#i still have my modern au that's completely planned out but i always choose drawing lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikwrites-archive · 4 years

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sweet dreams (are made of this)

✞ prompt: “You know that part in scary movies when somebody does something really stupid and everyone hates them for it? This is it.”

✞ pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader ✞ warnings: blood mention, the word bastard ✞ genre: fluff, a little crack, modern vampire au ✞ wc: 2.7k

✞ a/n: i was supposed to finish this yesterday so it would fit for jeonghan’s birthday too but it’s still his bday for me so its okay shhhh (even tho i rushed it oops) but it still fits under the cwc october event which i was very excited abt so i hope u enjoy!!

There’s an incredible amount of ups and downs to being roommates with Yoon Jeonghan.

The main downside was that he seemed to gain the reputation of the college campus crush. And even worse, you couldn’t find any reason to disregard the attraction towards him, with his good looks, intelligence and wit, musical ability, and athleticism.

Yet the upside is the very same reason, leaving your dorm empty for your own leisure often due to his popularity.

Perhaps that was for your own good, or his, that you didn’t find out his secret until later.

As you step inside one evening, one typically reserved for movie nights and indulging in junk food, you’re taken aback at the figure sitting on Jeonghan’s mattress. You recognize him as Kwon Soonyoung, the leader of the dance team, and he greets you cheerfully. You’re too flustered to notice the way he seems out of it, and he giggles, flopping down.

“Any spare blood?”

“Excuse me?” You blink, pausing in uneasiness as if you’d misheard. He opens his mouth to respond, sitting up and swaying slightly as if he were drunk, but before he can voice the clattering thoughts, the bathroom door slams open.

“Sorry, we were playing basketball and he got hit on the head really hard, just ignore him.” Jeonghan butts in quickly, hiding something behind his back while taking his friend by the arm, who sends you a toothy smile and a wave.

“Sorry if he said anything weird.” Jeonghan offers as he re-enters the room, and you assure him otherwise automatically, inquiring if Soonyoung was alright.

You’ve always been on amicable terms, always been something easily compelling about Jeonghan, teetering on the border of acquaintances and friendship, and you think it’s this moment that tips it towards the latter.

“Any plans for tonight?” He pipes up curiously, and you tell him hesitantly, his eyes lighting up. “That sounds fun.”

“Did you want to join?”

“If it’s not too much trouble?” He looks hopeful, neither of you even remembering the last time you both spent a night in the dorm in each other’s presence, and you rummage through your shiny bag of sweets to avoid awkward contact.

Yet you’ve always been told it’s only an awkward situation if you make it one.

“I’ve got enough snacks to share.”

Throughout the film, you don’t notice the way he barely touches them.

He tells you on a whim one morning, and he has to admit that the fact you hadn’t suspected anything pertaining to his condition surprised him. You’d grown closer in the passing months, and with many close calls, Jeonghan decided to bite the bullet.

“I’m a vampire.”

“Ha, ha, funny joke.” You don’t look up from pouring coffee into your chipped mug, and Jeonghan blinks.

“I’m not joking.”

“Yeah, and I’m a werewolf.” You deadpan.

“I’d hope not. Though I’m sure I would’ve been able to tell.”

Finally looking up at him, you study his expression, and it’s the epitome of solemness and sincerity, causing you to truly consider his words.

“So… those juice packets… that time with Soonyoung…” your mind races to draw the connections, and Jeonghan shrugs.

“Blood, and that idiot overworked himself that day and our dorm was the closest.”

“This better not be another prank.” You warn, and Jeonghan smiles.

“I’d never dream of it.”

You come to the conclusion that there’s no evidence to point otherwise to Jeonghan’s confession, and your mind is turned into a tangled mess of frayed threads.

“You know that part in scary movies when somebody does something really stupid and everyone hates them for it? This is it.”

You’re spinning on your desk chair, the circles making your head swim, but maybe that was just your mind attempting to comprehend the weight of his statement.

“Okay, rude.”

You lift your head to see if he’s really offended by your deprecating comment, but he’s absorbed with his phone, slumped down in his bed, smirking at whatever was being displayed. He glances up, catching your gaze with a quirked eyebrow.

“What?”

“You’re a vampire. And my roommate.”

And someone you have feelings for, your subconscious whispers devilishly and you swat it away like a buzzing gnat.

“So?”

“I dunno.” You sigh, unable to stitch together your words comprehensible to yourself and him, afraid of piecing together a monstrous Frankenstein to loom over you both. Instead you let your head fall to your desk with a full thunk.

He seems to suspect your hidden truth, and sets his phone aside, sighing.

“Didn’t you know you aren’t supposed to invite vampires in? That’s on you, really.”

You don’t reply, so he shuffles over, tapping the top of your head. When you don’t respond, he tugs at your hair lightly, still garnering no reaction. So he places his hands on each side of your head, lifting so you’d finally face him.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go. Mingyu has a ton of spare bedrooms at his place I can crash at.”

But you don’t want him to leave, pulling yourself from his touch, and with a dismissive air, as if you didn’t care whether he left or not, you tell him it doesn’t matter, whichever was easier.

“But if you stay, can I ask questions?” You add on, and he laughs.

“Tomorrow. It’s movie night tonight and it’s my turn to choose.”

“So do you sparkle in the sunlight?”

“Please don’t tell me all your questions are from Twilight.” He groans.

You’re lying on your stomach on your bed, Jeonghan sitting cross legged, facing each other.

“It’s a valid question!”

“No, I don’t. I can also eat food, including garlic, though not too much, I can see myself in mirrors, and can go in the sun but get burnt real easily.” He assumes a bored demeanour as he rattles off what you assume to be frequently asked questions. “Process of evolving I guess you can call it.”

You purse your lips, pondering what else to ask. “When were you turned into one?”

“Nineteenth century or so? I travelled the world a lot though, I forget.” He muses, and it’s just a number to you, not settling in his many years of life.

“Who else besides Soonyoung?”

Jeonghan rattles off the names of his friends, some that were completely understandable and others that stunned your thoughts.

“Is it… hard to live for as long as you have?”

He seems startled at your question, and ponders it, turning it over in his mind like the clothes tossed in a washing machine’s rounds.

“Sometimes.” He admits. It’s difficult to amount the trials and effort of living for decades into words, sometimes feeling as if you were stranded in the sea, bobbing with your head barely above the water, gasping for breath. Others, like you were floating in a serene pool, the sun warming your bones. You move on.

“Can I... y’know... see your...” you stretch your lips back slightly to show your teeth tentatively, pointing. Jeonghan obliges, baring his teeth, fangs snapping out briefly and he grins at your fascinated expression.

“Are you gonna ask me how it feels to be bitten by them?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you snort.

“I’m not looking for a death wish.”

“I know you’re curious! Everyone always is.”

Nothing externally changed, settling back into your daily routine (with the exception of Jeonghan spending more nights at the dorm); yet there’s still some inward aspects you both had to deal with.

You detect something’s awry with his mood the minute you walk in, Jeonghan not even sparing you a small nod in greeting or acknowledgment. No matter how tired or upset he may be at times, it never affected his fond disposition towards you. Setting down your belongings on your mattress, you pipe up nervously.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He responds in a clipped tone, pausing before elaborating slightly. “Just hungry. Forgot to restock yesterday. Texted ‘Cheol. Said he’ll come as soon as he can.”

You’ve come to know that expressed hunger for Jeonghan didn’t apply to the human need, but rather the vampire need, and you fidget with your fingers.

“Will you be fine until then?”

He nods curtly, and you know it’s not personal, but the manner it’s delivered stings.

“If you want, you could… I could help.” You finish lamely, nervously.

He snarls, lip curling, and it rises the gooseflesh on your skin, your hands tightening over your phone as your heartbeat pounds out of your chest.

“I said— just drop it, okay?”

You stand there for a few moments, feeling rooted to the floor as he turns away sullenly, and you force yourself to trudge away quietly. When Seungcheol arrives, he pulls you outside after delivering the packets.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s just a little grumpy, the equivalence to being hangry.” Seungcheol smiles apologetically. “I hope he didn’t scare you or anything. Jeonghan’s actually pretty tame when he’s hungry, but I know you saw Soonyoung once and they’re quite different.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Seungcheol looks at you curiously.

“Does.... blood taste different depending on the person?”

“Yes and no. For instance, we can tell if someone’s smoked or drank alcohol, but in terms of different people having different tastes, it’s just a matter of blood type. Why?”

“Well, I offered to... y’know...” you tilt your neck, gesturing lightly, and he nods understandingly, a smile and twinkle in his eyes. “But he got really snappish with me, so I guess I thought maybe my blood was weird or something.”

“Did he really?” Seungcheol is unable to hold back his smile this time, and you furrow your eyebrows, so he explains further. “A lot of media nowadays take the vampire biting to a whole sexual level, and to a certain extent it can be true, depending on when you were turned, but for others, it’s common for feeding to be completely off limits to those we're interested in. As a matter of respect, you could say.”

“Are you saying that...”

“I’m not saying anything.” Seungcheol holds up his hands in an air of innocence. “But try asking him.”

You mull over the words as Seungcheol departs, and re-enter the room to meet gazes with Jeonghan, crimson liquid drifting up the straw from the plastic packet.

“I’m sorry I was rude. I know you were just trying to help.” He swallows, licking his lips, and you catch a flash of sharp ivory.

“It’s okay. Seungcheol actually told me something kinda interesting.”

“Like what?” He straightens, setting the blood aside carefully, and you make your decision.

“Nothing.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes, but doesn’t push, and you’re torn between feeling relieved and disappointed.

It’s not brought up again, verbally between anyone or within your thoughts, until Halloween rolls around. It’s almost ironic, you think, the most haunting night of the year opening the chapter that haunted you the past year.

“Are you coming to Mingyu’s party?”

“Wasn’t invited.” You shrug, and Jeonghan laughs.

“Like that stops most people. But if you really care, he said I could bring a plus one and I choose you.” He points at you playfully, as if choosing a Pokemon. “It's a masquerade. He’s always had a liking for those things, he used to throw them all the time back in the days.”

You don’t know how long ago he’s referring to, but you still attempt to picture Jeonghan and Mingyu elaborately dressed and adorned with delicate masks.

“So what do you say?” He leans forwards, as if your answer was an intimate secret, and you tell it to him, never having much luck in refusing Jeonghan.

He tells you he’ll meet you there, yet it’s an hour into the celebrations, and you’ve nursed a few drinks, danced with some strangers, and haven’t seen any sign of him. It’s apparently not uncharacteristic of your roommate, as you converse with the host, Kim Mingyu, so you don’t worry too much.

You’ve forgotten to track the passing hours by the time he arrives, lost in the lull of the rise and fall of voices and faces unknown.

“There you are.”

You almost don’t recognize him, gold spun locks turned to raven black, in addition to the mask resting upon his features.

“I couldn’t find you, so I had a few drinks with the guys.”

“You changed your hair.” It’s a childlike, wondrous instinct, the way your hand comes to curve into his hair, and he lets you.

There’s something addictive in the way you touch him, uncaring to the swaying bodies on the dance floor, the pulse of the music thrumming through your veins.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.” He pulls you away, searching for a relatively quiet place, but the bathroom is taken up by a poor soul retching into the toilet, the bedrooms locked (Mingyu having enough sense with that at least, Jeonghan thinks), so he finds a closet instead.

“Why are we here?”

He doesn’t respond at first, the closet shades slanting horizontal lights, framing his face dangerously, like the edge of a knife.

“I see the way you look at me. Like you love me. I’ve been around enough to see it.” Jeonghan doesn’t let you speak, yet you’re not sure what you’d say if he allowed you to. “You said the stupid part everyone would hate you for in a horror movie was letting me stay. I think so too. But I think my own part is falling in love with you back.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Vampires can't get drunk.” Jeonghan huffs, and you cross your arms disbelievingly. “Why is it that whenever I tell you something serious, you brush me off?”

“Because you don’t have to be so dramatic and make it sound like sarcasm!”

“Well, I’m not trying to!” He glares exasperatedly. You both stand in silence, until you pout.

“You didn’t have to say that liking me was stupid.”

“It is stupid.” Jeonghan snorts. “I’m a vampire. You’re a human.”

“So?”

Jeonghan pauses, sighing.

“I didn’t say I don’t like stupid things. I did confess to you after all.”

“Hey!”

He grins, stepping closer to grab your hands, slender fingers wrapping around your wrists before sliding down, perfectly fitting into your own. You tug him closer, and he propels himself snugly against you, chest to chest, breath fanning upon the shell of your ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t answer, nodding breathlessly, and he leans forwards, smiling against your lips.

Jeonghan takes out a box of mementos for you to rummage through a week later, spreading out the photographs, journal entries, and other knick knacks across your mattress you both sat cross legged upon.

He mainly does it for your amusement and interest, answering the spare question or comment you��d make offhandedly, browsing through his phone, but when you burst into giggles at a seemingly whim, he straightens up.

“What’s so funny?” Jeonghan peers over your shoulder, and you hold up the photograph gently towards him.

It’s not exactly comedic material, but something about the photo tickles your throat with laughter; Jeonghan dressed pristinely, a solemn, almost bored, expression upon his fine features, styled hair without one strand out of place.

“What’s wrong with that picture?” He jutted his bottom lip out accusingly.

“Nothing.” You assure with a gleam of a smile, and he rests his head on your shoulder after some inward deliberation at the truthfulness of your answer. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am I guess.”

He doesn’t move from his position, but you can tell he’s listening intently so you continue with a breathless laugh.

“You’ve lived for so long, and I get to be a part of it. Maybe I’m taking a page out of your dramatics, but I dunno. It’s nice to find something unexpectedly that I didn’t know I was looking for in you, even if it was kind of weird. I guess Seungcheol was right.”

“That was really sweet, and I thought we were going somewhere, until you said the last part.” Jeonghan furrows his eyebrows, looking at you confusedly, and you chuckle, telling him about the time Seungcheol dropped off blood for him last minute.

“Bastard.” Jeonghan mutters, and with your fit of laughter, it’s passed over, Jeonghan’s unsaid words lingering on his tongue.

He sets them free when you fall asleep on his lap, midway through parsing the box’s contents, and he cleans it up with his best to not disrupt your sleep, talking in a soft voice.

“Everybody’s looking for something. I’m glad we found that something in each other, in this lifetime. ” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you stir lightly, smiling gently.

“Me too.”

✞ taglist: @seijoh @soranihimawari @peachy-yabbay

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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masterhandss · 4 years

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Hamefura Idol AU! (part 2)

Here’s a completely unrelated Katarina idol art by @Sangotofura on twitter!

This is a continuation of my first post, the one that is more of an overview of the original FL game and the original descriptions of the characters. I don’t know if I want to write a story for this, since again this is just an excuse to draw, but I’m really having fun with expanding the alternate version of the world of hamefura.

It’s a lot of fun to rewrite hamefura’s story to fit in an idol setting, so I hope you guys don’t mind if I write a bit more for my dumb au dhjgfjs

More tidbits about the ‘Game’:

The game’s name, Fortune Lover: Cinderella Idol! or “Fortune Lover”, is read as “for-tune lover” by the fans (get it? tune?? pls laugh). The ‘F’ of the name is written as a fortissimo.

In the setting for Fortune Lover, the entertainment industry is the biggest industry of all time, with music being the most popular form. It has been like this for decades, and as time progressed, people’s tastes and expectations of music evolved, leading to the creation and popularity of idols.

Idol-Producers are a new project that is testing the capabilities of a idol teen, observing how their involvement in their own success can impact how they manage their time and how they can bring the absolute best out of themselves, on their own. Maria is the first idol who will be testing this new style. She is still a producer to herself, the boys, and even Sophia and Mary if you choose to have them join you. Despite being an idol, they still call Maria their “producer” and treats her like one.

The characters in the game are in 3D CG, as the game includes the dance choreography or “MV Mode” if you perfect the score of the rhythm game.

While Katarina’s bullying isn’t really death threatening, it’s more in line with the petty kind like verbal threats, sabotaging Maria’s idol clothes and stage equipment, paying someone to mess up her tracks during performances, badmouthing her infront of tv show producers and hosts, and stuff like that.

Katarina’s bullying isn’t as bad as it is in the original otome game, but she gets shunned by the public because behavior like that is only supposed to be done behind the curtains. The public has such a pure and honest perception of idols that they never think of the idea that the girls who smile and sing on stage actually try to stab each other in the back when the stage lights are off. Some people think that Katarina’s character is just a persona, so knowing that she is actually an ignorant and arrogant rich girl idol-wannabe, her fans lose respect for her. Katarina’s harassment of Maria is one of the few cases that are brought to light by the end of the game, and because of how much the public loves Maria by that point, they are enraged by Katarina’s behavior, making her lose support on all sides

Katarina had been in love with Gerald ever since they were children, and while Gerald has always been a popular boy among both his peers, when she found out Gerald was going to be an idol, she disliked the idea of sharing her beloved Gerald to a huge audience of people, so she became an idol to stand alongside him and to make herself worth of him by charming him as as an idol and gaining a large following herself. Despite this, Katarina didn’t strive too hard to be a talented idol, as she was too confident on herself due to the pampering of her parents.

Even if the player doesn’t desire to romance any of the four boys, given how the game is written and how it is programmed, the boy with the highest relationship points with Maria will confess to her by the end of the game. It would be impossible to not interact and gain points with the boys, as you gain relationship points in most areas of the games (when you “practice” your characters, when you “play” their songs, when you “give” them new clothes, when you “converse” with them in story mode, etc.). In the event that there are two characters with the exact same amount of points, the game will choose a boy for you.

Sorcier Pro.’s current president is Geoffrey Stuart (for reasons that will make sense someday)

Katarina-Gerald and Mary-Alan aren’t engaged in this au, but are constantly in each other’s presence due to most powerful bussinessmen and celebrities being good friends with each other.

Each girl has a specialty in a certain area: Katarina with dancing, Sophia with singing, Mary with acting/drama, and Maria (according to the official description of her in the box) with fashion coordination. Maria can be seen as more of a jack of all trades though, as she does represent the player.

While any of the boys can trigger the condemnation event that will lead to Katarina’s social suicide, the event is specifically associated with Keith and Gerald due to the severity of her presence and bullying if you have high relationship points with the two. With Alan and Nicole, Katarina’s event only happens for a few lines, but for Keith and Gerald, it takes place in complete detail, with it’s own animated cutscene.

Gerald’s route is also the most popular among the fans, with community surveys reporting that 53% of the game’s player base had Gerald as their final chosen love interest ( 25% with Keith, 12% with Nicol and 10% with Alan)

Monkey Girl/Past-Life Katarina

Since Maria’s name can’t be change in the game, but you can give her a “nickname” that represents the username of the player, Past-life Katarina’s name in the game is “SaruP” (or “Monkey producer” lol)

Saruchan (Monkey Girl) dies before she could finish her playthrough of the game, and all of her knowledge is based on her idol-expert best friend Acchan. She’s a bit tomboyish, and she loves to climb trees and move freely without a hint of poise or shyness, and is friendly to all genders. Her love for climbing, running, gardening with her grandma, and never ending amounts of energy gave her a pretty strong, flexible, agile and energetic body.

In Saruchan’s world, idols do exist, but aren’t portrayed in the cutesy and exaggerated manner that fiction does. Though it’s no surprise to know that in her world, almost every girl had dreamed to become an idol at one point, even herself. Acchan doesn’t find the idea interesting though, as she only lives for the idealized version of idols that exist in fiction. Acchan explains that girls their age are being brainwashed by the idealized version of idols that are presented in the media that they consume, and that they should wake up and learn to enjoy the fictional idols as they are. Despite Acchan’s realistic disapproval of idol fantasies, she does love playing idol rhythm games and gacha games, and spends her allowance on getting DLC costumes for Maria in FL. Acchan even pre-ordered tickets for herself and Saruchan for an idol concert featuring the VA of the characters, that they were supposed to attend to on the day that Saruchan dies.

She dies the game way: on her way to school and being killed by a truck that runs her over.

The last thing Saruchan sees before she loses consciousness forever is the wallpaper of the game’s boxart from her phone screen as it flies out of her hands.

My Next Life as an ‘Idol’?? All Routes Lead to Doom!!!

As usual, Katarina ends up remembering her future as an 8 year old kid, and plans to prepare for her future “banishment” and humiliation. She learns to farm in order to provide for herself once she gets shunned and retreats to the countryside, and (unknowingly) meets all the characters in the game and gains their good favor before the events of the game begins.

Her head bump still happens with Gerald, but their encounter happened in a party rather than an engagement meeting, with her tripping over a rock as she decides to run to the young man in order to introduce herself. Such introductions never got past beyond their names and few exchanges of dialogue, as the bump occurred and Katarina was immediately brought to the hospital after he called for help.

Being a girl who wanted to be an idol at one point, Katarina wanted to use this chance to fulfill her dream of becoming one! But knowing the fate that will await her, (public humiliation, isolation, and banishment to some degree) she tries to figure out ways to avoid ruining her future.

While not as bad as death, Katarina is aware that the ending of the game implies that the blemished opinion that everyone will gain of her will lead to her leading a miserable life; one that will prevent her from gaining new allies and even studying in peace without being made fun of or called out for. It might even ruin her marriage prospects, for all she knows (it doesn’t but she’s too stupid to know that). The stakes of the bad ending aren’t life threatening, but it is personal, as Katarina always dreamed of becoming an idol as a teen and doesn’t like the idea of being able to enjoy it for a few months only to be dragged down to hell right afterwards.

The Claes is a wealthy family known for her father’s knowledge and skills when it comes to trades and business, and for her mother’s beautiful opera singing voice and celebrity presence. As usual, Katarina’s father adopts Keith for the purpose of gaining a direct heir for the business, in fear that Katarina’s future significant other might just to interested in her to gain it.

Katarina’s plan is to learn how to farm in order to be able to support herself after her banishment, give Keith lots of love so he doesn’t end up becoming a playboy like in the game, and to train herself in dancing and singing in order to not embarrass herself like the original Katarina did. After meeting Gerald again and realizes his weakness, she eventually prepares (or buys, since the setting is modern) toy snakes that she can use to surprise him whenever the condemnation event occurs, using his shocked and panicked reaction as a way to distract the media from the claims that will surely fall upon her (since no one would have expected the calm and collected Gerald Stuart to scream like a girl at the sight of a toy snake, right? That would stay in the headlines for weeks! maybe).

As a kid, she has private singing tutors, and takes more general singing classes when she gets older. She doesn’t have dance training as a kid, but she does like to exercise and move her body around, so it slowly turned into the stamina-filled flexible body that she is used to.

Katarina and Keith - Their meeting and impressions are mostly the same, which the difference being that Katarina used a display axe above a fireplace to break down the door, and Keith got her injured by accidentally pushing her off a pretty high cliff in the Claes grounds while they were both running and playing chase (rather than being isolated for dangerous Earth Magic, Keith as a child was a clutz who attracted danger to everyone around him, making his older brothers make fun of him for being “cursed”).

Katarina showers him with love, making him affectionate towards his step sister, in the same as he was in the original material.

When Keith finds out about Katarina’s desire to train to become an idol, he is very supportive of her, and decides to train with her in order to be able to stand by his sister on stage (as well as to generally gain the same interests as her in order to guarantee that they will stay close as they age). The contrast being that instead of becoming an idol to gain the adoration of millions of nameless faces, he now wants to become an idol to gain the love and attention of a single person, which is Katarina uwu.

Katarina and Gerald - Gerald eventually attempts to visit Katarina to apologize for the incident, expecting her to blame him for what happened, given the personality she showed him. He was shocked to find a scar on her forehead, farming while wearing a farmer’s attire despite coming from a wealthy and esteemed family, singing and dancing to a song as she waters her vegetables. He watches for only a minute, unable to look away from the girl who danced like deflating balloon and sang off key while almost drowning her small vegetable in water. She looked weird, but she was having the time of her life, and he could see and hear it from where he stood.

In a daze, thinking he might have entered the wrong house by accident or walked on the daughter of a maid doing chores. He walks out and leave the Claes estate without a word, and visits again after only a few days, as he couldn’t get his mind off of the oddity that he had witnessed.

He eventually realizes that it was Katarina on his second visit, as he finds the scar of the odd farmer girl on the same girl who boasted about her family’s wealth in the party. After giving formal introductions, Gerald offers to walk around the garden to get to know each other better, in order to continue the conversation that she had originally forced on him back in the party (it was done to be polite and respectful, rather than any interest to continue). In the garden, they pass by the area that Katarina had planned to turn into her farm, and Gerald was in awe at how unorganized and messy everything looked (there was dirt everywhere, the tools were left on the floor because she had to prepare to meet him, there was more bags of manure than what was even needed etc! Katarina internally cursed at her 8 year old delicate rich girl body for not having the same arm strength as her 17 year old self). It was then that it sunk in that the adorable singing and dancing farming girl that he accidentally saw really was Katarina Claes. She wasn’t the very definition of abnormal, but she was nothing like the daughters of his father’s friends that cried when not attended to or complained when not given the best dresses and shoes. There was no shred of worry about her family’s expectations in her eyes, nor expectations of him to act like his perfect and matured self whenever they met in parties, movie premiers or social events, which made him yearn for her company.

After finding out about Katarina’s desire to become an idol one day, Gerald secretly planned to do the same (and even have her recruited in his brother’s agency) in order to become closer to her through her love of entertainment and to have a chance to be constantly in her presence. When he found out about the charms that male idols have on their female fans, he also plans on using this as an opportunity to gain both her attention and romantic affection, by perfecting his (already maxed out) charms as male idol.

Katarina and Mary - The two met during a part hosted by Mary’s mother in the Hunt Estate, inviting all of her mother’s old opera acquaintances, sponsors and co-workers for a formal reunion. Katarina and Keith accompanied their parents to the party, leading them to be introduced to the Hunt Family’s daughters. As usual, Katarina had the urge to “release the chocolate shark” during the party and takes an elegant leave. She eventually gets lost in the estate and finds herself in the garden. Katarina was in awe of the garden’s beauty, and stood still as she watched what seemed like beautiful siren sing by herself near a majestic fountain, with a single rose in hand.

Mary was surprised to hear an aggressive applause after singing to herself. Katarina aggressively complimented Mary for her adorable yet elegant voice, and asked who she was seeing as a singing trainer. When Mary replied that she was not having any singing or vocal training, Katarina rains even more compliments down, claiming that “her voice was that of an angel!”. Mary denied it, so Katarina proceeded to sing the same song that she had sang, as a point of comparison to make her feel more confident in herself. Mary shyly and unexpectedly joins her, and they ended up having a small and quiet duet in the garden. Katarina’s voice sounded a bit rough and squeak-ish, but alongside Mary’s elegant and controlled singing, they didn’t sound bad at all.

When Katarina finds out that Mary is also the one who tends to the flower garden, she proceeds to shower Mary with even more compliments, and asks her to visit and help with her own farm garden. Being complimented for having a beautiful voice and a green thumb made her feel validated and appreciated, so she often visits the Claes household in order to be in constant presence of her first and dearest friend. The rest is the same.

When Mary found out about Katarina’s dream of becoming an idol, she started taking intense vocal training as well as various exercises in order to be able to join her in her endeavor. She slowly built a more brazen and tough personality in order to be able to join and protect her friend from the rumored cold and intense reality of the idol world, as well as due to the antics of her friends.

Katarina and Alan - From Mary, she eventually finds out that the event where Mary duets and falls in love with Alan occurred. Katarina realizes that duet must not have been that effective because she has done the same with Mary, but is confident that Mary is in love with him because Alan is a very talented and handsome individual. A few days later, the fourth Stuart son bursts into the doors of the Claes household, and demands to meet with Katarina. She learns that Alan had developed a small crush on Mary, and that he wants to challenge Katarina for her hand. Same shenanigans ensues, leading up to the piano duel where his talents in the piano was in full display to everyone in the manor.

Katarina knew how to play the piano (just the basics though), so she was in awe listening to someone who almost sounded like a pro! Alan runs off after Gerald compliments him, Katarina chases after him, and they got to talk behind a bush. Alan wouldn’t take her compliments, but Katarina aggressively insisted that his talents are nothing to scoff at.

When Alan says that he’s sure that his brother can play just as good, if not better than him, Katarina speculates that it wasn’t the case, because everyone had things that they are good and bad at. Not everyone is the same, no one learns at the same pace, and that she’s sure even if Gerald can play the piano better than him (and she doubts he can in the first place), no one can play the piano like Alan can. The scores in his heart are his alone, and that nothing is more beautiful than the melody that the heart enacts. Katarina knew that the score he played wasn’t an existing one, and knowing Alan’s character from the game, it’s probably either an impromptu score or one he had composed by himself. Her guess was correct, leading Alan to be caught off guard by her compliment, almost feeling emotional as no one had ever guessed and believed that the music he played was his own, until Katarina did.

She shows off the power of the toy snake to Alan, making him laugh and see his brother in a different light. He still constantly visited Katarina for their duels, but as time progressed, he lost the affection for Mary (as he saw her as a little sister now after interacting with her in the Claes Household) that made him want to challenge Katarina. They still followed up on those challenges, for fun rather than for sport.

When he finds out about Katarina’s dream to become an idol, he is determined to join her in order to be able to compose songs and melodies that she can sing, intending to bring out the absolute best of his muse’s voice with his own music. Someone his age might not be fit to compose songs for an idol, so he intends to become one as well in order to gain a reputation as a competent composer.

Katarina and Sophia - The two meets at an afternoon party hosted by the Stuarts, as a celebration for the birthday of the twins. Katarina had to “powder her noes” after a few trips to the buffet table, and leaves Keith and Mary. She’s chased down by a dog, climbs up a tree, and accidentally watches a group of kids and older bully a small girl who sounded like she was about to cry. The same events occur, up to their second encounter in the party. Katarina accidentally quotes a line from a novel that she was reading, and after realizing that Sophia understood her reference, she asked for them to meet again in order to discuss their similar interests.

Everything is pretty much the same, the difference being that somehow idols were brought as a topic of conversation, with Sophia revealing that she is actually a huge fan of idols. Katarina, feeling reminiscent of her idol-expert best friend Acchan, tells her that she actually wants to be an idol herself and insists that Sophia tell her about everything she loves about idols. Sophia, who is surprised to also find another idol fan who is as young as her, becomes even more excited and tells her all about her love for idols: how they are able to wear such adorable outfits onstage, how they sing songs that carry so much meaning, how they carry their fan’s dreams with them when they dance and sing, how amazing it is to be able to juggle so many occupations at once, and much more.

With both love of novels and idols, Sophia constantly finds herself in the Claes Household in order to talk to Katarina about books, idols, song recommendations etc.

When Sophia was first told that Katarina wanted to be an idol, she was very supportive of her and announced herself as Katarina’s number one fan. As time passed, she realized she wasn’t just satisfied with just watching Katarina from afar, she wanted to sing and dance alongside her! She wants to use her knowledge of romance novels and idols to help make herself and Katarina the best idols to ever exist! She wants to sing on stage about her feelings: about how much she loves Katarina, idols and their beloved novels!

Katarina and Nicol - When he found out that someone had invited his little sister to a small book club, he was very wary, thinking that she was one of the many other girls who tried to use Sophia in order to become closer with him. He was shocked to realize that that was not the case, and that Katarina had barely seen him at all, and had opened his timid little sister’s heart. When Sophia asked Katarina if she found her appearance creepy, Nicol proceeds to explain further, expecting to see a hint of guilt or displeasure from Katarina Claes, only for both of them to be met with unyielding determination to have Sophia as a close friend. Sophia went home that day in tears, thankful to have found a friend who truly wanted to stick by her side.

The Claes siblings often visits their home so the girls can have their book club, even bringing Mary Hunt with them occasionally. Katarina, while looking a bit flustered, is capable of having a conversation with him without averting her eyes, which was a breath of fresh air to the countless camera crew, staff, visitors and even strangers who couldn’t look him in the eyes because how of how much of a beautiful child model he was. It all leads up to the moment where Katarina compliments him with how blessed he is to have such a beautiful and wonderful family, which contrasted against the ignorant adults who pitied him for having parents who refused to abuse the potential of his beautiful face and for not being as beautiful as their son, as well as for having a freakish looking sister.

Nicol, just like his sister, desired to constantly be in Katarina’s positive presence, and visited her often, leading them to be acquainted and friends with the entire group that Katarina enraptured.

When he found about his sister’s and Katarina’s desire to become idols, Nicol thought of doing the same, in order to be able to continue to watch over and protect both Sophia and Katarina, as well to be able to continue being close with Katarina (as their lack of similar interests and age gap might lead her away from him, but tbh that is never gonna be a problem with Katarina). He also plans to use his influence as a child model to propel Sophia and Katarina’s careers, as a way of supporting his two favorite girls.

Notes

I’m not sure how I feel about Gerald’s backstory, I might rewrite that if anyone kindly wants to critique it.

Instead of Mary’s green thumb, it’s her voice that leads her to Katarina and Alan, but I still think Sophia would still have a better singing voice than her, so both her voice and green thumbs both play a part in her character. Mary’s high pitched voice gets a bit deeper as she ages, while Sophia’s voice stays very high.

I really like the idea that rather than the original ambitions and goals that leads the harem to become idols in Fortune Lover, now it’s the effect of Katarina’s constant insistence and declarations of becoming an idol that leads to everyone doing the same. In this timeline, the harem probably wouldn’t have thought of (or planned early) becoming an idol if Katarina never brought it up.

I’m writing this at midnight again, lol, but yeah I’m not planning on writing a fanfiction for this, I guess, but I do want to have an established plot so rather than chapters, I’m just writing a full overview for fun haha

When I mentioned that Sophia loved idols, I didn’t realize that I might have accidentally implied that she was just as an idol fan as Acchan was, but with actual idols this time, so I went with :DD

I’ll touch up on Idol Katarina, Anne, Maria, Sirius/Raphael and Fortune Lover 2 in the next one.

I’m really happy that there are people who actually read my previous post and said that they liked it! Feedback and suggestions are appreciated! I still need a final name for the units so help me pls hahaha.

I’ll rewrite this post when I feel like adding/changing stuff.

137 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 1

Prologue

Obiyuki AU Bingo Medical Drama AU

Here it is guys, the modern AU version of Seven Suitors for Shirayuki that you all asked for and I thought I would never really write. Obviously the chapters for this will not be 1:1 with parallel content-- I think we ALL would like to avoid another Chapter 6-- but here at least is the beginning of what I’m sure will be a stupidly long journey.

Plink. Plink. Plink plink plink--

“You know.” Shirayuki sets her hands flat against the keyboard, the surest way to keep them from becoming fists. “I really don’t think the janitorial staff will appreciate having to get those down.”

Obi turns wide eyes on her, striving for an air of innocence she doubts he’s possessed since long before his voice dropped. “What do you men, Miss?”

He twirls a pen between his long fingers-- cheap ones, little blue Bics that hardly scratch out a solid line since the hospital cut down on frivolous spending-- and flicks his wrist. It flies unerringly upward, lodging itself firmly in the particleboard of the ceiling.

At least it won’t be lonely with all its friends to keep it company. “They can’t just leave those up there, Obi. It’s probably a fire hazard.”

At least, she thinks so. Considering how EHS feels about anything being on the floor besides furniture and feet, she can only imagine they have strong opinions on ceilings too.

Obi scoffs, languidly kicking his legs over the arm of his chair. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but with his long limbs and cunningly tailored suit, Obi just looks dangerous, like a panther behind glass.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Another projectile unerringly hits its mark. “They’ll come down on their own.”

Her mouth flirts heavily with a frown. “So I can look forward to a pile of pens on my floor next Monday?”

“Nah.” Teeth flash between his lips. “It’ll be all cleaned up before you get here.”

Shirayuki stifles a sigh, turning her attention back to her notes. Exasperation only encourages him. “I’ll be done soon. If you want you can wait in the hall--”

“Miss.” He presses a hand to his chest, affronted. “Would I ever leave your side? What if something happened to you while there was this one, flimsy door between us? What would Master--”

“Don’t let Zen catch you calling him that.”

“--even do to me if some terrible fate befell you while I turned away for just one moment?” He blinks, far too innocent to be earnest. “You wound me, Miss.”

She lets out a huff, flyaways fanning out around her face. “Considering how many bags of Funyuns you’ve fished out of the vending machine the past year, I think it’s safe to say that nothing will happen to me if you choose to harass Higata down at the nurse’s station instead of me.”

His smile sits stiffly on his lips, pen stilling between his fingers. “It did happen, once.”

Her heart gives a single, loud pound in her chest. “Obi--”

“Anyway.” His smile slides into a smirk, sitting more comfortably on his face. “We’re back on days after this, aren’t we?”

Her fingers roll back into their rhythm, keys tacking pleasantly beneath them. “For a little while at least. Why, do you have exciting plans?”

“Miss.” His expression wilts like a plant left in the maintenance closet. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

She blinks. The answer is simple: lounge around in her scrubs-turned-lounge wear and catch up on The Great British Baking Show while eating a staggering amount of Thai food. But he should know that; it’s what she does every weekend after she’s been on nights, and he’s usually right there beside her, making inappropriate comments about Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes and speculating if he comes by the last name honestly or whether he had a stint in the adult film industry.

(”It’s the future, you know.” She waggles his smart phone; hers is still in her bedroom. As nice a gesture as it was from Zen, she’s never quite gotten used to keeping it on her. “We could just google it.”

“No.” He turns to her, affronted. “I appreciate the thought, Miss, but there are some things you don’t google.”

She arches a brow, tucking her feet under his butt on the cushion. He lets out a put-upon grunt, but allows it. “You just don’t want to find out it’s some old, perfectly respectable English last name.”

“It’s not that,” he snips as Netflix rolls through to the next episode, promising nun-shaped pastries. “Knowing things ruins the mystique.”)

“I mean,” he sighs, “are you going out with the boss?”

“Oh!” She stares, helpless. “I don’t...know? He hasn’t said anything to me.” She gives the keyboard a few cursory pecks before asking, “Has he said anything to you?”

His expression only falls flatter. “Has he said anything to me about your theoretical romantic plans?”

Her cheeks prickle, the sure sign that a blush is starting to dawn. “Well, you usually know before me!”

“I...wish I could say that isn’t true,” he sighs, rolling until he’s sitting properly in his seat-- or at least, as properly as Obi ever does, slouched so low that his chin is level with the ankle crossed over his knee. “But it is. And no, I haven’t...heard of any plans.”

“There you have it.” She waves a hand and turns back to her work. “No plans. Just us, some Thai, and a bunch of decorative but delicious meat pies.”

“And Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes,” he says with more relish than anyone should. “But you’re all right with that?”

“What? Of course.” She shrugs, clicking down to the last field. “He’ll call if he has time. And if not, there’s always next week.”

Obi arches an undeservedly dubious brow, in her opinion. “Next week?”

“Sure.” She barely pauses as she says, “Zen’s a busy man. And I’m a busy lady! I don’t need to see him every weekend. Or every week!”

“Right,” he huffs, “but you, you know, presumably would want to see him more than you did when we lived three thousand miles away.”

“Obi.” Shirayuki shoots him a warning look. “We see each other plenty, and certainly more than every six months--”

“Ten months.”

“Fine, ten months.” She shrugs, gazing fixing back onto her screen. “Still. We saw each other just last week.”

He blinks. “Last week?”

“Yes, last Saturday.” She tilts her chin up, chuffed she’s remembered it. “We went to the Getty Center to see the Monet exhibit.”

“Miss.” His mouth twitches. “That was three weeks ago, and you were bored out of your mind.”

Her jaw drops. “I-- I was not!”

“You kept calling him Manet, blamed it on your Portland ‘accent’--” Obi does some vigorous finger quotes she does not appreciate-- “when the curator corrected you, excused yourself halfway through and then speculated whether drowning was a peaceful death while we stared out at the Pacific.”

Her lips pull thin, and she pointedly shifts her attention back to the screen. “I need to finish this.”

Obi raises his brows, rucking up the silvery slash above his eye. “You were bored.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of art, no.” Her fingers hesitate above the keys. “Three weeks?”

He nods. “Three weeks.”

She grimaces. “All right, let me just get the notes for this discharge written up for Garrack, and we can head out.”

“Oh, the discharge?” Obi’s looking far too pleased with himself. “You mean the ultrasound girl?”

“Yes?” His sudden interest is unnerving, to say the least. “Third trimester pregnancy, lots of blood and cramping, thought she was losing the baby, ended up just having a ruptured luteal cyst.” She stares at him, brows drawing down in confusion. “Did Ryuu tell you about it?”

“Mm-hm.” If it was possible to look like those little mischievous kitty emojis he sends her, he’d be doing it now. “And that you held her hand through the whole sonogram dealie.”

“Well, yes. No one was with her.” The girl had been so pale she nearly matched the sheets. “I wasn’t going to let her find out she had a stillbirth by herself. That’s just cruel.”

His eyes melt from gold to amber. “Of course you wouldn’t, Miss.” In a breath that softness is gone, replaced by his Cheshire Cat grin. “But are you sure that’s all?”

“W-what else would it be?”

“Ryuu said you were very interested in that baby on the screen.”

“I’m an obstetrician, Obi--”

“No need to deny it, Miss,” he assures her. “I understand completely. After all, some of that may be in the cards for you, soon.”

Shirayuki stares at him. “A luteal cyst?”

Obi heaves a sigh. “No, Miss! Maybe you have--” he waggles his narrow brows-- “baby fever.”

“What?”

“It’s only to be expected, after all,” he says with a shrug, as if this were a done deal. “You and Master have been together for six years.”

Shirayuki nearly balks, nearly suggests that he takes a walk down to the pediatrics ward and ask to check out their number line--

Until she does some mental math of her own. It has been six years. “But I-- but we-- we haven’t--”

Obi’s brows lift in a terrible cross between amusement and curiosity. “You have talked about this, haven’t you?”

They most definitely have not, which didn’t seem like an oversight until just this moment, and now--

“Shirayuki.”

She jumps, eyes darting to the door. “Dr Gazalt! I didn’t-- I didn’t expect you.”

Garrack blinks, brows raising. “Yes, me. The one who is waiting for your shift notes. Higata tells me there’s a discharge I have to sign for?”

“Oh, yes. I--” she glances at the empty notes field-- “I’ll get that done right away. I was just, ah, finishing up now.”

“Hm,” Garrack grunts, gaze shifting to where Obi is contorted in his chair. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping you.”

“Why, Chief,” he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t possibly think I was being anything but the most helpful for Doctor--”

“Oh, I know what you were being.” There’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and a spark in her eye as she reveals, “A nuisance.”

“Chief.”

“I’ll be done in a minute!” Shirayuki interjects, too shrill. Both of them turn to her, brows raised mildly, and she adds, “Just, ah, give me some quiet.”

“You heard the lady, big boy.” Garrack grins. “Looks like you’ll be shadowing me.”

Obi’s expression rings with alarm. “Oh, I think I’m supposed to--”

“Oh no, you’re not escaping this time.” She reaches in, getting a good grip on his tie, and tugs. “I got some heavy things that need to be lifted.”

save me pls Miss

I’m almost done

Miss she wants me to help rearrange the stock room PLS hurry

Five minutes

im wasting away i can feel the life leaving my body

We’ll get breakfast This will go faster if you stop interrupting me

the angels are calling me home theres a light at the end of the tunnel Miss

Walk towards it This is probably your only chance at heaven

M I S S

It’s no use, Obi. I may be an optimist, but I’ve seen your search history

Touche

It’s not until she’s in the elevator that it hits her: she’s forgotten something.

Her brain is, as usual, coy with the rest of the information. Did she forget something important on her report? Did she leave her keys back on her desk? Does she have some appointment this evening that will keep her from getting confused every time someone says biscuit in the tent?

Nothing comes to mind, the answer hanging frustratingly out of reach. She’d have better luck trying to get Obi to talk about his past than she will trying to brute force this memory.

Shirayuki sighs. Time to check everything.

She’s wearing clothes-- check. They’re not her scrubs-- also check. Shoes match-- double check.

Her hand sweeps into her purse. Keys-- ouch, yep, check. Wallet-- check. Phone--

Buzzes hard against her palm.

Shirayuki blinks. It’s quick, only lasting a beat before it stops. Just a text, but-- it’s eight in the morning. Even with all her early-rising, day-shift doctor friends, this is well before their first morning coffee has kicked in. This is--

Weird. Worryingly weird. She drags the phone out of her bag, waking the screen to be greeted with 12 MISSED CALLS.

Shirayuki stares. That can’t be right. She’s kept her phone on her all shift, only tossing it into her bag when she’d stopped by her office to log her notes. There’s no way she’s had that many calls in an hour. And texts--

Well, that number is staggering. Her screen shows only the last one, a very cheerful, ill kill him and hide the body so well hell get famous as cold case from Yuzuri. She grimaces. Whatever Suzu’s done now, he’ll spend the whole day regretting it.

Well, that’s not exactly fair. It could be Kazaha, or even Shidan if he’d made her work down in the pharmacy hard enough. But...

It’s definitely Suzu.

She traces the appropriate squiggle onto her phone to open it and her homescreen unfurls before her. Her thumb hovers right above the little speech bubble--

A bright ding lets her know she’s arrived at ground level, and the entirely unamused bodyguard leaning against the doors lets her know that she’s late.

“Well,” she says, tipping the phone back into her bag. “You’re looking...hale?”

“I was promised breakfast,” he reminds her in a pleasant, if displeased rumble. “This is a thing that is happening.”

She makes sure to infuse some extra bounce into her step as she exits the elevator, earning a weary scowl. “Doctor Gazalt must have worked you hard.”

“Doctor Gazalt has some definite opinions about how her office should be arranged.” He raises a hand, rubbing pointedly at his neck. “What do they make the furniture out of here? Bricks?”

“Concrete, probably,” she agrees. “Pancho’s?”

He nods. “Spicy sauce. Extra spicy sauce. I’ll get the car.”

She grins. “Sounds like a deal. Meet me out font in ten?”

He lets out a huff. “I’ll meet you out front whenever I manage to lug my broken body across the parking garage and into the driver’s seat.”

“You poor baby,” she deadpans, patting his arm.

“I’ve suffered,” he tells her, affronted. “And don’t forget! Extra Spicy!”

The hospital is a cool cocoon, it’s temperature scrupulously maintained for the benefit of the labs and supplies inside, and so when Shirayuki emerges into the bright, May morning--

The heat hits her like a wall.

The air is oppressive; with each step it weighs her down, like a body laying across her back, and oh, she cannot wait until Obi gets here with the towncar, because there is no way she can last more than ten minutes without air conditioning.

Shirayuki has to laugh at that as she trudges down the granite stairs. She, who had spent her summers in a stuffy attic of an old Victorian house with only a single circular window to allow air in, happily devouring book after book as she laid on her bed with little more than underwear on, to whom air conditioning was a ridiculous luxury--

And now she can’t live without it. Probably couldn’t bear to sleep in a tiny twin bed either, with a mattress last changed out when she stopped wetting the bed. Not now that she’s experienced queen size and memory foam. Zen’s truly made sure she can never go home again.

Not that it was an option, anyway.

She oozes onto the pavement, taking a moment to really feel how sweaty twenty steps and thirty seconds can make her, and turns, goal blessedly in sight. Pancho’s lime green paint glistens in the morning sun, and the smell of meat cooking on the griddle inspires her to make the last three yard push. Well, that and she’s absolutely sure that Obi won’t let her in the car empty handed, not after he had to move Garrack’s desk.

“Good morning!” Shirayuki manages. “Two breakfast burritos. One...al pastor...extra spicy. The other...veggie? Mild.”

The vendor peers down from the counter-- it’s the dark-haired one, Shiira. Good. He won’t scream if she passes out in front of him. “Doing okay there, ma’am?”

“Never better,” she assures him, knuckles white where she grips the metal. It’s the only thing keeping her upright “I love heat. So much.”

His mouth curves into a faint smile, ringing up her order. “Boston thinned your blood, did it?”

“I’ll get used to it.” It’s been a year, sure, but it will happen at some point. It has to. “I did it before.”

He barks out a laugh, mouth opening to say more until his gaze catches over her shoulder. “Oh, can I take your order, sir?”

Shirayuki steps off to the side, her shoulder bumping hard into the magazine rack hanging off the window. It wibbles hard, metal banging against metal as it vibrates against the side of the truck. She catches it with a grimace, stilling it before it can make more of a racket, and glimpses the name WISTERIA on the front page. Her hand hovers, ready to grab it--

And catches the National Enquirer above it. Her hand jerks back like it’s been scalded. She doesn’t need to see any of that, thank you. Probably just more articles about Izana’s philandering ways.

She huffs out a laugh. Anyone who wrote about his wife crying in bed, unable to stand from grief has clearly never met her. Yuzuri’s probably read it already, with bullet points ready to bitch about, and--

Oh! Yuzuri. She digs into her bag, fishing out her phone. 12 MISSED CALLS sits bright on her welcome screen, nagging at her. As much as she wants to know just what ridiculous scheme has gotten Suzu in trouble now, she can always catch up later.

With a flick of her thumb she summons her call screen, and there it is, twelve calls missed, and all of them--

All of them are from Yuzuri.

Her heart pounds loud in her ears, the sound of the street around her muted. The screen won’t stay still, making words blur as if she’s trying to read in a dream, as if any moment they’ll drip off the page.

But it’s no dream. She’s had twelve calls from Yuzuri in the past hour, and her hands are trembling.

Something must have happened. Suzu’s hurt, or Kirito’s sick, or-- or--

What had her text said? She swipes a thumb, ready to find out, but--

Her phone buzzes, right in her hand. Shirayuki stares at it, dumb. She must have forgotten to turn on the ringer.

YUZURI it reads, and her heart skips a beat.

“Is everything okay?” she breathes the moment the call connects, one hand clenched in her collar.

“No, nothing is okay,” Yuzuri snaps, voice crackling in that way that means both danger and most probably homicide. “I will fly out there and help you hide the body. There are lye pits everywhere, Yuki.”

She blinks, head jerking back from the whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“Or I’ll do the job myself, if you want,” she continues, undaunted. “I’m sure a rich kid like him has a lot of enemies. We’ll never get caught.”

“Yuzuri.” She shakes her head. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Wha--? Zen!” she says, exasperated. “You mean he hasn’t even told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh my god,” Yuzuri breathes. “I can’t-- you haven’t even seen the news?”

“I was on nights.” She turns to the rack behind her, riffling through the magazines. “I didn’t really have time to-- oh. Oh my.”

WISTERIA WEDDING BELLS TO RING AGAIN! the tabloid boasts, showing Zen right on the front, his hair tousled as he steps down from the private jet. She’d laugh it off, just like she always does-- she’d lost count of the number of times they reported his engagement to Kiki before she got married, and Obi made a habit of buying anything that reported them having an affair so he could snapchat it to Kiki at his leisure-- but this-- this--

(”Is everything all right?” She picks her head up from his shoulder, but beneath her palm she can still feel his heart racing. The movie keeps playing on the screen, something fraught and in French, and when he stares down at her, she can see the white all around his eyes, shining in the dark.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” His arm wraps tighter around her, and he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She’s never realized how much he looks like Izana until now.

She raises a brow. “You seem tense.”

“Ah.” he shifts beneath her, gaze flicking back to the TV. “Yeah, I just-- have a project I have to finish up next week. Just...starting to really feel the deadline. You know how it is.”

A line carves a chasm between his eyebrows, worn by the inexorabe waters of worry. There’s never much she can do for him, the man who wears the weight of the world on his back, but-- but she can do this, sitting back on her knees, fiddling with the watch around her wrist.

“Here,” she says, pulling it tight around his.

He stares down at it, confused, and she smiles. There’s something perversely gratifying to giving a man who has everything something so second-hand it still has the heat from her body. “What--?”

“My lucky watch.”

He tilts his eyes up to watch her, so blue in the dim. “Is this the one I gave to you?”

“After I broke yours?” She nods, smile tilting ruefully. “And now I’m lending this to you. Bring it back safe.”

His fingers brush it, almost reverent. Zen may not let her bear any of his burden, but she can make it feel lighter, even if only for a while. “I...will.”)

Her watch gleams from beneath the cuff of his blazer, visible as he holds out an arm to help a pair of shapely legs behind him. The cover creases in her hands, cracking under her grip, and--

“Are you going to buy that too?” Shiira asks, somehow both pointed and concerned.

Shirayuki shakes herself. The tabloids are always quick to speculate, slapping fiancée over any woman he shared air with for more than a minute. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

And it wouldn’t, not if she hadn’t already thought--

“Shirayuki?” Yuzuri prompts, alarm ringing through every syllable. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she doesn’t know whether or it’s true. “I just have to-- I’ll have to call you back.”

She hangs up with Yuzuri mid-breath, doubtlessly gearing up to give her an earful of opinions. It’s rude, yes, but she can hardly think past the next name on her list, scrolling until ZEN WISTERIA lights up on the screen.

It’s a mistake, it has to be. It’s just some picture, out of context, slapped right onto the page like it means something.

Two foil-wrapped packages slide toward her. “That will be seven forty--”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at--

“This too,” she says, slapping the rag on the counter.

Shiira stares at her, wide-eyed.

She coughs, arranging it with slightly more care. “And, um, a horchata. Please.”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at the tone.

Shirayuki shifts her load to the crook of her elbow, nibbling at a cuticle. “Hi. It’s, um, me again. I just got off shift, and I--” she takes a long, hard breath, and switches tack-- “just call me. Whenever you can. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

A black sedan slips up to the curb, the passenger side door stopping right at her toes. The window scrolls down with a soft hum, and Obi stretches across the seat, his mouth rucking up in a smirk. “Come on, Miss, we don’t have all--”

His whole body stiffens, the warm amber of his eyes fixed to her face. “Miss,” he breathes, lips hardly moving, knuckles white where he grips the console. “Miss, what’s wrong. Are you--?”

She shoves the magazine through the window, crumpling it into his hands. “Miss, what--?”

He stares. Obi might not recognize the watch-- might not even know she had given it away-- but oh, he can recognize the ring.

“That’s Mrs Wisteria’s--”

“Yes.” She can’t even bear to hear it spoke. “Yeah.”

His brow furrows. “There has to be some explanation. You know how these rags like to come up with--”

“He won’t pick up.” Her voice cracks, but she can’t-- she can’t do this here, right on the sidewalk. Not in front of her hospital. His hospital. “Or Mitsuhide. Or Kiki. I don’t...”

Know what to believe. her lips catch the words before they slip out. If she doesn’t say it, it can’t be true, it can’t be real, this can’t be happening.

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi tells her, but his voice wavers, and his hands clench tight on her seat. “Just get in and we’ll--”

Her phone cuts him off. She jumps to answer it, glancing down at the screen to see--

Oh. Oh no.

IZANA WISTERIA, it reads.

“Oh,” Obi breathes. “Shit.”

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #medical drama au #seven suitors #seven swipes #I'd been hoping to at least get to yuuta this chapter #but turns out a modern au takes SET UP guys #but hopefully I'll get to post more soonish #like obiyukiweek soonish #and we can really kick off this adaptation

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

C’mon, lick it // part two

Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs modern au

I DID IT, @tyherondaletrash FUCK YOU BITCH THIS IS FOR YOU CAUSE YOU DIDN’T LET ME LIVE THROUGH IT AND YOU’RE GONNA CRY THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR EYES

Everyone else, enjoy it!:)

Word count: 6,146

“I can’t believe those two are becoming old dudes.” Matthew sighed taped to Christopher’s side. They were in front of the entrance of James and Cordelia’s building ready to go and buy the noodles that the blond craved so much, but they had been there for more than five minutes and Thomas was beginning to suspect that soon they would all be going home.

“Leave them alone Math, they are not old.” Christopher replied yawning.

Thomas chuckled when he saw Matthew’s cautionary look, but he felt his eyelids heavy as well and in three seconds his mouth also opened wide and made a noisy sound.

“They just have a job that starts very early, unlike ours.” Lucie defended her brother and her best friend by trying to make it clear to Matthew that ordinary people with office jobs had to wake up at six, unlike people who worked in bars, like her and Math, who could go to sleep at the time the others were getting ready .

“About jobs that start very early.” Thomas intervened by smiling displeased, putting an arm around Alastair’s shoulders, who was rubbing his hands trying to warm up a bit. He found it ridiculous how his boyfriend so stubbornly refused to buy a pair of gloves.

“No. You’re not going anywhere.” Matthew snorted laughing, “And while I have not yet fully accepted your dyed blond there…” he continued nodding to Alastair with his chin, ‘It was just a phase.’ defended the guy, interrupting Math “…I would not want to stay alone with Mr. In Love and Miss. I Still Sleep With My Puppet. I could use real men.”

“The hell Math! It was supposed to be a secret!” Lucie whined, dodging Christopher who tried to stop her and hitting the boy on the shoulder. He snorted again, pushing her back to her place place. The Lightwood between them was holding back a laugh at the ease with which his friend had moved his cousin.

“Shut up, Lulu, everyone knows you’re still a child.” Matthew smirked, calling her with the nickname he knew only her father could use, looking in front of him and waiting for her to answer in kind.

“I’m sorry, but I also have to go in an hour early tomorrow and your mother might kill me if I’m late.” Alastair apologized by speaking quickly so that the bickering didn’t drag on, trying to look really sorry and not show how excited he was to finally go home.

“I’m too tired for a noodles party. Forgive me.” Thomas tried to save his boyfriend by directing Math’s anger toward him, and so it was, because it was as if Alastair hadn’t even spoken when Matthew turned to Thomas and was as disgusted as he had been before when he looked at James said, “No fuck you, I’ll never forgive you, asshole.”

“God, what am I gonna do now?” Thomas cried out in a desperate tone, Lucie slightly jumped at the sound, smiling broadly, “I will never recover from this terrible insult.” Lucie burst into laughter and when Thomas took Alastair’s hand in his starting to walk back to their apartment, Kit greeted them.

“Night night.” Lucie murmured with a half-smile on her lips, as if the fact that they were leaving weighted more on her than Matthew. Well this is really weird, thought Thomas looking at her, before turning and shouting over his shoulder, “Good night, everybody.” Alastair pushed him, as if to remind him what time it was (and that they had already screamed enough) and waved his hand in the direction of the trio, saying with a lower tone of several octaves “Night.”

“I hope you choke in your sleep, traitors.” Matthew cried as he stepped towards them, but staring at the window of James’ apartment. Then he looked at his wrist carelessly, “It’s only three damn, and we’re already so few.” Thomas chuckled interlacing his fingers with Alastair’s.

They walked for a while in silence, as they used to do when they came home after movie night. They lived only ten minutes from their friends’ apartment and driving to cover a so little distance and then not finding any parking was not a thing that tempted either of them.

Thomas was thinking about what he would cook the next day for lunch and was going to ask the other what was better between chicken and a omellette, even though he knew that Alastair would always choose meat over everything.

Alastair gripped his hand tighter, drawing his attention and when he turned around Thomas was grinning from ear to ear, Alastair’s gaze darted away, “Thank you.”

Thomas’ head tilted to the side, “For what?”

“For lying.” he shrugged “I know you don’t work tomorrow.” He kept on looking in front of him, if his cheeks were red only for the cold or even for the embarrassment Thomas couldn’t say. He smiled more widely. Sometimes it was so hard for his boyfriend to say simple things like thank you that he knew that when he did it for such petty things it was only because he was training for when he would really apologize.

“Ah, yes.” Thomas moved a hand in the air, “Of course. And then I’m dead on my feet, too.” he sent another smile his way, hoping to charm him, but Alastair almost seemed to refuse to look at him and Thomas realized that something was wrong because something in his tone seemed completely off when he replied, “Sure.” Alastair face scrunched up.

“What is it?” Thomas asked, curious to understand what was going on in his little head.

“I don’t know. Cordelia seemed distracted tonight.” he answered casually, kicking a bottle that was on the sidewalk, “And Matthew in desperate need of distraction.” he continued by squeezing his eyes when a bus lit up his face.

Thomas was happily surprised, it was not an everyday thing to hear Alastair speaking so friendly of his Matthew. Even when things started to go really well between the two them, Matthew had been hesitant and it had taken a couple of years and a move to convince him that they were made for each other, “Matthew is always in desperate need of distraction.”

“True, but tonight it was notably. Maybe with Christopher in a relationship he feels very lonely.” He hypothesized, finally looking up at Thomas’ face, whose eyebrows shoot up at the sound of his words.

“And since when do you care so much about Math, exactly?” Thomas asked sincerely interested in knowing what had changed in his vision of the blond boy.

“I’m not a heartless being, you know?”

“Still. You’ve never gotten along and it’s strange to see you worried about him.” Thomas said shaking his head still a little unconvinced.

“Oh God, I’m not worried.” Alastair exclaimed like he seemed disgusted just by the idea of it, “I’m just saying that maybe we should do something to distract him.” He said, trying to make it look like it was a normal daily thing he did, plan to cheer up Matthew, failing miserably.

“We?” Thomas asked, trying to get confirmation of what he had just heard, looking like an old man who found out that Santa really exists.

“If you don’t stop being so surprised about this, I’m gonna slap you.” Alastair warned him in a threatening tone as a shiver passed through his body. Thomas left his hand, hugging him, but keeping walking.

“As if you could reach me up here.” Thomas joked with a smirk.

“You’re… you-” the voice came out muffled, hindered by his boyfriend’s jacket, which pressed on his chin. Not that he minded, he was already feeling better than a few minutes before and could feel his fingertips start to regain sensitivity.

“Irresistible? Awesome? Too handsome for this world?” proposed Thomas hopefully, receiving a elbow straight to the ribs.

“Unbelievable.” said Alastair scowling, but still being slightly amused.

If to Alastair the others had seemed to be completely done with life and ready to sleep for eternity, Thomas was the exact opposite. He seemed to be kvelling out of every pore and the way he was jumping around, bouncing him around like a puppet, took a little of his concern away.

“Unbelievably handsome, you mean.”

“No, I meant you’re unbelievably stupid.”

“Ouch.”

Alastair shook his head, grinning, “Either way, if you don’t want to do something all together, you guys could always bring him out. You four could do a thing, like in the old days.” he proposed, shoving him off and putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Shortly after, he felt Thomas’ hand slipping into his own and smiled, holding his fingers hoping to warm up even more.

“A foursome thing you say?” Thomas asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement, “I didn’t know you were into these kind of things.” Thomas looked at him winking, but the smile died on his lips when he saw the grin on Alastair’s face.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking shit, I won’t let you sleep with me for a week.”

Thomas scoffed, “You wouldn’t last that long. You’d miss me too much.”

“Two weeks, then.” returned Alastair, not at all frightened at the idea of actually spending two weeks without being able to sleep in Thomas’ arms.

“Wanna bet?” he asked him laughing, probably still thinking he was joking.

“You know I never back down.”

Thomas got serious, pulling his hand out of Alastair’s pocket and, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, offering it to his boyfriend. “Deal?”

“Deal.” said Alastair without blinking, turning to him and shaking his hand.

“What does the winner get?” Thomas asked without letting go.

“Don’t know.”

“How about…” Thomas pretended to think about it, but the grin on his lips implied that he had kept that particular punishment for a special moment. And it had arrived. It wasn’t strange that they were betting with each other, “The loser does the laundry for a whole month?”

“Yes please. I hate doing laundry.” said Alastair, hinting at nothing more than no intention of losing.

“Oh I know, that’s why it’s gonna be so much better when you drag yourself out of our room to come on the couch because you’re gonna miss me too much.”

“Believe it all you want.” Alastair said, “And don’t think you’re the only one sleeping on the couch. We’ll do a day each.” he added. Thomas was quite gigantic, and he would certainly sleep all curled up on the couch, waking up with an absurd stiff neck, but he also knew that he would never let him sleep on the couch for two weeks. Even because Thomas would lose.

“Maybe we should seal it with a kiss.” Thomas leaned down, taking a step towards him so that now they’re faces were just mere centimeters apart. Alastair felt the hairs of his arms standing up and tried to convince himself that it was the cold, like every time they were out and Thomas insisted on touching him.

“You are insufferable.” he smiled, brushing his lips with Thomas’.

“And you’re irresistible.” Oh my god.

“What’s up with all your flirty little comments tonight?” he shoved him by the shoulder, always keeping him close to his body, not wanting to let him go yet. Their hands still clasped together.

“I studied the adjectives dictionary and thought I should share my new knowledge.” Thomas said, lowering the tone of the voice, looking at him as if his life depended on it.

“Stupid.” breathed Alastair, licking his own lips. Thomas’s gaze snapped down at the movement of his tongue and a guttural sound shook in Alastair’s chest, “I, for example, would have used witless.”

“Kiss me.” Thomas ordered him in a sensual voice and Alastair found himself thinking about what his mother would believe if they arrested him for obscene acts in public, if he had stripped him and taken him right there.

When they got home, the warm air that came from inside invaded Alastair to the bones and he closed his eyes beading of that familiar smell that was a mixture between his and Thomas’s.

He was about to take his shoes off when Tom looked out of the kitchen, handing him a black bag that smelled awful. He wrinkled his nose, slightly turning his head away to escape the smell. And here goes the dream, he thought sighing.

“Would you mind taking the garbage out?” he asked him with a hopeful smile, already wearing slippers. “It’s been there for two days and it’s starting to smell so bad that if a bear came into the house, I wouldn’t be so surprised.” he said seriously.

Alastair raised an eyebrow, taking back the keys he had just laid and the dripping sack. He wrinkled his nose again, “There are no bears in London.”

“Whatever.” he heard the other says as he closed the door behind him.

He started humming, thinking about the closing of the case he and Charlotte were working on right now. He’d been working for a little over a year at a law firm in the City, and this was the first major case she’d ever entrusted to him so far.

He went down the last flight of stairs opening the door to the back of the house, but heard a loud noise coming from the main entrance so, after having arranged the bag so that it could not be moved by the wind, he went to check what was happening.

Once again in the fresh air of a sleeping London, he saw a person trying to get up and stopped at the last step, hesitating, trying to see if it could have been someone dangerous or if they only needed help.

The figure before him grunted, swearing immediately afterwards and with a movement too fast for what seemed his physical condition, he stood, staggering.

Alastair was left breathless, and all he saw was red. A red that had tormented him for years and that occasionally appeared in his worst nightmares, “Charles.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Alastair felt himself die a little.

It had been months since he had last said his name and years since they had seen each other.

He knew that he had moved to a small town near Basingstoke, but he had also explicitly asked Matthew not to tell him anything else and that time the boy had just nodded, without saying any jokes as usual.

He was wearing a suit and tie, and to unknown eyes he might have seemed fine, but (god damn him) Alastair knew him, and saw what was under the abnormal amount of alcohol he ingested. He knew that something serious had happened if he was in London. In front of the apartment he shared with Thomas. And yet, even though he knew it was something bad, he didn’t care.

He’d already given him too much, he didn’t even deserve a minute of his time. At the sound of his voice, Charles’ eyes snapped at him and Alastair felt compelled to step back, resenting him being so close. His hands started shaking and he stared at him with his eyes wide open. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t hide the shock of seeing him there.

He was about to go back, inclined not to start a conversation with the boy who stood before him and Charles had such glossy eyes that to Alastair they could only remind him of all the times he had been forced to lock himself in a room with Cordelia, to spare her the sight of an alcoholic father. He nodded his head as a sign of greeting, his lips reduced to a thin line, turning and grabbing the door handle-

“Alastair.”

He closed his eyes and his breath became ragged. He felt his throat burn and he forced himself to wear the mask he had not touched in recent years and that had made him become someone he was not, made him become a monster.

“Alastair, I…” Charles took a step towards him, putting one foot on the first step, and Alastair’s back slammed into the frozen glass of the door when he tried to walk away. Charles halted, clenching his jaw.

Taking a deep breath, and another, then another, Alastair managed to talk, “What are you doing here?”

Charles seemed to relax, but he still came down the stairs, swinging before he grabbed the railing, “I wanted to see you.”

Alastair almost laughed, but he was able to detach himself from the door, carrying both hands in his pocket, closing them into fists, “How do you know where I live?” He asked in a dry tone, looking him in the eye.

“My mother told me.”

“You’re drunk.” Alastair stated, his gaze never leaving Charles’.

“I wanted to see you.” Charles repeated, as if those five words justified everything. As if he hadn’t made Alastair go through hell the whole time they were together and even after, when he tried to undermine his relationship with Thomas.

“It’s been four years.” his expression hardened.

“Rebecca left me.” one hiccup, and then Charles was holding back the vomit. Alastair turned his attention to the buildings around him, trying not to feel pity for the other.

Did she find out about your secret life and that you were lying to her all this time? , he wanted to ask him, but he just swallowed. He heard Charles sighing with relief and hoping he wouldn’t throw up, he turned to him again, “I didn’t know you were with anyone.” he said instead.

“Yes, because you didn’t bother to ask yourself how I was after you broke my heart.”

Alastair made a choked sound. He couldn’t believe it.

“I didn’t do anything. You built a life in a house of cards without thinking that the wind could blow too strong.” he told him approaching him enough to smell his cologne. The scent threatened to cloud his brain, bringing up too many memories.

Charles stood still, looking up at him, smirking, “How poetic you’ve become.”

“I’ve always been poetic, but you told me to be quiet because you were afraid someone might hear us.” Alastair raised his chin in defiance, and was satisfied when Charles did not answer him. He stood up straight and in a much less confident voice than he would have liked, he turned and pulled the keys out of his pocket, “Now excuse me, but I really have to go.”

“Sure, you’ve always been good at running away when things get tough.” Charles laughed, laughter devoid of all fun.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispered looking at the wood and glass in front of him, trying to focus on the brown streaks and not on Charles, “I didn’t run away because things had become difficult. I left you because you didn’t see me.” he took a small break, “You didn’t want to be with me and that… What we had was anything but healthy, Charles.” He ended up holding his fingers around the keys.

“And that-” another hiccup, “Lightwood is good for you, isn’t he? He treats you well. Do you still push him around, like you used to? Do you boss him around?” Charles asked, with a tone that made Alastair realize he knew he had struck a nerve. “That’s why you’re together, right?” something in Alastair’s chest took life and a feeling that had been dormant for years came to the surface. A feeling he chose to ignore completely.

Alastair didn’t even look at him and opened the door, he growled, “Go away. And don’t come back, or I’ll call the police.” When he came into the house for the second time that night, the heat didn’t warm the frost in his bones, and neither did the cheerful tone of his boyfriend when, leaning against the back of the couch, he said, “Finally, I was going to come down and rescue you.” Alastair didn’t answer right away, he was looking for an excuse, whatever was good to justify the fact that he was out for ten minutes.

He couldn’t have started a discussion right now. Not that Thomas would be mad at him, no. He probably would have consoled him, but in that moment he just needed to be alone and think about what Charles had told him. Convince yourself it was bullshit.

Thomas realized that something had changed in his boyfriend’s mood because he asked him, “Hey, everything’s all right?”

Alastair quickly recovered, blinking and starting to undress, “Yes, yes.” he said distractedly. “I’m just tired.” he took off his shoes, entering the kitchen to get a glass of water. His throat was so dry that it was beginning to hurt.

“Are you sure?” he heard Thomas scream in a worried tone from the living room, then that spark in his voice came back, “Are you already considering how bad laundry would be, for a month?”

He drew two glasses before he thought it safe to speak without his throat, now no longer made of sandpaper, being torn. He came out of the kitchen, heading towards their bedroom, “Sure. ‘Night Tom.” Alastair said to him, rubbing his hand on his face.

“Good night, Alas.” he heard him say. A break, then, “I love you!” said loud enough for night bus drivers to hear it.

“I love you too.” he whispered before closing the door behind him.

Thomas kept tossing and turning on the couch. The blanket he had chosen was making his arms itch and he could not find a position where all parts of his body were on the cushions and his neck was not bent in an uncomfortable position. Changing the blanket was not possible because entering their bedroom risking waking Alastair up was not even an option.

In the morning he would have had an important trial and had to be rested. Thomas was going to throw everything on the floor and settle down, there, when the sound of something falling out of the apartment door and a muffled fuck drew his attention.

His eyes moved quickly to the end of the hall, where Alastair slept undisturbed, “What-?” Thomas stood up when he heard another noise and then someone knocking so softly on the door that for a moment he thought he had imagined it.

He walked slowly to the hall, looking for something to defend himself, in case whoever was behind the door tried to harm him. He looked through the peephole and almost sweared.

He only saw the red hair, but it was enough to recognize the figure of Charles Fairchild. He sucked in a breath taking his keys and opened the door glaring once more at the door down the hallway, pushing back every rational thoughts in a box and ready to do everything in his power to prevent Charles to get to Alastair. The blood already boiling in his veins.

As soon as he was outside the apartment, he regretted opening the door. Charles was obviously drunk.

Thomas clenched his jaw, trying to control his tongue, who threatened to spit insults at him every second he spent staring at the brother of one of his best friends.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in an icy tone.

Charles chuckled, closing his eyes with an almost relaxed expression, “Funny.” Thomas raised an eyebrow, “What?” he asked. “No, I don’t care.” he told him by raising a hand in front of him, blocking anything else he had to say.

He closed his hands in fists, carrying his arms behind his back, insisting not to hit him unless absolutely necessary. His eyes widened, shocked by his own thoughts, opening his hands and crossing his arms on the chest.

The others would have been ashamed of him, because he was not violent, he was the gentle one, he repeated himself in the head like a mantra.

Yet kindness was the last thing he could summon as he watched Charles stare at him with a half-open eye and smelled like beer. “You have to leave before Alastair hears you.” he ordered without so many words. Saying his boyfriend’s name in front of him left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“And why would I do that?” Charles asked, ridiculously, staggering forward.

One thought brushed Thomas’ mind, “Does Matthew know what state you’re in?”

“Matthew.” disgust transformed Charles’ face, “He doesn’t even know I’m back.”

Thomas almost flinched away. He could have never spoken of his brothers and sisters with so much hatred in his voice and he knew that the relationship between Charles and Matthew was anything but fraternal, but he did not think that the oldest despised Matthew so much. That’s why he couldn’t control himself when he said to him with a strong tone, almost spitting, “Go away.”

Charles looked him in the eye and with the more serious expression than he had until then, said, “Make me.”

Thomas grabbed him by the shoulder and pulling him he behind began to descend the stairs quickly. Charles was having a hard time keeping up with him, and a couple of times he went and slammed into his back, but Thomas didn’t feel anything, and he didn’t move a half inch. He heard Charles swearing again and thought that he had never heard him say a dirty word until that night, “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m leaving.” Charles said yanking his jacket out of Thomas’ grasp.

“If I see you even a hundred meters from this house, I swear to God, I won’t be so forgiving, and the next place you’ll find yourself is prison.” he warned him without a glance, as he dropped him to the ground just outside the building.

“You’ve become such an asshole Lightwood, you were so kind before.” Charles bit and stood up and rubbed his wrists, “I remember you playing in our garden with Matthew and Christopher.” he chuckled for the thousandth time, “And after a few years, James came along. How cute you were.” he said with a sincerely happy smile.

“I’m serious, either you leave in five minutes, or I call the police.” he warned him one last time.

“Funny.” Charles repeated.

A vein popped out in Thomas’s neck while he yelled, closing the distance between the two of them, “What?!” He asked, “What by God’s grace do you find so amusing in all of this?”

“You spend so much time following his orders, you’ve become just like him.” hissed Charles, a chill ran down Thomas’ spine.

Everything stopped, “What are you talking about?”

Charles puffed, like he was bored with that conversation, like whatever he was talking about, the whole world knew, “Alastair.”

Thomas stood motionless, “I still don’t understand.”

He was ready to hear some bullshit, Charles wasn’t in a position to have such a serious conversation, and he couldn’t think clearly. For that it took a while when the other resumed speaking, it took a few seconds to really understand what he had just said, “I know him. He doesn’t really love you.” he hiccuped and stopped, “That’s always been the case between you two. You going after him like a lost puppy and he putting up with you because having someone around him is convenient.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thomas draw in a slow and steady breath, shaking his head.

“Oh my God, you’re starting to scare me.” Charles let out a disbelieved laugh.

Thomas couldn’t hold it anymore, “Go away.”

Charles raised his hands as a sign of surrender and began to walk backwards, looking much more sober than he really was. He smiled, “You should be careful. You could get burned.” Thomas didn’t answer.

And he didn’t answer him when Charles turned around and walked towards High Holborn and said, “Goodbye, Thomas.”

When he opened the door for the second time that night he sighed, hoping that Charles would not come back to annoy them because he didn’t think he could handle a mental blow like the one he just suffered.

They had overcome that problem years before, and Alastair absolutely didn’t need certain doubts to resurface, so he let a smile open on his lips when he heard his boyfriend calling him from the room in an alarming tone, “Tom?” sleep laced around his words, “Thomas, is that you?”

He crossed the apartment, opening the door slightly, leaning against the door frame. He forced the corners of his mouth to turn up, “Yes Alas, don’t worry.” he said, leaning his head against the wall, “I just heard a noise and went out to check that everything was okay.” he closed his eyes, tired from everything that had just happened.

“And was everything alright?” Alastair asked, raising on his elbows. His hair was all messed up and a particular tuft was pulled up, he kinda looked like a rooster. Thomas looked at him and chuckled, nodding, “Yes, nothing to worry about. It was just Petunia.” he murmured referring to the one-legged squirrel who always managed to sneak into the stairwell of their building.

They looked at each other for a while in silence. Thomas was deciding whether or not to tell him, maybe he should let it go. Their lives were going great now, they didn’t need to ruin their night because of this. He would have told him about it another day.

Alastair’s eyes narrowed, questioning, “Do you need anything?”

Suddenly, Thomas couldn’t control what came out of his mouth, and before he knew it, he was moving toward the bed, “It wasn’t petunia.” He sat down, never looking away from Alastair, whose eyes were focused on Thomas’s hand, who was holding the blanket between his fingers, “It was Charles.”

Thomas waited for Alastair to realize what he had just said. It gave him time to decide whether or not to talk about it, but the only thing he said was, “You just lost the bet.”

Thomas’s chest tightened in a press, his eyes threatening to water, “Alas.” his hand lingered between them, resting at the end on Alastair’s arm, who slowly escaped his touch, as if not to offend Thomas, “I don’t want to talk about it now.” he whispered finally, his eyes welled up, mirroring Thomas’.

“You met him when you came down to take the garbage down.” Thomas understood with horror, holding his breath. Alastair’s body fell all the way back on the bed, and he brought an arm to cover his face, but Thomas heard it anyway when he said, “I don’t want to talk about it now.” he took a trembling breath, “Please.”

“Alright.” Thomas laid down next to him, taking him in his arms, while Alastair set himself up so that his back was crushed against the other’s chest.

“I love you.” Thomas said in his ear, putting his cheek on his shoulder, “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” answered Alastair, staring at the void before him, “I love you too.” he said before closing his eyes.

***

“I don’t think you should go to work in your condition.”

“And what condition would I be in exactly, Thomas?” telled Alastair, anger flashing in his eyes.

That morning they woke up and very quietly did what they did every other morning. Alastair had gone to take a shower while Thomas was making breakfast, both were so thoughtless that they looked like two walking dead men. This was at least until Thomas had pointed out that he was not well at all and that he could not face hours of trial, even risking compromising the case.

“You’re obviously in shock from meeting Charles and going to court with your ex’s mother doesn’t seem like the best way to deal with it.” Thomas answered him by getting up from the stool and approaching Alastair, who in the meantime was tying his tie in front of the mirror they had arranged at the entrance.

“And let’s hear it, what would be the best way to do it, hmm? Sit on the couch in pajamas all day feeling sorry for myself?” he made a sound of exasperation, bending his tie and clenching his fist, trying to calm down. Thomas went next to him, taking the garment from his hand and placing it back behind his neck, smiling amused, with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not working today, and you know I would stay here with you. We could talk about it.” he told him, focusing on the knot instead of him, knowing full well how much he hated being looked at during these conversations.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” grunted Alastair, minimizing the matter at hand as usual.

“Yes, there is.” Thomas answered, walking away to see the final result. Alastair bit out a thank you.

“No, there isn’t.” huffed Alastair, “It just happened that Charles came back to see how my life was going and to make sure you and I were still together. This is what happened.”

“We need to talk about it because if he told you half the things he said to me, that means you’re gonna let the hate eat you up until it’s too much and you’re gonna convince yourself that what he said is true and you’re gonna walk away from me. And I’m not gonna let that happen,” Thomas said.

Alastair, who was in the middle of pouring himself a glass of water, stopped, laying it all in the sink and drew all his attention to his boyfriend, “What did he tell you?”

Thomas, seeing that he had finally gained ground with that phrase, did not miss the opportunity, “Will you call to get off work today?”

“What did he tell you, Thomas?”

“Will you call?”

“Yes, fuck, yes. I will call.” he answered exasperated, leaning on the table with both hands, staring out the window. “What did he talk about?”

“He thrust high school times in my face.” he saw Alastair lean even more, “He told me that I’m your dog and that you only play along because you need company, in a nutshell.”

“You know it’s all bullshit right?” when Alastair spoke his voice was pained, desperate.

“Do you?” Thomas asked again, “Because I know you, Alas. And I know you know I love you, but I also know that you’re probably wondering how it’s possible after everything you’ve done.”

“I love you too.” rushed to say Alastair completely forgetting what else his boyfriend had said, as if he were afraid that if he didn’t say it, Thomas would leave.

“I know.” Thomas approached him, putting his hand on his forearm, making Alastair turn to him, “I know, and everything that happened at school doesn’t matter. We’ve already had that argument. We’ve already solved everything.” he said with a hopeful look. But he saw in Alastair’s eyes how deep Charles’ words were already planted.

“Yes I know,” Alastair said despite everything, “All that crap about the child with a sad childhood trying to cope with it by taking it out on others. I do remember that one.”

“It’s not crap. It’s the truth.” he said to him as a reprimand, holding his arm slightly, “I chose to be with you. And I choose it every day because every day you give me a chance to see what a great person you are and how much you’re actually worth it. The others may not see you as you really are, but I do.” He touched his cheek, smiling.

Alastair looked at him for a few seconds, and then closed his eyes kissing him. Thomas was right, they had already addressed the subject too many times to return to it now.

“Now why don’t you call Charlotte and tell her you’re not going to work so we can get in bed and do nothing all day?” Thomas reminded him when they broke off, and he was still crushed against him.

“You are insufferable.”

“I made you coffee.” Thomas walked away from Alastair, approaching the stove, “Here.” said turning a teaspoon of sugar in the coffee. He offered him the dripping teaspoon, because he knew how much it bothered Alastair to waste even a drop of that gift of the gods, as he called it, “C’mon, lick it.” Thomas whined when Alastair stood still before him eyeing him with a look of pure love.

Alastair’s smile turned into something else, while with one hand he took the cup and the spoon from Thomas’s hands and with a sensual tone said, “I thought I’d lick something else actually.”

Thomas yelped when Alastair picked him up from the ground, with a bit of difficulty, and brought him into the room laughing. He threw him on the bed before jumping on his boyfriend’s body.

Yeah, fuck Charles.

taglist (if you want to be added just dm me and consider it done, same goes for the ones who want to be deleted)

@tyherondaletrash @clara-sm @cordelia-carstairs-owns-me @tessaherongraystairs @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @thecerridwen @stitch-kiss @alastairlightwxod @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea

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esabri · 4 years

Text

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instant Markt market Grad degree besiedeln populate küken chick liebe dear Feind enemy antworten reply Getränk drink auftreten occur Unterstützung support Rede speech Natur nature Angebot range Dampf steam Bewegung motion Weg path Flüssigkeit liquid protokollieren log gemeint meant Quotient quotient Gebiss teeth Schale shell Hals neck Sauerstoff oxygen Zucker sugar Tod death ziemlich pretty Geschicklichkeit skill Frauen women Saison season Lösung solution Magnet magnet Silber silver danken thank Zweig branch Spiel match Suffix suffix insbesondere especially Feige fig ängstlich afraid riesig huge Schwester sister Stahl steel diskutieren discuss vorwärts forward ähnlich similar führen guide Erfahrung experience Partitur score apfel apple gekauft bought geführt led Tonhöhe pitch Mantel coat Masse mass Karte card Band band Seil rope Rutsch slip gewinnen win träumen dream Abend evening Zustand condition Futtermittel feed Werkzeug tool gesamt total Basis basic Geruch smell Tal valley noch 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thesunnyshow · 4 years

Text

Name: Penelope

Writing Blog URL(s): @tigertaehyunq

Star Sign: Virgo

MBTI: INFJ-T

Favorite color: Purple

Favorite food: Cheese burgers

Favorite ice cream flavor: Blueberry

Favorite animal: Cats ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Go-to karaoke song: Promise - Jimin (BTS)

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? Coffee, definitely!

Dream job (whether you have a job or not)? Psychiatrist / Fashion designer

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose? Time travelling, if possible. It would come in handy.

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? The Victorian era, maybe.

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you? No. It’s a lot more fun going into it blindly.

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? One horse-sized chicken would not be that bad.

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? The nerd.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? Yes.

What are some small things that make your day better? Little compliments from friends and family, a bright song that pops into my mind as soon as I wake up.

What fandom(s) do you write for? BTS

When did you post your first piece? February 2nd, 2020

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? I write fluff, angst and crack for now. They’re the three genres I feel most comfortable with so far. And they’re entertaining to write for.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? X Readers for now, but I’m slowly moving to write for ships too.

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? It appeared to be quite fun and I wanted to connect with more people who had similar interests as me.

What inspires you to write? Songs inspire me most, and talking with fellow writers helps too!

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? Angst and crack, probably. I love writing for fake dating AUs the most.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? That everything comes around and wraps neatly at the end. And it may not be visible at first, but I always appreciate when readers point out my foreshadowing specifically.

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? I take a break from writing and let it come on its own. It usually works, and in the rare cases it doesn’t, a push from my inspirations gets me going.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? My favourite work, and the only work that I feel like lives up to my expectations, is my Jungkook x reader fic titled ‘Someone Like You’. I like how I wrote it and got attached to the characters. My most successful work is likely the series, ‘Shoot Me’.

Who is your favorite person to write about? I love writing for all the members of BTS so much and it takes quite a lot of effort to not make every single story OT7 x reader, but I mostly end up settling for Jungkook, though I’ve been writing a lot for Hoseok lately behind the scenes.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose? Well, there are quite a few differences. Fanfiction doesn’t always involve making your own love interests since you’d know the person you're writing for pretty well (like an idol), unlike in original prose. Though it doesn’t make fanfiction any less better. Both are great in their own ways, with little differences here and there.

What do you think makes a good story? The way of writing and how the voices of the characters are delivered. I find it enticing when that’s done in a good way and it always draws a reader in, so I try my best to follow that too.

What is your writing process like? Most of the time, it starts with a rough outline in bullet points about the main events, characters and personalities, etc, before I plan the details in my head because I’m too lazy to write them all down, and write away at a blank document until the fanfic finishes.

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? I’ve thought about it. And I would, though I’d add a lot more depth and details.

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? I love fake dating, yandere, siren, soulmates, childhood best friends to lovers and modern royalty AUs. I don’t think there’s any specific trope I hate. But I’ve read stories with a bully and victim turning to lovers and that one might be the only AU that irks me off.

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? Depends. If I’ve written the work specifically for someone, then that person’s feedback is more than enough for me. But I usually do like to have some feedback and it makes me very happy.

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? Sometimes. And by that, I mean, most of the time. I think the prejudice and bias is slowly dying down, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a large majority still judged fanfic authors unfairly!

Do you think art can be a medium for change? Definitely. In fact, art is one of the best mediums when it comes to wanting to make a change, doesn’t matter how big or small.

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? At first, this was common. But recently, I’ve learnt to flow with the story and write it for myself, so I can see how it goes and where the characters end up. It’s a lot more fun this way.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? No. Not that I can think of, anyway.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? Nope.

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? That I appreciate the time they took to read my work(s). It’s really encouraging and sweet.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? It’s okay to step out of your comfort zone. Success comes from trial and error and it’s alright to feel down when that happens. Writing is a journey, and it’s best to let go of all doubts as you progress through it.

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? Not yet. Dare I say it, it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made thus far!

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? My biggest supporters are @bangtan-dreamland and @rubinora. I find myself lucky to be able to rant to them since I don’t have anyone else to turn to.

BONUS ROUND: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

#@tigertaehyunq #thesunnyshow #featuredauthor #episode 33 #bts

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tkemeaway · 4 years

Text

Operation We-Would-Make-a-Great-Mocha

Summary: Bucky and you spend your work days pairing your costumers up. Modern AU.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: For @buckyofthemyscira, Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year! May 2020 be all you want it to be✨, I hope you enjoy this lil gift😋.

Thanks to @bucky-smiles for organizing this Secret Santa thingy and for being patient, you’re awesome💕.

The gif’s a lil sexy but there’s no sexy times in this fic!

Warnings: Fluff? Pining? A lot of clichés and bad pick up lines. Bickering and stuff. Maybe a couple newbie mistakes because this is my first time writing. Bear with me pls!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mornings were boring, but what else could you expect from a wrong placed Starbucks? The investors overestimated the interest of locals in overpriced coffee. Something about urbanizing the area, attracting more people and eventually creating a central, more commercial zone. That happened a year ago and the reason the shop was still up and functioning was mainly the horde of teenagers coming in the afternoons after school to have a taste of the “city life”. The mornings however, the mornings were a complete different story. There were two regulars, a large black coffee with a muffin at seven thirty and a hot chocolate at nine, and from time to time some clueless visitant who had gotten lost in the nameless streets of the maze-like town and came across the isolated, kind of hidden, coffee shop.

That Monday morning in particular there was a surprising amount of five people in the shop, three being costumers. Black Large had arrived half an hour later than her usual time and Hot Chocolate had apparently decided to start his day earlier than he was accustomed to, both of them taking quite a while to finish their orders. An occurrence that has turned into an usual one after the first time Black Large seemingly slept through her alarms and entered the coffee shop in a hurry to fetch her order and throw some cash on the counter at the same time Hot Chocolate was enjoying some polite small talk with the barista while waiting for his order to be made. An amazing moment happened then when, just like in the romcoms, they glanced at each other casually but their eyes glued to the other’s and for a moment it was just the two of them, until his order was placed in the counter and the world began to turn again. It was fun for the two baristas to watch how, since that day, they started coming to the shop with a bounce to their step, their gaze more alert and the tables they chose to sit in more close to the other’s each day. Fun. Yeah. At least at first.

“Oh my god, this is ridiculous, that was the fifth time in 20 minutes that they smiled at each other!” She told him as she put her hands in the air, making him chuckle. “This is not funny Buck, we gotta help this poor souls!”.

“Remember what happened the last time you helped some poor souls get together?” Bucky crossed his arms and she huffed.

“That’s not fair, how was I supposed to know? They seemed so in love!”

“He took her money and ran away!”

“Okay, okay, not my best work, but I introduced Steve to Peggy and they’re doing amazing. Besides, we know these two, doesn’t she work with your mom? And I’m sure I saw him in that big Christmas party last year. There’s no way either of them is that bad.” She argued and gave him puppy eyes. “Prithee help me help them?”

She knew the answer way before he made up his mind. That’s how it would always go between them. If he was being difficult, she would tell him that nothing happened in that goddamned town and that he was denying her the tiniest amount of fun she could gather from her boring life, that she could be doing drugs and riding motorcycles but she just wanted to be her selfless self and help someone to find love, and he would then comply to whatever she was asking of him. She would think it was because her amazing persuasion skills and excellent arguments, for she was blind to the loving look and affectionate smile she would receive from her coworker.

“Wow there, doll, no need to go shakespearean on me. I’ll do it, but the beers are on you tonight, I’mma need some alcohol after helping you chase away the only two regulars of this fucking place with your plotting.”

She squealed, took his hand in hers and squished it against her heart, “I like you so so much, do you know that?” He gave her a pained smile that she didn’t notice because she was already scheming. “I’m thinking maybe we can put a message in her muffin and say it’s from him?”

He rose an eyebrow playfully. “Do you know how to letter with icing?”

“No, but I do have an amazing, handsome, crafty coworker who does.”

————

“I’m soy into you.”

“You are just the way I like my coffee. Tall, dark and strong.”

“Bean thinking about you a latte.”

“Affogato? Afforgeto where I am when I look at you.”

“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so caramel me maybe?”

“That wouldn’t even fit in there! And it has a sexual innuendo that I’m not sure she would appreciate much.” He said with an amused smile.

“But it’s genius!” She punched his arm as he laughed. “You’re awful at brainstorming.”

“I just don’t know why you’re putting so much effort into this, you don’t even know these people!” He questioned jokingly, and it was just for the sake of it, because he loved how stubborn she could be when she wanted something, and he knew he would do anything he could to help her get whatever she ever wanted.

“I’m projecting onto them the kind of corny as fuck romance my life is lacking.” She deadpanned and then chuckled. “Look, if I can’t have a love story with my guy then I’m gonna help them have theirs.”

Bucky’s heart clenched at her statement but he still joked. “You mean all it would take to win you over would be to throw a lame pick up line at you?” That earned him a glare from her. “You know, someday you’ll have to tell me who this guy you’re always mentioning is,” and he actually, desperately wanted to know who the fuck was this man that had everything he wanted and didn’t do anything about it. Y/N had casually mentioned him a couple times but when Bucky asked about it, she just said that the guy was way out of her league and that she wouldn’t do anything about it anyways so there was no reason to reveal his identity.

It was Tuesday morning and that meant matchmaking time for Bucky and Y/N. It was six thirty and there weren’t any clients to serve as it was expected. She was sitting on the counter with a notebook in her lap while she chewed on a pen pensively, unaware to the effect this little action had on Bucky, who was leaning on his elbows by her side. They were using a notebook to draw a representation of the chocolate muffin that was destined to get the missive across, and trying to find the perfect line to catch the attention of Black Large without it being creepy. It needed to be precise, flirty but appropriate and the correct amount of funny. Bucky seriously doubted that a cheesy pick up line would attract the very professional looking woman, but Y/N was certain that she had to have a playful side to her in between all that business attire, and she was sure that the soft personality and cheery attitude of Hot Chocolate was the perfect combination to bring it out. All of this was on Y/N’s mind when it came to her.

“I got it!” She screeched and jumped off of the counter to scribble something on the paper that she then held in front of her for Bucky to see. There it was, in the middle of the wonky lined muffin. He left his position on the counter to fully face her and stared blankly at the words for a couple seconds only to immediately double over with laughter.

“We would make a great mocha together? Really?”

“I don’t know what you laughing at, this is honestly the finest piece of art my brain ever produced.” She rolled her eyes at him. “You just don’t get it, it’s because she orders a coffee and he has th—”

“Oh no, I do get it.” He continued to laugh and she gave him an offended look, so he put his hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, seeing that you’re the Cupid here and I’m merely one of your arrows, I’m gonna trust your oh so ever magnificent wisdom in the love field. But you owe me for this, specially if it fails and they sue us or something.”

“They can try,” she scoffed, “but since you don’t trust my amazing plan at all let’s make this into a bet, shall we?” She looked at him mischievously while crossing her arms. “If it works, and it will, you have to take my morning shift this Friday. If not, then you win.”

“What do I win exactly? When I win.” He leaned on the counter again and smirked at her. “And please define ‘works’ in this context. I’d feel lucky if she doesn’t start screaming at him or walks out immediately but I don’t think that’d be enough to call you a winner, doll.”

“If you win, you can choose whatever you want, and that’s if they don’t at least exchange numbers.” She extended her hand to him. “You in?”

He shook her hand and sighed, “I am.”

“Amazing! Operation Mocha-Love is on! To the cave!”

————

“Explain to me why is it me who has to do the delivery again?” Bucky asked her.

It was eight in the morning already and it wasn’t long before the subjects arrived. The Glorious Cupid’s Arrow (code for the muffin) was sitting on the back counter behind the display racks where the coffee was made. It was your normal chocolate muffin, except it had the words ‘We would make a great mocha together’ written in small cursive.

Y/N stopped sweeping the floor and leaned on the broomstick with her head over her hands. “You have to buy us a little time in case Hot Chocolate decides he doesn’t want to come early today. If he’s not here when we give her the muffin she will smell the distinct smell of bullshit don’t you think?”

“I get that, but why me?” He suddenly stopped wiping the counter and looked at her. “And what did you just call him?”

“Hot Chocolate? Codename for Carl, because he orders a... well, a hot chocolate? You know?” She hesitated but smiled when she saw that Bucky was grinning at her and continued sweeping. “And about her, I don’t think she likes me that much since the first time she came here and I gave her a cold coffee by accident.”

“She as in... Black Coffee?” He guessed.

“Large Black.” She chuckled.

“Nice, and what’s my codename?”

“Right now and for the sake of this mission you're Icing Arrow and I’m obviously Cupid.” He laughed and they went silent for a while as they finished their tasks.

“By the way, I know what my reward’s gonna be once this fails miserably.” She looked up at him from her new place behind the counter and rose her eyebrow inquisitively. “I want you to tell me who the guy you like is.”

She huffed in annoyance but before she could reply to his request, the sound of someone entering the shop broke her focus on him and put the plan in motion. Her eyes went wide and she silently hurried him to take position, as he was sat at the table in front of her. She got excited and Bucky even started to feel a little nervous. Though surprisingly, it wasn’t who they were expecting to arrive. Carl walked to the counter where Bucky was waiting for him already and ordered his usual, then sat in the table at the center of the place when Y/N handed him his chocolate, just beside Large Black’s table.

Before Bucky had the time to comment on how this was perfect timing, the second subject came in through the doors and started walking towards an awaiting Bucky. Y/N could barely contain her enthusiasm while Bucky told the woman, Amanda, Large Black, that he had a special muffin for her as requested by the only other person present in the shop. Her resolution faltered when Amanda furrowed her brow but it came back stronger when a goofy grin slowly made its appearance in her face as she read the inscription in the sweet treat. She subtly did a victory dance when Amanda went to sit with Carl at his table.

————

Bucky showed up for Y/N’s shift on Friday with a defeated look on his face and dragging his feet. This was his sleeping in day. He worked Fridays in the evening, when no one came by, not even the teens, seeing they were getting ready to go out since it was Friday’s night after all. The cherry on top, he couldn’t even see Y/N like every other day working the early hours because he was covering her shift. With the silence that the morning and the solitude allowed, he indulged in the comfort of daydreaming about her. His coworker. His friend. His everything-but-what-he-wanted-her-to-be.

He kind of disliked her at first. She was clumsy, loud, and didn’t have any boundaries whatsoever. She treated him as a friend since she started working there, a month after him, and his shy reserved self didn’t trust that kind of behaviour coming from a stranger. She would punch him in the arm when laughing at something, call him all sorts of nicknames and rely information on him that he wasn’t sure what to do with (why in hell would he want to know that she could recite all the words to the Kanye West classic Gold Digger or that she could tie her shoelaces in 3 seconds?).

But she slowly grew on him. Her weird impressions and the way she quoted The Simpsons on a daily basis, how she started working in a coffee shop despite the fact that she hated the smell of it just to prove a point still incomprehensible to him, her temporary fixations on stupid things like pairing two strangers together or the Star Wars franchise (which she made Bucky watch with her in one sitting).

He fell for her in between days of playing Alphabet Categories and nights of drunken karaoke.

They were friends. She was in love with someone else. There wasn’t much to it and Bucky didn’t like to sulk in it, so he just thought about what it would be like to kiss her. To be the reason she had a dreamy look on her face. To wake up with her and to hug her whenever he wanted and kiss her when she was funny like he always wanted to. He thought about this often, and that was what he was doing when Amanda entered the shop followed by, much to his surprise, Carl himself.

“Hi buddy,” he greeted Bucky once they reached the counter, “where’s your partner in crime today? Tricking some other pair of fools maybe?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he started apologizing, “I’m sorry sir, we meant no harm and...” but he trailed off when he noticed how Amanda was containing her laughter while intertwining her arm with Carl’s. “Wait, you two are— it worked?”

“Let’s say it did.” The woman smiled at Bucky knowingly and took out her wallet to put some cash on the counter. “Charge me our usuals, add a muffin to his and let me return the favour, please tell her you like her.”

Bucky just stared at her dumbfounded and she chuckled, but Carl was the one to continue. “You think you’re the only ones with eyes?” Bucky kept silence now worried about Y/N not being as oblivious as he thought. The man in front of him caught that. “She doesn’t know. A two way street apparently... I think we’ll leave you to it and you can bring us our food when you’re ready.”

And with that, they walked to their table.

————

It was Saturday. Y/N walked into the shop to see a nervous Bucky fidgeting in his seat at one of the tables.

“Sup dork.” He jumped from his seat and stood in front of her. “Wow there, everything alright? You seem a little off.”

“All good, doll. Want some breakfast?” He was already walking behind the counter while she took her backpack and jacket off. “I put extra work into this one, you’re gonna love it, made it myself.”

She scowled but didn’t say anything. She came out of the employees closet with the apron on and leaned on the counter with her elbows supporting her. “Well hit me with it then.”

Y/N saw Bucky falter a little, but he still placed the dessert in front of her and watched her closely while she examined the piece of food.

It was a muffin. A big as fuck muffin, clearly homemade to make the long phrase written on top of it fit, apparently by Bucky, and Y/N’s breath got caught in her throat when she read the words of a beautiful pink color. She thought it was either a joke or maybe another Cupid’s Arrow to light the way of some other lost idiots to love. Though when she looked up at Bucky, the look of utter adoration and hope on his stupidly, impossibly blue eyes left no doubt in her mind. However, she kept her expression as blank as possible. He was desperate already, wondering if he should have said something instead, if he should talk now, but she interrupted his thoughts by saying “You know, it doesn’t work if you already have my number and we’ve known each other for almost a year. I guess it’s fair to tell you who I fancy.” And, before she could actually see his heart breaking, she brought him closer to her by his shirt and kissed him with the counter between them.

————

“You know, you didn’t actually say anything.” She told him while keeping her eyes in the frapuccino she was occupying her hands with.

It was funny, like watching Large Black and Hot Chocolate pining after the other for weeks, how the largest amount of clients in months decided to come to the wrong placed Starbucks just when Bucky was finally able to taste the lips of the woman he wanted for so long. Even before he had time to properly react, the door opened and a procession of seemingly still drunk gals and pals walked in the shop. This happened from time to time, when hungover people would walk in after a busy night to the only coffee shop open so early on a Saturday.

Bucky smiled and turned her around by her hips to face him. “I like you.”

“How much?” And even if he didn’t expect her to ask him to marry her, he wasn’t expecting that answer either. But then she saw the cheeky grin on her face and cackled. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bit her lip to keep her smile from showing.

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “I like you a latte.”

She kissed him again, conveying her answer with the fervency of her lips and the desperation of her hands in his hair. Bucky brought her even closer to him by her waist and slightly bit her lower lip to gain more access to her and— someone clearing their throat from behind the counter. “Do you mind not making out over my cup?” Said the man with an annoyed tone.

They went back to finishing the last orders with big smiles and hearts aching to embrace the other. “Can you pass the coffee and sugar?” She asked from behind him and Bucky dropped the cup he was working on when she walked to him and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Because you just made me cream in my pants with that kiss.”

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aurora-australis-tumbles · 5 years

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Author Interview

Tagged by: @firesign23

Name: Something far less interesting than my username, I assure you.

Fandoms: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and Agent Carter.

Where you post: AO3

Most popular one-shot: Evidence for Miss Fisher, which probably shouldn’t be at all surprising since it is one of only two M-rated stories I’ve ever written, and When Peggy Met Phryne; or, Tea for Two, Coffee for Everyone Else for Agent Carter, though I’m not totally sure that counts, as it’s a crossover. But I’ve only written one other one-shot for AC, so it will have to do. 😂 By kudos, it’s the same for AC, and for Miss Fisher it’s Kiss and Tell, which feels very appropriate for this questionnaire as it was inspired by a Tumblr discussion of Jack Robinson’s kissing prowess.

Most popular multi-chapter story: First Impressionists for Miss Fisher, a reunion case fic that I wrote very specifically to feel like an episode, so that feels pretty good, and for Agent Carter an Endgame ending fix-it fic titled, Time and Tide and Terrible Twists of Fate.

Favorite story you wrote: Maybe Can’t Stop Falling, which is a modern AU based on a song by my favorite Canadian band that works better than it should, or Tried and Tested which features one of my favorite conversations between Phryne and Jack, but really it depends based on any given criteria for “favorite.”

Story you were nervous to post: All of them? 😂 But I was probably MOST nervous for my first Phrack story (Five and Twenty), which was also my first fic for any fandom ever, or the three works I wrote based on other fanworks (Present, Tense, an addendum to @firesign23’s heartbreaking We Should Meet in Air; For the Better, a continuation of @omgimsarahtoo’s gorgeous For Good; and Neapolitan Complex, based on @allysketches’ fabulous Peggysous drawing) because those folks were all entrusting me with something personal and I wanted to do right by them. Thankfully they were all lovely about it. ❤️

How you choose your titles: I try desperately to find an appropriate pun, and if I can’t, I’m sad for a while and then settle for something else that feels like it works and isn’t too long. Generally a phrase or word that appears in the story. Behind the magic, people! 😂 Actually, titles are a lot easier for me than summaries, which I struggle with every time.

Do you outline: Always with a multi-chapter story, because I need something to work off of even if I eventually go off-script anyway. Rarely if ever for anything else, but I always start off with a key moment or image or line of dialogue in my mind and build around that.

Complete: 41 - one more and I’ll have the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything! 🎉

In-progress: I don’t post works in-progress because that’s not how I write - I often write sections of a story out of order and then tie them together, or go back and change things right up until I hit post. I do, however, have a series in-progress - New Found Lands, my modern AU which was originally a one-shot and will now ultimately be a four-story series.

Coming soon/not yet started:

My third 2019 Whumptober contribution. It’s whumpier than my usual style, so... hopefully I’ll still post it. Probably. Maybe.

The final story in New Found Lands, my Miss Fisher modern AU series. It’s about... 2/3 written now? I have been working on it on and off for a year, and I would really like to finish it this calendar year. *fingers crossed*

A slightly AU story set during seasons 2 and 3 of Miss Fisher that looks at canon through the lens of a different choice made by the characters early in season 2. I am writing it in collaboration with a friend, which is a fun experience in and of itself, whether or not we ever actually finish.

My own Season 3 of Agent Carter, which we never got, which is a crime, and should be rectified by all fic writers all the time (please???).

Do you accept prompts: Yes! I love prompts, and honestly I find they often spark something faster than my own musings. @whopooh is a fabulous plot bunny, and her Whumptober prompts generated three new stories from me in the middle of a drought, so all praise to prompts. But I can also be a pretty slow writer, so...

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Besides the above? A case fic I wrote the first chapter for and then just... stopped when my writing hit a wall. But I was really excited about it when I started, and it’s all plotted out (including, ridiculously, a detailed program for the charity one of the characters works for), so maybe one day!

Tagging @viikirks, @truth-renowned, @whopooh and whoever else wants to play!

#on writing #an interesting excuse to be a bit introspective

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tren-fraszka · 5 years

Text

Hate Exchange Letter

Dear creator,

Thank you for taking your time to check my requests. I know my requests can sound a bit tricky, but please don’t be discouraged. I wish you will have good time writing first and foremost!

My AO3 is Tren, if you wish to check it out.

Likes: comedy, casefics, canon compliants, AUs, time loops, bodyswaps, roleswaps, “being hoisted by your own petard” plotlines, snark, pettiness, rivals, enemies to friends to lovers, violence, friendships and character bonding,

DNW: explicit sex, A/B/O, mpreg, rape depicted as positive (so no “it’s okay, because the other person enjoyed it/it was what they truly wanted”), trans headcanons, soulmates, stories ending with surrender to fate/destiny, fourth wall breaking in canons where that doesn’t occur.

Also, I included what ships I’m okay with in each fandom. Please do not include any ships that aren’t canon and I have not allowed in those sections (if you feel really strongly about a ship, you can ask through mods just in case, if I didn’t include my opinion on it).

Additionally, while I almost never request fanart as possible medium, because I prefer my main gift to be fic, I would be very okay with receiving fanart treats.

REQUESTS

PERSONA 5

Hate that ends

Hate that exists and continues

Hate that starts

Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira

I’m a big sucker for party traitors, so it isn’t really a surprise that I walked out of my Persona 5 playthrough with a new shiny ship. I love how messed up it is with both of them planning to outplay each other in a deadly game and yet still forming an emotional attachment. I also really love how they are mirror images of each other. They are extremely similar, and yet they are also each others opposites. There’s just something fascinating in watching them interact.

I’m okay with all takes on hate for this ship. Akechi has canonically very love-hate relationship with the protagonist, so you can spin this however you want. You are also free to make Akira as bitter about the whole thing as you want. I’m always a game for Akira having all the regrets about Akechi’s death and hating Akechi for leaving him with all the emotional turmoil.

For the story, I’m very okay with some in-between the canon flirting with the obligatory dash of scheming and mind games. I’m also all about different ways their confrontation could go down. Maybe it’s Akira who dies and Akechi lives through with his hateful feelings not coming any closer to being resolved? Or Akechi can’t keep his feelings in and slips at some point?

AUs

I don’t mind AUs, just be aware that the messed up relationship between the two of them is a huge draw for me, so I would definitely opt to preserve that part in some form. You don’t have to do the exact same scenario, but at least make them childhood friends, who ended up on the opposite sides of some conflict. Or undercover spies who got in relationship without knowing each other true identities and they really should kill each other since they work for different clients. The exact setting is of secondary importance to me, so choose whatever you feel would work best. AU Divergences are also welcome. I’m always a game for Akechi surviving. Especially, if he gets to shoot the final boss in the face.

Akechi Goro & Self

He has so many issues you are practically spoiled for choice. Bastard by birth, believes himself to be a reason why his mother died, spent years in foster home system which just enforced his belief that he isn’t worth of love, became a supernatural assassin despite having strong sence of justice. And did I mention having to kill the only person he had formed a legitimate connection with? Yeah, just one of those things would be a great self-hatred fodder, but all those things together mix to create a true picture of self-hatred. You can’t go wrong with it.

There are so many prompts you could potentially use for this in Akechi/Kurusu segment above (just take out the potential shippiness if the pairing is not your thing), I don’t think there’s much point in repeating myself. You are free to AU as much as you want and have fun.

Hate that ends

Sakura Futaba & Self

I loved the chilling exploration of Futaba’s problems in her palace and further revelations we get through Sojiro’s social link. I would love insight into her deteriorating self-worth post her mother’s death and then followed by slow improvements once Sojiro takes her in.

I would love insight into Futaba trying to figure out the truth about her mother’s death, her initial refusal to believe that it is her fault, followed by slow acceptance over the time, as she fails to find any evidence to the contrary.

I asked for Hate that ends, because I would prefer a take that is compliant with the canon story. I know this is pretty constraining, but at the same time it means that you don’t need to concentrate on the improvement factor. As long as the story ends heavily implaying that Phantom Thieves are about to help her with her issues I will be satisfied.

However, if you do dig the hope aspect I will love some quality Sojiro & Futaba family interactions and her slowly acknowledging that maybe she deserves more than a slow death in seclusion and decides to seek help form Phantom Thieves.

Ships

I ship Akira and Goro, and don’t want them shipped with anyone else. I’m okay with including pretty much any other ships, except for the ones between the characters who are still students and adults.

GOLDEN KAMUY

I’m reading manga chapters as they come out, so you are free to incorporate any new developments into the story. I will definitely be caught up.

Hate that exists and continues

Ogata Hyakunosuke/Sugimoto Saichi

If you know this canon I probably don’t even need to explain to you what I want. They hated each other from the very beginning of the story and the world may end, but their hatred would still live on. You don’t have to be too shippy with this, if you don’t want to, I mostly want to just get more off their passionate hatred we get in the canon.

For the prompts, I would love if they had to work together (just the two of them, or maybe with Shiraishi as a suffering third wheel), because someone kidnapped Asiripa and they had to get her back. Or chasing someone who stole the skins from them.

Alternatively, I would love petty matches over Asiripa’s attention when they act perfectly nice to each other, because she is there, but keep competing for her attention to annoy each other.

Also, this canon is ripe for tropes like huddling for warmth, or sharing one blanket, and would definitely encourage the hate-filled take on those. Also time loops with those two nd how much of a disaster it would be.

AUs and ships

I’m all for canon divergences or changed settings. You want Sugimoto and Ogata as coworkers in modern setting? Go for it. I would love any messing up with the story, because there are so many things that could have gone differently here.

I have no strong ship preferences here as long as Asiripa is not shipped with anybody. Also I prefer Sugimoto to have no romantic experience, aside from his canonical one-sided crush, before he started to have feelings about Ogata.

THE RISING OF SHIELD HERO (ANIME & MANGA)

I watched anime and read manga, but have not checked light novels. So please, no spoilers for anything beyond manga.

Hate that starts

L’Arc Berg/Iwatani Naofumi

Naofumi spends a lion share of the plot having terrible trust issues after Myne’s betrayal and you can’t convince me that he isn’t extra salty about L’Arc.

L’Arc is literally the first person Naofumi willinglu opens up to after spending majority of the plot avoiding trusting anyone, so the fact that this person turns out to be his enemy must sting. While L’Arc isn’t a type to keep grudge, Naofumi certainly is. Which is why I just want Naofumi being all bitter about his feelings for L’Arc after the betrayal.

I would love some more adventures of those two before the Wave happens and everything goes to shit. Or maybe they meet after the Wave with Naofumi having been separated from the party and struggling with something, and L’Arc runs into him and helps him out (because he’s not the type of guy to stab someone in the back). Which just prompts Naofumi to be even more bitter, because he wants to really hate L’Arc, but unlike Myne he can’t just label him as completely evil.

Or Naofumi going through all the memories he has of L’arc wanting to find good reasons to hate him more, but just coming with more reasons why he loved him in the first place.

AUs and ships

Setting changes and canon divergences are all fine, as long as you keep the element of betrayal.

I’m okay with Naofumi also having some feelings for Raphtalia for an awkward romantic triangle, as long as his complicated feelings for L’Arc are the focus of the story. Other than that I don’t want either of them shipped with anyone else.

GINTAMA

I have watched anime up to Gintama': Enchousen, so please no spoilers beyond that season.

Hate that starts

Hate that exists and continues

Hijikata Toshirou/Okita Sougo

I loved their vitrolic relationship from the very start and the more we got of their backstory, the more I loved it. I would be okay with the story not being very shippy, as long as I get plenty of their amusing interactions.

I love how well they understand each other, including the reasons why they don’t get along, but somehow it is easier for them to maintain that animosity than to try and repair their twisted relationship.

I always enjoy small tidbits of how terrible they are at working together when it comes to solving anything that isn’t Shinsengumi-threatening emergency. I loved that episode which was just showing Hijikata and Okita attempting to do normal police stuff and utterly failing to have any sort of law-abiding integrity while they were at it.

If you want to go to the backstory and how they already didn’t get along in the dojo I’m also all for it. Any involvement of Mitsuba to add oil to the already bright flames of mutual dislike is welcome. I love how her presence mellows both of them when she’s there, but in the long run it just made their relationship even more of a mess, because they both wanted the best for her in their own way.

For shippier request I would love a date attempt by those two homicidal idiots. There are just so many ways this could go wrong. Or Gintama staple of handcuffed together with Hijikata constantly having to stop the dismemberment attempts.

AUs and ships

I’m open to any sort of setting or canon divergence. Then again, I dare you find a cooler setting than samurai police in alien infested Edo.

I don’t want the two of them shipped for anyone else, except for maybe acknowledging Hijikata’s canonical feelings for Mitsuba (because that just makes Hijikata and Okita’s relationship even more of a trainwreck). For other ships I enjoy Gintoki shipped with either Otae or Tsukuyo, and Kagura and Shinpachi as two characters who are not yet ready for relationship, but would make a nice match once they grow up more.

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

I read the manga chapters as they come out, you can assume I’m caught up on all new developments.

Hate that ends

Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

I love how different the two of them are, but at the same time how well they compliment and understand each other. Also, while I love them as a pairing I won’t mind if you write them as friends, as long as you don’t pair them with other characters.

For this exchange I would love a more conflict driven beginning of their friendship. Bakugo says a few words too much about Midoriya? Uraraka tries to talk to Bakugo about how he treats Deku or just about how he acts in general and accidentally pokes his terrible inferiority complex? Or they run into each other before the UA entrance exam and somehow end up having a more bitter relation? All of that is good.

I would love if then they were forced to then acknowledge each others strengths as heroes, but possibly still feeling somehow bitter. Maybe they end up working together when UA is attacked? Or incorporating their duel during the sports festival (which I love, it’s what started this ship for me). Or maybe Uraraka gets kidnapped together with Bakugo during the camp and she ends up revising her opinion of him while they are in captivity together.

For more prompts I would love having them complete some sort of exercise or exam together. I would love to see them pretend to be villains for the sake of exercise and butting heads, because they dislike each other. Or they work together on something for school festival. Like making a perferomance together. Alternatively you can go for a future fic where the two of them take part in an action to stop villains as full-fledged heroes, but they can’t let go of all the hang-ups they have about each other from when they went to school together.

AUs and ships

I would very much encourage any future fics for this pairing. I love seeing characters as fully-fledged heroes. I’m okay with other setting changes, though I would prefer for the competence aspect to still come in play somehow in them (with Bakugo being stupidly talented and hard working, while acknowledging Ochako’s potential). I’m also very okay with canon divergences.

I don’t mind past Midoriya/Ochako if you want to incorporate it into the story, but I’d rather not get any love triangles for this pairing. Either have Ochako’s feelings sizzle out or have them date and break up at some point in the past. When it comes to other pairings I like Midoriya/Todoroki and Eraserhead/Mic, but have no strong feelings on other characters pairings, so you are free to do whatever I guess.

FATE/ZERO

I’m well versed in Fate franchise so if you wish to expand beyond Fate/Zero to include either some parts of Fate/Stay Night or El-Melloi II Case Files I will be very fine with that.

Hate that exists and continues

Kotomine Kirei & Self

Kotomine Kirei and his self-loathing is unironically one of my favourite ships in Fate. I loved Kirei’s internal monologues in the novel, as he slowly inched toward the self-discovery that he is in fact the very thing that he was taught to hate the most.

Give me all the religious guilt. All the nagging thoughts that follow Kirei’s enjoyment of ruining other people’s lives. Kirei already thought of himself as lacking before the events of Fate/Zero and watching his doomed pursuit of finding something meaningful in his life was great.

Kirei was basically doomed to suffering, either by continuing his empty life or by embracing his true self and plunging himself into depth of self-hatred. And I’m all about that freefall, sponsored by the ancient king Babylon. So give me Kirei struggling within the confines of Holy Grail War, trying to find himself, yet suspecting that nothing good will ever come out of it.

AUs and ships

I’m okay with canon divergences, less about setting changes due to how deeply Kirei’s issues steam from his specific situation, but if you can make it work I will be for it. I would be very excited for canon divergences. Maybe Kirei making slightly different choices during the Holy Grail War? Maybe alternate timeline when he decides not to betray Tokiomi, but somehow still ends up on path of evil despite his efforts. Maybe he summoned a different servant, who influences Kirei differently? I’m always surprised by how interesting alternate scenarios people come with for Holy Grail Wars, just give me your take.

For alternate timeline takes, you can make my day by including wreacking Matou’s mansion and/or killing Zouken. Even if it’s just a footnote.

I very much ship Kirei both with his dead wife and Gilgamesh. You are free to incorporate both of those ships.

Hate that exists and continues

Waver Velvet & Self

Another contender for the biggest self-loathing in the franchise. El-Melloi II anime reminded me just how much I enjoyed that aspect of Waver.

I would love an alternate take when Waver and Keyneth actually had a more proper face-off other than their first meeting on the battlefield. I would love if Waver saw Kayneth wheelchair-bound and blamed himself for that.

Or something more canon-compliant exploring Waver’s feeling of uselessness and guilt he has. Either is good. For extra self-loathing you could get the family Waver is staying at caught in the crossfire of one of the fights. Or Waver gets used by some other master to attack another and only belatedly realizes that he was nothing more than a tool used for murder.

Just give me some quality Waver suffering and self-blame whether dislpaced or not.

AUs and ships

Similarly as above, I’m stocked for any canon divergences. Maybe Waver summoning a different servant? Waver making different choices as to how proceed with the war. Maybe making an allience that doesn’t work out for him in a longer run?

For alternate timeline takes, you can make my day by including wreacking Matou’s mansion and/or killing Zouken. Even if it’s just a footnote.

I don’t ship Waver with anyone, so I would prefer no romantic plotlines for him. I find his relationship with Rider interesting and definitely important, but can’t see it as romantic.

#exchange letters

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bookaholic1012 · 6 years

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An Unexpected Muse - Feysand

Summary: Based on prompt from @sjmaasandallthesass : Feysand in a modern AU where Feyre and Rhysand always see each other in this cafe they like but never speak to each other, and he likes to sit and read or write while she loves to draw little sketches here and there. One day, she goes to the bathroom or whatever and he sees her sketchbook as he’s passing by and sees she’s been drawing him. You can choose the ending.

A/N: Hello, everyone! This prompt & fic is from when I reached 100 followers. Apologies for the long wait and if my writing isn’t up to par. (I wrote when I had writer’s block for something else, so my writing was kind of suffering I need my opinion.) Something to know: This fic is told in alternating point of views both in 1st person.

Word Count: 1,636

Writing Masterlist

I saw her frequently at The Sidra. The first time I spotted her, I nearly dropped my coffee. She was beautiful. I knew nothing about her but was instantly captivated. I figured she was an artist; the young woman was always drawing something in a sketchbook. She had golden-brown hair, blue-gray eyes, pale skin, and I even glimpsed a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Gorgeous.

I would love nothing more than to take her on a date, but that would be strange. We have never spoken and all I do from the moment she enters the café to when she leaves is covertly look at her whenever I can. Occasionally I caught her looking at me, so I have hope that something will happen between us.

Every night I wish to the stars for my dream to be answered so I can properly meet this stunning angel.

He’s easily the most beautiful man I��ve ever seen. Black hair, soft brown skin, gorgeous violet eyes. He’s always at the café, sitting at the table tucked away in the corner. Always reading. Sometimes looking at me.

When I first caught him looking at me, I couldn’t help the deep blush that bloomed. I promptly glared at him, turning back to my sketch, fighting the tug of my lips, fighting the smile. I was flattered, of course. He could be an Abercrombie model. And the perfect subject for my next drawing.

My grip tightened around the pencil I was holding. I hadn’t thought of anything new to draw in ages; usually I redrew old pieces of art, making them better using the skills I’d obtained through the years.

I glanced once more at the stranger but averted my gaze when I noticed he was still looking at me.

What did he see in me? What did he see that made him gaze at me with interest? As if I were his savior?

Weeks passed by with us continuing to dance around each other. It was obvious by now that she had an interest in me, and it was painfully obvious that I had an interest in her. So I decided to ask her out.

But I chickened out the first time I planned to.

Now I was going to try again.

The beautiful creature had gotten up to go to the restroom, and, due to my stalling, I wound up being late to meet Cassian and Azriel at the movies.

Tomorrow, I promised myself. If she is here tomorrow, then I will ask her out.

As I was leaving, I made sure to walk by her table in hopes of glimpsing whatever it is she was working on in her sketchbook before leaving the table. I knew I should ask first, but I was curious.

What I saw made stop dead in my tracks. She had been sketching a familiar young man. She did not need to add color to her art in order for me to recognize him; his features I knew so well were a giveaway.

She drew me.

I was so shocked by the realization that the breathtaking woman had paid enough attention to me for her sketch to be done so accurately that I hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps.

“Crap, this is mortifying.”

I spun around, coming face to face with the angel of my dreams.

“Uh, hi.” Immediately I scolded myself. Out of all the words in the English language I could have used, I chose ‘uh, hi’ ?

“Hey,” Her face was bright red, making her cute freckles stand out. “You probably think I’m some creep. I am so sorry. I should have asked if I could sketch you first. I mean I don’t even know you, it’s just that you are incredibly handsome and a perfect model! I just had this urge, y’know? Like, if I couldn’t capture you in my sketchbook, then what will I do? Aaaand I just realized that is even creepier, so I’ll just go, and —”

“No!” The word burst out of me, cutting off her ramble. “I mean, I don’t want you to go. I, uh, have actually been meaning to… get to know you. You’re interesting to me. Does that sound strange? Shit, it does, doesn’t it? I just mean that I felt a… connection — now that’s sappy and double weird. We aren’t in some Hollywood movie. But, I, um, was wondering if we could — and this probably seems bizarre to you — go on a date? Maybe. I don’t know why you would agree, but I would like to. So, uh, yeah.”

I looked down at my shoes, hoping she wouldn’t see the blush creeping up my cheeks to my ears. When the silence went on for much longer than I would’ve liked, I started praying for the floor to swallow me whole. There was no doubt in my mind that she was going to turn me down. I know I would if was in her position.

“Are you always this articulate? I got the impression you were some suave man.” I looked up to see her lips had curled into an amused smirk. “But… I suppose I could be persuaded into a date.” Then she laughed. And I would do anything — anything — to hear it for the rest of my laugh.

God, I have the inner monologue of a cliché romance!

“Trust me, I usually am suave. Just not around you apparently. Oh, I’m Rhysand by the way. My friends call me Rhys.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Rhys,” she held out her hand. “I’m Feyre.”

Cauldron, her hand is soft.

Shut up, Rhys.

“So, how can I persuade you to go out with me?”

Feyre laughed again, a full-bellied laugh. “I was kidding, Rhys! I’ve also been wanting to ask you out, and I totally got what you meant about the Hollywood movie connection feeling. Does Friday work? At… eight?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me.” In all honesty, I would have said tonight, but that would be pushing it. I mean, I have no idea how much I already freaked Feyre out.

“Great! I need to leave, so can I get your number now?”

“Of course,” Hearing she had a place to be reminded me of my own plans. We swapped phones and put in our contact info.

“Sorry for keeping you from the… movies, I think? You have tons of texts from someone named Cassian.” Feyre added when I looked confused. I had completely ignored the buzzing in my pocket and the fact that I was extremely late.

“It’s alright. I much prefer your company over Cassian’s.”

“Well, it seems Cassian is desperate for your company, and I really do need to be going. See you Friday, Rhys!”

“Bye, Feyre.”

When I got to the movies, I tuned out Cassian’s questions — “Why the hell are you late?” and “What’s got you grinning like an idiot, Rhysie?” being the two constants —as well as the movie.

I couldn’t get Feyre out of my head.

“Feyre! I was wondering when you’d come!” Alis said.

“Sorry! I got held up! Where’s Lucien?” I looked around for my other close friend, but he was nowhere to be found in the park.

“He texted saying he was held up by something. He’ll be here in about thirty minutes.”

“Do you think he and Andras are having sex?” Lucien and Andras had moved in together recently, and they constantly took advantage of their newfound privacy.

“There’s no doubt in my mind!” Alis laughed. “But seriously, girl, what happened? I was ready to start searching for you when you weren’t at our table; you’re the most punctual person I know!”

“I have a good reason, I promise! You remember that handsome guy I mentioned a few times? The one frequently at the Sidra?”

“‘Mentioned a few times’? Fey, you gush about him for hours!”

“I don’t!” I protested. “Anyway, I’ve been sketching him and he saw it.” Alis gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “I know! It was beyond mortifying! I started rambling like I always do when I get nervous, but then he cut me off, asking me on a date!”

“No way!” Alis squealed, her horror morphing into joy.

“Yes way! And Rhysand — that’s his name — was so cute while asking; he was blushing and fumbling his words. You know how I find that endearing!”

“Nothing is more swoon worthy than a guy who gets all flustered!” Alis agreed.

“Right! Anyway, I agreed — obviously — so Friday night, guess who’s got a hot date?”

“That’s my girl!” Alis cheered. “I can’t wait to meet Rhys! Then, you guys will be engaged, have a lovely wedding where I will be the maid of honor, have kids, and grow old together!”

I smacked Alis’s arm. “Jeez, Alis, slow down! We haven’t even gone on our first date yet!” Though I had to admit that I wouldn’t mind if what she said came true.

“Alis! Feyre!” Lucien called out, jogging towards us. “Hey, guys!”

“Hello, Lucien. I’m surprised you are up and running. Andras didn’t tire you out?” Alis teased.

Lucien’s smirk was downright wicked. “He will when I go back home. I didn’t want to abandon you and Feyre.”

“Alis and I were having a grand time without you, Luc.” I said.

“Oh I see how it is. You two are cutting me out of the group.” He wiped away fake tears. “I’ll just leave now, I suppose. Since you two don’t want me. It’s alright, I’m used to it.”

We all laughed before Alis told Lucien how Rhys and I were going on a date, causing me to retell the story, this time with Alis’s input.

I left Velaris Park with a huge smile on my face, eager for my date with Rhys.

Thank you for reading! x

Tagging: @sjmaasandallthesass @the-annabethchase @sugarcoated44 @ourbooksuniverse @ame233 @tyblckthrn

Send me an ask if:

- you want to be added/removed to/from the list

- I accidentally left you off

#acotar fanfic #modern au #feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand x feyre #a court of thorns and roses #Prompt writing #My writing

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youlovemeade · 6 years

Text

Witchlands: Modern AU!

Hey!! So @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername made these awesome aesthetics and press blurbs for a Witchlands Modern AU, and I used those (with their blessing!) as a jumping off point for what will hopefully be a multi-chapter fic of idk how many chapters. I’ll probably post one per week so I can still do drabbles throughout the week too. No promises, though, because I’m not the best with consistency and as with all the writing I do, even that which is wholly my own, I start strong and fade fast and never finish...

You can see the awesome aesthetics/press blurbs here:

Safi x Merik

Iseult x Aeduan

Ryber x Kullen

Vivia x Stix

I quoted some of the things in the Safik and Baeseult posts in my fic below. They’re really cool so I would definitely check them all out, like them and reblog them!!

People who asked for tags if I wrote this: @morebooks-pls @inopinion

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Susan Dennard, and the ideas came from @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername

Word Count: 1260

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Trigger Warnings: Reference to potential forced marriage. (Let me know if there are others I should add and I will do so immediately!!)

The magazine made a harsh slapping sound as it hit the coffee table. As soon as it was down, Safi changed her mind and picked it back up, tearing it open to the offending page and reading the article for the hundredth time.

Iseult didn’t quite sigh from her place on Safi’s sofa, but Safi could so easily feel the exasperation radiating off of her that she might as well have. Still, Safi said, “Found people my age to date?” Her grip on the magazine tightened until it rippled under her fingers. “As if I found Henrick. As if I sought him out, and now I finally came to my senses and found someone appropriate. And what is this ‘too close to be innocent’ bullshit?”

“Boys will be boys and old men will be old men,” Iseult replied, her voice monotone as always. “All of this was obviously out of Henrick’s control and you were at fault for enabling him.”

Safi didn’t respond to that, though, as she was already past Henrick and onto Merik. She turned the magazine so Iseult could see, folding one half behind the other to narrow the focus. “Look at this picture they put in here, Iseult.” She tapped her index finger furiously against the photo of her and Merik leaving the art exhibit opening, hand-in-hand. The tabloid had blown up their hands into a separate circle from the main photo. “Look!”

Iseult looked, quite dutifully, even though Safi had made her look thrice already, before meeting her friend’s eyes. “You slut.”

Safi groaned loud enough to shake her penthouse and threw the magazine behind her. It made quite a bit of noise as it fell through the air, but she didn’t bother to see where it landed. She just flopped down onto the couch to let her groaning continue.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Iseult said, her head tilted so she could see around Safi, as she apparently did want to see where the magazine ended up. “It seems like your plan is working.”

“We don’t know that,” Safi countered. “And we won’t know until I get a call from uncle Eron.”

“You say, as if he’s looked up from the bottle long enough to notice that you’ve done anything.”

Safi groaned again and tried not to let the truth feel like a hit. Iseult was right, of course, but it still pained her to think about her uncle, his drinking problem, and how easily messing up her entire life came to him when he was inebriated.

“Why did I do this, again?” Safi asked.

“I don’t know. You made the decision without me.”

“It’s an utterly stupid idea that puts me in utterly unbearable situations.”

“Again, your idea.”

“And Merik Nihar? I mean, honestly. Of all the people in New York - Merik Nihar.”

“Completely your choice.”

“His palm was sweaty.”

“Seems fake.”

Safi sniffed at that, indignantly. “Well. His tie was crooked.”

“That’s true,” Iseult replied, a ghost of a smile on her face that made Safi smile, too, despite everything. Her friend let the silence be for a minute before continuing. “I get it. It’s annoying. But this is what you want. Henrick hasn’t made the official engagement announcement, and now his team will hold off because of the publicity you have with Merik. They’ll tell Eron to get you under control and will wait until your press has calmed down to announce, and you, of course, won’t get under control and instead will make an announcement of your own: you’re Merik Nihar’s girlfriend. It will work.”

Safi found herself nodding halfway through, but her stomach still twisted with a sense of wrongness. She couldn’t relax, because something in her gut was screaming at her that this would go sideways, because all her plans always went sideways.

But Iseult’s didn’t, and Iseult was right in front of her telling her that it would be okay. So it would be okay.

“When?” she asked. “When do you think will be a good time to make that announcement?”

“Ryber and Kullen’s wedding? It’s just a few weeks away, and though they wish they could completely avoid the press, we know they won’t be able to. If you can post something to Instagram and draw the attention away from them...”

“Yeah,” Safi replied, and she nodded for good measure. “Yeah. I’ll ask Ryber.”

Iseult nodded, too, and Safi relaxed enough to reach down and start to undo the buckle that trapped her foot in her way-too-painful heels. When Iseult didn’t reach down to remove her own shoes - sensible tennis shoes, because Iseult was always sensible - Safi paused. “You’re not staying,” she said. It was a statement more than a question, because Safi was already sure of the answer.

“I’m not. I have an appointment.”

“To do what…?”

Iseult’s nose wiggled, just a bit, nostrils flaring, and Safi knew that she didn’t appreciate this line of questioning - which only convinced Safi to stay on it. “I’m meeting with Aeduan.”

Safi blinked at her. Once. Twice. Then she made quick work of sliding off her first shoe and unbuckling and sliding off the second, before throwing the upper half of her body over the couch in what she was sure was an inelegant sight. “You know,” she said, her hand clasping the previously abandoned magazine. “I was not the only one featured in this magazine.” She grunted as she pushed herself up from over the back of the couch and turned to face her friend again. She ripped the magazine back open and turned it back to Iseult, her finger this time furiously tapping a footnote below a picture of Iseult and Aeduan talking by a painting in the exhibit. “Are their recent meet-ups for dinners and at galas with their friends just casual?” She quoted. “Or is something else cooking?”

“If something else was cooking,” Iseult replied, cool as ever. “You would know.”

“Why don’t I know whatever is actually happening, even if you’re not whipping up a meal?”

Iseult didn’t have an immediate answer to that, which made Safi frown. She didn’t say anything more, though, because she wouldn’t squeeze the answer out of her friend. Even if she wanted to.

“He asked for my help,” Iseult said, slowly, in that way she always did when she was choosing her words carefully. Safi knew it to be a lingering habit from when she had to work to get over her stutter. “I’m helping.”

Safi held herself back from releasing a breath that would have sounded way too disappointed. “Is he okay?” Iseult nodded. “Fine, then. But if you or he need my help too…”

“I’ll ask,” Iseult reassured her. “Always. I know I can ask.”

Safi returned her nod, and then finally let out her breath in the form of an overly dramatic sigh. She let herself fully lay down on her couch, in a movement that could only be described as a flop. “You may leave, I suppose.”

Iseult’s reply to that was a pillow in Safi’s face, which had Safi laughing instantly. She kept the pillow where it was, letting its weight against her eyelids act as a comfort that would lull her into an afternoon nap.

“I am taking this magazine with me,” Iseult said, and Safi heard its pages flutter against each other as she picked it up. “And recycling it. Don’t overthink things.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Goodbye, Iz.”

Safi could hear Iseult’s smile even though she couldn’t see it. “Bye.”

#truthwitch #witchlands #susan dennard #safik #baeseult #rylen #safiya fon hasstrel #iseult det midenzi #merik nihar #aeduan #ryber fortiza #kullen ikray #truthwitch fic

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spider-moon-princess · 6 years

Note

Okay, Fictional Kiss Prompt #5: hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp for Iba and Shiori.

Thank you @resshiiram for Iba and Shiori XD Here’s your prompt. Shiori is one of my OCs, and my lovely friend here gave me the pairing…Modern Cop AU!

—++—

Officers walked around the station, carrying paperwork or guarding incoming convicts. The doors slammed open as a famed detective arrived with her latest arrest. Cold cyan glared at the man she threw at the officers that came forward to take him. “Just try groping another woman ever again!” She growled as the man ducked his head down, eagerly letting himself be led away by the officers. Her cyan eyes glanced back at her partner, a rather handsome detective with short brown hair that nicely framed his handsome and pretty features. He looked back at her, his head tilting in slight confusion, finishing the sweet bread in his hand.

“Ah, Shiori-san,” He smiled. “We need to write up that report.” He licked the sugar remains on his fingers and she quickly looked away, the man was always eating something sweet, and stormed to her desk. Iba Hachirō followed her and sat across from her in his own desk. He peered up from his computer as she watched her fingers move about on the keyboard, her expression fierce. Chuckling quietly to himself, he grabbed a wet towel from the inside of his desk drawer to wipe his fingers and opened up the shared document she was already working on.

Not long after turning in the report of assault, Shiori would be pressing charges against the man she’d been trying to find. The station had gotten numerous reports of a man that was groping women on two streets, near a bakery that Iba Hachirō only bought danishes from. She’d been hanging out there with her partner, Iba, undercover, to catch him, and today, the perp foolishly had tried to cop a feel of her ass. She’d twisted his arm and kicked him down, and if it weren’t for her more light-hearted partner, she would’ve given his face a few more bruises, maybe even a broken nose. He had stood by for a few moments and brought out the cuffs before Shiori could beat him completely senseless. He had to pluck her off of their perp.

He sighed dreamily. Even while bringing out her fists, she looked stunning.

“Yo! Hachirō!” A larger man with vivid blue eyes and a green bandanna on his forehead clapped his back, startling him.

“A-ah, Nagakura-san…” He gave him a sheepish smile, as if he’d been caught eating sweets when he wasn’t supposed to.

He leaned down and peered over his shoulder to look at Shiori across from him. “Na, you’re staring more at Shiori-chan more than at your work, Hachirō~.” Shinpachi smirked and squeezed his shoulders.

A little pink dusted Hachirō’s cheeks. He didn’t think anyone was noticed him. “Nagakura-san!” He whispered and stood up, leading him away to the break room. Luckily, his partner was too engrossed in her work, so wasn’t going to miss his presence for a while.

Hachirō poured them both some coffee in mugs and they walked over to the little table that held sugar and various other things to add to their coffee. He liked his with three sugars and cream.

Shinpachi only added a bit of cream and a sugar. “So, when are you going to make a move, Hachirō, my man? You’re so stricken with her.” He chuckled and took a sip from his mug.

“That would be extremely unprofessional of me, Nagakura-san.” He sighed and stared down at the coffee in his mug. “Rather than me,” He noticed that his attention had shifted to the window. They had a good view of people coming into the station. Chuckling, he looked back at the older detective. “When will you make a move on Miura-chan?”

Shinpachi’s cheeks dusted with pink as he waved back at the cheerful girl that was approaching them. “..Not a word, Hachirō.”

“Nagakura-san!” Etsu had signed into the front desk and spotted Nagakura-san and Iba-san from the room. She was actually here at the station on business, but it never hurt to greet others. Besides, Nagakura-san looked rather dashing in his black v-neck and dark jeans. She admired the way the tight shirt fit him, her throat suddenly parched. She turned her head to avoid staring at him too much and noticed the other person present. “Ah, Iba-san’s here too! Hello!” She smiled sheepishly. She’d been excited to see Nagakura-san, she almost forgot that the gorgeous Iba-san was also present.

“O-oh! Etsu-chan! Hey, how’re ya?” Shinpachi admired how pretty she looked in her navy blue pencil skirt, white blouse, black pumps and her brown hair that was up in a bun today. He’d met her a while back when he was working on a case. Not all detectives and prosecutors get along, and he normally clashed heads with some of them, but he definitely had a weakness for the cute ones, especially Etsu. With her, there was more than just interest, but he just hadn’t found the right time to ask her out yet.

Hachirō took this chance to go back to his desk, pouring another cup of coffee for his partner. She took hers black, no sugar. He made his way back to his desk, placing the mug in front of her to interrupt her work.

Her sharp cyan blue eyes shifted over to his handsome face. Her heart did a little flip when he smiled that adorable smile of his.

“Shiori-san, we have a late shift tonight, don’t we?”

“Thank you…” She nodded, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she glanced back at her computer screen, lifting her mug by the ear and blowing on it for a few seconds before bringing up to her lips. Perfect. Black coffee just like she liked it. “Iba, we know for sure that Takeda’s gonna be there tonight?”

Hachirō nodded and took out a case file from the locked compartment of his desk. “That’s what Chief Kondō told us, which is why he wants us to stake out tonight.” He furrowed his brows when he saw that look cross over her pretty and soft features. She was planning something. “Shiori-san…We’re there to keep tabs on Takeda tonight, we’re not going to bring him in tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling her eyes and drinking the remainder of her coffee, she stood up and grabbed her gun holster and slipped it on over her white button-up shirt. “I’m going down to the range. I want to be ready for tonight.” She grabbed her jacket and didn’t wait up for him.

Entering the range, Shiori’s jaw clenched when she caught sight of the messy auburn haired man, wearing a dark red button-up and black jeans. He smirked , looking over at her, when he set his gun down and took off his red ear muffs. “Did you check the board? I’m still ahead by one arrest.”

Shiori grabbed her blue ear muffs, safety glasses and bullets at the counter before slipping into the stall next to his. “Shut up, Okita. I brought in another one this morning. We’re tied now.” She loaded her gun and glared over at him, noticing that he was also refilling his gun with bullets. The two had a long bet. At the beginning of the year, they’d bet who could make the most arrests by the end of the year. In exchange, the winner gets to ask something of the loser.

“Loser buys lunch?” He cocked the gun and glanced back at her.

“Fine. But you’re buying for all of us, Chinatsu-chan, Iba and me.” Shiori smirked, tightening her ponytail, making sure her long, wavy violet hair was in place, before putting her ear muffs and glasses on.

“I hope your wallet’s open, Shiori-chan.” Green eyes met her cyan eyes, determination and fire in both of them before they turned to wait for the targets to appear.

Hachirō sighed and lightly shook his head as he stepped into the range, going to the counter to grab his equipment. He spotted Chinatsu a few stalls away from the rivals and greeted her pleasantly as he entered the stall next to hers, “Hello, Chinatsu-chan. They’re at it again, aren’t they?”

Chinatsu lowered her purple ear muffs and smiled back at him, nodding. “Seems like it. At least we don’t have to pay for lunch today.” She shrugged and reloaded her gun.

Hachirō chuckled and loaded his gun after putting on his glasses and ear muffs to practice his precise shots. He and Chinatsu had known each other as children, and they’d passed through the academy together as well. They were very good friends, and unbeknownst to them, their partners were watching their friendly chit-chat with envious cyan eyes and green eyes.

They turned back to the targets after they reset.

–

Shiori happily dug into her pasta while a sour Souji grumbled as he stabbed his meatball. “Italian. We could’ve had lunch at the hot dog vendor.”

“I won, I get to choose lunch. You know the rule. Shouldn’t have made the bet if you knew you were going to lose.” Shiori haughtily turned her head to him, taking a large bite of her carbonara pasta. “Delicious. Besides, fucking whine. Last time you won, we went out for fucking steaks. Steaks are way more expensive than pasta dishes.”

“I’m paying for the four of us.” Souji crossed his arms bitterly after eating another meatball.

Iba and Chinatsu sat next to each other, doing their best to ignore the bickering pair and focus on their food, which their partners didn’t take too kindly to.

“Iba, hurry up and finish since we gotta go back to prepare for the stake out.” Shiori took another large bite of her pasta. The faster they finished, the faster they could go check on their equipment on their own.

Hachirō chuckled and wiped his mouth. “I’m done, let’s head out then.” The pair stood up and walked off. Shiori blew a kiss to Souji rather mockingly, which irked him.

Chinatsu stared after the pair and turned back to her partner. “They’re staking out Takeda, aren’t they?”

Souji nodded and sighed. “That’s going to put her so ahead if they actually wind up busting the deal.”

“The Chief’s orders were to just observe.”

“And how many times have we heard that and wound up making the big busts?” Souji smirked, reaching over to wipe some sauce off her lips with his thumb, tasting it for himself. “Hm, the alfredo’s not bad. Might have to go for it next time.”

Chinatsu opened her mouth in shock and a blush spread across her cheeks. “O-Okita-san! What are you doing?!”

“Just tasting the pasta. Why? Would you like a taste of mine?”

She wanted to hide behind her strawberry blonde locks. She stood up, not bothering to finish the last bit of her pasta. “P-pay the check. I’m going to the bathroom.” Chinatsu took rapid steps towards the bathroom.

Souji chuckled in amusement as he took out his wallet.

–

Guns. Check. Bullets. Check. The bugs. Check.

Shiori continued making a mental checklist as she looked over the equipment in the trunk of Iba’s car. His car was a bit more reliable than hers and would be fitting in more with the scenery they’d be going to. Her car was a bit older and had its issues. She didn’t drive much anywhere else besides the station and her apartment, so she didn’t see the need for a new car. They normally used his on stakeouts because it was newer. Guess it paid to be a wealthy politician’s son.

Hachirō slipped next to her, setting bullet proof vests in the trunk. “You forgot these.”

His sudden presence made her heart jump. “Th-thanks.”

“They’re just a precaution. We’re just observing.” He said firmly as he looked at her with his soft, but serious green eyes. Those eyes that just made her forget what the hell she was doing.

“Yeah…I know.” She repeated for the hundredth time that day. Of course, Shiori wasn’t just going to let Takeda go without a fight, and it seemed like her partner was painfully aware of it.

–

Hour five. The sun had already set a long time ago and Shiori was becoming restless just sitting in the driver’s seat. Nothing had happened yet, and she was wondering if the tip had been to throw them off.

She sighed loudly, blowing her violet bangs out of her face as she looked over at Iba, who was taking out another donut hole from the bag he had. With all the sweets he ate, it was no wonder he oozed sweetness.

Shaking her head, Shiori almost slapped herself. Her thoughts like this about her partner were becoming too frequent. Glancing back at him, she nodded to herself. The man was ridiculously good-looking. She’d been told too many times how jealous someone was because she got to work with him so closely.

Guess she was lucky. He was more than just a pretty face. Iba had the skills to back her up in any given situation, and had saved her ass more than just a few times with his quick thinking or sharp shooting skills. He was the calmer of the two. She liked to act more than think about acting, and with a short temper…she often jumped on the gun too quickly.

Her cyan eyes wandered back to him, watching his lips as he licked the sugar off of them. She licked her own and nearly slammed her head into the steering wheel. Just what the hell was she thinking?!

“Shiori-san, are you okay?”

NO. Shiori turned to face him. “Fine. Just irritated that we haven’t seen any sign of Takeda. Chief told us to give up at dawn, didn’t he?”

Hachirō patted her shoulder, smiling gently. “Yeah, but there’s always next time, Shiori-san.”

His touch sent little electric shocks through her, and she quickly shrugged his hand off. “Guess this tip was a fake.”

“Hold on,” Hachirō’s brows creased in confusion as he turned up the volume. The bugs they’d planted before the building was going to be used was picking up some new voices. “Listen.”

Shiori leaned closer to him to listen closer. “The fucker’s there, we have to get him Iba! There’s only like ten of them!”

“Shiori-san! We don’t-” She was already getting out of the car to grab her vest and gun. Hachirō sighed and followed after her after calling for backup. With that, the Chief and Captain would know what was going on.

The pair went around the back, and Hachirō nervously kept his ears open, hoping to hear sirens soon.

“Fuck it, I’m going in, Iba.”

How many times had he heard that phrase before he could stop her? He lingered outside for a few moments, letting her get ahead a bit. He ducked behind a large pile of crates as he heard someone approaching. He heard a gun cock. Someone had definitely seen Shiori go inside.

Shiori crept inside the warehouse, biding her time for backup before she took action. She managed to hide behind a pillar, able to catch what the voices were saying across the warehouse. It was a big deal.

“Shiori-san!”

She was pushed down and heard one gun go off, followed by several. “Iba!” She hissed, staring up at him. He’d tackled her behind a mess of boxes. “What the hell! You gave us away!”

“There was someone following you.” Hachirō scrambled off of her to take his position to shoot from behind the boxes.

“Fuck.” She muttered, peering from behind the boxes. She spotted Takeda, his long, dark purple hair flowing behind him as he made his escape. “Not today, you don’t! Cover me, Iba!” She managed to shoot he hand of a man closest to her to stop the oncoming barrage of bullets.

“Shiori-san!” Hachirō managed to get the next one that was about to shoot at his partner as she darted out to run after their prime target. He managed to walk forward and shoot their hands or arms to force them to stop shooting at them.

“Takeda!” She continued running forward, now outside. He was attempting to make his getaway in a black car. “You’re under arrest!”

A bullet grazed her cheek. They had counted he number of lackeys wrong. There was one more they’d missed. She tried to shoot his arm, but her gun clicked. Her gun was out of bullets. She wouldn’t have time to reload before he took another shot. From the corner of her eye, she could see Takeda smirk and roll up the window of the car.

Before she could brace herself for pain, the man let out a cry and fell to the floor.

“Shiori-san!” Hachirō yelled and gripped her shoulders tightly. They could finally hear sirens in the distance. “Do you know how reckless that was?!”

“Very…I thought we could get him…” She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

He shook her lightly, one of his hands taking her chin so she’d look into his wide eyes. “Shiori-san, you put yourself in too much danger tonight! You were too careless tonight! What would’ve you have done if I wasn’t here?!”

She’d never seen Hachirō lose his composure like this before. “Iba, I’m fine. I knew you’d cover me. I wouldn’t have taken the risk if you weren’t a good shot.”

“Do you trust my ability to shoot so much? If I had missed?!”

“You don’t.”

Hachirō was growing more frustrated by the second. Did she not see her injuries? Many bullets had grazed her arms and face. Even though she was wearing the vest, it didn’t mean it would stop her from receiving a bullet to other fatal parts of her body, like her head. “Shiori-san!” Before he could stop himself, his lips had already crashed onto hers.

Shiori closed her eyes and her fingers wove themselves in his hair, pulling him closer.

When the sirens grew louder, Hachirō reluctantly released her. “We need to get you a medic.” He turned away, embarrassed with himself. He couldn’t believe that he let his emotions get the better of him. He stood by as he heard Captain Hijikata bark orders. He knew a lecture was going to be coming.

“Fucking Kaneko Shiori!” Captain Hijikata’s loud outburst could be heard throughout the warehouse. He stormed towards the pair. “Intel. All you had to do was observe!”

Shiori quietly lined up next to her partner, letting the Captain scold her. She knew she was in the wrong, and though they managed to capture an integral part of the drug ring, Takeda had escaped them.

“Now, go see a fucking medic. Don’t ever do dumb shit like this again, Kaneko.” Captain Hijikata dismissed them.

They both saluted him. “Yes, sir!” She bowed deeply.

Hachirō forced her to get her wounds checked out and bandaged, though she insisted they were mere scratches. He wasn’t hearing any of it, and he was personally taking her home.

After that kiss, she’d wanted to escape from him, but he wasn’t giving her a chance. The car ride to her apartment was a bit of an awkward one. Iba just had to be a gentleman and walk her up to the door. She didn’t want to face him or her feelings right now.

But when she turned back to thank him, her hands automatically reached for his cheeks, her lips meeting his.

She wasn’t going to let him go now.

Shiori managed to unlock the door without breaking their kiss for long. She gasped when she felt his fingertips slip under her tank top and draw small circles on her sensitive skin. “I-Iba…”

He stilled his hands, loosening his grip on her waist. “…About earlier…I’m sorry, Shiori-san…I…”

“Fuck it all, Iba. I want you, hell, I’ll admit it,I like you…” Her cheeks reddened as she looked up at him. “And like hell do you think you’re going to get away tonight.” She growled and tugged him down from the collar of his shirt.

“E-eh?” Her sudden confession had him both on cloud nine and rather confused. “Shiori-san?” Their kisses had been rather heated, so they were kind of past the point of talking it out….And he felt the same too…He never would’ve imagined it like this.

“Kiss me again, Iba.”

#Iba x Shiori #iba hachiro #hakuouki #oc #hakuoki #cop au #I wanna do more of these with them omg #I had fun with them #Souji x Chinatsu #Shinpachi x Etsu

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kitty-bandit · 6 years

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Creator Tag Meme 2017

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you’ve created this year (fics, art, edits, etc!) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2017. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original!) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

Tagged by: @kashyurio

Okay, I admit it. I couldn't pick JUST 5. I wrote SO much last year, but I really knocked it out of the park with Rare Pairs that I just couldn't leave any out.

Regardless, here's my list of fics I'm SUPER proud of. I know I'm missing Lost Time and Under the Maple Tree (which I'm amazingly proud of, don't get me wrong), but I figured I'd keep the fics confined to this list as ones that aren't chaptered. (Even though I threw in some series. XD)

Addicted (Part 3 of Sleeping with the Enemy) -- a Lucky (Tyki x Lavi) fic. Rated E. Canon-divergent. This was probably my absolute favorite installment of this series. I honestly went hard with this one, and ripped out my own heart in the process.

Sea Glass (Part 1 of Follow Your Heart) -- a Lavi x Link fic written for Rare Pair Week. Rated M. Modern AU/Summer Fling. I did not think I would fall for these two together, but here we are. This fic was basically borne of me just fucking around for Rare Pair Week and trying new things. I love Lavi to pieces and I wanted to see how he mixed with Link. Ta-da, now I'm hooked and this fic is huge, and has spawned a series that I'm still working on.

Dead Lovers -- a Lavi x Neah fic written for Rare Pair Week. Rated E. Vampire AU. Laven and slight Lucky is in this as well. I played with vampire lore in this and it was a delight. I honestly killed myself with this one. It was a pain to write, but it just ended up so right that I fell in love. I'm always down for that Allen x Lavi x Neah dynamic, and I basically took some of my thoughts on how that would work in canon and pushed that into my AU. Anyway, it's a freaking heartbreaker, so be warned.

Happiness is a Bed to Call Your Own -- a Laven fic written for Laven Week. Rated E. Modern AU. Excuse me, but my love of Laven shines through in this one. This is classic me, and I've written these boys like this for so long. Ahhh, it's a good sweet and smutty mix and it was perfect in my eyes.

Witty Fool, Foolish Wit -- a Lavi x Wisely fic written for Rare Pair Week. Rated E. College AU. HELLO WELCOME TO MY NEW LOVE. These two... were a pain in the ass to write together. But they worked so WELL. The give and take was so fun, and their sex scene ended up being really sweet (not at all what I had expected/planned for.) All in all, I would write them together again in a heartbeat.

Drawing Mercury -- a Lucky Poker (Tyki x Allen x Lavi) fic written for Rare Pair Week. Rated E. Modern Witch AU + Sex Magic. This was self-indulgent and I claim nothing less. XD I love writing these three, and they did NOT disappoint in this fic. I had a lot of fun writing it, even if it took me AGES to complete, and I even wrote it from Tyki's POV, which I have trouble with. Either way, it ended up perfect and I was so pleased with the result.

Tagging: Not tagging anyone rn because I'm super busy and have a lot to catch up on. But feel free to do this and say I tagged you! Or just do it and have fun! I don't mind either way.

#dgm #d gray man #laven #tyki x lavi #allen x lavi x tyki #lavi x wisely #lavi x neah #lavi x link #lucky #lucky poker #allen walker #lavi #lavi bookman #tyki mikk #neah d. campbell #wisely #howard link #kitty bandit writes fanfiction

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beautypoweranddeath · 7 years

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Dostoevsky, Desire, and Soullessness in Buffy the Vampire Slayer

This semester I wanted to do some work on nihilism, and one of the books my professor recommended I write on was Dostoevsky’s Demons. Since that sounded like a lot more fun than just writing on Heidegger or Nietzsche (both of whom I ended up writing on for another class anyway), I decided I’d pick up the novel. Now, this was my first time reading a Dostoevsky novel. I didn’t know what I was in for, or honestly what the novel was even about. However, I did know enough to print out a cheat sheet of character names so I wouldn’t get completely lost among the huge cast list in which everyone has their long Russian name, a title or two, and a patronymic. And on my list, next to Stavrogin’s name, it said “the main character”, and then simply: “has many of the characteristics traditionally ascribed to vampires”. My first thought was “wtf”, and then my second, Buffy-loving trash self’s thought was “awww yiss”. Little did I know I would be solving the dilemma of what the heck “having a soul” entails in the Buffyverse. Buckle up, folks.

I will be spoiling pretty much all of BTVS, sections of Angel, and most of Demons. I’ll touch briefly on some of the typical triggers for the Whedonverse, but plan to leave out the really triggery parts of Demons, i.e. Stavrogin’s written confession in the alternative censored chapter.

When Stavrogin is first introduced he seems to be a kind of mild-mannered society boy, except that he occasionally does very strange, kind of violent things, with absolutely no warning and for no apparent reason. He bites a diplomat’s ear at a fancy party. (This gradually turns into something of a meme within the community depicted in the novel. People are literally described as “ear-biters” when they behave strangely or unexpectedly. It’s hilarious.) He makes out with his host’s wife at a social gathering. And in both cases, when everybody’s shocked and horrified with him, he appears genuinely confused as to what all the fuss is about. His family decides he has brain fever, he gets medical care, and almost everyone figures he was just temporarily insane.

When Stavrogin returns later in the book, he’s seems to be cured - he knows how to behave in society, he’s not obviously breaking any rules, and there’s even a kind of chilling beauty to him. But then, there’s a chapter midway through the book, where Stavrogin converses separately with two wildly different characters. The first is a man who is dispassionately planning to kill himself, not because of any sadness, despair, or mental illness, but out of a French-existentialist-type belief that the man who rejects life as given to him makes himself a god. (“For three years I have been searching for the attribute of my divinity, and I have found it: the attribute of my divinity is – self-will! That is all, by which I can show in the main point my insubordination and my new fearsome freedom. For it is very fearsome. I kill myself to show my insubordination and my new fearsome freedom.”) The second man is one of the few good characters, an idealist who loves his country and recognizes that without God, Russia will always be lost. And it is revealed that both of these men received their worldview from talking to Stavrogin some years ago. But it wasn’t the case that he had changed his mind, believed that life is meaningless and suicide is power at one point, and that loyalty and love of God are great values at another point. He was talking to both men concurrently; he was married to neither belief, just saying things for the sake of saying them - he created both the sick apathy of the one and the hopeful idealism of the other, and even now doesn’t care either way. The good character finds this disgusting - can’t stomach that his hero who showed him beauty is also the same man who convinced the other to contemplate suicide - but Stavrogin can’t understand why the coincidence of the two opposites is seen as a betrayal.

This scene illustrates what Stavrogin’s character is meant to embody: absolutely indifferent freedom. He is capable of both great beauty and great evil, and stands undecided, apathetic between the two. The priest Tikhon reminds him of what the Bible says about this kind of neutrality: “I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth. For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” And the further we go into the story, the more the otherworldly, chilling beauty of Stavrogin just becomes unsettling. Nothing moves him, nothing motivates him to care. He stands between the characters who have very clearly given themselves to evil and the characters who are striving for the good, and somehow, he is scarier than all of them - more evil, somehow, than those who have deliberately chosen evil, because of his standing still.

But wait! you say. He stands in between goodness and evil, capable of both, able to choose either -- aren’t we all in that position? Isn’t that just what freedom means? Au contraire, my friends!! This understanding of neutral, indifferent freedom is fairly new in the history of thought, and hopefully I’m going to be able to demonstrate (briefly) why it doesn’t even adequately live up to our experience.

Imagine you are in the position of having to make a very simple choice between basically equal or at least comparable alternatives, what philosophy usually calls “commensurate goods”; an easy example is choosing between ice cream flavors. Now if you’re anything like as indecisive as me, there will be at least two options that you think you might want, and you’ll spend several minutes stuck between the two of them, trying to figure out which to get. You’re free - no one is coercing you, and the two options really are basically equal in and of themselves. But even though you are completely free, this state of indecision still isn’t comfortable - while you’re caught between choices, you probably feel restless, frustrated, rushed. This is because while black raspberry and mocha chip are basically equal among themselves, you don’t stand before them in neutrality. The phrase “getting pulled in two directions at once” maybe sounds a little melodramatic for an example this mundane, but it applies nonetheless: rather than standing absolutely still before the two options, you are getting pulled by both of them - the choice is hard because you want both of them, not because you’re apathetic. What moves and motivates the choice is desire, and desire doesn’t let you stand still unless you resist it; it tugs at you.

This bit might be a little tough, because in modernity we typically think of desires as things that well up from within us spontaneously - desire is seen as something starting in the person, projected onto the thing desired. But in classical philosophy, the shorthand for “desirability” is just “goodness” - when you say something’s good, what you mean is that it’s desireable - so desire starts in the goodness of the thing, not the perception of the one desiring. Setting aside sexual desire and all of the attendant baggage, just think about stuff in the world. Flowers, pets, ice cream - all this stuff is good, and your desire to have it around you is because the stuff is good, not because you randomly decided to assign value to it. Desire isn’t you sitting atop your indifference throne, looking over an assortment of blah things and pronouncing boredly while you wave a bejeweled hand, “I suppose I want that one”. Desire is the good thing yelling out to you, “HEY, LOOK HOW GREAT I AM”, and your soul coming alive in response, saying “GOSH DARNIT YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU ARE GREAT”. Goodness lives in the object, and desire is your ability to feel the goodness of the object reaching out to you, pulling you toward it.

So how does freedom work if you’re always getting pulled towards goodness, you ask? Well, get ready for the GREAT news: everything in the world...is good.

You don’t have to remake things so that they’re worth something. You don’t have to bestow value on things by the power of your choice. You don’t have to go searching for goodness, or come up with it yourself. It’s everywhere. It’s ALWAYS calling to you, out of everything that’s real. The reason that you’re free, and the reason that you’re not completely frozen in indecision, is that you are drawn into action by ALL the goodness in the world - your making a choice is just the final step in a movement already begun, your consenting to the desire which was enkindled by the object.

If, then, this is what real freedom is, what would it mean to be indifferently free, like Stavrogin?

Indifferent freedom, if the whole world is good and calling out to you, is like closing your eyes and covering your ears. It’s not neutrality - or rather, it is neutrality, but neutrality as detachment. It’s like if someone who loves you spent seven hours in the kitchen, painstakingly preparing your favorite meal, making everything from scratch and using the best china dishes and pairing the perfect wine with the meal - and then when they showed it to you, with all the steam rising from the food enticingly and the whole house smelling like heaven and home, you just shrugged and said “eh...I could take it or leave it”. That’s indifferent freedom - standing in front of beauty and love, and saying that it doesn’t matter one way or another. At its essence, it’s being unmoved - but by something that should move you. It detaches the person from the world, shuts them in on themselves where no thing and no goodness can reach them - and from the perspective of the person, it evacuates the world of goodness, of all its vitality and power to draw. Everything is equal, not because everything is equally good, but because everything is equally meaningless. This explains Stavrogin’s strange behavior - any of us at a party have the freedom to bite someone’s ear or not bite someone’s ear, both options are before everyone - but Stavrogin genuinely cannot tell why one of those options should have more weight for him, why the goodness of not biting someone should outweigh the debatable goodness of the amusement he would get out of biting someone.

It should be pretty clear where I’m going from here. It is my proposal that what it means to be soulless in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer mythos is explained by freedom of indifference. The vampires and the demons are essentially people who have become insensitive to the pull of goodness; all options, no matter how heinous, are equal to them, because the voice of desire has been stifled.

I like this theory for several reasons: one, I just like to imagine that Joss has read Dostoevsky. It’s funny to me. Two, I feel it explains more than any of the alternative theories I’ve seen or been able to come up with. So let’s go through the main players!

Alternative Theory #1: Vampires and other soulless creatures have a fundamental desire for what is evil.

This is the simplest explanation, and it’s definitely what the show in its early seasons professes to be the truth. However, there is a giant gaping hole in this theory: as evidenced by season after season of character development for Angel and Spike, and the creepy similarities between Vamp Willow and Dark Willow, there is a real continuity between a character when they have a soul and when they don’t. If the souled version and the soulless version had simply opposite desires, then they would be pulled in opposite directions and basically be two totally different people.

Alternative Theory #2: Everyone (or at least some particular individuals, including both vampires and humans) has a fundamental desire for what is evil, but having a soul keeps this desire at bay, like a stop-gap for humanity’s natural darkness.

Don’t get me wrong, this theory is more or less completely consistent with the show (“Orpheus” on Angel in particular seems to put forth something like this theory in regards Angel and Faith), but it’s a really hopeless view of the human person - and would also suggest that characters are most free and most “themselves” when they’re soulless. Unless you want to say that Angel with a soul is basically identical to Spike with a chip (like a serial killer in prison), there needs to be a change that goes deeper - if instead, as I propose, the most fundamental desire of human beings is for the good and losing your soul just dampens and confuses this desire without reversing it, this explains the continuity between souled and soulless while firmly locating the “real” identity of the person with the one who has a soul.

Alternative Theory # 3: Vampires and other soulless creatures have a desire for the good as always, but they are incapable of distinguishing good from evil.

This is another tempting explanation, except that it pretty much describes the human condition - it explains why Angel sometimes does the wrong thing, but not why Angelus is so markedly different from Angel - you have to explain the continuity and the difference. Angel occasionally does wrong things because he thinks he knows what the right thing to do is, is being drawn by the goodness he perceives, but happens to be mistaken. Angelus, on the other hand, seems to do the wrong thing knowing that it’s the wrong thing - but this knowledge is only in his head, it doesn’t extend to his heart, and so he’s not drawn by what he knows to be good and is able to cheerfully pursue what he knows to be evil as an equally viable alternative. Furthermore, if being soulless means you literally can’t tell the difference between right and wrong even in theory, Spike’s conversion in seasons five and six is completely and utterly inexplicable - it seems like he should have been showing up at Buffy’s doorstep with offerings of stuff he’s killed, like a cat, growling that his gift is going unappreciated. In reality, although he does suck at doing the right thing because the good still isn’t attractive to him, and although he expects way more credit than he actually deserves for every act of non-evil, he has a pretty straightforward turnaround - he knows basically which direction to face on the spectrum of good and evil, even while soulless.

So now that we’ve run through the alternatives, let’s look at some helpful examples from canon which I think illustrate my theory!

Possibly the best example of my theory is on Angel the Series, which is surprising, because for all its lightness that show typically has a much more pessimistic view of anthropology and soteriology than Buffy does. However, Darla’s pregnancy is one of the most interesting uses of the soul/no-soul device in the entire ‘verse. Darla starts to experience souled-ness as a result of the proximity to her son - and while this demonstrates next to no knowledge as to how matter and form, body and soul work, it leads to the fantastic moment of self-awareness: “I won’t be able to love him. I won’t even be able to remember that I loved him.” She has no illusions. Love is not a choice that she can continue to make once she’s no longer experiencing souled-ness - she can’t pull herself up by her bootstraps, love by sheer force of will. The pull of love that she feels comes from him and not from her, it is his goodness touching her. Once she gives birth, goodness will lose its grip on her and she’ll detach absolutely from her child; he will mean nothing to her, and there is no guarantee that she won’t hurt him. It’s not her choice to make - without the drawing power of his goodness, she is helpless to make the right choice.

Another really interesting example is the parallels drawn between depression and soullessness. Spike tells Buffy she “came back wrong”, and she’s immediately ready to believe him, because it is the same lie that depression is telling her. Depression silences our desires, shuts us in on ourselves, convinces us that there is nothing truly good in the world for us. Depression makes us indifferent, when that is not our natural, healthy state of being. Buffy’s journey in season 6 is a slow regaining of desire, from “this isn’t real but I just wanna feel”, then to “I don’t wanna die, that’s something right?”, and finally to “Things have really sucked lately, but it's all gonna change. And I wanna be there when it does. I want to see my friends happy again. And I want to see you grow up….There’s so much I wanna show you.”

The most obvious hole in my indifferent freedom theory is the lack of absolute apathy in the vampires, i.e. Spike famously being described by James Marsters as having “delight in all the wrong things”. The vampires seem to enjoy things, particularly, to enjoy being evil and inflicting pain. However, on the other hand, Angel tells Darla (I’m paraphrasing), “you took me places and showed me things and blew the top off my head, but you never made me happy”. Vampires are seeking something - notoriety, a rush, power - but it’s not satisfying. In the end, Spike’s delighted obsession with slayers and Angelus’ cruel pursuit of the girl he remembers loving are just a slightly more hyper version of Stavrogin quietly doing whatever happens to cross his mind just because he can. And if a disproportionate number of vampires seem to lean towards inflicting pain, this statistic can probably be explained by the fact that they need blood to live - and all options being equal, you may as well pick the one that keeps you comfortably undead. Or, perhaps all their desire for the good has been replaced by desire for blood, and it’s only everything else in the world that is neutral? This would explain why “vampire with a soul” is such a difficult idea for everyone to grasp - they still need blood to live, and yet their desires are in order again. (If we delve deeper into the Dostoevsky, there’s also a whole thing with beauty being replaced by the shocking, the absurd, or the grotesque. But seriously, this essay is monstrously long already.)

Another possible objection: wouldn’t this schema make having a soul the easier option, to the extent that it’s basically a cheat? Wouldn’t it be more worthy, more impressive, more good, to choose out of a vacuum, without desire pulling you? To which I would respond: of course it’s easier, but that doesn’t mean it’s less worthy. We have a weird obsession with doing difficult things; we glamorize the long arduous struggle before the right choice is finally made - and in storytelling, that makes a certain amount of sense, since if everyone did what was right instantaneously, there wouldn’t be much of a story. But our preference for the difficult good thing over the easy good thing is also coherent with our typical conception of freedom: if indifferent freedom is about raw choosing power that wells up from within, the “stronger” person is the one who chooses what is difficult, i.e. the tortured hero presented with the impossible dilemma in a world of moral grays, gritting his teeth and saying, I’m choosing so hard right now. But within a goodness and desires-based theory of freedom, it isn’t the struggle that makes good action heroic. On the contrary, real goodness is easy - ease is actually one of the traditional qualities ascribed to virtue. The truly good person does the right thing consistently and easily while taking joy in it, without having to deliberate about which choice is best. They’re so good at doing the right thing that it’s practically effortless, automatic. Somebody who has to struggle to do the right thing is on the path towards virtue - they know what the right thing is, and they’re trying to do it - but if it’s difficult for them, that means that they haven’t become internally convinced of the goodness/desirability of the right thing, they’re only doing it because they think they ought to. The good character who chooses the light over the dark without any hand-wringing, the “cinnamon roll” if you will, is more morally heroic than Gritty Georg who makes 10,000 difficult morally gray choices per day. That guy is just really bad at doing the right thing, really bad at being in love with goodness. So while we can be kind of impressed by Spike choosing to save the world in season 2 and choosing to get his soul back in season 6, those choices are still not at the moral level of something as simple as, say, Buffy loving her sister.

Another objection: what about Spike falling in love with Buffy? Wasn’t he being drawn by her goodness, and therefore not totally indifferent even while he was soulless? And don’t get me wrong, this objection has weight - Spike’s arc in the last three seasons is fascinating, and I want to do justice to it. But a lot of theories about souls in the Buffyverse tend to do justice to his arc by a kind of “Spike exceptionalism”, and while that’s somewhat warranted, it makes the mythos of the show very messy and that drives me crazy. Plus, the more emphasis you place on Spike being a “special” vampire who loves goodness and tries to do the right thing, the more “Seeing Red” becomes a wholly unintelligible character moment, and I think it’s actually a very important conclusion to the season 6 Spuffy arc. So here’s my interpretation.

In order to truly love, your primary stance toward the other has to be a kind of “letting be” - you have to recognize that they are other than you and wonderful precisely in their otherness before you desire them for yourself, or else desire becomes merely appropriative, a matter of power and possession. Indifferent freedom (or soullessness) is not capable of this, because letting the other be is a receptive stance which prioritizes the being of the other, and indifferent freedom always prioritizes activity and the being of the self - all action has to start from within, nothing can move the person except the person himself, or else it isn’t considered “free”. There is no love, there is only power. So, Spike is genuinely indifferent all through his soullessness. If he has moments where he appears to love (his mother, Dru, Buffy, etc.), it’s because he remembers that this used to be a value that was important to him and therefore chooses it out of his position of neutrality. He isn’t brought out of himself, he doesn’t receive anything from the person he “loves” - and this is why his supposed loves are so warped. Beating up Druscilla until she loves him again is a coherent plan to him - because it’s not about wanting what’s best for her, and not about the way that his love for her pulls on him, but rather simply his possession of her. He can achieve love by power, because for him the two are identical - both have the same basic form of something initiated from within and exerted onto the chosen object. And this, of course, is why season 6 Spuffy ends the way it does. All of Spike’s actions toward Buffy have been calculated so that she would do what he wants, and when this fails his manipulation becomes overtly violent power - because power has been the inner form of his relation to her all along. Emotional manipulation fails to let the other be just as much as physical violence does; it is the bedrock of a relationship where one person only cares about being in control, getting what he “wants”. “Seeing Red” is important because it reveals the dark truth beneath the “edgy” season 6 Spuffy relationship, that power is not and can never be love, emotional abuse is not and can never be romantic.

So is this what Joss Whedon intended the soul plot device to be an analogy for? I’d have to rewatch the whole show to make a final decision, but I kind of doubt it. Do I have questions about how it would work, in-universe? You bet. Are people to be held accountable for decisions made when soulless? Why is it that Angel and Spike are overwhelmed with guilt when they’re re-ensouled and Darla and Anya are basically apathetic? What does the indifference of soullessness have to do with immortality? What is the nature of the slayer’s power? Much remains to be answered.

IN SUMMARY (i.e. I’ve burnt myself out and this is all you’re getting)

Any reading of the Whedonverse must account for soullessness in a way which allows for a real continuity and discontinuity between souled and soulless iterations of the same character, and doesn’t treat the soul as an extrinsic addition which does nothing more than restrain desires which are actually fundamental. This is the only way to locate the true self of characters with the good/souled version of them, while avoiding overly simplistic readings which treat a character’s soulless actions or personality as entirely irrelevant. In a world in which goodness really exists and really draws you, it is not possible to have a desire for evil except under the aspect of good, because desireability implies goodness. Thus, if we want to avoid a completely nihilistic interpretation of the show wherein nothing is really good and nothing matters, the form that evil has to take is indifference or neutrality rather than somehow a desire for evil as the “opposite” of good. And therefore, what it means to be soulless in Buffy the Vampire Slayer is to be in a state of diabolical neutrality, where goodness and love no longer call out to you and all action is just a result of sheer arbitrary power which can be directed one way or another. While soulless, characters are detached from goodness and therefore incapable of virtue and love. Effort or choice is not enough for conversion – they have to be taken hold of by something outside them, which is why re-ensoulment is necessary. You can’t create your own goodness by an exercise of power, it has to be given to you.

FIN

Note: this essay contains a necessarily simplified account of Stavrogin’s psychology and the picture of evil presented in Demons. Since Stavrogin is still only human, the indifference is less absolutized in him than it is in the Buffyverse vampires.

Further note: at a certain point, you just have to come to terms with the fact that Whedon’s soul/no soul system is sloppily constructed, and develops inconsistently throughout the show. There will be holes in any theory. I would be unsurprised to hear of any more holes in mine that I have not already anticipated.

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #Angel the series #dostoevsky #how to tag this nonsense #meta #eight single spaced pages of meta

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jade4813 · 7 years

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Jane Austen’s Iris

My (edited and completed) submission for Westallen At the Movies! The Flash in the style of modernized Emma, by Jane Austen. Some characters are jerks in this AU, but blame Jane Austen for requiring them to be!

Title:

Jane Austen’s Iris

Rating: PG

Synopsis: A Flash AU, inspired by Emma.

Acknowledgment: My thanks go out to @valeriemperez for help editing this story!

Chapters: 1/6

Dear Struck by Lightning

My best friend has been in love with someone else in our friend group for a while now (over a year), but she’s never gotten up the nerve to confess to her feelings. This is putting her through an emotional rollercoaster, but she won’t do anything about it! I know I promised her I would never tell him, but would it really be that wrong to drop him a few unsubtle hints? If it means the end of the secrecy, isn’t that better?

Trying to be Helpful

Dear Trying

While I certainly sympathize with the impulse, I have a question for you: Which is more important to you: your friend’s trust or your desire to get involved? I’m sorry to say this, but the only person who can get her off of this emotional rollercoaster is herself. I know you’re hoping that if you spill the beans with unsubtle hints, he’ll return her feelings, but what if he doesn’t? Not only will things be awkward between all three of you, but you’ll have shattered the trust of someone you describe as your best friend. Broken hearts mend faster than broken trust, in my experience.

As difficult as it is, sometimes you have to let your friends run their own lives. That said, for very good friends, you can certainly point out that there are only three options in this situation: doing nothing (with the knowledge that then nothing will change), rolling the dice and confessing her feelings, or trying to let him go and move on. She can continue to choose to do nothing, but doing nothing is in fact a choice.

As for you, you should respect her decision, but there’s nothing wrong with drawing lines for your own emotional wellbeing if you need to. What she does about her feelings is her choice. How long you can be (or are willing to be!) a shoulder to cry on if you know she’s never going to try to resolve her situation one way or another is yours.

“You know, when you look that pleased with yourself, I get worried.” Iris pulled her attention away from her computer and looked up at the opening of the door, smiling when she saw it was her old friend, Barry Allen. They’d been friends for as long as she could remember and had been bonded by affection if not blood for nearly as long.

She threw him most innocent expression, which she knew he wouldn’t buy for a second. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she protested.

As expected, Barry looked skeptical. “Uh huh.” He slid into the seat across from her and placed a slightly greasy bag on the table between them, scooting it around the edge of her laptop. “I brought you lunch.”

At the smell of hot fries, Iris’s stomach grumbled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that moment, so she snapped her laptop closed and shoved it aside with more force than was necessary as she made a hasty grab for the bag. She knew what she’d find before she even pulled it open. Two double cheeseburgers and fries – her favorite. “Barry, you’re an absolute lifesaver!” she cried.

Now it was his turn to look smug. “I know,” he admitted, snagging a fry as she pulled them out of the bag.

“Hey, those are mine!” she protested, yanking them away.

He snorted. “Like you won’t be stealing some of mine.”

She pouted and said in a low grumble, “That is hardly the point.”

They ate silently for a moment, and then Barry asked, “So, why did you look so pleased with yourself?”

“Mmm,” Iris began, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Mason just green lit my latest article.” When his eyes lit up, she hurried to interject. “That is, my Struck By Lightning article.” She’d been trying for a while to be allowed to write more serious pieces, but her editor had so far only allowed her to work on a few. As the most junior reporter at the paper, she still had dues to pay before he promoted her for good.

Barry knew how much she wanted off the obits and weekly romance column beat, but he didn’t let disappointment on her behalf show. Indeed, his smile didn’t slip an inch. “That’s great! I read your last one. Your advice to the girl whose family won’t accept her boyfriend was really good.”

She beamed. “Yeah, I think I might actually be pretty good at this. I mean, I did get Cisco and Caitlin together.”

He threw her a stern look, pointing a rapidly cooling fry in her direction. “That was luck.”

“That was a stroke of brilliance, you mean. Everyone swore it would never happen, and what do you know? They get back from their honeymoon today.” Her smile was more than a little self-satisfied. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I clearly have a talent for matchmaking. Maybe I should try it again.”

His expression fell, to be replaced by a look of genuine alarm. “Iris, I don’t think that’s a good idea–”

She wasn’t deterred. “Nonsense! Let’s see…who should I set up next?”

“I really don’t think–”

“There’s Wally, of course,” she began, heedless of his protest. “Though he doesn’t seem to have any problems finding a date. In fact, he could probably stand to slow down a little. Hm. What about yo–”

His lunch completely forgotten, Barry straightened abruptly. “No!” he practically yelped.

It took her a second to realize the source of his alarm, and she forced a smile even as her stomach twisted. She’d been about to ask if he had any single friends; she certainly wasn’t going to suggest setting him up with someone. She didn’t know why the very thought made her feel slightly sick, but she pushed that feeling aside. “I wasn’t going to say you!” she reassured him with a forced laugh. “It’s obvious you wouldn’t go along with it anyway.”

His shoulders sagged a little bit in relief, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a tight smile. “No, probably not. I’m not really interested in matchmaking.”

Iris regarded him closely, her eyes narrowed and her head cocked slightly to the left. “Are you sure?” she asked tentatively, “You know, you don’t date very often. Don’t you want to fall in love?”

Barry didn’t meet her eyes as he stood and grabbed their leftover trash, turning to throw it away. His voice was subdued as he replied, “I’m just waiting for the right person. When I find her, I’ll know.”

Iris looked back at her computer screen and dropped the subject. She didn’t know why the topic of Barry being in love made her uneasy, but she wasn’t enough of a masochist to press the issue. “Well, what about Julian?” she suggested in an attempt to change the subject, picking the first name that came to mind. After a second’s thought, she straightened. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea.

Her companion didn’t seem to agree with her. “Julian?” he repeated in astonishment. “Julian Albert?” She nodded. “We’re talking about the same guy, right? A little shorter than me, blond hair, allergic to the concept of joy?”

She was undeterred by his skepticism. “Maybe if he found love, he wouldn’t always be so grumpy,” she pointed out.

She could almost feel him rolling his eyes at her. “You’ve met him, right?” She rolled her eyes in return and shook her head, turning her attention back to her computer. The more she thought about it, the more the idea grew on her, but she still needed to find the perfect person for him. That would take some thought.

As her lifelong best friend, Barry could tell when the battle was lost, but he still tried one more time to get her to change her mind. “Iris, I know you mean well, but I still think this is a bad idea. Julian isn’t going to appreciate being set up, believe me. If you do this, I’m afraid someone is going to get hurt.”

Iris snorted. “Get hurt? Honestly, Barry. Knowing about love and relationships is kind of my job, at least at the moment. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see!”

A few days later, she was pretending to enjoy a cold cup of coffee at her desk after work when Linda Park approached and collapsed into a nearby chair. “Rough day?” Iris asked, though the expression on her friend’s face made the question more or less rhetorical.

“Don’t even get me started,” the other woman grumbled, kicking off her shoes to rub her aching feet. “You know, I love sports. In fact, that’s kind of my job. But when I’m doing my job, I wish I didn’t have to prove I actually know something about them all the damn time.”

Iris threw her a commiserating smile, which turned quickly into a speculative look. If she wasn’t mistaken, Linda was single. “You know what? I think you need a beer.”

“No, what I need is a margarita large enough to drown in.”

“Well, I know a good club nearby. Let’s go! If you don’t mind, I might call a couple of friends to join us!” Her mind was already racing as she tried to figure out how she could get Julian and Linda together. It perhaps wasn’t the most obvious of matches, but given their equal propensity for snarky, sarcastic comebacks, they might be perfect for each other.

Without a clue what she was walking into, Linda shrugged and grabbed her bag. “Why not?” she asked, slipping her shoes back on and standing with a wince. “The more the merrier!”

The place was packed, but the two women deftly made their way to the bar and ordered some drinks before Linda excused herself for a moment. Iris craned her neck, looking around at the crowd. She’d made a few calls on the way over and was fairly certain she’d convinced Barry to bring Julian by. However, since she knew he still wasn’t entirely on board with her plan, she wasn’t certain he would actually do so until she saw them cut through the crowd towards them.

“Hey!” she greeted Julian with a warm smile, causing his brow to furrow in mild confusion. They’d always been cordial, of course, but they’d never gotten to know each other enough to be overly friendly. “I’m glad you could make it!” Barry tried to throw her a warning look, but she ignored him, turning to wave the bartender over. “Let me get you a drink.”

“That’s all right,” he protested, stepping next to her. Once he’d ordered, he turned his attention back to her. “I was a little surprised at the invitation.”

She nudged him with her shoulder and teased, “Well, it occurred to me that we don’t know each other very well, and since you and Barry are friends –” that was something of an overstatement, “– we should get to know each other better! Speaking of which, let me introduce you to Linda Park.” She gestured to the woman who had taken position at the bar on Julian’s other side, and Iris took her impeccable timing as a sign. It was almost like destiny was helping her along, and she had to fight back the smile at the thought. “She works with me at CCPN, covering sports.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, turning to the woman in question with what Iris decided to consider genuine if subdued interest. “What’s your favorite sport to cover?”

Linda visibly braced herself for another challenge to what was both her passion and her profession and responded in a voice that edged on a dare, “Football. You a football fan?”

He shrugged slightly, though Iris could swear he offered the slightest ghost of a smile. “American football? Don’t know a thing about it, I’m afraid.” In the absence of a challenge, the tension seeped from Linda’s shoulders.

“There’s a game on this Sunday!” Iris interjected, inspired by a flash of brilliance. “You guys should come over to my place! We can watch it together! There’s nobody better to watch a game with than Linda,” she gushed, with such effusive enthusiasm that her friend looked at her askance. Iris’s interest in football had never been so marked before.

Julian considered her suggestion for a second and then nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “With an offer like that, how could I refuse?” he agreed, and for once, he didn’t sound the least bit disgruntled. As he and Linda engaged in conversation, Iris shot Barry a triumphant smile. Rather than compliment her brilliance, he just shrugged and muttered something she didn’t catch under his breath before walking off.

A short time later, Iris heard Barry call her name and looked around to see him gesturing for her to come over. She started to move towards him when Julian’s voice stopped her. “Can I buy you another drink?” She glanced back at him in surprise, having forgotten for a moment he was there. He looked from her to Linda, whose glass was still half full. “I would be happy to get something for you both.”

Was it possible he was nervous to be left alone with Linda? Could her plan be working so quickly? Buoyed by optimism, she said, “Maybe in a few minutes. I’ll be right back. Save me a seat?”

She and Linda shared a look that had the other woman glowering. “Subtle,” Linda mouthed behind Julian’s back. Iris just shrugged and walked away with an unrepentant grin. Linda might not be thrilled to be set up like this, but if the two of them fell in love, she would come to realize it was for the best.

When she approached Barry, he nodded towards the door. She tried to follow his gaze, but the crowd blocked her view. “Want a boost?” he offered, gesturing as if he planned to lift her, the corners of his mouth twitching with mirth.

“Ha ha,” she replied dryly, looking around desperately for another option. It would be beneath her dignity to have him pick her up; she’d never hear the end of it from him if she did. “You know, there was a time I was taller than you,” she reminded him.

“When we were ten, maybe,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her grab a nearby stool and pulled it closer so she could stand on the rung and look out over the crowd.

As reward for her efforts, she saw what had caught his attention. Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon had just come in. Their heads were bowed, the two of them lost in each other as they walked through the crowd. With as little attention as they paid to their surroundings, it was a miracle they were able to go anywhere at all.

Iris waved her arms in an attempt to get their attention and called their names, but they didn’t seem to hear. As her efforts grew more enthusiastic, her balance became more precarious. Just when she thought she might tip, she felt an arm go around her waist to steady her. “What would you do without me, Elf?”

She stuck her tongue out at Barry. “Have peace of mind?” she suggested in an innocent voice. “And don’t call me Elf.” One misjudged Halloween costume at age sixteen, and she’d never lived it down since.

He chuckled, then waved his free hand and called out his friends’ names. The two working together finally caught the attention of the newlyweds, who made their way over. When they were close enough, Iris cried, “Welcome back!” and hopped down to pull Caitlin into a tight hug. “How was the honeymoon?”

“It was wonderful.” Caitlin’s voice was as warm as her smile, though Iris noticed her gaze wandered towards her new husband, who was talking to Barry. “We almost didn’t want to come back.” The newlyweds shared a look, and Caitlin’s blush was visible, even under her mild sunburn. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that it probably wouldn’t have happened, if not for you.”

Her grin was irrepressible. “All I did was give the two of you a little push.” Well, several significant pushes, but who was counting? “The rest, you did on your own.”

“Well, thank you, regardless. He makes me,” she paused and looked over at Cisco again. Whatever reminder the sight of him brought to mind, her blush deepened, and she finished, “very happy.”

When the look between Cisco and Caitlin grew uncomfortably long, Iris coughed to discreetly remind her friend of her presence. It barely worked. “Anyway, not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Barry called us!” Cisco interjected, sliding next to his wife and resting his hand on the small of her back. “Though we may not be able to stay too long. We’re pretty jetlagged.”

Iris made a sound in the back of her throat as she shot her old friend a quick look. She figured his intent had been to call in reinforcements, that together they would talk her out of her matchmaking scheme. If so, he’d miscalculated. Seeing their happiness only strengthened her resolve.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I want to dance with the most beautiful woman here tonight.” He grabbed Caitlin’s hand to give it a quick tug. “Come on; they’re playing our song.”

She grimaced. “I’m not even sure what they’re playing qualifies as actual music!” she protested, but she didn’t resist as he led her out onto the floor.

“You know, they may be a while. We should wait for them at the bar,” Barry suggested, grabbing her hand and leading the way. She was a little disappointed, since she’d hoped to give Julian and Linda a little more time to get to know each other. On the other hand, she was dying of curiosity to see how things were progressing.

Much to her disappointment, when they did find Julian, he was alone. Iris was momentarily afraid that Linda had bailed, but her fear was allayed when she saw her phone, still on the bar, and was informed Linda had stepped away to the bathroom.

“Look who I found!” she exclaimed, showing Barry off to justify her absence.

“Sorry I disappeared on everyone. I ran into some old friends,” Barry explained, gesturing to where Cisco was mortifying his wife on the dance floor. Still, as embarrassed as she clearly was, she danced with him like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Following his gaze, Iris winced. “He really is the worst dancer in the world, isn’t he?” she murmured affectionately, just loud enough for Barry to hear.

“Clearly you’ve forgotten our senior prom,” he returned, causing her to snicker.

Julian followed their gaze and raised his eyebrows at the sight. “They’re friends of yours?” The question was rhetorical, his tone unreadable.

“Caitlin and Cisco. I’m sure I’ve mentioned them to you before.” Barry’s tone was light as he waved the bartender over. “They just got back from their honeymoon.”

His frown lifted, and his voice softened. ”Oh, the engineer and the doctor? I think you–”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Linda returned. The first thing Iris saw was her smile, which lit up the whole place. “Sorry I took so long. You wouldn’t believe the line to the restrooms! Oh, there’s my phone! I was looking for that!”

Iris went from wanting to see Linda and Julian interact to wishing she had her friend all to herself in a heartbeat. Her friend’s expression implied things had gone well in her absence, and she was dying for the juicy details.

She was still tamping down her overwhelming curiosity when the bartender came over. There was a brief flurry of confusion as orders were placed and Caitlin, having dragged her husband off the dance floor, all but collapsed against the bar and begged for an appletini.

For a man who had appeared to be suffering from full body seizures moments before, Cisco wasn’t even winded. “I’m driving, so I’ll have a soda.”

Caitlin frowned at him over her shoulder. “You sure? We could get a cab.”

“I like watching out for you. Besides, I’m hoping you find it sexy when I do.” She snorted, but the corners of her mouth twitched. Whatever she said in return was drowned out as the bartender called out to Julian over her head, indicating it was his turn.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Julian replied, waving the other man off and shrugging into his jacket.

“Oh, you’re not going, are you?” Iris asked, shooting a quick glance at Linda. Her friend was deep in conversation with Barry, her hands cutting through the air as she punctuated her story with emphatic gestures.

“I’m afraid I am,” he replied, offering her a slight smile. “I have an early appointment tomorrow, and I’m sure you want to catch up with your friends. Tell them I said congratulations.”

“Oh, but I’ll see you Sunday, right?” she asked, eager to continue her matchmaking scheme.

Julian grinned. “Definitely,” he reassured her. “I’ll see you then.” He bumped into Linda as he passed and paused long enough to say goodbye. Considering the entire evening a tremendous success, Iris turned to Barry to gloat. She couldn’t get his attention; he was too busy glowering at where Julian had disappeared in the crowd. With a huff of irritation, Iris pushed his obstinacy out of her mind and asked Caitlin and Cisco for more stories of their honeymoon instead.

#Westallen #Westallen At the Movies #westallenatthemovies #Iris West #Barry Allen #My fanfiction #Jane Austen's Iris #Fanfiction

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