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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 21.5 OR Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is a mastery. It’s an ability that needs to be practiced and refined. It requires discipline and patience, especially when things go wrong. It’s problem solving and creative with never one right answer. It’s practically magic in a silver bowl, a whisk, and an oven. And Jungkook is the best wizard in this kitchen. He preheats the oven to three hundred and seventy five degrees fahrenheit. Then he cuts parchment paper to line a baking sheet and moves to brush the ramekins with melted butter. Jungkook adds the tablespoon of white sugar and rotates the ramekins until the surfaces are coated in it. Five ounces of seventy percent dark chocolate is put into a bowl with two ounces of semisweet chocolate and he melts it over a saucepan with hot water on low heat. Afterwards, he adds the egg yolks until the mixture stiffens. Jungkook wipes his sweat before he mixes in the tablespoon of flour and butter, reducing the heat to low and adding in some cold milk. It’s thickened after three minutes and he adds salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper as a secret ingredient, and mixes. The bowl is left over hot water while he whips egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar, adding sugar after a bit to create glossy, soft peaks. Jungkook transfers the egg whites into the soufflé base, folding it in gently one third at a time and then he divides the mixture to bake for a full fifteen minutes. What he’s left with at the end is the best chocolate soufflé on the planet. “What do you think?” “It’s really good.” Aeri politely smiles and you roll your eyes. “You don’t need to feed his ego. He’s been raving about it for days now.” “And you’ve eaten at least ten of them.” Jungkook grins and you mutter incoherently, unable to really protest against the claim that’s all too true. The soufflé is puffed and crusty on top, but still gooey and jiggly in the center. It’s risen to its maximum height without collapsing whatsoever, uniform all around. And the texture is cloud-like, soft with the chocolate taste melting on the palate. It took two weeks to perfect — but the outcome made the effort all worth it. “I call it the ultimate soufflé.” Your brows raise. “The ultimate? Not Jungkook’s ultimate?” “Nope. The ultimate.” He smirks and leans into you. “Want another one?” You hope he doesn’t know that it takes a lot of strength for you to reject. Jungkook’s good at baking. That much is clear. You’re not sure if he’s as good as you are of course, but anything that has to do with chocolate practically has his name on it. His chocolate soufflé is no exception. It’s fucking delicious. Enough that even Yoongi asks for seconds and Taehyung almost starts to cry. But you don’t want to admit just how good it is since his ego’s been boundless these past few days. “How does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” he pipes up suddenly when you haven’t even said a single word for the past five minutes. And when you tell Jungkook he’s not a chocolatier yet, he laughs and tells you he will be soon while condescendingly patting your head like you’re his pet. As if that wasn’t enough, he interrupts snuggling time by rolling over with a pompous look on his face. “I’m just so happy right now.” “Why?” You’re expecting a corny answer along the lines of — ‘because you’re here’. But instead Jungkook sighs dreamily and says, “I really nailed that soufflé, didn’t I?” It’s annoying. You’re just trying to live your life peacefully but in every shape, way, or form, no matter the context, he just has to bring up that goddamn soufflé like it’s his child he’s so proud of. It’s not like you aren’t happy for your boyfriend — frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he bragged or boasted about it to others. But he’s been constantly chirping about it in your ear. And any complaints from you would just warrant his grins and questions of if you’re jealous of his skills. “I don’t know what to add to my portfolio,” you mention passingly one afternoon after much contemplation. Your boyfriend hums. “You need something with chocolate, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, you could make my soufflé. I’m sure it would help with your grade a lot, but—,” Jungkook draws out the syllable with another sly smirk, “my recipe’s a secret. Sorry, babe. Wish I could help.” In spite of your inner exhaustion and vexation, for the sake of being a good girlfriend, you simply nod and let him have his moment. Even if Jeon Jungkook was being unbearably arrogant and reminding you of why you hated him about a year ago, he was clearly happy with the recipe he worked so hard on and you didn’t want to step on that. He deserves some personal limelight, so you let him have it. But luckily, you don’t have to bear the weight of his smug ass by yourself for long. “Yuna!” Your arm waves over your head. The high schooler smiles, rolling her luggage behind her and meeting with you halfway. Immediately, you engulf her in your arms even when she grumbles and resists. “How was the trip here? You’re not hungry, are you?” “God, you’re like my mom,” she huffs. “It was fine. Hey, Jungkook.” Yuna shifts and smiles warmly at your boyfriend who nods, greeting her as well. “Hey.” “So this is the school you go to?” You grin. “Sure is!” The last time you were with Yuna, she expressed interest in the professional baking and pastry arts program. You didn’t expect that she would actually come visit during the week-long break for a tour but it was a surprise you welcomed. You hope you can take her interest and curiosity and inspire her. “Namjoon and Sejeong packed some cookies for you. They told me to say...thanks….for showing me around when you’re busy and stuff.” “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to.” You smile. “Tell them I said thanks too.” “Taehyung’s joining us,” Jungkook reads off his phone and then pockets it. “Apparently, he’s bored.” You shrug. “Fine by me.” “Who’s Taehyung?” Yuna asks. “Just a friend of ours,” you say to ease her obvious worries of the stranger. The three of you wait a few minutes, getting caught up with one another as Yuna talks about what her last classes were about. But soon after, the tall brunette is strolling over with his hands buried in his white hoodie pockets. His hair is disheveled like he just rolled out of bed and you don’t think that’s too far from the truth. “Jimin ditched me to go on some date with the chick from his classic desserts class,” he whines when he gets in ear-shot distance. “I thought I was going to die of boredom.” “Tough life,” you scoff and don’t notice Yuna who’s frozen next to you. Her eyes are wide on the stranger, gaze sweeping up and down at him. She swallows hard before stepping forward and making herself known. “H-Hi. My name is Kim Yuna.” “Oh yeah.” Taehyung grins easily. “They told me about you.” “Did they? I’m glad.” She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. You exchange expressions with Jungkook. This was an awfully familiar situation. “I’m Namjoon’s niece, their boss during their internship.” “I’m Kim Taehyung.” They shake hands and Yuna goes in for the kill without hesitation— “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?” Taehyung is flustered, taken aback by the blunt question. “I….don’t have a girlfriend.” “Great.” Yuna answers swiftly with a big smile. You have to admit, she’s bold. The girl has some guts even you don’t have. And you’ve never witnessed Taehyung this perplexed either. It’s hard to catch someone as spontaneous as him off guard. “How old are you?” Taehyung frowns, an apprehensive expression etched on his features like you’re telling him to touch a gooey substance in the corner of some dirty bathroom stall. “I turned eighteen in May,” she declares bluntly. But Taehyung looks unconvinced despite his slow nod. “That’s barely legal,” he mutters and only you and Jungkook catch it. It’s hard to hold back laughter, but you try your best and interrupt— “Should we start the tour?” You show her around campus, walking through the corridors, directing her where the lecture halls are and what classes are where. You tell her what it was like for first years and you show her the dormitories, the lockers, the dining hall, and the kitchen area. All in the meanwhile, Taehyung sticks to Jungkook’s side like gum. It’s obvious that he’s intimidated by the petite high schooler and it’s an amusing sight. But Yuna is a go-getter and somehow manages to get Taehyung beside her to answer her numerous questions. You and Jungkook fall back, no longer showing her the way and you’re reduced to watching their backsides. “You know what I want to eat right now?” Jungkook turns to you, mumbling, “My soufflé.” Here we go again…. You internally sigh, but maintain a stiff smile. “Uh-huh.” “I should make it for Yuna. She’d be blown away.” “What?” The younger girl twirls around at the mention of her name. Jungkook grins at her. “You like soufflé? I make the best chocolate soufflé here.” Yuna blinks, too innocent to know better. “Really?” “Your soufflé isn’t even that good.” It’s a lie. “I bet I could do it better.” That’s an even bigger lie, but you can’t stop it once it’s spewed out of your mouth. It goes silent. Jungkook stops walking. Taehyung turns around. “You think you can make a better chocolate soufflé than me?” Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow, taking personal offence. You shrug — it’s too late to back down now. “Why not? Can’t be that hard.” Jungkook scoffs with a stupidly smug expression, calling your bluff. “You can barely temper chocolate.” “You underestimate me, Jeon,” you bite back and his lips curl. “Fine. Let’s see then.” // It was a mistake — something said on impulse, after days of irritation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It came tumbling out before you could know better, before you could think twice about the consequences, but now you’re standing in the kitchen at an impromptu competition. “Welcome to the annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!” “This isn’t annual,” you mutter at Taehyung’s unnecessary extravagance. He corrects himself— “Welcome to the first annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!” The word spread like wildfire, but luckily kept only in the group chat. The last thing you needed were acquaintances, classmates, and teachers coming to watch. The guys were noisy enough. And it’s a testament proven with Yoongi coming over, Hoseok sprinting to get here, and Jimin calling to tell everyone to wait for his date to be over. All of it was enough pressure you could handle at the moment. But even Aeri had caught wind of what was going on and decided to come by. It’s clear that there’s still tension between her and Hoseok. You don’t miss the strained expressions they exchange with one another before taking seats on the opposite ends, but you’re glad that they can at least be in the same room as one another. It’s an improvement. A sign of moving on. Yet you don’t dwell on them — not when you have bigger fish to fry at the moment. “Over here we have Y/N who believes she can make a better chocolate soufflé than Jungkook, an aspiring chocolatier who literally took weeks and weeks to perfect this recipe of his to make it the ultimate soufflé—” “Alright, that’s enough,” you cut off Taehyung, the self-designated commentator, before you start actually sweating. Jungkook is competitive. Everyone and their mother knows that. And that fact alone makes you nervous. He might just throw you entirely under the bus and burn your relationship to the ground for the sake of winning. You’re worried — but you don’t show it. You can’t. If he knows you’re fearful, he’ll have the upper hand. So you feign indifference. After all, if there was one similarity between you and Jungkook, it was that you weren’t going to back down without a fight either. You were born a winner and it was going to stay that way. “And to make it more fair and maximize the amount of desserts we get to eat, over here we have Jeon Jungkook who will be making éclair. A pastry made with choux dough filled with cream and topped with chocolate icing. It is a specialty perfected by Y/N, an aspiring pâtisserie chef who dreams of running her own wedding cake catering services someday.” “Two very different dishes that the opposing member has a speciality in.” Taehyung continues to narrate and nods his head, inadvertently making Yuna giggle, “Who can make it better? You’ll be the judge of that.” It’s ridiculous, but you’re not going to cave in or surrender. Not when Jungkook’s ego was insurmountable and you’d never hear the end of it if you gave up. An hour and a half is put on the clock. Your counters parallel to one another while your friends are gathered at the other, ready to watch, eat their snacks and hang around. You momentarily wonder why you never have the privilege of relaxing like them. But you don’t think about it for too long. The moment Taehyung starts the time, you begin. You preheat the oven and begin buttering the ramekins. “How do you feel, Y/N?” Suddenly a whisk is thrusted in your face, almost puncturing your cheek. It’s a makeshift microphone that you push aside. “Fine.” “What are you doing now?” “What does it look like?” You push Taehyung aside, grabbing sugar to coat the dish. “Well alright then.” He laughs and slinks over to Jungkook’s side who’s humming underneath his breath. He’s much too casual as he finishes greasing a cookie sheet and moves to combine butter and water in a saucepan. “How about you, Jungkook?” “Never been better.” The side of his lip is curled. Jungkook’s black long sleeve is pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms, and one peek at him is enough to feel your blood boil. It’s obvious that he doesn’t see you as a threat whatsoever. “You think you’re going to win?” “Unfortunately, I do.” Jungkook plays along with Taehyung’s antics, head so far up in the clouds. “Why unfortunately?” “Well, it’s not everyday I want to crush my girlfriend, but sometimes I just have to.” Jungkook twists to you. “Sorry, babe.” You ignore him, too busy glancing at the label and dumping the chocolate into a small bowl with butter. In the meanwhile, Yoongi chews on his chips and scrutinizes. “Are you sure that’s the right kind?” “Fuck off, Yoongi.” It’s not like you haven’t done this before — you’re just not sure if yours can ever beat Jungkook’s. You whisk in the six egg yolks and add a pinch of sea salt until the melted mixture thickens. At the same time, Jungkook is singing under his breath, forming his pastry dough and piping it out onto his baking sheet. You don’t know how he works so fast, but you concentrate harder, ignoring Jimin asking Yuna if she likes the place so far, disregarding Yoongi’s snarky comments and Hoseok’s music that he turns on as background noise. Once you place egg whites and half a teaspoon of cream of tartar in the electric mixer to beat, you’re finally able to take a moment of relief. Jungkook is also at his mixer beating his heavy cream for the filing. “Nervous, babe?” You scoff at him. “As if.” “Alright then.” Jungkook smirks, almost as if he finds your snobbery endearing. You hate how he can see right through you, but you still maintain the facade anyhow. At this moment, he was your rival first and your boyfriend second. “It smells so good.” Yuna inhales. Aeri smiles at her. “That would be Jungkook's choux pastry in the oven.” “Who do you think is going to win?” Taehyung suddenly asks the high schooler, thrusting the whisk in front of her. She smiles gingerly. “I don’t know. Who do you think will win?” Taehyung hums and ignores the protest of his friend when he says— “I’ll put my money on Y/N.” “Want to bet on it then?” Yuna asks, lashes batting back and forth. “Loser takes the other person to dinner.” “What about you, Chim?” Taehyung immediately diverts his vision, pretending that he doesn’t hear her deal. He even disregards Aeri and Hoseok’s stunned expressions of Yuna’s forwardness. “Who do you think?” You add the sugar carefully, one tablespoon at a time until the egg whites hold glossy, stiff peaks. Then you’re gently folding the egg whites into your soufflé base until it’s a light and fluffy mixture ready to be put into the ramekins. But you know it’s too basic. It would never beat Jungkook’s. So in the midst of your inner hysteria, you sprinkle in a teaspoon of cinnamon and nutmeg. Yoongi, the only person who’s actually watching, quirks his brow but doesn’t say anything. The soufflés are popped into the oven and by then, Jungkook is still working. He’s letting his pastries cool on a rack, his filling already in a piping bag, and he’s busy making the icing. “How do you feel now, Y/N?” “The same.” You shrug. “I know I’m going to win, so…” Your boyfriend lifts his chin, a small smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll see about that.” “You aren’t intimidated whatsoever?” Taehyung asks. “I mean Jungkook’s soufflé was fucking deli—cious. It was like gooey on the inside and so soft, but really crispy on the outside and very, very chocolatey. It felt like an explosion of flavour—” “Alright.” You shut him up and move over to steal Yoongi’s bag of chips, much to his dismay. In the few minutes that you finally get to sit down and rest, you observe Jungkook. In spite of his arrogance, he’s working quite hard. You’re impressed he agreed to make éclairs in just an hour and a half since it usually takes two. But Jungkook works quickly, efficiently, and your eyes can’t help lingering on his exposed forearms, the furrow of his brows, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips. God. As competitive as you are, a part of you doesn’t even care who wins — you already feel like a winner. The beeping of your oven breaks you out of your daydream. “You should wipe off your saliva,” Yoongi mutters out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that you were ogling Jungkook in silence. You glare at the dark-haired man, a silent threat not to say anything lest it becomes clear you have other priorities other than winning. You take your soufflés out of the oven, breathing a sigh of relief when you see them. They all rose. A few with them have cracks and they’re not uniform whatsoever, but it’s more than you hoped for. The aroma of chocolate fills the room, making Yuna antsy in her seat. You begin dusting the top with powdered sugar. “Two minutes left, chefs,” Hoseok warns with a grin, peeking over at Taehyung’s timer. Jungkook is long finished piping his éclairs, already drizzled the chocolate icing over top of it and allowing them to set in the fridge. You step back from your counter as well. “I’m done.” “Same here.” “Finally!” Yuna is cheering. “Can we taste them now?” You’re the first to go since the soufflés are still piping hot. It’s six servings with Yuna receiving the first one since she’s the guest of honour. Then the rest are passed to Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Aeri. They dig in without hesitation and you watch with your breath hitched. “It’s really good,” Hoseok says, chewing in his cheek. “I like it a lot.” Aeri smiles. “You did a good job, Y/N.” “Thanks.” Even if you don’t win, you feel great at your attempt. Yuna hisses when it burns her tongue and she hums after letting it cool. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints from anyone. “The top can be crustier. It’s baked well through though,” Yoongi notes pompously after sniffing his spoonful for the past minute to take in the scent. “Not half bad.” “But is it better than Jungkook’s?” Taehyung asks. It’s silent. No one can give a blatant answer. Jungkook is appalled that they even need to think about it. “Give me that.” He grabs Jimin’s and takes a spoonful. Jungkook bites, chews, and his brows furrow. “What...is that? There's something in there that’s weird. Like the aftertaste is off.” In hindsight, cinnamon and nutmeg probably wasn’t the best idea. But you don’t say anything and you plop your hand on Yoongi’s shoulder as an implicit warning not to speak about it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s your turn to take a taste and the moment it hits your tongue, you know the outcome. It’s miles and miles away from Jungkook’s standards. Your soufflé is good, but not crying-worthy. It doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and make you remember your mother’s home cooking, how you gathered around the table for dessert during warm holidays. The situation only gets shittier when you take a taste of Jungkook’s éclair. The custard is tangy and smooth, pastry crispy and buttery, chocolate icing sweet at all the right places. And all you can think is — what. the. fuck. This guy had to have a cheat code for life. There’s no way he can be so good at everything he does. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s unfair. “What do you think?” Jungkook stares at you in particular, trying to gauge your reaction. You swallow hard, managing a half-hearted shrug. “It’s decent.” It’s clear with his smile he can see you’re trying to hide your true feelings. “Want me to save you seconds?” “I’m fine.” You wave your hand at him, despite your heart saying otherwise. It causes Jungkook to chuckle, but he doesn’t push to spare your pride. It’s hard to tell if his éclair is better than yours — but the mere fact that Jungkook hadn’t even had time to perfect his recipe or practice yet made it this good has your knees weak. You’re glad you don’t have him as your competition on a daily basis anymore. “This is pretty good,” Yuna admits, licking off her fingers. Yoongi seems to be enjoying it as well, eating quietly as he studies it. Hoseok is making noises at the back of his throat and Taehyung nods in approval. “Have you only made this once before?” Jimin asks. “Once or twice. Can’t remember.” Jungkook grins and that’s even more impressive. You’re conflicted of being proud of having such a talented boyfriend and being spiteful of him as a rival. Eventually, Taehyung dismisses the two of you for the rest of them to ‘deliberate’ and judge. You step out into the hallway and Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. “Don’t be too sad when you lose, babe. I’ll comfort you with my golden trophy.” “There is no trophy.” “Hmmm, how about a kiss then?” His nose bumps against you, smiling wide. You feign a pout. “I’ll think about it.” “Alright, love birds.” Taehyung pokes his head out of the door in less than two minutes. “We’ve made our decision.” You gather back together again. All of them are pretending to be very experienced pâtisserie chefs with decades of experience. It’s both an amusing and lame sight — but you don’t comment in case they decide to deduct your points and Jimin grins, reading off the paper he has in front of him. “Y/N, your chocolate soufflé was very moist and delectable. It had the perfect amount of sweetness. We found your techniques to be very competent and proficient. The presentation was great. The texture was very soft and the flavour was very deep. The aftertaste, on the other hand, was unique and different. It caused many to continue tasting to pinpoint what it was. You obviously accomplished what you set out to do and you made a very tasty dessert.” Jimin clears his throat. “And Jungkook, your éclair was alright.” “Y/N wins,” Yuna announces with giddy laughter, arms in the air. “Wait.” Jungkook frowns. “What?” “Me?” You point to yourself, starting to laugh. “I won!” “It was a consensus,” Taehyung spits in the midst of giggles. “This is obviously rigged!” Jungkook protests loudly. “Don’t be a sore loser.” Hoseok shouts and the rest ignore his outcry. Yoongi nods in approval. “Congratulations, Y/N.” You put your hand over your heart. “Thank you.” You didn’t plan this — maybe they were sick of Jungkook’s ego too or maybe they just thought it would be hilarious to see his reaction, but whatever the case may be, you’re glad that they have your back. You lean over to your boyfriend, giving a brief peck on his pouting lips. “This is so rigged,” he mutters, less upset after your kiss. You smile at him and quirk your head to the side. “Life’s rigged, sweetheart. But tell me, how does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” Jungkook scoffs, a grin spreads into his face. // Informal baking competitions are all fun and games, but it’s not so much at the end when there’s a mountain of dishes to wash in the sink and a whole kitchen to clean. The others have long left after satisfying their sweet tooths, so you and Jungkook have been hard at work yet again. But in the midst of wiping down the counters, your eyes stray to Jungkook’s pastries. He’s stepped out for a moment, so you take the opportunity swiftly by its throat. You lurch across the floor and grab an éclair to eat. But as you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while relishing in the deliciousness, you don’t notice the man creeping up on you. “Having those seconds, huh?” You’re scared shitless, jolting, and you whirl around to see Jungkook with his shit eating grin that just screams ‘I knew it’. You’ve been caught in the act. There’s no denying it now. All you can do is swallow your mouthful. “So you liked it that much? You should’ve just admitted it from the start, Y/N. You know I can read you like an open book—” You grab Jungkook by the back of his neck and pull him in for a smothering kiss, just to shut him up. It’s a slow kiss, one where he cleans the cream off your lips and tastes the sugar on your tongue. It’s ambiguous who the real winner is. When you pull apart, you know you both feel like it. “Happy?” Jungkook laughs, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “Very.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook series #MORE FLUFF INCOMING

475 notes · View notes

whydowelove · 3 years

Note

Hii! I hope your still doing ships, could you do it with enhypen, tbz and treasure? If you don't mind ( if not, enhypen and treasure pls ) ^^

i'm an aries, a huge introvert, I like drawing and listening to music, sometimes I like to read ( mostly mangas ) or watch anime. I have a huge resting bitch face and I kinda have a cold personality bcuz I have trust issues with ppl and I dont wanna get hurt. I'm mostly alone, I like hanging out with myself, occasionally I do hangout with my classmates/ siblings. Oh and I love playing games ( video games/ board games I don't mind ) also my mbti is INTP-T

I think I have said enough haha, I hope you have a great day! Stay hydrated and I hope you get enough rest! 💕

Yes, I am still doing them so dw !! I hope u also have a great day, thank you !!! And I’m so tired atm so hopefully I’ll sleep a lot tn 😭

In Enhypen I ship you with Jay !!

Big jay vibes

I can just see y’all together so clearly in my mind

I tried to imagine the other members but jay felt the most compatible imo

Y’all deft watch anime together and read mangas all the time !!!!

You guys with go to like a Manga store or smith and just chill there for hours reading

I feel like if there’s a couch there he’ll be laying down with your head on his chest just reading

Pls, I can imagine is so clearly I hope u can too 😭

Idek if he’s into that stuff but for this I’m going to pretend he does

U GO TO ARCADES AND INTERNET CAFE’S ALL THE TIME

When u win like every game Jay is like 😧

“I let you win”

“Sureee, let’s play again then”

It’s just funny bc u guys have small, stupid arguments like this all the time 😭

It’s nothing you guys take seriously it’s just jokes and you both know that

Draw him.

He will be amazed and happy istg

He loves when you let him look through ur art book

Honestly, he wants a tattoo of ur art on him 😯

Really cool, chill couple that’s kinda just there yk

You guys aren’t really cheesy or cliche ur kinda the opposite and just a really really cool couple

I think you will open up to him and learn to trust him as time goes on

And that’s what he wants. He wants you to trust him and know he’ll never hurt u and in fact he’ll even take a bullet for u 🤷‍♀️

In Treasure I ship you with Haruto !!

Honestly I was gonna choose Junghwan until I really thought abt it

Haruto is very mellow and laid back as well and comes off as kind of cold so I feel like this would workout

It would workout bc u guys are really similar in a way which makes it easy to understand the other

And when u understand someone it’s easier to trust them and get along ykyk

For this one I think you guys would play a lot of games at home instead

Y’all are huge homebodies you’ll do anything to stay home 😭

he will deff watch anime with you

Hell even pretend he’s a character and start doing the moves they’re doing 😭

Same with Manga’s, he’ll read them as well but I think he’d prefer anime

If u don’t already know Japanese I feel like he’d try to teach u

But if u do and all a sudden you start speaking to him in Japanese he’ll be so stunned and think it’s so cool

He’ll make his 😮 face and say smith like

“yOu SpEaK jAPanEse oMg mE tOo!!!”

😭😭

No really, I didn’t know Haruto 😐

Anyways

He likes watching you draw, he’d be so concentrated on the pencil or whatever ur using to draw just following it with his eyes

Ok but Haruto is literally art itself so u better draw him 😠

He likes it when u play with his hair or rub his back, even if h don’t like PDA or affection he’ll do anything to have u do it

He’ll beg on his knees if he has to

So do it!!!!

I don’t think y’all would argue much but when U do it would be a big deal

I feel like when haruto’s annoyed nothing can stop him, he’s so young and isn’t good at controlling it yet

For example he’ll show u a video and you won’t laugh or anything and maybe make a disgusted face and he’s like “...” looking at u with concentrated eyes

And you just look at him through hooded eyelids “what, is that supposed to be funny or something?” and u didn’t mean for it to sound so rude but he got so pissed and walked to his room slamming his door

He didn’t like that u gave him attitude 😭

It’s usually when u show attitude when he’s just trying to be nice, that he gets pissed off

Other than that y’all are pretty chill and get along for the most part

In The Boyz I ship you with Eric !!

Hmm this one was tricky to decide

But I feel like with Eric being so outgoing and loud that he’s able to break the ice pretty easily

Honestly, you started trusting him after knowing him for like a month

He plays video games a lot with you

He gets so pressed when you win and says smth like

“Again!!! AGAIN! I SAID AGAIN LETS GO”

Like he’s all giddy until every rematch u keep winning and then he gets mad and goes beyond try hard mode and still loses 🤦‍♀️

Makes u laugh a lot

He makes everyone laugh a lot so this doesn’t come as a surprise

You guys are opposites and opposites attract

Yeah Yeah 😎

I feel like when ur drawing he’ll sit next to you and try so hard to draw and just draws a stick man or smth 😭

Pls he is so concentrated and his tongue is sticking out and then when he’s done he gets so excited like

“look look !!! It’s my best by far!!”

Until he peeks and sees ur work and just throws the pencil and closes the notebook 😭

He hates staying home so u guys have inconsistent dates

It’s all over the place, one week they’ll be at home and the next they’ll be in another country 😭

I think the only time u argue or get into “fights” is when he wants to go out but u wanna stay home or smith yk

Just something chill ig

Omg when your at his dorm and sunwoo or juyeon is there-

Ur literally leaving 😭

They’re so loud and obnoxious and u really be third wheeling with ur own bf 😐

They really just stole ur man, what U gonna do now

- Photo cr to rightful owners

#the boyz #the boyz ships #the boyz eric #eric sohn #enhypen jay #enhypen ships #enhypen #treasure #haruto #kpop ships #kpop

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real-jaune-isms · 3 years

Text

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 2 Review/Rundown

I feel like this about sums up the general reaction after this week. So let’s dive into how it got out of hand so fast.

We open, a little surprisingly, on a shot we saw at the end of last Volume: Qrow looking at Clover’s bloody badge in his hand. We hear Robyn ranting and raving at someone about how this situation is all their fault, how all she wanted was to bring people together. She’s pacing in her cell, and at first you worry she’s turned on Qrow and hates him for fighting Clover and getting them both arrested, but no. She’s berating Jacques, and thank god someone is. He quotes his daughter in Volume 1 and claims he is a victim, but it was more endearing and memorable coming from the Ice Queen. He continues to assert his innocence, saying Watts used him and his power for diabolical purposes. Sure, he is guilty of many things, but he should not be held responsible for this. And at least his charges don’t include murder. That gets Qrow’s attention, since it was of course a dig at him. That quells Robyn’s fury rather quickly, and she does defend Qrow’s innocence. But she hops right back on the flame train and (while wonderfully insulting his mustache) says she’s not about to agree with the words of an accomplice to Watts’ sins against Mantle. Sure enough, the man of the hour is also in an adjacent cell, and he’s resigned himself to being stuck here like the rest of them. We get a look at where exactly “here” is, a 2 by 2 grid of square cells whose walls are Hard Light Dust shields. It’s a room that’s otherwise rather empty, and the Dust walls seem to be the only source of light. A very makeshift appearance, all things considered, and I worry about Watts being in a cell surrounded by Dust tech he might be able to manipulate. Then again, they took his rings, but he’s got to be pretty resourceful. Meanwhile, Jacques has all the confidence of a spoiled rich brat put behind bars for a misdemeanor. He’s quite sure Whitley will be rushing to get the family’s legal team on the case, and he’ll be out within... well we don’t know exactly how short he thinks his incarceration will last because Robyn gets pissed and punches the wall dividing them. That shuts him up rather well. And really, Jacques-ass? You’re putting your faith in a teenager to help overturn alleged war crimes? What an out of touch prick.

All four of them are shaken from their particular trains of thought by an alarm buzzing and the door opening. Three guards file in, disengage one of the walls of Watts’ cell, and go inside to smack him with the muzzle of a gun and drag his ass outta there. Jacques cringes at the sight of such sudden violence, and Robyn looks momentarily surprised before seeming to accept this. Guess she didn’t expect Ironwood to be so ruthless so soon. She sits back on her bed, which looks like its just a hard slab, and laments being unable to do anything. But Qrow says there is something they can do: kill the man who put them here. To paraphrase Agent Washington, that has got to be the worst plan ever. Of all time. You’re already in jail on murder charges, and now you want to actually cross the line and kill THE LEADER OF A KINGDOM?!?!?! I realize that Ironwood has gone of the deep end and needs to be stopped, but this is not the way to do it. This will only lead to failure, I’m sure of it.

Meanwhile, we cut down to an Atlas news reporter doing a story in Mantle. He’s doing his thing, talking about the unprecedented Grimm hordes and Ironwood not doing anything about it yet. But just as he’s going on about the dedication of his station, the Atlas Eye, Joanna comes up and swipes his microphone to deliver her own message to the people. She tells it like it is, saying that the Happy Huntresses are here to offer aid when Ironwood will not, and spreading the word for people to gather what supplies they can and head for the crater. We see one of the kids from Jaune’s crosswalk scene, and thank goodness his mom is still alive. Joanna talks about all of Mantle coming together to hold the line against the coming Grimm, otherwise the storm at their gates will sweep in to wipe them all out. Yang’s group get into Pietro’s pharmacy, and open the door to the backroom to discover something that makes them very happy. As we saw from the promo clip several months ago, it’s three hoverbikes which we then see them riding through the streets. Yang’s a natural at it, driving up a ramp to do a cool flip off a wall much to Oscar’s panic and discomfort as some of her hair gets in his mouth. Jaune and Ren are... adequate by comparison. Noticing the purple glow of what I presume is Gravity Dust propelling them and allowing the bikes to hover, I wouldn’t be shocked if Yang gives hers a paintjob to be the new Bumblebee: Now with added shipping material! What’s far less pleasant to notice is the Grimm squatting like a gargoyle on the bridge they drive under. We see this thing on the rooftops in a few more shots and then... whooo boy. But we will get there. For now, the biker gang finds more people to protect and help on the journey through town to the crater. One of the Real Thirsty Moms has armed herself with a snow shovel and isn’t totally sure if the crater will be a safe place, but Yang puts on her bravest face to reassure her... just before the screams of people being chased by Grimm get her attention. It’s only two Sabyrs, and Jaune stops their progress by throwing a Hard Light shield spawning grenade that we can assume was with the stash of new gear earlier. Ren drops down to stab both Grimm to death and kicks the quickly deactivating grenade back to Jaune who uses the Gravity in his shield to draw it to him. Very handy with all the tools, bud. Oscar is worried the Grimm Salem has brought with her have already gotten this far into the city, but Yang rationalizes they’re stragglers from the big attack last night. Cuz yeah, we’re still only 12 hours or so removed from the climactic latter half of Volume 7. She doesn’t wanna take any chances though, and asks Ren if Jaune can amp his Semblance up so he can mask the whole crowd for the trip. Ever the realist, he gives a less than encouraging answer, but Jaune sees how badly these people need some hope and comfort. So he makes it into a reassuring promise that the trip will be totally safe and Grimm free. Good job, man. But in every crowd of people, there’s always... a Karen. In this case it’s a grandma who doesn’t want to go stay in the slums among the “animals”, she wants to go to Atlas dammit. But Yang has been waiting to berate someone after the morally grey argument with Ruby last episode, so she takes full advantage of this. This lady might want to be in Atlas, but it’s become clear that Atlas doesn’t want her or any of the other people in Mantle, whereas the Faunus in the crater are showing more kindness than she deserves and giving her a warm place to stay amid all these Grimm. That shuts her up quick, and her daughter (one of the Real Thirsty Moms!) nervously butts in to say that yeah, they’ll accept the offer and she’ll go get their stuff now. We fade to seeing the greyed out crowd walking down the street with Yang giving frontal support, Ren riding on Jaune’s bike in the midst of the crowd to mask outwards in a radius, and Oscar guarding the rear. Grandma Karen is still whining about having to go to the crater, but her daughter is trying to get her to pipe down.

Oscar laments how hard it’s been to get folks to cooperate, with Ozpin chiming in to say he’s preaching to the choir on this one, and that he’s becoming increasingly concerned about that challenge. Oscar grumbles about the unencouraging internal peanut gallery, and Oz gets right to the point. The teens all have every right to be mad at him for dipping on them in Mistral, none more so than Oscar himself, but that’s not what Oscar’s beef is about. He’s mad that he gave him false hope, that in the time Oz was gone Oscar was able to really start coming into his own as a fighter and a member of the team. But now he’s back and Oscar will go back to just being the vessel for the guy everyone really cares about. Oz acknowledges and validates that, but admits that he was never really gone at all so... the merging is still going. Oscar is gaining deep memories and what magic Oz has left, so it’s closer than ever. Neither of them want this to happen, but what can they do? Further up, Ren’s cloaking flickers for a second and Jaune checks on him. He’ll be fine, he’s just got a lot to focus on. Jaune tries to give him a pep talk, but silence is more needed here and Ren is a little snippy in saying so. Jaune seems pretty bummed that Ren is in such a state, but I can’t really say he’s mad at him. More upset with himself and his leadership. One member of his team left to do something else, and the other is in a mental funk he has no clear idea how to help him out of. That’d bum anyone out. Let’s talk about Ren for a moment, actually. I think part of the reason his semblance is working at less than 100% is the same reason he’s pissy with Jaune. He has too many emotions bottled up and he’s trying to ignore them for the sake of staying neutral and calm to be at his best. But if you force yourself to always be neutral, it becomes that much harder to shift into the zen needed for this power. He needs to let himself have emotional highs and lows so he can transition naturally into the middle ground. In other words, TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS, BUDDY!!! It’s also been theorized that his semblance can work for more than just neutrality and he might be projecting his inner turmoil onto the crowd. But that’s yet to be proven. Oz appropriately closes out the scene by saying that they ALL need to figure out a way to work together, but something tells me that’s not coming for another 8 episodes at least.

Changing locales, we see Penny outside of a building with a puffing smokestack on the edge of the city. Turning around, we see where the city of Mantle ends and the slums of the crater begin, and how many people are making there way down from one to the other. But quickly look back, as Blake has just cut off the lock on the chain link gate to the building and May is leading our girl squad inside. That’s right, the one and only May Marigold is coming along on this mission so we get a chance to see her really show her stuff! Nora is grateful for the assist, but May assures her this plan would have definitely gotten Robyn’s backing judging by how much she talked about Amity Tower once she was in the know, so she’s all too happy to help get it up and running. And the Happy Huntresses can afford to be sending her for this, since Fiona has the rest of the team helping her out. The reminder that their partners are off doing a separate mission dampens Blake and Nora’s smiles though... Ruby worries about the safety of going into this place, but once inside Weiss gives the rundown. This is a subsidiary of the Schnee Dust Company that specializes in shipping packages of refined Dust from the mines up to various areas of Atlas through pneumatic tubes. And since it’s a small side business, the worker robots have no direct chain of command to Ironwood, just the Schnees. And Weiss’ grand plan for transportation up to the Atlas military base is something Ruby jokingly suggested back in Volume 2... mailing themselves to their destination. You’re becoming more like that dolt every day... and as a White Rose shipper I love it~ Blake takes this opportunity to rain on Weiss’ confident parade with a dig at the high percentage of buildings in Atlas the Schnee family must own at this rate, and Weiss refuses to comment on how many they actually don’t own. Glad to see Blake being playful like this, shows she’s really comfortable being back with the group again. Everyone spreads out to look for the tube they need, and Penny finds the one for Atlas Academy instead. It reminds her of the confrontations that were had there last Volume, and it clearly still bothers her. Ruby comes over to check on her, and incorrectly assumes Penny’s lamenting about friends fighting is regarding her and Yang. You may be the protagonist, but not everything is about you Ruby. Penny meant Ironwood, Winter, and the Ace Ops, the people Team RWBY had become such fast friends and trusted allies with in Volume 7. The people who are doing and saying such unkind things now, like Ironwood telling her people will die unless she does as she says. Maybe that’s why she’s lingering at this terminal, she’s debating giving herself up to him for the sake of others?

Ruby is having none of this self blaming talk though, and turns Penny around to look her in the eyes as she assures her that no, that isn’t true at all, Ironwood was just saying it to hurt her and make her feel bad enough to come back. Penny admits that she misses the days when she was just the Protector of Mantle, that she now has so much heavy responsibility and duty thrust upon her as the Winter Maiden and she wishes she did not. She was struggling enough to find an identity as a normal girl, now she has a whole other identity to grapple with, it’s all truly unfortunate and sad. Holding her hands in a very similar way to how she did back when she first found out Penny was an android, Ruby assures her that she is still very much the girl she once was. She protected Mantle by taking the Maiden powers so they wouldn’t be misused to hurt the city. This seems to cheer Penny up a bit, and she thanks Ruby for it. The two have another nice hug, before Nora calls out that she’s found the terminal they need. Blake notes that this is the point of no return, and May asserts her confidence that between Penny’s capabilities with the computers they’ll encounter and her own invisibility Semblance they’ve got this in the bag. Penny doesn’t like being referred to as a secret weapon, or a weapon of any kind, but she says nothing about it. For now, let’s praise May for being sassy and cool and doing a cute little curtsy for style. Nora asks the important question of how the heck they’re gonna use this thing, and Weiss goes into tutorial mode again. Just lie back into the tube and hit the launch button, easy enough. Except she was sitting on the edge of the tube for a visual aid and Nora got bored. So ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM goes Weiss up the tube with a frightened screech. Everyone just watches in slack-jawed shock and confusion, but Nora immediately goes giddy at what has just happened and what will soon happen to the rest of them. I can’t imagine what Ruby and Blake must be thinking, not to mention what’s going through May’s mind with this being her first exposure to Nora being... Nora.

But that’s all we get of them for this episode, so Weiss is Schrodinger’s Heiress for the next week. We go to the crater as Joanna heads into a tent where Fiona is hunched over a map coordinating over comms with someone we’ve yet to meet named Crimson. As she finishes the call and whines over how stressful this all is, Joanna drops a small crystal of fire Dust into a sort of furnace and assures her that she’s doing a great job. Fiona absorbs the map into her hand of infinite holding and says Joanna’s big display on the news makes her more qualified for this job. Joanna laughs that off and says it was necessary to spread the word, which seems to be working judging by how many folks are arriving. The group they’re now noticing come in is the one Yang and her squad have just arrived with from Sector 7. The happy lamb does a happy hoppy dance hearing that they’ve already cleared out that sector, and admits her previous doubts that they could manage this much with only half their team. This hits a sore nerve for both Ren and Yang, and the former stomps off while the latter gives a passive aggressive response. They really need to address this soon or it’s all gonna explode in their faces... Oscar wisely changes the subject to ask how they’re managing to house and provide for all these people, and the two Huntresses give a rundown. They’re doing what they can with houses and shelters, and a lot of people are trying to make old mineshafts into someplace livable, and they’ve been looting SDC refineries for Dust to keep everyone warm. Unlike our own society, no one is getting arrested amidst the end of the world. But they substitute that with the terrifying dread of not knowing when the majority of the Grimm will finally attack, what they’re all waiting for. We and the teens know they’re waiting for Salem’s command, for an opening to cause the most damage. And the longer they wait the more the negative emotions build to draw them in. Clever clever, you old witch you. The ominous mood is interrupted by the badger guy from episode 1 running up to inform Fiona that another fight has broken out among the people. He’s voiced by RT founder Gus Sorola, and apparently he’s Fi’s uncle! She seems bummed about having to go break up another fight, but Joanna’s got this one covered. But problems keep coming, and Crimson reports in that there’s a group of Grimm coming in from the east that he can’t handle while transporting civilians. Yang and co are all to ready go get this off Fiona’s plate for her, and we cut to Yang being pursued by a Teryx. We soon see she’s leading it into an ambush, as Ren and Oscar come riding in at an intersection to toss a grenade baton beneath it which presumably contains air/wind Dust because it gets propelled upwards to crash into a bridge and fall back down stunned. Yang gets out of the way and Jaune charges in for the kill. With that job done, Fiona immediately has a new group for them to clear out on the west side. The kids are getting real tired of this constant rushing around killing Grimm, but its part of the job they made such a fuss about going to do so they gotta do it. Oscar points out what I mentioned before, the negativity from everyone worrying when Salem will strike is luring in the stragglers amongst the Grimm. Speaking of stragglers, three Sabyrs come charging up the street much to Ren’s annoyance. But before they can make contact, something gets their attention and they turn tail to run. This puzzles and concerns the team, since Grimm have never retreated before. Before they can finish asking themselves what the Grimm were running from, they get an answer. A large dog-like Grimm pounces on Oscar and starts mauling him and thrashing his body around. He tries to fight back, kicking at one of its legs, but it is unfazed and keeps hitting him until his aura is gone. We see this thing has no eyes to speak of, but it soon gains apposable hands and hind legs capable of bipedal movement. All the better to carry Oscar away with, and shockingly enough, all the better to hold him in front of it as a human shield when Yang comes charging in to try and save him. She has to swerve and avoid hitting the kid, but gets grabbed by the head and tossed against a wall. Ren is the next to attack, but his bullets do jackshit to its back and his “grapple into the enemy and pull myself at it for a kick” has never worked before and continues to not work now. The Hound, as it is named in the credits and in concept art, stretches out its arm much like the Nuckelavee back in Volume 4 and swats Ren away. Jaune is about to charge in too, but Yang warns him about the Hound’s shield tactic. He’s in disbelief, because they may have seen old Grimm that have gained beastial sentience but never this kind of sapience and creative thinking. Ren grabs his guns but the Hound holds Oscar up again to stop him. Ren, naturally, yells at the Grimm to give their friend back.

But the Hound just stretches its neck with a few cracking sounds, and says “No”.

This leaves the huntsmen and huntresses in a silent stupor of shock and fear, and I would not blame them. If all of my world’s history has been telling me that the monsters I hunt are mindless beasts of violence and destruction, nothing more, that’s one thing. If I learn they were created by a deity solely for the sake of destroying my civilization and are nothing but his avatars of darkness and wreckage, that’s a big theological pill to swallow but I still know how these things always tend to act. If I am on 6 hours of sleep vs 28 hours of being awake, just had a big personal argument over what our job should be amidst the apocalypse, and now my entire understanding of the monsters I at least thought I knew how to handle is thrown out the window?????? Yeah, I would need a goddamn minute before I could think rationally and quickly again. So you’ll excuse me for giving Yang, Jaune and Ren a pass as they just stand there and watch the Hound grow bat-like wings in a very painful and goopy transformation that gets some goo on Oscar’s unconscious face and then climbs up a building with Oscar in its mouth to fly away. When they do recover their senses they hop on their bikes and chase after the beast at full speed, giving a hasty and vague apology to Fiona for having to go handle this emergency that she wouldn’t believe even if they told her. And that’s it, we have to wait a week or longer to find out if they catch this thing and get Oscar back. Judging from the intro, I’d say they won’t and he will be brought before Salem for torture. Fun!~ This definitely opens the door for brand new possibilities of what Grimm are capable of doing or being, and lots of people are theorizing the Hound is so intelligent because Salem stuck a person in there, possibly someone we thought was dead but perhaps isn’t? Who knows, we’ll have to wait and see.

Sorry it’s so late, but hope this is a good review.

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acciomalfoy · 4 years

Text

Oblivious (Eddie Kaspbrak x reader)

"Hi. How are you? It's uh, it's been a while." It had been four weeks, which in hindsight was way too long to be apart from Eddie.

"I'm good. She's getting better, slowly." Your grandmother had been on deaths doorstep a little over a month ago. She had been the glue holding the family together for the past ten years, and the entire extended family had shown up at the hospital. It had been over seven years since some aunts and uncles had seen you, and you failed to remember almost all of their names.

"That's good. Um, I wrote notes for you. In each lesson, since we're in all the same classes and I thought it would help because exams are in, like, two months and you missed a whole month of preparation." Hermione Granger who? Eddie shuffled a small stack of papers over to your desk. The front page was highlighted, underlined and had stars around the title. Typical Eddie.

"Thanks, Eds! God, my mom will freak if I fail my exams." You exclaimed with a beam that Eddie returned.

"Anyway, how have you been? Did you tell her you liked her?" You were referring to Eddie's crush. She had been spoken about, but Eddie had refused to tell anyone what her name was, which sucked. It'd be better to know which girl to be jealous of, instead of having to make wild guesses.

"What? No way! I'll tell her when Richie stops joking about my mom." Eddie decided.

"Eddie! Richie will never stop! Come on, you know I won't tell anyone!" You said, hands clasped together. Eddie laughed.

"Alright. I'll tell her to meet you in the bathrooms after third."

"Yes! God, Eddie, finally! If it's Gretta, I'm warning you, I may cry. You know, out of actual pain for you." Eddie laughed again, and your heart soared.

"No, no. I have better taste than that. Way better taste."

"I'm going to fucking kill Eddie." You muttered. It was five minutes into fourth, and the only person in the bathroom was yourself. The tap was dripping slowly, and you reluctantly turned it off before you went mad.

The mirror had smudges all over it, and you could see your reflection. The usual messy hair, the typical outfit, and the same old face. You frowned. What did Eddie's crush have that you didn't? If he liked a cheerleader, your name would be first on the tryouts list. If he was into some nerd, then books would fill your bedroom while he filled your heart. It was driving you insane not knowing which clique his crush fit into.

"Fucking dead." You muttered as you stalked out of the bathroom. It wasn't about being late for history and receiving an afternoon detention, it was about Eddie being a liar. Of course, you weren't mad at him. You knew that. You were mad, scathing mad at his crush.

"He's fucking dead."

"Where's (Y/n)?" Richie asked. The losers were at the bike shed, glancing around in each direction. There was no sign of their best friend.

"Oh. Shit. She might have a detention." Eddie concluded. Heads spun.

"Why?" Bill asked. He was immensely proud of being able to manage short answers without stuttering.

"I-Uh, I cant say." Eddie shifted uncomfortably.

"You can, and you fucking will." Richie demanded.

"I told," Eddie swallowed.

"I told her that my crush would meet her in the bathrooms after third and before fourth." Eddie explained. Stan rose an eyebrow.

"Is that it? Did she find out who it was?" Beverly asked eagerly.

"Um. She would have seen her, but I don't think she realised that that's my crush." Eddie chewed his bottom lip, a nervous habit he had picked up.

"If she didn't realise.. Is it Gretta or some fuck face?" Richie placed his hands on his hips, and Beverly, Stan and Ben burst out laughing. Bill sniggered, and took a mental photograph. He'd enjoy drawing that later.

"No! Ew! That's what (Y/n) said! It's not. It's someone way better. Basically a queen, no, a goddess compared to Gretta." Eddie looked happy talking about his crush, and Beverly decided that no matter who it was, she would support Eddie. Richie 'the nerd' Tozier, figured it out.

"Holy fuck! That's such a smart way of telling her who you like! God, the second I get a crush on someone I'll do that. But it's also pretty stupid. She'll be mad, Ed's, really mad." Richie clapped Eddie on the back, and he almost fell over.

"Oh!" Stan and Bill exclaimed at the same time. Bill, Eddie, Richie, Stan and (Y/n) had grown up together, and could practically read each other's minds.

"What?" Ben asked, gaze flickering between Richie and Eddie.

"Want to fill us in on your telepathic conversation?" Beverly said in amusement.

"Eddie likes (Y/n), and she would have seen her own reflection in the bathroom." Stan explained. He glanced at Eddie to double check. Eddie nodded miserably.

"She doesn't like me back, but at least she won't really know. Unless she figures it out. Holy shit, what if she figures it out?" Eddie's voice grew higher with every word he squeaked.

"She does li-like you. Like two m-months ago when you f-f-first told us you had a cr-cru-crush, she confessed to m-me. It was kind of p-pit- pitiful, watching her pine o-over someone whose as o-o-oblivious as she is." Bill snickered quietly. Eddie's head snapped upwards.

"What the fuck? Is this some kind of joke?" He looked at everyone in the small circle.

"Ew. She has terrible taste. Better make your move, Eddie, before someone else sweeps her off her feet." Richie pointed out, quite bluntly in Eddie's opinion.

"I can't. She'd never like me as much as I like her." Eddie said miserably. The Losers exchanged a glance. What a delusional fool.

"Kaspbrak! Get your puny little ass over here!" You shouted as you pedalled over to the Losers as fast as you could. Eddie pushed Stan in front of him, who grinned at you.

"Now is not the time to tell me to be a vegetarian, Stan. Eddie, I'm going to kill you! I got my first detention of the whole fucking year thanks to you!" Eddie swallowed.

"She told me she was there?" Eddie looked terrified, and you almost laughed.

"Well, she fucking wasn't." You rifled through your bag and found a wad of gum. You threw it at Eddie as hard as you could. He let out a shriek, and Richie dove for the packet on the ground.

"Wicked! It's still got four pieces! Thanks, (Y/n)!" Richie beamed.

"Oh, also. You're Eddie's crush. Get it, because you would have looked in the mirror and seen yourself. Fuck off Eddie!" Richie squealed when Eddie threw his fanny pack at the bespectacled boy. Your eyes widened comically. Stan and Bill exchanged a glance, while Beverly and Ben exchanged something similar.

"No you're not! Ew!" Eddie shrieked like a bird. Your mouth opened.

"I get you don't like me, Eddie, but that's just fucking rude." You decided. Eddie looked helplessly at Richie.

"It's fine, Ed's. She likes you too. She told me about it in maths." Richie smirked triumphantly at your face.

"Fuck off, jackass. No one was asking for your opinion." You stuck the bird up at Richie, who began chomping on YOUR gum loudly.

"Fuck you too. I just got a couple together, pull my pants down and call me Cupid." Ben snickered, and Stan high fived Richie.

"What? No, you didn't!" Eddie almost shrieked. There's not much that can be done when the pair involved are refusing point blank to believe the other likes them.

"Well, I have to go. Eddie, you're still on my hit list. Richie, you better watch your fucking back. Everyone else, have a nice night." You shouted as you pedalled away from the quarry where you had found the losers. Time to face facts. Edward Kaspbrak does not like you in any way other than a friend. Get it through your thick head.

"Eddie! The fuck was that?" Richie groaned. Eddie looked confused.

"What was what? We're just two friends, and I've hopelessly fallen for someone who doesn't like me back and that's totally cool." Even Stan could tell Eddie was going to cry.

"She does fucking like you." Stan shouted in annoyance.

"What?" Eddie whispered. Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"She does like you, dip shit! Why would we lie about that? Go get your act together because I push you into the fucking water." Stan ran a hand through his hair tiredly. Eddie gulped.

"I'll do something tomorrow, I swear I will."

#eddie kaspbrak x reader

33 notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Blue Star | Oikawa x Reader | Ch. 2

cr- Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

- Word Count: ~ 2600

- Genres: Fluff, angst, Ushijima doesn’t know what a meme is

- CW: Mild swearing, and sexual implications/content

- Summary: Sometimes, (Y/N) wonders if it was hard for her father to send her away. To a new prefecture, a new home, a new school. It all just might be worth it when after becoming the (suspiciously knowledgeable) manager of the Aoba Johsai boys’ volleyball club, she meets Oikawa Tooru. Together, they do their best to exorcise demons they thought would never leave. They learn about progress, when to strive for it, and when to accept the realities that cannot be changed.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next (coming soon!)

“Then what character would Oikawa be?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I’d be Togami!”

“Shut up, you’re not hot enough to be Togami.”

Oikawa looked at (Y/N), horrified. He nudged Iwaizumi to the side, forcing the

shorter boy to share half his desk chair. Bracing his forearms on the desk, he asked, “(Y/N)-chan, that’s what you like? The nerdy asshole type is what gets you?”

“Byakuya is a fine anime boy, change my mind,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms.

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

Iwaizumi nodded along, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Oikawa, gives me strong Monobear vibes,” she added.

“I see it,” Iwaizumi agreed.

As the classroom filled up, (Y/N) was getting more and more uneasy. Lately, Oikawa hung around her and Iwaizumi’s desks to chat and hang out before class started. During lunch, the three of them sat in the classroom together and watched anime on (Y/N)’s phone. Ya girl had Runchykroll Premium like a bad bitch, she doesn’t go with the standard membership. She doesn’t speak broke.

Today, though, it felt like people kept looking at her. She was used to getting side-eye at her old school, but it was weird to be getting it at a new school where she hadn’t done anything to draw attention to herself. At least, as far as she knew.

She noticed some girls off to her left openly staring at her, she raised a questioning eyebrow, to which they quickly turned away and frantically whispered among themselves.

“I, uh,” (Y/N) mumbled, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“Have fun,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Uh huh.”

(Y/N) got up out of her seat, uncomfortably aware of the eyes watching her every move. Even walking down the hallway, groups of students stopped their conversations to gawk at her.

When she finally made it to the bathroom, she let out a soft sigh of relief.

‘Well, that was weird,’ she thought.

She turned the sink to its coldest setting, leaning forward to splash some on her face. Behind her, she heard the bathroom door open behind her, though she thought nothing of it.

Straightening up, she saw three girls in the mirror, glaring back at her. The four of them stared at each other for a bit, waiting for the other to say something.

‘Dammit, I’m in a kdrama and I’m a poor laundry girl and these are my bullies and I’m gonna have to get with some rich asshole with a bad perm,’ (Y/N) wanted to cry in frustration.

Just one day. Couldn’t she get just one day where people minded their own business instead of getting all up in hers?

(Y/N) turned around to face the group, faking a smile and moving to shuffle past them. The bigger girl on the side shoved her backwards, making her stumble a little.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, annoyed.

“What’s your relationship with Oikawa-san?” the one on the left demanded.

‘Oh boy, I really am in a kdrama. Or a teen movie. Do I have to be the Lindsay Lohan of this movie? Wait, no, I wanna be Regina George. Wait, shit, she gets hit by a bus. Ooh, actually, maybe I do wanna be Regina George.’

“Nonexistent, I guess?” (Y/N) shrugged, “I’m gonna go.”

“Not so fast!” the one in the middle said. She seemed to be the leader, with natural-looking dyed red hair, though you could see the brown roots beginning to grow out. Trifling Bitch had a slim figure, and stood taller than (Y/N) herself.

“We’re not done talking to you,” Bad Dyejob Regina George glowered.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. After everything that happened at her old school, her bullshit tolerance had gone up. The thing was, she was getting her first weeks of peace in a long time, and she’d be damned if she loses it because of Oikawa and his fangirls.

She pursed her lips, “Yeah, well, I’m done talking to you, so I’m gonna walk out of here, and you’re gonna make it easy for me to leave.”

Making her way towards the door, she maintained eye contact with the giantess on the right, daring her to touch her again.

“Don’t think you and Oikawa-san are on the same level just because he took the train home with you,” Annoying Beanpole called after her.

‘How would she--?’ the train is usually empty around the time she and Oikawa are on it, ‘Except…’ She remembered those two girls wearing the same uniform as her. Glances were typical, when she was with Oikawa, but in hindsight, those two were looking over much more than the average fangirl.

‘Of fucking course.’

“We’re just here to warn you that you’re not worth his time,” Completely Irrelevant finished, smiling as if she’d won.

“Whatever makes your life better, girlfriend,” (Y/N) dismissed.

Getting-On-Her-Last-Nerve put her hands on her hips, “I’m serious! Stay away from Oikawa-san, or else!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I’m shaking.”

With that, she shoved past them and stalked through the door.

No way. No way she was doing this again. Things had gotten so bad at her old school, she got shipped off into the next prefecture just so she could make it through the year. There was no way in hell that she’d go through that again so she can hang out with Oikawa.

Whenever she had the time, she could study with Wakatoshi, or she could spend time with Iwaizumi when Oikawa wasn’t around. Either way, she wasn’t about to sacrifice her peace for anyone. Not even him.

Sliding back into her seat, she caught the tail end of their conversation, “--can’t today. My grandmother has grocery shopping to do, and I always go with her.”

“You’re everyone’s dream grandson, aren’t you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa turned to her, “Come get food with me after practice?”

After what just happened in the bathroom, (Y/N) was inclined to say no, but those big doe eyes and enthusiastic smile were making it difficult.

‘Crap. You’re gonna make me fall for you, and you won’t even feel sorry for it, will you?’

“You’re not coming, Hajime?”

The tanned boy shook his head, “Not today. My grandmother needs me to carry the groceries.”

“M’kay, we can get breakfast in the morning, if you’re free?” she offered.

The two boys in front of her gave their agreements.

“But you’ll still get food with me today, right?”

“We’re already getting breakfast in the morning, why do you--”

“But I’m craving milkshakes now,” he whined.

(Y/N) frowned, “I thought you were lactose intolerant?”

“I am, but I’m not a weak bitch. Also, ever heard of lactose pills?”

Iwaizumi facepalmed. (Y/N) sighed, wondering how she ended up associated with this type of person.

‘Oh my god, I can’t believe this boy,’ she thought. Then she remembered that little exchange in the bathroom, and how those three girls were completely happy ordering her around. Backing down, acting like she never met Oikawa, it would be easy on her, sure. She stole a glance at him and his big, dumb smile and his stupid brown curls. (Y/N) thought about how nice it was to have him and Iwaizumi as friends and how happy going home from school with Oikawa made her.

‘Fuck it. Fuck you and your mean girl stereotype and the fact that you think you can order me around. I know what my own personal hell looks like. I’ve been there. So now? I’m going to do whatever I want, whether you like it or not.’

“Alright, fine,” she sighed while Oikawa cheered in victory.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into with him,” Iwaizumi said.

(Y/N) sighed, “I hope so too.”

“Wouldn’t Hajime look good with a nose piercing?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly.

Oikawa took a long sip of his milkshake, leaning back in the booth.

“Yes, but you know what would look even better? A lip piercing.”

(Y/N) gaped at him, “I’d be gone. That would kill me.”

“Tell me about it. I’m handsome and everything, but dear god, Iwa-chan is something else.”

“I get why you have a fanclub, but why the hell doesn’t Hajime have one? That boy is a work of art. And he uses those arms to help his grandmother! Tell me that’s not prime boyfriend material!”

“No doubt, no doubt. Maybe it’s because I’m flashier than he is? I mean, I interact with my fans. When girls come up to Iwa-chan, he just thanks them and leaves.”

“F’s in the chat.”

“F.”

Considering she had just moved to Miyagi, she didn’t know any good hang out spots. The diner Oikawa brought her to was very American 50’s style with its neon signs and leather booths. It was cute. She never saw anything like this back home. But despite how fun it was just hanging out with Oikawa like this, the conversation from earlier still lingered in (Y/N)’s mind. Curiosity having gotten the better of her, she asked him,

“Do you know a redhead girl? Tall, greenish eyes, hangs out with two other girls, one of which looks like she could snap your neck with one hand?”

“Sounds like Tachibana Akari. Why? Are they bothering you?” Oikawa asked seriously.

(Y/N) waved her hands in front of her.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just… I dunno, I was curious.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Good, because I am,” (Y/N) sighed, “Do I have to tell you?”

“I can’t make you do anything, obviously, but I’m your friend, and it’d be nice if you opened up to me about these things.”

The shorter girl gave him a dirty look, “That was weirdly honest.”

Oikawa shrugged, “Well?”

(Y/N) stirred her milkshake, “They’re just being kinda petty, is all. Your fangirls get

a little possessive, is all.”

(Y/N) tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing with what's-her-face

itself wasn’t, but if hanging out with Oikawa was gonna get her bullied, (Y/N) was having a hard time deciding if it was worth it.

“Yeah, they get like that sometimes. They mean well, it’s just...” he trailed off.

“Bitches be cray?” she offered. Oikawa nearly choked on his drink. His clenched fist came up towards his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles.

‘Ugh, he’s adorable. Gross.’

“Maybe a little… But they’re not gonna do anything to you. I think.”

“You think?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I think. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Whatever.” (Y/N) swatted at the hand creeping towards her fries, “It’s not a big deal. I was just curious, I guess-- Hey, fuck off, you have your own fries.”

“You got curly fries! How are you not gonna share?”

“Come near my fries again, and I will end you,” she threatened. The glare in her eyes gave Oikawa a clear warning that she was not playing around. This bitch will end you if you come near them fries.

The teens stared at each other intensely, the look in their eyes challenging the other. For Oikawa, two things could happen if he goes for the fries.

One, she ends his ass and he can have curly fries in the afterlife. (Y/N) goes to jail for his murder, but the jury finds out her motive and they say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s fair,’ and she ends up with 3 months community service instead.

Two, his prayers are answered and she soft enough for him by now and lets him take them.

Honestly, even he wasn’t going to take those odds. He settled down and picked at his own regular fries.

“This is just my opinion, but if I were you, I’d do the opposite of what they want me to do.”

“So you think I should hang out with you more?” she asked.

Oikawa waved a fry around as he spoke, “Yeah. Out of spite.” He took one of her fries while she was distracted, “But it also shows that you don’t care about what they want you to do.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “That’s what you’d do cause you’re a petty bitch.”

“Yeah, but maybe petty’s the way to go.”

She stopped to think about it for a moment. When she transferred to Seijoh, she planned to let any kind of drama roll off her back, like Wakatoshi advised her to. The problem was, that just wasn’t her.

Oikawa started talking about some dumb thing Makki and Mattsun did that got them in trouble with the captain. (Y/N) hardly noticed as she watched those soft lips move around his words. Did he use a lip scrub? He totally would. That boy probably bought the latest Cactha one, preordered.

‘You know what? Maybe I will do the opposite of what they want me to do. Stay away from him? So I’ll…’

Before common sense could kick in, she shoved their food to the side. While Oikawa was busy being confused, she grabbed him by his Aoba Johsai VBC jacket and yanked him towards her.

Just inches away from him, she asked, “Yes or no?”

Oikawa wished he could have recovered from his confusion sooner, but all he could really do was nod his head yes.

She tilted her head, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. They were just as soft as they looked.

The tall boy sighed into the kiss. He was just about to cup her cheek before she pulled away out of breath. At the loss of her lips, Oikawa whined in displeasure.

(Y/N) stopped halfway out of her seat, “Did you just whine?”

“No?”

She smirked evilly, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Oikawa found himself being dragged by the wrist out the door. When he invited (Y/N) out, he wasn’t expecting this outcome, but damn if he wasn’t grateful.

“My parents are out of town on an overnight trip,” he said simply. The girl in front of him nodded, getting the hint.

Once inside his house, (Y/N) was on him again. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. Long fingers dug into her hips to keep him grounded. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air.

“So,” he panted, “Is this how you’re getting back at Tachibana?”

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off, “Yep. Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he slipped his fingers under her shirt, “Maybe a little more than okay.”

Oikawa sat her down on the bed. As he loomed above her, (Y/N) snickered.

“Cute,” she said sarcastically.

The much bigger boy above her yelped as she slammed him down on his bed. (Y/N) straddled his hips. Her smaller hands ran over the outline of his abs.

Oikawa looked like he wanted to protest. His large hands gripped her thighs.

“Please,” he whispered.

(Y/N) put her hand to her chin and pretended to think.

“Hmm. Please what?”

He looked stressed, “Please, (Y/N)-chan?”

She smiled, “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll allow it.”

Unbuttoning her already horribly rumpled shirt, she sat against the headboard and spread her legs. Oikawa all but lunged at her, his curly brown locks disappearing under her uniform skirt. Her hands found purchase in those locks and he had to clamp her inner thighs with his strong hands to keep her from crushing his skull.

“Oikaw-- Ahhh!” she squealed when he made contact. He smirked against her center. One elegant finger looped around her panties.

“Can I take these off?” he asked.

(Y/N) glared down at him over the one hand covering her mouth.

“Yes!”

“Alright, alright,” he giggled, “Itadakimasu~”

God, he was fucking insufferable.

(E/N): I pay for Runchykroll Premium in this group, and my wallet does little cries every month. Also any Danganronpa fans here?

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

(A/N): This took so long. I sorry. Words hard. Mango dead.

- Admin Mango-Chan

Taglist: @cristaldoodleskies @br0kenskeleton

#oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu #ushijima #Ushijima Wakatoshi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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salamanderskin · 4 years

Text

Respite

Still on the CR kick with no sign of easing. Just a sick Fjord feeling sorry for himself and then feeling guilty about it. Caduceus gives him such much-needed softness. Set during episode 92 no spoilers I think. Kind of a follow up to this because stifles give me life.

The mood in the group is strange when the Mighty Nein ride out from Zadash.

Fjord loves them all but his head aches just trying to keep track of the aims and worries and triumphs that bind their little group; he can read the tension rising from Beau like steam, Jester beside her with a combination of concern and bubbling joy at her new found father. Then there’s Caleb and Nott and Yasha and then there’s Caduceus. He feels like he needs a whole extra brain to think about Caduceus with and maybe a whole extra heart to hold the bond that has grown between them in the past few weeks.

His head really does ache, though. His throat feels hot and dry, with a lancing pain when he swallows, and he can’t stop sniffling every five minutes. His mood darkens in sync with the clouds that thicken on the horizon. He would give a lot to be safely back in the Xorhaus, meditating in the magical sunlight of Caduceus’s garden, rather than pounding across these monotonous grasslands on horseback.

He feels small and selfish just thinking about it. They are in the midst of trying to stop a war and chasing resolution for dear friends trapped by years of trauma. One of their group was possessed until, like, last week, others have been or are about to be reintroduced to their respective abusers. And Fjord has a cold.

He still feels shitty, though.

He is distracted from this minor complaint when the party finally find a place to stop. The gentle, grassy slopes offer no cover, but they could see anything coming a mile away. For example, they soon spot someone else’s campfire a little way away. Nott and Jester leap to investigate. He lets them go. If they need backup they’ll yell. Loudly. Let them do the legwork while he sits down.

That leaves the other three to set a fire while Caleb conjures the tiny magical hut which is their home away from home. Fjord can’t seem to get warm. He inches closer to the fire until the smoke irritates his eyes and rubs at his arms with his palms to try to gather some heat. The itchiness in his nose has grown intense and distracting- he hovers a hand near his face to scrub at it but the irritation with neither leave nor crest into a relieving sneeze. His throat burns and he feels overall miserable. “Hey, are you ok? You look… I don’t know… you look frustrated.”

That’s one word for it. He doesn’t want Caduceus to worry, but he also knows the Firbolg can see right through him so he explains, “Remember how you said I might be getting sick?”

“Oh dear,” Caduceus’ mouth twists in sympathy.

“Nothing serious, I promise you. I’m just-” Fjord sniffles in demonstration, demonstrating how he can hardly breathe through his nose. He regrets it immediately when it makes him cough.

“Can I come check you over?” Caduceus approaches, gaze soft and concerned.

“There’s really no need, I’m sure it’s just a cold.”

Caduceus raises an eyebrow. “What if I want to be sure? I don’t want you to feel badly.”

“Well then, I’ll humour you.”

Fjord doesn’t expect the contact needed for the diagnosis to come in the form of a kiss to the forehead, but it’s very lovely. The magic feels like a little trickle of warmth, though perhaps that’s just the butterflies he always gets when they make contact.

“Okay.” Caduceus says, drawing back. “I don’t think a healing spell will do much, but I’ll put something for the congestion in some tea, alright?”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

The dark has truly drawn in now. The sky has clouded and there are no stars. A little wind ruffles the long grasses, makes the campfire leap and the smoke veer from side to side so that there is no getting away from it. After their time in the city is strange to be somewhere so open. No buildings, no mountains, no break in the horizon. The sky arcs above them like a great upturned basin, thick with clotting clouds.

It would be peaceful if it wasn’t for how the cold makes Fjord’s nose drip and his head ache. He feels thoroughly sorry for himself and then immediately feels childish for it. He has been getting soft from all the city living. He presses the sides of his nose again, trying to push into his sinuses and ease the dull pain there.

Caduceus returns just as he is blowing his nose, passes a cup of tea to Caleb, then to Yasha then approaches with one for Fjord. “Here you are. Drink it while it’s hot.”

The firbolg looks lovely in the firelight, Fjord thinks. The warmth touches his ashy gray to a warm dove-colour and when he turns his head, the clean lines of his cheeks and brow stand out like a statue of some forest god. Caduceus has added a knitted shawl over his shoulders but he doesn’t seem cold at all. Fjord envies him that. It must be the fur. He sees Caduceus turn to sit on a stump on the other side and quickly moves up to make space beside himself.

“Want me to sit beside you?” Caduceus asks.

“Yes please.” Fjord says. He wants more, of course, so much more than that, but that is a good start. His friend’s body settles beside his and he feels his mood lift even as he shivers. Their thighs press together and he leans in to the comforting warmth of the firbolg’s flank. Caduceus has some height on him, which makes it wonderfully easy to lean his head into his shoulder.

Before Fjord can protest, Caduceus removes his shawl from his shoulders and spreads it over both their laps. Fjord gives a little hum of thanks, lets his eyes drift closed in the sudden, soothing warmth of it.

Fjord could probably fall asleep here. He almost does, if it wasn’t for how badly he needs to sneeze. He manages to cup his hands over his face, though he doesn’t need to, really; there isn’t any sound to it, just a ferocious bob of his head and a whole-body shudder. He scrunches his nose and clenches his eyes shut to try to fight the tickle, then flinches into another repressed “hh- mmkx!!!” He breathes out a “uuugh” of a groan at how stuffy he feels afterwards.

“Was that a sneeze?” Caduceus turns to look at him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“Y-up- hknt!” Fjord nods, forefinger jammed up under his nose, sneezes again. It makes his head throb. “--hhnxxt!”

“Oh! Bless you, then.”

“Thadks.” His voice comes out thick and wrecked. “Guhh… ’scuse me.”

It’s almost worth it for how Caduceus draws him closer and rubs his back.

They are startled from the embrace by a shout and a blur of blue as Jester sprints toward them out of the dark and then away again, calling for Nott.

Fjord raises his head, peers out into the night and strains his ears for sounds of a struggle. Across the other side of the fire, the others are on equally high alert; Yasha drawn to her full height, Beau with her night-vision goggles, Caleb’s gaze gone vague as he sees through the eyes of his familiar.

“Do you think we should-?” Caduceus begins.

“They... seem to have a handle on the situation.” Caleb gives with a wry smile and everyone relaxes. If Caleb hasn’t launched himself protectively after the little goblin then they must be safe enough.

Fjord laughs too, as he wonders what shenanigans the two most chaotic members of the nein had got up to out there in the dark. It turns into a fit of coughing that blossoms in his throat and won’t stop until Yasha has passed him her water skin.

“Better not, think I’m coming down with something.” He manages with the scraps of breath he can grab. “I’ll risk it,” Yasha’s voice is steady and sweet as ever, so he drinks. It does help, and it helps even more when she reaches to give him a hug from one side. “I hope you feel better soon, Fjord.”

When Nott and Jester finally return it is with laughter on their lips and not a slip of regret for running into an enemy camp in the middle of the night.

Once he might have rolled his eyes at their celebration of escaping trouble they could have easily avoided, then seethed with a gut full of worry that one day they might not come out clean, snapped at Nott and brushed off Jester’s affectionate advances. These days he feels calmer, more trusting, able to accept things as they come. Some of it is a gift from the Wildmother, the same deep faith which Caduceus glows with. Some of it is Caduceus himself. His very presence makes Fjord feel lighter.

He watches the Firbolg lean over the fire, lit like a stained-glass window as he conjures a bowl of stew seemingly from nowhere.

He sits beside the fire and listens to his teammates recount their chaotic adventures with a sense of calm in his belly and Caduceus’ shawl over his knees. He pinches his nose hard and groans, trying to stave off sneezes but now then a few still escape.

He shudders into his fist, with no more sound than a “-hh'nkt” of suppressed force,

They’re as quiet as he can make them, but Caleb’s head perks up all the same, brows canted in his familiar expression of mild concern. “Gesundheit.”

“Looking a little green there, buddy.” Nott adds.

“Oh no, Fjord, are you sick?” Jester’s head snaps round in interest.

“Just a sniffle.” He shrugs. He’s not the one who should be the centre of attention tonight. Beau and Nott are.

Thank the Wildmother, Caduceus Clay’s deep, steady voice distracts them from making a scene, “He’s fine. Jester, tell me how you met those bandits before?”

Once again Fjord admires Caduceus’ mild diplomacy. The light conversation is exactly what they need to keep their minds from the path ahead. Beau in particular has expressed she won’t be talking about her traumas to the group in general,while Nott doesn’t seem to know what she wants right now.

Fjord himself is deeply grateful because he has to sneeze again and this time it escapes him as an orcish “hhuhh--’TSSSHHHuu!” He groans and swears as he blows his nose afterwards. Caduceus’ arm is there for him to lean into when he shivers despite the fire.

“I think you should go to bed,” Caduceus says softly.

Luckily the rest of the Nein are of the same mind, so Caleb conjures the magical dome they use as a shelter. It’s warmish inside and warmer still when their bodies pile in next to each other. They take their familiar places; Yasha takes first watch, Beau and Jester are spooning while Nott curls at Caleb’s feet like a gnarly green cat. Fjord and Caduceus lie beside each other, as always. At some point on their travels, the foot of space between their sleeping bodies became an inch, became Fjord with his head pillowed Caduceus’ chest or their fingers intertwined. No one in the Mighty Nein has even teased them about it. Yet. That is a blessing Fjord will enjoy for as long as he can.

It’s almost pitch-black inside the hut. Fjord can hear the others of the Nein breathing and shifting in their close proximity. He wants to sleep but his head feels stuffed and thick. Breathing through his mouth is making his throat dry but he can’t get enough air any other way. In frustration he pinches and knuckles at his nose, wiggling it in hope of easing the deep-seated itch. It doesn’t help.

Instead he feels his breath coming in shallow pants, makes an involuntary “ghhh” of a groan at how congested he feels. He manages to sneeze into his fist without more than a shudder of his head but then there’s another and another in a slow, exhausting fit with plenty of time for miserable sniffles in between.

He is hovering between one “ hh'nkt” and the next when he feels a tender arm on his shoulder as Caduceus scoots up closer to him. He rolls over obligingly until his head is cradled against the firbolg’s shoulder. In a moment their blankets are settled over both of them, welcoming him into a pool of shared body heat that makes him sigh in satisfaction.

It’s still recent enough to be novel, this sleeping together, still sends a flutter of joy through him that Caduceus is his now. They haven’t talked about what it means exactly, but he’s so glad of it, especially when he feels like this.

The moment is interrupted by a stinging itch in his nose and all he can do is buck his head and stifle a sneeze into Caduceus’ chest. His partner doesn’t flinch, just holds him tighter and lets it happen. “Bless you sweetheart. Are you done?”

He nods, then shakes his head and desperately crushes his nose into his fist for a hard double “--mmkx!--’nkt!”--- Repressing it makes his head spin. He relaxes again with a heavy sigh and turns to wipe his nose. He’s too congested for it to be messy, thank goodness. It feels like all the gunk is just stuck up in his head. At least he’s not noisy enough to wake the others.

“Poor thing. Feeling worse?” Caduceus notices. His bass voice is so low it is barely a rumble in his chest. Fjord thinks he feels the vibration rather than hears it.

“...yeah…” He admits.

“Such bad timing…” Caduceus sighs softly. “If we were back in the house, I have a very good soup recipe for this kind of thing. The hot tub would be good for you too. I could take care of you a little.”

Fjord snuffles thickly and sighs. That does sound good.

“Will you two SHUT UP!?”

That sounds less good. That would be Beauregard.

She has reason to be tense, which is why Fjord merely grunts “Sorry!” instead of snapping back. Her complaint is backed up by some light grumbling from Nott and by Caleb clearing his throat in a way that makes it clear he is also awake. Despite the safety of their position, it seems nobody is sleeping well tonight.

Fjord may as well try, though. He’s going to be groggy enough in the morning as it is and he wants a clear head for the confrontation with Beau’s family. Well, a metaphorical one at least.

He rolls over and closes his eyes, trying to will his mind away from his burning throat and the compulsive deserve to keep swallowing against it. He tries to reach for the place Caduceus has shown him in meditation; a lulled state where his body of least possible concern. It’s hard without his breathing as a reliable guide but he is beginning to manage it when he feels Caduceus tuck into the space behind him. A seven-foot tall firbolg makes a luxurious big spoon. It makes Fjord huff a laugh, which makes him cough.

Caduceus cuddles against him, bringing blessed warmth along with comfort. Long arms reach around to smooth his hair and linger on his forehead, rubbing right at the root of Fjord’s headache without even having to ask. It feels really good.

In the darkness of the dome he hears the heavier breathing that means Beauregard has fallen asleep. Jester turns over and makes an undeniably cute sound. Beneath Caduceus’ loving touch he feels the fatigue wash over him, pulling him down into sleep.

From the very cusp of consciousness, he senses Caleb rise and tiptoe to sit at the doorway beside Yasha, but feels no tug of concern. Let the two light sleepers keep each other company. He has everything he needs right here.

Fjord falls asleep to the sound of a gentle rain beginning to fall. He doesn’t dream of angry Gods. He doesn’t dream of anything at all.

#salamanderskin's fic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #teahaw

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imagine-darksiders · 4 years

Note

Would make a short of Strife rescuing a tiny human? Please ?

Short?

Hi guys, so I was writing this reply when it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve been neglecting you and I owe you, at the very least, a 6000+ word, Strife centric Christmas present. So although it’s isn’t a Christmassy piece per se, it all I have at the moment.

Thank you so much for being patient with me. XXXX

—

The photograph stands on a tiny, pink dresser, its edges cut back just enough so that it fits inside a silver frame, out of which peer three humans, their grinning faces never changing as they keep a quiet vigil of the bedroom and its otherworldly visitor, who – in turn – finds his sharp gaze frequently returning to the little, paper snapshot.

A pair of eyes, golden and glowing in the lightless bedroom, screw themselves shut tightly for a moment as their owner heaves a sigh and tries not think about what had happened to the trio of humans. He especially refuses to dwell on the youngest; the little boy in overalls and wellington boots who rides happily on his father’s shoulders in the photo, but who also so, so closely resembles the tiny, emaciated corpse twisted up in a wardrobe nearby.

These are the moments during supply runs that Strife hates the most – where he stumbles across the sad, broken remains of humans, all whilst he rummages through their homes and helps himself to what was once theirs with his only consolation being the humans back at the maker tree, who would survive just a little longer thanks to his pilfering.

If he thought too hard about it, he would be troubled, and the horseman could not afford that. Best to put it from his mind and move on, as he always has. As experience has taught him.

Peeling his eyes open again, Strife turns his back on the photograph and continues stuffing a dishevelled, cuddly pony into one of the leather pouches that hangs from his side.

’Just the essentials,’ he reminds himself before every supply run. ’Food, water and ammunition being top priority.’

But then, Ulthane had brought that kid to the tree and she’d cried all night, asking where her caretakers were and complaining how she couldn’t possibly sleep without a ‘Mister Bear’ and…

The horseman strokes a finger over the toy’s stringy mane before he withdraws his hand and fastens the pack up again, safely sealing it inside.

’In this instance’, he reasons, ’a soft toy is an essential.’

Besides, he’s already gathered plenty of food for today at least, and if he doesn’t get back soon, Ulthane and the other humans will start to worry where he is.

“Where Jones is,” he corrects himself aloud with a bitter frown.

He’s beyond the point of believing they’d care about Strife the horseman in the same manner they care about his human disguise.

Casting one last, solemn glance at the corner wardrobe, Strife once more finds himself fighting to put the humans’ fate from his mind.

It was so much easier when he thought – as many other species still do – that humanity was little more than a savage society with no ambition beyond killing and consuming to survive. Then, he actually met the little species and found everything he thought he knew about them to be a lie. His eyes had been opened, and he’d been left sadder, but wiser.

Humans had been treated like dirt for so many centuries.

And he hadn’t really cared.

Deciding that he’s spent more than enough time among ghosts, Strife steps back over the bedroom’s threshold.

Moving towards a set of rickety stairs, he reaches out to place a hand on the banister when he suddenly freezes in his tracks, his keen senses honing in on a sound coming from somewhere further down the landing.

A scuffle, then a snort followed by the scrabble of claws on a hard surface.

For several moments, the horseman remains at a standstill as he listens with rapt attention to the pants and growls he’d pin to a Goreclaw, if he had to take a wild guess.

The damn thing sounds as though it’s stuck. That, or it’s looking for something. Either way, it will be sufficiently distracted and chances are likely it doesn’t even know a horseman is in the vicinity.

Mercy’s grip sticks invitingly up from within its holster and Strife runs a thumb over the smooth surface, thinking.

He could just leave. It is only one demon after all.

But then…

The horseman’s mind drifts back to the little body in the wardrobe and his jaw immediately sets.

No way in Hell is he about to let that thing get at it. Dead or not, a kid doesn’t deserve to be reduced to marrow by a hell-dog. Strife could spare him that, at the very least.

Shaking his head and wondering when he’d become so sentimental, he draws his pistol and steps back onto the landing. Following the sounds of guttural snarls, he stalks through the crumbling apartment until he comes upon a broken doorway, torn off its hinges at some point by a hand greater than a human’s. Strife halts just shy of the entrance and presses his back up against the wall before inching his head around the corner, golden eyes narrowed dangerously as he scans the room beyond.

Far be it from him to err on the side of caution but he is curious to know what the demon is up to. His earlier assumption had been spot on. It’s a Goreclaw alright, currently in the midst of trying to shove its long talons underneath a chest-of-drawers, teeth snapping and drool flying from its snout.

“What the Hell are you doing?” he wonders quietly, observing while it retracts its foreleg and presses its nose up to the slim gap beneath the furniture.

He’s only ever seen the dogs get this excited when they’re on the trail of prey.

For a split second, the horseman’s blood runs cold at the thought of a human being trapped under there, though he soon shakes that notion off. No matter how tiny, there isn’t a human alive that could stuff themselves underneath there. Not with barely two inches of space between floor and wood.

Through the window, he’s distantly aware that the sun is no longer shining through a gap in the curtains, having sunk well below a building on the opposite side of the street, heralding the swift approach of night.

Aware that he’s burning daylight, and desperate to put a bullet in something, Strife obnoxiously clears his throat, rounds the corner and aims a cocksure grin at the startled demon when it whirls about to face him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says cheerfully, “Just wanted to stop by and tell you, there’s something on your face.”

A roar of outrage shatters the relative peace as the demon crouches, ready to pounce. It barely manages to plant its hind legs however, before a bullet tears out of Mercy’s chamber and buries itself directly in the Goreclaw’s skull.

“Ope, never mind, I got it,” Strife gloats, a smirk lifting his lips. The demon crumples to the ground, gurgling and twitching for a moment until it eventually lays still, dead on the floral print carpet. “Huh…I was hoping that’d be a little more satisfying.”

With his grim duty taken care of, the horseman turns on his heel to leave. However something nags at the back of his mind and he stops mid-stride, a frown pulling at his brows.

Just what had that demon been so desperate to get at?

Beneath his helm, Strife chews pensively on his lip, turning back to face the unassuming chest of drawers. After a moment’s deliberation, he gives in to curiosity, a newfound trait he wholly blames on the humans he’s been sharing a tree with for the past several weeks. Every one of them has a penchant for sticking their noses into strange situations, and it seems their behaviour has rubbed off on the horseman somewhat.

An obnoxious huff escapes Strife as he grabs each side of the dresser and picks it up effortlessly, as if it weighed no more than a feather and moves it aside to peer down at the dustless rectangle that had been left in its wake. It isn’t long before his sharp gaze lands on something out of the ordinary, a patch of colour in the otherwise murky grey.

“What the?…” Dumping the chest of drawers down to his right, the horseman squats to get a better look at what appears at first glance to be just another child’s toy.

“All that fuss for a doll?” he wonders aloud, reaching slowly down with a finger to prod at it.

Just then, before he can utter anything further, he almost jumps out of his skin as the ‘doll’ springs to life.

Rather, it suddenly leaps to its feet and darts sideways, gunning straight along the wall’s skirting with two, little legs pumping along like a steam engine.

“Hey! Woah there!” Caught off guard, Strife doesn’t think before he shoots out a hand towards the fleeing creature.

It can’t quite skid to a halt in time to keep from colliding with the horseman’s gauntleted palm that abruptly slams to the ground in front of it, and with a soft ‘plink,’ the human-shaped thing collides with his hand and falls back onto its rump so jarringly, Strife can’t suppress a wince. “Oooh, sorry about that,” he says, wasting no time in pinching his thumb and forefinger against the collar of a thin, brown shirt and plucking it up off the floor. “Now, what do we have here?”

Dangling his prize in front of his silver helm, he squints, head tipping to one side so he can get a good look at what he’s caught.

He very nearly drops it again when he realises what he’s peering at.

It’s a human. A boy, to be precise, and a fairly young one at that, clothed in nothing more than a ratty shirt and a pair of equally dishevelled shorts that hang low on his waist, too baggy to fit on his near skeletal form. They’ve even been tied in place by a strip of green twine.

Hanging limply from the horseman’s grasp, the little human tries to work his shirt loose, twisting this way and that but impeded by violent trembles that wrack his body. Realising that thrashing is doing him no good, he opts to reach up with miniature fists and attempt to tear the shirt free, tiny grunts leaving even tinier lips.

“You’re a human!” Strife blurts out, eyes flashing interestedly.

At the sound of his booming voice, the boy flinches and cries out, abandoning his prospects of escape in favour of clamping both arms over his head and curling in on himself, a meagre method of protection against his titanic captor.

Standing back up to his full height, the horseman continues to study his handful whilst planting his free hand on a cocked hip. “Well damn me, I didn’t think human kids could get this small,” he murmurs. Suddenly, his ears perk up at the sound of a diminutive squeak that emanates from the boy currently hanging from his fingers. ”What was that, kid?”

Shivering, his arms still shielding his head, the tiny boy swallows and raises his voice loud enough to be heard. “I-I ain’t a human!” he claims shrilly. Then, after a small pause, he adds, “And I ain’t no kid neither!”

“Not a human, huh? Well, you sure look like one.” Strife chuffs and raises a claw-tipped finger, prodding the boy in his stomach and eliciting a squawk of indignation. “Sure sound like one too…Kind of on the skinny side though, aren’t you?”

His words cause the boy to turn rigid and his arms peel back slightly to give Strife a view of ebony hair and wide, brown eyes. “What…what’s that s'posed to mean!?” he whimpers, “You’re not gonna…you’re not gonna eat me, are you!?”

“Mmm, haven’t decided yet,” the horseman playfully responds, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much meat on you…Then again, I am pretty hungry.”

Behind his mask, he grins, though the expression promptly blinks out of existence when he notices a wetness has gathered on the boy’s cheeks.

“Uh oh.” That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d been sure human kids loved jokes! Hell, Ulthane had playfully threatened to eat some of the younglings back at the tree and they’d all thought it was a great game, even laughed their heads off when he made a slow swipe at them with one of his meaty paws.

“Oh, hey, no – I – Ah, damnit.” Like a flipped switch, Strife’s tone loses its teasing lilt and slips to something gentler. “Hey, ease off the waterworks, okay, pint-size? I was kidding.” Borderline desperate, the horseman lowers his catch into a sturdy palm and lets go of his shirt, even smoothing down the back of it with the pad of a careful finger for good measure although as he does, he becomes aware of just how prominently the boy’s spine protrudes. Human anatomy varies, sure, but that doesn’t feel right.

Jerking away from the encroaching finger, the ‘not’ human swipes furiously at his eyes, smearing tears across reddened cheeks. In spite of the horseman’s reassurance, he doesn’t appear convinced, eyeing the palm beneath him with about as much trust as he’d give a hungry snake, half expecting it to spring to life and squeeze the soul out of him. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen much of the world, even before monsters fell out of the sky, but he knows enough to tell that this metal-clad behemoth is most assuredly not human.

Human eyes don’t glow like liquid gold.

In the meantime, Strife gives himself a mental kick for making the child cry.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “You… got a name, kid?”

“What do you care?” the boy sniffs, all pretence of bravery made redundant by his trembling, “You’re just gonna drop me or – or squash me or something.”

Drawing his head back, the horseman frowns. “C'mon, you’re like – what? - three inches tall? Be kind of a dick move for me to hurt someone smaller than my thumb.”

Cautious surprise flickers across the youngster’s face and he swipes the back of a wrist under his nose, chin lifting to shoot a suspicious squint at his captor. “But…but ain’t you one of them demons?”

Strife bristles despite his best efforts. “Do I look like a demon to you?”

Ducking his head, the boy gulps but still balls his hands into fists and squeezes out, “Well, I dunno… You big'uns all look alike from down here.” He risks a mistrustful glare at Strife’s luminous eyes. “Like monsters.”

Apparently the Horseman has been spending too much time around humans because that sent an unpleasant pang bolting through his chest.

“Yeah, well…Speaking from experience, not everyone who’s bigger than you is a monster, kid,” he murmurs gently.

The boy blinks, caught off guard by the sober tone of voice he hadn’t expected to hear from this gargantuan, metal man. All his life, he’d had drummed into his head the mantra that if a big one caught him, they’d more than likely kill him. And those that didn’t would shove him in a jar or underneath a microscope - that last one had happened to his great, great grandfather. Or so he has been lead to believe.

And yet so far, there’s no jar, no microscope, and although he knows it’s far too early to be letting his guard down, the longer he goes without becoming a sticky mess under the heel of a boot, the more his nerves relax the strangle-hold they have on his heart.

Outside, the city grows steadily darker and with the absence of sunlight, a chill seeps its way through the broken window.

Drawing up his knees and hugging them to his chest, the boy falls victim to an involuntary shudder.

“Cold?”

The suddenness of the giant’s voice reverberating overhead causes him to jump and snatch his gaze up from where it had wandered down to his shoeless feet. On impulse, he blurts out a stubborn, “No,” and clenches his jaw shut again to stop it from quaking.

Strife raises an eyebrow and though his skepticism is hidden under a helm, it manages to saturate his voice. “Uh huh. I can see you shivering, kid.” Slowly, his fingers creep a few centimetres closer to the boy.

“I told you, I’m not a kid,” his handful mutters, “I’m nearly eleven.”

A snort of laughter bursts out of Strife before he can catch it, earning himself an icy glare. “Now, I’m no expert,” he chuckles, bouncing his hand slightly, much to his passenger’s horror, “But I’d’ve said eleven was well in the range of what a ‘kid’ oughtta be.”

“Kids can’t take care of themselves,” the boy explains, agitated, “I can.”

Strife draws his head back in mock surprise. “Oh hoh! Can you now? S'that why I found you seconds away from becoming a demon’s snack?”

Huffing, the boy averts his gaze from the dazzling yellow eyes overhead and mumbles, “I’d have been fine.”

“Whatever you say, half-pint.” The corners of Strife’s lips tilt up as he inspects the boy’s grumpy pout. “You know, you’re pretty feisty for such a little guy. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to go picking fights with demons a hundred times your size?”

Despite his far larger stature, the horseman can pinpoint the exact moment he’d said the wrong thing. The word 'parents’ has barely slipped off his tongue before the boy’s eyes suddenly clamp shut and his back goes rigid against Strife’s fingers. Understanding dawns at once and the horseman’s eyes lose some of that preternatural glow as he exhales softly through his nose. “Oh….Your folks’re not in the picture anymore, huh?”

Face now pressed into his knees, the boy shakes his head.

“Was it a demon?”

This time, Strife receives a slow nod, confirming his suspicions.

Blowing out a puff of hot air, he scratches at his neck and offers, “Damn. I’m…. sorry, kid.”

What else could he possibly say?

“…Hamish.”

Strife blinks, lifting the youngling closer to his eyes and peering down at him. “What’d you say?” he murmurs, giving the boy a gentle nudge with his thumb in the hopes of coaxing the words out again.

Luckily, he’s rewarded when his passenger finally looks up at him with a pair of drooping, brown eyes, their edges tinged red. “My name,” he tries, louder this time, “It’s not kid. It’s Hamish.”

The metal mask does little to conceal its wearer’s pleased grin.

“Hamish, huh?” He decides not to make a fuss about the tears rolling down the kid’s cheeks. “S'good to meet you. Name’s Strife.”

Confusion sweeps across Hamish’s features and he carefully extracts himself from his knees, scrubbing away the fresh teardrops. “Strife?” He hesitates for a moment to scrunch up his nose even further, and the horseman can’t help but notice that when he does, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Yarin after the humans tried explaining the concept of a computer to him. Strife’s grin widens of its own accord at the fond memory whilst its wearer waits patiently for Hamish to finish scrutinising him.

Eventually, the boy appears to come to some sort of conclusion as he huffs and rubs tiredly at one of his eyes, though Strife suspects it has more to do with not wanting to meet the horseman’s gaze when he says matter-of-factly, “That’s a weird name.”

Glad that his little acquaintance has at least stopped crying, Strife feigns offence. “It’s a Nephilim name,” he explains, “and - for the record - how do you know I don’t think Hamish is a weird name?”

The boy gulps, apparently mistaking the giant’s playful banter for real displeasure, after all, he had just insulted an unstoppable behemoth’s name. Eager to move the conversation along, he stammers out, “U-Uh, what’s a…a nephilim?”

The horseman, making note of Hamish’s renewed trembling, softens his tone. “A Nephilim is…It’s, uh…” Something stops him mid-sentence. Is he really about to tell this kid about the Nephilim? A brutal race of bloodthirsty, world-conquering titans? Of which Strife himself was a member? The horseman clamps his mouth shut. What if explaining who the Nephilim were prompts Hamish to start asking questions? Creator forbid the boy discover that the man holding him in his palm was one of four responsible for the total eradication of their own species.

With a hard blink, Strife focuses back on Hamish and notices the boy’s eyes are nervously darting all over his mask. The suffocating spell of silence had lasted longer than the horseman intended. Thinking quickly, he stumbles over an answer that he hopes will satisfy the boy. “It’s…Well, s'just what I am.”

Perhaps it’s only because Hamish has spent his entire life keeping his existence a secret, but the giant’s vague response doesn’t bother him half as much as it ought to. He gets it. The man probably doesn’t want anyone knowing about his existence. Hamish finds the feeling is mutual.

So, instead of calling Strife out on his blatant avoidance, the boy simply offers him a nod and says, “I knew you weren’t human.”

“Ha, only when I need to be,” the horseman chimes secretively, and before Hamish can ponder what he means by that, he’s unexpectedly bounced up into the air, letting out a startled yelp before he lands in the centre of the giant palm again.

“Anyway,” Strife begins, shooting a cursory glance out the window and wincing upon finding it utterly obscured by the ink of night, “There’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other once I get you to safety.”

Hamish’s fingers twitch against the tough gauntlet, a trickling cold slipping into his stomach. “Wait, what?”

“Well, today’s your lucky day, kid!” Strife puffs out his chest and jabs it with a thumb, proudly declaring, “I am gonna take you someplace safe.” Pausing for a moment to let that sink in, he watches the boy’s eyes grow wide, feeling a sense of accomplishment at seeing what he imagines can only be excitement, so he carries on, “It’s warm, away from demons, there’s lots of humans and enough food to last you a lifetime.” He stresses his point by poking Hamish’s belly with a careful fingertip. “By the looks of things, you could use a good meal. So, what do you say? How’s that sound?”

The boy remains silent for several seconds as he processes what he’s being told.

Then, to the horseman’s shock, rather than elation or relief, he’s met with a face full of horror and before he can ask what’s wrong, the boy leaps unsteadily to his feet and bellows, “NO!” at the top of his lungs.

Taken aback, Strife snaps his other hand up to close Hamish in a loose fist when it looks as though he’s about to jump off the horseman’s palm. “Hey! Easy there! What’s the matter?”

Hamish begins pounding ardently on the fingers holding him hostage, kicking his legs to no avail. This hulking stranger wants to take him away from his family home – the place he’s lived and loved and known his whole life - and dump him with a bunch of humans? Not a chance. “Let me go!” he cries, terrified at the prospect of being uprooted, “I’m not going with you!”

Baffled, the horseman tips his head to one side and frowns at the ferocity behind each blow on his metal gauntlet. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” He reaches up and catches one of the boy’s arms, holding it gingerly between two fingers. “Why don’t you want to come with me?”

“Because! This is – It’s my home!” Hamish all but sobs, pushing furiously at Strife’s metal thumb.

“Kid, this is gonna be your tomb if you stay here much longer,” the horseman tries to reason, “I mean, look at you, if a demon doesn’t get you, something else will. You’re skin and bone.”

“I’d rather take my chances out here than be surrounded by humans!” Hamish gives a final heave before collapsing over the enormous thumb, with one arm still held above his head, caught in a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Strife almost laughs aloud at the thought of the humans at the tree hurting anyone. Three of them had actually cried after they discovered a dead bird outside the entrance. But even still, he has to put the boy’s mind at ease. At last relinquishing his hold on the skeletal arm, he sighs, “Listen, kid. Nobody’ll hurt you, okay? They’re good people. Besides – no offence – but I think they’ve got more important things to focus on than antagonising you.”

Unfortunately, Hamish either isn’t listening, or he just doesn’t care.

Glancing up at the giant, fresh tears streaming in a never-ending torrent down his face, he puts on the bravest voice he can muster and yells, “I’m staying here!”

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not! You can’t make me!”

Golden eyes flash brightly at the challenge. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Strife smirks, and without warning, begins to lower Hamish towards one of the pouches on his belt.

As soon as he spots where he’s headed, the boy’s struggling becomes increasingly wild. “No, no, no!”

“Sorry, kid,” the horseman murmurs, steeling his heart against the frightened wailing, “M'not leaving you here.” Using his free hand, Strife fumbles with the pouch’s leather strap and is just about to get it open when Hamish suddenly cries out, “Wait, wait! Just – I’ll go with you, okay? Just stop!”

The horseman pauses, considering the boy for a moment before lifting him back up to his helm. “What’s up? You claustrophobic or something?”

Little fingers dig imploringly into the gaps of Strife’s gauntlet as Hamish shakes his head. “No, I – I just…If you have to take me, then….at least let me get my things first.”

“Your things?” he echoes, squinting down at the kid and noting, with some semblance of relief, that he’s no longer putting up a fight. “Where are they?”

Shrinking underneath the giant’s dazzling stare, Hamish swallows noisily but manages to raise a shaking finger and points it over his shoulder. “In the walls.”

Puzzled, Strife glances to where he’s indicating. “You….lived in the walls?” He sees Hamish nod from the corner of his eye.

“There’s an, um…like a little crack in the skirting board, over there.”

Once again, the horseman follows a tiny finger as it points down to the bottom of the wall, where there is indeed a hole, just large enough to grant entry to a mouse, or perhaps someone else who stands just a few inches off the ground.

For several seconds, Strife deliberates the situation, his gaze flicking between the dark window, the hole and Hamish until eventually, he blows out a huff and shakes his head, turning back towards the doorway and lowering the boy to his hip once again. “Sorry, kid, but whatever it is, it can’t be that -”

“There’s something in there that belonged to mum and dad!”

Strife’s steps falter and he squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh.

Sensing his captor’s hesitation, Hamish prods, “Please? I don’t want to leave without it! It’s all I have left of my family…”

Family. The word plucks insistently at Strife’s heartstrings and he briefly laments the younger, colder version of himself that wouldn’t have flinched if he’d heard it. For some time, the horseman wrestles with himself, teeth grinding together until at last, he lets out a groan and stomps over to the hole in the wall. “Alright, fine.” Pausing to lift the boy up to his mask again, he levels a stern glare at him and adds, “But you gotta be in and out of there in one minute, okay?”

Hamish’s face brightens and he squirms restlessly as Strife lowers himself onto one knee and places his hand on the ground.. “O-okay, mister!”

Barely even waiting for the appendage to stop moving, Hamish all but dives off as soon as the fingers uncurl themselves, landing on the ground and haring for the wall, but before he can get too far, he finds himself jerked to a halt when the waistband of his trousers is pinched between two, enormous fingertips. Craning his head back, he stares anxiously at the horseman, flinching when a gruff voice booms, “I mean it, kid. In and out.”

“I-I got it!” Hamish replies hurriedly, desperate to put some distance between himself and the metal giant.

After giving him one last, calculating look, Strife finally relents, letting the boy go and leaning back to watch him scurry into the wall as fast as his little legs can carry him. Snorting softly, the horseman eases back onto his haunches, content for the time being to wait for his discovery to reemerge. “And here I thought I’d seen everything,” he muses.

——-

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Strife, a similar thought is occurring to Hamish as he races through the intricate maze of tunnels his ancestors had dug out of the house’s stone foundations. Spiderwebs threaten to catch the boy’s flimsy shirt and hold him back, but a lifetime of memorising every twisting, dust-choked tunnel meant that Hamish could navigate his way through each obstacle without even having to slow down. In almost no time, he’s scaled up the wall’s interior and burst through the tiny, wooden door that leads to his family home.

Slightly winded, Hamish takes a moment to collect himself, peering about at the candlelit kitchen and trying to decide where best to hide because he has no intention of going back to the clutches of that giant. To do so would be in complete violation of everything his family had ever taught him, and if he could do nothing else, at least Hamish could carry their lessons with him. Perhaps his mother would even be proud of him for tricking the giant into letting him go free, had she still been alive. Pressing his lips together, Hamish slumps heavily against the doorframe and exhales roughly through his nose, determined not to cry again.

All of a sudden, his whole world shudders as a thunderous boom hits the wall beside him, threatening to knock him off his feet. Crying out, Hamish drops instinctively to his knees whilst two more booms follow the first, one after the other, rocking the entire foundations of his home and raining dust down into his already grubby hair. Fear of being crushed by falling debris compels him to move, so he crawls across the still shivering room, every now and again having to doge pots and pans that are flung from their hooks on the ceiling until he gets close enough to the kitchen table to throw himself underneath it.

Then, as soon as they’d begun, the booms stop and everything grows silent, save for the clinking of a cup that rolls across the ground before coming to a stop just beside Hamish’s hiding spot.

“Hey, kid! You get the stuff yet?” Strife’s muffled voice calls from outside.

To his irritation, the horseman sounds entirely oblivious to the abject terror he’d just put him through – is still putting him through. Unaware that he’s balled his hands into fists, Hamish aims a harsh scowl at the wall, behind which the voice had come from and, in as brave a tone as he can summon, yells, “GO AWAY!”

There’s a pregnant pause, a heavy stillness that hangs in the air like a lead weight over his head and Hamish is just beginning to wonder if Strife had actually obliged him, when the horseman’s voice cuts through the brick again, considerably softer this time. “You know I can’t do that, little man.”

The boy scoffs aloud. “Yes, you can,” he retorts, “You just have to turn around and leave.”

“Hamish.” The pointed use of his name isn’t lost on the boy. “I am trying to look after you. Now would you come back out here so I can actually do that?”

The voice sounds closer now, as though Strife is speaking directly next to the wall outside his hiding spot and Hamish realises too late what a stupid move it had been to shout and give away his position. So, with lips pursed and arms crossed, he offers the horseman a stubborn silence. A full minute passes before he hears a low sigh from the other side of the wall.

He expects Strife to continue banging on the wall until the sound becomes so annoying, it drives him out. He expects the horseman to at least pretend to leave, then snatch him up again the second he steps from the mouse hole. What Hamish doesn’t expect, however, is for the wall of his kitchen to suddenly explode inwards.

A cacophony of sound beats on his eardrums and in a desperate bid to avoid being deafened, Hamish throws his arms over his head and presses himself into the floor, his scream swallowed by chunks of plaster and brick showering down all around him. When the dust settles, he still doesn’t move, not even when silence is all he can hear aside from the blood pounding through his eardrum.

Then, movement. Not from Hamish, but from the gaping hole that has appeared in the brick and cement, exposing his kitchen – his home – to the world outside. Choking on the fear that weighs down on him as surely as the ceiling above, Hamish raises his head and peeks out between trembling arms to see a colossal fist slowly dislodge itself from the tight confines of his kitchen wall, fragments of which tumble down around it, plinking off metallic plating and leaving a coat of dust in their wake. With a final tug, the fist breaks free, retreating enough so that what little light is left can spill through the gap and illuminate the hovel. As Hamish watches, too rigid with anxiety to move his limbs, a familiar pair of luminous, yellow eyes loom out of the dust and peer inside, swiftly finding him cowered underneath the kitchen table. Their gazes lock and they stare at one another, the boy’s eyes widening as a direct contrast to Strife’s, which narrow at the sight of him.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being lied to,” the horseman grumbles before adding curtly, “I thought we had a deal?”

Pinned helplessly beneath that glare, Hamish attempts to shuffle backwards further under the table, though his limbs have locked up and refuse to cooperate with his intentions. However, his mouth hasn’t suffered the same petrification. “I-I don’t make deals with giants!” The words tumble out before he can catch them. “I’m not going, so just!- Just leave me alone!” As he speaks, he continues to shimmy away until he emerges from beneath the table, all the while his every move is followed intently by an unwavering, yellow gaze.

An entrance to one of the many tunnels his family had built into the walls is just to Hamish’s left – shrouded in darkness and invitingly safe. If he could just reach it, he’d be able to disappear into the brickwork.

Taking a fairly solid guess on the boy’s next course of action, Strife growls out a warning steeped in thinly veiled concern. “Come on, kid. Don’t make me do this.”

With the deliberate slowness of one who doesn’t wish to provoke a predator, Hamish gets to his feet and in utter silence, they stare each other down, one defiant and the other dejected.

Then, the horseman eyes squeeze shut just for the briefest of instances, as if in pain.

It’s all the opening Hamish needs.

Like a rabbit with a fox at his heels, he bolts sideways in a mad dash for the tunnel entrance, his mind fixated on one thing only: Escape.

Although he’d always been the youngest family member, he could boast an impressive swiftness, outpacing even his mother and father as they raced through the apartment in playful capers.

His father had once said that Hamish’s speed would keep him safe.

His father was wrong.

The enclosed doorframe comes within reach and another round of adrenaline fizzes across his brain at the the tantalising prospect of freedom, so close it puts a hopeful smile on his face. He would not be made to leave his home. Fingers grasp the wooden edge of the door and Hamish readies to propel himself those last, precious few feet through the gap. He’s so focused on where he’s going, he doesn’t notice the rush air that whizzes past him, nor that it’s soon followed by a large, ominous shape sliding past his body in the darkness and curling into his path. However, he does notice when he slams against a solid wall of metal and leather - a wall that begins to gently scoop him backwards, away from the door, away from the safety of the apartment’s labyrinthian tunnels and straight towards a home-wrecking giant.

“No!” he shrieks like a banshee as strong fingers fasten around his midsection, ensuring him that this time, there will be no escape. The horseman will not be duped again. All too soon, Hamish finds himself dangling back in front of that avian mask and shying away from the palpable disappointment radiating from beneath it.

“Okay,” the low, unimpressed voice chimes, “I can tell there’re gonna be some trust issues between us.” Before continuing, Strife holds an admonishing finger up right in front of the boy’s face. “But you need to understand that you can’t just run off like that, kid! What if you’d gotten hurt?”

Reflecting on what he’d said, the horseman has to suppress a shudder. ’Shit, I’m starting to sound like Death.’

“What do you care if I get hurt!?” the boy challenges, “You’re the one who’s kidnapping me!”

Bridling at the accusation, Strife sets his jaw and snaps, “You got duskwings in your belfry, kid? I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need you protecting me! I was doing just fine on my own!” Hamish bellows, balling his hands into fists and throwing them wildly in the direction of Strife’s mask, more as a show of defiance than anything else. He’s borderline hysterical now, barely sucking down enough air to keep himself conscious during the throes of panic.

Meanwhile, the horseman watches his display, taking in the boy’s skinny frame, the shorts that barely cling to his narrow hips, the dark bags hanging under his eyes and the grime covering his skin and clothes. “No,” he says with an air of finality, “You weren’t.”

There’s no further opportunity for Hamish to retort because he’s promptly swept in a downwards arch towards the horseman’s pouches once again. No amount of pleading, thrashing or crying garners a reaction out of the stone-faced giant who has turned a deaf ear to his tiny captive. Only when he lifts the flap of his frontmost pocket and lowers Hamish inside does he speak, simply to say, “This is for your own good.”

The boy’s backside touches something soft and fuzzy and he balks, inadvertently grasping at the fingers that unfurl from around him, as though they would pull him out of the very prison they’d slipped him into. The last thing he sees before his world is plunged into darkness is a now familiar pair of amber eyes gleaming down at him and pulling a whimper off his lips.

—

Strife expels a hot breath as he fastens the clasp on his pouch and finally allows himself an indulgent second to relax. Then, giving the bottom of the pouch a few, gentle pats, he turns once more towards the pitch black hallway, smirking when a minuscule foot kicks against his palm.

#darksiders #darksiders 3 #Strife #giant/tiny #g/t #angst #demon #borrower au #micro/macro #fluff #uiahi

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dracoqueen22 · 4 years

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[CR] Temperance Promises

Sequel to Patience Rewards Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Around Episode 88 Series: And Other Virtues Characters: Caduceus Clay/Fjord Rating: T Description: Fjord has never ached for privacy quite as much as he does now that he knows he can kiss Caduceus, and Caduceus will welcome it. Finding privacy becomes something of a challenge. They're a tight-knit group often thrust into very close quarters, and what secrets they have are ones they started with, rather than ones they created along the course of the journey. Fjord has never ached for privacy quite as much as he does now that he knows he can kiss Caduceus, and Caduceus will welcome it. He wants to kiss Caduceus all the time. He wants to taste those slow smiles, and nuzzle Caduceus' face, and take his hand and squeeze his fingers, and sleep tucked in Caduceus' arms. Their relationship isn't exactly a secret. Everyone saw their first kiss, whether they acknowledge it or not. And Fjord can practically see Nott vibrating with the urge to tease him. He doesn't know why she holds back, but he's grateful for it. This is a fragile, precious thing.

And then Caduceus casts Spirit Guardians or throws some healing at him, and Fjord’s gone, head over heels like it’s the first time Caduceus smiled at him. Fjord flushes all over, heat pooling in his groin, flushing his face. All he wants to do is kiss Caduceus, throw subtlety out the window, maybe even find the nearest bed, or flat surface or... He really wants to find some privacy. It's not until they've barely escaped with their lives from Rexxentrum, when they've got the truce on their shoulders, and they've finally rescued Yasha, that they have anything resembling a moment of peace. A few days to get their heads right, to gather their supplies, to figure out what they’re going to do next. It’s enough time to breathe, to relax, to yes, visit a spa. And all the while, Fjord wants to get Caduceus alone. Stolen kisses in an alley, taking his fingers and squeezing them under the table, bumping his arm as they walk, it’s not enough. Especially since the rest of the Mighty Nein have decided that they want Caduceus petting time more than usual. Assholes. Every single one of them. Fjord's at the end of his rope. So maybe. maybe He's a little aggressive when it comes time to divvy up the rooms. Maybe he's a little louder than he needs to be but damn it. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend in peace. Is that too much to ask? "We typically share a room, Fjord," Caduceus says with a soft laugh, once they're in the cramped space which barely qualifies as a room. "I don't think anyone planned on changing that." There's only one bed. Granted, all of the rooms only have one bed, but Fjord notices it this time. Really notices it. Caduceus usually volunteers to sleep on the floor. He doesn't seem to mind it. There's only one bed. It's a small bed. Caduceus' feet would probably hang off the end. They'd be very close. Fjord's face heats. There's only one bed, and it's a small bed, and if they shared it, they'd be very close. "Fjord?" He shakes himself out of his stupor and drops his bag at the end of the bed. "It's been a long week," Fjord says as he sits down on the bed, which gives a flumph and sinks in the center a little. They'd roll toward each other. They'd have no choice but to sleep curled in close, sharing breaths and space. "Yes, it has," Caduceus agrees and sits down beside him, catching his balance with a hand to Fjord's shoulder as the bed tries to swallow him. "Oh. This is interesting." Fjord grabs his elbow to help steady him. "Every inn's an adventure," he says. "Better than sleeping outside though." "Mmm. Depends on the outside." Caduceus offers one of those crooked grins which make Fjord's heart flutter. "It'll do. If you'd like to share it." Fjord is frequently grateful for how blunt Caduceus can be. The tips of his ears burn hot, and he's half-afraid of what color his face is. "Truth is, what I want to do right now is kiss you," he says. Caduceus' smile broadens. "Why don't you?" "Because I might not stop," Fjord admits. He gently squeezes Caduceus' elbow, tempted to reel him in, within reach for a kiss. "Is that such a bad thing?" Caduceus leans in closer, his eyes at half-mast, and how he can look both innocent and devilish is a mystery. By Melora. Fjord swallows, his mouth abruptly dry. "We're supposed to, uh, meet the others for dinner in a bit." "We've got some time, don't we?" Caduceus' touches the side of his face, and Fjord leans into his palm, his heart thudding in his ears. "Sure," Fjord says, and he's leaning in now, drawn by the curve of Caduceus' lips. Caduceus breathes a laugh, a finger tracing Fjord's ear, before he touches the curve of Fjord's jaw, tilting his face up. Fjord's dizzy with anticipation, until their lips touch, briefly at first, and then again, with more pressure. Caduceus' sharp inhale echoes in his ears, and Fjord presses his advantage, parting his lips, deepening the kiss. It won't be the one. It can't be the one. It's a long, extended kiss, the touch of Caduceus' tongue to his, coy at first but then gaining confidence. The slide of Caduceus' fingers through his hair, blunt nails gentle on his scalp. Shivers dance over Fjord’s skin, goosebumps in their wake. Fjord sighs against Caduceus' mouth, cupping Caduceus while careful of his talons, but keeping him close for kiss after kiss after kiss. Making up for every missed opportunity, every time he caught Caduceus' gaze and couldn't do anything but share a half-smile. Warmth spills through his body, centered on his groin. Fjord makes a low sound into the kiss, and Caduceus' mouth curves, affectionate not mocking. "You're purring again," Caduceus murmurs as he presses a kiss to the corner of Fjord's mouth. His hand settles on Fjord's upper thigh with a light squeeze. Heat flushes Fjord's cheeks. "Sorry." "Why're you apologizing? It's nothing to be sorry for." Caduceus tucks his face into the hollow of Fjord's throat, his lips soft and warm on the underside of Fjord’s jaw, over stubble trying desperately to be something more. "It's adorable." Fjord groans and scrapes his fingers over Caduceus' scalp. "Is it?" "Yes." Caduceus' mouth finds its way back to Fjord's lips. "I think of it as a compliment." Fjord thinks it's embarrassing, but he supposes he can't fault Caduceus' logic either. So he kisses Caduceus again, to hide the blush in his cheeks, focusing instead on the taste of Caduceus, the wet swipe of his tongue, the way their bodies draw closer and closer together, and Fjord's pants grow uncomfortably tight. His heartbeat is a loud song in his ears, and his hands start to shake, so he grips Caduceus a little harder to hide their tremble. He’s a hot flush from head to toe, and all they’ve done is kiss. Which is, of course, the perfect time for someone to bang on their door. "Fjord! Caduceus!" Jester sings as she raps a nonsense rhythm with her fists. "It's time for dinner! Stop making out and c'mon." Fjord sighs. "Sometimes, I hate her." Caduceus laughs and presses their foreheads together. "No, you don't," he says, and brushes a kiss on Fjord's forehead before he stands. "We're coming," he says, a bit louder. "Hurry up or Beau will eat all the good stuff, you know how she is!" Jester hollers before she scampers away, her boots noisy on the old wood slats. "No, I don't," Fjord agrees as he stands. He drags a hand over his hair to try and restore the disordered strands to their usual artful sweep. "Let's go to dinner." "We can finish this later," Caduceus promises with a peck to Fjord's cheek before he makes for the door, leaving Fjord standing there, a bit stunned. Finish? Later? What are they going to finish? Thank Melora he has a cloak. Fjord discreetly tucks it around him and follows Caduceus downstairs, toward the noise and bustle of the table the Mighty Nein have claimed in the corner. Food has already been brought out to them, along with mugs of ale, and two milks -- one for Jester and one for Caduceus. "There you are!" Jester’s eyes light up when she sees them, and her lips curl with devious intent. "I told Nott you were coming, but she didn't believe me." "Oh, I believed they were coming, just not down here," Nott says, and she and Beau high-five each other, while Fjord's face burns, and Caduceus smiles, either blissfully unaware of the double entendre, or choosing to ignore it. Fjord sits next to Beau and snatches up the ale she nudges his direction. He might take a larger swig than is necessary, but Jester’s grinning at him like a devil, waggling her eyebrows even, and that's more attention than he wants right now. His lips still tingle, and he swears the brush of Caduceus' kiss lingers on his throat. "Don't mind them, Mr. Clay," Caleb says as he pushes a plate Caduceus' direction, where he's kindly collected only potatoes and carrots and bread. "Oh, I'm not the one who minds," Caduceus says as his ears flick, and he casts a sidelong, playful look at Fjord. "Why wouldn't they come down here?" Yasha’s forehead crinkles in confusion. "Are you not feeling well, Fjord?" The worst part is that Fjord can't tell if she's being sincere in her confusion, or pretending for the sake of making Jester laugh. Yasha's too damn hard to read. "Can we just eat?" Fjord shovels a huge bite into his mouth, immediately crunching into gristle, but not caring because it gives him something else to focus on that's not their playful gazes. Beneath the table, Caduceus rests a hand on his knee and gives it a gentle pat. "Dinner and sleep is something we could all use," he says. "The beds here are pretty small," Nott says in between vicious, tearing bites of a haunch of meat. "I mean, I don't have a problem sleeping on the floor, but there's no harm in sharing, is there?" Fjord sighs. "No there isn't," Jester says, maybe a bit too loud, and she nudges Beau with her elbow, making weird and elaborate expressions with her face. "Beau and I share all the time, don't we, Beau?" Beau blinks. "Uh, yeah. Sure do." "We all sleep in a magic bubble that's ten feet in diameter. We all share space. I don't see why it is a big deal now," Caleb says, and Fjord could kiss him, save that his lips are reserved for Caduceus, so he won't. "Yeah, but that's not private, Caleb," Nott points out, rolling her eyes. "Remember? You can't make a little, you know, side bubble." She makes some gesture with her hand which Fjord is sure to be obscene, though he's never seen it before. Beau groans. "Can we please not bring that up again?" "Are you ashamed?" Caleb asks. "No." Beau's shoulders square, indignant. "You're like my brother is all, and it's weird to talk about my sex life with my brother. So stop." "I'm not even the one who brought it up," Caleb argues while daintily sopping some bread in his stew and giving it a nibble. "I mean just shut up about it in general." Beau’s arm waves wildly, a piece of her chicken breaking off and smacking Yasha in the cheek. Yasha picks it off and pops it into her mouth. "We don't need to talk about who I sleep with, all right?" Beau continues. "Unless you want me to start commenting on all of you. Huh, Nott? Should we talk about a certain minotaur?" "Hey! I never actually did anything!" "You wanted to," Beau points out. "Can you blame me?" Nott asks, and gets that starry look in her eyes again, the same one she held when she first caught sight of Sunbreaker Ulumon. Beau wrinkles her nose and drops back onto the bench. "Yeah. Can and will. Gross." "You have something against minotaurs?" Yasha asks. "I have something against dicks, as in, no thank you," Beau says. Caduceus says, "Well, now. You don't really know what kind of equipment he had." "She might be talking about his personality. He was kind of a jerk," Jester says as she lifts her mug and tries to catch the waitress’ attention. “More milk, please!” "Why are we even having this conversation?" Fjord groans, and shoves a huge piece of bread into his mouth, washing it down with an ale. Beau’s sex life, Nott’s sex life, minotaur dick... he’s officially reached his breaking point. Fjord stands, hoping to make a hasty escape. "I'm going to clean up. I'm tired." "Was your best friend a minotaur or something?" Beau asks. Yasha shakes her head, swiping away the smear of grease with the pad of her thumb. "No, I was just wondering if you didn't like them or something. Like, I don't know, maybe one attacked your family?" "Did your people suffer minotaur attacks?" Caleb asks. "Well... no," Yasha says. Caduceus is probably the only one who notices Fjord escaping, and all he does is smile and nod before he continues to pick at his food. "That's very speciest of you," Nott says with a haughty sniff as Fjord plunges into the crowd and their inane argument gets lost to the clamor and din. He finds the washroom upstairs, thankfully unoccupied, and wipes away the day's dirt and grime. Before they leave, Fjord hopes to visit the spa at least one more time. It had been an unexpectedly nice indulgence. Jester's right. His tusks are coming in nicely. He can't remember the last time he picked at them. He scratches at his jaw, where stubble tries in vain to form a full beard. It's a different face he sees in the mirror, and he doesn't mean just his growing tusks and his growing beard and his hair. He carries himself differently, too. He's actually starting to like who he sees. Fjord smiles and finishes up, exiting the washroom, only to stop in surprise when he finds Jester loitering in the hallway. She grins when she sees him. "There you are.” "Was I missing?" he asks. Jester laughs and loops her arm into his, subtly tugging him down the hall, toward their cluster of rooms. "You did kind of disappear. I was worried." She looks up at him, briefly gnawing on her bottom lip. "You kind of looked uncomfortable. I'm sorry if we teased you too much." "I wasn't upset about it," Fjord assures her, because that much is true. He's not ashamed, and he knows their teasing isn't meant to be cruel. "I'm just... this is very new to me. I'm afraid of messing it up. I don't know what I'm doing." "I don't think anyone does," Jester says as she pats his arm consolingly. "Don't worry. We can tell how much Caduceus likes you. I don't think you can mess it up." "You'd be surprised," Fjord sighs. He's messed up quite a few things in the past. He doesn't have a history of making the best decisions. This thing with Caduceus, this thing they haven't given a name, is fragile and important, and he doesn't want to shatter it. Though it is weird he's talking to Jester about it. Weird and awkward and well. She’s still his friend. "I have faith in you," Jester says. "I know you do. Um. Listen Jess," Fjord says, and he tumbles over his words, struggling to find the right ones when it matters. "You think maybe we should talk?" Jester blinks up at him. “About what?” “Me,” Fjord says. “And Caduceus.” Jester laughs. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She stops in front of Fjord’s door with a little bounce. “Unless, I mean, is everything okay? Do you need to talk, Fjord?” She looks up at him, sincere and earnest, without a glimpse of hurt in her eyes, and Fjord’s resolve crumbles. “No… nevermind.” Fjord rubs the back of his neck. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t bring it up. People change after all. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” Jester beams and gives him a playful pinch on the meat of his upper arm. “Well, you are, too.” She unlinks her arm from his and pushes him toward the door. “Caduceus is waiting for you, so you better go.” Fjord grins. “I’m going, I’m going.” He puts his hand on the knob but pauses, turning back toward her with a smile. “Thanks, Jess. I mean it.” She winks and spins on a heel, her skirt flaring around her. Fjord watches her go, a bit of an ache in his heart. He hopes he hasn’t broken hers in return. Fjord slips into his room, closing the door quietly behind him, and when he turns, Caduceus is making a pallet on the floor, carefully layering blankets as he usually does. “Um.” Fjord feels like he’s been knocked off his axis. “The floor?” Caduceus’ ears flick, laying flat. “You seemed uncomfortable earlier. I thought this might be… easier? I don’t want to push.” Fjord chews on the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m just not sure what I’m doing.” Caduceus smiles as he stands, the tension sloughing from his shoulders. “Then that’s something we have in common.” He comes closer, takes Fjord’s hand and rubs his thumb over the back of it. “Do you want to sleep with me, Fjord?” He answers by kissing Caduceus, curling his hand around the back of Caduceus’ neck to draw him down, making it easier to press their lips together. It’s a gentle kiss, no matter how much Fjord wants to deepen it. There’s a tightness in his belly, gooseflesh raising over his skin, and heat in his groin. “Is that a yes?” Caduceus hums against his lips, hands resting on Fjord’s waist, neither pushing nor pulling, but waiting. Patient. He’s so damn patient. Fjord feels like a volcano ready to burst, or a rope about to snap, and Caduceus is as calm as a reed bending in the wind. “It’s a yes,” Fjord says, his voice rough. “We should share the bed.” “And nothing more?” Caduceus asks. Fjord huffs a laugh as his fingers drag through the finer hairs at the base of Caduceus’ neck, watching his eyes droop to half-mast. “What is more?” “I don’t really know,” Caduceus murmurs, head dipping as though trying to encourage Fjord to continue. He melts like this when Fjord pets him, too, and it’s impossibly adorable. Fjord carefully scratches his talons along those hairs and then further up, to the base of Caduceus’ scalp and back again. Caduceus hums, just like a purr Fjord thinks with a swallowed laugh, and sags against him. “I’m inexperienced, not unaware,” Caduceus rumbles as his hands slide up and down Fjord’s sides, though he can barely feel it through the thickness of the Mariner’s armor. “I don’t want to overstep.” “And I don’t want to push,” Fjord says even as Caduceus sags closer and closer to him, eyes fluttering, fatigue cloaking him from head to toe. “But maybe getting out of our armor and climbing into bed wouldn’t be a far step.” Caduceus breathes a laugh, but it’s a few more seconds of indulgence before he draws back, hands fumbling at the clasps to his more elaborate breastplate. “I suppose you’re right.” “Need help?” “Please.” It’s nothing Fjord hasn’t done before. Though it takes on a new meaning now as he undoes buckles and clasps, setting armor aside, peeling Caduceus out of his layers before he starts on his own. Caduceus offers to help but Fjord waves him off, and Caduceus doesn’t argue, flopping onto the bed instead and watching Fjord through slitted eyes. “You look like Frumpkin,” Fjord says, his face hot, and his ears aflame, though all he loses is his armor and boots and equipment. He’s far from undressed. “Judgmental?” Caduceus asks. Fjord chuckles. “No. But good point.” He casts off the last of his armor to the pile and surveys the tumble of long limbs that is his… boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Fellow worshiper of Melora? He was right. Caduceus’ feet do hang off the edge. “Come here,” Caduceus rumbles, opening his arms, and it’s an invitation Fjord can’t resist. He slides onto the bed, immediately rolling into Caduceus thanks to the curve of the lumpy mattress, and comes face to face with the other man. “Oh,” Fjord says. “Hi.” Caduceus chuckles and presses his forehead to Fjord’s. “Is this all right?” It’s warm and intimate. The familiar scent of tea and dirt and mushrooms and growing things rises up from Caduceus, and Fjord wants to nose his way into Caduceus’ throat and linger there, drinking him in. “Yeah,” he says, breathing easy for the first time in an hour. “It’s good.” They can worry about the rest later. This, right now, is perfect as it is. **** a/n: And yep, looks like this is a series now. I don’t know where it’s going, save that it’s going to be a fun ride.

Feedback is absolutely welcome and appreciated! I’d love to know what you all think! :)

#fjorclay #teahaw #CADUCEUS CLAY #fjord #caduceus clay/fjord #critical role fanfic #critical role campaign 2 fic #draco writes critical role

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eponymous-rose · 5 years

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Talks Machina Episode #100 Highlights!

That’s right: 100 EPISODES. That’s a lot of great questions, greater answers, questionable pronunciations of usernames, even more questionable uses of overlays, and a++++ excellent dogs.

The entire cast is answering questions this week!

Max runs an (adorable) intro in the above puppet theater, and each cast member gets a title. Laura is The Heart, Sam is The “Funny Guy”, Travis is The Brawn, Liam is The Actor, Matt is The Brains, Marisha is The Face, Taliesin is The Pyramid, Brian is The Convict, and Ashley is The Favorite.

The cast’s entrance is majestic. There are balloons, sashes, tiaras, and champagne. Henry has a tiara too!

The Search for Grog will air this Friday, February 22 at 7 PM Pacific on twitch.tv/criticalrole. If you miss the stream, it’ll be available Saturday morning on CR’s YouTube channel!

Talks Machina and CR will air on CR’s official channels starting today! Starting next episode, TM will be available on CR’s YouTube channel on Thursday at 7 Pacific, and also in podcast form!

Stats: in 100 episodes of TM, there’s been 81 episodes of Brian’s glorious beard. There have been 9 Skype/FaceTime call-ins! There were 244 guest misnomers before that well ran dry. 93 episodes of pre-show hijinks (thanks to Max James!). 95 episodes of Arsequeef. 826 days of being on the internet!

Brian: "The concept of creating a talk show about a D&D campaign has always been absurd to me, so we wanted to embrace that terribleness.”

There’s now a Steve Cam (quietly reading, meal prepping, and ignoring the show), and a Zach Cam (staring at a monitor that’s all just Liam’s chest hair and the Fjord bust), and a Max Cam (dancing in a stripper cop outfit), Lockey Cam (practicing with a sword in front of a mirror and then charging at Daniel for filming it - Brian: “Hopefully Daniel’s non-union.”), Ed Cam (drinking scotch and counting down the days until football returns, and also lint rolling his new goatee), Chris Cam (rapping in the VO booth), Brittany Cam (dancing with a unicorn blanket, huffing compressed air - Brian: “You can’t show that on Twitch!”).

Matt is asked how his DMing style has evolved with campaign 2. “Well... I’ve been forced to embrace a little more of the tragedy in the characters’ backstories.” The internal and external conflict has been really interesting for him to watch and react to. “I’ve learned to be very proud of my players for mucking up my perception of where things are going to go.”

Coming to Xhorhas, Nott’s thrilled to no longer have to worry about the mask. Sam’s excited about the City of Beasts “to see what kind of fucked-up individuals we’re going to find and seeing how Nott will react to that.”

Yasha definitely sympathizes with Nott trying to save her spouse, but “there’s a lot going on with her going back to Xhorhas. It’s definitely triggering for her, but she understands the need to want to go back. I wish I could go to Xhorhas. We’ll see what happens.” Travis: “I’m pretty sure once we go to a place we can never go back.”

Favorite item on the Talks shelves? Taliesin mentions a magnetic Percy mini, Sam likes the tiny Sams (”It looks like my bedroom!”), Ashley and Brian are partial to the Sully painting, Laura loves the Pike painting, Marisha loves all the stuff the cast bought on a hungover voyage to the flea market when they were first building the set, Matt loves a very cool dice tower. Brian likes the Vecna with Marisha’s face. Matt: “I don’t know if I like that one.”

Laura doesn’t like the party using the derogatory term for the Krynn, because she wants people to be happy even if she doesn’t know them. Sam: “I haven’t been the best for that, but if Jester wants me to... I guess I’ll change.”

There are new wipe transitions featuring the Matt pillow and the Fjord bust. It’s glorious.

Gif of the week: Sam calling Travis “studly” for catching the candy. Laura: “...I like that I’ve been cut out of it completely.”

Arsequeef gets the Lifetime Achievement Award for Gif of the Week. He wins Max’s 2006 Honda Accord.

On Caleb taking off his bandages because there’s nothing to hide anymore: “Was that terrifying for him, or a relief?” Liam: “Yes!” He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it feels good. He’s got f...r...iends?” Marisha: “I love that sitcom. (weakly) F...r...iends?”

Caduceus being a source of comfort, insight, and advice was built into the character. Taliesin looked at low INT high WIS, and Matt immediately started laughing and told Taliesin he’d do well with that. Taliesin: “There’s plenty of things that will eventually flap that, but we haven’t hit them yet.”

As a player, Travis doesn’t like to weigh things carefully all the time, so a lot of Fjord’s leardership has been a bit about pressing fast-forward. Marisha: “So what you’re saying is that your Grog’s poking through.” Matt points out that if both characters have a trait, it’s probably just Travis.

Liam: “I’ve got a little Travis poking me from behind.” Marisha, musing: “So many conflicting beards...”

Beau’s prayer to Ioun mostly came from a “couldn’t hurt” perspective. “I’ll try it out. Give it a spin.” When Travis asks, Marisha clarifies that it was Ioun specifically because of the Cobalt Soul. Travis: “Oh yeah, I totally knew the relationship there. I just wanted to make sure the audience did.”

Bugbear friend or bugbear foe? Sam: “He speaks goblin, he seems cool, his name’s Gluzo. He has a hard-to-pin-down accent, but it’s amazing.” Taliesin: “You have a hard-to-pin-down accent, too. It’s something you have in common.” Taliesin gets asked if his insight check revealed that the bugbear is secretly pretending to be someone else. “Yes, he’s just pretending to be a bugbear. He’s actually Matt Mercer.” Laura: “I like him. ‘Cause he’s cute and he let me give him a tattoo.”

Sam: “Nott trusts her friends to be as strong as they can be, and at this point, I don’t know if she’s as concerned with one of them dying as just getting to her husband in time before he dies. If we lose one along the way, Nott will probably cry a little, but will move on.” What if it were Fjord? “Fjord’s expjendable.”

Matt: “I’ve reached a point where Travis controls Yasha in combat, but I don’t consider any of his roleplay canon.” Ashley: “I trust Travis. Barbarian respect.” Laura: “Don’t give him that.” Ashley: “Travis himself is like a Deck of Many things. This is risky, but it’s kind of fun!”

Sam: “That dunamancy shit is lit.” Liam: “And it’s tied up in everything that Caleb wants, so if he can get on the entropy shit and the gravity shit, you know he’s going to go back in time, motherfucker.” Sam is so excited to have these mystery spells because they’re so new, and they’re inherently something they don’t know how to counter or prepare for. Travis: “It’s almost like every time we play D&D.”

Fanart of the Week: a spectacular group shot.

Everyone freaks out over how good Travis looks with glasses. He takes them off and puts them back on sexily for a while. I was too slow grabbing a screencap, but don’t worry, the gifs will be everywhere.

Laura: “Jester hasn’t experienced a lot of emotions. She hasn’t experienced a lot of anything, really. She’s definitely dealt with sadness in her life, but I don’t think it’s been so in-your-face constantly, just the trauma of it all.” Liam: “Yeah, she’s with some very terrible people.” Laura: “While it is traumatic, it’s also been a great adventure, and she’s enjoying being out and doing things. Even if it might hurt her, it’s so much better than reading about it, drawing it, just imagining how it would be.”

Caleb’s still feeling out the shift in his relationship with Nott, but there’s no question that everything they’ve gone through can’t be forgotten or overlooked. “He sees her as an absolute ally no matter what, and will do anything for her. In a weird way, he feels like they’re even more alike than he thought they were, and he loves her and wants her to succeed in what she’s doing, and hopes that the things that he wants don’t fuck it up entirely.” Sam: “Are you talking about Liam and Sam right now?”

Caduceus’ thoughts on Xhorhas? “A new environment, certainly, and a new aspect of nature that he’s unfamiliar with. This is just more terrain to him at this point. He’s also very unaware of the political realities. He’s vaguely aware there is war. He’s still not sure why we can’t just go up and ask for directions from everyone.”

Brian: “That tiara is the most blessed image.”

Travis on the Captain Tusktooth tattoo: “Brand recognition is huge in Xhorhas.” Taliesin: “Viral marketing.” Laura confirms that it’s not likely to change apart from some small differences from tattoo to tattoo. “Each person gets a special google.”

Laura on fans actually getting this tattoo: “I am ALL ABOUT IT.”

Marisha: “Guys! How about instead of M9 tattoos...” Sam: “We let Laura tattoo us? I would legitimately be down with that!” Ashley: “I’m kind of into it.” Liam: “This is what splits us apart.” Laura: “Everybody gets a dick.” Travis: “How would we explain that to our kid? ‘What’s that?’ ‘Your mom did that.’”

Beau is holding back a bit since her impulsiveness started having negative repercussions. “I think it’s about accountability. She’s started to learn--- especially when she first joined M9, she didn’t have friends, really. I think you had to learn, oh, my actions do affect others around me. I think that’s something you can learn and you can grow in, but yeah, she is trying to not be a total fuckwad anymore. Trying. But old habits...”

Favorite TM moments? Travis: “Do you remember that episode where Brian wasn’t the host?” Brian remembers Travis throwing the card that almost took him out. Ashley fondly remembers PullOutKing. Laura remembers Taliesin saying the phrase “I love teenage assholes” (referring to Percy acting immature), and Taliesin is super glad someone brought that up again just when the tweets were finally starting to die down.

Ashley talks about how proud she is about how far Brian’s come, and how great he’s doing at this. Everyone has an uncharacteristically sincere moment of applause for Brian. Liam: “Everyone take 30 seconds to drop the bit that we think you’re a total fucking weirdo. You’re so good at this, and you’re such a good friend, and we’re so glad you’re part of this family.”

Marisha pitches the idea of trying to sell TM syndicated on LifeTime now that they have 100 episodes.

Brian remembers having food poisoning that led to him running off-screen, throwing up in the middle of the show, and then having to come back. Marisha remembers Travis texting everyone that night with “lol, did Brian just yarf on TV?”

Matt talks about how proud he is of Brian for going from zero tabletop experience to co-running his own game.

Talks Machina After Dog ft. Sleepy Boi Henry

“This is the best dog-petting show ever.”

Liam was skeptical about TM initially, because he was worried it would take away from what would be shared in-game. Marisha: “I was stoked for it, not gonna lie. I was very misunderstood and people hated my character, so I was kind of stoked to just get to explain it.” Travis was sold once they picked the name.

Marisha: “It also set the precedent for really dumb, punny names.” Brian points out that, as a channel, they now can’t stick with serious names as their final choice.

Laura’s sister has been watching the show, and she texted Laura after the show to ask what the whisper was, so Laura’s going to tell her and no one else. Liam: “You’re gonna tell your real sibling?”

There’s a horrified discussion about giraffe fighting. Some segues happened in there.

What’s something their characters have done that’s made them proud? Liam: Caleb using the Wall of Fire. Marisha: the Plank King execution episode as a whole (everyone agrees). Travis: “I was proud of hooking up with an NPC when my wife wasn’t here to threaten me with death.” (he immediately turns to Taliesin: “Help.” Taliesin: “No god can help you now.”) Taliesin: “I sunk a boat.” Laura: Proud of not getting caught with Nott in the Platinum Dragon sanctuary. Sam: Taking the blow for Jester so she could escape. Liam: “Molly showing his dick covered in eggs.”

Matt: “I’m proud of you guys not entirely descending into evil madness. I’m proud of the character arcs of being broken, terrible people, and finding out that it’s okay to be broken; you’re not necessarily terrible.” Liam: “The entire cast went, ‘He’s talking about everyone but me’.” Matt thought it was going to be very hard to keep the group together, but the party turned it into character growth moments. “I’m proud of you.” Laura: “Thanks, Dad.”

Yasha loved the arm wrestling. “Oh man, it’s so fun to be the tank.”

Laura: “I’m really proud of us for saving Kiri!”

Everyone has Liam’s chest hair:

Wishes for the next 100 episodes? More Ashley.

Brian: “I hate this coffee table more than anything in the whole, entire world.”

What’s something that should never change about the show? How ridiculous it is, the barrel, Dani. Also always have a dog. They fundamentally do the show for themselves, still, and that’s made it a really good environment for them to open up about the show and their characters.

Liam: “There’s a lot of beauty to what we do, but it’s also inherently silly. And to deny that is silly.”

Matt likes that it’s unpolished and imperfect. “Things are going to go wrong regardless, and you can either get angry and frustrated about the lack of control, or you can embrace it.” Sam: “None of this is real anyway.”

Brian points out that this is not an excuse to stop paying him.

And that’s a wrap! This is the last After Dark for a while, but there are some big ideas in the works for the coming weeks!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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keikigoodbetter · 4 years

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Quarantine Q&A

Tagged by @darkthestars thank you!

ARE YOU STAYING HOME FROM WORK AND SCHOOL?

I was actually right between jobs when lockdown was called, and the job I had lined up next is no longer gonna pan out. So yeah I'm home from both work and school indefinitely.

IF YOU’RE STAYING HOME, WHO’S THERE WITH YOU?

My parents and my little brother and my dog.

ARE YOU A HOMEBODY?

No. I do spend a lot of time at home and I usually enjoy that, but being restricted from being out with friends or on adventures is making me lose my mind.

AN EVENT THAT YOU WERE LOOKING FORWARD TO THAT GOT CANCELED?

I WAS GONNA TRAVEL TO AUSTRALIA SOLO AND SEE MCR PLAY ON MY GODFUCKING BIRTHDAY, AND THEN GO SEE MY FRIEND AND SOME VOLCANOES AND WHALES IN HAWAII. Now I am both heartbroke and walletbroke because the airlines haven't refunded my tix in any form 🙃

WHAT MOVIES HAVE YOU WATCHED RECENTLY?

Uhhh not a movie but the Tennant/Tate version of Much Ado About Nothing (twice in a row) (again). 2003 live action Peter Pan. Haven't watched many by my own choice lately, just whatever my family wants to turn on in the evenings; we watched Tolkien the other day.

WHAT SHOWS ARE YOU WATCHING?

Tiny Heist from Demension 20. What We Do in the Shadows. I finally watched Sense8 and it was life-changing. Tryna catch up on the many months I fell behind on Critical Role. The Narrative Telephone game that the CR cast has been doing, btw, makes me laugh until I cry every single episode haha.

WHAT MUSIC ARE YOU LISTENING TO?

I constantly have music playing anyways, the only change is that now that I'm never home alone or driving places, I don't get to crank it as loud lol. Been listening to a lot of mashups; The Amazing Devil; Autumn by Trophy Eyes, and Always Summer by Yellowcard.

WHAT ARE YOU READING?

Lots, comparatively to before, at least! Just finished The Alchemist by Paulo Cohelo. In the midst of The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski. Rereading Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare (I know, I know, believe me :/ But I do adore this series). Ripped through The Problem With Forever by Jennifer L. Armentrout in like 2 days. Also fic. So much fic haha

WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR SELF-CARE?

All kinds of things, now that I'm out of the original month-long dead zone. Tending all our flowers and our big veggie garden, and the birdfeeders and stuff. Taking the dog on walks or meeting friends up in the mountains to go hiking. Making a sincere effort to stop picking at my face. Started practicing/studying Spanish again - I've been trying to do a little bit every day for about a month and a half now, and haven't missed a day in 3 weeks! Purged and cleaned my closet. Dyed my hair. Trying to do something creative each day, so writing or drawing or caligraphy practice. Sewed myself a hammock.

Tagging, should they be interested, @moreawesomethantheaveragepossum @hontohaunter @vampire-elf13 @i-am-confused-by-life

#Tagging game #Quarantine #About me #My life

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joonsgalaxy · 5 years

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true care (m) |04

cr. ↰

→ pairing: bodyguard!Jungkook x female reader

→ genre: fake dating au, fluff/romance, angst, future smut

• summary: your (endearingly) shy bodyguard—hired by your father—would do anything for you. even though you roll your eyes at his persistence and pretend there’s no need for him to follow you to every and any place you go, there might be many more hazards in your life than you let on. and you might end up needing him in more ways than you—or your father—would ever think.

word count: 7,6k

! warnings: mentions of toxic past relationship throughout the series; alcohol consumption

series masterlist

↠ chapter 4: pass me the glue so i don’t bleed

a/n: sorry if it sucks. hopefully it doesn’t lmao. oh btw i suck at replying to comments but pls be aware that i appreciate every single one and i read them like a hundred times each <3

The rest of the weekend seemed to last an eternity.

You stayed at home so you wouldn't have to see Jeongguk. You were studying without rest in an effort to preoccupy yourself with subjects of upcoming exams so you wouldn't hear Jeongguk's mellifluous voice humming in the silence of your room and wouldn't imagine your hand fitting perfectly in his for the umpteenth time. You thought that maybe not seeing him and not talking to him for a couple of days would help the rational side of you to take over; it would take the job of proving you that your feelings for him were a mere temporary illusion. There can't be any real feelings, because you only just started getting to know him. The boy was still quite a mystery to you. How could you possibly have already developed feelings for him? And this rational part of you sort of helped. In a way, all those things were complete true, after all. However, these thoughts weren’t the only ones begging for your attention. Jeongguk this, Jeongguk that, you kept on hearing in your mind. Sometimes in a whisper, oftentimes in a scream, overwhelming anything else that was happening within you. You felt like you had no control over it. It just kept on reoccurring, the images of him dancing before your eyes along with it. It was fucking torture. And there hadn’t been even two months since you broke up with another guy. How dare you think about Jeongguk in such a way so soon?

And there also was that thing about lies and lipstick stains tormenting your mind.

Come to think of it, it was your dad who was responsible for all your vexation. He was the one to blame for hiring Jeongguk as your bodyguard; he was the one to be careless and forget to wipe the lipstick smear from his cheek; he was the one having the audacity to tell you it was just a business dinner. He had ruined your weekend and potentially some weeks to come.

•

On Monday morning, at 10 past 8, you stepped out the house, carrying your bag filled with textbooks and your laptop, intending to leave the thoughts that were bugging you during the weekend behind.

As Mr. Ri was polishing a particular spot on the hood of the car by rubbing at it meticulously, Jeongguk and him were having a conversation. It was nice seeing them get along.

Only when you were mere feet away from the car did they notice you approaching.

‘Good morning,’ both of them greeted you in unison.

‘Good morning.’ You smiled back at them before locking eyes with the driver. ‘Did you pick Jeongguk up this morning?’

‘I sure did.’ answered Mr. Ri brightly.

‘Again, thank you,’ Jeongguk said, his shy yet grateful eyes meeting yours.

Smile tugging the corners of your lips, you lifted one shoulder in a flippant shrug. ‘I didn’t do a thing.’ It sort of was true. You only had to text the driver letting him know you wanted him to pick Jeongguk up from his home, for he didn’t have his own car to commute. And, looking back at Thursday night, they already had each other’s numbers, so they were able to easily communicate and arrange that.

As usual, after the driver pulled open the door for you, you occupied the backseat, and Jeongguk sat in the front.

•

The first class was called law of evidence.

Strolling down the hallway toward the auditorium with Jeongguk by your side, you spotted someone that made your heart accelerate and beat unpleasantly fast. There were two of Kwangsun's good friends standing alongside one of the walls. They were looking directly at you, faces inscrutable. Right in the middle of them, much to your exasperation, was the guy that you talked to Mina about recently. The one that had given you the message from Kwangsun himself; the very same guy that showed up at the party later the same day. Even if before there was still a sliver of possibility that Kwangsun didn't actually know the guy and he was some random dude that was randomly asked to give you the paper plane (later dropping by at the party, asking about you just because he was just interested in the drama that had surrounded you and your ex), now you were 100% sure that Kwangsun and him were in fact friends.

All three of them were blatantly staring at you and Jeongguk. What was their deal?

You told yourself you had no other choice but to grip Jeongguk by his hand and lead him into the auditorium. 'C'mon,' you said. 'The class starts in a few minutes.'

You felt Jeongguk tense up a little at the contact and the unexpected invite, but after half a second of consideration he dutifully complied and followed you to the auditorium.

If the mysterious guy was still trying to figure out your relationship status, this would show him that you were dating for sure.

If you had left Jeongguk in the hallway, who knows, maybe they would've come up to him and tried to pry answers from him. And that could've ended up in an utter debacle. Even if you knew that Jeongguk was capable of dealing with everything concerning his work, you didn't want to take any risks; you weren't about to give him such control over the situation, for you wanted to make sure everything went according to your plans.

'Let's go to the back,' you told Jeongguk as you were climbing up the steps toward the highest point of the huge room. You still had his hand in yours; he held it tightly. Only when you moved to take a seat in the very back, you let go of it.

He remained standing, a million questions reflecting in his eyes.

You patted the air just above the seat next to you, smiling welcomingly.

'Uh,' Jeongguk drawled, confusion written all over his face. 'Shouldn't I leave?'

'The class is about to start. Don't you wanna learn about law of evidence?'

He still looked perplexed. Jeongguk was startled by the change in your attitude about him being near you during class. At first you were opposed to the idea of him simply peeking into the rooms to make sure it was safe for you to enter; and now you were encouraging him to sit through the class right beside you. His wariness made complete sense.

He started saying something, 'I mean—

The professor entered the room, drawing everyone's attention toward her, including Jeongguk's.

'Quick!' You whispered. 'It's starting.'

He had no other choice than succumbing to your request and taking that seat next to you.

'Is this because of that guy in the hallway?' Jeongguk whispered as you were pulling your laptop out your bag.

Your eyes widened at that. 'What?' Had he noticed him, too?

‘YG, is it?’ Jeongguk knew the guy's name? 'He gave you the paper plane last week, and was at the party? He's your friend, right? You had to make this whole being a couple thing believable?'

Oh. 'Yeah, that's right.'

'So…' Jeongguk fiddled with his sleeve, glancing at the professor who was starting the lecture. 'Should I just sit here until the class ends?'

'Yeah, why not? Nobody cares, anyway. Aren't you interested in law of evidence?'

'I am,' he whispered enthusiastically.

Fascinated, he sat through the whole lecture, listening attentively.

It was fun seeing Jeongguk so immersed in the subject, so you invited him to some of the other classes that week, too. He had a pass card that allowed him to enter the faculty, so as long as it wasn't a test day or the professor wasn't one of those that loved to question people during lectures Jeongguk could easily go in and out of auditoriums without anyone paying attention to him. The authorities were aware he was your bodyguard, but other students and professors didn't need to know that; as far as they were concerned Jeongguk was just another student among the sea of others.

Sometimes you'd discuss the topics that the classes were about. He would ask questions and you'd try to answer and explain them to him as best you could. He complimented the way you managed to make intricate things sound simple, and he thoroughly enjoyed the examples you'd given him to make your point. The more sparkles in his eyes you noticed the more you were thrilled about telling him about the theories from textbooks and some ideas that you had of your own. The conversations would occur between classes or after them during the slow strolls around campus or sometimes, like on Thursday that week, at your favourite cafe named Symphony.

However, the law or interesting cases through history weren't the only things you two talked about. There was a little unpleasant surprise at the counter, and Jeongguk was curious about it.

'I was told to give you this again,' the cashier said, her hand held out to you, a sky blue paper plane on her palm.

Attempting to smother the irritation surging through your veins, you politely thanked her, even managed a smile. Having bought a cupcake and a cup of coffee, you sauntered to the garbage can and tossed the paper plane into it without even unfolding it and looking to see if there was a message written inside. You weren't interested in what he had to say to you.

When both you and Jeongguk made yourself comfortable onto the chairs behind one of the tables in the cafe, he asked, 'Some sort of secret admirer?'

'Huh?' Your mind was distracted.

'Sending you the paper planes?'

'Oh…' You didn't know what to tell him.

'I'm guessing Yoongi is only the messenger in this? Unless he's hitting on you and Mina at the same time?'

'No,' you answered with a tinge of distaste. 'He's… yeah, he's only a messenger.'

Jeongguk nodded, humming. 'So… do you know who's the admirer?'

'Uh—

'I mean, you don't have to tell my anything, if you don't want to.'

'It's not that. He's no one important.'

He looked at you sceptically over his cup of tea. 'Seems to go out of his way to make an impression, though.'

Yeah, quite a horrible impression. Kwangsun seemed to ruin every good memory you still had with him by doing all this unnecessary stuff. What an idiot.

'Well, I'm not really interested in him.'

'Oh, that's… sad.'

'So why are you smiling?'

His grin only widened; he tried to conceal it by lifting his cup up to his nose. 'It's just… the cupcake is exquisite.'

'You haven't even tasted it yet.'

'Even just the thought of biting into it makes me happy.'

You shook your head, chuckling.

After eating and talking about the day’s lectures you said, 'So… about tomorrow night.'

'Yes?' You had Jeongguk's full attention.

'Have you already talked to Mr. Ri about it? You both should be in front of my house at 7 pm sharp.'

'Yes, he picks me up at 6:40. We'll be there on time.'

'Good.' You nodded once. 'The dress code is black tie.'

'Yes, I'm aware. My suit is ready. What are you so anxious about?'

'Psh, I'm not. I'm used to these kinds of events, you know.'

'So you're worried about me.' His tone had a hint of bitterness.

'No… Yes.' You winced.

He pursed his lips into a thin line, exhaled. 'I memorized every exit, every window and every corner in the hotel. You don't have to worry about it. And I bought a suit. I won't embarrass you, miss ____.'

Your brow furrowed. He hadn't been calling you like that the whole week, since the Friday night when you ordered him to call you by only your first name. At all times. The boy looked offended and defensive, wanting to distance himself by acting like a professional employee. Just an employee and nothing else. That reminded you how much he wished to prove you and your dad that he was a capable bodyguard.

If truth be told, it hurt a little, just the tiniest bit. Without even realizing you started seeing Jeongguk as your friend, someone you could talk to about both school matters and your personal life. The way he addressed you at the café was a cutting reminder that he was certainly not your friend, and probably would never be. Especially when it was so important for him that you saw him as a skilful bodyguard.

'Of course not,' you said. 'I'm not worried about that. I just want everything to go smoothly. There's enough stress as it is.' That was complete truth.

•

You barely ever wore dresses or high heels, and it usualy wouldn't take an hour to get ready, but these kinds of events were an exception (it was the celebration of the bank your dad worked at being established 25 years ago). You had learned to act and dress the way people around you wanted you to. It was for your own good, your dad and grandparents used to tell you. You dressed and talked like the rich, well-mannered, educated girl you were and nobody looked at you twice; you blended in. It was easier that way. You'd go to an event, show everyone how well your father had raised you and, when the time was appropriate for leaving, you'd make your exit.

That Friday evening you wore a designer dress that you and your grandmother decided on buying two weeks prior. You squeezed your feet into a pair of high heels that you also hadn't wore before.

When you stepped out of the house, your driver as well as Jeongguk were already waiting outside for you. They were chatting, facing each other, which had become a usual thing. You had to pause and smile to yourself. Even if Jeongguk was turned to Mr. Ri, that didn't prevent you from observing how good he actually looked in that new black suit of his. A really well fitting suit, you had to admit. One hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other making vague gestures as he spoke, he exuded confidence, and he seemed relaxed.

You started toward the car again, cursing the high heels. (You were good at concealing the discomfort, though. Another lesson from your grandmother coming in handy.)

Jeongguk turned to face you, and, upon seeing your approaching form, he froze in spot. His lips parted ever so slightly and he looked almost dumbstruck. His gaze glided up and down your body as if you were naked or suddenly had turned into a flying car, something completely unexpected. As though just realizing he was being weird, he quickly pulled his hand out of the pocket and fixed his tie (which, by the way, looked expensive and very nice on him), self-consciously smoothing down the jacket after, wide eyes still glued on you. You liked to believe you weren't an arrogant person, but his reaction meant one thing only and was extremely flattering. You wondered if he'd have the courage to compliment you with words.

You didn't know exactly why (either he had forgotten about the order from last week momentarily or perhaps it was a way of complimenting you with actions), but Jeongguk abruptly stepped toward the back of the car and yanked the door open, holding it for you. You raised a surprised brow at him, but moved to get in the car anyway. But not before throwing a glance at Mr. Ri; he had a knowing grin plastered over his face, and he threw a hand in the air as if saying: “I’ll just let have him this one”.

After you climbed into the car, Jeongguk closed the door carefully. You could see his face, and he was blushing hard, probably just realizing at that moment that he was in a daze earlier and wasn't supposed to open the door. You chuckled.

During the trip to the hotel you could see he was nervous. He kept looking around a lot as if checking whether you'd already arrived or not. He was fiddling with the buttons of his jacket and carefully fixing his fringe from time to time.

When you stepped into the hall, he seemed rather tense. You completely understood him. That kind of situation could be overwhelming even for you, who had been to these kinds of events numerous of times. Even if you didn't really care about what all those people thought of you, admittedly, the self-consciousness grew by every passing second of standing there nearby the entrance.

‘Pretend they’re naked,’ you said loud enough for Jeongguk to hear you. ‘It’s a cliché, but it works.’

He gave a short laugh.

How should you introduce him?

You lost that train of thought, when your grandmother rushed toward you in her classic tiny steps. 'My darling! You look fantastic!' She looked you up and down. 'I told you those shoes would go with the dress. This is really good. I think he'll like it very much,' she said, her gaze jumping away as if searching for someone particular in the crowd.

'Who? What are you talking about?'

She completly ignored Jeongguk. He might as well have been a ghost attracted to your energy and yours only.

'I want you to meet someone.' Oh here we go.

'Maybe I don't want to meet him.'

'Oh, you do, don't be silly. You haven't even seen his gorgeous face.'

'And I don't intend to.'

'Quit it,' she muttered. 'He's a wonderful young man, and you'll marry him.'

'Woah, let's not get ahead of ourselves.'

'Let's get ahead. You have to think about your future. And when you meet him, I promise you, you will be the one wanting to propose to him right on the spot. But don't do that, of course,' she added as an afterthought.

'Oh, I don't know. Will I be able to control myself, if he's that great as you're describing.'

She shot you a glare that was supposed to show she wasn't fond of hearing any of your jokes right now. You shrugged as if saying you couldn't help it.

'He's so smart,' she resumed, looking around, gaze sweeping the crowd. 'Right up your league. Oh, I see him. He's alone. Come quick.' She beckoned you with an abrupt gesture, inviting you to follow her.

You breathed a sigh, turning to Jeongguk to offer him an apologetic smile that probably looked more awkward than anything, and then you followed her into the sea of the rich.

'How do you know him anyway?'

'I know everyone here.'

The man was admittedly handsome, suave and, even though there was no way of examining him there, seemed well educated and polite.

'This is Kim Seokjin.'

'Hello there,' he said smoothly, giving you a brilliant smile.

Your grandmother continued the introduction, 'Just a year ago he founded his company, and now it's worth millions! What a bright young man!' Could she at least try being a little more subtle? Gee.

'That's impressive,' you said.

Kim Seokjin, with a fair amount of inhibition, chuckled, momentarily lowering his gaze to the floor.

'____ here is studying law,' your grandmother told him, all proud and excited.

Seokjin looked at you. 'Oh, does she?'

'Anyway, I'm going to say hello to some people. You two feel free to talk more, get to know each other.' You almost expected her to wink at you.

You and Seokjin exchanged a knowing smile as if saying ugh, family.

'Yes, will do,' he said to your grandmother. 'Thank you for introducing us.'

She strode away, giving you the last tiny nod.

What now? These things were always awkward. Was he interested in you? Was he single and into girls, or your grandmother just assumed things as per usual?

'So…' Seokjin drawled while you were subconsciously biting your lip. You remembered you had lipstick on and released the flesh from the grip of your teeth. 'I'm guessing— I mean, I'm usually straightforward type of guy, so just let me ask you this… Did your grandmother introduce us because we’re similar in age and both single?' Well, he definitely wasn't joking about being straightforward. You liked that. But you didn't like him, well, at least not in the way your grandmother wanted you to. Even if he was dazzling and smart and had great taste when it came to fancy suits, you weren't looking for a relationship. Especially not in these events, and not with people that one of your family members introduced you to. You knew, you just knew it would be a hell of a challenge to date someone your grandmother knew, especially a man that she already wanted you to marry. You wouldn't ever be at peace dating him.

You had no idea if Kim Seokjin would be into you, but you had to make sure you wouldn't lead him on. You had to get away somehow from this ridiculous situation.

You glanced behind you while stuttering trying to answer him. You saw Jeongguk not far away from you in the crowd. You locked eyes. He was your solution. You decided on beckoning him over.

'Actually,' you told Kim Seokjin, 'my grandmother doesn't know about this, but…' Jeongguk appeared beside you, and, having mentally prepared to lie, you said, 'This is Jeon Jeongguk. He's my…' Good thing you didn't visibly cringe uttering the next words while gripping affectionately Jeongguk's arm. 'He's my lovely boyfriend.' That should be convincing enough, right? Even when lying to the smartest of guys.

'Oh!' Kim Seokjin didn't seem even the tiniest bit of disappointed.

Jeongguk's eyes held lots questions within them, he looked startled for half a second, but he had to quickly regain his composure, and, when he did regain it, he seemed as gleeful as ever.

'Pleased to meet you,' Jeongguk said to Kim Seokjin in a friendly tone, shaking the guy's hand.

'Um, so as I said my grandparents don't know about this, so I'd appreciate—

'Oh, of course!' Seokjin said. 'I get it. Dealing with family can be… complicated.'

'Yes, exactly. Thank you.'

Your hand was still gently touching Jeongguk's arm, when your gaze slid ever so slightly to the side, behind Kim Seokjin's shoulder. The smile that you were offering him started fading until it was completely wiped from your face. You lost the focus on the conversation you were having, because you saw your dad talking to a woman. Usually it would mean nothing, you wouldn't get distracted by it, but since your mind had been occupied by the speculations of his love life, you couldn't help but watch them intently as they, smiling brightly at each other, conversed about something amusing. By that point you were aware the two men that were standing near you were looking their way too, intrigued.

'Are you looking at my mom?' You heard Kim Seokjin ask.

You looked at him. 'What? No, it's my dad.'

'Ok, but your dad is the CEO and that lady talking to him, laughing… that's my mom.'

'Oh.'

She couldn't be his date from Friday night, could she? Because if she was then your grandmother would certainly not want you to marry her son. Well, unless she had no idea about it.

‘I don’t know how to ask you this, but…’ Seokjin said, glancing back at your father and the lady. Your eyes were focused on them too. Seokjin’s mother pecked your father on the cheek affectionately, but nonchalantly enough for other people to perceive it as something inconspicuous. You were 98% sure the lipstick colour on her lips was the same as you saw on your dad’s cheek on Friday night. ‘Do you think they might be dating?’

The question made your heart skip a beat.

‘Has your dad talked about it at all?’ Seokjin asked.

Not knowing how to answer him you just stared at him and tried to come up with something, but failed. You were definitely not telling him that your father lied to you about it as if you were a child.

You felt a hand gently touching your back in a soothing motion. You couldn’t be certain if Jeongguk was pulling an act because of Seokjin, or if the gesture was genuine.

Noticing the mild bewilderment on your face, Seokjin said, ‘I don’t mean to be rude, I just have my suspicions and my mom won’t talk about it with me. It’s just weird… I’m sorry if I offended you or…’

‘No. I—I too have some suspicions of my own.’

Your dad and Seokjin’s mother parted ways. Your dad was about to go on the stage and receive his award and whatnot.

'I think we could use this,' gesturing for one of the waitresses to slow down. He took two champagne glasses from the tray that the waitress was balancing on her palm and held them out for you and Jeongguk. You took it impulsively; Jeongguk hesitated. 'C'mon,' Seokjin encouraged him with a friendly smile and a tilt of head. He thought Jeongguk was your boyfriend, not a bodyguard on duty, and he didn't know Jeongguk couldn't consume any kind of alcohol that night.

Nevertheless, Jeongguk decided on plucking the delicate glass out from Seokjin grip, probably thinking that refusing would be too impolite of a gesture and could kindle some awkward tension between them.

Satisfied, Seokjin took another glass from the tray for himself. 'To family,' he made a rather sarcastic toast.

'To family,' you echoed him, tone laced with blatantly fake joy.

While Seokjin took a sip of the drink and Jeongguk just stood there without even taking the tiniest of sips you chugged the whole glass in one go. The bubbles felt quite unpleasant in your mouth and throat, but getting a bit tipsy seemed a very attractive thing at that moment. The men looked at you with surprised expressions on their youthful faces.

'What? I'm thirsty.'

They both chuckled, then shrugged.

You sighed, staring at the bottom of the glass. 'Why do you think they'd be hiding it?'

Kim Seokjin thought for a moment, took a swig of the champagne. 'Well, you're hiding something from your grandmother, too.' He glanced between you and Jeongguk, indicating he was talking about your (fake) relationship. 'I'm sure you have a good reason for it. Maybe they do, too.'

You bit your lip. 'Perhaps,' you agreed after a moment of mulling it over.

'Anyway, I think the speeches are starting soon, I should go find my seat.'

'Of course. It was nice meeting you.'

'You, too. Both of you.' He grinned and strolled away, his champagne glass still half full.

'You okay?' Jeongguk asked, concern settling over his face.

'Mhm,' you hummed with as much nonchalance as you could muster.

Another waitress was sauntering past you; you placed the empty glass on the tray she was carrying and snatched a full one. Without a second's thought you chugged that one down, too.

‘Woah,' Jeongguk breathed as you frowned, feeling the bubbles pop against your throat. 'Maybe you should slow down?' Jeongguk suggested.

You arched your brow at him. 'You think so?' You switched hands and grabbed the full glass that Jeongguk was holding. You let the champagne trickle down your throat again. You didn't know exactly what had gotten into you, but all you knew was you had to distract yourself from the thoughts of your dad or your grandmother and her plans of making you marry someone she thought was a good match. The alcohol was mildly starting to numb your brain and throat. Your face impulsively crumpled because of the horrible taste in your mouth. 'Yak, this doesn't taste right.'

'Nothing tastes right, when you consume too much of it.'

'Don't be a smartass,' you hissed.

He could barely control the grin that was threatening to break wide open. What was so funny?

He looked around. 'Shouldn't we go find our seats, too?'

You shrugged. 'I guess so.'

Your table was at the very front amongst a couple of other tables placed closest to the stage. The card with your name was meticulously planted on the white pristine tablecloth. Everything there screamed luxury. Honesty seemed to be a luxurious feature, too, not attainable even to you.

'I think my seat is somewhere in the back,' said Jeongguk, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. 'Have a great night. I'm going to—

'Wait.' You touched his elbow to stop him. He waited as you read the other cards sitting on the table. You recognized a couple of them—your grandparents' names—and paused on a third one that was next to yours. 'Have no idea who that is,' you said. Having made sure nobody was watching you, except Jeongguk, you discreetly tossed the card onto another table.

'Wha—what are you doing?' Jeongguk asked, his tone gruff as if he was reprimanding you.

You gripped his forearm and guided him to the table. 'Shut up and take a seat.'

He complied albeit reluctantly. 'This is not my seat.'

'Who says that? Do you see someone else's name anywhere?'

Jeongguk pursed his lips into a thin line, ruminating on your question and the whole situation. He sighed, defeated. 'I guess not.'

'Here you go.'

A man strolled to the table, read the cards. His brows pinched together in confusion. He walked away, in thought. You giggled; Jeongguk forced a smile.

Of course, you realized you were acting kind of… crazy, but you were not about to sit through all those speeches with some stranger and your grandparents by your sides. Jeongguk worked for you, he got paid to hang out with you when there was no danger. His job was easy, the least he could do to show his gratitude was sit with you and offer his emotional support. God, your head was dizzy. Had you eaten dinner or lunch that day? You couldn't recall. The alcohol was really kicking in. Shit… Did you just really throw someone else's name card onto another table? And you forced Jeongguk to sit in that person's seat? What the hell was wrong with you? You were definitely losing it.

'Oh, Jeon Jeongguk you're here, too,' your grandmother said taking a seat behind the table, her voice sounding (fake) sweet.

Jeongguk offered a bashful smile. 'Yes, I am.'

You probably would have blamed yourself for putting him in such an awkward situation had you not been under the influence of alcohol. Even if it wasn't much of it, it still was affecting you.

Your grandfather nodded deferentially Jeongguk's way, pulling a chair from under the table.

The whole "show" was quite boring, if you were being honest. It was always boring. We're proud of our company blah blah blah. We're so grateful to our partners blah blah blah.

You'd rather lift off your seat, levitate through the room above all tables and fly out one of the windows into the horizon; the champagne was making you feel like you could actually do it, as well as not having the high heels on your feet (a good thing about being seated at a table). Perhaps you could fly to the Moon. Surely, banks didn't exist there, no CEOs stressing themselves over work, no ex boyfriends or dads holding secrets. Nothing would bother you there.

'Everything all right?' You heard Jeongguk's soft voice. He was leaning ever so slightly toward your direction as if attempting to enter the little world you'd created yourself in your mind. He seemed concerned.

Why was he always so concerned? You were— 'Just fine.'

The look on his face remained showing you the high level of his worry; there was also some scepticism flickering in his eyes. His gaze slid downward where your fingers were wrapped around a napkin, tightly, very tightly as if it were your enemy's neck. Up until that exact moment you hadn't even realized you were using so much force. Actually, you weren't even aware you had the napkin in your hand in the first place.

Your grip on it loosened. You let go of the napkin and neatly folded it, leaving it be on the table in peace so Jeongguk wouldn't be questioning you anymore.

You put much effort into trying to listen to whatever the important people on the stage had to say, but your mind was swimming in the ocean that had poison of irritation instead of cold water. Shouldn't the champagne have turned it into an elixir of relaxation?

Your father—the CEO—was finally called to the stage. You applauded lazily. You couldn't focus on anything he was saying. Something about hiding things from his daughter? All you were hearing was: I lie. I lie. I lie. You know what I did last Friday? I lied to my daughter. She's a child. A clueless child. Ha! Don't you just love a good ol' lie? Mmm, lies.

Your leg was restlessly jumping up and down, and once again only because of Jeongguk you'd noticed that it was doing it.

Under the table, you felt some pressure on your knee, and your jittery movement halted. A little confused, you looked down, slightly tilting your head, and saw that Jeongguk was the one pressing a finger onto your knee. Your heart did a two-step.

You glanced at him quizzically, for you definitely weren't expecting him to do such a thing. It was a small gesture, yeah, but Jeongguk didn't seem the type to have the courage to do even such a simple thing. Come to think of it, he was risking people seeing it; he was risking you getting mad at him for it. And in a way, that made you appreciate him even more.

He smiled. Your heart melted like hard wax becoming liquid upon the right level of warmth. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, soothing. 'Everything's just fine, remember?'

You did not succeed in trying to subdue the urge to smile back at him.

Though, the rational side of you was telling you that you should immediately smack his hand away, maybe give him such chiding for acting so outrageously. How dare he touch you like that in the hopes he would calm you down by such a silly gesture.

However, the other part of you (fuelled and motivated by alcohol and the feelings you'd started having for him) ordered you to do something entirely different.

(You should chide yourself, not Jeongguk, for what you did next.)

Turning your face back to the stage, you slipped your hand under the table, making sure it looked as casual and inconspicuous as possible. You weren't about to do anything devilish, of course not, but even the little things mattered in a place like this. Your hand landed gently onto Jeongguk's. You dragged it over your knee; he didn't demur, surprisingly so. That only showed he was getting more and more comfortable around you, even if sometimes he'd hesitate or distance himself just a little.

He clasped your knee as if he'd done it a million times before.

In your peripheral you could see him gulp. Clearly, he wasn't unfazed by your action.

You leaned to the side a little, reducing the distance between you and him, to murmur, 'It'll take more than just a finger to calm my nerves.'

Jeongguk almost choked on air. He cleared his throat, carefully shifting in his seat.

It took a little time for your intoxicated mind to realize the ambiguity of your words. You didn't take them back, though. In any case, it was even more thrilling, so you welcomed the distraction.

Were you insane? You most definitely were.

Both hands back on the table, fingers fiddling with the napkin again, you pretended to listen attentively to the speeches. However, you understood nothing at all. You didn't care. You felt Jeongguk's thumb rub your knee back and forth; it was almost imperceptible, but your blood was getting warmer and warmer.

Your grandparents were mere feet away, and that fact only made you even giddier. Needless to say, neither of your legs were jumping up and down anymore. Your blood pressure, on the other hand, undoubtedly was.

The "show" eventually ended, and you congratulated your dad as a well raised daughter should.

You also saw Kim Seokjin's mother do the same, her lips touching your dad's cheek in a quick peck again. For everyone in the event it probably looked inconspicuous and nothing noteworthy, but at that point you were completely convinced they were dating, which wasn't a bad thing in itself, but you shouldn't be wondering and suspecting such things by yourself in the first place. Your father should've told you the truth.

When the congratulating wave had come back to the sea of seemingly sophisticated conversations and champagne tasting, your dad said, 'I want you to meet someone.' Your pulse grew at that. Would he introduce you to Kim Seokjin’s mother? Would he finally come clean, proving you he saw you as an adult?

Nope. Apparently you were the one still needing to prove him you weren't a child. He did not introduce you to Kim Seokjin's mother. Instead he led you to a spot in the room where Seokjin himself (alone) was standing with a glass of champagne. What did this mean?

A smile flickered on the man's face, when he saw you approach.

'This is Kim—

Your dad didn't get to finish the introduction, you interrupted him. 'Seokjin, yes, we already met.'

'Oh?' Your dad's eyebrows twitched upwards. 'You did?'

'Yup,' Seokjin said, grinning. 'I already met them both ___ and her boyfriend.'

Panic flooded in.

‘Boyfriend?’ Your dad questioned, utterly puzzled. You weren't supposed to introduce Jeongguk as your boyfriend. Whoopsie.

‘Oh,’ Seokjin gasped. ‘I’m sorry, I thought—

You didn't want him to feel guilty for your lies. ‘It’s okay,’ you reassured him. 'He knows; he just didn't expect you to know about it.'

‘Oh, whew.’ Seokjin laughed in relief, but his voice still sounded strained.

Your dad tried to appear nonchalant, but you could see he was tense and confused. Probably a bit mad at you for acting this way and spreading such knews amongst these people.

A few awkward moments later you excused yourself and immediately went to find Jeongguk.

‘I need to get some fresh air,’ you told him.

He looked worried again. ‘I know just the spot,’ he said.’

Having studied the hotel's map beforehand, Jeongguk led you out to the hall and down the corridor. He pressed the call button for the elevator. The event was being held on the second floor. The door glided open smoothly as it should in a five star hotel. Inside Jeongguk's finger pressed against one of the buttons, and suddenly, in the silence that followed, you were reminded of the way his finger landed on your knee earlier that night.

He only proved your theory about you being deprived of sincere touches, of genuine contact. He only touched you with one finger and he wasn‘t pushy or needy, he didn‘t need anything more, didn‘t expect something in return. It was only for your own good; Jeongguk was caring for you; he was putting an effort into reminding you that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to calm you down with that soft, warm smile of his.

When the elevator came to a halt on the first floor still saying nothing you both stepped into the lobby. Wordlessly, he led you through the doors in the back of the hotel.

You were still swimming in your own thoughts. He did something selfless for you, and what did you do? You selfishly reached for his hand and placed it upon your knee, seeking not only for comfort but also thrill. There was guilt gnawing in the back of your mind, but there was also a little voice there saying that he could‘ve easily withdrawn his hand if he wanted to. He didn‘t. He kept it there until the end of the speeches. And if you weren‘t mistaken his smile seemed genuine when you glanced at him a couple of times. Though there was a thin line between him being sincere and him being an obsequious employee.

There were bushes and plants like thuja, meticulously cut and standing gracefully. Lots of green under the moonlight and some solar lamps placed strategically as to properly exhibit the beauty of nature at night by not overwhelming the charm of the night itself.

There was a path snaking its way amongst rose bushes. The view eventually opened up to a glorious fountain.

‘Beautiful,’ you breathed in awe, intending to leave the problems behind you in the hotel and fully immersing into the allure of the place.

Jeongguk sat on one of the benches placed around the fountain; you followed suit.

‘So,’ you said, ‘you have a plan for any kind of situation that could end up hurting me?’

‘Not any situation, but…’

‘Imagine someone’s head popping up out of the water.’ You gestured toward the fountain.

Jeongguk smiled. ’Well that’s pretty unrealistic, but—

‘Okay, then tell me something realistic.’

‘No one could know for sure you’d go outside tonight. If they have people here, then they have even more people inside. Since I don’t have a gun, I’d have to assert the situation quickly and get you to a safe place, call for backup. If I couldn’t get you to a safe place quickly enough, I’d have to be your shield.’

‘Meaning?’ You asked, intrigued. He couldn’t be talking about—

‘Jumping in front of a bullet.’

‘Damn. You’d really do that?’

‘It’s my job.’

That was hot, if you were being honest.

However, the image of Jeongguk taking a bullet for you was interrupted by your father. Not him physically, but the idea of him. Him and his lies.

Why did he wanted you to meet Seokjin? For the same reason as your grandmother? That would be incredibly weird.

‘Why do people lie to me?’ You asked.

Jeongguk inhaled, exhaled slowly, but came up with nothing. ‘I don‘t know...’

‘Why did you lie to me?’

He gave you a confused look. ‘I didnt—

‘When I said you were with your friends or whatever you didn‘t deny it.’

A sigh. ‘I didn‘t want to—I wanted to look cool, I guess.’

‘Cool?’ you smiled. ‘Having friends doesn’t exactly make you cool.’

‘I know, I just... your life is...’ Jeongguk gestured toward the fountain in attempt of trying to show what he meant. ‘And my life is...’ he lowered his head.

‘My life isn‘t only glorious fountains, you know.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he quickly agreed.

‘But I get it.’

‘You do?’ He had hopeful eyes.

You nodded. ‘My life can look glorious at times, but it isn‘t only sunshine and rainbows. You don‘t have to look cool or anything. Just be yourself.’

Jeongguk grinned. ‘Okay.’

You could see the wind whoosh past the plants on the left, then grazing past the bushes on the right, brushing against your skin on the way. It was a cold one. You quivered.

‘Here.’ Having noticed it, Jeongguk took his suit jacket off and gently placed it upon your shoulders. It felt warm.

‘What a gentleman you are, Jeongguk.’

He lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug, grinning.

You noticed his tie was a little loose, just the tiniest bit. You couldn‘t help but reach over and fix it.

Your fingers worked graciously. ‘A really nice tie. You choose it yourself?’

Jeongguk was smiling. ‘With the help of an employee in the store.’

‘Well, you both have great taste then.’

Being that close to him, you spotted a tiny scar on his cheek that you hadn‘t noticed before. Your hand reached up on its own accord. You touched it lightly.

He watched your hand.

‘How did you get it?’

You watched his lips.

His lips were pink, plump and looked very kissable.

‘I got in a fist fight as a kid.’

‘You fight often?’

He glanced at your lips as well as your gaze moved from his lips to his eyes. ‘No. I actually hate fighting.’

‘But you‘d fight for me?’

One corner of his lips twitched upwards. ‘Absolutely.’

That was when you leaned forward. You halted your movement just when you noticed that Jeongguk started leaning in too. What the hell were you doing? He was your bodyguard.

He stopped as well.

Just millimetres away from his lips you murmured rather seductively (either because of the alcohol or the sheer thrill of the situation), ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

Jeongguk gulped. ‘Yes,’ he whispered barely audibly.

You smiled. ‘What was that? I couldn‘t hear you.’

He inhaled and closed his eyes as if that would help with his embarrassment. ‘Yes, I do, miss ____.’

There it was again—he called you miss. But this time it seemed so different. The word fell from his lips in a way that made you want to kiss him even more.

You didn‘t stop smiling. ‘You‘re a good boy, Jeongguk.’ You realized didn‘t deserve him.

You pulled away, facing the fountain. ‘Too good.’

‘Wha—what‘s that supposed to mean?’

You exhaled. ‘Nothing you should over think.’

You thought about giving the jacket back to him, but decided against it. Having your father see you with your bodyguard’s jacket on your shoulders seemed a good idea, even if created by the slightly childish side of you.

You stood up, strolled toward the hotel, then turned around to call for your stunned bodyguard. ‘C’mon. It’s time to make our exit.’

#armiesnet #kwriterskollection #busanboysnet #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jeongguk #bts bodyguard au #bts fake dating au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #jungkook x you #true care #joonsgalaxy #was kyut-tea

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vanholstein · 5 years

Text

How much research is done in creating dishes for the manga?

Yūto Tsukuda: Every week, the three of us meet together—myself, Saeki, and our chief editor—and it's always explicitly for research. We talk about a lot of dishes, so we can have an in-stock library of options that we all keep with us. Depending on the storyline, we would go into the materials we had stocked and say "oh yeah, that dish would match this character or that storyline, let's use this one, let's use that one." So sometimes the dishes we have planned for an upcoming story have been in our stock for a year already, and sometimes it'll be something someone found two or three days ago.

ANN: As a producer, what do you think is the most important factor to consider when translating Food Wars!' appeal from manga into anime? What have you learned through that process that you plan to bring to season four?

Noriko Dohi: I believe that the appeal of this show really comes from the culinary battles and the comedy. It's that difference between the serious battles and the comedic side that forms the story's biggest appeal. During the creative process for the anime, I think it's most important to emphasize those two cornerstones. Usually when you're cooking, there isn't anything action-packed about it. You don't see vibrant and lively movements from everyone working on the food, so we really wanted to emphasize that difference in the anime series through the art. For the comedy, we always want to emphasize how cute and cool the characters are, so their sense of humor comes through. Those are the two most important aspects of Food Wars! as an anime. What I've learned from working on this series for a very long time is that the theme of culinary art, or even just food in general, is a major draw for a lot of people all over the world. So I really want to keep going with that energy for this new season too.

What was your mindset heading into the final arc of the manga, and what were some of the challenges you faced when deciding how to end it?

Tsukuda: Of course there's always the concern of "Is it really okay that I did this? Are the readers going to be satisfied with this sort of ending?" What I'm going to talk about now is really spoilery, so I hope everyone has already read through to the end. I've always wanted to end the series with Soma and Erina getting hitched, but it was difficult for me to get to that point naturally in the story. So I had to rewrite it over and over before I could revise it to an ending that I liked. I really hope that all the fans are satisfied with the sort of ending that I reached.

Is there any character in Food Wars! that you wish you could have spent more time with?

Tsukuda: Rindo is a character that I really wanted to explore more deeply. I didn't know she was going to be so popular! To be honest, I really want to write a version of the story where Rindo was the main character, where she's the one battling her way to the top and beating all these other chefs. But obviously, Soma was already the main character, so that kind of storyline wouldn't have been possible at that point.

Soma has a unique confidence that allows him to make connections outside of his social standing. What was the inspiration behind this aspect of his character?

Tsukuda: First of all, I really wanted to create a character that would be a good match for Saeki-sensei's art, the kind of character who could excite women with his culinary skills. I thought that a cool character who girls like would not be all over them, he would be kind of a cool tough boy who does his own thing. I wanted to depict him as someone who's serious about his art. He's focused on cooking instead of being easily distracted by girls. So his cavalier attitude was a result of wanting to make him the kind of character that girls would find appealing.

What was your inspiration behind the creation of the last group of colorful combatants Soma faces in Food Wars?

Tsukuda: In a shonen series, the final group of enemies is a major familiar trope for writers and readers. There is a popular older cooking manga called Chuuka Ichiban! In that series, there are many unbelievable chefs with superhuman powers. For instance, one character uses an ice-knife for his dishes, and if you touch it, it will give you frostbite. So I wanted to save that superhuman style of character for this important arc.

Soma has been consistently popular in our Anime Trending manga polls, and he even won most popular character of the year. What were your reactions to Soma becoming so popular abroad?

Tsukuda: That's amazing. I've often heard people make comparisons between Goku and Soma. I understand it in that they both aren't afraid to challenge foes who are much stronger than them.

Dohi: I believe Soma's character is the key to the success of this series, just because he's so easy to watch and keeps things lighthearted. Oftentimes, when things get too serious in stories, readers and viewers can be overwhelmed by that heaviness. But with Soma in the mix, it becomes much easier to relax while enjoying the story.

Has creating Food Wars! inspired you to cook more often or with more theatrical flair?

Shun Saeki: I've always enjoyed cooking myself. When I was a student in university, I cooked all the time. But I don't cook at all anymore.

Tsukuda: It's the same for me too. Back when the series was first serialized, I did cook for myself. But when I started getting really busy with the manga, most times I did not want to cook at all or even think about cooking. These days, I'm thinking maybe I should pick it up again!

Dohi: I actually cook for myself often, and when the first season started airing, I would cook each dish that was featured each time and put them on social media. I saw that many fans were loving it, even overseas, and that was really exciting. But when there was an episode about bear meat, for example, that sort of thing I couldn't do.

Tsukuda: It's impressive, because sometimes I had my doubts that any of these dishes could actually be made.

ANN: So did you start this project with the peanut butter and octopus combo?

Dohi: I did indeed.

ANN: Was it edible?

Dohi: It was edible, and I even had Matsuoka-san, the voice of Yukihira Soma, eat it for me.

Tsukuda: I've had the dish as well, and I think the key to the recipe is the peanut butter. The peanut butter you use determines whether it will taste good or not. So long as the peanut butter you choose is not too sweet, it will turn out alright. The texture doesn't make as much difference, but I think the smooth peanut butter would be best.

ANN: When it comes to illustrating "the ecstasy of food" and how good something should taste, what was the greatest challenge you faced in translating a dish into manga?

Saeki: It's really difficult to describe the taste of food purely through drawings and dialogue in manga. This is especially true in terms of spicy flavors, so I would make sure that a character's body language conveyed that detail, emphasizing the sweat breaking out on their face while they described what they were tasting. There are times when I don't even focus on emphasizing the specific taste or flavor of a dish at all, and I'm more interested in the comedic effect that it has on the character as they eat. We really want the readers to laugh at those reactions.

Do you have a favorite reaction scene?

Saeki: Yes, it's Magical Cabbage.

Dohi: Yes, you could ask all of us, and it will always be Magical Cabbage.

Tsukuda: It was modeled after Sailor Moon or especially Precure, and that was all Saeki-sensei's idea. I wanted to show Dojima as a magical girl, and he said "Then let's have five of them!"

Saeki: I've always enjoyed watching transformation sequences in series like Sailor Moon, so I knew that to have a sequence of that striking caliber, we needed several beautiful women. The only problem is that there's a muscular man right in the middle.

ANN: That's gap appeal.

Tsukuda: Yes, exactly. Thank you for appreciating the gap.

Usually, separating the writer and artist is something more associated with Western-style comic books. Is that style of collaboration becoming more common in Japan, and what was the dynamic between the two of you like?

Tsukuda: That's definitely becoming more common now. In the past, it was more common for duos working on manga to be separate rather than working close together, but nowadays, as we have a lot of titles on the market, this type of closer collaboration is becoming more common, with The Promised Neverland and Dr. Stone being other examples. My motivation throughout this whole project came from wanting to demonstrate the greatness of Saeki-sensei's art. That was actually the main point of our project at the outset, so it was always my greatest motivation.

Saeki: For me, I don't have the storytelling power that Tsukuda-sensei has, so it was like this chemical reaction of our good aspects coming together to bring this story to life.

Like a Maillard reaction, when you fry something and it creates a new flavor?

Tsukuda: Definitely like that.

What does the other person in this collaboration do that drives you nuts sometimes?

Tsukuda: I think Saeki-sensei would get pissed off when I'm slow with material.

Saeki: No no, never! There isn't anything that really gets me annoyed with Tsukuda-sensei, because we both have a strong goal of creating something great together. We can always talk to each other because of that passion, and we aren't afraid of letting each other know what we want to do and how we want to do things. That comes from our desire to work as a team and create something worthwhile together.

Was Food Wars! the first time you had collaborated?

Tsukuda: This was the first time we had formally worked together, but I knew about Saeki-sensei from the past because he was my senpai in university. He's always given me pointers and been clear about his goals, because he's a very logical individual. I know that whenever he critiques something or points out a problem that needs to be fixed, it's coming from a logical place and not an emotional perspective. So I take his critiques seriously and understand that they're something I need to work on.

Are you planning on collaborating together again soon?

(Tsukuda and Saeki high five.)

Tsukuda: Yeah, we've been talking about our future plans on this trip.

We'll be looking forward to it. If you could have any of Food Wars!' characters as your personal chef, who would you pick?

Tsukuda: Megumi. Her cuisine is based around home cooking, so it's very peaceful and kind in its flavors. That way, even when I get much older, I don't have to worry about her dishes being too spicy or weird or anything. If I eat something that the other chefs make when I get old, I might die from too much excitement.

Saeki: I actually want more excitement in my life, so maybe Rindo! She will find ways to cook something that I've never had before. I'll actually live longer, because I'll be excited all the time.

Dohi: I would definitely want Kojiro Shinomiya. For one thing, his dishes would be healthy. His food is based heavily in French cuisine, and he uses a lot of vegetables. But for another thing, he's a very sadistic character, so to be able to make him do what I want would be extra-fun for me.

ANN: I feel like that's a very fitting answer for a producer.

Tsukuda: (laughs) Well, no matter who you are, if you hire a personal chef, you would have to tell them very directly what you want.

Saeki: If I can have one more answer, I would also want Mimasaka Subaru. That way, if I'm at a restaurant and I try something I really like, I can just tell him that this is what I want, and he could whip up something just like it on the spot.

Tsukuda: Damn, I didn't think of that.

How do you feel about the series, which is unique in the world of cooking manga, being popular all over the world?

Saeki: I think its popularity is mostly due to Tsukuda's amazing writing skills and character building, but another thing that's important to note is that, compared to many cooking manga that have come and gone, Food Wars! really emphasizes the battle aspect of shonen series, which I think is a unique point in its favor.

Tsukuda: In terms of genre, there are many modern culinary manga for more mature audiences, not shonen but seinen titles. Many of them are enjoyed just to kill time, with very passive storytelling that's meant to be read on the train or while waiting around. But going into the history of culinary manga, there are many shonen titles as well, like Shouta no Sushi, and because this unchanging base of cooking stories in shonen is so easy to access and reference, I think people are still drawn to the concept of dramatic cooking manga.

Dohi: In Japan, it's very common to find culinary manga, so I believe that people will keep loving this kind of story even twenty or thirty years from now.

It stands out to me that the cast of Food Wars is very international.

Tsukuda: That was very important to me. I wanted the younger readers experiencing this manga to learn about different types of food and culture from different countries. I thought it would be great if kids reading the manga could grow up, travel the world, see unique dishes and remember, "I saw that in Food Wars! when I was a kid."

Kind of like how Slam Dunk influenced basketball?

Tsukuda: Definitely. Kids in Japan didn't even know the rules of basketball before Slam Dunk. I think it's really important for kids to learn something through manga when they're reading it.

Saeki: Because of Slam Dunk, I actually joined the basketball team in my elementary school. Obviously, I didn't stay with it, though.

Tsukuda: I didn't know that!

Saeki: I also played ping pong, and even competed in a regional event.

Has anyone told you that their life has changed or that they look at food differently because of your manga?

Tsukuda: I have gotten letters from fans saying that they wanted to become a chef after reading Food Wars!, and even some letters saying that they had become a chef! It makes me really happy.

What was your favorite recipe in the series and why?

Dohi: I actually asked this of the creative team around the studio, because I knew you guys were probably going to ask that question. From the director to the art director to all around the staff, everyone was excited about rice dishes in particular—we are Japanese, so that's always going to be a point of interest—and out of all the rice dishes, the omurice with the curry risotto inside was definitely one of our favorites to demonstrate in the anime. Of course you can't smell anything from the screen, but to be able to depict the smell bursting out from the omurice when the spoon cuts in was rewarding. That moment was shocking for all of us when we first read it, so we wanted to give it a lively and energetic presentation in the anime.

Tsukuda: For me, it was definitely the midnight laksa curry, the dark and stinky curry made from kusaya, which is a very traditional Japanese dish. I really want to try it myself, to experience that contrast between its overwhelming stinkiness and being so delicious when you actually eat it. Seeing the smell just permeating throughout the hall was interesting.

Saeki: My pick has not appeared in the anime yet, but it's the dish made by Somei Saito, a ruby sushi made of mabuho and tuna. That would definitely be delicious. Just thinking about it now makes me salivate. I love sushi.

ANN: Now that the manga is coming to a close, and the anime isn't far behind, what have been your most memorable experiences along the way?

Tsukuda: You know, now that I think about it, this trip might be the most freeing and fun experience I've had since beginning Food Wars! For seven years now, since starting the project, every single moment of my life, no matter what else I'm doing, I'm always thinking about the manga in the back of my head. So now, it's like I'm trying to remember "What was fun about it?"

Saeki: For me, being serialized in Jump was my ultimate dream. Just knowing that I was able to create a work that continued on for such a long time was a dream come true for me, every single day that Food Wars! was in serialization. So that has become my fondest memory, every day that I got to have a hit in Shonen Jump. It was the second time for Tsukuda, but the first time for me.

Tsukuda: Well, the first time I got serialized in Jump, my manga was cut in 15 weeks, so this was a much better experience. Food Wars! is my first real success.

Dohi: It's a little hard for me to think about memories at this stage, because unlike these two that are done with the project, the anime is still in the heat of production, so I get to go back to Japan after this trip, and there's going to be hell waiting for me. So I can't think of any memories just yet.

Tsukuda: I'm so sorry.

ANN: In that case, what are you most looking forward to sharing with fans in season four?

Dohi: For the fourth season, it will be a direct continuation of the arc from the third season, so we're hoping that fans will appreciate how the characters have all grown since then.

Is there someone special in your life who inspired your love of cooking?

Dohi: My parents. My father is a chef. I would just watch my father's back as he cooked for us every time, and I grew to appreciate the happiness that comes from making something for others and sharing it with them.

Tsukuda: I didn't know your father was a chef, either! What did he specialize in?

Dohi: French-style cuisine.

Tsukuda: I'm learning so many new things in this interview.

Saeki: For me, it was my father as well. Many parents like to cook things that are simple for their kids that they can easily enjoy, like hamburg steak, but when I was a kid, my father was really into cooking with unusual ingredients, like sea urchin. He liked to cook things that paired well with alcohol, since he would drink with his dinner, and when I was little, he would give me a taste of these more grown-up dishes he'd made for himself. So my father had a big impact on my love of diverse foods and wanting to try different kinds of flavors.

Tsukuda: I lived in a small town in Fukuoka prefecture as a child, until I was in high school. When I went to university in Osaka, it was my first time living in a big city, so there were many types of different food to experience, and the variety came as a shock to me. It allowed me to realize that my mom's home cooking was truly unique, as a meal only she could create that was enjoyed exclusively in my own home. It helped me realize a difference in my palate and the tastes and flavors I could enjoy.

#shokugeki no soma #food wars #shonen jump #tsukuda yuto #saeki shun #yuki morisaki #shokugekinosoma #anime news network

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lumosinlove · 6 years

Note

Hey :D would I be able to request something where Remus and Sirius keep denying their feelings for each other until one of them caves during a very heated argument? ❤️

So this is basically the prompt?? It got a little away from me (and a little SMUTTY at the end - not too bad) but I hope you like it anyhow!

Remus couldn’t decide if he liked it when Sirius smoked or not. He liked the way he looked doing it, with the bright embers against his skin and the smoke caging him in. He liked his hands, holding the stick softly, and the hollow of his cheeks. He even didn’t mind the smell. It came to remind him of lazy evenings like this. Peter was gone, James was gone, and it was the two of them in the door. Sirius had one of the windows cracked to let the smoke waft out and the sunset in. It was a warm night, and Sirius’ hair was cut short for the summer, curling over his forehead. His hand cupped the bud every time a wind blew, protecting the small flames and sucking the smoke into his chest to keep the burning alive. He handled that cigarette so gently, his hands and mouth careful and needy of the drug. The fact that it was that little object that was getting that sort of attention was what swayed Remus’ mind from full on loving when Sirius smoked. Careful and needy. Remus sighed and looked away, jealousy disguised as irrational annoyance blooming in his chest.

“What?” Sirius’ words were muffled by the object of annoyance.

Remus kept his eyes on his book, “What?”

Sirius looked over at Remus from the window, taking another drag before saying, “That’s about the third time you’ve sighed.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at the words he wasn’t reading, “So?”

“So, you’re trying to get my attention.”

“Nope. Go back to your smoke.”

Sirius turned his whole body then, set into motion by the dismissive tone. He swung his legs off the windowsill and dropped to the floor, cigarette still between his fingers, “What?”

“I’m reading.”

Sirius stood there, a little across the room, blinking down at where Remus was sunk in the beanbag chair Lily had bought for them from a muggle store. There was sudden tug in his chest, pulling his ribs taught. Maybe it was the letter from home he had received that morning, or the detention that afternoon, but he wasn’t in the mood to be ignored. He felt stupid standing there but he was too riled to turn his back, “What?” Was all he could think to say again, a little harsher.

He watched a muscle in Remus’ jaw twitch, but it finally made their eyes meet, “Nothing. I already said.”

Sirius huffed and Remus actually rolled his eyes, “You’re the one who started this conversation. You were wrong, you can’t huff at me.”

“I’m not—“ Sirius pressed his lips together and turned away, settling back on the window, “Fine.”

When James walked in later and immediately whistled something about the tension in the room, Sirius didn’t say anything, and Remus went down to the common room. Sirius put his cigarette out, and started another, then fell asleep before he could hear Remus come back up to bed.

The tightness hadn’t released from Sirius’ chest the entire week, and Sirius was beginning to miss the half pint of air he felt like was constantly absent. Every time he looked at Remus, he wanted, and every time he wanted, he wanted Remus to want too. And every time Remus didn’t, a small part of his lungs stopped working. It was beginning to be a problem; he was wanting quite a lot.

And still, he needed the want like he needed air. He needed Remus around, because with the need replacing air, he required the pull.

“Do you want to study later?” Remus looked up at him with a half grin and Sirius rolled his eyes, “Yes, I said study. I’m failing Charms, you know this.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Remus’ half smile became a full one. And there was the want, tugging the oxygen from his throat. Sirius swallowed the pining instead.

“Meet in the common room?”

Remus nodded, reaching for the pumpkin juice, “Seven.”

Seven passed and became seven thirty, which became eight, which became eight thirty. Sirius sat, he waited, and the want mixed with annoyance for long enough that when Remus walked through the door, it was anger.

“Good of you to come.”

Remus had the crease between his brows that only appeared when he was especially worried. His knuckles were white around his bag, “Pads, I’m sorry, McGonagall, she took me into her office and started talking about future career possibilities. You know how they’re springing these meetings on fifth years now—“

“Yeah.” Was all Sirius said, eyes still trained on Remus’ brow, wanting to smooth it, maybe kiss it, wanting wanting wanting, “Okay, it’s fine. I’m tired now though.”

“Oh.” Remus nodded, and threw his stuff down at the table anyway, “Okay. Well, do you wa—“

“What’s going on with you and that bloke from Potions?”

Sirius thanked god for the dark lighting, because he flushed from his ears to his chest, but the thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. Maybe he was with him and not at a meeting. Maybe maybe.

Remus blinked, sitting back in his chair, “What?”

Sirius didn’t have an answer, which annoyed him further, so he re-directed it at Remus and rolled his eyes. It was easier than being jealous, “Nothing. Never mind.”

Remus shook his head, “No, what bloke? Charlie? What the—where did that come from?” Remus’ eyes found Sirius’ hands which had pulled out his pack of smokes, “Can you put those away for two fucking seconds?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “What?”

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it, then shrugged one shoulder, “I asked first.”

They sat there, staring at each other, unsure as to what exactly the question had been.

“The blonde one.” Sirius said finally, then, “You’ve never minded me smoking before.”

“I don’t mind.” Remus said too quickly. And it was true, he didn’t, what he minded was the long fingers wrapping around the cigarette and the lips and the hollowed cheeks. Remus scowled, trying to push any feeling over the one that was threatening to tear through his heart get to Sirius’, “You just didn’t answer—“

“I answered.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Sirius pulled a smoke out just to watch the way Remus’ eyes tracked his hand motions. He mumbled to it, palm cupped around the enchanted filter until it glowed to life, “Just thought that’s where you might’ve been, s’all.”

Remus blinked, lips parted, then scoffed, “You think I was shacking up with some bloke from Potions? When I just told you where I was, what, you don’t believe me?”

Sirius blew smoke out into the air slowly, “No, I was just asking. Pretty sure Minnie would’ve let you go if you said you had homework.”

“I didin’t have homework, Sirius, you did.” Remus knew the words would hurt but he thought maybe the guilt would crush the want, “And you know I need all the help I can get. In here, what I am is a secret. Out there it’s going to be practically impossible for me to even go into a fucking pub, Sirius, what the hell.”

Sirius shook his head, “No one would bother us in a pub.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, “What’re you going to do, blow smoke at them? And who said you’d be with me?”

Remus shut his mouth the second the words escaped but Sirius was already up, flicking the cigarette into the fire, and walking up the staircase with nothing but an “okay.”

Remus was confused to say the least. He thought Sirius was angry with him, and then he would send him a blinding smile over breakfast, one that he couldn’t help returning. Then he’d catch Sirius’ gaze on him, a stare that practically felt like fire against his skin, and was met with no smile.

Then Sirius turned up at Hogsmeade with Allison Turner and a smile for both her and Remus. And, honestly, Remus wanted to kill him.

“Hey.” Allison greeted the table for both of them as they sat down at The Three Broomsticks. Lily was the only one with enough poise to return the greeting. James had his mouth slightly open. Remus was too focused on keeping the waves of nausea in his stomach at bay when Sirius threw an arm around the back of her chair, his thumb trailing lazily along her shoulder. Remus watched his hand with a clenched jaw.

“Sorry we’re late.” Sirius said, drawing one of the butterbeers towards him, “Alli wanted to stop at ‘dukes.” He reached a hand into his pocket briefly and his eyes found Remus’, “Here, Re.”

Remus watched the oversized chocolate bar slide across the worn wood table, stopping with a small nudge against his own butterbeer. His chest swelled in a strange fight over warmth and cool fucking fury because what? You bring a girl and chocolate for me? What?

Remus choked out, “Thanks.” Then got up from the table. He made it through the door without any protests from the others and walked briskly through the summer evening until he was behind The Three Broomsticks, sinking down onto what he assumed was a smoking stool for the staff. A wind blew dust in his eyes and he cursed, pressing his thumb and forefinger into them and bowing his head.

“What, you don’t like chocolate anymore?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, “Fuck. Why, you’re going to drop me some mid-snog next time?”

“Are…” Sirius’ voice hesitated and Remus heard him take another step forward, “Are you cr—“

“No.” Remus sat up, looking at him blankly, “I got dust in my eyes.” He realized how lame it sounded too late, but Sirius, after a brief survey of his face, seemed to believe him.

“What makes you think I’m going to snog her?”

“Well, why else did you bring her?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Maybe I like her.”

Remus shook his head, pushing his hands through his slightly sweaty hair, “You don’t like her.”

Sirius put his hands up a little, in defense, before dropping them to his side, “Okay, Jesus.”

“What is happening, Sirius?” Remus stood, slight, unhumored smile on his face, “Okay? What’s happening, I don’t get it. You smile then you’re fucking dismissive. And I know I fight back with the same fire but I—“ Remus shook his head, shrugging, “What the fuck. I didn’t do anything.”

Sirius was suddenly in Remus’ space, having taken the two strides forward so that Remus was anchored between the brick wall and Sirius’ chest. Remus’ lips parted, and when he breathed too heavy their chests touched, rib to rib.

“I didn’t do anything.” He whispered into the significantly smaller space.

Sirius still didn’t say anything, but all Remus could really process was that the air had turned humid with their breaths, and his heart was pounding into his stomach. Then Sirius’ hands, his slender, fucking gorgeous hands, pressed into Remus’ jaw, holding him still. Sirius’ eyes flickered at the full-body shudder it elicited from Remus, his eyes glazing over with the power to effect him like that.

“You watch my hands.” Sirius breathed, “All the time.” His tongue wet his bottom lip as he watched Remus’ eyes flutter when he pressed his thumb to Remus’ mouth, dragging it across his lip, “All the fucking time.”

“This isn’t an explanation.” Remus’ voice shook, and his hands found Sirius’ jacket, fisting the material. He shoved a little, but didn’t let go, “What the fuck are you trying to do to me.” Sirius pressed into Remus’ space further, knee between his thighs, watching the way his thumb slipped slightly into Remus’ mouth as he spoke. Remus swore lightly, letting his head fall back against the brick, “Sirius.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Sirius tilted his head a little, eyes hooded and shining, “Or maybe you did everything, I don’t know. The point is…”

He trailed off because Remus, fucking hell, couldn’t seem to help himself and had bit gently down over Sirius thumb.

“Remus.”

“What’s the point?” Remus pressed, twisting his fists in Sirius’ jacket.

“Well, I think you know if you’re acting like this.”

Remus pulled a little, and Sirius had to bend down, neck arching to brush their noses together, “Say it.”

Sirius licked his lips. There were a million ways he had seen this never panning out. He’d never expected it to work, never expected Remus to want him back.

“I want you.” He said out loud, voice shaking under the weight of the three words he’d never dared say in his head, “I want you right now, I’ve wanted you for months.”

Remus let out a breath, letting the words wash over him, and said, “Me too. Me too, Pads, me too—“

Sirius didn’t even think to move his thumb before he crushed their mouths together, and he felt the bruising pressure Remus pressed back with in the way his lip dipped around his finger. He shuttered, tugging it away to part Remus’ mouth with his tongue instead, fingers hooking back around his jaw. Remus made a soft noise and tilted his chin up into the kiss his hands smoothing over Sirius’ shoulders to reach his back, digging into the dips beneath his wing bones. They kissed for what felt like ages, hard and heavy and fast, more teeth and tongue than necessary probably but Sirius was busy gaining the oxygen he’d been missing straight from Remus’ lungs, busy easing every ache in his bones with the weight of Remus’ palms.

He felt Remus’ hands reach down further and press into his own, winding their fingers together tightly. Sirius smirked a little against his mouth and brought their hands up to press over Remus’ head against the wall. Their new position flushed their bodies together, causing Remus to make another one of his small sounds, setting fire to Sirius’ bloodstream.

“Fuck.” Remus mumbled, “Can we go back?” Remus’ lips slid down Sirius’ neck, biting, “I wanna go back and…”

Sirius was reluctant to lose any of their present contact, but the thought of a completely bare Remus, beneath him, spread out and fair against his sheets, was enough to spur him on. He drew Remus’ mouth back to his for one more kiss before nodding.

“Wait,” he said when Remus went to move. He bracketed him in again, drawing a smile from Remus, “I…” He let his eyes flit over Remus’ face, “I really do want you, Re. And I know things are pretty—heated right now, but I want you to know. I, I mean the quiet parts too. Not just this.” He pressed a softer kiss to Remus’ mouth, the softest one he had yet delivered, and the look on Remus’ face when he pulled back made him do it three more time.

Remus gently untangled their hands in favor of cupping the back of Sirius’ neck, “Sounds nice.” He was grinning and, this time, maybe there were a few tears in his eyes, “The quiet parts with you.”

Sirius grinned back, taking his hand again and pulling him in the vague direction of the station, “Well. We can save those for after. I think I want some loud parts first.”

Sirius watched the flush rise against Remus’ neck and pulled him into a kiss again.

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years

Text

The Knave

A/N: Part 5 of The Debt Collector Series. Omgosh we’re winding up to the end!!

A/N 2: TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC ABUSE

Super big thank you to my bestie and beta @chloes-yellow-cup who puts up with me when I’m annoying (which is all the time), and STILL is kind enough to read and edit for me.

AAAAAND a very special thank you to @kate-harper because look at what she made!!! It is the greatest thing I have ever seen. It’s beautiful and I love and I have it saved as my lock screen so I can stare at it all day at work.

Stacie

“Give me twenty minutes? I want to get out of this dress while I’m packing a bag.”

Cynthia Rose gave a nod as she pulled past the gate. It was pretty late but she hadn’t wanted to stay at home for the night. Not after the incident with Phillip, she just couldn’t stomach the idea of being anywhere that reminded her of Weston or his friends. And as much as she hated the truth of it, her home was the last place that she would call safe. She just needed to grab a few things and some clothes and CR had kindly offered a ride home and then to Aubrey’s.

“It’s cool, Ashley will wait.”

Stacie shook her head at that with a soft chuckle. She was starting to suspect that Cynthia Rose’s side girl was a little more involved than just something casual. “Twice in one week, that sounds serious.”

“Pots and kettles, Stace. Pots and kettles.”

It was fair and she gave a laugh before sliding out of the car with keys and shoes in one hand, her purse in the other. It was dark inside but she knew the layout like the back of her hand, Stacie picked her way through the dark house intending to stop in her office to grab her planner before heading upstairs to change and pack. A pale glow from the under cabinet lights in the kitchen across the way bathed the hallway floor just outside her office but the room itself was pitch black. The dark didn’t normally scare her, not really, but her office felt like it was breathing malice and it made a shiver chase down her spine.

She should have let Aubrey drive her, really she should have, but the blonde had gotten a call she had to take and Stacie thought it would be just a quick trip to get her things. It shouldn’t have needed an armed escort for something so simple. But here she was, suddenly afraid to move. The tall brunette hesitated by her desk, reaching out for the warm leather of her planner when a voice came out of the deep shadows and it was the last voice she wanted to hear.

“I waited for you.”

Fear made her heart stop then beat triple time and she considered just running out of the room. But he would catch her, he always caught her. No matter how many times she’d tried to run away from him in the moment, he always managed to get to her just in time. Sometimes purposely letting her think she could get away before smashing her hopes with heavy hands. Stacie swallowed thickly and slowly stood to her full height as he clicked on the floor lamp next to the arm chair he sat in.

“Wes. Jesus Christ, you scared me.”

“I said. I. Waited. For. You.” His words were cold and the threat in them was clearly heard despite his low volume. It wasn’t at all the same reaction she got from hearing the menace in Aubrey’s voice, no this sparked a different type of response all together. “Where were you Stacie?”

Just for a moment rebellion flared up in her and she wanted to throw it in his face exactly where she had been and exactly with whom. She wanted him to know that Aubrey had treated her like royalty and then fucked her into oblivion in the back seat of her car because they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She wanted to get in every stinging jab that she could but she didn’t dare provoke him. Not when he was in an already perilous mood.

“I was at my fundraiser. I thought you were busy with work?” She knew he hadn’t left town, but Stacie thought it was better to let him think she was clueless as possible. He didn’t say anything and she reached for her planner again. It was wishful thinking that she could just grab it and walk away, and she knew it, but it was still disappointing when he stood and unfolded his long body from the shadows as he made his way toward her. It was hard to remember a time when she loved him, when she had thought that he loved her. Especially right now where every word and gesture was laced with danger and hate.

Of course now she knew he had never loved her, only her money, and the amount of punishment she could take. Stacie’s stomach turned and she wanted to run away screaming for help but she was frozen to the spot just watching him draw closer like every insidious nightmare she’d ever had. He grabbed her upper arm tightly and pulled her close to his chest. Up close like this even in the dark she could see that there was something wrong with his face. His mouth seemed…odd and when he spoke she realized why.

“Oh I was taking care of business alright.” His grip was bruising and he dragged her across the floor of the office toward the credenza. “Open the safe.” When she resisted being pulled along he brought his hand up and backhanded her so hard it left her ears ringing. “You know why you fight me don’t you?” He yanked her back into him before shoving her hard against the edge of the credenza, her hip connecting with it painfully. “You like the abuse Stacie.”

She didn’t. Not at all. Yes she could admit that she liked it rough and wild, and she definitely could admit that when she and Weston started seeing each other the sex had a lot to do with her attraction to him. But over the years the lines had blurred until there was no line left to cross. Now every touch was just wrong to her and she couldn’t help but recoil when his hands tangled in her hair to yank her head roughly around to face him. He smiled at the fear on her face but the smile faded to be replaced with rage as her revulsion replaced the fear in her eyes.

Aubrey hadn’t been playing games with Weston and even with dental implants or partial dentures his smile would never be the same. It gave her a deep sense of satisfaction and she was too slow to stop her lips from curling in a sneer. He slapped her again but his hand lingered and she knew he was enjoying it a little too much. Her guts lurched at the thought of him ever touching her like that again. “Open the fucking safe Stacie.”

She tried to twist away but he gave a savage yank, bringing her head against the wall hard enough to split the skin right at her hairline. A hot line of blood slowly trickled its way down her forehead and along the bridge of her nose as she raised a shaky hand to work the combination lock on the safe. When it was open he shoved her away from him roughly, swinging it open wide to look at the contents. It wasn’t anywhere near what she normally had tucked away but it was still 150 thousand in neat little stacks all nicely banded and counted already. Stacie swiped at her forehead and stepped back as he pulled the money out and started to shove it into a leather valise.

“Where’s the rest?”

“I spent it.” He turned to look at her and she took a step back instinctually. He had never asked her for money before even though he liked that she had it. Weston had his own money that he liked to throw around, and she was convinced his own apartment somewhere closer to his office. Somewhere, she suspected, where he could take the other women he abused. “Why do you need it? You make good money.”

“I don’t have a job right now.” He punched the wall in his anger and she flinched, trembling as he paced and stroked his jaw while he thought. “Those son of a bitches turned on me, Carlton, Walters…even Phillip. I need to pay it all back…I already have that shit bag cop Mitchell on my back. If I get it all back I can salvage it still before it spins out of control.”

It made sense now, Phillip’s behavior at Monte Carlo night, and his two friends so gleeful to see her there alone. They had already known he was in deep trouble and were there to take pleasure in Weston’s downfall. Stacie frowned at what he was saying, her mind not understanding the idea of cops being involved. There was suddenly too much information and not enough context leaving her in a swirl of confusion.

“Weston…Jesus Christ….what did you do?” Stacie could read his body language clearly and turned to bolt away but he was expecting her to and he lunged nearly taking her to the ground with his weight. They stumbled and she wiggled free of him for one victorious moment before he threw her into the desk making her topple and slide to the floor. The impact blinding her momentarily with the rush of pain. “Stop it Wes, please…”

“SHUT UP!” Weston turned his back and paced a few steps before going back to the bag to count what was there. “It’s not enough. It’s not fucking. ENOUGH! Okay okay okay. You’re going to get it. We’ll liquidate some of the assets for fast cash. This could work. I just have to strike a deal with that bitch.”

Stacie winced when she tried to sit up, everything suddenly hurting at once. She made the mistake of whimpering when she finally pulled herself to her feet. Weston turned on her, his gaze calculating and cold. She knew that only meant trouble for her. And she was tired of it. So tired of being hurt and scarred. She was tired of feeling afraid and worthless. She was just so fucking tired of Weston. She sagged against the desk, the edge of it pressing against her thigh along the edge of her forgotten thigh holster.

“You’re going to get me that money Stacie. Today.”

She could give it to him, she had the money, whatever the amount was that he needed. But she didn’t want to because she was over whatever this sick hell was. It wasn’t her fault and she hadn’t deserved any of it. Her mother’s voice tried to rise up and shout her into submission but another smoother, calmer voice drowned it out.

‘Whose girl are you?’

Stacie lifted her head and felt her shoulders square. Aubrey wasn’t there but the memory of her voice and her sure and steady gaze reminded Stacie that she didn’t have to do this anymore. She was a queen and she was done kneeling before him. “No.”

“What? Did you just say ‘no’ to me?” Weston started toward in her a towering tornado of rage and ill intent and her ears filled with the sounds of crashing waves. So loud and thunderous that it drowned out everything else in her mind.

It wasn’t even really a thought the way her hand went to the gun. It was ridiculously easy to draw even though she thought it would be awkward and clumsy. Aubrey had been right when she said that practice would make it fit better in her hand, make her movements fluid and reflexive. She had thought it was all so pointless at the time, the holster, the gun itself, the lessons…but she was grateful for them now. And God it hurt a part of her to raise the gun because she absolutely did not want to shoot and kill him. Yes she maybe wished he would die sometimes but she didn’t want to be the one to do it.

But if it meant saving her own life…

“Stop!”

Weston hesitated and he stared down at the gun in her hand, staring at it in disbelief. “You’re not going to shoot me.” He took a step and she fired, her finger jerking back on the trigger too roughly for a clean shot. Her hand went wide with it but she swung it back quickly, training the barrel on his chest. Not that she was aiming for him really, it was really more to show that she would pull the trigger if he forced her to. The bullet zinged past him and shattered the ugly Mikasa vase her mother had given her at her bridal shower. She always hated that vase.

He stopped dead in his tracks and held his hands up a little but she could see the twitch of his lip as he reigned in his rage. Another drop of blood rolled down her forehead and dripped off her brow. Stacie wiped at it with the back of her free hand and backed up a few steps. “I’m done Wes. I’m so done…”

Weston watched go but he didn’t advance to stop her, in fact he hadn’t so much as said a word as she limped to the door. She was almost out when he spoke again.

“You can leave now, but you’ll never leave me. Don’t forget what I have on you, don’t forget I own you Stacie.”

God. She wanted to throw up and she had to fight to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat. Stacie opened her mouth then closed it and backed out of the office, before she turned and jogged to the front door. He wasn’t behind her and she knew that but it felt like his presence was there running her down and she flung the door open desperate to get out of the house, desperate to get to the safety of Aubrey’s arms. Her bare feet pounded down the front steps and she ran to Cynthia Rose’s car.

It was hard to pull the door open with the gun still in her hand but she managed and shoved herself into the seat with a ragged sob. “Drive.”

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened to you? Why are you holding tha…” “DRIVE! JUST FUCKING DRIVE!”

Stacie covered her face and leaned forward trying to breathe past the weight in her chest as CR pulled out quickly down the drive to the gate. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder expecting to see him but he didn’t give chase. As the gate chugged open far too slowly Weston finally came out to stand at the entry way, watching her with so much hate that she could almost feel it. Tears filled her eyes and she pulled her gaze away to stare straight ahead, forcing herself not to look back again.

“Stacie….what happened?”

“Please just take me home.”

Home. Home was where Aubrey was, not the mausoleum they were rapidly leaving behind. There was nothing there for her, nothing but pain and suffering. Cynthia Rose eyed her warily from the corner of her eye but she drove them west toward safest house in the city. For a long time neither of them said anything but Stacie could hear the leather of the wheel creaking as her best friend gripped in convulsively.

“She’s going to kill him for this. She has to kill him.”

Stacie didn’t bother to say anything to that, choosing instead to focus on not dissolving into a miserable mess of tears and heartbreak. She was going to lose everything she had worked for because there was no way she could ever go back to him. And she didn’t want to.

If he even survived whatever Aubrey would do.

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