#and as usual keys galore

[shiny-eyed-corvid]

(mostly) shiny things I found on the ground in NYC July-August 2024

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Found You First

Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff & humour with a slight side of angst. kind of a slow burn.

Word Count: 17K

Warnings: adult language. alcohol and food mentions galore. Hoshi meddles and creates more problems for everyone involved. reader’s size is not specifically mentioned, but Jihoon and she fit into each other’s clothes. one mention of “daddy” as a joke.

[best friends to lovers!AU] For years you’ve hated Valentine’s day, convinced you’d never find a love worth celebrating. Maybe this year you’ll see that what you needed has been right in front of you all along.

♡ This fic is a part of @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab! Please check out the other writer's works as well! They're all so good and we've all worked so hard!! ♡

[Still don’t know what to get your loved-one for Valentine’s day? We’ve got you covered!]

You stared at your phone, almost praying it would blow up and disappear along with the message. Unfortunately, you still needed your phone and the universe knew it. You sighed and deleted the message.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitter every February if the world was a little kinder to single people. After all, at least half the people in the world must be single – whether by choice or not. And yet it seemed that everything in the world was keen on reminding you of how entirely single you specifically were, your sister included.

She all but wrestled the phone out of your hand. “That’s it. I’m signing you up for dating apps.”

“Please don’t,” you replied with only half your usual annoyance and enthusiasm. Maybe a part of you thought this was exactly the push you needed. 

Already nose-deep in the app store, she didn’t even bother to pretend to hear you. 

“This one has good reviews–” she mumbled to herself as if it was her phone all along.

You only hugged a cushion to your chest and stared at the TV. Whatever romantic film your sister had chosen to watch today was not helping your problem. 

“What’s the point? Maybe Soonyoung’s right.”

“Who?” She finally glanced up.

“Soonyoung.”

She blinked. “Is this Soonyoung cute?”

“Can you please stop trying to set me up with every guy you hear about?” You rolled your eyes. “He said that the key to finding love is to first love yourself.”

“That’s, like, basic philosophy,” she replied easily and turned back to your phone. “I need your email and a password– Oh, wait, I can just make something up.”

You were fairly certain she wasn’t listening to a word you were saying but you were past the point of caring. At least talking to a person who isn’t listening is a (small) step above talking to the lonely snake plant on your windowsill. 

“Maybe I should take some time to just find myself,” you contemplated out loud. “I could try a new hobby. Or a new style. Find new books to read. Maybe then I won’t even care that I’m single.”

Still not looking up from the app she had newly installed on your phone, your sister hummed. “One of my friends did say that fictional boyfriends are better than real ones.”

So maybe she was better at multitasking than you had thought.

You put the cushion away and leaned closer to her. “What are you doing on my phone anyway?”

Proudly, she turned the device for you to see. “Ta-da! Your first ever dating app profile!”

A shiver of fear ran up your spine. “You signed me up for a dating app?”

“And you’re not allowed to delete it until you find a boyfriend,” she declared. “And if you do, I’ll just download it again.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Whatever,” she laughed and handed you back the phone, picking up her own from the coffee table. “Oh, I should get going.”

You couldn’t help but pout. “Already? Why?”

She rolled her eyes and went to pull on her coat. “Because, unlike you, I have a boyfriend who wants to take me out on a date. In fact,” she was practically beaming and you felt the ugly green tentacles of jealousy crawling up your leg already, “he’s taking me on a date every day until Valentine’s day.”

A pause. With a startle, you soon realised she was expecting you to cheer for her. You tried to find words that weren’t as bitter as you were feeling. “Oh, that’s so sweet of him.”

It was the right answer. She actually squealed as she confirmed, “Right? He’s such a romantic.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper as she leaned closer to you over the back of the sofa. “I think he’s going to propose on the big day.”

You almost sighed in despair. “I hope so! You deserve that ring.”

“You are so right,” she agreed and opened her mouth to say something more when the door suddenly opened. 

You tilted your head to see who had intruded. It was Jihoon, black hat covered in white snow and a takeaway bag in his hand. He blinked at the sight of your sister before smiling and waving. “Hi. I didn’t know you had visitors.”

“I do have friends other than you, Hoon,” you informed him. “Also, I do have a working doorbell.”

He gave you a funny look. “And I have your spare key.”

It was clear you had made a mistake when you awarded him the honour. Now you were stuck dealing with him even when you didn't want to.

“I’ll leave you two,” your sister announced and left, not before whispering something in Jihoon’s ear in the passing.

Jihoon’s ears turned red as he cleared his throat and set the takeaway bag on the table. 

“What did she tell you?” you asked him with a groan. You knew your sister better than anyone – there was no way she hadn’t told him something so embarrassing you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes for weeks to come. “Lay it on me.”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” His reply was just a little bit too quick and wavering, but you decided to let it go this once. “I brought you some leftovers.”

You raised a brow. “Leftovers?”

“They ordered too much food to the studio today, so I brought you the extras,” he told you almost timidly, gesturing to the bag like it was no big deal and had required zero thought from him. He was a strange man but maybe that’s why you liked to keep him around. “Can’t let the good food go to waste. Besides,” his eyes seemed sharp all of a sudden, “have you eaten at all today?”

He didn’t need an actual answer – you both knew the truth.

“I’ll be sure to savour it,” you told him with a joking salute. “Want to join me for a movie?”

His nose scrunched up at the mention. “I wish. I promised to help Seungkwan set up for the party tonight.”

Right. The party. Seungkwan’s “Jeonghan’s party”. In three hours. You had forced yourself to forget about it. 

Jihoon pursed his lips in thought, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “But we could always pretend we got kidnapped by a serial killer.”

“Sounds like too much work.”

“We escape to Iceland, become anonymous sheep herders and no one ever hears from us again,” he then suggested, snapping his fingers for emphasis and raising his brows as he waited for your reaction.

But as tempting as that sounded… “Seungkwan would find and skin us in fourteen days flat.”

He groaned and threw his head back. “Then I guess we have no choice. We must commit a crime so vile they give us a life sentence.”

“He’d just bring the party to the jailhouse,” you laughed. “And we wouldn’t even be able to sneak out.”

He took a deep breath and straightened back up. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Just plain suffering it is then.”

You glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to fake our deaths.”

Jihoon snorted a laugh. “You just said that pretending to get kidnapped would be too much work.”

“Faking deaths is different! Or! We could summon a freak storm that would leave us stranded here,” you suggested. 

“How?”

“I’m sure there’s a good Youtube tutorial somewhere.”

He giggled at the idea. “You really don’t want to go to the party, huh?”

You could only sigh and wish for the plush green fabric of the sofa to swallow you whole. “There’s definitely going to be so many couples there, all dressed in matching outfits and giggling and making out. And I’ll be all lonely and miserable, quietly downing all of Seungkwan’s wine.”

When you looked at Jihoon, he was smiling at you almost fondly. He was silent for a while. Then he spoke again, “I’ll keep you company. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not the same,” you whined like a little brat even as his promise made you feel a tiny bit gooey and soft inside. 

“I’m sorry?” He just laughed again and shook his head, the remnants of snow falling onto the floor. “I’m bringing those muffins you like so much.”

You felt yourself perk up immediately. “Muffins? Why didn’t you just say so?”

He laughed harder but said nothing else as he turned and left. You would’ve been upset if you didn’t know him better. 

Your phone chimed with a new notification. 

[Claim your Valentine’s day coupon now and surprise your partner with a free tour of the museum!]

You groaned but didn’t delete the message.

[HOON: if you want to match with someone, I’m wearing red today]

You groaned harder and shut off your phone.

It wasn’t that you actually disliked these parties. You quite liked them, really. Seungkwan had figured out the perfect balance of socialising, snacks and music. It was a joy to be present, hanging out with your friends as you forgot about the problems of the week. 

The only problem was that ever since Seungcheol and Chan had introduced the idea of an annual friendly “Party King” competition, the number of parties you were gently blackmailed to attend had doubled. And, frankly, your social battery was due for an upgrade that never came.

You suspected the same went for Jihoon.

Clad in his dark red hoodie, he joined you on the sofa the moment his eyes caught yours. Sipping his soda and softly singing along to the music, he completely ignored your personal space and made himself comfortable by your side.

“No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend,” Seungkwan joked when he walked past the two of you, a box of party games in his arms. His smile was blinding as he told you, “Your guard dog’s going to scare all of the guys away.”

You blinked in confusion. He nodded to your side. Following the gesture, you found yourself face to face with Jihoon. A groan left your mouth.

“What?” Jihoon wondered. 

“Seungkwan says you’re the reason I’m single.”

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the fact. “Well, if they want to date you, they have to impress me first.”

You almost felt a little fond of him, appreciating his protectiveness. But you also knew your Jihoon and you knew he wasn’t finished yet.

Under your warning eyes, he took a sip of his soda before smirking. “God knows you wouldn’t recognise a red flag if it slapped you in the face.”

Glancing down at his clothes, you snorted a laugh. “You’re literally dressed as a red flag yourself. I should be avoiding you of all people.”

“No, I’m just warning other people that you are a red flag,” he replied effortlessly, cutting your laugh short. Sensing he was now in real, actual danger, his eyes widened. “That was a joke. Just a joke. I’m sorry–”

You smacked him upside the head and shook your head. “Did someone mix alcohol into the soda? You’re so mean today.”

He blinked once. Twice. Looked into his soda cup. And then cursed. “I knew it tasted funky! Yoon Jeonghan!”

You could only laugh harder as he jumped up from the sofa and ran into the kitchen with fury that could not be matched. Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. Which is precisely why you hardly drank anything at these gatherings. 

Jihoon returned less than two minutes later, two unopened colas in hand. There was still an attitude to his foot stomps and a glint of annoyance in his eyes, but he opened one of the cans before handing it to you like he always did. 

“Not even Jeonghan can tamper with closed cans,” he reasoned almost bitterly. “Who mixes vodka into soda?”

“Lots of people,” you told him with a chuckle and a gentle pat to his shoulder. “It’s called mixing a cocktail.”

He rolled his eyes. “Rude of them to not consider people who don’t drink alcohol.”

“Kind of like it’s rude of them to not consider the single people here,” you half-joked in camaraderie. “Have you noticed they’ve only been playing love songs tonight?”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “Have they?”

You nodded towards the speakers that were blasting Love Me Right. “The last two songs were Lover and Steal the Show.”

He grimaced. “There’s still 12 days left until Valentine’s day. Are they insane?”

“Probably.” You rested your legs onto his lap. “I guess I’ll just be extra bitter and lonely this year then.”

“No shot at romance?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “You literally just said you’re wearing red to warn others how much of a red flag I am. And now you want me to find romance?”

“I have mixed feelings about you dating,” he told you honestly – a little too honestly, if the red tint of his ears was anything to go by. He cleared his throat. “I should start checking the drinks for alcohol before I drink them.”

Pretending not to notice, you took a sip of your cola. “I keep thinking about what Soonyoung said yesterday. About loving myself before I can find someone.”

“Isn’t that just social media nonsense?” Jihoon wondered quietly, resting his free hand on your knee. His thumb rubbed little circles onto your skin, comforting you.

“What if he’s right?” you continued. “What if I love myself so little that I simply cannot be loved?”

Frowning, Jihoon let out a sharp noise of protest. The gentle touch of his thumb turned into a warning pinch between his fingers. “You are loved! Who put this dumb thought into your mind?”

“... Soonyoung?” 

“I’ll beat him up on Monday,” he half-heartedly promised, a heavy look still on his face. Softening his voice, looking straight into your eyes, he spoke, “Don’t you dare think you cannot be loved. You are loved.”

“By whom?”

He looked away and didn’t say. 

“Whatever,” you sighed once the silence became too much. The speakers began playing Die With a Smile. You sighed once more. “Can’t they play something less romantic? I’d kill for a dumb, mindless party song right now. Do you think you could ask Jeonghan to play something else? He scares me–”

But it seemed that Jihoon was still stuck on the last topic. “What are you doing for Valentine’s day this year?”

“... Aside from crying myself to sleep after watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before for the 15th time?”

“You don’t think you love yourself enough to be loved by someone else,” he echoed your earlier words, his eyes stuck on something in the distance, “so why not change that? Treat yourself to something good this year. No sad movies and ice cream,” he finally looked at you again, “just do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

You knew he was right – he always was right. “But it’s boring to do that alone.”

“Then I’ll come with,” he decided after a moment of thought. A small smile appeared on his face. His thumb finally resumed its circles on your knee. It was sweet. Until he opened his mouth again, repeating the words playing on the stereo: “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

To the sound of his giggles, you snorted and slapped his hand away. “You’re awful.”

“I’m serious–”

“Aren’t you two just the cutest!” Jeonghan interrupted your banter with a childish pout on his rosy lips as he leaned against the wall across from the table. Soonyoung was smiling brightly at his side. “Are you dating yet?”

You wondered if he was done asking that at every party yet. It’s not like it was ever going to change (no matter how much he, Soonyoung, and your mother hoped it would).

Jihoon sat up, narrowed eyes settling on Jeonghan as if he was the devil himself. “Did you mix vodka into the soda?”

“Maybe,” came the reply with a shrug and a wicked giggle. 

“I could get you a boyfriend for Valentine’s day,” Soonyoung suddenly said, his brown eyes set on you. There was that glint of mischief again. You realised you feared this man more than you feared bears, and not for the usual reasons.

Even so, you laughed. “Soonyoung, if you were any good at being a wingman, Jihoon wouldn’t be single right now. In fact, you’re, like, the number one reason why he’s single.”

Forgetting his own argument with Jeonghan, Jihoon seemed to take offense to your statement. He let out a noise of hurt before pinching your knee once again.

“Au contraire, my friend,” Soonyoung argued and leaned so close that you could smell the raspberry-flavoured liquor in his breath, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You raised a brow. “Remember, just last week you told a girl Jihoon’s not into women when she asked if he was single.”

“I was drunk,” he told you, wearing a mask of nonchalance. “I don’t remember much from that night.”

“Or the time I got a girl’s number but you stole it and dropped it in the pool,” Jihoon pointed out with a smile that seemed almost venomous. You had no doubt he’d hold that mishap over Soonyoung’s head for the rest of their lives – you almost hoped he would.

Soonyoung had the decency to look a little deflated at the mention, at least. But even so there was no stopping him. Mumbling under his breath, he repeated himself, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You shared a look with Jihoon and mutually decided to forget this exchange.

When you were sixteen, Jihoon’s dad let you in on a little secret. He had peeked out of the kitchen to make sure his son wouldn’t hear and then he’d told you that Jihoon had set his phone up so that he would never miss your calls. He thought it was the most adorable thing, and so did you. 

You hadn’t even realised your phone’s Do Not Disturb setting had an option to do so but suddenly you were giddy, excited to set your phone up in a similar manner. And when you didn’t quite manage to figure it out, you decided to compromise and just make his ringtone the loudest one you could find. It worked just the same for you.

You’ve had many phones since then, but the ringtone never changed. 

Though you were no longer sure if it was the obnoxiousness of the ringtone itself or the muscle memory of answering so many calls from him late at night, it never failed to wake you up when he needed you. 

Once again you woke up to the noise, hand automatically reaching for your phone even though your eyes were still closed and your mind was still halfway lost in dreamland. 

“Jihoon?” you mumbled his name as if his ringtone hadn’t been burnt into your memory.

The other line was silent for a moment. Then you heard a soft sigh. “Sorry. Did I wake you up again?”

“No,” you lied, dragging the vowel out as much as you could to loosen up your vocal cords. “What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare, stress or boredom?”

“... All three?”

“You have to pick one.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He groaned but it was soon followed by a soft laugh. “Do you remember when we were kids and I threw that ball into Mr Yang’s window?”

Weird change of topic, you thought, but Jihoon did love to reminisce. So you humored him. “You mean the time he yelled at you so hard that you cried?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And then you told me he deserved to have his window broken. And you built a pillow fort in your closet for me to hide so my parents couldn’t find and scold me.”

“It had world-class security,” you joked. “Buddy and I were a trusty team.”

But it was like he hadn’t heard your interjection, too lost in his own memory book. 

“You hid in there with me and hugged me when my mom came to get me,” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You know, she wasn’t even that mad at me. I only had to do the dishes for a week.”

“You were just a kid and she knew that,” you spoke so softly that you wondered if he even heard you this time. The shared memory of the day ran in front of your eyes. It was a simpler time but even back then you had been ready to do anything for him.

Silence engulfed the two of you, only the gentle static of the phones reminding you of the other still being there. Ten whole minutes went by like this and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“I should go to sleep,” you spoke low in case he really was asleep. “I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

He hummed. “Why?”

“I’m going to a museum and I want to leave by 10. So I should get up before 9. And it’s already almost 3 am, so you know…”

“Since when is 9 am early?” he half-joked before suggesting, “Just go later.”

“I’m a woman of principles, Lee Jihoon. When I have plans, I see them through.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Liar. Remember that novel you said you were going to write?”

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence, “and you have no proof.”

His laugh sounded like he was sitting right next to you. You silently thanked the wonders of modern technology. 

As you prepared to say good night, you heard his voice again. “You remember the thing Soonyoung said yesterday? About finding you a boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “You don’t think he was serious about that, right? He was just joking, being Soonyoung.”

“Right. Right…” He sounded distant again, like he was in a daze, as he spoke, “Do you think– Have you ever wondered if—” He groaned and you could practically see him scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. Sleep must be sneaking up on me.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath. It came out in a not entirely genuine laugh. “Maybe we should both go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “You’re right, like always.”

“Always?” you teased.

“... Well, maybe not always.”

“You can’t take it back now,” you whined through laughter. “You almost never compliment me or my choices.”

He took a breath like he was about to say something. But nothing came out. Only a sigh. Then the phone call ended without another word – the way Jihoon liked it.

You rolled over to your side, reaching to put your phone away again when it buzzed. The screen lit up with a message. 

[Hoon: if I complimented you and all of your good choices, it would take forever.]

Crawling out of the comfort of your bed on one of your few days off, you wondered if the art of loving yourself was really worth the effort. 

As usual, half an hour was spent on reading the news and watching videos you weren’t entirely interested in. Another half an hour went by as you stared at the ceiling and contemplated your life decisions until you finally found the willpower to shower, get dressed, and eat a quick breakfast.

By 10, you were starting to feel like a human-being again, so you grabbed your keys and bag, and you walked out of your apartment. 

“You said you wanted to leave by 10,” Jihoon’s voice nearly shocked you into running back to your room. He was the dictionary definition of nonchalance as he stood in front of your door, barely even lifting his head, trying to read something off his phone. “It’s already 10:04, slowpoke. Are you ready to go yet?”

You stared at him for a while. Why was he here? Had you invited him along? No, you were sure you hadn’t. And then your jaw dropped as his words sunk in. “You’re the reason I stayed up until 3!”

“And to make up for it, I already sacrificed my arm by cleaning the snow off your car. You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

He never once looked up from his phone as he headed back down the stairs. You could only laugh in disbelief and lock your door before following after him. 

“Why are you here anyways?” you finally asked when the two of you reached your car which had, indeed, been brushed clean of snow. “I was going to go alone.”

Jihoon shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored and just invited yourself along?” You wished you had that kind of audacity. 

The car seemed to be colder than the weather itself. You involuntarily shivered as you pulled the door closed behind yourself. Jihoon let out a noise of complaint as he settled into his usual spot in the leather passenger seat. Envy filled you as he adjusted himself and burrowed further into his warm fleece jacket. 

In an act of something akin to revenge, you tossed him your phone. “Read the directions. If I miss a turn because of you, I’m making you pay for my coffee.”

“Yes, captain,” he joked and turned the heat up to the maximum. One could only pray that your car’s battery would survive the trip. “Are we making any stops on the way?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You really weren’t. It was just a 70-minute drive to the museum – adding to the duration really wasn’t on your bucket list – but knowing Jihoon, not stopping for snacks was simply not an option. The deepening pout and his wide eyes were enough indication that you were right to assume so – he only ever used his cuter side to win. A deep sigh bubbled in your throat. Through gritted teeth you spoke, “But I suppose we could squeeze in a quick stop.”

He let out the tiniest cheer and happily gave the first instruction: “We need to go right, turn left at the intersection and then–” A noise of curiosity. “A Hyunjin wants to know if you have any pets? I guess?”

You frowned. There wasn’t a single Hyunjin you could think of. “Hyunjin?”

“That’s what it says,” he told you with a shrug. “He also wants to know how you feel about… ferrets.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was about. “Just ignore it. Where to next?”

“Uh,” he vocalised, “right again.”

“Why did we even turn left then?” 

He chuckled. “I’m just telling you what the app says.”

“Whatever. Next?”

“Just keep going straight. We should reach the highway in, like, fifteen minutes.” 

Fifteen minutes straight through the busiest part of the city? You regretted your museum plans already. Should’ve just stayed at home and watched Youtube the whole day. There was a sneaking suspicion that even if you had watched traffic camera livestreams, you would’ve seen fewer red lights.

While you painstakingly stared at the lights, praying for them to turn green already, you noticed Jihoon happily scrolling through your phone. Your hand rose and somewhat forcefully landed on his thigh in a warning gesture. “Stay out of my private messages, creep.”

“Why would I want to read your private messages?” he half-joked and made a face that made you roll your eyes. “By the way, your mom said to bring tiramisu cake to dinner on Friday.”

Defeated, you sighed. “Tell her I’ve got it covered. What’s the occasion?”

“She wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re chatting with her right now?”

He smiled at you like it was obvious. “She’s my mother too.”

“Stop. That’s gross.”

“Also, who’s Andrew?” he then asked, smile dropping.

Another name you weren’t sure could be associated with yours. “Who?”

“An Andrew Johnson,” he slowly read the screen. “He wants to know what your favourite colour is.” His head whipped up just as you pressed the accelerator. “What’s with all these weird chats? You don’t seem to know these people?”

Desperately, you tried to recall a Hyunjin or an Andrew. You had no recollection of either. And somehow the list only seemed to grow with Jihoon calling out a new name and question at what felt like every minute: “Jongho just sent the cringiest pick-up line I’ve ever read”, “Joshua wants you to know that you have a typo in your profile”, “Minjae asked if you prefer walks on beaches or forest hikes”. 

Each notification made you more confused than the one before and soon you felt your brain would melt.

You finally had enough of the confusion when he said, “Turn right. I want a burrito. Also, Chanyeol says you look hot in your profile picture.”

“What profile picture?” you nearly cried out as you slammed the brakes in front of the gas station. “What is going on?”

Jihoon looked just as disheartened and puzzled as you felt, if not even more so. He unbuckled his seatbelt like it had been trapping him and threw your phone back to you for inspection like it was burning hot. He was already halfway through the door when you caught your bearings again. “You want anything?”

“Just a coffee,” you told him, barely paying half a mind to the conversation as you scrolled through your notifications. 

You barely noticed he left when you tapped on one of the notifications showcasing an unfamiliar name, a message and a photo of a handsome man. The screen opened on an app you had barely any recollection of ever downloading. A familiar ‘swipe left or right’ homescreen made you groan and shut your eyes as you locked the phone and tried your hardest to pretend this wasn’t real. 

Minutes passed in blissful almost-ignorance. You felt at almost-peace. It was almost nice.

Until Jihoon arrived once again, two burritos, a water and a coffee in hand, and a scowl on his face. 

“Did you figure out who those guys are yet?” he asked and for a moment you thought he sounded bitter. 

You didn’t have any sighs left in you, so you just grabbed a burrito and the coffee. “Yep.”

He raised a brow while he silently took the burrito back and handed you the other one instead. “So?”

You frowned at his actions. “Did you just swap the–”

“You wouldn’t like this one,” he said and took a pointed bite out of the burrito. “So, the mystery men?”

There it was: the last sigh you could force out of yourself. It didn’t feel anywhere as freeing as you hoped it would. “My sister got a hold of my phone the other day and downloaded a dating app. I think she might’ve messaged a few guys she thought I’d like.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.” You barely understood his words with his mouth so full of food. 

“I don’t really believe in dating apps working, you know,” you told him honestly and took a bite of your own burrito. Your eyes closed in bliss – you should’ve trusted Jihoon’s judgement from the start. “This is so good.”

“I know,” he replied with a knowing half-smile that disappeared as fast as it appeared. “If you don’t believe in the app, just delete it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Made a promise to not uninstall it.”

Your phone made the executive decision to light up with another notification just then. Jihoon tilted his head to read it and carefully voiced out the message: “Seungho says your eyes look as pretty as the starry night sky– Okay, that’s just cheesy.” 

Brows furrowed and nose scrunched up in disgust, he grabbed the phone, unlocking it with ease (you had only half a memory of ever giving him the password), and scrolled through the apps until he found the culprit. 

“I’m uninstalling it,” he told you when he felt your curious eyes on him. 

Your eyes widened at their own accord. “You can’t. I promised my sister–”

“Lucky for you, she’s not my sister,” Jihoon says as he swiftly uninstalled the app and brought peace into your life once again. His frown turned into a proud smile as he handed the phone back to you. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused. “Did you really just–?”

“Anything for you.” He said it with the uttermost seriousness. “If she tries that again, tell her she’ll have to deal with me first.”

Shaking off the odd wave of appreciation you felt for this man – your best friend, you reminded yourself –, you settled back down in your seat. You stared out the window for a while, slowly devouring your burrito. 

Head whipping around to stare at him in disbelief, you jolted upright again. “Wait, so my mom is your mom, but my sister is not your sister?!”

He was too busy enjoying his food (and accomplishments) to ever reply.

The banners of the café were mocking you.

Bright reds and pinks snickered as you walked past. Papers cut into perfect little hearts flew past your head, giggling as if they were better than you.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” they all said, side-eyeing you while you resisted the urge to commit your first arson. 

“When was the last time you ate something other than candy?” is all that Jihoon said in reply when you told him such. 

You spared a glare at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “You just tend to get a little…” he hummed in thought, glancing up at the sky as if he was expecting a dictionary to drop from a cargo plane any second now, “imaginative when you’ve had too much sugar.”

“I’m always imaginative.”

“It was not a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes in response and opened the door. “You can say what you want but I know for a fact that this whole holiday was invented to make fun of me.”

It didn’t take much to figure out that the pensive scrunch of his nose, the narrowing of his eyes and the tilt of his head meant that he was holding back a question that would probably end with one of you in the ER and the other in a police car. You decided the look alone was enough to warrant slamming the café door closed in front of his face and marched up to the register. His loud laughter taunted you as you did so; not even the thick walls of Soonyoung’s mother’s café could muffle the sound.

You didn’t bother to turn around to look at him as the bell chimed and Jihoon walked right up, taking his usual spot next to you, the remnants of laughter still on his tongue. “I will never get your deal with Valentine’s day, I swear.”

“There’s no deal. Only hatred. Even loathing, if you will.”

“I’ll make sure to ask Soonyoung to make your coffee as dark as your soul then,” he promised with a cheeky grin. The list of crimes you wished to commit on this day was growing by the second – he knew damn well to not come between you and your vanilla mocha latte.

“Anyways,” you sighed theatrically, “can’t Valentine’s day be over already?”

“I sure hope not,” Soonyoung’s bright voice sounded as he practically danced out of the backrooms, “our sales are always the best on Valentine’s day. So, what can I get you two?”

Why did everything have to be Valentine’s themed anyway? And so expensive? The new higher price of the chocolate muffins had you absolutely appalled.

Your bitter thoughts were interrupted by a nudge to your side. “What do you want?”

A new wave of confusion hit. “Since when do you ask that?”

“You’re acting like I order at random,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They don’t have your usual waffles.”

You were even more appalled. Absolutely horrified, really. “They don’t have waffles?! What kind of a café doesn’t have waffles?!”

“We have waffles!” Soonyoung seemed offended by your best friend’s claim, a pout on his lips as he stood at the counter in his red apron (and was his name tag heart-shaped? (You could’ve sworn it was just a rectangle last week)). 

Who were you supposed to believe? Soonyoung who worked at the café and was too earnest to ever really lie to you? Or Jihoon who sometimes lied to you just to have a laugh? You were leaning towards the former, and Jihoon could read it from your face.

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll get you your pink heart-shaped waffles.”

The use of emphasis was not accidental and his brows rose in challenge, daring you to agree to his absolutely horrifying order.

“Heart-shaped?” You prayed he was joking. 

Turning to face Soonyoung, you found yourself disappointed to realise he wasn’t. With a bright, proud smile on his face, Soonyoung nodded. “We’re switching up the menu for the holiday.”

Single and lonely as you were, you could think of few things less appetizing than pink heart-shaped waffles. Biting back a whine of frustration, you leaned your forehead onto Jihoon’s shoulder and mumbled, “Just get me anything but that.”

You realised your mistake almost as soon as you said those words. Eyes widening, you pushed yourself back upright and tried to stop him as he placed an order for cinnamon rolls and a Nuts About You praline latte with a wicked grin on his face. You both knew exactly what he was doing and he found great amusement in your misery.

“Perfect–,” Soonyoung started, already clicking away to add your order.

You interrupted with a rather loud, “I do not want that!”

Jihoon’s lips quirked. “Why not? Too nutty for you?”

“I just don’t want it,” you declared, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “Just because.”

He pretended to roll his eyes before turning to Soonyoung again, “She’ll have a Cupid’s Special Never Bean Kissed instead.”

“We’re no longer friends, Lee Jihoon.”

The stupid smile didn’t leave his face. “You don’t want me to pay for lunch?”

Second mistake of the day. You groaned and his laughter filled the store as you did so. 

“Your food should be ready soon. Are you paying together or separately?” Before you could answer, Soonyoung added – and you could’ve sworn his eyes glinted with something not entirely wholesome –, “If you say you’re a couple, I can give you a 20% discount and two slices of cake for free. This goes until February 15th.” 

You and Jihoon stared at him dumbfounded. 

He shrugged. “I’m not allowed to assume.”

“What about this–” Jihoon widely gestured to the both of you, appearing equally baffled, “–says ‘might be a couple’?”

Soonyoung shrugged once more and put on a wide smile. “Are you?”

“No!”

“Worth a shot,” he sighed, his smile never fading. “You two could pull off being a couple though.”

“Why are we friends with you again?”

“Because you love me.” Your scrunched up face must have seemed doubtful enough because he soon added, “And my mom makes me give you employee discounts.”

“Exactly why does he keep offering us the couples’ discount every year?” Jihoon wondered under his breath two minutes later while practically throwing himself onto the chair across from yours. “He knows we’re both single.”

“Maybe he’s trying to play matchmaker,” you joked, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the plate he’d placed on the table. “You know, to set us up or something.”

Jihoon caught your eyes. A moment of silence passed as you contemplated your words. 

Then he shook his head and huffed. “He’s not dumb enough for that.”

“No, you’re right.” You took a bite and almost moaned at the taste – Soonyoung’s mother had a knack for baked goods. “God, this is so good– Besides,” you quickly returned to the topic, “I think he might have been right last time.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the whole ‘you have to love yourself to be loved by someone else’,” you reminded him with a shrug. “I’ve been trying to do things for myself this week and it’s actually been so nice.”

“Things like what?” he wondered, grabbing a cinnamon roll as well.

“Well, the museum visit, for one. I got a text about it and thought ‘I don’t have anyone to take with me, but I might as well go for myself’, so I went and it was actually really nice,” you pointed out. “Freeing, in a way.”

He blinked. “I was literally with you the entire day.”

“You’re practically attached to me,” you joked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “It doesn’t count.”

“Your coffee’s ready!” Soonyoung appeared at the table with two cups. He placed one in front of you, keeping the other in a flimsy grip in his other hand as he did so. 

Before you could comment on it, the other cup dropped from his hand with a loud gasp and an apology.

“I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung was reaching for tissues before you could even comprehend what had happened. 

Then you felt your suddenly cold button-up shirt press and stick to your skin. Glancing down, you cursed under your breath and reached for a handful of tissues of your own, starting to dab away at the spots of coffee on your white shirt.

“Should’ve known something like this would happen,” you spoke through gritted teeth as Soonyoung’s lips kept spilling apologies after apologies. “This is why I never wear white.”

Jihoon sat frozen on his chair, wide eyes wildly switching between you trying to clean your shirt, and Soonyoung, practically on his knees, wiping the floor. Eventually, he settled on watching you.

Your desperate clean-up attempt soon slowed. It was no use. You didn’t possess the magic necessary to get an iced americano out of the white fabric. 

“Can I do anything…?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Nothing short of finding me a new shirt to wear,” you told him with a laugh that had no joy in it. You still had four hours of work left and you were certain your boss would have a word with you for the accidental dress code violation – wearing clean clothes was, after all, written in bold on the first page of the employee handbook.

He frowned. “I could give you my hoodie to cover-up?”

You perked up at the idea. “Would you?”

He snorted a laugh. “Is that really a question?” 

Without another word, he sat upright and pulled on the hem of his black hoodie, revealing a grey t-shirt under it. It took him a few seconds and some noises of struggling (that you suspected he only made to cheer you up), and then he handed the hoodie to you. 

It was warm to the touch and smelled like your best friend when you pulled it over your head. Your day was better immediately.

“It feels like a hug,” you mumbled without really meaning to.

Jihoon’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat at that exact moment. He coughed twice before humming, “You say the weirdest things.”

Thursdays are movie nights. No matter the situation, no matter your feelings, Jihoon and you would buy copious amounts of snacks and gather at either of your apartments to watch a movie together.

“We’re not watching The Lion King,” he declared while hauling your giant grocery bag up the stairs (he’d insisted it was easier to just stuff everything into a giant bag than to carry several bags; who were you to try and stop him?). “I don’t feel like crying today.”

“You never cry anyway,” you grumbled and supported the bag from underneath. There was just the tiniest tear in its side and you were growing wary. There was only one more flight of stairs to go.

He stopped and turned his head to glare back at you. “Are you suggesting I’m a monster? Who doesn’t cry during The Lion King?”

“You,” you supplied with an innocent smile and pushed at the bottom of the bag to urge him forward. “If you don’t want to watch The Lion King, then pick something better. I dare you.”

“Captain America.”

“I’m locking you outside,” you replied with a scoff. “You can sleep on the doormat, or maybe Ms. Kim will be merciful and give you one of her dog beds.”

“Can you stop acting like you don’t enjoy Marvel movies?” he wondered. “Or would that break your programming?”

As you arrived on your floor, you told yourself it was not worth the fight. You reached into your pocket to pull out the keys, ignoring Jihoon’s groans of exhaustion as you slowly and meticulously pressed the key into the hole. But when you began to turn it, the door handle tilted downwards and the door opened.

You blinked in surprise as Yoon Jeonghan gently ushered you out of the way so he could leave. He wore a pleasant smile as he opened the door wider to let you into your own apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you found your voice again.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see if you had any of that good ramyeon.” When you lifted a puzzled brow, he victoriously held up three packets of your favourite ramyeon. “I’ll be taking these. Thank you for being such a good friend!”

While you searched for words to say, he rushed down the stairs. He was still in hearing range when your brain kicked into gear and you called out, “How’d you get inside?!”

“Stole Jihoon’s key!” came a joyous reply from three stories below. 

Beside you, Jihoon let out a loud groan of frustration, brows knitted and nose scrunched. “That son of a bi–.”

“I was looking forward to that ramyeon!” you whined and stomped into your apartment, pulling your best friend after you by the sleeve.

Lost in noodle-grief, you burrowed into the sofa cushions as he placed down the bag and began rummaging through the two drawers you had so kindly surrendered to him and his clothes. You watched as he closed the drawers with a defeated short hum and opened your closet instead. It didn’t alarm you – it hadn’t in years. 

“Why are your shirts so much nicer than mine?” he suddenly asked, pulling off his crispy black button-up shirt to replace it with your favourite white t-shirt.

Momentarily you were brought back to reality just to reply with a short and simple: “Because I actually pay attention to what I buy from the store?”

His head turned just to give you good-natured glare. It soon gave way to a mischievous smirk – one crafted to annoy you. “Why would I do that when I can just borrow your clothes?”

“One day I’m going to take away your closet privileges,” you lazily vowed. 

He stuck his tongue out. You always did bring the more mature side of him out.

As you turned on the TV – one that came with your studio apartment and would have been entirely useless if not for the movie nights –, Jihoon threw himself into the cushions next to you.

Taking advantage of your state of not-quite-being-there, Jihoon stole the remote. When you whined and tried to get it back, he laughed and pushed you away with his free hand. While you fought to get the remote, the TV began playing yet another Marvel movie. 

The opening credits began playing and you only knew it was Iron Man because he’d made you watch this movie a thousand times. You wanted to argue but the movie nights had one unbreakable rule: once a movie starts playing, there’s no changing it. 

“Seriously?” you groaned and threw your head back against the backrest of the sofa. 

Like the TV, the green sofa had also been in the apartment for as long as you knew. You had always thought it to be a rather cosy and perfect lounging spot. Slowly, however, you were realising it had its flaws, the worst one being that with Jihoon’s manspreading habit, there simply wasn’t enough space.

“Move,” you nudged his leg that was leaning too close to yours for comfort. “Hoon, you’re on my side of the sofa.”

He only nudged your leg back with a laugh. “Since when?”

“Since ten minutes ago,” you declared, pushing back harder. “And stop manspreading. That’s rude. You’re taking up all of the space.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to be nice to guests?” he teased, leaning even closer with his whole body now until his chin rested on your shoulder. 

You found yourself pleasantly surprised by his warmth. It was cold outside, you reasoned with yourself, of course you were enjoying any warmth you could get your hands on. Besides, it wasn’t often that Jihoon burrowed this close to you. You were bound to find joy in his rare act of affection.

Your joy was short-lived though because it was only now that you noted (with slight to moderate annoyance) that he had stolen a coke from your fridge. You scoffed.

“You’re hardly a guest. A parasite is more likely.”

As more and more of his weight pressed onto you, you groaned in pain. He only laughed at your misery. 

“You steal my clothes. You steal my space. You use me as your personal cushion,” you counted. “Does your audacity have no limits?”

He paused, lips pursing as he thought for a moment. Then he smiled brightly. “No.”

It took all your strength to push him off you. He had the gall to giggle the whole way, and you soon found yourself laughing along with him. 

“You’re awful,” you told him with an affectionate grin. Your efforts of moving him were in vain and he happily rested his head on your shoulder, occasionally slurping his (formerly your) coke. You tried really hard not to think of how awfully domestic this position would’ve looked to a stranger.

“You’re not allowed to complain,” he eventually told you. “You’re the one that stole my hoodie yesterday.”

You gasped, appalled by his accusation. “You offered!”

“I was practically blackmailed,” he spoke loudly as if announcing it to a theatre of people. “What choice did I have?”

“Maybe I need to do this self-love journey just so I’ll have someone who actually loves me and isn’t faking it to be a drama queen,” you concluded with a theatrical sigh. 

Jihoon laughed and nudged your side. “No way. You’re stuck with me no matter what.”

And you appreciated that. You really did. But. There was always a but.

“How am I supposed to learn to love myself more anyway?” you wondered, leaning into the cushions as well as his warmth, angling your body to enjoy the benefits of both. “I socialised at Seungkwan’s party. I went to a museum. I feel like I love myself enough. What else can I do?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something that says I’m unapologetically me,” you said thoughtfully, trying to think of something. You weren’t entirely sure it had anything to do with self-love. Really, it was probably more-so to avoid your loneliness on Valentine’s day. “Something I’ll enjoy but find a little challenging, so when I’m done with it I’ll feel pride.”

“You could order your own coffee for a change.”

Dreams shattered, you let out a scoff. “I would but you never let me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed readily, “you always get the same thing anyway.”

“Well, what if I wanted to try something different?”

“You snooze, you lose. Just be glad I pay for your lunch.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Silence. Long and awkward (just how you liked it) as you watched his reddening face with a wicked grin. This is what he got for being mean and useless. Finally, he ran a rough hand over his face and declared, “That’s it. You can pay for your own lunch from now on.”

“Oh no, how will I live,” you bemoaned, fully aware that he’d never let you pay for your own meals. “I’m still open to ideas though. I need something to do.”

Jihoon offered a mocking smile. “Well, you didn’t like my idea, so–”

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his shirt with one hand. “Anything. Please. Tell me to read The Odyssey. To start a charity. To paint an overcomplicated mural–”

Clearly uninterested in the topic at hand, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”

Now that he mentioned it, your hands were feeling a little freezing. Just a bit. And your toes felt like they’d been on an ice block this whole time.  You frowned. 

“No, you’re right,” you realised and jumped up to check the thermostat. It proudly showcased the number 10. You hurriedly set it to a higher heat. 10 degrees was not enough to keep you alive, you feared. 

“Someone’s messed with my thermostat,” you told him as you returned to the sofa. “This old building gets cold so fast.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed in thought. “You don’t think…”

“What?” you wondered, pressing closer to him in an effort to get warm again. The world off the sofa was far worse than you had anticipated and now you were forced to shiver as you waited for Jihoon’s natural warmth to reach you as well. You felt your eyes widen as the pieces clicked into place. “Jeonghan?”

“He was acting suspicious,” he confirmed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you closer. 

Though you found yourself wanting to purr in bliss, you told yourself he only did so because he felt sorry for you – you never were built for the cold climate. Making a mental note to fight Jeonghan the next time you saw him was the best distraction you had.

Minutes passed in silence, par the movie playing in the background. You weren’t sure either of you were focused on it. But the rule stood and neither of you dared to be the first one to break it. So you remained right there, in his arms, unable to think about anything other than your vengeance plan and Jihoon’s embrace.

It was warmer now. Whether it was the doing of your apartment’s heating or Jihoon holding you like you were his lifeline, you were too comfortable to contemplate. The soft chimes of dreamland were calling you now.

“You know,” Jihoon spoke, voice low and gravelly, “they say cuddling helps to preserve heat.”

You knew it was just a dumb excuse. You knew you should’ve poked his side and made a joke about him using you for his personal gain. But as you pressed your cheek against his chest and wrapped your arms around his frame just a little tighter, you forgot all about it. 

By the time you remembered to argue, you felt your eyes getting heavy and his heartbeat slowing down under your ear. 

You hadn’t disliked Seungkwan’s parties all that much last week or the week before that. But this was getting excessive – even Seungcheol had said so, but Seungkwan listened to no one. Seungkwan, you see, had a goal and no one could dissuade him from reaching it.

“I think at this point they have no choice but to crown him the party king,” Jihoon mused, once again sitting by your side on the sofa as the two of you watched the party host gloat about his impeccable party streak. “It’s quantity over quality.”

Taking a sip from your soda, you hummed in agreement. “If nothing else, they should crown him for all the effort alone. Have any of the others even planned any parties yet?”

“I think Seungcheol’s planning the Valentine’s day Party with Soonyoung.”

You nodded. “I’m definitely going to be sick for that one.”

“You’re going to have to pick a different excuse,” Jihoon pointed out with a chuckle. “You’ve pulled the flu excuse four times already this year. They’re getting suspicious.”

“Join me in becoming sheep farmers in Iceland?”

“If Seungkwan would find us in 14 days, Seungcheol would find us in half that,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. 

You sighed. “Do you have to ruin all of my dreams?”

He laughed and nudged your shoulder. It was only recently that you’d noticed how often he did that. You hadn’t seen him do it to his other friends, now that you thought about it. It was always him and you. Perhaps, you thought, you had finally discovered his love language.

You noted with glee that he did it again, this time so slightly you almost didn’t feel it. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” you wondered, unable to think of anything you had done to warrant those words.

The room seemed to get brighter, lit up by a radiant magical glow, as his face broke out into a wide smile. “For staying sober with me. I think I’d go insane here if you didn’t.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. You’d live,” you told him and took a sip of your cola as you surveyed the room, taking note of your friends’ antics. “I’m not entirely sure about the others, but you would live.”

He burst out laughing at your words as if it was the funniest joke in the world (it really wasn’t; you had elicited far colder responses to far funnier jokes but you appreciated the enthusiasm). “You’re probably right. But still,” he took a calming breath, a bright grin still on his face, “I’m glad to have you with me. I can’t imagine you have much fun sitting here with a sober me when you could be doing drunk karaoke with Joshua and Jihyo.” 

You were about to tell him there was no place you’d rather be when Vernon appeared from what you could only assume was the shadows and gave the two of you that blank helpless wide-eyed look of his. 

You and Jihoon sighed in unison.

“What is it this time?” he wondered, already adjusting his sleeves and flexing his fingers in preparation for whatever herculean task awaited him.

The reply was short and laconic. “The fridge is being weird.”

Jihoon offered you a look that told you he couldn’t have cared less about the decade-old fridge Jeonghan had wrestled out from some old lady’s hands at the second-hand store. It wasn’t his property. It had, in fact, absolutely nothing to do with him because he didn’t live here. 

“Just go,” you laughed and waved him away, earning a look of betrayal. “The child won’t leave you alone if you don’t help him.”

“I’m not a repair guy,” he told you with a mild glare before groaning once more and finally getting up. From his new higher vantage point, he could look right into your empty cup and roll his eyes as if he didn’t want to say the words he’d utter next: “I’ll get you a new drink while I’m gone.”

You sent him off with a grateful smile and a plan to conquer the space he’d left behind. Your feet would thank you for the gentle stretch of being rested on the sofa and you could already practically hear the odes they’d sing to you. But then, as fast as the spot beside you became empty, it immediately was filled again. 

“I’m sorry if this upsets you,” a girl you vaguely knew by the name of Yeonmi spoke as she slumped into the free space Jihoon had left, slurring her words, “but I’m going to marry him.”

You quirked a brow. “Who? Vernon?”

“No!” She pointed at your best friend. “Him! Jihoon!”

You suddenly wondered if you were hallucinating this entire interaction. You blinked once, and then once more, before turning your head to look. Certainly Yeonmi was drunk off her ass and had mistaken him for someone else! Or maybe you yourself were drunk – who’s to say Jeonghan hadn’t mixed vodka into the soda once again? He’d done it before, more than twice.

But then you saw: Jihoon stood at the kitchen aisle. Laughing at what appeared to be the funniest joke in the world, he passed bottles of water around for his drunk friends. One by one, they accepted their bottles with grateful glee and promises to never drink again. 

Then, whining something about how he’s not that drunk yet, Seungcheol tried to push the bottle away and your best friend’s grin morphed into a short-lived frown as he smacked him across the back of his head with the very same bottle and forced it into his hand. Just like that Jihoon’s smile returned as Seungcheol’s pout only pursed out more.

As you began to laugh at the scene, you suddenly remembered why you’d looked over in the first place. Brows furrowing, your head snapped to glare at Yeonmi once again. “You want to marry him?!”

You weren’t entirely sure why the idea irritated you as much as it did. Maybe Jeonghan actually had mixed something into the soda. You certainly had no other reason to be so irate by the concept of Jihoon marrying someone. 

“Absolutely,” Yeonmi mumbled, gaze stuck as if Jihoon was a beautiful mirage that would disappear if she took her eyes off of him. She took a sip of her cocktail, unaware of the scathing look of disapproval she was on the receiving end of. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

Fighting to keep your irrational temper in check, you took a deep breath. “Since when do you like him like that?”

“Today.”

“What?”

Yeonmi must have taken the growing volume of your voice for a sign of excitement because she quickly added, “I think we’ll get married tomorrow.”

“You can’t marry him,” you told her without as much as a scoff. It wasn’t a joke. It was not a threat. It was a clear-cut fact of life. To you it was anyway.

Finally, Yeonmi tore her attention away from him and stared at you, blinking her saddened puppy-dog eyes. “Why not?”

You didn’t have a reason. Not a very good one anyway. “You just can’t.”

“But I want to!” She continued pouting. You noted with glee that it was the alcohol talking. Sober Yeonmi would never do this to you. But sober Yeonmi was far gone – six beers deep gone. “Why can’t I marry him?”

Unfortunately, drunk Yeonmi was far less reasonable than you knew sober Yeonmi to be. You had to think long and hard about your words if you wanted to put this conversation to rest soon. “Because he–”

“Who’s marrying who?” Seokmin stumbled into the conversation and onto the sofa, settling right between the two of you like a rather ill-fitting puzzle piece. A drink in his hand, a backwards cap askew on his head, and a comically large tiger plushie under his arm (one you could practically hear Soonyoung already frantically searching for), he stared at you two in child-like excited wonder. 

You almost had a spark of hope – could this be your saving grace? your ticket out of this conversation that was irritating you for reasons outside of your comprehension? – until you realised that Seokmin was almost certainly just as drunk – if not more – as Yeonmi. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned.

“I’m marrying Jihoon,” Yeonmi declared all too proudly, her pout turning into a bright smile that could rival the sun. For a moment you found yourself almost bitterly thinking she was exactly the pretty kind of girl your best friend deserved. Then she just had to open her mouth again: “Tomorrow. I’m marrying him tomorrow, for sure.”

Her words were met with a dramatic gasp and a matching bright smile. “You are?”

“I am!”

“She’s really not,” you mumbled from where you’d been pushed against the armrest by their celebration.

Then Seokmin froze mid-squeal-of-joy. He slapped a hand over his mouth. He loudly whispered, “But you can’t!”

Yeonmi’s smile once again dropped. “Why not?”

“Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend!” He told her with such conviction that you began to wonder if you had missed a major life event of your own damned life. 

You frowned. “We’re not–”

“Oh.” Yeonmi nodded solemnly. “You are right. I can’t believe I forgot that.” She paused before loudly whispering, “You know, I heard they’re actually married. Eloped in Vegas during spring break back in college.”

“I heard that one too!” Seokmin pointed out with inexplicable uncontained glee. “I heard he wrote a song and sang it to her at the proposal.”

“That’s so romantic,” Yeonmi swooned, smiling like it was the cutest news she’d heard all day. Her dreams of marrying Jihoon had disappeared just like that. 

But you felt like you were living in a nightmare.

“What are you guys talking about?” you cried out, watching them in astonishment and horror. “There’s nothing going on between us!”

“I mean,” Soonyoung joined in, leaning against the armrest like he’d been there all along, “you’re practically married, even if the elopement thing isn’t true.”

Yeonmi gasped. “It’s not?”

You ignored her.

“It’s okay if the spark goes out a little bit, you know what I mean,” Soonyoung attempted to explain? comfort you? Whatever he was doing, you wished he’d stop. “Relationships take work, you know.”

You felt your left eye twitch. “We’re not dating.”

This was news to your friends – if their wide eyes and dropped jaws were anything to go by, anyways. 

“But–” Seokmin started, slumping in his seat as if his whole world had shattered into pieces. “But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). You’re practically always glued together.” 

“So? We’re friends. Best friends. You know this.”

“If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is?” he wondered, asking no one in particular it seemed. His gaze had frozen on the fairy lights taped to the ceiling. He looked close to tears and you decided you’d had enough of this and got up off the sofa. 

It had been a while since you’d been out on the balcony anyway. It was nice and quiet and away from your nosy friends who clearly could not wrap their minds around the possibility of two friends not dating. The fresh air bit at your nose but you decided it was better than facing them again. 

Looking out at the nightlife of the city below, your thoughts kept drifting back to what they said. Why had you felt so irritated at the idea of Jihoon being with someone else? He wasn’t yours to keep, as much as you liked to joke about it. He wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not even a friend with benefits. He was just Jihoon.

You were just you and Jihoon. That’s what it had always been. 

So why did the idea of being ‘just (Y/n) and Jihoon’ suddenly sent a rush of rage and insult up your spine? 

“(Y/n)?” a voice called out and you felt the subtle warmth of the apartment creep out through the opened balcony door. You turned to find Seungkwan standing right there, his kind eyes looking at you as if you were insane. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It was stuffy in there,” you excused yourself and turned back to stare over the railing.

He hummed in understanding but couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Could’ve just opened a window instead of standing out here without your jacket.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Warmth surrounded you, the feel of a soft knitted cardigan following soon after. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m a little surprised Jihoon hasn’t given you his sweater yet,” he noted under his breath as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted you to hear it or not. He cleared his throat and added louder, “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of Jihoon today. Seokmin and Yeonmi are a lot, I know.”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “You heard them?”

“I’m sure half the party heard them,” he told you as if it was obvious before his expression melted into something more compassionate. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was hard to choose. So you stayed silent instead. Seungkwan seemed to decide that was a yes.

“You know, I think Jihoon holds you closer to his heart than he sometimes lets on,” he told you. “Most of us see through his facade by now, but sometimes I wonder if you’re still one of the few who can’t.”

Great. Exactly what you needed: a double dose of ‘I’m an awful friend’.

“You know that keychain you have? That little cat he whittled out of wood back in high school?” He chuckled to himself. “He spent a whole week making it, constantly texting the group chat if it was perfect yet. Perfect for what, we’d ask and he’d always say it was for you like it was the most obvious thing.”

He leaned against the railing with you. Just as soon as he did so, he cursed. Seungkwan stepped away almost immediately. His voice was suddenly much louder than before: “It’s so cold! Can you even feel your arms?”

A little dazed by the information you’d learnt, you shrugged. “I guess.”

“That’s it,” he decided and grabbed a hold of your arm before dragging you back inside against your will (not that you were complaining; you suddenly realised it was indeed very cold outside). “If you want to be cold, I can give you ice cream, but please stop trying to contact frostbite.”

You barely made it through the kitchen door before running into Jihoon. It was starting to feel like Seungkwan needed to find a bigger venue for his parties because you were clearly not able to find even a minute of peace here. 

“There you are,” he practically cheered at the sight of you, a wide grin breaking out on his face as if he hadn’t seen you in days rather than mere 20 minutes.

You were painfully aware of Seungkwan’s knowing smile as Jihoon handed you a cup of soda. You took a small cautious sip – it didn’t taste anything like alcohol. There went your accidentally tipsy theory. You let out a soft groan at the thought.

“You good?” he wondered, hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Soonyoung said you looked kind of upset.”

“I’m fine,” you said. It was a lie – at least it felt like a lie. You always did hate to lie to Jihoon. But what else were you supposed to say? “It’s just been a long day.”

If he caught onto your false narrative, he didn’t mention it.

It was 2 am and you couldn’t sleep. Your friends’ words kept echoing in your head and no amount of “we’re just friends” could keep them at bay. 

For a short moment, you almost reached out to him. Your fingers knew the path to Jihoon’s contact in your phone without you even thinking about it. It was only when your thumb hovered above the green call button that you realised what you were doing. 

You found yourself scoffing. Exactly was your plan? To text him? To call him and tell him…? Tell him what?

“Hey, Jihoon, I just wanted to let you know that Seokmin and Youngmi and probably half our friend group think we’re married or at least dating and, honestly, not even gonna lie, I think it suddenly made me realise I might be and have been for a while sort of, kind of, maybe just a little bit or maybe even very much in love with you. Thoughts?”

You didn’t exactly pride yourself in your ability to put together words (and you were certain Jihoon wouldn’t have cared much for it if you did), but even you knew you couldn’t tell him that. Certainly not at 2 am and definitely not after being his friend for so many years.

So you muted your phone, put on a ridiculously long historical movie you weren’t planning on paying any attention to, and found a tub of ice cream from the deepest crevices of your freezer. It was you against your demons now. You weren’t going to leave your apartment until you’d figured out how to look him in the eyes again.

Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend. You’re practically married.

The voices kept echoing in your head like annoying little mosquitoes, sucking on your lifeforce. It was nothing short of irritating; not because you thought they were wrong, but precisely the opposite.

You sat on the sofa, head heavy with foreign thoughts. Foreign thoughts that weren’t all that unfamiliar at all – they’d been peeking their heads out every once in a while ever since high school. But you had always acted like they weren’t there: you brushed them aside, painted over them with other thoughts, and told yourself what you felt for Jihoon was just friendship.

Good old plain and very platonic friendship. Nothing else at all. 

Your heart fluttering every time he laughed at your jokes? Friendship.

Your breath getting caught in your throat every time you saw him without a shirt? Definitely friendship.

The ugly jealous feeling in your chest – the very one that took over your entire being when Yeonmi said she’d marry Jihoon? Friends get jealous all the time, don’t they? 

“They don’t,” the character on the TV said at that very moment, like a sign from the universe.

But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is? 

The voices kept on echoing. You squeezed your eyes shut and drowned your sorrowful realisations in stracciatella ice cream. 

Spoonful after spoonful, your brain numbed and froze. But the knowledge had sunk deep into the crevices of your very being and you knew that no matter what happened, one thing was true: nothing about your feelings for Lee Jihoon was platonic in the slightest.

Jihoon’s studio was a cosy and comfortable place. Dimly lit and full of his soft humming along to the songs he rarely let you listen to, it had become your safe space the day he showed it to you. 

Never once had you felt out of place in it. But when he invited you to come keep him company this evening, you found yourself hesitating at the door for the first time. 

It was as if you had forgotten how to act. 

Did the you who felt only platonic feelings for Jihoon ever knock? Did you simply burst through the door and throw your keychain at his head when he was too focused on his work to notice? Or did you just sit outside the door until he suddenly remembered he’d invited you over and come searching for you?

Had your heart always sped up, doubling its pace when you stood in the hallway? Had you always worried your hair was a mess? Surely you hadn’t. Suddenly you felt like a fool for putting on a lip stain.

You forced a deep breath of air into your lungs and knocked on the door. It immediately felt wrong.

The door opened seconds later. Jihoon greeted you with furrowed brows and an amused smile. “Since when are you so polite?”

You feigned a laugh. “Had to make sure you weren’t rotting away in your chair.”

He rolled his eyes. His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist before swiftly pulling you inside. “Come on, you’re probably freezing. How long have you been standing there?”

Silence filled the room as he led you to the sofa. 

You realised under his confused gaze that the old you – the definitely-not-in-love-with-my-best-friend you – would’ve argued. You would’ve told him something silly to distract him from your tells of embarrassment. You would’ve shoved him and  he would’ve laughed. He had expected you to.

Making your lips curl into another smile that wasn’t quite sincere, you nudged him with your foot. “Did you miss me? Be honest.”

Another silence. You thought of how he should’ve snorted a laugh and told you “you wish” before turning to his computer and telling you about his woes as a music producer. Instead, he frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Your mouth felt dry. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just,” he started, scratching the back of his head all the while watching you cautiously. You felt like a cornered stray cat as  you sat on his sofa, still clad in your coat and hat. “You’ve been acting a little weird today.”

You wanted to laugh. You hadn’t even interacted with him enough for him to come to that conclusion. In fact, there had been a conscious effort to avoid him until you could trust yourself to look him in the eyes and not burst into ballads about how wonderful he was. 

“I guess I’m just a little under the weather.” You still despised lying to him, but you told yourself it wasn’t a complete lie. If nothing else, you were at least a little bit love sick and you weren’t entirely sure yet whether seeing him was the cause or the cure. 

His eyes blinked wide. “You’re sick?”

Jihoon waited a minute, watching you patiently (though you could see a line between his brows that only appeared when he was particularly frustrated). Then he walked forward. You blinked up at him standing over your seated form, his brows knitted with concern as he held the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Do you have a fever?” he wondered and leaned his face closer on instinct, pressing his lips to your forehead like a mother would to her child. He pulled back before long, seemingly finally realising his error, and grumbled, “Definitely a fever.”

Right. A fever. You were hot to the touch. Definitely a normal reaction to seeing your best friend for the first time all day. Nothing abnormal about that. 

“It’s nothing,” you told him, still forcing a smile, and patted his hand. “What are you working on today?”

At the mention of his work, he seemed to perk up a little. His lips quirked in that way they always did when he was about to tell you a lie. “Nothing interesting.”

“I’ve known you for nearly two decades,” you told him with a scowl. “You can’t keep things from me.”

He scoffed and turned on his heel, returning to his usual seat at the desk. His eyes narrowed when he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’ll keep all the secrets I want from you.”

“No chance,” you teased, resting your head on your palm as you leaned forward against your knee. “You're practically transparent.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he told you with a chuckle and turned to the screen. Before long, his headphones were on his head and his head was deep in the music again. 

You’d never felt like you didn’t belong in this room and you didn’t feel like it now either, even as your chest threatened to burst open with all of your doubts and feelings. Your coat slid off your shoulders and you settled down on the sofa.

The you from before would’ve unlocked your phone and watched something on it at an obnoxious volume just to annoy him (but had that ever really been the goal and not just a ploy to get his unwavering attention at any cost?), but you found yourself lost in your thoughts, overthinking every memory you had of him.

You thought back to how he always seemed to be pressed to your side on movie nights – giggling in your ear, repeating and mimicking the actors just to make you laugh, nuzzling his cheek against your collarbone like a cat showing his affection. 

You thought back to the late night calls and how they made you so giddy despite the fact that you desperately wanted to sleep; to the protective glares he gave any man that looked at you and how a shiver went up your spine every time he crossed his arms over his chest while doing so; to the shirts and sweaters of his that you had unapologetically stolen to keep warm at night and breathe in his scent.

As you watched him – his head bopping along to the beat you couldn’t hear, his lips pursed in an effort to not spoil the lyrics, his dark eyes flitting your way every so often –, you realised there was no room for doubts. There was nothing uncertain about your feelings for Lee Jihoon. 

All this time, you had loved him for his laughter and his jokes. You had loved him for his yelling and his tears. You had loved him for his melodic voice and his silly 3 am ideas. You had loved him for the warmth of his hands when he taught you to play the guitar and the fond disappointment in his eyes when you failed your driving test for the first time.

There was nothing you didn’t love about him.

Even now you noted with certain fondness that one side of his headphones was off his ear just enough so he could hear you and it made you love him all the more so. 

The only thing you didn’t entirely adore about this man was that he wasn’t yours.

His eyes found you again and he quirked a brow. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I think I just realised why I don’t like Valentine’s day,” you told him without thinking. It was silly. Of all the millions of things you could’ve told him, of all the possible insults and puns and jokes, you told him the vulnerable truth you had only barely just grasped yourself.

Jihoon swiveled his chair to face you, suddenly intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His raised both his brows this time, staring at you with interest. You didn’t shy away from eye contact – not now when you’d finally learnt to appreciate the shades of brown. You only smiled and watched him as he sighed in defeat and turned back to the computer.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he mumbled under his breath.

You weren’t sure you had another option.

While you had always hated Valentine’s day, Seungcheol and Soonyoung loved it with their whole hearts. Who would’ve guessed that the two men who could strike fear in anyone’s heart with just a look were hopeless romantics?

After spending hours contemplating if you wanted to be present at this event at all, you arrived fashionably late. Why they had decided to hold the celebration the night before Valentine’s day was beyond you, even if it was the reason that finally convinced you to go.

Welcoming you into their house brimming with roses and heart-themed decorations, Seungcheol handed you a red paper rose at the front door and sent you on your way with a wink. 

“Jihoon’s in the kitchen,” he told you with a smirk that said he could see right through you. You hoped you weren’t as obvious to the others.

Taking your time to look around was just an excuse and it felt like everybody knew it. They gave you smiles and winks and claps on your shoulder as you passed them by with soft greetings. You couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Looking for distractions, you craned your neck to look at the decorations. Heart-shaped balloons of red and pink and white floated against the ceiling. They were surrounded by pink and white party banners hung between the walls, cut into triangles with little hearts drawn in the centre, little fairy lights wrapped around the strings keeping them together. The floor was covered in rose petals. If Seungcheol and Soonyoung knew anything, it was how to go all out (and the amazed yet annoyed look on Seungkwan’s face told you he realised it could cost him the competition).

As you walked through the crowd, you realised that for once the pinks and reds hadn’t filled you with frustration and anger and resentment. Instead, a strange feeling of bitter sadness filled your chest. The spot on your side felt empty even with tens of people pushing past you. Even when you were avoiding him, you missed him.

You decided there was no point in torturing yourself further. After all, you thought, wasn’t being by his side but never being able to call him yours torture enough?

True to Seungcheol’s word, you found Jihoon in the kitchen. And you quickly realised why people had been greeting you the way they did. A laugh threatened to bubble out of you at the sight.

Jihoon stood on the kitchen island, surrounded by countless bottles of beverages, singing into a wood spoon. Eyes heavy-lidded in a way you hadn’t seen them be since that one night he got drunk in an act of teenage rebellion in 11th grade, he swayed in his spot and sang love songs at the top of his lungs. 

You dreaded to think what Seungcheol and Soonyoung might think of his actions. But when you looked around you found that rather than trying to get him down, Soonyoung sat on the kitchen counter across from the island, a whisk in hand, harmonising. People came and went, getting their drinks, and loudly cheered the duo on but didn’t pay them much mind beyond that. Perhaps they didn’t realise how unusual this sight really was.

Their rendition of a Bruno Mars song came to an end to the sound of a drunken applause and a few shouts for an encore. Jihoon waved away the compliments, nearly knocking himself off balance in doing so. As he lifted the spoon to his lips to start another song, his eyes met yours. The spoon clattered to the floor and his body followed not much more gracefully. 

He called your name with such joy that you couldn’t help but smile and open your arms as he practically tackled you in a hug. His face pressed against your shoulder so tightly that you worried if he could even breathe. “You came!”

You didn’t have any words to tell him, still too baffled by the situation at hand. Your eyes found Soonyoung’s and you raised your brows in question. He only smirked and shrugged innocently before practically dancing out of the room.

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. That is the only reason why you hardly drank at gatherings; not at all because Jihoon once smiled at you all pretty and told you he was glad he had at least one sober friend to keep him company. But it seemed that tonight he was too drunk to appreciate the sentiment.

“I think I’m drunk,” Jihoon mumbled after a while and pushed himself upright. You kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him from tilting further left than he already was. “But it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” you told him softly and led him to sit down. 

Like an obedient puppy, he followed your command and sat on a chair, leaning his forearms on the back of it and his chin on the very top. His eyes watched you curiously as you found a glass and filled it with water. You held the glass out for him to take but he just stared at you with starry eyes.

“You look pretty tonight,” he finally uttered when you raised your brows in question. 

You frowned and pushed the glass closer to him, hoping he’d take the hint. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told you, a smile appearing on his face but there wasn’t any humour in it. It was hard to tell what emotions he was trying to convey: happiness? fondness? adoration? Whatever it was, it was making you just a little flustered. And then he delivered the final plow: “You always look pretty.”

Your heart was positively working at three times– no, ten times its usual pace. You sucked in a shallow breath and nudged him with the glass again. This time he took it. 

“Since when do you drink anyway?” you asked to change the topic.

For once he answered the question and shrugged. “Soonyoung thought that maybe I should give it a try again. You know, with all the rejection and everything.” His gaze fell to the tiled floor as he mumbled, “It’s actually been kind of nice.”

“What rejection? Who would reject you?”

He laughed but it sounded bitter. “Who indeed?”

“Did you ask someone to be your Valentine?” you realised and it felt like someone was trying to carve out a piece of your heart. “And they said no?”

Jihoon scoffed and placed down the water. His hand reached for a different cup, full of liquor you could practically smell from all the distance away. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he spoke, “What’s the point of asking if they’re going to say no anyways?”

The room felt hotter than usual. You could hardly breathe. You hadn’t even known Jihoon liked someone. Of course you had to find out merely days after coming to terms with your own feelings for him. Your love life was cursed and so was everything related to Valentine’s day.

You stayed silent to mourn the reality.

“You know what’s the worst part?” he then spoke again. It was hard to tell how drunk he was because he was hardly slurring his words. “I see her every day. Well,” he frowned, “almost every day. Whatever.” He shook his head and took a long sip of the drink. “Every day I see her and every day I think today is going to be the day I finally tell her. And then I don’t. Because I’m just her friend. She’s spent all those years telling everyone we’re just friends and I don’t want to be just her friend. I want so much more. But every time I try to tell her so, I chicken out.”

You could hardly listen to his proclamations. Your eyes were burning, ready to shed silent tears. You wondered if he’d even notice if you did cry. The Jihoon in front of you was a side you hadn’t seen before and you loved him just the same, even if this side was reserved for another woman.

Finally lifting his head, his eyes found yours. They widened. “Are you okay?”

Turning away to discreetly rub the tears out of your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Must be allergic to something in the air. Maybe it’s all the pollen.”

When you turned back to him, he looked almost deflated. He looked down again and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re just allergic to me.”

The tears seemed to vanish at the absurdity of his words. “... What?”

He shrugged. “Every time I say something nice to you, you start acting all weird. Avoiding me. Sometimes I think that if I confessed to you, you’d die on the spot.”

Whatever Soonyoung had been making him drink had to be incredibly strong. Every sentence he uttered seemed more absurd than the one before.

“I should get you home,” you decided with a sigh, resisting the urge to tug your hair out. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he could play with your feelings like this – knowingly or not.

He whined. “I don’t want to–”

“You’re drunk, Jihoon,” you told him firmly. “If you drink any more tomorrow, you’ll murder me in the morning for letting you get this hungover.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes and glared at you before pouting and looking away. “As if I’d ever hurt you.”

“You’re drunk and you’re not making any sense and I’m taking you home to sleep,” you repeated yourself and reached for his arm. You expected him to resist your strength as you pulled him up but instead his hold on your fingers tightened. He stood up and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he told you after a moment of resting. “Can we just nap somewhere?”

You didn’t have the willpower to fight. The little you had, he had shattered without meaning to. You went to hook your arm around his elbow – he didn’t let you, only tightening his hold on your fingers. 

Without much of a choice, you squeezed his hand and slowly led him to a guest room. Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s house had two of these, one on the first and one on the second floor. For a moment you headed towards the one on the first floor. Then your heart ached just a little and you decided you needed to get away from the people to let your heart break in peace.

The second floor guest room had floor to ceiling windows covered with white curtains. The streetlights shone through at an angle that you knew would annoy you if you tried to fall asleep. You suspected that’s why they had designated it for guests rather than sleeping here themselves.

You practically shoved Jihoon onto the mattress to avoid any further complications. Instead of grumbling like you expected him to, he fell down with a series of giggles. You couldn’t help but smile.

There was a single fleece-lined blanket folded on the foot of the bed. You placed it over him with care. When you went to turn around and find a place to sit – or maybe even go back downstairs to drown your sorrows in wine –, his hand shot up and grabbed a hold of yours.

“Stay,” he spoke so softly you almost thought you hadn’t heard him right. “Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I was just going to sit down,” you told him gently, trying to pull your hand free. 

He let out a whine. “See? This is what I mean. You’re allergic to me.”

Exhaustion was making your head ache. Or maybe it was all the tears that were waiting to be shed. You didn’t have the energy to fight, so you sank down next to him, crawling to fit under the blanket with him. “Just go to sleep.”

His hand never left yours as he curled it to rest against his chest and placed his heavy head on your chest. Silence filled the room. You didn’t dare breathe – who knew when you could have him this close again without feeling guilty or angry at the fates?

Minutes passed. You thought he’d fallen asleep when he whispered, “When other guys flirt with you or smile at you or tell you you’re pretty, you smile and thank them. When I do that, you avoid me.”

You wondered when the topic had shifted from his mystery crush to you. 

“Because we’re friends.”

“There it is again,” he mumbled, glaring at the ceiling as if willing it to crumble and rain down on him. “Friends.” The word sounded like venom. “I pour my heart out to you, I write songs to you, I dream of you every time I fall asleep, but that’s all I ever am. A friend.”

“It’s never bothered you before.” You frowned. Despite his harsh tone, you found yourself playing with his hair, and him leaning into your touch. 

He let out a deep breath. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” His head nuzzled closer to you, his breath tickling your skin. You thought you felt his warm lips press down before he whispered, “The other guys will have to go through me if they want you for themselves. I found you first.”

Silence filled the room again, soon accompanied by his soft snores and mumbles of promises he wasn’t conscious enough to actually make. You weren’t sure you could sleep now or ever again, too busy putting the puzzle pieces together.

His words had mangled your heart in every way possible. And yet there was a glimmer of hope as you wondered what he’d meant by his words. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say and now you found yourself wondering how much truth there was to his words. 

He whispered your name in his sleep and you found yourself giving in to the wistful dreams of that being his truth. As you pulled him closer, you prayed you wouldn’t have to wake up to another heartbreak.

If you had thought the streetlights at night were a curse last night, then now you found yourself thinking that any and all kinds of outside light had been invented just to make whoever inhabited this room as miserable as possible.

The morning sun shone right into your eyes even through the curtains at 6 am. Even if you hadn’t spent the entire night in a restless limbo between sleep and trying to solve the mystery of Jihoon’s words, you would've been upset to awaken to the horrid rays of bright sunshine.

The more you woke up, the more your world seemed to be upside down. Sometime at night, Jihoon’s arms had wrapped around you, tight and secure as they held you close to his chest. His lips were pressed to your temple. You almost wished he’d never wake up so you could enjoy this embrace for an eternity.

But another part of you didn’t want to face the disappointment of him jerking away from you as he’d wake up, embarrassed to have ever cuddled you in his sleep.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to detangle yourself from his limbs. Finger by finger, you pulled yourself free. You were just about to roll off his left arm when it suddenly curled and effortlessly pulled you back into his chest.

When you looked at him, Jihoon wore a frown and a pout. “You were supposed to stay.”

“I did,” you whispered, unsure if he was really awake yet or not. 

“Stay longer,” he demanded almost childishly, wrapping his newly free arm around you once again. “It’s still early.”

Your brain was trying hard to convince you that he thought you were someone else. Then he mumbled your name again and you saw his eyes slowly flutter open. Instead of pulling away and apologising like you expected him to, he offered you a smile. 

“What?” He chuckled, voice gravelly from sleep. 

You hesitated. But you knew that if you didn’t get answers, you’d drive yourself insane. “Do you…” You swallowed. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

His brows furrowed just a little but his lips remained in a pleasant smile. “About what?”

“About the girl who you’ve wanted to ask out for years but never did,” you supplied softly. “And about us being friends?”

The joy melted from his face. His eyes wavered. His lips quivered. He gave them a nervous lick before practically gasping for air. He remembered.

You tried to choose your words carefully, you really did. But they still came out all clumsy like they always did. “Is the girl me?”

He looked like he’d been caught in a crime. But his arms remained around you – you wondered if he was filled with the same selfishness you’d felt the night before: the urge to enjoy this feeling of closeness before it could get ripped away forever.

“How’d you know?” he whispered. 

“You said something last night,” you told him carefully. “Something that made me realise that maybe you feel … the same way as I do.”

He avoided your eyes, looking around the room. Then his gaze snapped back to you, suddenly full of clarity. “The same way?”

This was it, you realised. It was now or never. It was true love or losing your best friend. Except you weren’t sure you could still be friends even if you didn’t pour your heart out – could you look him in the eyes again and not think about the words he said last night? 

“Jihoon, I think–” The words were on the tip of your tongue, clinging to it like it was their last lifeline. It was hard to say what you wanted to.

His face, so devoid of joy just moments before, had lit up with hope. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. I thought I could keep it a secret and not ruin our friendship,” you told him through nervous laughter, turning to look at the ceiling, “but now I’m not so sure I could have.”

“What made you change your mind?” he wondered as he looked at you with nothing short of awe. 

“When you were talking about that girl last night,” you were still struggling to breathe, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “I was so heartbroken. I was going to cry all through the night. Then you said something that made me think… It made me think, or maybe foolishly hope, that you meant me. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you mean me–?”

“I love you,” he replied before you could even finish your sentence. A smile appeared and you were filled with relief as he leaned his head closer to press against yours. “I’ve been in love with you since 7th grade. I thought I’d never get to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded to know.

His breath sounded more like a hopeless laugh. “I didn’t want to lose you. I thought there was no way you’d love me back.”

“Clearly you were wrong.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and surged forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer. You savoured the feeling, pressing closer to him, tugging him closer with a hand on the back of his head. He pulled back and laughed again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Good thing you can do it again as many times as you please,” you told him with a smile. “You know, I’ve always hated Valentine’s day, but you have a real shot at changing that right now.”

The door burst open just as he matched your grin and began to lean closer. Startled, the two of you looked up. Clad in a tiger-striped onesie, Soonyoung stood at the door, eyes wide. Moments of awkward silence passed. Then his face broke out into a wide grin and he slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click just a second later, followed by an almost villainous laughter.

You exchanged startled looks with Jihoon. Then he shrugged and leaned forward to kiss you again.

“All the more time to make up for the lost years,” he told you as he pulled you closer. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Author's Note: I both loved and hated writing this fic. If at any point, you found yourself thinking "huh, i wish the writer did more with this random crumb in this story that looks like it should've been a part of something bigger", i can almost guarantee you i had plans to do something with it and then forgot or abandoned the idea mid-way through.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this fic at least moderately and if you did, please feel free to reblog with comments or leave an emoji-filled reply or maybe even send me an ask to let me know what you thought!

[elleandstufff]

Let's Play a Game -`✮´- Part 2

Young and in the club scene due to the family business, you meet an up-and-coming rapper who calls himself Thanos. As the two of you become deeply embedded in the dark world of fame, money, and drugs, you begin to wonder if you can make it out alive. Pre-games, during the games, and post-games Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: Club setting, moderate drinking, reader’s dad kinda sucks, reader’s mom is dead, discussion of childhood trauma (including parent with addiction, overdose, death of a parent, physical/verbal abuse), hurt/comfort, pet names galore, dialogue spoken in English is written in bold italics, 3.2k words

Part 1 Masterlist

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊

The next evening you arrive at the club before opening, anxious, hungry, and on four hours of sleep. Unfortunately, you know this scenario all too well. Most days are like this for you, but that just comes with the lifestyle. 

You are, however, a bit more anxious than normal. The reason why you got less sleep than normal is because a certain underground rapper plagued your thoughts. He was like no one you had ever met before. The many men you met over the last couple years mainly wanted to take advantage of you, so you swore to stop giving anyone a chance. Your father and brothers had even told you that you would never meet a decent man at the club. Now you were questioning everything you had ever believed all over a guy who got his stage name from a purple alien. 

Su-bong had been so sweet, yet persistent, last night that you were sure he would come back and prove that he was interested in more than some baseless sex or money. After leaving the club last night, you began to worry. What if you played too hard to get? What if he never came back and you never saw him again? The thought made your mind race and your stomach turn. 

Your first task of the night was to approach the front bouncers and make sure that Su-bong could get into the club if he showed up. Your heart drops when you get to their station and see that none of the bouncers were here the night before–meaning that none of them would recognize Su-bong. You approach anyway, determined to not let this be the reason that your plan fails. 

“Hi, I have someone that I need to make sure gains entry tonight. Someone who isn’t on my usual list.” You smile sweetly to cover up your nervousness. 

“Sure, Miss Social. What is her name?” The bouncer asks, expecting it to be another one of your girl friends. 

“Um, his name is Choi Su-bong, but he might go by Thanos.” 

The bouncer looks at you through a quirked eyebrow as he writes the information down on his clipboard. “Right… and do you have a picture of him?”

“Well, no.” You frown. “But he’s tall, dark hair, brown eyes-”

“Sorry, but that describes most of the guys who come through here. I really need a picture to be able to spot him in the line.” 

You sigh, then pull out your phone for your last ditch effort. You type Thanos into instagram and scroll through a couple profiles until you find the one that is indisputably his. Tapping on a picture that clearly shows his face, you hold it up to the bouncer eye level. He quirks his eyebrows at you yet again and uses his own phone to snap a picture. “Your dad know about this?”

“No, and if you don’t tell him I can give you an extra day's pay on your next paycheck.” 

The bouncer pretends to lock his lips and throw away the key and you excuse yourself. With step one done, now you need to ask a favor from your father without tipping him off. You find him upstairs in his office typing away on his computer. 

“Hi, Appa,” you say, entering the room cautiously. 

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he responds absentmindedly without looking up from his computer. 

You sit on the edge of his desk. “You know that new rapper guy the other night was pretty good…” You continue when the only acknowledgement your father gives is a mhm. “I was thinking maybe we could add him to our line up permanently, or at least for a while.”

“I don’t know, Princess. Our schedule is already pretty booked. Plus I don’t want to take more out of our budget to pay a rapper that no one even knows.”

For once you’re glad your father isn’t paying attention to you so that he misses the massive eye roll you give. You know very well that the budget is more than okay. “Appa, it would just be a very small amount of money, and he would still only have that fifteen minute slot. It’s not much, but then when he makes it big we could say that he got his start here.”

Your father considers for a minute. “Okay, whatever you think is best.”

“Thank you, Appa!” You hop off the desk and lean down to give your father a hug, He reciprocates the hug and gives you a kiss on the forehead all without tearing his eyes away from his stupid fucking computer. 

Back downstairs, you help around until open to calm your nerves. Once people start trickling in you keep your eyes peeled, hoping to catch a glance of a tall and handsome rapper. After an hour you feel a pit form in your stomach. He probably wasn’t coming back. Why would he? 

You wipe a stray tear from your eye and head to the bar to find something to do. There’s no point in crying over a guy you met one time. “Do you need any help?” you ask the head bartender. 

“V.I.P. table three just put in a big order. Think you can take it to them?”

She loads a tray up with several drinks and you carefully maneuver your way through the crowd to the V.I.P. table. As you pass out their drinks, several of the men’s hands linger against yours for longer than comfortable. You pull away and ignore their seductive smiles that they’ve been giving you for years now, even before you were of legal age. 

You shudder as you walk away, when all of a sudden you feel a pair of hands grab you by the waist and pull you into them. You’re about to throw a punch before you hear your favorite deep voice in your ear. “You miss me, baby?”

You turn around in his grasp and place your arms around his neck when he doesn’t break his grasp on your waist. “You came back.” 

“Of course I did. I was promised the phone number of the prettiest girl in all of Seoul.” You blush and he continues. “I was a bit worried I wasn’t going to be able to get in with how long the line was and how exclusive this place is, but right after I got in line the bouncer found me and told me I was on Miss Social’s special entry list. He even had a picture of me and everything. You stalking my Instagram now, baby?”

“It was either that or you weren’t getting in.” You playfully roll your eyes. “Let’s get some drinks and go sit down somewhere. I need to talk to you.”

He follows after you with his hand on the small of your back. “Is that a good talk to you or a bad talk to you?” 

You giggle at the slight worry on his face. “Good.” 

You find another secluded couch in the back of the club. Here the lights are dim, casting shadows across your features. Between the seclusion and the darkness, you feel like you are the only two here despite the music blasting throughout the building. He helps you sit first before joining you. He slides his body right up against yours, and this time you just let yourself relax. Su-bong rests his arm across the back of the couch behind you, his eyes looking straight into your soul. 

“So… how would you feel about performing here every night?” 

“That would be a dream come true.”

“Well, then I guess your dream came true.” You smile at him and his eyes grow wide when he realizes that you’re being serious. 

“What? How?”

You shrug. “I pulled some strings.” 

He brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “I knew you’d be my good girl.” 

He places a hand against your cheek and you welcome the comfort. You lean into his hand and the two of you look at each other through heavy-lidded eyes. You feel at peace, for once, until you see a familiar face heading toward you. 

“Holy shit, it’s my dad!” In your fear and haste to put space between you two, you accidentally shove Su-bong away harsher than you meant to. You see a flash of hurt on his face, but he acts nonchalantly anyway. 

Your father finally lays eyes on you as he approaches. “There you are, Angel! Been looking all over for you.” Confusion spreads across his features when he sees Su-bong. “Who’s this?”

You clear your throat, worried about getting caught. “Appa, this is Su-bong. He’s the new rapper I was telling you about…” 

“Hmm, nice to meet you.” Your father throws his hand up for him to shake. Su-bong doesn’t miss a beat as he shakes your father’s hand, but you see his other hand nervously fiddling with his vape under the table. 

Your father looks toward you. “I’m thinking about going home early tonight. It’s a pretty quiet night in terms of crowd and I think the rest of the staff have it handled. Let me drive you home.”

“No, Appa, I will just come home later-”

“Angel, I drove you here, I'm going to drive you home.” You begrudgingly start to stand. “Let me drive your friend home too.” 

“Oh, no, sir…” Su-bong tries to decline the offer. “It’s fine, really.”

“Well you took the subway, right?” Your father says to Su-bong, a hint of judgement in his tone that you don’t like. 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Then let me save you the trip.” 

Your father urges you out of the booth with a hand on your arm. You shoot Su-bong an apologetic look, but you’re forced to walk through the club. Once you reach the crisp air of the outside world, you’re surprised to see Su-bong still with you. You uncomfortably wait for the driver to pull around. When the black car approaches, your dad holds the back door open for you and Su-bong to slide into. Your father sits in the front seat, his aura making the atmosphere tense. Su-bong gives his address and the car goes into motion. 

You stay silent throughout the car ride, mostly staring out the window at the night lights of Seoul. The car stops sometime later outside of an apartment building. Su-bong thanks your father for the ride, and you turn to him before he exits the vehicle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He turns to you and gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. You watch him head up the stairs to the apartment then throw your head in your hands. He didn’t get your number again and your dad acted like an asshole and probably scared him off. Now he definitely wasn’t coming back. 

You wait to say anything until you get home to spare the driver from having to be involved. You can tell your father is doing the same. Once at home, you storm inside the large house and try to make a beeline for your room, but your father stops you. 

“You don’t need to be talking to this boy.” 

“You just had to ruin everything, didn’t you?” 

“So he is your boyfriend?” 

“No!” You shout, anger pent up inside you. “But he’s the only friend I’ve made that I’m actually sure isn’t just using me to gain something! And you had to be rude to him because he wasn’t born into a rich family like I was.”

Your father sighs. “Friend or not you just don’t need to be talking to boys, Princess.” 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊

The next evening Su-bong shows up again by some miracle. Since he’s performing, he gets there early and you make a beeline for him. You reach to give him a hug, to apologize, but he backs away. You recoil, your face downtrodden. 

“Just don’t want to get you in trouble with your dad again.” 

“He doesn’t come down that often,” you say. 

“He did last night.” 

“That was different-” you plead, but he cuts you off. 

“Just don’t want your dad to think poorly about you the way my dad always thought about me.” 

You look down. You didn’t know that about his dad. You feel fat tears welling up in your eyes at the enormous complexity of the situation–you’re angry at your father, you feel guilty about making Su-bong feel like he’s the problem, and you don’t want to lose Su-bong before you even have him. “Can we talk more? I know a place.”

He follows your lead until you enter an unlabeled room. When you first walk in there’s box-filled shelves, but at the back lies a giant bean bag and some blankets. 

“What is this?” Su-bong asks. 

“Storage closet I guess. I don’t think anyone has used it in a long time. When I was sixteen I found it and put the bean bag in. Don’t get me wrong I love the atmosphere here, but coming here every single night of your life can get a bit tiresome at times.”

“Your dad is freakishly overprotective of you, but he let you start coming here when you were sixteen?” 

You laugh bitterly. “My nanny retired when I was sixteen. I don’t think he wanted to hire another one.” 

“You had a nanny at sixteen?” 

“I’m surprised I don’t still have a nanny,” you say. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad very much. I’m thankful for the life I’ve been given, but I wish he would give me a little space. He’s just trying to keep a tighter rein on me than he kept on my mom.” 

“Did she leave?” He asks cautiously. 

“She left this planet,” you say, then backtrack when you see his bewildered expression. “It’s okay, it was almost ten years ago.”

Su-bong’s encouraging eyes urge you to go on and you spill your guts. You tell him everything. You tell him about how you were an accident, your brothers much older than you. You tell him that your father was too committed to his job and your brothers too busy with school or work or girlfriends to ever be around. It was just you and Mom for the first part of your life. But being so close meant that she didn’t hide the most secret part of her life–the part that no one else bothered to notice. Day after day you watched your mother pop more and more pills. Our secret she would whisper. You didn’t quite understand what the pills did, but you knew they hurt her. So you would grab them by the handful and flush them down the toilet or bury them in a flower pot. But they always came back. One night you cuddled up to watch a movie and watched her eat them like candy. Our secret she whispered right before you fell asleep curled against her body. When you awoke in the early hours of the morning, her body was cold, her eyes glossy. You hit at her chest and screamed at her but you knew it was no use. Before you called your father you frantically ran throughout the giant house collecting all of her stashes and throwing them out. When the police questioned your father they asked if she had an addiction. No, I never saw anything he said back to them. What about you, Angel? You looked the police officer and your father in the eyes and said you never saw a thing.

You look over at Su-bong with a sad smile. “You have no idea how good that feels to get off my chest to someone I can trust.”

He rubs circles on your back and leans the two of you back on the beanbag, entangling your legs together. Then, he tells you everything. He tells you about how his family was good once upon a time, until his father started guzzling whiskey by the bottle. Then he started being mean to both Su-bong and his mother. Nothing about them was good enough. Then the physical abuse started, and it didn’t end until they ran away one night after he passed out. 

You lie there in the bean-bag that is definitely too small for the two of you for quite a while. Just fingers tracing shapes on thighs, backs, arms. Eventually you know that it’s time to go so he can perform. But you turn to him seriously first, “I don’t want this to end. I like talking to you. Can’t we just hide from my dad?” 

He pulls you to your feet. “Course, good girl.”

He performs. It’s brief but you’re right there the whole time in the front row soaking it all in. After his performance you dance together, then order way too many drinks and head up to your secret spot. By the end of the night you’re both pretty drunk and you finally remember that he still doesn’t have your number. 

“My phone has been dead for hours, Sweetheart.”

“Why does something happen at the end of every night that prevents you from getting my number?” You whine. 

“I’ll just remember it!” 

You groan. It’s nearly four in the morning, he’s drunk, and there’s no way he’ll remember your number until he can get home and charge his phone. But you tell him anyway. 

The following day you awake still tired, as usual. You’re dragging yourself and your blanket to the living room to relax on the couch for a bit when you see a message on your phone. What time does my princess wake up? Need to know when to send good morning… I mean good afternoon texts.

You’re absolutely beaming. You can’t believe he managed to remember your number. The next hour is spent texting him nonstop and not even trying to hide the smile on your face. You feel like a high-schooler again, even though high school wasn’t that long ago. 

“Who the hell are you talking to and smiling that big?” 

You smack a hand over your heart. “Jesus, Tae, you scared me!” 

Your brother walks into the living room holding a bowl of cereal in his hands. He’s still quite a bit older than you, but he is the sibling closest in age to you, so you have always been closest to him. He doesn’t live at home anymore, so you weren’t expecting him.

“So? Who you talking to?”

You roll your eyes. “My friends.”

“Those fake ass friends? Yeah, you totally smile like that when talking to them,” he says sarcastically. He snatches the phone from your hands and reads your screen with big eyes. You try to yank the phone back but it’s too late. “Su-bong with a heart emoji?!” 

“Give it back! He’s just my friend.” You snatch the phone from him and bury it in your blanket to protect it from getting stolen again. 

“Holy shit, isn’t that the rapper you just hired on at The Social? You realize Dad is gonna kill him, right?” 

“I’m nineteen, almost twenty. I’m allowed to talk to a guy if I want to. Besides, Dad’s not gonna kill him,” you say sternly. “Because you are not going to tell him.”

“So that Dad can kill me when he finds out that I knew and didn’t tell him? Yeah, no way.” 

“When you were my age I covered for you for far worse things. Just let me have this one thing, for once in my life.” 

He looks at you weird and you realize that you’re genuinely pleading with him. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t get all weird and emotional on me.” 

He walks off and you clutch your phone to your chest. Just let me have this one thing, you ask the universe. 

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[contentloadingandstuff]

Smut Headcanons - Furina & Navia

A/N: While I have the Furina stuff I promised (smut + relationship + parenting headcanons) ready, I decided to split them up in three posts to go with another character. This way, the reader can enjoy exactly what they want. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Nothing, just vanilla ice cream here.

Furina de Fontaine? Yes, of course she is nothing if not the best at this whole “sex” thing! There are hardly any things she struggles with less than marital fornication, she'll have you know! 

Please go easy on her. She has no idea whatsoever. 

While it's true that throughout her long life she had read through many explicit books and brochures, mostly without pictures, her lack of personal interaction with the male body leads to her being quite clueless the first few times around. She doesn't really know how to please you, more - she barely even knows what she likes herself.

It's natural for gods to be less sexual than humans, which is all the more unfortunate for Furina. She kept the lifespan, but was left with a human set of emotions and needs that was doomed to wither over the centuries. But not all is lost - now that her days of godhood are over and she could finally become human - with a human lifespan and the ability to fully express her emotions. It will take time, but, with enough practice, she'll catch up. 

Communication is key. Don't hesitate to “order” her around. Tell her what feels good, what doesn't, what you'd like her to do and more. Furina will follow your example and share what she can - although the storm of moans and whimpers should serve as more than enough of a pointer. 

Furina is surprisingly confident in the bedroom. When she finds something she likes, she'll definitely let you know. She will, between shivering and gripping the sheets, encourage you or give you some pointers, as much as her state will allow. She's not scared to initiate and when she does, she always goes in with a plan. Knocking her off balance with some teasing of your own is sure to leave her in tatters though…

Furina is quite the fan of plays and works talking about romance, so her view of the subject is much closer to “making love” than to any other way to describe sex. As such, she enjoys plenty of prep before the main event - a romantic dinner, some proper foreplay, some teasing beforehand… She enjoys working yourselves up to the main thing. Getting in the right mood is a must for her, and when she's there, there's no keeping her hands off you.

Don't let her outspoken and loud way of carrying herself fool you - the closer you get to her, the more shy Furina becomes - especially if no clothes are involved. She'll have you believe that it's completely natural for a small girl like her to be intimidated by a taller and far stronger man, unwilling to openly state that she happily lays back and lets you do whatever you want to her most days. 

On the occasion that she has something specific in mind, it usually involves a bit of dressing up - she's quite fond of theater, after all. She can afford costumes and dresses galore, both for you and herself. It does take quite a bit of time, getting herself perfectly dolled up for the occasion, but it's no problem - seeing herself so disheveled, undressed and messy after you're done with her is totally worth the effort. 

A nice session of light play-acting is Furina’s favourite way to spice things up. She can be whoever you want - a damsel in distress, longing for the body of her noble knight, an actress getting some more hands-on rehearsals, or perhaps her favourite - the shy, freshly taken bride. Furina never parted with her wedding dress and takes it out for a spin, from time to time. It fits her perfectly, and thanks to Chiori’s expertise in material selection, is also easy to clean from… certain substances. 

But sometimes all Furina wants to do is let loose, be herself and just get some lovely, passionate pounding. Doggy no doubt has its bonuses in that regard, but she’d much rather see your face twist in pleasure as her slick hole pleasures you to completion. She enjoys missionary the most, with her hands clasping around yours for support or desperately clinging onto the sheets below. Furina is all about kissing, so expect your mouth to be occupied, and remember - nothing is hotter for her than you looking her straight in the eye as you nut inside. She won’t complain if you boast about how much you’ve filled her up - after all, you’re quite the lover, and it’s only right for you to be proud of what you can do to her. 

Don’t be alarmed if you find Furina shedding a few tears while her guts are being rearranged - that’s just how she responds to overstimulation. She doesn’t want you to stop any time soon, of course… But a kiss and a squeeze of her hand would surely motivate her to take you further in! 

She spends a lot of time grooming herself to perfection, with most of the time going towards shaving herself. She enjoys nice, smooth skin everywhere below the neck. Furina does mind hair, and you would make her very happy if you kept yourself like that as well. Why would she want to have all this nasty hair obscuring the goods? 

Furina is aware of how unlucky she is, to be created with not much of a cleavage. She tends to be hyper aware of her deficiency - or at least that’s how she views it. Your girl tends to skip out on nipple or boob play for that exact reason. She’s yours, and so is her body - if her body can’t offer you all it should, she’s not a good wife, is she? She would love you to be able to slide your cock between them and fuck them to completion, but they are, unfortunately, very flat. Over time, however, your love and encouragement helped her dismiss these harmful beliefs of inadequacy. So much so that she's grown to cherish her form.

She's proud of what she has, and loves to show herself off with expensive sets of lingerie. Unlike, say, the extendable cutlery she bought, these come in use regularly. She always picks those one size smaller to accentuate the nice fluff around her thighs and belly - a woman must have some plush on herself, after all! Couple that with long gloves and thigh highs, one darker and one brighter to match her eyes of course, and you've got yourself an outfit Furina feels beautiful in. 

And desired, too. They are nice, yes, but not as much as the feeling of you stripping them off her. She likes passion, and very much enjoys seeing you lose control of your desire for her. Don't hold your moans, say whatever comes to mind - even if it is her name over and over and over again, she will listen intently and whine your name in concert. 

The bed’s your stage, while you and her play the main roles. 

For her, you are the main attraction of the show. You and your glorious, male body. Navia? She's a big fan of that. 

The straight posture, the beautifully flat, strong chest, these powerful arms, the big hands, the meaty calves… You're incredibly handsome, so why wouldn't she spend her nights worshiping and touching you? 

When it comes to herself, she doesn't mind most things. Sure, she likes being the center of your attention, but being the receiver excites her much less than giving. While she'll take a long while to cum with your tongue, just sucking you off is enough to make her squirt on her fingers. Sex is all good, but she'll be more passionate if you just lay back and let her do the work. 

Let her take the lead - here, you're the star, and she's more than eager to see you enjoy yourself. Navia loves servicing you and bringing out those delicious, deep moans and sighs. She gets absolutely soaking at the thought that it's all the doing of her skillful hands and abundant body. 

Navia Rich cleavage, fat butt and a spacious pussy - Navia has it all, and you're more than welcome to help yourself. She'll be thrilled if you make good and frequent use of her, as - surprise surprise - women have needs too. It's unfair - why can you be absolutely horny for her, but it's improper for her to drool over you? Well, that's how it is in public, but behind closed doors, you're game. 

Navia is the unchallenged queen of handling your manhood. Learning about you, memorising the shape of your cock, adjusting her insides to fit you like a glove, learning where to touch to make you shiver… It was great fun, and Navia enjoys having the chance to explore you further with various kinks. She's not going to say no to anything when it comes to your hefty package, that's for sure. 

While not having much for herself, Navia owns a host of toys to use on you in the sheets. Would you like her to tie you up? Maybe edge you with a pocket pussy? How about tying the base of your cock for some extended sessions? Whatever you want, whatever you need, she likely has it in her collection - and if she doesn't, it won't be for long. All she needs is your word.

Navia is known for her positive and energetic approach to her role, but every girl needs a pick-me-up once in a while, doesn't she? Navia won't mind if you come over and sneak with her into a closet or let her get under the desk for some naughty time~

Nothing turns her on more than your pleasure. Seeing your hand tighten around the armrest as she edges you, feeling your hand push her head up and down as you use her throat as a toy or hearing you struggle to get all the cum out when she milks you for all your worth is something she greatly looks forward to. So much so that, if you give her this privilege, she'll whip out a Kamera to keep that moment for years to come. 

Of course, it will be focused on you. She wants to capture what she loves the most - your pleasure. She'll let the Kamera roll as you rail her into the bed, capturing all these lovely moans and expressions of bliss, as well as your grunts as you selfishly chase your own pleasure, uncaring if she will handle the pounding. One of her favourites is recording your balls as they slam against her cunt in doggy or missionary, capturing your voice and the obscene noises her pussy makes as your fuck her to completion. She'll return to them when she’s away, rubbing and fingering herself to the image of you in careless, primal bliss. 

That's another thing she loves to see - primal lust. The sight of you senselessly and violently fucking a toy is her favourite thing to get off to, especially that she knows she's going to be the toy next. Be rough with her - she can take it. Just don't you dare go silent on her, now! You have a voice, so use it - moan, whine, sigh and growl for her. Navia wants to know just how much you enjoy using her body. 

But sometimes she's in a more needy mood, especially when you've been quiet the last few times around. Navia knows that there's nothing worse for a guy than denial, so she'll strap you down and play with your dick, edging you without pause until you cry and beg for release. Or, alternatively, she'll work your head and prostate, forcing you to give up everything in your balls to her. The longer it goes on, the more you struggle, and the more frantic your pleas become. Music to her ears. 

Navia finds it so hot when you act needy, even when it's as simple as asking for some attention. Want a handy? She'll give you a helping hand, no questions asked. Need your balls emptied with some mouth work? Navia is on the case. You're in need of a quickie? Feel free to bend her over and yank those panties down - she's on the pill, so cum away. Be ready to zip down your fly for her too - sometimes, a quick suck can really lift her spirits. When she has a day off, expect lots of messing in the sheets. 

Morning sex? Yes please! She'll gladly have you wake up to lewd sounds of slurping and her lips wrapped around your cock, if you'll let her. And once you fully wake up, you'll get to feel her ride you in the rays of the morning light. 

She's the type of girl that loves cum. Expect lots of positive encouragement to blow your load, no matter if it comes quickly - it's a compliment for her doing a great job, right? When you finally give in to her talented ministrations, she'll make sure to put on a show for you. Each part of her (except the hair, cum is quite annoying to get out of there without taking a shower) is fair game when it comes to coming. If you feel like giving her a mouthful, she'll swallow it up and show you a clean mouth as proof. Her favourite spot, though, is the face - it might mess with her make-up, but its warmth and smell feels so naughtily good on her face, and she'll make sure you're watching her gather it up and lick it off her fingers with a proud, smug smirk.

Navia isn't a fan of condoms, not at all. She’d much rather take a pill or slap on a patch than wrap you in rubber. Besides, Navia always wanted to have plenty of kids, so when the time comes, she'll passionately encourage you to knock her up. Having her stomach swollen with a baby - that you put into her, which she will make sure to praise you for - makes her feel beautiful, even if she has to buy bigger clothes. Luckily for her, she can still suck your cock with a big belly, so it's not much of a problem in that department. 

With Navia, it's cowgirl all the way. Not only do you get to see her tits swing and her beautiful face, but you also get a taste of her excellent riding skills. She likes this position as it allows her to see your face contorted in pleasure. She will adjust the pace and depth to better milk you, or keep you on the edge of orgasm and enjoy seeing you lose your mind to pleasure. 

Thanks for reading!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Knight König who, after bravelly defending the castle alone and saving all the beautiful young maidens, is now *gasp* alone with them!! You and the rest of the young ladies are not even married yet and this whole horror of a siege came :(( you had to be locked inside the maiden tower with the other ladies, praying to the gods that someone strong would defend you, and here he was!! The giant knight from the north from whom you were always herded away 'because a brute like him has no business with fine young ladies like yourselves' :((

Imagine König who is for the time being the only male in the small castle, the foe has been defeated but any kind of help will take days to arrive :( During the fighting his mind was on slaying all the enemies to defend the flock of the frightened ladies but now...??

He's the only male among a dozen of maidens!! And these poor does are so scared in their tower on comfy beds of furs with all the supplies...so many warm, soft bodies to keep him warm and 'aid him to help his wounds', so many broad hips and breasts to grab and squeeze for comfort...oh and they are so ready to share all the supplies with him!!

I mean...who's to say that a war hero doesn't deserve something good too? :D

GFDFSSSS first I was like "gangbang medieval style yeehaw let's gooo" but then I had another quick idea (in all honesty writing gangbangs make me blush furiously lmao I'm weak!)

CW: Fear of SA, mention of blood, boners galore, dubcon groping, period typical attitudes, gender roles etc.

Knight!König asking you to wash him (because he was seated next to you at this one feast and now he's obsessed...)

König, who never had time for women because he was always on duty, whose best chances for a wife were an old widow or some soiled woman, whatever that meant... Probably some lowly lady, for a lowly knight like him. His family must hate him because they keep him from having even that: instead, he gets shipped off to this outpost of a castle that houses hundreds of soldiers and only a few women. Even they are kept under lock and key most of the time, and it's no wonder... A man like him shouldn't even be dreaming of dipping his dick in the pretty soft things of the Maiden’s tower.

König, who even to his own surprise, finds himself victorious after weeks of siege. Who's left completely unchecked and alone with a flock of scared fawns, poor does who are now gathering together for warmth and safety. They only have tiny daggers and iron scissors as their weapons against an armed knight, knowing they’re not always safe even from their own men – especially after a battle.

Even the strongest, most valiant knights get tired during a siege, turning into starved animals after a few weeks. A soldier fresh from war is the worst thing, having his cock up after bloodying his sword, they usually need to have a woman as soon as possible. A victorious knight, finding himself winning against all the odds, would surely prefer to fuck every single one of the soft cunts locked up in the women's tower...

So König, who batters the door and orders the frightened women to lift the baulk, only gets screams as an answer. They finally open it when he says he's tired after a fight and only wants to rest for a bit, puts on his most charming smile as the huge wooden door creaks open, and meets the ladies with a wide grin despite having blood all over him, stands proudly in his full height with his sword still drawn, a path of entrails and cut limbs behind him – why are they still screaming? He saved them! He should be given a royal welcome!

König, who finally gets the women to calm down a little when they notice he is not about to rape them on sight, who wipes his sword with one of their finest, freshly dyed wools (rude!). Who sheathes his weapon and smiles again, suggesting that they help him out of his plate and give him a wash – he’s earned that much, no?

König, who eats from their bowls as if he has never even seen food, who gawks at their tapestries with curiosity, who tries to stare down their necklines and catch a sight of those beautiful, round, plush tits. Most women quickly rush to heat the water to escape the possible groping about to ensue, while you are left with the task of getting him out of his armor.

The straps are small and endless, the armor consists of dozens of different parts, and he just keeps on grinning widely while you’re at it, giving you odd compliments and passages of courtly love with his mouth full of food. Some of his ramblings are straight out of a troubadour’s song, but you don’t believe a word he says, especially when his heated stare is fixed on your exposed neck, the collarbones so frail, the cascading wool that reveals your wrists as you try to pry your way under the heavy, bloodied pauldron.

Of course he remembers you, down to the minutest detail because he got to feed and take care of you at last winter's great feast... Someone had fucked up and seated you next to him in their error, and he heedily took advantage of the situation. He even managed to have a grope at you when the lords and ladies weren’t watching because they were so drunk.

He was drunk too, intoxicated by the strong ale and the shy stares you granted him. You didn’t do a thing when he pulled you closer and practically fed you some deer off your shared plate, tried if you'd fancy a date or a sip of wine while keeping you tightly tucked in his lap. He couldn’t get enough of you: your tiny gasp when you felt him grow hard, your whimper when he stole a soft squeeze of your tit… Your shy ghost of a smile as you demurely called him “Sir” and told him to stop before he gets you both into trouble. 

Ever since that night, he has dreamed of you when pulling out his leaking cock. Sinned until he felt embarrassed to go to the chapel and yet again confess that he has defiled himself with his hand and thoughts of you. Ever since that night, he has wondered whether you are giving those whimpers to someone else nowadays…

But here you are, in the tower, taking off his plates and using all your strength to get him out of his chainmail. Why haven’t you been married off yet? Why aren't you making blankets and throws at some fancy lord's castle by now? You have the perfect hips for delivery, it's practically a sin to keep a woman like you locked up in a military fortress…

And polite curtsies and shy, downcast eyes won't save you now, you know that.

How can you say no to a knight, ordering you to give him a wash? “Do him the honor,” he says, while anyone can see he’s already hard.

There’s nothing the others can do but put up a curtain and leave you two to your featherlight privacy. He doesn’t even bother to undress behind it, simply flaunts that monstrous thing between his legs for everyone to see before giving you the honor of strolling to the steaming bath. A soft silence fills the tower as the knight, tall as a legend, hairy as a beast, climbs into the small wooden tub with a grunted sigh.

You, the maiden he picked, can only look in horror as he grows even harder under the hot water. The thick erection soon juts above the surface, the dark curls framing the base of his cock now floating lusciously underwater, the dark hair covering his full balls, too. Either he's just big everywhere or then he's been too busy during the weeks of the siege... The amount of times you've seen him abstain from meat in this castle is ridiculous, and you always wondered if he ate fish because he liked it or because he had defiled himself in his lust.

He's an animal, but having a woman is not a sin as foul as throwing his seed on the ground... And here he is, strong thighs spreading as far as they can go to give room to the astounding erection he’s having just from the prospect of your touch.

The knight leans back in the tub, looks at you with a drowsy, soft smile, and tells you not to be afraid. The thick, throaty voice leaves your knees completely weak.

“Ach so... Have you ever touched one of these before?”

[jellofish-plant]

Flame Meets Fury

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Powered!Reader

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jason Todd is never boring—especially when you’ve got powers that can rival even the craziest of Gotham’s chaos. From vigilante missions to lazy nights at home, you and Jason navigate love, danger, and superpowered shenanigans.

Warnings:

A little language (it’s Jason Todd, after all)

Power mishaps and teasing

[Masterlist]

General Dynamic:

Mutual Respect: Jason admires your powers but never treats you like you're invincible or above him. He knows you're strong, but he’s fiercely protective, even when you don’t need him to be.

Banter Galore: If your powers involve something flashy (e.g., controlling fire, energy manipulation), Jason will joke about you stealing his thunder when fighting bad guys. “And here I thought I was the intimidating one.”

Training Together: Jason pushes you hard in training to make sure you can hold your own, not because he doubts your abilities, but because he wants you to be prepared for anything Gotham throws at you.

Combat & Vigilante Work:

Dynamic Duo: Your powers add a unique edge to your team-ups. Jason likes coordinating attacks, incorporating your abilities into his plans seamlessly.

Battle Banter: Jason can't resist making quips while fighting. If you’re doing something over-the-top with your powers, he might tease, “Show-off much?”

Healing Moments: If your powers include healing, Jason appreciates how quickly you patch him up after fights. He often jokes, “Don’t get too good at this, or I’ll lose my rugged charm.”

Domestic Life:

Power Mishaps: Sometimes, your powers get out of control at home, leading to funny or chaotic situations. Jason might come home to find you frantically trying to fix a scorched couch or repair the fridge you accidentally froze.

Helping Hand: Jason secretly loves when you use your powers to make mundane tasks easier. He acts grumpy about it but secretly enjoys it when you float items over to him or speed through chores.

Safety Net: If your powers include something like creating shields or force fields, Jason appreciates how you subtly use them to protect him in day to day situations, even if he doesn’t always admit it.

Emotional Connection:

Understanding Each Other’s Burdens: Jason relates to the weight of your abilities, especially if they come with responsibility or guilt. He opens up about his own struggles with being resurrected and the Red Hood mantle in late-night conversations.

Comfort During Nightmares: If your powers are tied to emotions, Jason instinctively knows when something’s off with you. He’ll hold you close and remind you that he’s there to ground you when things get overwhelming.

Vulnerability: Despite being tough, Jason has moments where he lets his guard down, admitting how your powers can make him feel vulnerable—not because he’s intimidated, but because he worries about you putting yourself at risk.

Fun Moments:

Pranks: Jason loves teaming up with you to prank the Batfamily using your powers. Whether it’s floating Alfred’s tray or making Damian’s sword disappear, you two are the ultimate mischief-makers.

Showing Off: Jason low-key loves watching you use your powers, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, yeah, very impressive,” he’ll say, but his smirk betrays him.

Power-Enhanced Cuddles: If your powers include creating warmth or generating soft light, Jason enjoys cuddling with you, especially on cold Gotham nights. He’ll joke that you’re his personal heater.

Batfamily Reactions:

Dick’s Teasing: Dick teases Jason endlessly about dating someone with powers. “Guess you finally met someone who can keep up with your attitude, huh?” Jason’s response is usually a death glare.

Alfred’s Approval: Alfred appreciates how your powers complement Jason’s fiery personality, and he often slips in kind remarks about how you’re good for him.

Damian’s Skepticism: Damian might act unimpressed, but he secretly thinks your powers are cool—he’s just too stubborn to admit it.

[kosmicdream]

decided to type up my FFAK characters sexualities/preferences.. honestly i dont know why. just felt like it. probably forgot a few characters but i tried to include as many as possible!

FFAK characters sexualities

Knife - gay. Strictly a top because he’s often sex repulsed and needs to be in as much control as possible. Also pretty HARDCORE monogamous because of his jealousy and control issues. 

Simon - bisexual, except only romantically attracted to men. He does enjoy dominant/mean women though. He’s a switch and actually leans more into being a top, but enjoys challenging tops so he is dominated. For Knife, he was very dedicated to being a submissive as part of his loyalty to him. 

Fork - closetted bisexual, he’s also a switch but is more of a service top as he is desperate for praise. 

Crimson - crimson is a genderfuck so its hard to put labels on her for anything. Generally considers themselves as a lesbian of all things but actually gets crushes quite often on men. A switch, but leans top for most scenarios. It depends on the personality. If Crimsons close with a person and deeply romantically involved, he’s usually the submissive instead. 

Dylan - bisexual and a sub/brat. Generally prefers women, but it never lasts long because shes actually way worse with women than she is with men because of her attitude. Most men aren’t worth her time, even if shes also not worth most people’s time either.. 

Aeschylus - He sees no gender. Generally a top, somehow. He’s more of a submissive in other aspects of a relationship than in the bedroom. 

Antony - gay. Bottom. However, he is basically married to a woman (Celadon) for magical tax evasion (trying to dominate the world) 

Celadon #1 - lesbian and a top. Crimson's the one exception to this for preferences since Crimson is a lot of things at once..

Celadon #2 - a top-leaning switch, not attracted to any gender in particular so probably IDs more with pansexual. 

Celadon #3/Galore - a bottom. Actually had more of a preference to men, but is more pansexual at this point in her life. Probably would only top as a service kind of way and generally very vanilla.

Evil Mother - as long as she is the top, a hole is a hole!

Good Leadman - bisexual, bottom, into muscles or very cute, androgynous people. enjoys being taken care of so he's kind of vanilla.

Locket - bisexual, but leans towards men because he has a difficult relationship with women and guilt associated with his sister. Generally a top, just because he likes teasing people. He definitely gets crushes on strangers very fast.

Key - bisexual, bratty bottom. She enjoys having a harem of boys at her disposal to order around, however.

Mirror - has no preference, in some ways is somewhat asexual. But she loves to be able to control anyone around her, so she likes to play the game of sex and WIN.

Nail - gay, but he is very lax about it cuz its like whatever.. He is generally into men that are bad for him and he finds repulsive. Strictly a top unless money is involved. (for Mop's case, anyway)

Paper - mostly a lesbian, but in the world of worms there’s a lot of genderfuckery around so that gives some wiggle room on that aspect. Generally a bottom unless the personality is right, then shes a doting top. Still deeply attached to Crimson even after all this time.

Penelope - straight, but actually leans towards being a top! She likes to be the boss of the bedroom, unless the guy is very confident then she might indulge in being a pillow princess, but usually that annoys her because they don't know what they're doing or try too hard to be like the macho guy. Rome was her first, but since their break up she's had other boyfriends or flings.. Currently in a new relationship with an older man.

Cash Leadman - pansexual and a top. If she tries bottoming its like someone giving you a thumbs up and giving you a round of applause when you finish, she doesn’t really get much out of it herself. Despite being pretty casual with sex, she pretty much friend zones everyone in the world. Simon, while also just being her friend, is probably the closest thing to a committed relationship besides her husband.

Randall - gay. A bottom? He doesnt really know yet. He’s still a virgin after all. Plus, Aeschylus just gave him a vagina...!?!?

Rome - straight. He doesnt know what tops and bottoms means even if antony has tried to explain it to him before. He’s a PROUD ally though, gay & trans rights!!!!!!

Steal - says he’s straight but.. He also is desperate for any kind of affection.. so it probably wouldn't take much convincing. he definitely has a kink for robots as well.

Rowan - bisexual and also poly. I probably could list poly for some other characters above, but this was specifically pretty important to him specifically.

Pluto - HATES women because of trauma involving dylan torturing him. Pretty much just loves his king and ducky. That's it. Top because he is STRONG and must prove his strength to everyone.

Jacket - as long as he can torture them, he doesn’t care about the gender of his victims. If they don't have a hole he'll make one.. 100% sadist (what a shocker)

Destroy - lesbian, not sure of her preferences. Work keeps her out of the dating world so she actually is a bit inexperienced, which she's a bit ashamed about..

Dr Atropa - asexual but deeply in love with Priam. It is mostly a devotion of faith rather than romance, but she is in love with him too. Their relationship is kind of ambiguously D/S coded as well. Definately the submissive in this dynamic.

Priam - has gotten bored of sex, but he used to be pansexual. Top still though, no question about it.

Dollop - NO preference and finds almost any person sexy, especially if they are very unique in some way. Very flexible with positions. LOVES horses too much which used to really be a turn off for Fork.

Helix - hasn’t had enough experience to really know his gender or his sexual preferences, he has a crush on fork however. 

King Aldebaran - when he was alive, he was deeply in love with Rowan. That was really the only person important to him, besides himself of course. He was very attracted to himself for sure.

Canary (amnesia) - Doesn’t really know his preferences or gender, and kind of doesn’t care at all about them? He has a crush on Rome and Locket, however.

King Canary (original) - he was pretty self centered, but he wished for his father’s approval and also had a sexual fixation on good leadmen. Used everyone else as a tool. 100% pillow princess, however. Wasn’t interested in doing ANY of the work. 

King Lucid - sex repulsed, actually found this frustrating as his role as a king worm - which usually causes worms around you to be sexually charged from the pheromones. His sex repulsion came from a fear of being eaten, which is also quite a worm-like activity when it comes to sex. If he had lived long enough, maybe he would have found someone he could trust- but that never happened in his lifetime.

Lauma - bisexual and a switch through and through. Actually was genderfluid, just didn’t realize it in her lifetime. Was HARDCORE poly in the way where wanting all her partners to also be poly. Always trying to advance the polycule agenda!!!!

Laima - bisexual and a top, although she enjoyed dievas taking the lead sometimes, which made her very flustered when he did. He was the only person to get that kind of reaction out of her, however.

Dievas - closetted bisexual and generally a bottom. He was always nervous about his performance, but Laima helped give him confidence. He was deeply romantic and tender to the point where it probably was nauseating for most people, but Laima adored it.

Velns - bisexual and a switch. He never got to explore his bisexuality outside of when his wife wanted to experiment “being a boy” which he thought was awesome and fun. He was pretty DTF with whatever idea she had and also liked to spoil and surprise her back. He didn’t think too much about anything beyond that. LOVES boobs.

Mouse - gay. Bottom? Very boring and basic. Although he is open to romance with the right partner even if its outside his usual preferences. He had a girlfriend once, they held hands. 

Chain - lesbian but is also like ANY HOLES A HOLE horny levels. Shes a 500 year old virgin.

Aunt K - lesbian but is pretty resigned to never having any kind of attention in that way. It doesn't bother her as much as it used to.

Mr Boot - he was straight but.. Mirror changed his mind. He is a bottom and not very romantically inclined, mostly from being so old and jaded.

Mr Apple - he only had one relationship, can you guess with who? (it was knife) That did not end well. Since then, he’s more concerned about other things. Mirror has tried to fuck him before though. 

Rembrandt - he’s kinda pan, i guess. He hasn’t had a lot of relationships in his life, but he was very attracted to Ted. 

Rock - straight? He was comfortable with himself until Rem made that complicated. Bottom

Rem - is a robot, but he was deeply gay for Rock. That didn’t work out well, however.

Slate - Slate is old and tired.. He’s like, generally straight in the way that he barely pursues anything so its safer to just assume that. He and Cuddle had some history, however. BOTTOM for sure

Cuddle - a top for sure. besides that, gender is kind of whatever for both categories. Not into serious stuff or too much romance, he has ghosted so many people who wanted more from him.

[insanityclause]

Arifa Akbar

Wed 19 Feb 2025 23.59 GMTShare

It is usually a jukebox musical audience that are encouraged to “dance in the aisles”. In Jamie Lloyd’s 1990s clubland twist on Shakespeare, the ushers are doing it before the curtain has even gone up. It is a sign of things to come, along with the throwback soundtrack and the giddy swirl of disco lights.

Taylor Dayne’s Tell It to My Heart kicks off proceedings and a shower of pink confetti rains down. This is a thoroughly weird and absolutely wonderful re-conceptualisation, turning Shakespeare’s comedy, which narrowly swerves tragedy, into an old school house party cum modern romcom.

More musical than play, the interludes of song and dance are sometimes abrupt – from Beastie Boys to Deee-Lite and Backstreet Boys. The dated sound might be a nod to the play’s older couple, Beatrice and Benedick, played by Hayley Atwell and Tom Hiddleston, who are veteran singletons before being tricked into admitting their love for each other.

Hiddleston and Atwell have a sparring chemistry that is as bright as the modern-day costumes (all pink spangles, gold shimmer and sequins). You can virtually see the sparks coming off them in their “merry war”, which is fuelled by antagonistic duelling but dips suddenly to earnestness and intensity.

Never losing her power … Mara Huf as Hero in Much Ado About Nothing. Photograph: Marc Brenner

Most of the cast here worked on Lloyd’s previous West End show, The Tempest, including Mara Huf and James Phoon, who again play a couple in love as Hero and Claudio, along with a fey Tim Steed as Don John, and several others. That show met with mostly negative reviews. This seems like The Tempest’s revenge in its determined infectiousness – genuinely funny, romantic and trimmed of the laboured subplot involving tiresome Dogberry.

It has the same creative team too in set designer, Soutra Gilmour (bringing similarly dark depths around the stage), lighting by Jon Clark (disco lights galore) and sound by Ben and Max Ringham. Movement director, Fabian Aloise, creates lovably cheesy dance routines and the overall effect combines into hallucinatory revelry.

Mason Alexander Park, who stole the show as a lugubrious Ariel in The Tempest, plays Hero’s attendant, Margaret, but they are key to the soundtrack of the play with their gorgeous intermittent singing.

The masquerade ball features plushy headdresses (from Tweety Pie to a mini-octopus); they are silly and humorous but return through the production to look more disturbingly psychedelic – like an acid trip gone wrong.

Key to the soundtrack … Mason Alexander Park. Photograph: Marc Brenner

The visible mechanics of the stage – from lights to bare back wall and a row of chairs for actors to sit when they are not performing – are customary features in Lloyd’s shows, but there is something magical in it here: they come downstage to perform not at us but to us, making eye contact, pointing at us individually as they speak of love and attraction.

There is a meta moment too, in Beatrice and Benedick’s romance when they meet cardboard cut-outs of each other’s Marvel superheroes (both have starred in the Hollywood franchise). Benedick worships at the cardboard altar of Atwell’s Captain Carter while Beatrice dances suggestively with Hiddleston’s Loki.

The latter is certainly god of mischief here, pulling off difficult physical comedy involving confetti in the eavesdropping scene when he is tricked into his romance, and pulling out some nifty dance moves (Atwell pulls out her own, too). Both wink and flirt with the audience without deviating from Shakespeare’s text “I am loved of all ladies,” says Hiddleston and the auditorium roars in confirmation.

Lloyd himself seems like the god of mischief in constructing this party of pink silliness. You would have to be a god of stone to not be seduced by its wacky winter joy. A wonderfully giddy thing indeed, and that is my conclusion.

[sitp-recs]

15 Christmassy fics to read (or reread) this month

This rec list is for @annakendricks who sent an ask about Christmas reads and also dedicated to @lettersbyelise for supporting this idea 💜 Despite the winter blues, December will always lighten up my mood with the holiday spirit. This month has been pretty hectic for me but I can’t wait to get some time off and indulge my fave Christmassy rereads. Come and join me if you like! Here you’ll find a little bit of everything: soft and contemplative, smutty, crack-y, movie AU, holiday romance and even Gen fic, which is not my usual fare but fit the theme perfectly. Pick your flavour and Happy Holidays!

🎄A Christmas Happenstance by Only_1_Truth (E, 5.5k)

The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls. Both humans and non-humans mingled freely in the surrounding town of Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy, however, isn't feeling in the mood after a rather spectacular break-up.

🎄A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

🎄A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.4k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

🎄Surviving the Horde by FleetofShippyShips (T, 7k)

Draco has managed to avoid Christmas at the Burrow for ten years, but not this year.

🎄Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

🎄Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

🎄break the bad luck in my life by seaworn (E, 12k)

Draco and Harry are both brooding on Christmas Eve.

🎄All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

🎄Love All Lovely by @shealwaysreads (T, 19k)

Draco comes home for Christmas, and discovers that sharing is the best way of celebrating old traditions, and new ones too.

🎄Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🎄I'll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley (T, 39k)

The Ministry Christmas party is the biggest event of the year and Harry absolutely does not want to plan it, and he certainly, one hundred percent, does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

🎄The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 (E, 39k)

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.

🎄December Never Felt So Wrong by @maesterchill (E, 50k)

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

🎄A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

🎄All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (M, 61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

[maxwell-mtv]

New Year, New Deal [Morris x Farmer!GN!Reader]

[Author's note: I think I'll make it my tradition this time of year to make a reader insert fanfic. This year is New Years for all my homies just vibing tonight! May this year be better than the last!]

CW: Alcohol

Fanfic below the cut!

Huffing, you rush through the silent plaza of Pelican Town. Carrying your bag over your shoulder, you made a note of the bustling saloon as you passed it from afar. That's where all of the locals joined in celebration for the end of another year.

You were invited, as the farmer who had steadily returned the local economy back to a healthy place. But your rushing wasn't so you could make it to the festivities at your earliest time. 

It was to meet the last person anyone would assume you'd want anything to do with. A man that anyone in town would assume would be your enemy, all things considered. And while you could understand why they may believe that, you left your affinity for the man a secret.

Getting to the entrance of the JojaMart, you tug on the doors. 

Locked.

Checking your watch, you supposed you should expect that; after all, it was nearly midnight! Just a half hour to go and all would start over again, in a symbolic way, of course. 

Taking out your keychain, you fiddle with the line up before landing on the odd one out. Inserting and jerking your wrist in a hasty turn of the key, you waste no time locking the door behind you with the same reckless attitude.

Can't have anyone seeing you entering the building this late at night!

"Morris!" You holler to the vacant store.

For just a moment, you think maybe he'd gone home without giving you a call first. Then again, if that were the case, you would have crossed paths with him on his way to catch the last bus of the night.

But what you found, entering his office, was something completely beside expectations.

Hunched over his desk with his face smushed peacefully against his folded arms was Morris, passed out. Snoring softly, every rise and fall of his chest would leave his glasses teetering on the bridge of his nose. It was almost cute, in a weird way, he never looked so at peace.

It was a shame to wake him, though you knew he'd be upset if you let him sleep into the new year. Tapping his shoulder does nothing, so instead you opt to leaning over a bit more to grab his shoulder firmly and shake. "Hey, Morris..." you say, unsure of yourself. 

"Hm?" He stirs, but not nearly enough to be considered conscious again. 

Smiling softly at your small success, you speak softly. Gently. "It's almost the new year, I brought some spirits to share."

All he can say, or rather groan, in response is a huffy "herumph".

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and start unpacking your bag. Cheap hats, mini confetti cannons, and noise makers galore. Sparkling grape juice, homemade wine and spirits, and finally, some sweets to munch on in case either of you became peckish. "I guess I'll have to have all these spirits alone and to myself..." You sigh dramatically, awaiting a more lively reaction from the middle aged man.

Nothing. 

Grumbling, you quickly get fed up and bring one of the noise makers to your lips. With all your might, you blow, a horrid sound of the tiny horn sounding off in the crammed office space.

He yelps, jolting up and looking around frantically as he adjusts his spectacles. Landing his sights on you, his surprise turns to aggravation. "Really?"

"Really." You confirm bluntly. "You need to get a better sleep schedule, sir, I tried waking you up every other way!" Crossing your arms, you watch his usual teasing smirk return to his smug face.

"Oh yeah?" He challenges.

"Yes..."

"Even tried using a true love's kiss?"

Suddenly the usually chilly office ran warm and your cheeks flushed bright red. "Who are you, sleeping beauty?"

"From how you've described me in the past, I'd say so!" Morris swivels in his chair. He was always so cocky, even behind closed doors.

Jumping to your own defense, you point an accusing finger towards him. "Hey! I don't recall saying you were a sight for sore eyes!”

"You didn't have to. Your actions speak louder than words!" He stands his ground.

Flabbergasted, you sputter over a response. Who was this guy? To dare to make such outlandish accusations?

"Listen here, you tubby, snobby, little-"

"Easy, easy, you're already so wound up! I'd hate for you to waste all your energy on bickering with me."

Growling, you slam your palms on his desk and cast your shadow over him. "I would never find the most hated man of Pelican Town attractive! That would be a death sentence for my reputation!"

He sighs, clicking his tongue and shaking his head disappointedly. For a moment, you thought you'd won. "That's too bad for Pierre, now isn't it?"

Stunned, you yourself were almost too tired to snap right back at him. 

"Close your mouth, farmer, you won't catch your lunch like that in my store."

"Listen, you-"

"Language." He warns.

"Whatever... Why do I even bother with you?" You scoff, finishing setting up everything on the limited desk space before you.

"Because you fell in love with the one man they'd have you believe couldn't love."

"Yeah, sometimes I wish I'd believed them..." You say without thinking, forgetting who you were with. 

A hum of intrigue, Morris leans in with his chin resting in his palm. "Oh? And do tell, why's that?"

"Because you're so... so..." you struggle to form a cohesive reasoning that wasn't just a generic lie. 

"Because you have to hide your love for me in the dead of the night?"

"Not in the slightest..." You snarl.

"Then what? You hate how I can leave you speechless? How I manage to throw you for a loop? How I keep you on your toes and make it so much harder for you to fulfill the legacy the locals thrust onto you from day one?"

"I wouldn't say they put anything on me."

"Right..." He rolls his eyes. "And I wasn't assigned the role of the irredeemable prick from the day Joja broke ground here..."

Absent-mindedly, you open a bottle of spirits and grab a glass from the liquor cabinet Morris had hidden in the back corner of his office. "Well, you know, people will always assume one thing or another about those they don't know."

"Of course. So, tell me hero, how's that Community Center coming along?"

You remain silent, pouring your drink and another for your partner, who stands to hover over you. Nearly feeling his body heat, he leans in and smiles. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were prolonging the inevitable."

Spinning on your heel, you cut the man's advances off, pushing his glass into his hands. Storming back to your own seat, you take a sip of your homemade delicacy and relish in your craftsmanship. 

Morris follows suit, taking his throne yet again to look down at the drink you made him. "You know, it's been three years since you moved here and yet you've only fixed a couple rooms in that building."

"You've been checking my progress?"

"I'd hate to lose my favorite customer." He replies, bringing the glass to his lips. You watch as he stares longingly at the drink. "You make such wonderful liquor..."

It may have been your own tired mind playing tricks on you, but it almost seemed to be he wasn't talking from a place of personal gain. "Oh, right. Like I ever buy anything from you."

He laughs bitterly, still keeping his eyes low. "No... I suppose you don't."

"And I never will."

"Nope."

A moment of silence creeps between you two as you both tease the idea of speaking first. Still, between some sips and awkwardly avoiding eye contact, it's Morris who once again speaks up.

"I don't think you want me to leave either."

"Weird to say that since you're like a parasitic leech on this town."

Morris chuckles at your half-hearted insult. "You know I'll be leaving if you ever rally the town against me."

"I know, I don't want to..." You confess softly.

"Is that why you don't touch the one thing that would quickly unite everyone against us?"

You pause. 'Us'? The word echoes in your mind before concluding he must have meant "us" as in the company as a whole. "You already know the answer to that..."

"You know, I would take you back to the city with me." The offer feels too good to be true. And it is.

"I can't leave the farm."

"Why not? Have you done much with it? Wouldn't you rather be free from it all? I'm sure I could make it worth your while." Morris attempts to sway you with a charming tone.

Mixing it with his usual unnerving smile, it was a sour concoction only you were susceptible to. 

"I don't think you understand. I can't abandon my grandfather's farm like it's some plot of land." You stand your ground. 

He hums, swirling the drink and taking another sip of it before muttering "I see". Your stomach drops for a moment as you find yourselves at a crossroads. 

Glancing up to the clock, you find it's now a mere five minutes until midnight.

Following your gaze, he speaks up again. "I guess I'll just have to present my counter offer, then."

Finishing your glass, you feel the world begin to dance around you. "Shoot."

Putting down his glass, he interlocks his fingers and leans over the desk and you follow his lead. "I propose a challenge."

"Shoot." You say.

He takes a moment to let the anticipation linger. "If you cannot complete that Community Center within the year like you claim to want to do, you join the Joja family once again." 

This sends you reeling. "What? That's ridiculous! I already worked for Joja once-" 

"Not working, simply... corroborate." He corrects you a sly tone. He thinks he's so smart. 

"Oh, so what? You want me to marry in or something? W-What else could you mean?" Your cheeks flush and your speech hastens. 

Morris's eyes glint at your argument. "Actually, I was going to suggest you sell whatever you have left and join the JojaMart membership program. However, marrying into the business doesn't sound like a bad idea. I'll take it." 

"Wha- No! I can't just- You cannot- WHAT?" Flustered, you struggle to form a coherent statement to protest his own. 

"Cold feet? Let me let you balance this wager. What could you possibly want if you do manage to finish that dilapidated eye-sore?" 

It takes you a moment to consider, but you eventually come to a solid proposal to counter his own. "If- no- when I finish the Community Center and you're inevitably driven from this town with your tail tucked between your legs, you quit your job, admit defeat, and move in with me on my farm!" 

Now it was Morris's time to blush. "My, my, you sound so sure of yourself that you could manage such a task! But I see that as only being fair considering that you joining us would mean giving up that little country bumpkin dream you have for that silly plot of land you call a farm." 

"So then, it's settled!" You rejoice, ignoring his woven insults. "By this time next year, we'll see who moves in with who." 

"Deal. Now, it seems inappropriate considering the risks at stake here to simply seal this with a casual handshake." Morris stands from his desk, circling so he stands over you. Casting out his hand, he offers to pull you to your feet. Taking the chance graciously, you stand and are immediately pulled close. So close, you could smell his cologne and feel the heat he gave off. But it was the firm and reassuring way his arm wrapped around your waist that made you unable to meet his gaze. Noticing this, he takes your chin and gently guides your attention to his enchanting crimson eyes. 

"I think it's best to seal this deal with a kiss." He says warmly, softly, tenderly. 

"Only seems appropriate." You softly concede.

With that, your lips meet and you embrace each other passionately as the clock strikes midnight. So thus began the new year, with a new deal, and a new goal in mind.

[lgbtpopcult]

November WLW entertainment rundown

TV

Love Senior the series, first episode drops on YouTube November 8.

Scott Pilgrim November 17

Black Cake: Season One Premiere – November 1st

Beacon 23: Season One Premiere – November 12

Movies

You’re Not Suppose To Be Here, November 4, Lifetime

You’re Not Supposed to Be Here,” which premieres Nov. 4, stars Stause and Diora Baird as a lesbian couple babymooning in a remote mountain town. Developed from Lauren Caster’s concept, “You’re Not Supposed to Be Here” follows pregnant couple Zoe (Stause) and Kennedy (Baird), who are offered a vacation from their stressful lives when Kennedy’s boss gives them a key to a cabin in the woods. When they arrive, however, they are met with less than welcoming arms, prompting Zoe to sound alarms of homophobia, which Kennedy attempts to tamper down.

Books, Games Music etc

That French Summer

Reeling from a very public scandal, Delia Holland takes refuge in a run-down French chateau. She’s determined to stay out of the lime-light, to rebuild her life, and most of all, to be happy. Guillotining her husband would be the icing on the cake, if only she could find him.

After an accident and a surprise breakup, Paris Bennett finds herself alone on her longed-for French vacation. Her characteristically immaculate plans have fallen apart, and she’s barely holding herself together. Plus, the novelty of being Paris in Paris is rapidly starting to wear off.

But when a thunderstorm brings the two together for a night, something begins to sparkle. Delia’s heart starts to fill with happiness again, and Paris suddenly finds that her carefully laid out plans aren’t as necessary as she thought.

Grumpy neighbors, interfering English teachers, a housekeeper who’s more than she seems, a battered car, an even more battered moped, rats and spiders galore, and a chateau that could fall on their heads at any moment come together to prove that the perfect love story doesn’t have to be perfect at all. Sometimes happiness is there for the taking, as long as you can persuade yourself to choose it.

This Bed We Made

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1243850/This_Bed_We_Made/

"February 17, 1958. Sophie's shift at the Clarington Hotel begins like any other — until she opens the door to room 505 and a crimson light comes out…" Does that appeal to your curiosity? If so, this noir investigation full of guilty pleasures and a nosy maid is perfect for you. And of course, you’ll be able to form all sorts of bonds with the hotel guests you usually work for.

Available for: PC

~The Summer Romance Bloomed From A Lie~

This is a story about finding love to overwrite the feelings for the one they held dearest. A girls love visual novel about summer, love and adolescence.

3 Nov, 2023 https://store.steampowered.com/app/1575980/UsoNatsu_The_Summer_Romance_Bloomed_From_A_Lie/

[thedanniannie]

Fully Enamored - Itachi Uchiha POV fic

You're getting ready for a date night with Itachi. You saved your nicest outfit for tonight, and let's just say Itachi is OBSESSED...

✨️fluff/praise GALORE✨️

Gender neutral reader

(This is written as a POV from Itachi, so while I imagined him, feel free to replace your mental image with any introverted fictional character who has big feelings but can't communicate them to save their life)

Also itachi putting his hand over his mouth is purely an idea from my friend, Ezra. She told me she saw him doing that so you wouldn't see him smile or biting his lip, and it was do hot I had to include it.

.

.

.

"I'm almost done!" they project from the hidden space of their bathroom.

"Don't feel rushed my love. I can wait."

I take my place on the freshly fluffed couch. Examining the usually cluttered coffee table, I can tell they must have lost track of time from cleaning their apartment. It must have been entertaining, to be present to watch them fumble with the unfolded laudry, to watch their eyebrows scrunch together when they organize their belongings, and to look over at them as they curse to themselves for letting their space become so hectic yet again. They did well, the home is spotless. It doesn't bother me to wait for them in the living room, their choice of decor was like a museum. The walls a collage of photos and paintings from family and friends. The coat rack was tipping with more jackets than a single person could need. The shelves filled with trinkets, and I could recognize some of the items from second hand shops and art fairs we had visited together.

Perfect, it was so perfectly them. I could gaze at these walls for days. They were generous with their personality, to me, to their friends, and to their home. But no matter how generous they were, no amount of them could satiate my need for them. Maybe there was a slight lie in what I said earlier, I can't wait. I need to see them now.

Their feet begin to move and I hear the light switch click. I wrap two fingers to cover the corners of my already upturning lips before cocking my head to meet their eyes.

The three seconds that I got to look at them felt like an eternity. An eternity that I was happy to be prisoner in. Their beauty caged my heart, my soul, and never did I wish more than in this moment for a key that could unlock this cage to never exist. Their walls were a gallery, and they were the Louvre. They deserved to be seen by the world, for everyone to know how it feels to be drunk on their ethereal grace, and to be lost in thought by meeting them. But at the same time the world doesn't deserve them. I don't even deserve them. A being so beautiful, even a divine creator from above is in shock and awe. A drug that no parental figure ever warned me about. I look at their eyes, their fly away hairs, their lips, fingertips, the dips in their skin, they way they're fumbling with their belongings right now and the energy I feel shoots up my veins, and it makes me feel dizzy and idiotic. They're excruciating, and it scares me enough to want to run away. It's torturous to sit here and not let myself slip into an uncontrollable and maddening love sickness, that is if I wasn't already. I fear I am all consumed.

"Do I look fine?" They ask me with that insecure and inquisitive tone. Such an aching tone to hear.

But I'm no better. Every time I finally form the words to remind them of their beauty, eventually I find the words are not enough. They're beyond words, but my stomach turns sour when I bring myself out of their trance and the only pathetic sentence that can come out of my mouth is...

"Yes... you look wonderful darling..."

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Can you do the mob boys reacting to their teenage daughter sneaking out the house/ rebelling?

Mob! Leo

He knows a little about rebelling so he's not totally surprised when he catches his teen daughter sneaking out

but he appreciates guts more than anything

and it was a pretty ballsy move for his kid to defy him like this

she thinks she's being so slick as well, waiting for him to go to bed and creeping out

"And what plans do you have at this time of night? He better be worth the grounding you're about to get"

aannddd she knows she's done for

but she's gotta try, y'know?

with the most innocent look and a sweet as pie voice she turns to him like:

"Daddy, I'm just going out to see a movie with Claire. You remember her, right? No boys or alcohol, just a movie"

he's not fooled

"Oh really, open your bag then?"

time to drop the act

"fine. How long am I grounded for? "

he tells her it's forever but she knows it'll be like a week as per usual

stomps back up the stairs muttering about how she can't wait to move out at 18

Mob! Raph

ok but he's such a big softy

like his daughter could get away with murder, both figuratively and literally.

but he doesn't like her doing anything that could her hurt, like walking around the streets of New York late at night....

he catches her shimmying down a drainpipe out her bedroom window

she's super slow at it so he just goes downstairs and waits for her

"I told you no"

she half jumps out of her skin

she really didn't think he'd know she was doing this

"But dad!"

"I said no, it's 11:30 at night, I don't want you out at this time"

"I'm just going to a friend's house, please? Her dad's picking me up and everything, he'll drop me back too!"

puppy dog eyes galore

he thinks about it for a minute

"I'll drop you off. And pick you up. And if you aren't there, I'm sending your body guards out for you and they will embarrass you in front of your friends. I'll make sure of that"

"Thank you, daddy!"

big hugs

he makes the guards embarrass her anyways as punishment

Mob! Mikey

Oh god he's such a wild card as a parent

but also such a massive push over as a parent

like his kids really aren't used to being told "no"

but when he says "no" he fucking means it

so when he catches his daughter with a bottle of raspberry vodka in one hand and his car keys in the other... shit is about to hit the fan

she hears it before she even realises what's happened

the bottle of vodka smashing on the floor

then there's what he says

because Mikey doesn't yell, he actually gets real quiet when he's angry

"Is this what I fucking get? for raising you, caring for you, protecting you? this blatant disregard for my rules and wishes? Who are you sneaking out to see? Because I fucking swear that if it's the boy you've been making eyes at all semester, he won't make it to school on Monday or ever again. Do you understand?"

he sort of realises he fucked up once she starts balling her eyes out and shaking

after that he clams down and they go back inside for some daddy/daughter rebuilding trust.

she's fine the next day but never sneaks out again

Mob! Donnie

one dad you do not want to fuck with

he plays the long game

he see's her sneak out, and follows

obvs he's super discreet and she thinks she's gotten away with it

until her and her friends are drinking and partying and dancing, until they feel comfortable...

then he strikes

armed guards knock down the door, guns pointed in everyone's faces

there's a bit of a scuffle (drunk "hero" teenage boy trying to show he's a big shot) but he gets knocked out pretty quickly

then Donnie appears

he grabs her by the hair, pulling her face close to his and hissing that it's time for them to leave

in the car on the way back, he's eerily calm

she's trying to do damage control, lot's of "i'm sorry" and "it'll never happen again"

"Oh, I know it won't"

she's confused

"I don't want bad influences on my daughter. so you're going to a private school and I've been assured, it's very strict. Your friends are all going to fail their classes and get kicked out of school and they will be made to know it's your fault and I expect a 5000 word essay on why this was such a bad idea in my hand by Wednesday"

she just sobs

after the essay is handed to him, he "forgives her" and doesn't continue with his plan.

but she never does shit like that again.

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails Fanfic} - Ch. 3

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Displays of misogyny, gendered slurs Category: Action adventure with romance Characters: Billy Bones, Hal Gates, De Groot, Jean DuBois, OC, NPCs (I don't know how else to name any extra OCs I come up with for plot purposes lmao) Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 3/13 Summary: Constance begins her sailing lessons and endures the usual newcomer hazing. It starts out pretty well - until she meets the master rigger, known for being a major asshole. Not all is bad, however, as her friendship with Jean grows. Author's note: I had to conduct so much research for this chapter and the next. Anyway, I could probably start doing sailing as a hobby, now! There won't be much romance until chapter 6 probably bc I'll be establishing a few key relationships for later. I did mention this was slow burn, didn't I? Dedicated to @galfrmraq for the nice comments and tags <3

Chapter iii.

My dreams were a blur of contextless images of figures rushing past me, of the flashing of swords and pistols blazing, of rotten toothed grins laughing at me which then transformed into jagged jaws similar to those I'd seen displayed in naval museums. Several times I woke up in the high hours of the night, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, knife always at the ready. To my relief, not once did I find someone hovering over me. All was quiet, apart from a few snores and the ship's natural noises.

One time, I was startled into consciousness by the sound of footsteps all around me, but it was only the exchange of watches. In the gloom, I was able to make out Billy's giant silhouette, perpetually hunched over as he traded a couple of whispered words with another sailor. I rubbed the stinging crust from my eyes, turned away and forced myself back to sleep for the hundredth time. Vaguely, I heard someone occupying the hammock right next to mine, who I assumed was Jean duBois.

Again I blacked out, but the dreams did not relent. The final time I jumped out of them was because someone was poking at my shoulder. Panic immediately seized me, shocking me into a sitting position with a sharp gasp, knife surging up in the dark, but it was just Jean, who nearly fell off his hammock with a curse. "Putain de merde! Easy, it's just me." I quickly let my hand drop, fighting to slow down my ragged breath. "Oh, sorry... I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

He chuckled. "No, you didn't. Almost took my eye out, but not quite. The sun is coming up. Mr. Gates told me to rouse you and send you up, remember?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, more tired than when I had first gone to sleep. "God, already?" Jean smiled apologetically. "I take it you didn't rest much?" "Practically nothing. I kept having these nightmares..." I shut my mouth before I could say anything further. Who knew who else might be listening. Don't let your guard down. I couldn't afford to look weak, even for a second. They would be expecting it, and I had to avoid confirming those expectations at all costs. I threw my legs out of my hammock. "Thank you for waking me."

"Don't mention it." Jean stayed up while I put my shoes on and wrapped my blanket around me, to fight off the early morning cold. A better knife and a coat, those were the first two things I was getting when we made it to shore. I stood up to my feet, more or less ready to face the day. Before tucking himself back into his bedding, Jean offered me an encouraging grin and said: "Good luck out there." I returned his smile, though mine was significantly less bright, and dragged my feet to the mess hall.

Only two crew members were there, taking their breakfast before heading out or turning in. One was about my age, with light brown curls and the air of a puppy dog trying to appear like a Doberman. The other was older, dressed in dark clothes, gray hair falling in thick wisps around his face and a grizzly beard to match. I tried to be quiet in my approach, hoping my presence would be overlooked, but upon my arrival their conversation ceased so they could both stare at me. The younger man narrowed his round eyes in irritation, making me guess he was in Randall's team of disapproval over my presence. The older gentleman, on the other hand, observed me with nothing more than curiosity. He had strikingly blue eyes that revealed a great deal of intelligence. With a little luck, in time, I could turn him into a friend rather than a rival.

Even so, I staggered and hesitated under their scrutiny. An uncomfortable lump grew in my throat, which I tried to force down with a short cough before muttering: “Good morning.”

Only the sharp-eyed man replied to my greeting, and even offered a half smile. “Morning, Miss.” He had an accent from the Highlands and pointed to the galley stove. “There's bread and milk, if you want. Help yourself. Don't worry about the cat, she doesn't scratch.”

Encouraged by his amicable manners, I nodded a “thank you” and moved on. On the counter, just as the man said, a white cat with gray patches guarded a plate of fresh bread. Tentatively, I approached, ignoring the thick silence that had fallen in the mess hall. As I poured milk into a mug and broke off a piece of bread, I couldn't help to hear the sound of a hand smacking on clothes and whom I assumed was the younger sailor hiss: “The fuck's your problem? What're you being nice to her for?”

“Shut it, Turk,” replied the older man. “Leave the lass alone and mind your own business.”

The other, Turk, grumbled a curse and returned to his breakfast. Slowly, conversation resumed, and the tension alleviated, somewhat. The half-asleep cat purred when she saw me and didn't move when I tried to smooth a hand down her silky fur. In fact, she purred louder. I smiled a little more and found myself a seat, away from the other two men to give them and myself some privacy.

After ingesting half a piece of bread and washing it down with milk, I tucked the blanket a little tighter around my shoulders, found a water basin to at least wash my face and moved out onto the main deck.

A gust of chilly wind greeted me at once by blowing my hair about. It was still quite dark, the sky a threatening shade of steel while a light drizzle fell. At this hour, the smell of the sea was strongest, so I took as much of it into my lungs and let it calm me down before making my way to the helm. Mr. De Groot was already waiting for me, looking like a true seaman in a worn raincoat. He spared me a glance from beneath his furrowed brow, eyes shinning as black pearls in the lantern light. He adjusted the helm a touch to starboard.

"Good morning, Mr. De Groot," I greeted him.

"Good morning, Miss. Rested well?"

"As well as I could." I went to stand by his side. "And yourself?"

De Groot grimaced when the wispy drizzle evolved to true rain, drenching us both. "I've been up since first watch. When we are done here, I will retire. So, then. What do you know about sailing?"

I ducked my head and covered it with the blanket, fingers gripping the wool tight in preparation for whatever reaction my answer would warrant. "Not much. I know more about ships than sailing them."

"Tell me. So I can have an idea on what to teach you."

I swallowed hard and ignored the way my stomach lurched. "That's the larboard or port side--" I pointed a finger to the left. "And that's the starboard side. The front of the ship is called the fore, or bow, and the back is the aft or stern. Behind us is the high castle and ahead is the forecastle."

Mr. De Groot nodded along, confirming I was correct. "And the masts?"

The more I spoke, the more the nerves began to melt away and a kind of child-like giddiness replaced it. It reminded me of simpler times when my Grandfather was alive and would smile proudly as I, a child of seven, recited everything he had ever taught me about ships. I pointed from stern to bow. "That's the mizzen mast, followed by the main mast and finally the foremast."

"Sails?"

Here, my knowledge wavered, as I always had them confused. I bit my lip and answered, rather jittery: "Main sails, top sails and top-gallants." I pronounced the words in full because I had only ever read them, never heard them.

"T'gallants," Mr. De Groot corrected. "Among sailors, it's pronounced t'gallants."

My face sizzled hot against the cold rain that dripped down them. "Oh. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. It means you read a lot, that's all. Additionally, you have the jibs at the bow, tied to the bowsprit, the stay sails between masts and the driver sail at the stern." A pause. "How did a young woman get to learn so much about ships? It's not the standard for female education."

"I used to sneak into my Father's study to read his naval books when no one was looking. When he caught me, he started locking up the door whenever he didn't use the study, so I would go to the public library and read everything I could get my hands on.” I smirked to myself. “Sometimes, I brought them home and hid them inside the more conventional books and newspapers deemed appropriate for a lady."

That put a half smile on his sour face, though it was no less joyous for it. "You've always been interested in watercraft, then?"

"Always. Our home had an accurate model replica of the Golden Hind on display in our parlor. One of my earliest memories are of my Grandfather telling stories about great naval battles and famous privateers to my cousins and I in that parlor. I used to stare at it while listening, imagining it full size on the water."

Mr. De Groot hummed and said: "You remind me of my daughter," in this strange faraway tone. Then he seemed to catch himself and changed the subject. "What about navigation? What do you know about it?"

I saved that comment for another time and concentrated. "Well, I know sailors use the sun and the stars to know which way to go. Apart from that... nothing."

"Alright." He steered the helm to the larboard side. "First of all, you're right that the position of the sun can guide us in the direction we wish to go. But what happens when there's no sun, like this morning?"

The rain was beginning to soak into my clothes, making it difficult to think. "You use a compass?"

"Among other tools. Maps, astrolabes, lead lines, octants and sextants all aid us in determining our current position and direction. Most sailors never learn the practice because they don't need it, they just have to know how to steer the ship in whatever direction they're told to go. That responsibility commonly falls to the captain, high ranking officers and the helmsman. If you want, I will teach you."

"I do, yes!" I smiled despite the rain and the cold. This was everything I had ever wished for: to learn the trade of a sailor from someone willing to mentor me, regardless of whether I was woman or man. Everyone I had ever begged to teach me had either ridiculed or dismissed me, including my Father. It was not for a young lady to know such things, he would say. I hated my Father so much.

Mr. De Groot arched an eyebrow at me, amused by my enthuiasm. I supposed I was being a bit childish and naive about it, but... how else was one meant to react when all their dreams were coming true?

I spent the rest of the morning with the old coxswain as he taught me about how the wheel, rudder and capstans worked, how to pay attention to the winds and the currents to guide the ship safely through the waves in the correct direction. The rain let up after half an hour and the clouds began to disperse on a saphire sky. The smell of wet wood was mixed with the sea breeze as it slowly dried, so I set my dripping blanket on the highcastle railing to dry, too.

Despite the wrinkles and the constant downward arch of his mouth, Mr. De Groot was a polite, patient man. An hour into our lesson I felt completely at ease with him, asking questions that he would answer succinctly enough for me to understand and follow through in a linear logic. Not once did he show irritation or reluctance to teach me. In fact, it was my thought that he was enjoying himself as much as I was. I recalled that comment from earlier about being reminded of his daughter, which hadn't been meant for me but I'd heard all the same. What had happened to her, I wondered? Where was she, now? He must miss her a lot, surely. I wanted to ask, but... it wasn't my place. Not yet, at least.

At one bell, around eight thirty in the morning, he was relieved by a younger sailor with long black hair and a dark scruff over his face named Tanner.

"I'm getting too old for this," De Groot complained while he massaged his back. "Tomorrow, we continue. Later tonight I will bring you a compass and map from the captain's cabin and teach you to use them over dinner. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," I nodded. "Thank you, Mr. De Groot."

He waved off my gratitude and started down the stairs to retire. "Don't forget to bring your blanket back down when it's dry, or you will freeze to death over night. Oh, and Gates asked me to tell you to go see Billy when we were finished. He'll introduce you to Mr. Folsom and the other riggers."

"I will. Enjoy your rest, sir."

After he disappeared below decks, I went to find Billy. On the way, I took a moment to observe the ship in all her details, thinking how much I had yet to learn. If all went as well as it had with De Groot, I was sure I would learn in no time. I just needed to be patient and pay attention. No problem.

Billy was at the bow, on the starboard side, pulling on a line before tying it around a pin on the fife rail faster than my eyes could accompany. He looked up as I approached.

"Morning!" He grinned, eyes squinted against the sun. "How did it go with De Groot?"

"It wasn't terrible." I set my hands on my hips to study the complex pattern of ropes going up and down the masts. It was a daunting task, making sense of them. "He's going to teach me how to steer the ship and navigate the ocean, chart courses and such."

"Bold of you." While we spoke, he tugged on the lines one by one to make sure they were secure. "I've learned enough to at least understand what he and the captain are talking about when they're hunched over the maps, but honestly? When he starts getting really into it, I stop listening after a while. Don't get me wrong, I could steer us into port if ever we got lost, but only for short distances. I can't make long voyage calculations like he can."

"We all have our limitations, I guess. I intend to stretch mine to the breaking point and learn as much as I can."

"That's the spirit." Satisfied with the lines, he wiped his hands, black with tar, on his trousers. Next, he moved us into the shade of a sail so we didn't have to scrunch our faces quite so much. "Now, let me introduce you to the next module of your education."

He rolled back his tongue and whistled so loud I had to shove my fingers into my ears. "Folsom!" He roared to the yards. "Get down here, if you please!"

A figure, blurred against the morning sun, shuffled along the main sail yard foot rope and began the descent down the shrouds, fast as a cat. The man who jumped from them to join us on the deck was in his forties, with a gaunt face from which two bright greenish gray eyes evaluated us. He was only a few inches taller than me and lightly built, though his arms were lined with wiry muscle underneath his tanned skin.

"Constance, this is Mr. Folsom, our master rigger. He can tie just about any knot ever conceived and probably a few no one has ever thought of. Folsom, this is Constance. You're in charge of teaching her about the rigging, lines, tie-off points, et cetra."

Folsom's mouth hardened into a line as he looked me up and down. He let out an exasperated exhale and shot Billy a pointed look that I could only interpret as do I really have to?

So this wasn't going to be as fun as it was with the coxswain. Marvelous.

For his part, Billy wasn't moved by the other's petty stare. "We all have to do our part teaching the new recruits, you know that. You're the best rigger. Ergo, you're responsible for her." There was something about the way he emphasized that last word that made me feel confident that it wasn't teaching me the ropes that Folsom had a problem with; it was the fact I was a woman. I tried not to show how I felt, like there was a boulder in my stomach weighting me down. At least we were united in our disappointment: he would have to suffer my presence, and I would have to deal with his objections.

"Fine, then," the rigger grumbled. He kicked his head to one side as a signal to follow him and started walking.

I shot a discouraged look toward Billy, pout included. In his defense, he at least seemed sympathetic, judging by his sheepish expression. But, as Flint had warned me, there was nothing any of them could do to help me. Defending myself from aggressive or unwilling crew mates was part of the task of proving my worth, and God help me, I would do just that. Squaring my shoulders, head held high, I followed Folsom to the forecastle.

There, he produced two pieces of spare rope from a small crate and turned around to face me. "There are dozens of knots any self-respectful sailor knows how to tie, but when you're in a pinch and needing a quick way to attach something, there's only five you absolutely must know. Those are the stopper, the clove hitch, the butterfly, the zeppelin and the bowline. These are the knots you will learn. They're easy to tie, they will hold through anything when done properly, and they're easy to undo."

In quick succession, he tied all five knots right in front of me, and yet he did it at such speed and so smoothly, I had no hope of replicating them. I felt my eyebrows climb up my forehead before disciplining myself and returning my expression to neutral. If he had seen how impressed I was, however, he didn't show. Just as fast, Folsom undid the knots one by one and stretched out the line for me to see.

"Having easily breakable knots means a full line at all times without needing to replace it every time you use it. It's economic and effective. Let's start with the easiest one: the stopper. This knot is used to keep the line from slipping through a block or a joint or whatever. You can also use it as a climbing aid when you're using a rope to ascend."

He overlapped the ends, twisted the hoop and passed the bottom end through it, then gave it a tug. He offered me the second line. "You try it."

My hands were much slower, less sure than his, but I managed to tie the knot exactly the way he did. Indeed, it was quite easy. I smiled in triumph, with just a pinch of smugness.

Folsom scrunched up his nose in response. "You'd have to be pretty daft not to get that one right." He broke his knot, I mimicked him. Next, he went to stand by the fore mast.

"The clove hitch." He continued to explain while showing me the process. "You use it to tie off the ship to something in the absence of a cleat or a pin, usually a pole or a tree."

The rope was looped around the mast twice, then passed through the loops. "It may not look secure, but it is." To prove it, Folsom pulled on the line by bearing his whole weight into it; for a moment, I believed the end was going to come off, but then the knot tightened around the mast and held firm. "Still, if you want to make sure it stays, just give it an extra knot."

He untied it and stepped back to let me take my turn. I didn't get it right the first time and watched in horror as the rope slipped right out of the mast, falling at my feet. Very faintly, I heard Folsom snicker. He didn't offer to show me again. No matter. I would figure it out, even if it was the last thing I did. After another failed attempt, I paused to think, painfully aware that the rigger was scrutinizing my every move. How had he done it... I remembered he looped it once, then held up the rope... and passed the second loop under the first. That was it. Then the end goes through...

I sighed with relief when the knot held. Two down, three to go.

Folsom's sharp gray-green eyes slit with distaste. Neglecting to comment, he forged ahead to the next knot.

"The butterfly is a knot you make in the middle of a line." He wrapped the rope around his hand three times, tucked a finger beneath the loop at the base of his thumb and pulled all three over his knuckles. Again, he held out the line so I could see the perfect loop, similar to a noose, hanging from the middle pf the rope extent. "And it's adjustable." He held the knot in one hand and pulled on the shorter end with he other to make the loop close, tugging on it to open it again. "Go on, then."

I repeated the steps, wrapping the rope around my hand, putting my finger under the last line, and... hesitated. Had he pulled on the three loops just like that? Or had he hooked his fingers on them at the palm? I couldn't be sure. He had done it too fast, and I was certain it was on purpose. With deliberate slowness, making a show of it really, Folsom crossed his arms and tapped a finger, waiting. I could have asked him to repeat, or tell me how he'd done, but that would be an admission of defeat I was too proud to concede. Taking a risk, I pulled the three rings over my hand.

The knot held. I offered it to my mentor for inspection and waited, stomach tingling with nerves. He turned it over once, tugged on the shorter end, but the loop remained the same. Folsom smirked with malice.

"It's not adjustable," he pointed out. Worse: when he pulled on the longer end, the whole thing came apart. "And it's not secure."

Heat flushed my cheeks as I took the rope back. I had to bite on my lip to keep in the frustration. I tried again, fumbled it before even passing the rings over my knuckles. A third go, and I stumped again. The whole time, Folsom's glee grew. For the first time in my life, I felt a burning desire to reach for my knife and stick it into the riggers gut on purpose, unprovoked.

After the fifth attempt, Folsom took it upon himself to repeat the knot. That was when I finally understood my error: I was supposed to hold onto the rings as I pulled them over the knuckles, so they wouldn't escape from the knot.

"That's enough for now," he sneered. "We don't want that pretty head of yours to fry by thinking too hard. Repeat those three. Tomorrow, we'll go over the other two, then I'll teach you the cleat hitch and take you up to the yards. And let us pray to heaven you've learned quick, or else..." He shrugged dramatically. "A weak knot leads to bad accidents, s'all I'm saying."

Cackling, he hopped onto the shrouds again and climbed them with the same ease of a spider on her web, leaving me behind to practice my knots and worrying if he was serious. Certainly he wouldn't put me on the spot like that, right? Certainly, he wouldn't endanger his own mates by letting me tie a knot wrong out of spite... right?

I looked down at the rope in my hands and dropped on the floorboards cross-legged, letting that weight in my gut finally get to me. I had better learn to tie those knots flawlessly, and fast.

***

Up until lunch, I sat at the forecastle and repeated the same knots over and over again. For all my efforts, most of the time when I attempted the butterfly I got it wrong, which only increased my anger -- at Folsom for being a lousy prick of a teacher and at myself for not learning better. How many times did I have to repeat that stupid knot until I got it right??

When three bells struck and the crew was called for lunch servings, I gave up at last and followed the others below decks, tucking the rope in my pocket to practice later.

The file to eat was already enormous by the time I got there. I was ignored for the most part as I stepped up to wait my turn.

Then, out nowhere, I was shoved aside.

"Out of my way, novice!"

Because I wasn't expecting it, I ended up tripping on my oversized shoes and fell just as the ship careened upwards, so not only I splatted on the floor like a pancake, I also rolled down the deck until my head was spinning. The sole reason I stopped was because my back hit the hatch, sending sharp pain up my spine and causing me to yelp.

The galley exploded with laughter. Everyone had seen my ridiculous figure. Everyone. When my vision recovered to the point there wasn't a twin for every man, I saw one of them flailing his arms around with a mock expression of panic, no doubt mimicking me moments before my fall.

Shamed, angry and in pain, I struggled back up and searched the line for who had pushed me, but all I could see were grinning faces, drunk on laughter. It could have been any one of them. And even if I had seen who it was, then what? What could I do to remedy the situation? Each one of those sailors was twice my size, some of them a third or a fourth my weight. No way was I going to wrestle any of them for my spot. Resigned to absorb the humiliation, I went to rejoin the tail end of the line, head hung down and back throbbing.

It was a lonely lunch. Jean duBois was still sleeping off his watch. I couldn't sit with Gates, Flint and De Groot, as they were my superiors. Billy was sitting with his own clique. Even the other new recruits refused to join with me, like I had the plague or something. And the rest were still laughing at my accident.

Don't let down your guard. Right. This was what happened if I did. Lesson learned.

After my meal, I was sent down into storage to help organize the provisions and move things up as needed. Obviously, they tasked me with the heaviest things they could find, under the excuse that I had to "gain some muscle" to be a proper sailor. Not fifteen minutes after starting, I was once again drenched in sweat and my back, still mistreated from the fall, screamed for relief. I was tired, dirty and utterly miserable. And the rats hadn't gotten any less spooky looking after meeting them in daylight.

I thought about my bed back home and the warm hearth in the parlor, my bathtub filled with hot water and soap, and wanted to weep. To counter it, I forced myself to remember my reasons to leave it all behind. I remembered why my Father had sent me into the New World and the longing for home deflated a notch. I might be tired, dirty and miserable, surrounded by fat rats (the animal kind AND the human kind), but at least I would be wife to no one.

At long last, night fell and I all but dragged myself to the mess hall for dinner. This time when I got in line, I positioned my body in a way that allowed me to watch my back. I wouldn't get caught unawares again. If someone tried to dislodge me, they were getting an open palm slap to the face.

A pirate I hadn't met before, a bald man of about thirty with a goatee and tattoos on his neck, approached me. Out of instinct, I tensed up and prepared myself. He studied my closed fists and pondered on something, but when he met my stare, whatever he saw seemed enough to convince him to keep to his own. He turned to his mate, the man with the thick beard I'd seen Billy talk to the night before, and whispered something to him I couldn't make out. They snorted and looked at me so I would know I was the butt of whatever joke the bald man had shared with his friend, but they did nothing beyond that.

I was sitting by my lonesome once more when, as promised, Mr. De Groot came to see me with a roll of parchment and a compass in hand. He didn't ask me about the incident at lunch, either because he didn't know about it, which I doubted, or because he was doing me a favor by simply avoiding the whole issue. I was grateful for it, either way. With how despondent I felt, I feared I would burst into tears if he had asked about it. Instead, I focused on learning how to interpret a map and use a compass, which was much more useful.

An hour or so before lights out, I went looking for Jean. I hadn't seen him all day, as he had spent most of it sleeping and only got up to go back to work some time after lunch, when I was below in storage. I found him on the highcastle, taking a break to smoke from a pipe whilst staring out at the sea. The night was clear and beautiful, with millions of stars littering the vast black mantle of the sky. They were reflected on the calm waters, making it look as if we were sailing right through them.

"Bonsoir, Jean." I greeted in French. "Ça va?"

The young man turned and smiled with genuine warmth. "Ça va, mademoiselle. Et vous? Ça va bien?"

I wavered my hand in a "more or less" gesture. "Comme ci, comme ça. Je ne peux pas me plaindre. And please, call me Constance. We're equals here."

Jean laughed as he leaned back on the railing, pipe hanging from between his teeth. It smelled rich and sweet, quite abrasive but not unpleasant. "As you wish, Constance. Are you fluent in French?"

"I can carry a conversation, yes. So if you have any secrets you don't want anyone else to know about or ever need an accomplice, you can count on me."

"I'll keep that in mind." He puffed on the pipe and blew out the smoke, mindful to do so away from me. "How was your first day?"

I rested my elbows on the rails and sighed. The pain on my back had dulled, but remained a persistent throb. I could ignore it if I really tried, but it was there all the same. “It was... fine.”

“Oui. I know what you mean.”

A snort. “Was it this much fun for you, too?”

“Are you kidding? When I got on, I was punched in the nose within the first hour. Just because. Trust me, what happened at lunch today? You had it easy.”

Ah, so he had heard about it. News traveled fast on a ship. I stared out to sea, unable to respond at first. I wasn't accustomed to such rampant, illogical violence. But then again... I supposed I shouldn't be surprised. In fact, maybe I would do well to expect worse in the future. And I would either have to take it, or end it. Since for the time being I had no power to make it end, I had no choice but to take it and pray I wouldn't get too hurt.

That was a thought for later, however. I had made it through the first day and chose to take it as a sign that all would be well, soon.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Jean offering me his pipe with a kind smile. My eyes bulged. “Oh, I don't... I mean, I shouldn't. I was never permitted to smoke.”

He peered at me from beneath pale lashes with a deadpan expression. “Constance. You're on a pirate ship. You can do whatever you want, now. Enjoy it.” He pushed the pipe into my hands.

The wood was lacquered and smooth, with a brass rim from which puffs of smoke billowed. Curiosity gnawed at me. I never understood the appeal of smoking, given the pungent smell it produced, but... there must be a reason and I wanted to know what it was. I brought the pipe to my lips.

“Go easy,” he advised me. “It's quite strong. Gently pull it in for a second or two, then stop.”

I did as he instructed and slowly filled my lungs. He hadn't been jesting; it was strong. The taste all but possessed my mouth and throat, burning my chest to the point of tears. I held it in and tried not to cough, much as I wanted. To my surprise, not long afterwards my lungs stopped fighting what they were perceiving as poisonous fumes and settled, absorbing it into my body and replacing the acrid taste on my tongue for something sweeter. I blinked away the sting of the tears, straightened up and slowly breathed out through my mouth.

“No, no.” Jean laughed. “Through your nose. It's even better that way.”

The second time around didn't burn as much, and when I blew out through my nose – oh, it did feel better! The taste was more intense and I could smell it, too. I smiled at my new friend. “That wasn't too bad.”

“It's not, isn't it?” He accepted the pipe back, sucked in and puffed out a perfect ring. “Can you feel your muscles relaxing? Your mind slowing? There's nothing better after a hard day's work, except maybe a glass of good whiskey. When we get to Nassau, I'll take you to the tavern so you can try.”

“Sounds great.” Again, I leaned with my arms crossed on the railing and closed my eyes to better feel the night's breeze on my face.

“I will make you an addict on tobacco and booze!” He laughed. “Then, you'll be a proper pirate.”

I smirked to that idea. “You are certainly welcome to try.” The only thing that could make this end-of-the-day even better now would be a proper bath. I brought up a hand to scratch at my unwashed hair, hating the oily feel it was developing.

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“Is there... This is probably as stupid question, but... Is there a way one can wash on this ship?”

He slowly turned toward me, astonished. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us before he finally brought himself to answer. “Um... Well, you're not going to find a bathtub here, that's for sure.”

“No, right, neither would I expect to,” I stuttered. “I would settle for a basin of water and a wash cloth. That's all. It's just that I don't have the guts to ask Gates or Billy. I thought perhaps you... Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

The waves lapped against the hull below. I latched onto the sound, doing my best to ignore how embarrassed I felt. Of course there was no way to wash aboard a pirate ship. Pirates don't need to wash and neither did they want to. Washing was for girls. Which unfortunately, I was.

But then, Jean put out the pipe and stored it in his pocket. “Come with me.”

Intrigued, just a little hopeful, I followed him down from the highcastle and into the gun deck.

The crew were already setting up their hammocks and, like the night before, occupied what little time was left before lights out with games, drinking and conversation. Jean slithered his way around them in the direction of the pen, where we slept, and stopped. He looked around to make sure we were a safe distance away from the others. “Cover me.”

Quickly, I positioned myself in front of him to mask what he was doing, trying to act natural. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him pull up a piece of loose plank to take out a small object wrapped in light green cloth. He reset the plank, got up and slipped the contraband into my hand.

“Now, you know there's a porcelain basin in the privy, don't you?” He whispered.

I nodded an affirmation as I hid the object in my pocket.

“Go there now and close the door. I'll stand guard for you. Wait for me to knock three times so you know it's safe. Go.”

Without waiting for an explanation, I did as he asked and made my way toward the toilets. Luckily, the men were all busy with their games and getting drunk. No one tried to stop me, or even see me. I sneaked inside and shut the door behind me, giving the key a turn for good measure. Now I just had to wait for Jean's signal. While at it, I unwrapped the small package he had given me to take a look.

It was a wooden box, simple but beautifully carved by hand. I opened the lid and had to chuckle. Soap. Jean's secret contraband aboard a pirate ship was soap. Before I knew it, laughter rumbled right out of me, filling the confined toilet room, forcing me to lean on the wall so I wouldn't literally roll on the floor.

Soap. Bless that man. I would have to get a bar for myself after we made port. Then we could both stash it away beneath the loose plank. A better knife, a coat and soap. What a strange shopping list.

Little more than a minute later, I heard three knocks on the door. I could finally wash without worries. Still, I wasn't going to take too long, just in case. I filled the basin with water, stripped my clothes and washed as fast as I could. The last thing I wanted was for my friend to get beat up by someone desperate to use the loo for doing me a favor. My hair took longer to clean, but thank God, I wasn't interrupted. By the time I was done, the water was a grimy gray color.

I dried out the best I could, dressed up, threw the water down the toilet and stored the soap back into its box, cloth securing it from prying eyes. I opened the door and gave Jean a very grateful smile before walking past him – but not without sneaking the box back into his hand.

No one needed to know we were colluded in our mission to upkeep a proper hygiene. It would be our little secret.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

I remember the One for All is a Charisma Enhancer headcannons and have had more thoughts, here you go:

One for All as an intelligence Stockpiler. Izuku gets it from Nedzu. Nedzu was a normal rat before receiving one for all. The power is intense. The two tear down society, all for one is defeated by sheer brain power.

One for All as a wisdom stockpiler. Life lessons galore, Izuku knows the meaning of life and distills the truth of the universe. Izuku manages to realize that everyone’s motives are stupid. He can’t convince anyone of this though, since his charisma is terrible.

One for all as a dexterity stockpiler. Agile, good with ranged weapons, sneaky. Eraserhead is perplexed at how this random child is out stealthing him. All of the previous holders are alive and were just in hiding thanks to mad ninja skills.

One for All as a stockpiler of foresight. Izuku can low key see the future, can tell what’s going to happen based on vibes, and how reacting certain ways might influence that. Nighteye is jealous, his quirk is terrible in comparison.

One for all stockpiles attractiveness. All Might is the number one hero because he’s the most popular and sells the most merch. It just makes Izuku unbelievably handsome. Aoyama is jealous. Izuku becomes an idol, and takes down All for One with the power of friendship.

One for All stockpiles weakness, so it’s actually just a terrible curse that makes someone terminally ill like Yoichi. Yay.

One for All stockpiles stocks. It makes you really business savvy. Izuku may not be a pro hero, but he’s going to make bank.

One for All stockpiles luck.

Haha this is really fun!

Stockpiling intelligence might be arguably dangerous. I'm reminded of Taravangian from the Stormlight Archives, who has fluctuating intelligence and locks himself up when he gets too smart because that's when his ideas go too far.

Pocketramblr has a great OFA stockpiles beauty AU at https://pocketramblr.tumblr.com/tagged/ofa%20stockpiles%20beauty%20au

Luck is perhaps the most useful ability of the bunch. And it explains the usual protagonist knack for being at the center of all events.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Someone asked for bl recs and since I'm still new in the fandom I decided to just give a short breakdown of the ones I have watched. Including horniness level. Red flag level. Where to watch. Etc.

Love In The Air

Horny level: 5/5

on iqiyi (subscription)

Two young college students get involved with two older men who illegally race motorcycles.

Plot and acting could be better but it's charming and the lead couples work really well together. Notable for very horny sex scenes. (There's never talk of lube though, but that's every show I've seen so far)

Significant number of red flags that somehow turn green, if you're into that.

Red flag rating starts at like 4.5/5 and then drops exponentially and somehow gets genuinely cute and supportive?? By the special episode those red flags are whipped lol.

Each couple gets about half the season dedicated to themselves.

This gif made me watch it.

Kinneporsche on iqiyi

Horny level: 4/5

Look it's just good. it was popular for a reason. Excellent chemistry, fun and engaging plot. Great action scenes. The theme song slaps.

Product placements are more noticeable than others.

The new head of a crime family low key kidnaps a man to be his bodyguard. Fun tropes ensue. These two are so horny for each other. It's also genuinely funny.

One side couple is very cute and sweet (mostly) and the other is red flag central, not safe, sane, or consensual.

There are a lot of interesting and well done family dynamics going on in this, which is what actually taught my attention.)

Cutie pie series

Rated, like, R probably

Horny level: 4 out of 5 ??

One of the classics, I guess it helped the genre blow up at the beginning of COVID and had a Moment.

Free on YouTube, or the uncut extra steamy version is on iqiyi. (The "censored" YouTube version is still pretty steamy though, ngl.)

Arranged marriage tropes galore. Broken engagements. Not-so-secret identifies. Miscommunication. Age gaps and height differences. Truly a gay regency romance told in the modern times.

People either seem to really like this or hate it. (The people who dislike it usually say they don't like the power dynamics at play.)

I didn't dislike or especially like it the first time I watched it but the second time it was really fun. It's kitsch. You've gotta embrace the kitsch and you'll be fine. A good casual watch.

Flags aren't exactly green but could definitely be more red.

Pretty decent acting, which gets better over time.

Known for some of the best kissing scenes in the genre tbh. Tongues everywhere. So much tongue. Very soft. Mouths on titties. Gotta respect the dedication.

(It has a sequel series called naughty babe that is equally silly that I enjoyed more because somehow the leads have a chokehold on me. They're the second couple in this. )

Seems like there are continuity errors but the books are just Like That I guess.

Love by chance

Free on viki rakkuten

Horny level 2/5 (pg-13, fade to black love scenes)

Formulaic but cute. Popular kid falls for lower class schoolmate. Rich assholes. Wholesome family moments. Really annoying side characters (one in particular )but the main couple is very sweet for the most part.

Good acting.

Red flag rating 1/5. (For normal teenaged possessiveness of the main couple.) The others? Who the hell knows.

I actually got really invested in the main couple and then they got nerfed in the second series and I rage quit. Continuity errors galore. I was rooting for you Tiffany.

(there's a surprise brother/brother ship plot that doesn't really go anywhere)

Two worlds

Horny level 3.5

Iqiyi

Starring the side couple from cutie pie. (Still in the chokehold) fun alternate reality plot that is actually pretty well done. The fantasy element could be stronger but the relationships are all interesting. Some really beautiful visuals. Naked painting sessions ala Titanic.

After Khram's beloved Phupha is murdered, something happens and Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, three years prior, Khram and Thai had been in love. However, that Khram was killed by Thai's dad. One day, Thai drives by a road and finds someone in the middle of the road. The face of that person stuns Thai because he looks exactly the same as his lover from three years ago. What will happen next?

Cave sex. That's what happens.

Some crazy shit happens in this one. It's a little hard to explain. Editing could be clearer. Acting is pretty good, and noticeably improving. The side couple is childhood friends to enemies to lovers which is fun.

I'm half convinced this was made because fans saw the nipple action in cutie pie, so they said"you want nipple action? We'll give you nipple action." And they went for it. But seriously, their scenes are very well choreographed and very sweet. (And really long.)

Pretty red flag free. Other than some light kidnapping. (Gotta have a meet-cute somehow)

I have to watch this one again tbh. (I have a bias with this one for some reason)

The sign

Free on YouTube.

Horny level 3.5/5 (I have a feeling others may rank it higher)

Psychic powers. Past lives. Snake men. Bird men. Soulmates. Gender fuckery. Crime mysteries. If those things interest you, you'll like it. Very good acting. Likable cast of characters. (Side characters you actually care about.) funny and goofy at times. Great action scenes. I was pleasantly surprised, and this is another one I think I may rewatch. I hope these two do more work together.

Red flag free except for That One Obviously Evil Handsome Doctor Guy

Only friends

Free on YouTube

Horny level: 4/5 a love scene in every episode so far.

A queer friend group in their 20's what could go wrong? Friends with benefits. Pining. Fucking by proxy. Past illicit relationships. Everyone wants someone other than who they have. Dysfunctional alcoholics and manipulative assholes. Various confusing love shapes. I've only watched a few episodes but already those two have got me fucked up.

Many flags of many colors

Love sea

Iqiyi

Horny rating: 5/5. (So horny )

A lonely, closed off romance author is sent to a beautiful island to work on his book. There he meets an annoying yet charming local who has been hired to keep him company. His back gets blown out. What will happen next? I expect they'll fall for each other and it'll be really cute but first it's gotta get messy.

Staring the second couple from Love In The Air

They are the epitome of black cat/golden retriever energy and it works for them. Great chemistry. Their acting is getting better. The script is better than LITA I feel like. The first episode is kinda awkward. The second episode is pure spice. The third is oddly sweet. It's still airing so idk.

There's a lesbian side couple that's heading towards the fake dating trope with added power dynamic fuckery so that's fun.

Red flag level: well, at this point I think it still technically counts as prostitution so ...

Aaaand I've got whole lists of stuff saved ranking from "I'm gonna cry" to "I'm horny" to "I'm horny and I'm gonna cry" which I may do later as I get through them ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

... I am now realizing that these are mostly MAME works, who I guess is known for being problematic but idk, I'm having a great time.