron’s face moving to be right in front of her entire body snaps Y/n out of her spiraling thoughts of lost hope, the heat and humidity coming from his mouth breezes against her, forcing goosebumps to crawl along her arms. The mechanical giant looks her person up and down, then scoffs,

“Worthless scrap.”

The woman bristles as he begins to make his way towards one of the room’s doors. Having noticed Starscream loosening his hold on her back, Y/n stands and snarls at the back of Megatron, “I’m sure you know all about being worthless, wouldn’t you.”

His heavy foot slams to the floor midstep, once relaxed stature stiffened as he slowly turns back towards Y/n and Starscream, in which the latter panickedly looks between the girl in his hand and the mech who has killed other Cybertronians for less. Megatron turns his attention to another mech Y/n had not previously noticed who is practically hidden in the lack of light on this ship- of whom looks back to Megatron. The two stare at one another, as if speaking with each other telepathically.

“Starscream, take that… thing to Knockout for examination.”

Taglist: @the-unhinged-raccoon @hystericalanarchy @mythicallystupid @darkfangx399 @nixblizzard16 @crowleysthings @delectableworm

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list!

[raine-witcher]

I have finished Spirit of Justice and I have OPINIONS:

These are not going to be at all well organized instead will be tangent filled and disorganized af. Bear with me.

First of all the trilogy itself id describe as a…interesting sandwich, we have a rocky depressing start but with absolutely solid new characters. The absolute masterpiece of Duel destines being a completely amazing set of cases consistently. And then…this absolutely devastating rollercoaster. I think the cases in Japanafornia are solid, great cases. While the first 2 cases in Kura’in are…they’re pretty bad, especially the 3rd case of the game. And that issue is entirely because the characters from Kura’in are incredibly uncomplying. Nahyuta is a complete asshole and hypocrite who shows no signs of his change. And Rayfa is a spoiled brat. Neither of these characters change until the last half of the last case. That. Is. A. Problem. Why should I care about their changes when I haven’t seen a steady pattern of growth from them? Instead we get coin flips. That’s not compelling that’s a waste of my time having to read their stupid. Boring. Dialogue. I hated Nahyuta so much I stoped voicing him for a while in my play though. The best way k can describe why he sucks is because he wasted 4 dialogue boxes to just say he likes peaches. He drags on about nothing. After following the incredible acts of Gavin and Simon the best was I can explain my disappointment is by pointing out how both they before him had the ability to admit when they’re wrong and be helpful in a case. Nahyuta said Trucy was a sinful being pretending to be a cute little girl. That’s not a great introduction when we know Trucy is far from that. They keep saying he’s “kind and generous” but they show no action confirming that idea. The writers forgot about the core rule of “show don’t tell” that man was awful constantly and consistently. So when we get to the final case, I don’t give a single flying fuck about his feelings or change of heart. Because I’ve been given no real reason to care. Speaking of the 5th case. Oh my god. I cried so much about Dhurke. And part of me is upset because that proves the writers could make a character worth bringing me to tears and he had so much less screen time then Nahyuta or Rayfa. So they proved they can write characters that don’t suck ass from Kura’in. So I’m just all the more disappointed. Finally. I hate Apollo staying there. And that’s for multiple reasons. One, I don’t like the kingdom of Kura’in. Best way I can explain that is due to the fact it doesn’t have its own voice as a distinct country. I can clearly tell it’s a large melting point of every country from the east. What am I supposed to latch onto if it doesn’t truly have a culture? It’s biggest defining feature is it’s hostility towards me. So my reaction is to want to get tf out of there as fast as possible. Secondly as I’ve stated. All the characters in Kura’in are fucking boring. Or annoying. Or whatever. I don’t want to spend my time talking to them. Therfore I don’t want to be in this location. Okay two. I love Apollo. And I’m terrified that he won’t be a main character in the next game. I don’t want him to come back as a cameo character in a single case. He is a core part of the main 3 I’ve come to adore and I want him to be there. As a main character. Consistently. And I don’t know if he is. And I’m worried. So the ending made me feel bittersweet, upset, disappointed. This cast I’ve come to know as a family. And then being together is important to me. Is that stupid? Personally Idgaf it’s my feelings and I’ll get myself attached to what I want. I will criticize the writers for these decisions because they’re also written an amazing franchise that I’ve come to adore incredibly. I care about this game and it’s characters and I want to see them together. The end of duel destines where they all 3 point together left such an impression on me. As an artist and a character designer (not professional in any sense but it’s what I love to do) I respect the fuck out of the creators for making the cast of Wright anything agency. But the fumbles in Spirit of Justice have me concerned for the next game in the franchise. I hope to be proven wrong in my fears.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #298

…I took 1040 pictures on the way to the funeral for M's grandmother. I'm sad that I only get to include 30 of them.

It was about a 2 hour car trip to the place where the funeral was being held. On the way up, M put on all of the songs by The Megas; he and I sang the songs together in the car, and it was awesome. I've written about The Megas before; their songs are based on the music of the original MegaMan games. Their themes include things like breaking robots free from slavery, fighting against corruption and violence, and being made to be a weapon. I think you'd find a bunch of their songs to be extremely relatable; listen to the lyrics, and you'll understand why, I'm sure. Lemme pull up a few for ya...

...Those two above really should be combined into a single song.

Here's a few more...

...I think you'll find this one particularly poignant:

Here's a couple more:

And this one in particular...

...By far, I think my favorite is this one, though:

...The lyrics of this one. I find them profound and inspirational. It is something that acknowledges the difficulty of the things, and yet urges you to take one more step forward.

M loved his grandmother very much, but towards the end, they had a bit of a falling out; as it turns out, she is a bit too okay with things like racism and nationalism for comfort. This realization left a very sour taste in M's mouth, and though he still loves her, they didn't speak for a very long time, and the bond kinda frayed apart from there.

Naturally, M was sad at her passing. His feelings on it are maybe a bit complicated. And that's all right. J and I will be here to support him through it - whatever he needs from us, we'll make sure he gets.

We went to lunch at a local Irish pub. But the town we had to go to is rather... hrrrm... how to describe in a way you'll understand, given your lack of historical and cultural context...

...Essentially, it's a town full of folks who think that brown-skinned people, immigrants, and non-cisgender and non-straight folks are bad. There was a TV in the restaurant we went to that played some very outlandish political advertisements; one of the slogans we heard that made us retch a little on the inside was, "Kamala Harris is for they/them, not you!"

...For reasons I don't fully understand, lots of people in my country have a HUGE problem with transgender people, and that's reflected in that crazy slogan. Some of the people I know and love are transgender, and it's really sad to think that there's an alarming number of people who'd like to see them erased from existence.

...The kinds of people who live in towns like these also have problems with things like "giving medical treatment to incarcerated people", "helping struggling families so they don't starve or end up homeless", and "welcoming people from war-torn places so they can find peace and safety". They have problems with A LOT more things than just these; most of those "problems" revolve around the notion that people other than straight, white, financially stable, cisgender male, able-bodied, neurotypical Christian Americans exist. This thing, in and of itself, is one of the ways that the scarcity/competition mindset manifests - they don't wanna see those they consider "outsiders" get helped while they themselves are struggling because they think "help" is a finite resource that they, themselves, are unworthy of receiving. It's a complicated topic outside the scope of today's letter; maybe I'll cover it some other time.

...In any case, it's scary because most people, including everyone in my house and almost everyone I know, do not fit that very narrow definition of what is "acceptable" to these kinds of folks. I grew up around people like this, and when I got out, I had a lot of awful stuff to unlearn; I understand the mechanics of how people end up getting warped into fearing and hating their brothers and sisters who look and think and do things differently than they do. It comes about as a complicated interaction between generational trauma and the almost cult-like tendencies of large communities of abusive, toxic people.

...I feel badly for them because I know all too well how difficult it is to escape entire circles full of abusive, toxic people. I am going to explain the mechanics so you'll understand, but... these mechanics are ugly and cover a lot of sad, scary, and troubling things, so if you don't wanna continue reading, I understand. In any case, escaping is almost like trying to break up with a toxic partner (this is also unimaginably difficult!), except... instead of it just being your partner, it's your entire family and everyone they know and everyone you know. Often, escaping circles like these involves needing to wholly remove yourself from everyone you used to know in favor of finding an entirely new circle of healthy people.

...Except that's also a challenge, because when you leave such pervasive toxicity, you don't have ANY of the skills needed to interact successfully with healthy people, and as a result, most of them will find you insufferable, because they don't understand why you are the way you are; how can they? Most healthy people have no idea what it's like to be steeped in generational systems of abuse that are designed to keep you locked in perpetual fear and servitude to whomever your brain is conditioned to recognize as "in charge".

...For a long time, the person that my brain recognized as basically "god" was my mother. I depended on her for everything, because she kept me tied down with all her unrealistic expectations of me in order to make sure I didn't have any real freedom - though I don't think that this was conscious on her part. Nonetheless, my mother abused the power dynamic between us, threatening to send me back to my father's house to get hurt whenever I didn't live up to whatever she wanted from me at any given time. In a situation like this where mother says vile, horrific shit like "bomb the desert until it's glass" and "don't ever date a black man", and disagreeing will make you fall out of favor enough to be put in literal physical danger... you agree with what mother says. OR ELSE.

...In those days, I didn't have another frame of reference outside of the abuse I suffered at my father's house, and as far as I was concerned, my mother was the one who deigned to "save" me from that awful place, so I eagerly tried to lap up everything she said and incorporate it into my brain as though she is the Supreme Authority on Everything and The Super Smartest Person Ever. I was conditioned to believe that I owed her unconditional obedience and agreement with everything she says and does in return for the fact that she gave me food, a place to sleep, and clothing. I imagine you went through basically the same thing with all the bullshit and lies you were fed at Shinra. I imagine you were made to feel like a burden, and that you had to make up for it, or something similar.

...I'm glad I know better now. There's still so much that I'm trying to unlearn. But still... I'm extremely lucky to have escaped AT ALL. I'm extremely lucky to have found people who were patient enough with me to teach me new things and to help cleanse my brain of the nasty, racist, sexist, bigoted, nationalistic shit that was forced into my ears and down my throat. I'm extremely lucky that they kept persisting with doing that, even when I was fool enough to resist their efforts to help me.

...The people who are still bigoted are people who have not yet been able to escape. And the reasons for that are simple. Lots of people who come from situations like mine have it ground into their skulls that anyone outside of the known social group hates you and wants to destroy you (this is projection at its finest). And so you're given a choice - oppose your known social group and have them AND the outside world hate you, or keep your head down, don't make waves, and agree with the status quo.

...I've already covered the notion in previous letters that most people would rather be dead than be considered unlovable by their known social group. And so for a lot of people trapped in situations like mine, the choice seems clear, because from the inside of that situation, it doesn't look like there's really a choice at all.

The other part of this equation is the application of violence whenever you're considered "in the wrong". And so people from situations like mine, often enough, will get defensive and dig their heels in when they're called out on their shit, because they've been conditioned to expect to receive rejection, emotional violence, or even physical violence whenever someone thinks they're in the wrong in some way. So the strategy most often used is to try, frantically, to prove that they don't deserve to be hit, as opposed to seeing a different perspective and changing their minds. A frightened brain cannot learn or absorb new information efficiently!! This is important!!

...Also, for lots of people in situations like mine, there isn't anyone to teach you anything; there are only people who will hurt you for being wrong. And so by the time you get out of that kind of horrifying gauntlet, you get out into the real world outside of your cult-like social circle, and you can't imagine that people aren't going to try to crush your skull into the floor (metaphorically or literally) for disagreeing with them.

Imagining being taught gently instead of simply being punished until you "get it right", after living in a situation like mine for a long time, is kind of like trying to imagine sticking your bare hand on a red-hot stove and not getting burned. Such a thing is unthinkable, right? And it applies to everything - EVERYTHING. And this is part of the reason why some folks get really uptight about receiving ANY kind of constructive criticism, suggestions, or feedback on anything at all.

Think about it. You take a small white child raised in a house that hates black people, and the child goes to school and meets little black children, makes friends with them and realizes, "hey, there's nothing actually wrong with black children," because obviously. Then the child goes home to tell his family, and the child is either gonna get hit a lot, or they're gonna get some equivalent of, "Well, then you're no fucking child of mine! Get away from me you morally repugnant filth!"

...There's not a whole lot that the child can do in this scenario except agree. He can run to school and tell his teacher, but teaching your child bigotry isn't outlawed here, and even physical abuse is hard to prove, and the foster care system here often leads to even worse outcomes. Even if the child is believed by the school staff, often the best that happens is the child's parents get talked to. And then once that happens, and the family realizes the child tattled... well. The child is gonna get hurt. A lot. Don't ask how I know; you don't wanna know the answer.

So the child spends their whole life psychically self-mutilating in order to survive in their environment, trying to suit the social rules so they don't get ostracized and abused. And then the child becomes an adult and gets out to "the really real world", as my mother used to like to call it. This child - now an adult - wasn't taught how to deal with big emotions; they were taught to numb out via dissociation, workaholism, risky behavior, or substance abuse.

...So they meet new people and they get confronted with the fact that everything they were taught by the people who were supposed to love them and care for them is wrong. Just flat-out wrong. The adult child now has to contend with the notion that they've twisted themselves up into pretzels trying to suit their adult overlords for NOTHING. It was all done IN VAIN. And this comes with a hefty dose of grieving - grieving that they don't know how to fucking do because they weren't taught how to do it, because the rule in houses like these is, "fuck you and fuck your stupid little fucking feelings". So they get stuck in some of the first stages of that grief - shock and denial. Emphasis on the denial.

Add in the fact that children from situations like mine are often taught that they're fundamentally bad and a pain in the ass, and therefore they owe their parents for putting a roof over their head and food in their stomach and clothes on their back. Fuck, in houses like the one I grew up in, the notion is that you owe your parents for the simple fact that they even allow you to exist at all. Disrespect in this context is absolutely fucking unacceptable, and disagreeing with ANYTHING taught to you by your parents is considered MASSIVE disrespect. Add in the anticipation of punishment for disagreement to the mix. The result is terror.

...Then add in the fact that people from situations like mine often get conditioned to believe that those outside of the known social group are morally inferior, terrible, awful people who are not to be trusted. So from here - do you go with the beliefs fed to you by the people you feel you owe everything to and feel are the only ones who will ever love you? Or do you consider the new perspective brought in by the "outsider"? Most people are unable to choose the second option, and it doesn't have anything to do with them being "bad people" or "weak-willed".

Factor in all these things, and try to understand WHY it's so difficult for folks from situations like mine to change their mind about ANYTHING. And it SUCKS, because... there are a lot of people who could be helped just like how I was helped. Bigotry is not the natural state of a human; it shows up as a result of being steeped in it since childhood and being conditioned to believe that your options are either to believe in the bigotry or face a hostile world alone.

...M's grandmother didn't escape before her death. And that's really sad, because she was, as far as I could tell, an otherwise kind and loving person who always tried to do the right thing. It's just... she grew up and lived for a long time in a situation in which she was misguided about "the right thing", because the version of "the right thing" that she was taught is dependent on the notion that the "inferiors" must suffer.

...I know how I was helped to escape from all this shit. I'm still trying to think of a way to make it so everyone can escape. I want everyone to be able to recover from the shit they were taught as children. I want every single neurotype (yes, even those neurotypes with problems with the portions of the brain responsible for empathy!) to have the support an infrastructure they need to succeed. I want everyone to be happy and to thrive. And I know we can build a world like that. It's just... I'm not smart enough to know how to replicate what was done for me on a mass scale. And also... the way it will work will necessarily have to be different for each human, because we all come from different childhoods and different walks of life, and we all have different brains. I'm not fool enough to think that what worked for me will work for everyone.

...Sometimes I look at the state of things - all the beautiful people hurting and killing each other - and for what??? And... I don't know what to do. I want everyone to keep existing, but I don't want anyone to have to suffer senselessly. It's a great big huge mess with lots of moving parts, and I get daunted and depressed if I stare at it for too long.

In any case, we're home now. We were out for a long time. I rested for a little while, and then I went through the photos and selected the 30 best ones, and then I started writing whatever popped into my head, and suddenly it's almost time for bed already. Whoops.

I'm a little tired from having had to be in the presence of M's parents (there are reasons for this; maybe I'll explain another time...), and I'm not ready for tomorrow to start tomorrowing. But the passage of time keeps happening even when I don't want it to. Oh well. I'll try to make the best of it. Maybe I'll find something fun to do.

Sephiroth. Maybe you heard the songs I put up at the top and found them relatable. But you gotta remember that you're not a weapon or a machine. You're a man - a squishy mammal - and you've got choices and you can do good things with those choices. Even when it looks like you don't have choices, you still have choices. If you don't know what those choices are, ask someone who is further along with the healing than you. I can help you a little in that regard. And so can Angeal and Zack, I'm sure. J and M also know a lot. And so do most of the people in my current social circle. You can count on any of us.

It's never "you are who you are and that's all there is to it". No one is born bad. No one is "designed that way". You can't remove the mistakes you've made or take back the damage you've caused in the past, but you can always learn from these things and try not to repeat them moving forward. And you can do that, even if the people you've hurt can't forgive you.

Your goodness as a person and your capacity to grow from past things is not defined by whether or not the people you've wronged can forgive you. These things are defined solely by the effort you're willing to put in, because nothing is ever set in stone. Brains are plastic and malleable. All destructive learned behaviors can be unlearned, given the right infrastructure and support.

The dreams of a normal life you had as a boy are not things that "can't ever be". You just have to be open to the possibility, and to make choices that will lead you towards that dream. You've got lots and lots of people who will help you along the way; you don't have to do it alone. You've got plenty of shoulders to cry on - at least 3, which is a lot more than what most have!!

As for what you're "supposed to be", that's also easy - you're supposed to be someone who eases suffering and brings beauty and light and love to the world in all the ways that only you know how to do. And that's it. That's all anyone is supposed to be. It doesn't matter how you came to be; you know what Mewtwo says - "The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." And it is true. What will you do with your gift?

You can change your destiny. You and lots of others have helped me to change mine. Maybe things didn't turn out in the typical way for you, and maybe the path forward seems hazy, but you can still make your own history; I am documenting the process of making mine with each letter I write to you.

Continue. Continue finding the best and most loving way forward, even when you don't know what it is, because you're more resilient than you think you are. The work of recovery is difficult and long and arduous, but it's worth it. It's so worth it. And waiting for you on the other side of it, when you're ready, are the hands and arms of countless people who love you - not for what you can do, not for the power you wield, and not for what you look like, but for who you are. For the person inside your heart. For the way you think and feel and react to things.

I'll be waiting for you to return to us, singing little lullabies as I always do. Because we miss you, and we're looking forward to seeing you again.

I love you. Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll write again tomorrow. I'm not ready for tomorrow, but I'm gonna try to make something good out of it anyways. I hope you'll do the same.

Your friend, Lumine

[hauntingofhouses]

i think fandoms can be soooo ridiculous a lot of the time (see: all the nonsensical fan wars, discourse, etc) but i cannot understate how much i actually love fandoms.

like yeah it may be super nerdy and even cringe and outsiders look at it like "why tf do you care about these fictional characters so much?"

but 1) my field is literally..... literary studies..... in which all i do is study fiction and analyse it like an insane person, and 2) even if that WASN'T my field, thinking about the stories we consume is important even for any person to do, because thinking about stories exercises our brain to think critically!! why do you think our ancestors used stories as a medium to share knowledge, to propagate moral values and lessons? stories—telling them, thinking about what they're saying, and caring about the characters within them—are all inherent to the human experience!!!

so that brings me to fandom. because we are literally just making these little communities with each other based on our shared love for a particular story, and for a particular character or theme within them that resonated with us, or whatever. we're all here because we loved a thing so much that we built connections from it!!!

like yeah my irl friends laugh at me when i tell them i write fanfic, cuz ha ha what a nerd what a loser etc, but dude. i made genuine real friendships from fandom alone. from just obsessing over two characters we thought were cute together, we've gone to sending each other gifts and postcards and having voice calls and confiding in each other and sharing parts of us and our personal lives and our cultures (cuz we're all from different countries) with each other! like now i don't even share a fandom with most of my old fandom friends anymore but we still stick by each other and that's amazing???

also like, i cannot emphasise enough how amazing and encouraging it is to share your craft (art/writing/etc) with others in fandom. because for example if i make my own personal art or write my own original work, i'd have no one to share it to, no one interested to see it, and thus no one will be there to provide feedback or encouragement.

but if i post a piece of fan art or fanfic, people actually do see the work i post and care about the craft and the content it's depicting and even share their thoughts on it and that ??? is so motivating and lovely ??? because even though i make art for myself, art is still meant to be shared and seen at the end of the day—even if only with one person. so to be given the means of sharing our art in such a way, to have such a community that fosters so much creativity, it's amazing. i don't really get that anywhere else.

and especially to have this in like, a casual setting, you know, where you can just be yourself and do things according to your own time and energy without the pretenses of professionalism and a perfectly curated resume or portfolio, and all the confines of a rigid work schedule, which would all make the process of creation less fun and less genuine, and instead just more taxing and chore-like.

because fandom is essentially meant to be about doing what's fun for you! it's about sharing your creations and enjoying what others share with you. you make friends and you go ham with it.

and also it's why it's more frustrating when people take things too seriously and legitimately get upset over assumptions of other people's beliefs and hold the most minor grievances that could only be felt if you're like, chronically online.

but on that note, there are definitely still honest-to-god bad people in fandom spaces too (see: racists, TERFS, homophobes, groomers, harassers, etc). but that's the case with all communities, because bad people are always going to exist, and thus statistically speaking, the bigger a group or community is, higher chances are there's gonna be some awful people in there. but honestly that is its own can of worms and also that's not what this post is about, but i felt it necessary to address because i don't want to paint fandom as like, the best thing ever in the world, because fandom spaces are incredibly flawed, as everything is.

but i've always been one to appreciate things despite its flaws. and though this may be very personal to me, when i love things so much, i am still willing to stick around and try to change the culture around it in the ways that i can (like promoting internet safety measures, creating safe spaces for thoughtful and polite discussion, raising awareness on harmful stereotypes and fandom depictions or opinions, etc).

so regardless of the bullshit that online fandom spaces tend to perpetuate, i do very much still love the way that fandom allows me to connect with folks over something as silly as our little blorbos, and from there end up making life-long friends, or at the very least new acquaintances. insert reinforcement of my thesis statement about stories fostering human connection here. the end. send post.

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki X afab!Reader

Sypnosis: MC returns to her home country for a two-month vacation, excited to reunite with her childhood friends. She saw how much they changed — having already married and had children. It's only a matter of time before her lingering feelings for someone must be told.

Word Count: 3,410

Listen to your heart, when he's calling for you

Here it is. The most waited time of my life. I can now return to my home country and meet my old friends again. You were excited to return home from your work abroad. You are inside the plane, waiting for the plane to land, and in the meantime, you look out from the window at the beautiful scenery of your place. Though you were just given a 2-month vacation, it was a perfect chance to have fun with your friends before you resume your work. You wonder if they changed a lot after all those years. Of course, you also changed into a beautiful young woman. But the thing that you want is if they already had children, especially your best friends, Hinata, Ino, Sakura, and Tenten. And you wonder who married or caught Sasuke first, Sakura or Ino. You laughed at the thought.

As the plane landed, you can't contain the excitement. You are ready to leave and waiting for the pilot to say they can now exit the plane. You hurriedly sprinted outside the big flying vehicle and went to the port where your friends were waiting. After you got your baggage, you let a smile creep on your face as you exited the port. And there you saw them waving at you, your smile grew wider as you felt really really excited. You ran in their direction and gave your best friends a big tight hug. "I'm back!" You said happily. They all chuckled.

"Welcome home! We miss you!" They chorused. The five of you broke the hug and you looked at the males, Kiba, Shino, Choji, Shikamaru, Neji, Lee, and Sasuke were there, but you didn't see the blonde. You noticed that they all changed, the girls were more beautiful and the boys became handsome. "Welcome back [Name]..." Choji greeted as he munched on his cracker. "You never stop eating" You chuckled. "Here, I'll handle this" Lee grabbed the baggage from you and carry it by himself. "Thanks, Lee" You thanked him, and he just blushed slightly and nodded.

"Come on, let's go and celebrate your arrival," Kiba said then ruffled his hair. "Oh come on, you men didn't welcome [Name] properly on her arrival," Ino said, Kiba just shrugged. After your arrival, they went to their favorite ramen shop, the Ichiraku Ramen. You guys had fun while going there, talking some stuff about the [h/l] [h/c]-colored female's job and her relationship. "So, [Name]. You still don't have a boyfriend yet?" Sakura asked rather mischievously as she looked at you with a smirk. "Ah, eh... I still have none" You sweat-dropped.

"Aw... Too bad, some of us already had" Ino said. You looked at them as well with the boys, Kiba had his look of 'What's with us?'. "Really?" You raised one eyebrow as you looked back at the girls. "Yup!" Tenten replied happily. "I already had Sasuke-kun," Sakura said proudly as Ino rolled her eyes at her but smiled. "Oh? So Sakura won the contest?" You smirked. They laughed. "Yeah, but I already had a husband, I haven't introduced you to him yet" Ino stated then smiled. "Tenten-san is the wife of Neji-niisan" Hinata said shyly with a low voice.

Tenten blushed. "H-Hinata!" She stammered. The boys don't seem to be bothered by all the lovey-dovey of the girls and you, and you noticed this. "Oh? How about you, Shikamaru? Do you already have a wife?" The young adult asked the spiky male. "Temari was my wife and we already had a son. His name is Shikadai" Shikamaru replied to the girl's question. You turned to Choji while he was eating and he noticed your stare and looked at you. 

"Hm...?" Choji asked as he continued eating his ramen. "Who's your wife by now, Choji?" You asked him with a smile. "My wife's name is Karui and we had a daughter named Chocho. She so cute" Choji replied with a smile plastered on his face. "Oh... I forgot! Naruto wasn't here, right?" Ino said and looked at all of you, now your heart pounded rapidly. "Naruto-kun wasn't with us when we went to the airport to greet [Name]-san on her arrival" Hinata informed the group.

"How about we call him to join us? We still have time to celebrate [Name]'s arrival and we will stay here for a while" Sakura said then grabbed her phone out from her sling bag. She dialed Naruto's number and put the phone on her ear, he waited for him to answer but he didn't pick his phone up. "Weird, Naruto usually answers his phone," Sakura said as she looked at her phone. "Maybe he's busy. Let's call him later" You told her. "Naruto has never been busy. When it comes to celebrations like this, he's always present" Shino said. You looked down at your food and then frowned.

"Don't be so down [Name]-san. We're going to visit Naruto-kun later" Hinata cheered you up, and you smiled. The gang and you finished eating for an hour, Ino told the boys that they can go home and thanked them for accompanying you and the girls. They went straight home, carrying your baggage with them. Then, the girls and you went to the mall. "We don't have to do this, you know," You told them while walking. "We have to, [Name]-san. It's your arrival, after all. We have to keep you happy from now on" Hinata smiled.

You smiled back. It's true, you have to experience happiness too. But the only problem is, the blonde didn't come. The one that you liked since you were still a child, attending the academy where the two of you met. He was very troublesome when he was little, he was always being scold by your teacher, Iruka. In contrast to that, he was very kind and helpful. Like when you were being bullied in the academy by other boys, he always come to your aid. And that's the reason you found your crush on him.

You always watch him, his actions, and his behaviors in the academy. He always wanted to become stronger than Sasuke, but in the end, he was always the loser. But you don't care about that, at least he had a goal, perseverance, and determination. And that's what you love about him. He can be an idiot, but he has a big heart. You love the blonde that was known as Naruto Uzumaki. He was your inspiration, the one who helped you improve.

His parents are very kind, when you first come to visit at his house, his mother treated you like her own child. They always thought that you were Naruto's childhood love, which made Naruto very embarrassed when they tease him. After that first visit, he would always invite you to stay in his house. You sometimes had an overnight at his place when the two of you grew older. The two of you were called the best of friends. But that doesn't mean that Naruto would stop challenging Sasuke every day, that his crush on Sakura will fade even though she's in love with Sasuke, and that Hinata's feelings for him will vanish.

Those things doesn't break your friendship with him actually, but things were worse when the two of you were 16. You were very sickly when you were younger, and you would be sent to the hospital at least thrice a week. And this made your parents and your classmates very worried, at one time, you almost died because of your sickness. The others even cried because you were confined one time, especially the girls.

You didn't attend school for 3 months and missed a lot of studies. After you recover from your illness, your parents decide that you will start home-schooling because it will be easy enough to track your health. Your teacher approves of this, but, you don't want to leave your friends, especially Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke, Hinata, Kiba, Shino, Ino, Choji, Shikamaru, Tenten, Lee, and Neji. They were the best friends that you made during childhood.

As you started home-school, your parents would check on you every hour. They rented teachers to teach you at home, and it became better. At home, your health is checked, and you can still learn. It's a double win, if I will say. But you lost your friends in exchange for that. And that made you very sad and depressed. You know that home-schooling is a good idea, and you have agreed to this, but in contrast to that, you don't want to be separated from your friends.

During the night, you would cry yourself to sleep because of the solitude that you had during that time. And because of that, they once visit you at home. It was unexpected, your mother didn't have time to prepare food for them, but they brought some when they came. You were more than happy just to meet your friends again, just like now.

You still remember those happy times when you were with them, and now, you were. Although a certain someone is missing, and that's the reason why you're going to visit him later. "So... What do you think of this dress, [Name]?" Sakura's voice snapped you out of your trance. "Huh? What? Sorry, I wasn't listening..." You smiled sheepishly and scratched your temple. She sighed. "Somehow, you didn't change for a bit..." She stated as she put the cloth down.

"Hey! I changed a lot, you know!" You retorted back at her. "I don't see the difference. You still had your [h/l] [h/c] hair of yours, unlike us... Sakura's hair had become smooth and had soft edges, unlike her teenage self," Tenten said as she touched the pink female's hair. "Ino's hair had become longer and her bangs became long too. Hinata's hair was cut and mine grew a little bit longer" She added, you sighed. "Well, physically, I didn't change much, but you know that I changed emotionally and mentally, right?" You replied.

"I think so" Hinata answered, you sweat-dropped. "Okay, fine..." You muttered to yourself. The girls gifted you some things that you would need during your 2-month stay in Japan, which are make-ups, dresses, a new pair of jeans, a new pair of shorts, a lots of shoes and heels, gowns, t-shirts, jackets, and other things. You hate to say no to your friends when they offer you the stuffs, which will offend them. But you don't want their money to be wasted just for you.

After the shopping, you part ways with them. You plan to visit a shop to buy a needed thing, it is a red yarn. You wanted to gift Naruto a red scarf to replace his old and destroyed one. It was when the two of you were younger, you were always being bullied by other boys. One winter day, you were just walking to the place you usually go, but they saw you and started to bully you. You were known to be the child of the most popular authors in Japan.

When they bullied you, Naruto was near and sat on a swing. He came to your aid and then helped you, but he got beaten instead. And they tore his scarf, you offered yours but he declined and ran away. You just wanted to thank him for that time and plan to knit him a new one.

After you bought the things you needed, you went straight to Naruto's home with the stuffs the girls bought for you. You rode in a taxi and it is already evening when you arrived there. You arrived at his apartment and then rang the doorbell, a loud 'Wait a minute!' answered and suddenly, he opened the door. Once he opened the door, his eyes widened to see you standing in front of his home. The two of you stared at each other for a while and then you smiled.

That made him snap out of his thoughts. "Sorry, come in. I'll carry these" He apologized then grabbed the bags from your hands as you went inside. The touch lasted for a second but it still made you blush like an idiot. When you went inside, you sat on the couch as he closed the door and then placed the bags on the table. "So... What brings you here?" He muttered his question, not looking at you. "I just arrived earlier here in Japan, and then we had lunch at Ichiraku. When we noticed that you didn't come along, I came here" You explained.

"Oh... Sorry for not coming, I was busy" He apologized. "That's fine, but Sakura called you on the phone, and you didn't answer," You told him and looked at his figure. "I set my phone to silent because I don't want to be disturbed" Naruto replied then went inside the kitchen."Oh... So busy that you didn't come to meet me when I arrived?" You asked him again. "Yeah... Sorry," He apologized once again. "That's fine, at least I meet you again" You smiled.

He made 2 tea, one for him and one for you. He placed the cup on the coffee table and you thanked him. He sat on the couch next to the one you were sitting on and drank his tea. "What's with bags?" He asked. "Oh, that? That's what the girls gifted me for my arrival" You laughed, remembering how stubborn they are to waste their money just for you. "Huh? Why are you laughing?" Naruto looked at you and raised his brow. You looked away from him when you instantly made contact with his eyes, blushing.

"So... You've grown differently, Naruto. I've always thought that your hair will be like your father's, but it isn't" You compliment him as you drink your tea. "Yeah, but I decided to cut my hair short" He replied. Then the two of you looked at each other and then smiled. It's been years since the last the two of you saw each other, and it took you 2 hours inside his house, playing and chatting. It's already 8 in the evening, and Naruto escorted you back to your home.

"Thanks for accompanying me, Naruto" You thanked him as the two of you arrived in front of your house. "No problem" He smiled. You went inside the gate, opened the door, and then got the bags from Naruto. "See you tomorrow!" He smiled and then ran outside, you waved at him and then closed the door. You noticed that the baggage was inside. They really placed my baggage inside the house, eh? I should really need to retrieve the keys to my house from them.

It's already 2 months since [Name]'s vacation in Japan, she also knit Naruto's scarf during those months, and now, it's finished. A red scarf just for him, a sign of love. "Hey! [Name]!" A loud call on you made you awake from your peaceful sleep. You groaned as you rolled over the bed, hitting your face on the cold hard floor. "Ouch!" You screamed inside your bedroom, loud enough to make them hear outside. "Geez... Wake up already [Name]!" Sakura shouted.

"I guess that they will not stop bothering me unless I wake up..." You muttered to yourself, face still planted on the floor. Then, you decided to fix yourself. They plan to have a hang-out with you again. It's the final day, you are going to leave later 5 pm. You go out of your room to have a quick bath and then changed your clothes into [f/c] T-shirt and black denims. You brush your hair and let it down for a while. After that, you went down the stairs then got the keys and your bag from the table, exited the house, and locked the doors.

"Wow! You are pretty fast when you make someone wait" Shikamaru said, you just grinned. Once you went out, you noticed that Naruto was with them. "I got this lazy one out of his house just for you," Sakura said as she pointed to Naruto, he just looked away with a blush. "That's nice," You said. "Yeah, let's go," Hinata said and then you went walking along with them.

Your destination was a mall, yet again. Once you and the others entered inside, they dragged you to a restaurant for you to eat breakfast. You didn't have time to eat because you were in a hurry earlier. After that, you go shopping with them, window shop, then play some games. It was almost noon, and they decided to take you home so that you could carry your baggage and then head straight to the airport. Once you arrive back home, you fix your things,  leaving some unneeded things, and carry the ones you want to have with you.

It was already 4:45, only minutes left to go to the airport. They accompanied you to the airport as Lee carried your baggage again. Once you were there, they bid goodbye. "So... Don't forget our souvenirs, [Name]" Tenten said to you as she hugged you. "Alright," You replied. "We will miss you," Ino said then hugged her too. "Bye [Name], and don't forget to buy Shikadai's request," Shikamaru said, you smiled. "Sure, if it's for your cute son, I'll do it" You replied.

"I will buy a new dress for your daughter, Choji. Don't worry" You told him, he nodded. "I'm gonna buy you guys the best gifts to thank you all for all the things you did for me while I'm here. Bye!" You smiled and then waved at them as you walked away. They waved back, but you heard a loud 'Wait!' then turned around. "Naruto...?" You muttered, confused. He ran up to you and then hugged you tightly. "Sorry. And thank you for the scarf you gave me earlier" He said.

"You're welcome, but why are you apologizing?" You asked him and he broke the hug. "When I heard the news that you returned here in Japan, I was excited to meet you. But I was also depressed because of the news that you got sick while working. That you were hospitalized for one month, I was afraid to lose you again. And when you visited me at my house, I was glad that you're okay. The only reason I didn't come with the others to wait for your arrival is because I don't know how to welcome you. I was afraid that you would not recognize me and already had another" He confessed.

"So you're saying that you thought I already had a boyfriend other than you?" You asked him, and he nodded slightly. You sent him a smile after that. "Naruto you idiot. You know that you are the only one I love. I am also scared that if you marry Hinata or some other girl. Everyone almost had children and spouses, you know" You laughed slightly. "I just don't know what might happen if you leave, I wanted you to be by my side all the times" He hugged you again.

"Don't worry, I'll visit again" You said then took a quick peek at his lips then the two of you broke apart. "Thank you for everything, Naruto!" You waved at him and smiled, and he waved back. Once your figure disappeared from his sight, he cried silently. Tears fell down his face while standing there.

Listen to your heart, before... You tell him goodbye.

[echthr0s]

tagged by @longeyelashedtragedy

1. Do you make your bed? Absolutely not. I also sit on my bed during the day, but even if I didn't I never really saw the point. Also, in my opinion a bed should have a chance to air out when it's not being used.

2. Favourite number? Nine and nineteen. Mainly nineteen, for Reasons. Those are the two numbers I use whenever I need a number for literally anything.

3. What's your job? Full-time dilettante, desire deity, and begrudging PR agent for the Earth-facing facet of the Laudarant Configuration.

4. If you could go back to school would you? Much like the person who tagged me, I am not at all suited for a school environment. I do love to learn and I could even love to learn in a small group setting with likeminded individuals (this would be nice for stuff like languages, which kind of requires the social element), but school is not for me. I do like it when other people go to school and then tell me all the stuff they learned, though. I get all the benefit and none of the bullshit!

5. Can you parallel park? Of the very few things I know about driving, how to parallel park is not one of them. And no, I am not at all interested, it seems awful. Driving in general seems awful, in this country in this day and age. Proud to be a passenger/pubtrans princess ✊🏿

6. Do you think aliens are real? Do I think life exists on at least one other planet? lmao of fucking course, like... statistically speaking, the math maths Do I think it's life like in Mars Attacks or The Day The Earth Stood Still or the MCU or whatever? Most likely not. But I also believe in the multiverse, which is immensely more complex of a concept than just the idea of sapient life on another planet in the same universe, so... you know, maybe. Maybe!

7. Can you drive a manual car? See #5.

8. Guilty pleasure? Guilt? In my me? It's not as likely as you think. Or likely at all.

9. Tattoos? The number 19 in Roman numerals with a spider on my wrist, the Mannaz rune on the back of my hand, and "scully, it's me" on the inside of my elbow. All on my right arm.

10. Favourite colour? Yellow. Pink is a close second. Really, I think they just share the first place spot, because I do what I want.

11. Favourite type of music? Metal is technically my favourite genre, since so many bands and songs I love fall under that umbrella. But there's so much music out there that gets me that it feels restrictive and reductive to just name a favourite genre and leave all those other ones out in the rain. I have no idea how to answer this question otherwise, though! My favourite type of music is my favourite type of music. You know?

12. Do you like puzzles? I like jigsaw puzzles and logic puzzles (not nearly as good at these as I was as a child, but they're still fun) and fill-ins (constructed like a crossword but instead of solving clues to find out what the words are, you're given the words themselves and have to figure out where in the puzzle they fit) and... that's about it, really. When I'm playing a video game, I hate puzzles, lmao. They're always so annoying (at best).

13. Any phobias? None.

14. Favourite childhood sport? I did not enjoy participating in sports, ever, but my favourite sport to watch when I was a child was figure skating. In fact, it still is. But I was super autistic about it back then, when I didn't know what masking was and wasn't bogged down with adult nonsense.

15. Do you talk to yourself? Occasionally, but mostly I talk to Can Calah and whomever else is hanging around in the Configuration. To other people, that'd just look like I'm talking to myself, so I guess it counts by way of perception.

16. What movies do you adore? laughing about the fact that prev said "I'm not a huge movies person" and then went on to name about 25 movies (I understand, it's just funny)

I am a huge movies person and I have a Letterboxd account, so here are all the movies I've hit the "Like" button on (my highest honour): Liked Films There are a few on there that are outdated, like I watched them in like 2014 and loved them then but I probably wouldn't feel the same way now (like, I see Chappie on there and I'm like "hm. really?" it's probably fun and all but I can't imagine it's Like worthy :V), but mostly it's accurate.

17. Tea or coffee? Tea. I do enjoy coffee, I just find tea to be the superior beverage.

18. First thing you wanted to be growing up? how on earth would I remember this 💀 I do remember wanting to be an environmentalist when I was a middle schooler, though. I used to badger my father about recycling batteries and shit like that.

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on the Last Nintendo Direct for the Switch?

It was alright. A lot of people are very excited by what was shown but, I dunno.

A lot of modern Mario RPGs are pretty hit-or-miss, so Brothership isn't necessarily an instant win for me.

Nintendo World Championship could be interesting. It's probably a better take on the NES Remix idea than previous games, and the way they're doing online multiplayer could prove to be pretty cool. It's a shame it isn't live, but I suppose racing against ghosts means you don't have to worry about latency.

The thing is, with both NES Remix and this, I also want the option to just... play the full versions of these games. No timers, no competitions, just the raw games. But Nintendo's not going to do that. They'd also rather have you subscribe to their NSO service, too.

Fantasian is mostly interesting to me for the fact that a lot of the backgrounds are effectively pre-rendered -- but not using CGI. They apparently made realworld dioramas using actual model making material and photographed them. That's cool. The rest of the game seems like generic JRPG fluff.

I've tried over and over to like Donkey Kong Country Returns, both on the Wii and the 3DS, and it just rubs me the wrong way. I've said it's something weird with the controls feeling sluggish, but I think it's also the level design. It feels like it stretches some of its ideas pretty thin. Like we did not need a whole world dedicated to minecart levels. I'd hope the DKCR remaster is the version I'd finally enjoy, but I don't have my hopes up.

It's cool to see the "HD-2D" Dragon Quest games, at last. Those old phone versions they have on the Switch are awful. But also the only DQ game I've ever connected with was the demo for DQ8, so I dunno how much this tickles my fancy. But I've also never given a real one of these games a chance.

Hearing "timed exclusive for the Nintendo Switch" for Denpa Men is weird, given that was a 3DS game. I always thought it was first party. Is this also coming out on PS4? PC? Very strange.

Glad to hear about the Marvel Vs. Collection. I was just scrolling through my XBLA library on my 360 a few days ago and lamenting how I only own MvC2 and not MvC1, even though I like MvC1 better. Weird it's apparently only coming out for last gen; there aren't native PS5/SX versions of this or the Ace Attorney Collection. Just PS4/Xbone/Switch. With backwards compatibility I guess they don't have to bother with a native version, but still. Weird.

Zelda looks good and is a long time coming but I wish it wasn't so different. Like I have faith it'll be interesting but it does disappoint me it's going to be more puzzle-y and not an action game. After so many years of asking for the ability to play as Zelda, for them to say "well she CAN'T swing a sword like Link!" feels a little compromise-y. I'm sure it'll be fine.

That was not enough Metroid Prime 4. They picked the most unceremonious, least exciting way to show it, too. I actually thought it was them announcing remasters of Prime 2 + 3 like they did with Metroid Prime 1, because it's just generic "shooting nameless space pirates to metroid prime music" footage until the end.

Rewatching it, I can definitely see how people are saying it's a Switch 2 game, though. Like that Metroid Prime remaster seemed like it looked really pretty, but this feels like a step above what the Switch is normally capable of, at least as far as 60fps goes. Like compare for yourself. Prime remastered on the left, Prime 4 on the right.

Look at the ridges in her shoulder panels, and how they're a 3D modeled groove with inset detail in Prime 4. That detail is probably just a texture in the Prime remaster. And just, like, how much better the material work is overall.

I could see this being 1080p 60 on Switch 2 but only 30 on the OG Switch.

Also please show me new guns or mechanics or something next time.

[iambellarose1816]

Moments Like This - Mama Elsa Edition ( Post Frozen AU )

Elsa stared at her 12 year old daughter, Gerda who was staring out her bedroom window, looking at the Northen Lights in awe. She always saw her daughter staring at it, making Elsa wonder what was on her little mind.

Elsa slowly approached her daughter. Gerda had somewhat inherited her ways when she was startled. Elsa's husband, Hans had gone out for a week to deliver stock to one of the neighboring countries since that was his job as Admiral so Elsa had to comfort Gerda alone. She didn't mind though. She wanted some alone time with her daughter.

"Hey Snow drop." Elsa said softly. Gerda turned and smiled warmly at her mother. Gerda had also inherited her ice powers. When the former queen had given birth and Gerda was around 2 years old, her powers started to show.

At first Elsa was scared about how everyone would react to seeing the new princess having inherited her powers, but her husband stood by her through thick and thin. Now the whole country loves Gerda with their hearts. "Hey mommy." Elsa made her way to Gerda and sat down next to her.

"Want to tell me why you've been overthinking lately?" Elsa asked as she placed Gerda's head on her chest to comfort her. Gerda sighed and snuggled against her mother. "What if I am a bad queen?"

The sudden question made Elsa stop stroking her daughter's dirty blonde hair. "That is a long way to ask that question, Sweetheart." Elsa said with a light laugh. Gerda didn't laugh though. Elsa bit her lip at her daughter's seriousness.

"In all seriousness, snow drop, being queen is a big responsibility. The whole country is counting on you, but I highly doubt you'd be a bad queen. If your aunt wants to step down from the throne then it will automatically go to you, but just know only when you turn 21 will you be able to get the throne, right now you just have to enjoy your freedom. Talk to the village kids, make friends." Elsa said happily.

Gerda sighed heavily. Her mother was right. Why was she worrying about this? She didn't know. "Thank you, mommy." Gerda said quietly. Elsa smiled and kissed her daughter's head. "I am here for you if you need anything. Just tell me and I'll be there to support you. Don't think you are alone. You have your father, aunt and uncle here to support you too."

Gerda smiled happily for the first time in a week. She would always put on fake smiles and say that she was okay, but she was the total opposite.

Elsa looked out the window to see the Nothern lights still glowing in the night sky. "Always remember something though and this is a very important lesson: to become a queen, you have to give up playing the princess."

Gerda nodded in understanding. "I will always remember that, thank you, mommy." Gerda said. Elsa smiled and hugged her daughter tightly.

"I love you so much, Gerda." Elsa said as she buried her face in her daughter's soft locks. Gerda snuggled against her mother's chest and smiled.

"I love you too, mom."

One thing's for sure, Gerda felt more connected to her mother than her father. Gerda knew she could tell her mother anything and her mom would keep it a secret.

Elsa always wanted a daughter and she got one. Gerda was smart and knew how to play her cards right. She was always willing to help people which was a trait she obviously got from Elsa.

Hans was proud of both his girls. Hans always spoiled them both with gifts he would get from other countries.

He especially loved to spoil Gerda from the time she entered the world. His favorite way to spoil her was when Elsa would specifically say no to giving her extra dessert, but Hans would sneak her some extra dessert when Elsa was busy doing work or when she retired to their chambers early.

Elsa always knew that she was right for giving him a second chance otherwise he wouldn't have given her such a beautiful gift, their daughter, Gerda.

"Wanna sleep now?" Elsa asked as she saw her daughter's eyes close slowly.

Gerda nodded slowly, too tired to speak. Elsa chuckled softly and helped Gerda to bed. "Sweet dreams, my little snow drop." "Night, mama."

With a kiss being placed on Gerda's head, Elsa walked out of her daughter's room to hers and Hans' room to retire for the night.

[studyblr2015]

can't believe i found this blog after 10 years

and reading through it is somewhat heartwarming. i can see myself going through the motions as the leaving cert progresses through the lens of this blog which is really interesting...

during the leaving cert was the height of my anxiety - i would come into school every day absolutely shaking and my heart would be racing, i used to feel so sick coming in every day. i was going through a very difficult time mentally, that no one in my life knew about - i didn't have a lot of close friends by the end of school, and i absolutely hated change, knowing that the progression between school and adulthood was looming around the corner, and the fear of not finding myself as an adult...

i was disappointed in my LC results, mostly because I knew I wasn't getting into biomedical science. I read over the posts of me coming to terms with it, and pondering if biosciences was the course for me instead. i had actually gotten into medical science in GMIT, but wasn't committed to moving across the country, it would have ruined me. i'm a massive homebird, i needed familiarity in the stage of change in my life. most people were excited to move away from home, while i wanted to nest for eternity.

after humming and hawing, i accepted biosciences in DIT!

of which i left after 2 days.

i knew it wasn't right, i hated commuting to dublin and my contact hours for college were far too intense for someone travelling, when i walked into the classroom, my gut told me to leave. i was so disappointed with myself, i hated that i couldn't get to grips with college. im also a very shy person (initially!) so going to college in dublin was absolutely not for me. i was so nervous. i left, and proceeded to work for the year, which did me wonders. i needed to be in a somewhat adult space and figure myself out, outside of my circle and way beyond my comfort zone. i worked in a nightclub which forced me to socialize, i started dating my first serious boyfriend (another learning experience...!) i moved out, i made friends, i drank, i started smoking (lol!! not the best way to deal with anxiety, but it still does work, unfortunately), and started to feel more "adult-y".

I had made up my mind, and it was going against my heart, but my head knew it was right. Biosciences was also available in a college ten minutes away from me, in ITC (or SETU Carlow as it's now known...) I still had my heart set on science, it was my passion and I knew I'd be well able for it. I HATED, and i mean truly hated, this college with a passion, until i stepped in the doors on the first day. i felt at home instantly, i knew it was right, i was settling immediately (even though i was still initially very, very nervous and shy, i loved my classes and the community aspect of it).

So, after a long, long 5 years (I repeated final year, as covid had hit in my final year, and with my absolutely abysmal organizational skills and detest for at home lectures), I graduated with a 1.1 in biosciences with biopharmaceuticals, and headed on my merry way.

I got some work experience in a small pharma company in Kilkenny, hated it due to how awful some of the people were (and these people actually work in the same network as me at the moment, which is INCREDIBLY surprising given their attitude and absolute lack of GMP skills, but that sure does work in an office setting sometimes) and left even when i was offered to stay on. I was slightly disillusioned, until I finally found my way into my absolute dream job - just a short distance away from my home and college, my ideal role in a microbiology lab... it was a dream come true, and im still living it!

I'm just 3 years into my role now, and it's enabled me to flourish - through my work I got a permanent role after starting as a contractor, working on a brand new site project in the same role which has been stressful, but SO much fun at the same time, learning my niches, and loving the structure of the work, it suits me down to the ground.

Life is good, and it's not all about the LC! (Although my instinct is still to be a journalist and write opinion pieces in the Independent, but that dream can be tucked away into bed for a little while, after reading back this grammar-challenged word vomit, I wouldn't say I'm a worthy contender... :D)

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[butterflydm]

wot reread: new spring (chapter 5-12)

spoilers through knife of dreams/new spring

1. During Moiraine and Siuan’s turn at taking names, we have Moiraine hesitating over how to calm the unruly crowd of women, while Siuan immediately takes charge and gets them to behave themselves. Siuan future leader vibes, for sure (which we also got earlier, with Moiraine noting how some might find it surprising that, out of the two of them, Siuan was the one who led and Moiraine the one who followed).

2. Despite being a noble, Horsegirl!Moiraine has watched horse breeding and helped during foaling (another thing she and Rand could have bonded over!). She can’t help being a horsegirl. But she is baffled at trying to guess the age of the human babies in front of her. Could be a few days! Could be two months! Who knows, really! lol

3.  We get a moment here of Siuan and Moiraine balancing the line between extending sympathy and care to people who need it (giving the 100 gold bounty to a woman whose child is several months old but the woman is clearly starving and whose husband died early in the war) while not letting people who are simply greedy take advantage of them. It makes Moiraine smile when Siuan compliments her over how she handles the situation (moment #12).

4. After the break for lunch, we get the arrival of two Aes Sedai: a woman named Meilyn Arganya, who is very respected, and, to Moiraine’s shock, she is accompanied by Elaida. Elaida hasn’t been entirely gone from the Tower the last three years -- she has visited from time to time to confer with the Amrylin. Hmm, I wonder if Tamra knew about Elaida’s Foretelling about the Royal House of Andor being key in the Last Battle? Elaida does seem genuinely invested in Moiraine and Siuan. She’s just, you know, an awful person and thus shows her interest in ways that dismay and horrify said objects of her interest.

5. When Elaida sniffs at the idea of Warders, her companion (White Ajah) points out that, logically, given their lifestyle Red Sisters would find Warders MORE useful than most other Sisters. So true (and really points out how bizarre it is that we’re supposed to be believe that no Red Sister has attempted to bond a woman in all the time since the Warder bond was invented. That would, honestly, have made so much sense in Jordan’s worldbuilding - if Red Ajah Sisters all had female Warders).

6. We are reminded that corporal punishment is a big thing in the Tower, because Jordan clearly believed very strongly in it. People do persistently like to believe that people in positions of power hitting vulnerable people under their care builds character despite all the evidence stating that it does not, in fact, work (I’ve got a fairly comprehensive study buried somewhere in my queue about how when a country bans spanking, it reduces youth violence, among other things: shockingly enough, using violence to ‘teach’ people mostly just teaches them that violence is how you’re supposed to communicate). The Mistress of Novices has a cabinet with a strap, a switch, and a slipper. I feel like this is part of the White Tower that will not make it to the show.

7. But that’s not why Moiraine was summoned. She’s actually here to learn that her uncles (King Laman and his two brothers) were killed yesterday. Moiraine didn’t like her extended family much, though, so she isn’t exactly grieved by their deaths (we do learn here that her own father was a scholar who married a scholar, and thus was somewhat looked down on by his more ambitious family). Aww, when Moiraine gets back to her room, the lamps have been lit and there’s a fire in the fireplace, which she attributes to Siuan (moment #13).

8. Moiraine has a nightmare about a faceless infant in the snow who calls down lightning. After she wakes up from the nightmare, she banks the coals and goes to Siuan’s room, not wanting to sleep alone (moment #14). Siuan has also been having nightmares about the Dragon Reborn and welcomes her into the bed. Siuan wonders what they’re even going to do if they do find the Dragon. Moiraine says he can be brought to the Tower to be protected and educated in the ways of politics, war, and history. “Verin Sedai said that most mistakes made by rulers came from not knowing history; they acted in ignorance of the mistakes others had made before them.” (this is the exact thing that makes Mat the Greatest General - he has the ultimate ability to learn from other people’s mistakes in war, due to his memories) And, most importantly, the Dragon can be guided by them, “to make sure he made the right decisions”. Fascinating that VERIN is apparently the one who taught Moiraine and Siuan about the whole “women can’t teach men because it’s like fish and birds” thing when she’s the one who will undercut that very point years later by mentioning birds that dive for food & flying fish.

9. When they’re awoken in the morning, Moiraine gives Siuan a last hug before heading back to her own room (moment #15). Another mention of an Aes Sedai who will become damane -- Ryma is mentioned here. She is forcibly renamed Pura by the Seanchan at Falme and desperately asked Egwene to remember her real name for her, because she was losing hold of herself. I just... I really hate the Seanchan. I... again express my bafflement that Jordan decided to make his two of main male characters willing to accept the brutal slavery enacted by the Seanchan and have warm feelings for the slavers. wtf, dude? (and I will say that it’s bizarre that Rand doesn’t emotionally identify more with the damane, given how many of his own fears center around being leashed and used. but Jordan doesn’t even let him identify with the Asha’man so I guess that’s par for the course.)

10. “She had never been as close to anyone as she was to Siuan. Or loved anyone as much.” (moment #16)

11. In the aftermath of Laman’s death, Moiraine gets questioned by several Sitters about Cairhienin politics and realizes, to her dismay, that they are angling for her to take the Sun Throne now that Laman is dead. She worries that her only means of escaping such a fate would be to essentially flee the White Tower as soon as she gets the shawl and stay away as much as possible. Moiraine would probably have gotten further with Rand if she’d tried to bond with him over not wanting the responsibility that her heritage could have granted her, imo.

12. Moiraine realizes on the fourth day of copying baby names that no woman is ACTUALLY going to describe her kid as being “born on the slopes of Dragonmount” because the Prophecies of the Dragon are too well known - though many “common” people know inaccurate versions of the prophecies, even the most incorrect versions mention Dragonmount. Tamra comes in to Moiraine and Siuan, to give Moiraine a sealed letter to deliver to Kerene (ah, the Aes Sedai from episode 4).

13. Kerene is Green Ajah, so we get reminded that the Green Ajah’s actual PURPOSE is supposed to be to stay prepared to fight in the Last Battle. But, over time, it’s mostly just become the Ajah for people who want lots of Warders (Elayne believes that she HAS to choose Green because she wants Rand for a Warder after already having Birgitte, and only Greens would EVER have more than one Warder - despite “being prepared to fight the Last Battle” actually being something that Elayne wants to do and would have been a much better reason for her to want to be Green). We get a brief mention of Elyas here -- he’s still a Warder at the moment.

14. Moiraine’s point here about how, when a Sister lives long enough, her immediate family will all die and fade into memory, while only the Tower remains, does a much better job of showing why the Aes Sedai ARE so attached to the institution of the White Tower than anything in the main series does, imo. (of course, part of the problem there is that our main leads are all young enough that they DO still have immediate family/loved ones who are still living outside the White Tower, so they haven’t experienced that yet, but are as devoted to the White Tower as Sisters who have lived there hundreds of years. so it just feels slightly weird that they’re so attached tbh).

15. Stepin mention! Hi, Stepin. Kerene has another Warder here too, who didn’t make the show - Karile. Hi, Kerene! And it’s implied that she might have more Warders too. Moiraine made a huge point in her narration earlier about how Elaida just DRAPES herself in bright-bright red at all times to shout out her Ajah, but literally every Sister that Moiraine mentions is also wearing her Ajah’s colors, lol. As she leaves and reunites with Siuan, she learns that Siuan gave a similar message to Aisha Sedai, who is Gray Ajah. Moiraine guesses that Tamra is trying to assemble a trusted search party to look for ~the boychild~ who is the Dragon Reborn. And that Tamra doesn’t trust the Red Ajah with news of his birth at all. That Tamra’s plan is not to bring the boy to the White Tower, but to send him into hiding with trusted teachers to raise him safely AWAY from the White Tower. Yeah, that probably would be a better idea.

16. We learn that there’s a rumor in the Tower that Gitara had another Foretelling earlier that the Last Battle would come in the lifetimes of sisters now breathing. Which means two-three hundred years, so much less than the pinpoint accuracy of the Foretelling that Siuan and Moiraine overheard. This makes Moiraine suspect that there were other Foretellings as well, known only to Tamra now that Gitara is dead. Elaida visits while Moiraine is practicing for the Aes Sedai test with Siuan and Myrelle, and proceeds to be an abusive teacher. I’m guessing the story that she told Rand the last episode of season one is taking the place of this sort of more Tower-sanctioned beating.

17. And this is extremely abusive behavior on Elaida’s part. The weird thing is that Jordan seems half-aware that violence isn’t actually a good teaching method; it often fails to actually impart lessons to the ‘students’ of the violence -- yet he persists in making every single culture in WoT that we spend time with one that is based around the idea of beating knowledge into your students. Maybe he was just unaware that it was POSSIBLE to even have a teaching culture that lacked violence? So he knew it didn’t really work but also thought there was no other method that existed? It’s like with Cadsuane -- she persistently bullies Rand, it always puts his back up and he doesn’t engage with her at all and despises her as a person and can’t imagine what he might learn from her, and yet we’re told via Min’s mystical Always Right BS Viewings that Cadsuane is going to Teach Him A Valuable Lesson. Jordan kept trying to force that square block through that round hole, over and over, despite smashing his fingers on it every time.

18. One of the other Accepted, Ellid, notes (after Elaida leaves) that it’s against Tower law to use the Power to punish initiates and Siuan says that it’s a law that is broken near-constantly by teachers. Ellid says that they should report Elaida’s actions to the Mistress of Novices but Moiraine says that an Accepted officially complaining about being treated poorly will ‘pay’ for it. Um. Yikes. *gestures back up to the point I just made* Why were you like this, Jordan*? “They were required to learn endurance as much as history or the One Power.”

*I mean, I read that article about the bullying/hazing culture of The Citadel, where he went to college, so I guess I know why he was like that. But yikes all the same.

19. The beatings do stop when someone reports Elaida’s behavior to the Mistress of Novices, but Elaida was reprimanded not for beating students nightly until they wept, but for ‘helping them cheat’ in practicing for the test. Once more, I offer a hearty “WTF”. The nightly beatings, which were actually making them do worse and worse each time Elaida did it to them, constituted her cheating in their favor, apparently. That is such a contradictory narrative (again, like Cadsuane or, for that matter, Mat and Tylin). We can see in how the characters respond that it’s awful and isn’t helping at all, but then the narrative informs us that Actually It’s Such A Good Thing and was Helping A Lot. ???? wtf. Moiraine and Siuan are told to “accept [Elaida’s] gift in the spirit it was given”. And Elaida now had a major grudge against the two women (Moiraine assumes that Elaida thinks they went to the Mistress of Novices themselves to report her). I do like Siuan speaking out against the idea that Elaida was helping them and saying that she won’t allow Elaida to retaliate against her.

20. A week (ten days) after Gitara’s Foretelling, the snow on Dragonmount melts. Since the child crying in the snow was a key part of the Foretelling, Moiraine now feels safe in believing that the child must have been born in that ten-day span of time.

21. Moiraine is summoned to her testing for the shawl, but makes sure to give Siuan a quick hug before she leaves for it. Moiraine is certain that she’s going to fail the test, so she starts coming up with a backup plan -- even if she gets put out of the Tower, she could still look for the child, after all. She would have the ability to use the Power (discreetly) and would have the funds from the Damodred estates. Moiraine realizes that even if she doesn’t become Aes Sedai, she can still have a purpose, and that comforts her (a little).

22. lol, Moiraine has to be naked, of course. It wouldn’t be a Robert Jordan ritual without a woman needing to take her clothes off. Moiraine notes that Elaida is one of the women watching over her testing and wishes that she weren’t. The test itself is interesting, but her being naked for it really is so gratuitous. It’s similar to the Accepted test that we saw with Nynaeve & Egwene in the earlier books, in that you forget your original purpose once you’re inside, but in this case, the goal is to hit your mark and do the one-hundred weaves in perfect calm.

23. The goal of being able to achieve perfect calm whenever needed DOES make sense for Aes Sedai, of course, due to how they are required to ‘surrender’ in order to reach saidar. So in terms of how Jordan set up the magic system, this test makes sense. An Aes Sedai needs to be calm in order to fully access their magic. But I do find myself so so curious about what the original purpose of this ter’angreal was, back when it was created, because I doubt it was for this.

24. Luckily, we do skip from weave number three to weave number ninety-nine. But this really does sound like an incredibly long and grueling testing. No wonder many Accepted fail and then are put out of the Tower (...and then join the Kin). Her first test was enduring humiliation, then there was a lot that involved fear and pain (and at least one with sexual assault), and now, for the last one, she has to walk past her father telling her that her mother is dying and asking for her (both are dead in real life). It also seems that the tests are shaped and chosen in part by the women who are on the outside of the ter’angreal, controlling it.

25. Once Myrelle and Sheriam find out that Moiraine passed the test, there’s an instant distance between them. “Friendship was at an end, until they also gained the shawl.” That’s so fucking weird. It reminds me of how Siuan was treated as a lesser person after she was stilled. She was no longer Aes Sedai and thus no longer an equal. But, yeah, this is especially weird because they’re SO EXCITED about the idea of a friend going for their test, but then if the friend passes the test, the friendship is over (and if she’d failed, it would also be over, because she would be booted from the White Tower).

26. Moiraine stays up, even though she’s exhausted, because if Siuan fails the test, then she’ll only be allowed to stay at the White Tower long enough to gather her things and say a quick goodbye (moment #17, with a tinge of sadness). She tries to keep herself awake by reading one of her & Siuan’s favorite books, Hearts of Flame. When Siuan returns triumphant, they dance hand in hand (moment #18). Moiraine is saddened when she thinks about how she and Siuan aren’t allowed to talk to each other about what was in their testing - they’ve shared everything with each other these past years. “Even here, the shawl brought separations.” Tomorrow, they will be raised Aes Sedai but Siuan decides (and Moiraine agrees) that they will pull one last prank together as Accepted: they will put mice in Elaida’s bed.

27. “Breach of the proprieties or not, they intended to do everything together this morning insofar as possible.” (moment #19) “Hand in hand, they entered. Together.” Moiraine is so happy that the Amyrlin is indulging their desire to be raised as Sisters together that she thinks she could kiss her (moment #20). “Siuan had the heart of a lion.” (moment #21)

28. So, in the books as said here, the Official Duty of the Blue Ajah is “righting wrongs” (or Seekers after Causes, as Verin puts it). It’s never really defined in a satisfying way, tbh. I’m kinda glad that the show went with a different angle (the spy Ajah!) because that’s kinda what it seems like the Blue Ajah actually does. I guess they’re supposed to be the... activist Ajah? Anyway, both Moiraine and Siuan pick Blue and can’t imagine picking anything else. Once it’s obvious that Moiraine & Siuan are headed for the Blue Ajah Sisters, everyone else leaves the chamber as they get their official blue-fringed shawls.

29. Wow, for once, this ritual DOESN’T require gratuitous nudity... anymore. But apparently it used to. Wishing I could go back in time to send Jordan a note letting him know that women do occasionally do things with their clothes on. We do learn here that all the Ajah have their own customs and traditions that the Sisters must learn once they’ve gained their shawl. The actual bit where they’re greeted by their Ajah is sweet.

30. Moiraine hugs Siuan and thinks “She had truly come home. They had come home.” (moment #22). Ah, and the apartments that Moiraine and Siuan have been given are side by side.

31. Moiraine notices one of the Blue Sisters acting deferential to everyone else, including her and Siuan. Ah, this is Cabriana, who gets tortured and killed by Semirhage. Now I’m sad. Also, Cabriana appears to be the Aes Sedai who is being used (by the narrative) to show Moiraine and Siuan that strength in the One Power is how the hierarchy is done among full Aes Sedai, because that’s something that they don’t learn until they achieve the shawl (which is why the Kin don’t do it that way and use age instead; they never learned the silly silly method that the Aes Sedai use -- out of all the various groups, the Aiel Wise Ones seem to be the most sensible when it comes to figuring out who leads imo, though they do have their own issues as well). Also of note (and Moiraine notices this in her internal narration too) is that once they are alone among their Ajah, the Sisters are more free showing their feelings and aren’t always just radiating serenity at all times.

32. Moiraine can now dress in blue instead of white (it’s noted that she’s provided with “four plain blue dresses” - yes, the Ajahs DO color-code themselves in their clothing, lol) and she can put her kesiera back on (the blue gem that rests on her forehead).

33. They are officially told now that instead of ignoring their strength in the Power compared to everyone else, they must now be absolutely aware of it, because it determines where they stand in the hierarchy of the Tower. “If another Sister stands higher than you in the Power, whatever her Ajah, you must defer to her. The higher she stands above you, the greater your deference.” ...every time we get reminded of this system, I feel again what a terrible, terrible system it is. No wonder they wait until the women are locked into place before telling them about it. A woman weak in the Power would probably be more willing to balk at the final test and go off on her own, rather than constantly be under everyone else’s thumb for the rest of her life.

34. That does also delineate why Cadsuane being such an awful bully of a person makes sense under the system that Jordan created. Until Egwene, Elayne, and Nynaeve came along, Cadsuane had been the strongest woman in the Tower for literal centuries, with everyone deferring to her whims. It’s a system that is designed to create bullies, minions, and victims. (...I’m going to blame the Black Ajah). Both Rand and Egwene think at various points how addictive it can be to have people jump to obey your every whim.

35. Moiraine is grateful that she and Siuan are near-identical in strength. “It would have seemed unnatural if Siuan had been forced to defer to her.” (moment #23) At this point in time, Moiraine is thinking that she and Siuan will leave the Tower together (to hunt for the baby Dragon) and “she for one did not intend to return until she was at her full strength”. It occurs to me... if Egwene and Nynaeve had been raised to the shawl in the normal manner, all of this would have come as a horrible crushing disappointment to Egwene? During their time as Accepted, Egwene fights so hard to feel like/be seen as Nynaeve’s equal (even tipping over to being cruel at times in her struggle), so being raised to Aes Sedai Sister and learning that she was now expected to show Nynaeve deference again (for the rest of the time they were Sisters!) would have probably been a pretty nasty surprise. Luckily for Egwene, she gets to bypass that and jump straight to the top, lol.

36. We are in Siuan’s perspective now, where we learn she has been volun-told into a job position inside the White Tower that she VERY much does not want and yet is not allowed to say ‘no’ to because she is ‘good at puzzles’ and someone who is currently stronger than her in the Power wants her help. So now she had to tell Moiraine that she will be searching alone. Despite her anger, she thinks, “The sight of Moiraine always made her smile. Cetalia had been wrong in one particular. She was not a pretty little porcelain doll; she was a beautiful little porcelain doll.” But more than that, Siuan also thinks, “Moiraine had turned out to be as tough as she herself, if not tougher”. (moment #24)

37. Siuan is relieved that, now that she’s Aes Sedai, she can swear again without worrying about being assigned a penance for it. Siuan pours herself a cup of tea without asking Moiraine’s permission, because they’re close enough that she doesn’t need it (moment #25).

38. Moiraine confesses to Siuan that she believes that the White Tower means to place her on the Sun Throne. Siuan says she can understand why and that she believes Moiraine would make a wonderful queen. Moiraine is almost in tears when she explains the legacy that her ancestors have left behind in order to rule Cairhien and “I am caught like a fox in a trap, and I cannot even chew off my own foot to escape”. Siuan reassures her that they WILL figure a way out.

39. “Siuan could have kissed her. In fact, she did.” (moment #26)

40. Oh, hi, Lan! It’s been quite a long time! They’re watching as the Aiel go back over the Spine of the World. The ‘war’ is over. At his teacher’s request, Lan agrees to wait four months before going north to pursue his own personal war against the Blight. And... bye, Lan! See you again sometime!

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

[itskatastrophe-x]

Finally Home (c!Sapnap x Reader)

I let my twitter followers decide who I wrote a oneshot for, and they wanted c!Sapnap, so here it is :) Written in the span of like... Idk 2 hours?? It’s a soulmate AU where you can feel everything your soulmate feels when you get in a certain distance of them and it gets stronger the closer you get to them. I hope yall like it!!

Word count :  2,701

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

There it was again. That burning sensation on the palms of your hands. You didn’t understand where it came from or why it was happening, but it hurt like hell. You wondered if it would ever stop, but you doubted it would. You knew the stories all too well but figured it would never happen to you, and slowly your fears confirmed it as all of your friends got theirs and eventually found their person. A soulmate. The way they talked about how they could feel what their soulmate felt on a physical level. They would feel light brushes against their arms or bumps when the other person would be somewhere busy. All of your friends had found their other halves years ago, explaining that when it happened there was a jolt like electricity in their bodies. After all of your friends had abandoned you, you had given up hope in ever finding your person. So you travelled. For miles and miles and miles, seeing every country, village, and kingdom your empty heart desired. You had lost everyone you loved and couldn’t even find your soulmate. 

Then it happened all too suddenly. If you had to guess, it happened when you got within range of the person, so you kept up your pace and travelled. It was an unpleasant sensation. It felt like fire all over your body. At first it was a small stinging, then the farther you travelled, the closer you got to this person, it grew. You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of cuts and wounds your other half would experience. You wished it was something as simple as the things your friends had gone through, but this was a nightmare. You wished you could meet this person once and for all just so you could give them a strong right hook to the jaw, then changed your mind as you remembered that you would also feel it. 

You knew by the things you were going through that this person was crazy and potentially dangerous with the amount of wounds this person was accumulating through the weeks of you travelling, so you did your best to be delicate. Whenever you would feel a new pain, you would prepare healing potions and drink them in hopes that the other person would also feel the effects. Either that or, if it didn’t feel like a gash or deep cut, you would trace your fingers over the spot gently to sooth the other person to let them know you would comfort them. What you couldn’t stand, though, was the feeling of fire dancing around your fingers. You eventually learned to tune it out and numb yourself to it, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when it started, but it was still painful and annoying.

Then it stopped as suddenly as it started. For three whole days. Three. Days. After the first couple hours of the first day you started to worry. It was rare that you got a single second of rest from this crazy asshole, but three days? Part of you hoped he wasn’t dead, but the other part was happy you didn’t have to deal with scratches, bruises, and burning. But you missed it so much that you wished the burning in your palms returned. Nothing stopped you from continuing on though, even though you had no idea if you were going the right way anymore or not. You used the pain as a guide for weeks to lead you closer, but when it stopped, you lost your physical compass. Something in your heart told you that you were still heading towards them though, so you kept on, this time faster and without much sleep. You wanted to make sure this person was ok, and fast. You watched all of your friends leave you, you couldn’t have your literal soulmate leave you as well. 

When the third day ended and you were about to fall asleep, you felt it. The smallest little touch to your cheek you had ever felt. It was out of the blue and you had never felt such a touch come from the other person, so it woke you up instantly. You laid there for a moment, the stroking on your cheek so soft and faint that you wondered if it was even the person at all. Slowly, you lifted your hand to your other cheek and caressed it. The feeling on your other cheek stopped, but the feeling of a hand still stayed there. That’s when you knew it was them. They knew you would feel it, but probably weren’t expecting you to return the feeling to them. The stroking started again, so you stroked your other cheek for them as well. Then it hit you. Why had you never thought of it before? After weeks of knowing you had a soulmate out there, it just now hit you. You sat up from your bed in the little hotel you were staying at and tapped your leg. The feeling on your cheek stopped then you felt the same tap on your leg again. You smiled and pressed your hand down for a second and felt more pressure a couple seconds later. 

Then you started. At first it was a smiley face, then letters one at a time to write to the person. You asked their age first. Then you felt the pressure of the person writing back. “20”. You drew yours back, then they drew a smile to confirm they got it. You asked their name. “Nick” they wrote back. Then you wrote yours. You got as much information as you could from this small communication as possible so you could find him easier. After your small exchange, you got up, got dressed, packed your things and headed towards a location called “Dream SMP”. You had seen it on maps before, but it was so far away that you thought you would never get there. You had already crossed oceans, rivers, and mountains for this man, but now you had a new fire to feel. A fire burning so deep in you that it ignited in your eyes. You used all the money and resources you had to get there. You bought boats and horses for the days leading up to your arrival.

After over a month of travelling, you finally made it to the outside borders of what was known as the DreamSMP. The streets were full and bustling with life. Most people smiled and greeted you as a new member, fully accepting you the second you set foot on the land, others scowled or threw hateful words your way, possibly thinking you wouldn’t hear, or maybe they hoped you would so you would leave. You asked around about this person “Nick” and got an overwhelming response of happy chatter and protests of anger, so you left as politely as you could to search on your own. 

You felt like it would take forever to find this other person if all of the streets and businesses would be this crowded and overwhelming, until you came across one man standing at the edge of a river with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. His fluffy brown hair flipped up in the front and slightly waved in the breeze, the colors he wore matching his vibe completely. You approached him cautiously at first, but felt comforted by the aura he gave off. You cleared your throat quietly, so as not to startle him, and he opened his eyes slowly to greet you, the lightest shade of blue you had ever seen. He gave you a soft smile and waved you over, so you complied. 

For a second, you wondered if this was him, but you took note of his soft, clear looking skin and the lack of electricity as you neared him. When you got next to him, he pointed across the river to a very ornate village sitting on the hills surrounded by flower forests. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You stared in awe at the mushroom buildings and statue and smiled at him. “I’ve travelled a long way to get here and passed hundreds of kingdoms, but this tops them all,” you replied. He made a noise of agreement and smiled, content with your answer. “Well, tell me, new face, how did you make your way to Kinoko Kingdom, and why are you here?” There was no malice in his voice as he asked and you could tell he was being friendly so you knew you wasn’t being standoffish. “I came to meet my soulmate,” you answered. His eyes went wide and met yours, a look of shock on his face. “Th-that’s you?!” You looked at him, furrowing your brows. How did he know? As if to read your mind, he continued. “I knew he was expecting someone, but, wow… I mean… He’s gonna want to meet you now. He literally hasn’t shut up for weeks about you.” You stammered for a second as he grabbed your hand and started running, barely giving you any reaction time to keep up with him. He was fast and energetic and you liked it. He seemed friendly and bubbly and his touch was comforting. 

He weaved in and out of streets and occasional bystanders watching the two of you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You took it these people didn’t see many new faces, seeing as they were small in numbers. He didn’t slow down until both of you were panting in front of a giant cherry blossom tree in front of the biggest library you had seen. You could hear a loud voice echoing out of the open hole, acting as a doorway. The man next to you put a hand on your shoulder and you looked over at his grinning face. “I should explain before you get in there… My name is Karl and Sapnap, or Nick, is my fiancé. Now before you get worried, we’re in an open, poly relationship and he’s talked to me about all of this and I am 100% welcoming you into our little family.” He gave you a warm smile that reached his eyes so you knew he was being sincere. 

A booming shout broke your thoughts and you felt a pain in your toe that almost made you fall over, then loud laughter erupted. You smiled and shook off your foot as Karl motioned you inside, and that’s all you needed to run inside. The space inside was open with books lining the high walls. There was a staircase to your right, a mushroom in the far back, and a balcony above your head. There you saw him. At first he stood there laughing with the other man in front of him, not realizing you were inside, so you stared. You felt something like fire dancing across your skin lightly as you watched him with wide eyes. He was more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen. He had his jet black hair tied into a messy, low bun at the back of his head, a scar across the length of his face that went across the bridge of his nose. He had a light dusting of freckles across his rosy cheeks and the most piercing eyes. The man in front of him caught onto your stare and nudged the man, pointing down at you from their spot on the balcony. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went up your spine and your skin felt hot, like you were now encased in a cocoon of fire. For a moment you both just stared at each other, not being able to move, until you felt a pair of hands push you gently from behind.

That’s all it took to move you. You took off towards the stairs and took them two at a time as he ran to meet you on the landing. You collided into the biggest hug that knocked the wind out of your lungs and almost sent you flying backwards, but he kept you steady. Your eyes welled up for a moment and you laughed into his chest. He smelled like a campfire, fir trees, and old books. He was so warm and your body fit his so perfectly under his arms. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a soft touch to your shoulder, a small hum coming from Karl behind you. “Thank god you’re finally here. Sapnap literally would not shut up. He always talked about how soft you were with him when he knew how hard it must have been for you. Weeks. Weeks.” Sapnap reached an arm out to punch Karl, but he dodged easily since Sapnap still hadn’t let you go. You chuckled and closed his eyes as he put his arm back over your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered into your hair. He squeezed him and smiled. “You thought I wasn’t?” He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I thought you would hate me. I’m so reckless and get hurt all the time. How could anyone want me if they feel what I feel?” You pulled back to look him in the eyes and you gave him the most genuine smile you had ever had on your face. “You’re stupid. Of course I would be here. And I will stay here. I’ll take care of all your bumps, scrapes, and stabs. The pain means nothing so long as I know you’re ok.” His pointed ears turn a bright red and he averts his gaze to the floor, so you bring your hand to his cheek gently. At first he flinches, but soon closes his eyes, sighs, and leans into your hand, his lip slightly quivering from such tenderness. 

“I do have one question, though.” He hums, not opening his eyes. “Why do my palms always burn? Do you just, like, constantly sit around a campfire?” He chuckles and slowly lifts his head, eyes opening to look at you. He pulls back from you slightly, keeping one arm around your waist as he watches his hand, then back to your face to watch your eyes on his hand. In an instant, his hand is surrounded by fire, the burning in your hand starting up. He must have liked the look on your face because he lets out a snort and then starts laughing, all while you stand there in awe at the power he held. “Holy shit… And… And that’s real fire? Just like that?” You look back at him and he gives you a shy smile and a nod of his head as the fire goes out. There was a sparkle in your eyes that he was absolutely enchanted by and he hoped he would get to see that for the rest of his life. You let out a small huff of amazement and smile brightly. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met,” you say quietly as you watch his features soften as he’s left speechless. 

“Oh get a room,” the guy behind Sapnap says, his voice thick with an accent and sarcasm, the sound of a smile in his words. Sapnap looks at the man and points at him, shooting off a mini fire at him. His shirt catches for a second before the man screams and smacks himself to put it out. You laugh as you watch the exchange and Sapnap looks back at you, thinking of how beautiful your laugh sounds. “Well,” Karl starts. “We have a lot to talk about! Ooooooh this is so exciting! We need to know more about you!!” He grabs both of you and pulls you down the stairs and out to the pond next to the tree out front, the sun finally setting over the hills, casting a gorgeous, fiery glow on your soulmate’s features. You couldn’t wait to see what their life was like. To kiss all of his scars and tell him how amazing he was. To run your fingers through his raven feather-looking hair. Oh how you loved this.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Seeing Him Smile and Kiss Someone Else (Hoodie X F!Reader)

[Hoodie/Brian Thomas X F!Reader]

[Warnings: none]

[AN: Howdy! I cross post these on quotev under ‘Elsie I Guess’ and on AO3 under ‘Whaletales1920′ under the title ‘The Places You Shouldn’t Be’. Just thought I’d start uploading them here too.]

Part 2

Proxies aren’t supposed to do a lot of things: speak back to their master, challenge hierarchical roles, have relationships with each other of that caliber, and never, never ever absolutely never have romantic relationships with humans. 

Why? It’s a losing game. Everyone knows that. Should proxies seek any kind of attachment, platonic, romantic, even sexual, their best bet is to stay within their own kind: other proxies. It’s the polite thing to do. It’s the right thing to do. 

When you first came in, you bonded almost immediately to your group of four other individuals. There’s Masky, your group leader. He’s really sweet when he wants to be and seems to care the most about you - it’s probably because you’re new. Toby is akin to the middle child. He’s always buzzing around you a lot like a bumblebee. While he has his jerk moments, he’s got an eye out for you. So too does Kate, once the group’s newbie/runt. She’s the one you replaced. She’s relatively quiet and sticks to herself, but she’s never a stranger to helping you out and immersing you in the culture and world you’ve found yourself entangled in. 

And then there’s Masky’s right hand, a proxy named Hoodie, but you know him as Brian. Out of all your group members, Brian was the hardest to warm up to. He hardly acknowledged you when you were first placed in his group and was amongst the hardest in the hazing process (you’re still technically going through). But, after some time and getting to know each other, the two of you became the closest of friends, even going so far as to rival Masky’s friendship with him. It’s safe to say you got a bit of a crush on him, in simplest terms. 

Three times. Three times you felt you liked him.

The first time was when you were about to head out of your safe house on a grocery run. Proxies don’t have any leads, so cards are absolutely off the table. You walked out of the safe house, yawning slightly, and barely made it down the driveway when Brian had popped back out of the house. 

“Reader,” he called out, slowly moving to lean in the doorway of the empty house the five of you were squatting in. 

“Yeah?” You asked sleepily. 

“Forgetting something?” He holds up his hand - it’s the wallet. 

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you speed walked back to the front door to retrieve it. “Guess I’m still kinda tired,” you admittedly awkwardly with a small chuckle. 

Brian shrugged slightly and threw you a smirk as he met you halfway, “Think I’ll accompany you this morning,” he said with a wink. 

The two of you began to walk as you mentally mulled over the man walking beside you - his hands in his pockets. You’d never really thought of him like that before, but the way he smiled and that wink… It planted a seed. You weren’t quite sure you were going to acknowledge it or if it was just a fluke, but the thought stayed, and then it remained. 

As the two of you traversed the grocery store for various things your comrades had asked for, you and Brian traded conversation about everything that popped into mind. 

“Oh, like you knew any better in high school,” you wheezed before tossing in a box of brownies. You’d just been discussing how terrible and how gods awful high school relationships can be and how at one low point, you got into one. Brian had said he knew better than to mess around in high school, but you had retorted that ‘we’re all young and dumb once.’ 

Brian raised a brow at the box but allowed it anyway. “I most certainly did and I knew how things were gonna play out before they even happened.” 

“On what basis? It’s not like you have future vision,” You snorted. You watched as he pushed the cart forward as you plucked items you needed from the shelves. 

He shot you a look. “I’m a guy, it’s practically flowing through our veins,,” he said as his eyes raked over the list. “I’d most likely be the reason those things are happening to begin with and knowing that is like it’s own future vision..” He flashed his smile at you. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever grew out of the dumb part,” he chuckled. 

Your heart skipped. 

The second time you thought you liked him was when you were in the car with him, heading back to your safe house (in an entirely different part of the country). The two of you were more than exhausted after clearing a house whose occupants the Operator wanted dead for one reason or another and Brian decided to steal a car. So, there you sat in the passenger seat. 

“Something on your mind?” He hummed, arm resting on the console. His hazel colored eyes flicked over to you with interest. 

You shrugged, “just thinking.”

“Dangerous for people like us,” Brian chuckled. “Care to get specific?” 

You sighed slightly and turned your eyes to the passing street lights overhead as the car pulled onto the late night expressway. “Thinking about all the things I’ll miss,” you admit. 

Brian nodded from the corner of your eye. “I think about that stuff too,” he said, a small frown pulling onto his face. “You were finishing up college?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, I guess I’m getting out of the college loan debt but… Y’know,” you trailed off slightly, your posture changing slightly. “Maybe I would’ve been normal. Get a cool job, live a non murderous life, have a family and a loving partner. I don’t know, like, whatever the American dream says we should have. Anything but this.” 

Brian laughed slightly, “sorry. It’s not - it’s not you,” he explained. “It’s just awfully similar to what I wanted.” 

You turned your attention from the passing lights over to Brian. “White picket fence is your thing?” 

“More or less,” he hummed. “Wanted to live the rest of my life like a normal person.

Certainly died like one, more or less,” he finished. 

You mentally hummed, already knowing what he was referring to. Died and got resurrected. “Don’t think falling from a floor up counts as normal.” 

“Hey, it worked out for…. Something nice,” he quickly chirped. “Fell and met an angel.” 

He briefly turned his head to look at you and flashed a grin. 

“Oh that’s so bad.” 

“You love it.” 

You really do.  

The third time was when the two of you were on the rooftop of some house you’d been spending a lot of time at. It was kind of nice to be able to settle down in one place for more than a month - it’d been going on close to a  year. It was your roof, the one you shared with Brian. Late in the night, when the crickets sang and the stars danced, the two of you snuck up against Masky’s best wishes to talk about the world and life before. 

When summer was giving way to autumn and sending cool breezes throughout the night, you and Brian had been up there once again. 

“You think EJ will be around?” You asked, looking up at the stars you barely knew the names to. “BEN did say he was in the area.” 

“Gonna say yes,” Brian hummed back, momentarily pausing to point out Altair. “He’s always had a soft spot for our group,” he noted. “Why? You looking forward to seeing him?” He chuckled, hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. 

You laugh as quietly as you can and shake your head, “we’ve hardly ever spoken!” You giggled. “I just think he’s cool.”

Brian snorted in response and nodded, “yeah, I think so too. Though, where’d you get the opportunity to talk with BEN?” 

“There’s a little computer cafe in town,” you said, eyes flicking towards the direction of said cafe. “I’ve been spending a lot of time there. Mostly to use the internet,” you admitted, a slight heat coming to your cheeks. Proxies really aren’t supposed to use the internet. “Toby also sometimes tags along.” 

“So that’s where he’s been getting those weird references from,” Brian said with a tone of understanding. “Next time you go, let me know. I’d love to see what you children are up to online,” he teased. 

You laughed again and nodded, “sure thing.” 

The two of you continued to talk before a particularly hard gust of wind came in. On instinct, you shivered - though you weren’t really cold. 

Upon seeing you shiver, Brian took no hesitation in taking off his hoodie, much to your chagrin. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began as you attempted to push it towards him. 

“I insist,” he had said, already popping the thing over you. 

You relented and allowed the giant hoodie to envelop your form like a warm hug. It smelled just like him - something woodsy, smoke, and the faintest of graphite. When you looked back at Brian, he was staring up at the stars, a small smile on his face. His eyes did not leave the inky blueish-black, not even when your hand came within millimeters of holding his. 

All it took was three times. Three times to know you liked him, and once to know you’d lost him. 

As stated before, it is absolutely a losing game to get involved with humans. Humans are frail and prone to panic. They can’t understand the world the way you do, nor are they suited for life the way you are in their current form. In your society, humans are the lowest of the low, akin to cattle - albeit, sentient cattle. Only when they are lifted from their human status are they finally given the time of day. 

He never would have known about her if you never brought up that computer cafe. Truly, it was a mistake on your part. You didn’t mean to, but it had happened anyway. 

“Cute place, right?” You smiled, eyes traveling up and down the rows of tables. 

“The cutest,” Brian agreed with a small chuckle. “Do we go up to a counter and order or..?” He trailed off slightly as he inspected the place and took in all the minor details. 

“Just take a seat, a waiter will be around shortly,” you said, immediately pulling him to your preferred spot by the windows and tucked away into the corner. 

Brian followed your lead and took a seat next to you where he immediately powered on the computer. “It’s kinda weird that they let us have food this close to the electronics, no?” 

“Oh no, it’s super weird,” you nodded as you began flicking open tabs to get to the things you wanted - maybe say hi to BEN. “But, it works. So like, c’est la vie?” You giggled, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. 

A few moments later, a waitress stopped by. You had already managed to pull up a chat with BEN and were so engrossed in catching up with him that you failed to notice her. You hadn’t even recognized she was there until you heard her giggling at something Brian had said. 

“Never thought I’d be that star struck,” Brian had finished the small anecdote with eyes that practically sparkled. 

Her smile only widened. “You? The star struck kind?” She teased lightly. “Have to see it to believe it.” 

Brian looked up at her, his lips now pulled up into a smile. “You’re looking at it right now.” 

It pulled you so hard out of your conversation with BEN that you’d accidentally sent him a half-baked thought. “Wait what?” 

Your sound of confusion had snapped the two back into reality. “Oh! I’m sorry, sugar,” the waitress apologized with a slight blush rising to her cheeks. “Was there something I could get you?” 

You blinked a few times, your eyes darting between the two before finally managing to stammer out your drink and pastry of choice. You watched as Brian’s eyes followed her out and when she came back in. 

Long after the two of you had finished, the two of you decided to head back. 

“That was fun,” you said. 

“It was,” Brian replied, thoughts drifting elsewhere. 

Ever since that moment, he’d been going to the café with and without you. Sometimes you’d find yourself heading there only to see him entranced in conversation with the waitress, and when that happened, you turned right back around. At first it was to give them space, and then it was to give yourself space. 

You wished you could allow yourself to weather through this one with grace and that it didn’t bother you, that it didn’t get on your nerves, but it did. Slowly but surely, it had chipped away at some odd part of you that you didn’t even know existed prior to. 

Masky was the first to bring it up. 

“Reader,” he began. “Can you wrangle Hood from that café? Operator wants us to do something - I just need him,” he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. 

“I can go if you want,” you suggested before poking your head back out from the refrigerator. 

“Hm?” That got Masky’s attention. “Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrow, giving you an inquisitorial look. 

“It’s no big deal,” you said with a small smile as you plucked your drink out from the fridge. “Besides, I think Hoodie’s busy.” You had to fight the unpleasant feeling that bubbled up in your chest after you said that. 

“Oh,” Masky gave a hum of recognition. “Toby did mention he was getting a little close to someone there,” he said in passing. 

You shot Masky a look. 

He shot one back. 

Internally, you both know that’s not the best thing - but Masky’s not going to stop his best friend. And you know you won’t either. 

Kate mentioned it next, though she seemed to be telling you that you’d get  over it. It came relatively out of the blue. See, the two of you were standing in the living room of a house painted in blood just chatting, waiting for the Operator to give you direction on what he wanted for the man he wanted alive when Kate got weirdly serious. She sat down on the sofa and invited you to sit down next to her. 

“You can’t keep avoiding him like that,” she hummed, her shoe digging into the man’s chest as he wriggled beneath her step. “I know it’s awkward, but he’s your comrade first.” 

You rolled your eyes and lightly pushed at her. “Come on, it’s not that serious,” you said, attempting to play off your feelings that were so gods damn obvious throughout the time you’ve been spending in this area. 

“Are you kidding me?” Kate chuckled. “Look,” her hand is on your shoulder as she digs her heel into the man’s chest, cracking his ribs slightly. “It’s uncomfortable. I get that. It’s why we don’t… Do that kind of thing.” She rubbed her thumb in little circles on your shoulder as she grounded you. “It’s probably for the best, even though you can’t see it right now.” 

You sighed and gave her a look of slight pain. “You’re probably right.” 

“I know I’m right.”

It’s not that Toby is bad at reading a room, but it’s that he’s really bad at reading a room. When the two of you went to the computer café for your outing, he was excited to see the girl Brian was ‘seeing,’ as he somehow managed to miss her from every other precious visit. It was so obvious that they had been - her perfume was practically embedded into his skin now - and his smile was brighter than the sun after seeing her. 

And here you were, not even wanting to know her name. 

It’s Fiona. 

“Toby!” She greeted as she bounded up to your table. “Reader! What a nice surprise!” There was no malice in her tone. She was genuinely happy to see you. “What can I get you two today?” 

“C-Chocolate croissant and some h-h-hot chocolate please,” Toby said. He then turned to you, and as if he read your mind, gave her your order as well. “H-How have t-things been?” He asked. 

“Really good,” Fiona replied. “He’s such a sweetie, got me this necklace.” 

Your eyes immediately left the screen and travelled to her neck. There it was. Beautiful necklace. Silver chain with a hunk of rose quartz at the bottom in the shape of a bullet.You remembered seeing that pendant. It hung on his mirror for such a long time. You once overheard him saying to Kate how it was your possible birthday gift. 

“It’s so pretty,” you smiled, eyes not quite following. 

You were damn certain if you were suffering from hanahaki you would’ve choked on flowers by now and died. The last nail in the coffin? 

Now. Right now. You came back to the safe house just wanting to relax, maybe star gaze for a bit and fall asleep outside - anything and everything sounded better than just being alone in your thoughts after the Operator had some harsh words to say to you on account of your performance slipping ever so slightly from his golden standards. You fix yourself a warm mug of tea and start making yourway to the rooftop. It’s the same path you’ve always taken: head up the stairs to the upper floor, last room on the left side of the hall, go in and open the study windows there and hang out on the roof. 

You make sure to take careful steps as you ascend, not wanting to spill any of your carefully made tea as you seek to unwind. With a deep breath, you start making it through the hallway, thankful no one else is here. Masky is away on business, Kate is doing something with Jeff and Toby left a few hours ago to meet with someone he deems important. Come to think of it, you haven’t had the house free in a while. 

But, as you step closer and closer to the last room on the left, you hear it. Giggling, whispers, conversation that’s so innocent and intimate at the same time. You notice the study door is closed. It’s never closer. You step closer. 

“You’re so sweet,” That’s Fiona’s voice. “You don’t have to get me all these things - I don’t even know where I’m gonna wear all of them.” She giggles. 

“Wear a different one every time I come to see you.” That’s Brian. “Gonna be burning through those things like crazy.” You hear the sound of a kiss. 

“You got a deal,” Fiona chuckled. Another kiss. 

You hear the roof shingles move slightly as they move closer together. Against your better judgment, you push open the study door slightly. Must you be so nosy?

There, sitting on the roof outside the window is Fiona and Brian. She’s wearing his sweater (it’s just polyester) and giggling as he peppers her face in kisses. When she’s decided he’s covered her in enough kisses for an entire year, she presses her lips to his. 

He smiles before kissing her back just as fervently. 

Without a sound, you begin to head back to your room. 

Perhaps tea in your room would be better. 

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #21

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

[AO3]

~POV Sinbad~

After learning about his death, Sinbad knew he had to talk to his Prophet. If Pisti hadn't kept Mori away from the Palace all day they would have talked by now. He had used Zepar to see if they were almost done after lunch and they were still in full force.

The sight also brought other thoughts to mind. During the dinner Mori said directly that flirting wouldn't get her in his bed, but she had put on that display for Sinbad in the shop after saying how much she appreciated the welcome gifts. It had to be an invitation and a not so subtle hint on how to get what he wanted. King Sinbad made his way to the Green Sagittarius Tower, and he wasn't empty handed. He let Mori rest for a few hours after returning from her shopping trip, so she would surely be ready for him. As long as the mood didn't grow too sour from the conversation they were about to have, he might finally manage to get his Beautiful Prophet to lay with him.

Watching Mori as she picked out clothes gave him ideas for what types of accessories would look best on her. He had this current piece commissioned when they arrived in Sindria, more were on the way, and he would take her to the treasury in the coming days to pick somethings out herself. Of course, if this wasn't enough, there was also delicious food to convince her -they had a lot to talk about.

And since it was nearly sun down a certain General was going to be too busy in the White Capricorn Town to get in the way. If he was lucky -and who's kidding, Sinbad is the luckiest man alive- Mori'd be in the outfit she had teased him with.

---

~POV Mori~

I woke up to the sound of the Great Bell. Was it 4 or 6 pm? The sun would answer that question sooner or later.

I did a bunch of stretches that I probably should have done before crashing when I got back, but better late than never. Doing stretches put my nose closer to problem areas; I needed a bath after all that walking and sun exposure. I grabbed the uniform to change into afterwards -I wanted to start getting used to it before I needed to wear it to work.

The guest bathing room wasn't too many floors away. I'd only used it twice since arriving in Sindria and I wasn't sure if I could ever get used to public bathing. I wasn't particularly embarrassed; it just wasn't an atmosphere I grew up with.

The soaps, oils and lotions I was given were even nicer than the ones in Balbadd. I was definitely going to be able to keep my eczema at bay as well as take care of my long hair.

When I finished I got dressed. This button front fit which was a real plus. The skirt was still slightly long though. The waist wrap was easy enough to tie on. I left my hair down to let it dry easier. Then I walked as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself. As soon as I got back to my room I took the whole thing off and threw it on the floor.

The fabrics might be thin but not thin enough. I was starting to sweat by the time I got back to my room. The fabric of the skirt also just felt awful against my legs; it was the type that got stuck on the slightest dry patch of skin. The seam around the collar was rolled instead of folded so the bump was irritating my neck. I knew it wouldn't be right to take everything off as soon as I put it on since I had an audience in the bath room, but gosh did I wish I had.

My new uniform stared up at me from the floor. The only parts I'd be keeping were the coat and the belt. I wasn't going to match everyone else but maybe that was okay. I was the Prophet of this country -not just some standard worker- so maybe I could get away with not wearing the uniform.

The waves started to rise for some reason, and drew my attention to the windows.

'I can't just stand around naked...' I closed all of the curtains just in case a certain bird got a bad idea. 'Okay. Now I can just stand around naked.' It was my room; if I wanted to be naked I should be allowed to do that.

With nothing on, I finally started to cool back off, and my skin was able to calm down from being overly sensitive. It was time to get dressed again, and it was going to have to be something soft, thin and relatively simple. I considered wearing one of the dresses from Riem, but without the tie so I could T-pose in my room like I giant rectangle sheet asserting my dominance over the space, but I had a feeling it wasn't going to be light enough for me in that moment. I definitely needed something that has good air flow and maybe more skin exposure since my skin was being extra sensitive.

I remembered the makeshift overalls idea I had earlier, so grabbed a pair of harem pants to go with that top from earlier. I opened the curtains when I was covered so I could get a better look in the mirror. The setting sun put a glare on my reflection, but I could tell that from the right angle this look was a little too 'good.'

The opening on the side of the pants were purposely exaggerated. I knew Pisti would pick out something flashy, but dang. They were a dark violet indigo too, so the pale skin of my legs

stood out. It was a good thing I was wearing exercise bloomers underneath or I might risk flashing someone during a strong breeze.

I spread out a few other options on my bed to see if there was something less flashy.

*Knock knock*

I was not expecting visitors and it wasn't time for dinner yet. After spending 24 hours dealing with all sorts of people, I wasn't sure if I could handle any more conversation.

"Mori." My name came muffled through the door. I recognized that voice of purple and peach instantly. However, I missed whatever he said after that -not because of his voice but just because I was panicking that Sinbad, himself, was visiting me in person. I checked back in just in time to hear him say. "I'm coming in."

---

~POV Sinbad~

King Sinbad knew he was lucky, and now knew why the waves of Fate favored him thanks to the previous night, but the sight that greeted him when he entered the room was better than he had hoped. Mori had her closer hand on her hip and her far hand near her chin like she was thinking about something. When he opened the door she turned towards him slightly -she had apparently been facing her bed which had clothes on it. Because of the angle, it took him a moment to realize she was wearing clothes on more than her waist.

There was still more that he had to repay Mori, but it looked like he owed Pisti now too.

Mori turned more towards him. This wasn't as flattering an angle for that outfit, but he didn't call her 'his Beauty Prophet' for nothing. He couldn't compliment her earlier, and took this opportunity to fix that. "It seems you'll look beautiful in anything."

She had been wearing a blank expression, before his comment made a hint of blush bloom on her cheeks. "There was a saying back home for this: 'do you like the clothes or the person wearing them?'" She dropped her hands and closed the gap between them by a few more steps. He could almost touch her at this distance. "If it wasn't for the fact that I know you are attracted to all women equally and prefer skin exposer, I might have thought I was becoming special to you."

Mori's playful tone meant that he hadn't crossed any lines, but her words were a reminder that she knew exactly the type of man he was.

Sinbad offered Mori the small box that he brought with him. "Oh, but you are special to me already."

She didn't take it, but her eyes grew slightly in surprise. "What's this for?"

"Every day, the magicians and doctors of the Black Libra Tower tell me how your information and help has caused more break throughs in their fields. It's only right that I compensate you for all of your work, as my Beautiful Prophet."

Sinbad moved the box closer to her and this time she accepted it. Mori continued to look up at him dumbfounded.

"But the..." She looked behind herself towards the folding wall.

He could guess what she was thinking. "As I told you last night, that new wardrobe is a welcome gift for becoming Sindria's Prophet."

Her expression when she looked back was a mix of shock, confusion, and a little fear; she was struggling to understand the situation. All but the confusion left quickly. The fear worried Sinbad, but he didn't want to spoil the mood so decided to file that information for a later time.

"Looks like you didn't believe me when I told you I know your worth."

Mori flinched and looked down at the box in her hands -probably as an excuse to not look at him.

"That isn't all I'm giving you as a reward," he added.

With her head down, Sinbad couldn't see her expression. After a few moments she spoke with a smile in her tone. "I guess you might really know what I'm worth then."

---

~POV Mori~

The box was a little wider than my palm, and about the length of my hand. There was gold along the edge of polished wood. It wasn't heavy by any measure, but the meaning behind it gave it a lot of weight. If the box was this expensive, what was it's contents?

I undid the clasp on the front and opened it to reveal 2 gold hoops covered in gold decorations, each with 2 red stones. The decorations reminded me of a lotus. One stone was at the base of the flower; there was a tear drop dangling from the middle made of the second stone.

"These earrings are lovely." I made sure to say something so I wouldn't leave Sinbad waiting for a response. Honestly, they were gorgeous. All the same, my stomach immediately twisted into knots upon seeing them.

'This is not a present. This is not a gift.'

That was a relief and disappointment.

'This is not a show of compassion, nor an attempt to butter me up to work even harder. This is payment for my hard work -recognition for my achievements. And he plans to give me even more for the work I'd already done.' I told myself that King Sinbad was telling me that I was doing good work, and that he has and will continue to recognize that.

I was useful to him and he had no intention of discarding me any time soon. But would it hold out past the 5 year mark?

I noticed that the petals had etchings resembling peacock feathers. 'It's not a lotus then.'

Something wasn't sitting right, so I looked up at Sinbad to gauge his reaction. The silhouette of a specific item on him was standing out extra hard and I remembered what Ja'far told me about the next issue of the Adventures of Sinbad.

"Did you pick these out for me?" My anxiety was replaced by something between embarrassment, and annoyance.

Sinbad had an excited tone -as if he was the one receiving instead of me. "I've commissioned a few pieces for you. These were just the first to be finished."

'Yup. Of course, he had these made special. There's no way these already existed.' I was going to be decked out in designs that were obviously referencing him. 'I guess "Prophet" means professional simp to Sinbad. This is fine.'

I did my best to hide what I actually wanted to say. "I'm honored. You could have just given me something you already had. Did you... request this design just for me?" I smiled to make him think I was interested in the thought behind the decision, and not the specific design choice.

The King looked proud of himself. "I told the jewelers all about my Beautiful Prophet so they could make the perfect designs."

"Did you tell them the same things you wrote about me in the next issue of your story?" I gave him the most *beautiful* smile I could.

Sinbad was still smiling but it faltered like he could tell my emotions might not totally align with my words. "Yes..."

"I thought so."

"Do you like them?" There was the faintest hint of nerves in his voice.

"Yes. I plan on wearing them every day." I said as I looked back down at the earrings. I meant it. I was a simp, and enjoyed marking; of course, I would like these. They just had more meaning for me than he intended. I didn't plan on getting into any romantic relationships ever again anyway, so marking myself for someone that could never love me back was fine.

The waves I had felt earlier weren't letting up even through all this. It could only mean, "You didn't come here just to give me these, did you?" I looked up at the King.

Sinbad's eyes widened ever so slightly for a moment before he laughed - obviously to cover up his discomfort for being caught. "Sometimes, it feels like you can see right through me." His words were ones I wanted to take as a bad sign but the look he gave me could best be described as 'tender' and the smile in his tone didn't seem like an act.

I pushed down the lump in my chest. "Even if I didn't read your Fate, your waves would give you away."

His expression still felt too genuinely full of some soft emotion I didn't want to name, so I turned away. My hands still held the jewelry box. It was the perfect excuse to not face him for a bit. I walked over to my table, placed the box down, and then decided to try the earrings on.

I wasn't comfortable with his silence.

"So, what *is* the other reason you're here?” When I turned back to look at his reaction, it finally hit that he came alone and what that could mean. "Since whatever it is, is apparently something that you don't want anyone else knowing."

Hopefully, whatever it was, was something that could be over quickly because I didn't think I would be able to handle all of the emotions mixing inside of me.

---

~POV Sinbad~

"So, what is the other reason you're here?” Mori turned back to face King Sinbad wearing the earrings he'd just given her; they were perfect for his Beautiful Prophet. "Since whatever it is, is apparently something that you don't want anyone else knowing." She wore a smile that tried to hide growing nerves underneath.

Mori's face was a little pink, but the waves felt like something more than flirting was going on.

Sinbad remembered what Ja'far had told him that morning about what had happened after he passed out. Mori had probably guessed that he wanted to talk about it. He sighed. Was she scared for him? He didn't want that all. The best way to quell her fears would be to refrain from even hinting about it. He reminded himself that it had only been one day since she told them all about the Calamities.

"I wanted to invite you to dinner -just the 2 of us this time." He wore his dazzling smile for her benefit.

Mori's eyes widened in surprise. She looked more dumbfounded than embarrassed.

The previous night, Mori had made it clear that she had a weakness for delicious food, so he could easily use that to tempt her. "Since you like fish so much, I though you might want to try one of my favorite dishes."

Mori gaped at him as the blush on her cheeks became undeniable, and she flailed a little in surprise. "You GaVE ME CLOTHES And EarrINGs!! AND NOw You're trying to spoil me with FOOD!" She was barely attempting to hide her enjoyment.

"Ha ha ha"

Mori could be a little strange some times, but it just made her more fun to watch.

She blushed harder at his laugh.

Sinbad took the opportunity to step closer to her. "Does this mean you'll join me?" he offered her one of his hands.

Mori turned away from him to think about it. She let out a sound halfway between a hum and groan. When she turned back, she explained, "It has been a long 24 hours for me. So I don't know if I have the emotional tolerance to talk about anything important right now."

Sinbad could wait a day or two before bringing up his future. She probably just needed more time to trust him with that knowledge. "I just want to spend time with my Beautiful Prophet, now that she's finally better." He kept his hand offered to her. Besides, more fun things would be on the table -maybe even his Beautiful Prophet- if they didn't ruin the mood with anything serious.

Mori narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Just dinner, and nothing else?"

Shit. Another time then. "Of course."

Her angry blushing was cute as she thought it over.

She walked to her bed, and picked up a violet cloth. Then she pulled the cloth over her head and onto her shoulders while heading back towards him. It covered most of her top which was a shame, but at least the sides of her legs were still exposed. Something about those colors looked better on her than any else he'd seen her wear yet -though she'd probably look best without anything on.

The gold of her earrings was matched by the gold clasps on her shoulders -he had definitely chosen the right accessory to give her first. He'd have to take solace in that. "Purple really suits you."

"Thank you." Mori took his hand that he was still patiently offering with a coy smile. "This was one of my favorite colors to wear back home too."

If she liked his colors so much, he wondered how much that affected his appeal in her eyes.

This night wasn't going to be everything he was after, but Sinbad knew how to be patient when he needed to be. There would be other opportunities. He could accept having Mori all to himself for evening -even if it was only dinner- for now.

((Happy New Year everyone. I hope you are all having a better time than me. I know I've been basically gone for the past few months. It's been one thing after another from: medical emergencies, financial emergencies, relapsing from a majorly triggering event, barely pulling myself back together enough to function only to get in a car accident on New Years Eve (no one got hurt but I do have to get my front bumper replaced -_-). Here's hoping that we all have quiet a 2022))