#anyway. an otherwise perfect fruit

[essektheylyss]

picnic lunch of cheese and crackers made exponentially more hedonistic by the inclusion of a pluot, mankind's closest attempt at achieving godhood to date

[chlix]

to do what i can do

pairing: seungmin x f!reader

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6.1k

warnings: insecurity, light angst, exactly three (3) uses of "y/n"

synopsis: after a conversation with hyunjin's girlfriend, you grow worried that you aren't putting enough work and attention into your relationship. seungmin dissuades you of this idea immediately.

a/n: literally never done this before so sorry if this formatting isn't standard. also ignore any spelling errors pls <3

Seungmin kisses you goodbye every morning. It’s like clockwork: he puts on his shoes, pours his coffee in a mug, kisses you goodbye, and is out the door. Both of you are routine-oriented people. You like schedules and organized silverware drawers. Ever since you first got together, Seungmin has been kissing you goodbye whenever you part ways, and nearly a year later that hasn’t changed. It’s sweet that he always remembers, and the fact that it’s practiced doesn’t make it feel any less sincere.

This morning is more of the same. You get up before him, as always, and put the coffee on. You check your emails while your breakfast cooks. Seungmin emerges just as the food is done (too late to actually eat it, as always) and goes to get his coat and shoes from the door. He loops back around to put his coffee in the cup you washed the previous night and leans down to where you’re sitting at the table to kiss you lightly on the lips. It’s so rote as to be unnotable, but it makes you smile anyway, your day instantly brighter.

“I love you,” you call after him, as you always do, and Seungmin waves as he leaves, throwing a “Be safe!” over his shoulder.  And then the door closes, and you’re alone.

In a few minutes, you’ll go to work at your office job. Later, you’ll come home and make dinner. At some point in the day, Seungmin will text you to let you know if he’ll be coming home or not, so that you’ll know if you need to make one portion or two. You normally make two anyway, and just leave the second wrapped up in the fridge. If worst comes to worst, you don’t mind eating the leftovers. It’s far more horrible in your mind to not have food ready for him when he is home. It’s not that Seungmin expects food from you. He’s expressed multiple times that he can buy food on his way home. But you like cooking for him, and lately you don’t get much chance because he’s so busy. You want things to be perfect when he’s home because the time you get together is precious. You’re not obsessive about it, or anything. You’re not “playing housewife” as your friends sometimes say. It’s not a crime to want to take care of your boyfriend.

Right now is a bit of a hectic period, and you haven’t seen him much for a while. You were surprised he even had the time to come home the previous night, although of course you were grateful. When he does come home, he gives you his undivided attention, like you’re the only person on earth. It makes the wait worth it. And he kisses you goodbye every morning because he loves you, and you can feel it on your lips all day, and it assuages the loneliness you might otherwise feel.

Today you have lunch with Ahrin, Hyunjin’s girlfriend. You have good relationships with the partners of all the boys, but you’re a bit closer to Ahrin, maybe because you two are so similar. Ahrin is quieter than the other women, and is more content to observe rather than participate. She’s witty and sharp-tongued, but still kind, and has a gentleness to her that makes her easy to open up to. She calls you up and complains she hasn’t seen you in a while and asks to have a meal with you that afternoon. You haven’t been feeling work very much, and you do miss her, so you agree to take a late lunch and meet her a cafe near your office.

Ahrin is radiant as always, and you make small talk about your families before devolving into complaining about mundanities: annoyances at work and the price of fruit at the supermarket. As you’re speaking, you notice Ahrin is wearing a dainty gold necklace that you don’t recognize, and cut yourself off to ask about it.

“Oh, this? It’s Cartier. Hyunjin bought it for me,” she says, bringing a hand up to touch the small pendant like she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “He’s on this kick about couple’s jewelry.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. It suits Ahrin’s softness and sophistication. He may have bought it because it was Cartier, but he clearly put some thought into it besides the designer label.

“Thank you,” she says, genuinely pleased. “I try to wear something he bought me whenever I go visit him.”

“Are you going to see him today?”

“I just come from there, actually. He took my credit card in his wallet, so I had to go get it back.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” you say.

Ahrin rolls her eyes. “I know. But it’ll work every time. I can’t help that I need it to go about my day.”

She doesn’t sound the least bit bothered. Ahrin and Hyunjin have been together for two years, and it’s a trick he’s pulled ever since they started living together, the “accidentally taking one of Ahrin’s things to work.” You’ve asked her before why she doesn’t confront him about it, but she says that she thinks it’s cute how he keeps coming up with excuses to see her, and anyway, she also likes having excuses to see him.

You also think it’s cute, if in a more wistful way. Seungmin is organized to a T, and he’s never needed you to bring him something he’s forgotten or vice versa. In fact, you can’t remember if you’ve ever visited him at work at all. You don’t think it’s that strange, though. It’s not like he’s made a habit of showing up to your workplace. Also, you likely wouldn’t have the time even if he’d offered. It does dampen your mood a bit though, especially as Seungmin texts you in the middle of your conversation that he in fact, would not be coming home today, meaning you would have to eat dinner alone tonight.

Ahrin notices the dip in your mood as you set your phone back on the table.

“Bad news?” she asks.

You swipe the notification away.

“It’s nothing. Seungmin just texting me about how busy they are.”

Ahrin hums in understanding. “Well, what can you do. At least it’s not as crazy as it was a few months ago.”

“Isn’t it?” You’ve been seeing less of Seungmin than you had in ages, and you’d assumed it was because their schedules had been bordering on unbearable lately. But Ahrin looks confused at your question.

“I don’t think so. Busier than last month, yeah. But they’re not filming anything right now, so the schedule isn’t as rigid. Seungmin hasn’t talked to you about this?”

You feel embarrassed, somehow. “He doesn’t talk about work much when he’s with me. He likes to keep it separate.”

“That makes sense. You should ask him to share his schedule with you, though. What if you need him and you don’t know where he is, or when he’ll answer?”

“I know where he’s at, generally. He tells me if he’s traveling. I just don’t know the minutiae.”

“You’re allowed to know. You should, for your own peace of mind.”

It’s not that it hadn’t occurred to you to ask. Seungmin told you his whereabouts if you questioned him, and he even volunteered information every once in a while, so you hadn’t thought much of it. And you didn’t suspect him of cheating on you ever in a million years. You knew he had other hobbies and friends as well- a whole life outside you that you weren’t privy to and didn’t need to be. But was it possible you were being a bit too aloof about your boyfriends daily habits? Why didn’t he share what he was doing, if he wasn’t at work? Why didn’t you know?

“I’ll ask him,” you say. “You’re right.”

Ahrin smiles encouragingly, and the topic is dropped for other matters. The odd feeling in your stomach doesn’t settle, though, and by the time you’ve finished your day and sat down to eat dinner, you realize you’ve unfortunately lost your appetite.

Seungmin calls you the next day to say he’ll be staying at the dorm for several days, and you tell him okay, thanks for telling me, I love you, goodbye. After you hang up the phone, you berate yourself for not asking more questions. You’re his girlfriend. You should be care that he’s leaving you alone for days at a time, you think as you drive to work. Maybe he’d been waiting for you to ask what he’d be doing or pester him for spoilers about the group’s upcoming plans. Maybe he wanted you to pout and whine about missing him and beg him to come home. You’d never done any of those things before, but maybe you should be. Maybe he’d called you hoping you would do those things and had hung up the phone disappointed.

The central problem of dating an idol is always a scarcity of time. They’re always busy, and because they’re always busy, you as a partner need to have a life outside them that is full and fulfilling, and sometimes those two schedules conflict. You can go long stretches without spending meaningful time together, and it’s hard to cope with, especially when they’re within driving distance of you, but still inaccessible. You know, though, that a scarcity of time does not always mean a scarcity of attention. You’ve seen it in Ahrin and Hyunjin, in the Cartier necklace and the missing credit card, that Hyunjin thinks about Ahrin all the time, and Ahrin knows that he does, is thinking of him just as much if not more. She can languish in the thought that even if Hyunjin is not with her, he desperately wishes he was, and when she wears his necklaces and bracelets and $500 hair clips, Hyunjin knows she is also desperately thinking about him.

You and Seungmin don’t have a system like that. Seungmin isn’t in the habit of buying you expensive gifts, for starters. He’s frugal with his money, hyperaware that one day his youth and fame will fade, and he won’t have such extravagant income. You’re similarly pragmatic, and you’ve never resented him for this. And that’s not to say he never spends money on you. He buys you flowers and takes you on expensive dates. He bought you a new laptop and headphones without you saying anything, and your closet is full of fancy dresses that are each tied to a high class outing you’ve been on. For each one, he’d bought himself a shirt and jacket to match. But those aren’t things you wear every day to show off. They’re for special occasions, specific memories. There’s nothing you wear or carry daily that marks you as ‘his.’

And honestly, you’ve never really thought about yourself that way. You and Seungmin are together, and you live together (by whatever measure your living arrangements currently count as), but you’ve never longed to be “branded” in a way befitting a pair of earrings or an oversized sweater. You wear his clothes at home, but never out. You don’t feel the need to show up to his practices and recording sessions. You’ve never even asked if you were allowed. If Seungmin bought you a Cartier necklace, you aren’t totally sure you would wear it.

It hits you like a freight train when you put it all together: You don’t care enough about Seungmin. You’re comfortable with him, you feel like you love him, but you don’t care about him the way you’re supposed to care about him. You’re not involved enough. But then, the same goes for him too, doesn’t it? He knows what you do for work, but he rarely asks you about anything other than a cursory how was your day? He doesn’t pester you for anything, doesn’t ask you to visit him or stay up for him when he comes home late. Aren’t those things that he should expect from you as a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he care that you’re so obviously neglecting him? When he kisses you goodbye in the morning, is that because he misses you, or is that just a habit formed over these past months, a meaningless part of the morning ritual he couldn’t resist if he tried?

You feel caught in a lurch, unsure what to do now. Seungmin deserves better than you, clearly. He deserves a girlfriend who actually gives a fuck about his life. But maybe, if you start making up for it now, he’ll forgive the past few months of you being so terrible. He’ll realize that you are an attentive girlfriend, and that you do care about him and that you love him, and you can prove it, you swear, it took you a while to realize what was wrong but you’ve got it all straightened out now. 

You can change. You can fix this. You know you can.

-/-

The next time Seungmin comes home, you wake up first the next morning, like always. You go to put the coffee on, and you make breakfast, and you check your emails. Seungmin comes out, walks past you to his shoes and coat, and doubles back to get his morning coffee.

���Busy day today?” you ask.

Seungmin freezes in his movements, caught off guard by your question. He recovers quickly enough, and answers. “Not particularly. Vocal practice, some other things.”

“Oh, good. Do you think you’ll be home today then?”

Seungmin turns to face you, his cup abandoned on the counter, unfilled. “Is everything alright?”

“What?”

“Is something wrong? Do we need to talk?”

Oh god, it’s worse than you thought. Asking if he’s going to be home to eat dinner is enough for him to think something is amiss. Have you truly never asked him that before?

“Everything’s fine. It would just be nice to eat dinner with you, is all.”

Seungmin relaxes. He leans down to kiss you, but it lingers longer than normal, as if he’s savoring the touch, your attention. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “I love you. Have a nice day.”

You absolutely blossom under his affection, the verbosity atypical for so early in the morning.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

“I always am,” he says, and presses another peck to your lips before pulling away. He finishes pouring his coffee, grabs his coat, and waves as he leaves. You sit at the table, vibrating with satisfaction. You’re doing it, you’re giving him what he needs. Maybe all hope isn’t lost for you two just yet.

Your sky-high mood follows you to work, and the day keeps getting better with the discovery of cupcakes in the break room. One of your coworkers’ kids just had a birthday, and they had way too much food left over. You take one back to your desk to nibble on while you work, and even the mundanity of your daily tasks can’t bring you down from how well this day is turning out. Around midmorning, it occurs to you that this is the perfect opportunity to do something else nice for Seungmin by bringing him cupcakes. They’re not filming, which means they’re not on diets, so he can handle a bit of sugar and frosting, especially if it’s a gift from you. You borrow a container from the staff kitchen to carry some cupcakes and decide to defer your own lunch to deliver them across the city.

When you get to the JYPE building, though, you realize you have no idea what to do. You’re fairly sure you’re allowed access; the other girlfriends pop in and out all the time. But it’s possible no one here recognizes you, since this is the first time you’ve shown your face around here.

Being spontaneous is cute and quirky, but standing around lost and embarrassed grows tiring within seconds. You give up and decide to text Seungmin.

Are you busy?, you send, standing awkwardly by the door and hoping security doesn’t throw you out. Thankfully, he responds quickly.

Not super. Do you need to call?

Actually I’m in the lobby of your building. Can you come down?

Typing, and then a pause. Then more typing. Eventually the message comes through.

Ok.

You can’t decode that at all. It strikes you for the first time that you may be bothering him by driving over here. You did ask if he was busy, though. And it stood to reason that if you had time for a 5-minute phone call, he had time to come downstairs and accept the gift you’d brought him. It isn’t intrusive. This is what people do for each other when they care about each other.

It only takes a few minutes for Seungmin to round the corner into the lobby. His face is creased in concern, even worse than he’d looked this morning, and he’s walking at a brisk pace to stand right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

You don’t know how to respond to his intensity, so you just hold out the container towards him. “I brought you cupcakes.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. “You…made cupcakes?”

“I didn’t make them. A coworker brought them in. But I remember you saying you liked cupcakes, and I had a free minute, so I thought I’d bring them over before they got finished.”

Seungmin accepts the box gingerly, as though it contains a nest of wild hornets, or lit sticks of dynamite. “You drove all the way over here to give this to me?”

Your doubts go from an inkling to a full-on tumult. “Yes, I did. I was just thinking of you…I thought you might like something sweet.”

You don’t mean to look dismayed, but Seungmin must clue-in to the fact that this isn’t the reaction you were hoping for. He shifts the box to one hand and laces your fingers together with his other.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he says. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to bring me things.”

“It’s not out of my way. I had time.”

“Let me rephrase. You shouldn’t expend your lunch hour to bring me food. When are you going to eat now?”

“I’ll stay an extra half hour. It’s fine.”

Seungmin clearly isn’t satisfied with this. He tugs lightly on your arm, bidding you to follow, and you do, unsure of what else to do.

He takes you up a floor, and down a hallway to what seems to be a regular employee break room, where he gestures for you to sit down at one of the tables. You do, and he walks over to the fridge to get bottled water and brings back one for you, along with napkins and a knife from the drawer next to the fridge.

“If you aren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well share your spoils with me,” Seungmin says. He opens the container and takes out one of the cupcakes (and they are huge, to be honest, you kind of can’t believe they’re from a kid’s birthday party) and cuts it in half.

“Pick a side,” he says, and you do, and he carefully picks it up and lays it on a paper towel before sliding it towards you. He takes the other half, and you pick your desserts apart with your fingers. Seungmin tells an anecdote about Jeongin from their vocal lesson that morning. It’s…nice. You’re just spending time with your boyfriend, a quick stolen minute in the midst of your busy lives. The frosting is sickeningly sweet, and you find yourself reaching for the bottle of water without even thinking of it, and only later preen at the realization that Seungmin knew you would need to wash the artificial taste out and had brought you water preemptively. He knows you well enough to identify if something would suit your palette with only a glance.

Both of you don’t have much time to spare, so after fifteen minutes you wipe off your hands and clean off the table.

“I’ll bring the rest of these back upstairs,” he says. “They won’t last ten minutes once the others see them.”

“That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for, actually.”

“And here I thought you brought these only for me,” he says, but his lips are curled up, teasing. He kisses you goodbye, like always, lips sugary-sweet and soft as cotton-candy. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you tonight.”

Your heart grows three sizes. You’re on cloud nine. “Anytime,” you say.

That night you try very hard not to be an absolute freak about dinner. You cook nearly every day, so the cooking itself isn’t that special, but for some reason your usual rotation doesn’t feel good enough. Seungmin is coming home for the second day in a row, and you don’t want to reuse ingredients, or phone it in when you’d specifically asked him to come home. At the same time, a five-course meal is definitely doing way too much. You stop by the store on the way home and scan the shelves, before wrestling yourself into a compromise and getting ingredients for a meal you both enjoy, but you’re normally too lazy to bother after a long day at work. It’s nothing fancy, just time-consuming, but you’re in such high spirits that the labor doesn’t even feel harrowing.

Seungmin gets home a few minutes before you’re properly done, with the pot on the stove ticking down steadily as you wash dishes and spoons. Seungmin greets you as he walks in but vanishes quickly down the hall to shower and change into inside clothes. By the time he reappears, you’re all but done, and you’ve never been more satisfied with yourself as you dish the food into two bowls and set them on the table. Sure, maybe it’s “playing housewife” a little bit, but you don’t even care. If playing housewife is this rewarding, you might have to start doing it more often.

Seungmin raises his eyes as the dinner you prepared.

“Didn’t you complain that this is hard to make?” he asks. You shrug.

“Felt like cooking today,” is all you say. “No biggie.”

Seungmin sits down at the table, pushes his plate to the side, and looks directly at you. “Y/n. What’s going on?”

Anxiety shoots through you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not oblivious. You’ve been acting off all day.”

“Off?”

“Visiting me at the company? Cooking this fancy dinner? It’s not like you at all.”

“That’s not me being ‘off.’ I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Is that why?”

“No! I mean, you have. There is no ‘why’. Am I not allowed to miss my boyfriend?”

Seungmin looks distinctly unimpressed. “Nice try. Wanna go again?”

All your good humor from earlier is dissolving into your soup. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you. I just wanted to spend time with you today. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong. It’s just unusual for you. When you told me you showed up at the company, I thought something horrible had happened, because you never visited me before.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I never visit.”

“Why would that bother me?”

All your anxieties are simmering near the top, threatening to boil over. “Because the other members’ girlfriends visit all the time. I know they do. They have security clearance and everything. But I never do. I don’t even know where you are most days if I wanted to visit you.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re busy. You have a job you’re at all day, same as me. Some of the other members’ girlfriends work less or have other things going on.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you mutter. “Maybe I have too much going on.”

Seungmin looks hesitant at this. “If you feel you need to cut back, I’ll support you.”

“Is that what you want? Do you think I should work less?”

“No, I don’t. That’s not my decision anyway.”

“But I just…” You’re cracking, you know you are, you can hear it in your voice- “I just want to be there for you more. I want to be attentive.”

“You are attentive. You’re there for me all the time.”

“I’m not!” It bursts out of you more violently than even you expected. Seungmin is taken aback, eyes widening as you finally break. “I’m so aloof towards you, it’s awful. I never know where you are, or what you’re doing. I never ask you to come home to me. I don’t stay up for you. I don’t visit you. Other girlfriends have bracelets or necklaces they wear for their boyfriends, and I don’t do any of that. No one would even know we were dating, based on how we are now.” You suck in a breath, reminding yourself to stay calm. “I just don’t even know what you get out of being with me. I don’t do anything I’m supposed to do, and you keep letting me get away with it. And I thought if I changed, and I started trying harder, maybe I could fix it before you realize that I don’t deserve you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation and sadness making you feel dizzy and hot. Now that you’ve said it all out, it sounds ridiculous. It’s not as if you could fix a behavioral pattern with one good day. If your relationship really is rotten through, all you’ve done is draw attention to the problem and made it even worse. Contrasted with how you acted today, the past eleven months must seem downright hollow.

Seungmin sighs. “Y/n, look at me, please.”

You open your eyes and are horrified to see Seungmin looking absolutely mournful where he sits across the table. He looks so aggrieved, so weighed down, and a horrible rock forms in the pit of your stomach.

“First of all,” he says. “I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you don’t deserve me. It’s not true, and I won’t have you putting yourself down like that. You don’t decide what I deserve, I do. And I’ve decided you’re exactly what I want.”

You blink, confused at the turn of events. It’s a very Seungmin thing to say, yes, but in this situation, you didn’t expect him to double down on it so earnestly.

“Second of all, you’re not aloof towards me. I know you love me, and you care for me in your own ways. I also know you have a life outside of me that keeps you busy. I’m grateful for that. I would feel horrible if you spent a significant amount of your day just waiting around for me when we both know I can’t always be there.”

“That’s different,” you can’t help but interject. “You’re an idol. You can’t help that you’re busy.”

“You can’t help being busy either. Being an idol isn’t any more important than any other job. You have responsibilities too.”

You deflate, sagging in your chair. He takes this as license to continue.

“Third, I didn’t think you were the type to wear jewelry every day. If you want me to get you something, I can do that. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to wear something just because I bought it and it was expensive. Someday, if we get married, you’ll wear my ring, and that’ll be enough for me.”

He’s right. You don’t usually wear jewelry every day, and you would feel bad about not wearing something he’d specifically bought you as a gift. You’re starting to feel more and more foolish as this conversation continues.

Thankfully, his itemized list ends there, and he leans forward, dark eyes fixed on yours. He doesn’t look angry, or upset, just focused. Leave it to Seungmin to mind-map his way through a relationship crisis.

“Can you tell me what brought this on? It’s unlike you to be insecure. If I’ve done something to make you think you’re not good enough for me, I’d like to know so that I can change my behavior.”

You let out a long breath, giving up the fight in the face of Seungmin’s rationality.

“I had lunch with Ahrin the other day. I was complaining about how you’re so busy these days, I rarely see you. Ahrin said you guys actually haven’t been that busy. It made me realize I don’t actually know your schedule, like what you do all day, much less outside of work. And I also realized part of the reason I haven’t seen you much is because I never ask to see you. You have no reason to spend time with me when it seems like I don’t even want you around.” Your voice trails off as you continue, shame sticking the words in your throat.

Seungmin hums, thinking. He lifts his hand up and stretches it toward you, your sign to extend your own hand so he can lace your fingers together. You oblige, and the contact settles you a bit.

“I have never thought for one second that you didn’t want me around. I don’t take offense to you not knowing my schedule either. I know I don’t talk about work much. It might be a flaw of mine.”

“Hyunjin is always playing these little games with Ahrin to get her to come see him. But I’ve always felt that you’d prefer I stay away when you’re working.”

Seungmin hesitates again. “That might be right. That’s not because I don’t love spending time with you, though. It’s the opposite.”

“I…don’t follow.”

“Whatever you believe, the other members’ partners don’t really come around all that much, but when they do come around, it’s not really a big event. They’re just spectators. Like when Ahrin visits us at practice, it’s easy for Hyunjin to pretend she’s not there and keep working. I couldn’t do that. If you were in the room with me, I don’t think I could be as focused as I normally am. I’d be distracted because all my attention would be on you and how you’re doing. That’s why I’ve never encouraged you to visit.”

A small hysterical part of you wants to twist his words somehow, to start a fight about him calling you a ‘distraction’ and all it implies, but you know what he meant. It’s a fairly big admission he’s given, that he couldn’t keep control of himself if you were in his eyeline. It’s…unexpectedly flattering.

“I fluster you that badly?” you ask, half-teasing, half-curious. But Seungmin answers you dead serious.

“Embarrassingly so. When I went back upstairs with the cupcakes, Minho-hyung didn’t give me a second to breathe before commenting on it.”

You find yourself grinning. “Really?”

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s unkind.”

“I’m not laughing,” you say, even though you definitely are. Seungmin rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat or embarrassment in them.

“You could at least be sorry about it.”

“I’m very sorry that I got you bullied by your bandmates,” you say dutifully. “I promise I will do my best not to place you in such a compromising position again.”

“You can visit me if you want,” Seungmin rebuffs. “I can take a little teasing if you really want to see me. My point is just that you shouldn’t feel like you have to because the other girlfriends do.”

“Okay.” You nod, then venture out into the part of the conversation you’ve been avoiding. “If that’s all true, why do you stay away so often? It’s okay if you just have other things to do, but why do you let me think you’re at work if you aren’t?”

You aren’t sure what he’s going to say to this. You believe in his loyalty, always, and you don’t think he truly intended to lie to you, but you still can’t figure out who’s to blame here, and how this miscommunication has persisted between you for so long.

To your surprise, Seungmin’s ears flare red. His grip tightens on your hand, like he’s fighting himself, but you can tell he answers you honestly when he says,

“I was worried I was imposing on you.”

You blink. “Imposing?”

Seungmin is no longer meeting your eyes, his gaze lowered to the table. “Like I said, I don’t want you to constantly be waiting around for me. I don’t want you to get used to having me around, and then when I go on tour, or get busy with activities, you feel my absence stronger. Then, when I come back, I become an inconvenience as you try to fit me into your life again. It’s hard, and it’s unfair. I thought it would be easier to try to keep the same level of involvement all the time, so that you didn’t miss me too badly when I was gone, and I didn’t annoy you too much when I came back.”

You hardly let him finish his sentence before you say, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You keep your attention from me so that I won’t miss you later? How does that make any sense? I miss you regardless. That’s the point of being in a relationship.”

Seungmin winces, and you decide to dial back your indignance. He’d spoken to you evenly, and you could do the same for him.

“Sorry. I just meant that you shouldn’t keep yourself away from me in an effort to spare my feelings. I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I know some times will be easier than others. I appreciate your efforts to mitigate that, but this isn’t the way. You being gone so often is all the more reason to be overt and intense when we do have time together. It’s fine to not want to spend all your free time with me, but don’t ever think wanting to be around me is imposing, or hurting me in some way, because it’s not.”

Seungmin looks properly chastised. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be around more.”

“And I’ll ask for you more. We both need to stop holding ourselves and each other back.” You let out a little laugh. “We’re acting like it’s embarrassing to be in love or something.”

“Hyunjin said the same thing to me once.”

“Hyunjin is smart in exactly one area,” you acquiesce. “Ahrin is a lucky girl.”

“Comparison is the thief of joy,” Seungmin mutters. You lean forward over your cold dinner and press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I didn’t say she was luckier than me.”

You both grin.

-/-

Next week, Monday. You wake up at your usual time, put on coffee, make breakfast. You clear your entire inbox because fuck the sales department, they can say whatever they need to say in the meeting this afternoon. You set your phone down and enjoy the warmth of the tea you brewed and watch the sun come up outside your living room window.

Seungmin gets up, gets his shoes and coat, and doubles back around.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning.”

“Busy day?”

“Nope. I’m free after lunch.”

“Lucky. I have an awful meeting from two to four.”

“You’ll do fine,” Seungmin says. “Sales isn’t the boss of you.”

“They actually are,” you groan, and Seungmin laughs at your dismay. He kisses you goodbye, tells you to be safe. You tell him you love him. The front door opens and closes.

At around 1pm, your phone buzzes with a text.

Are you busy?

Eh. Why?

I’m in your lobby.

No way.

You grab your security pass and head towards the elevators, watching every floor tick down until it lets you out on the ground floor. Seungmin is sitting in a chair in reception, holding a white cardboard box. When he sees you approach him, he grins and holds it up.

“Got time for cupcakes?”

Your smile is so wide it’s splitting your face in half. “Follow me. The break room is on the fourth floor.”

-/-

“I didn’t even know you knew what building I work in.”

“I looked it up on NAVER.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why reinvent the wheel when someone invented the iPhone, y/n.”

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid!reader

⤀ warnings: fem! reader, no pronouns mentioned a/n: another thing sitting in drafts that I was actually saving for Mermay ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼 next ﾉ series masterlist

He was out at a cove, a little ways off from port ormos, studying newly discovered runes carved along the sea cavern walls. Your song was supposed to lure him to his watery grave, but….

“These earpieces are soundproof.” You’re caught by surprise when he responds in your language. His pronunciation is a little off, but to be fair, merfolk are an ancient race and haven’t been sighted in a very long time. As such, whatever linguistic knowledge that’s been preserved up until now is… distorted at best.

The two of you strike up a deal: you help him perfect the language of your people, and he’ll introduce you to the wonders of the world above. A fair exchange. You agree to meet at this same cove on nights of the full moon, although the interval between these meetings grow increasingly shorter, so much so that you find yourself visiting this human once a week. He’d always arrive just as the sun sets, skipping a chunk of crystal ore out into the sea, indicating his arrival.

“And what did you bring for me today?”

“These are called zaytun peaches.”

“Ooh they’re sweet! And jucier than bubble berries…”

“I wasn’t aware fruits could grow underwater.”

Alhaitham is a scholar with an eager mind, so when things peak his interest, it’s second nature to want to satiate his curiosities. He asks his questions, but never pushes you to answer. With time, you grow comfortable enough around him to openly divulge your life beneath the waves, and it becomes a wonderful exchange of language and culture.

“Would you like to come underwater?”

“I know you didn't like the harra fruit today, but I thought you'd given up trying to drown me. Soundproof earpieces remember?” he says, tapping said headphones.

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself further up out of the water, until your faces are only mere inches apart. That's not what you meant at all.

"They say a mermaid's kiss will give you the ability to breathe underwater...let me show you my world." Your voice, hypnotizingly low and sultry, immediately send alarms ringing in his head. Your fingers brush against his cheek, your touch feather light as you whisper into his naked ear, "Do you trust me?"

In the time Alhaitham had spent with you, he had never forgotten about the dangers of a mermaid's seduction. But at this proximity, with you so close and your voice so enchanting... he feels his head spin, like he's in some sort of trance where it's nigh impossible to deny you anything. As if by instinct, Alhaitham subconsciously reaches for the headphones hanging around his neck— his safety net, his life raft.

You pull away, sinking back into the waters. So he doesn't trust you. It's no surprise due to the nature of your very being, and to hope otherwise would be foolish. Still, its difficult to hide the irritation and hurt that laces your words before you bid him an awkward farewell.

Once you disappear into the sea, Alhaitham lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands. Next time you meet, if you decide to return at all, he'll remember to teach you about the intricacies of human courtship rituals.

a/n2: alhaitham is allergic to rizz ;\ this was supposed to be just a short brainrot but i had so many thoughts about this (and still have more unwritten) anyways i love mermay what a great month to be online, so much pretty art

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone. 

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg. 

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad. 

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed. 

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself. 

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way. 

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

 As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town. 

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived. 

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months. 

The smell of the outdoors. 

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.” 

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

[cinnbar-bun]

Mihawk Gen NSFW HCs

Rating: NSFW, it's all smut here baby

Headcanons are under the read more.

You can read this on my AO3 here!

A generous, thorough lover, who doesn’t waste any time getting down to business with you. 

Mihawk is incredibly patient and passionate with his touches. It’s intimate, it’s loving, and he uses physical action to express more of what he feels than through his own words. 

Mihawk, first and foremost, is a lover of roleplay. And not just any roleplay. No, no, no- we’ve seen how extra Mihawk is in general, and it is no different in the bedroom. He loves certain “themes” (which you begin to recognize the pattern of after a few ‘sessions’ with him). 

His favorite roleplay scenarios include: 

Injured, wandering swordsman needing a place to stay and heal after a terrible battle, and you happen to find him and take him in (and fuck him). 

Wandering swordsman comes across a dark castle with you trapped inside due to your evil father/lord (and then you fuck). 

Lord of the castle sees you trespassing on his estate and takes you as his prisoner (whom he falls majorly in love with and fucks).

Loyal swordsman/bodyguard falls for his lord despite the different class ranks and society forbidding your love (you two fuck anyways). 

Dark vampire swordsman invites you into castle after you stumble in during a terrible storm (and then he fucks you to remind you to never trust unsuspecting strangers in their dark castles).

This man gets VERY into his scenarios. He’s preparing a script for himself, buying outfits and decor that perfectly match the theme (because how DARE you try to have sex in a room that is NOT accurate to gothic interior design), and lighting different scents and waiting for the perfect weather. 

That doesn’t mean he’ll never have sex otherwise, he’s just a very detail-oriented person who gets really caught up in things like settings and feelings. It makes the sex better when all his senses are filled with what he feels are the “correct” attributes of a scene. It makes him excited that you trust and enjoy playing along into these scenarios with him, and he views it as a bonding activity. 

He wasn’t particularly sexually active with someone before, so when you two get close together, he begins to read plenty of romance novels to get an idea or two for a good way to woo and excite you. This does mean reading plenty of smut. You can tell when he’s reading it by the way his face looks even more serious than usual. It’s very subtle compared to his normal appearance, but when he furrows his brows and nods curiously at different times, he’s almost certainly reading a smutty scene. 

A way you can tell he’s in the mood (beyond him proposing and asking to do a roleplay session with you), is when he kisses your neck more and offers you plates of fresh fruits like apples, pomegranates, figs, or strawberries. 

Speaking of fruits, he’s not averse to food play. It depends on the type of food, generally, but with things like fruits or even honey, he’s absolutely down for it. If you two are really feeling frisky, he might pour wine on you and lick it off. 

Despite his eagerness to cut his enemies down- he absolutely will NOT cut you. To him, as a swordsman, seeing any scars on you would mean he has failed to protect you, and he sees that as a source of shame. It would take a while before he dares bring a knife or sword into the bedroom to use on you. Until then, it might appear as a prop or just be held by your side to get the “thrill” of being cut. 

I also doubt he’d enjoy getting cut either, as a scar is a source of shame on a swordsman. Actual cuts are not something he wants, but he probably would not mind something like hickies or hand/finger prints. 

He does enjoy restraints- whether on you or him. He prefers ropes and leather belts over something like handcuffs. Hell, even your own hands will be good too. 

Mihawk adores your neck and your hands. Pro tip, moisturize your hands a lot and he will spend his time peppering kisses all over your hands. 

He can get sappy as hell during foreplay. He will kiss all over your arms and hands and body. It’s Gomez Addams levels of adoration towards you. 

Tends to whisper affectionate nicknames to you, and occasionally, when he’s really into it, he will whisper beautiful words of praise for you in his language (I personally hc him as Transylvanian so I think he’d speak Romanian, but I know many others believe him to be Spanish or Italian so hey, whatever floats your boat my lovelies <3. You can just imagine). 

Mihawk isn’t loud during bed (but then again, when is he ever?), but he lets out the most beautiful moans and pants ever. When he gets close, his breath picks up and ugh, can you imagine the world’s strongest swordsman just panting in your ear? It’s a sound you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. 

He is rather possessive but also respectful of your feelings, so he wouldn’t prefer to have public sex or sex with a risk of getting caught. He would not have sex where Perona or Zoro could easily walk in (Perona has made that mistake once and never again), so Mihawk always blocks off a room in the castle specifically for the both of you to indulge in all of your whims together with. Everyone else knows not to step in there for fear of Mihawk’s wrath. 

His aftercare is wonderful, and during this time, he may become more talkative. It’s more so to make sure you were okay and if you enjoyed it or not. He’d carefully tend to you and clean you and the bed up before you to go to sleep or back to work. 

Mihawk likes to have sex with you the night before he leaves to various missions. One reason being that it’s a way for you two to enjoy the intimacy of each other before a long stretch of time where he’s off. Two, he likes seeing the smile on your face and the post-sex afterglow that surrounds you when you begin to fall asleep. It comforts him and gives you a good reminder of him when he’s gone in the morning (not without him leaving you a note saying he’ll seen you soon). 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Do ASGCZ have any secret quirks or things they do that are just bizarre enough that they have to keep a secret from everyone?

Genesis: He's adamantly against dog-earing books, constantly lectures anyone within earshot about the importance of maintaining the integrity of the pages and how folding corners is a sin. Secretly the worst offender, dog-ears his books and then uses a flat iron to smooth out the creases.

Sephiroth: Not sure if it counts, but he once accidentally stole two energy drink cans from the vending machine. He bought one, but the machine didn't accept his coins, the can dropped anyway. He tried shoving the can back in, but instead it triggered the release of another can. He just grabbed both and ran. They sit at the bottom of his desk drawer, and every time he finds them, he's reminded that he's technically leading a life of crime.

Angeal: Got himself into the worst pickle ever. He bought a discount box cake mix one time, made it, and then jokingly told everyone he made it from scratch. They bought it, now he's too deep in the lie to tell them otherwise. He's made this cake for parties, promotions, etc, and every time Sephiroth praises his baking, Angeal cries. Sephiroth just thinks he's emotional about baking.

Cloud: He acts like things don't hurt when they clearly do. It's a habit he picked up when he was a kid, wanting to seem tough. He forgets he's supposed to react to pain. But instead he's perfected this stoic mask, the kind where he stubs his toe or nicks himself with a knife and it's like nothing happened.

Sephiroth, casually stepping on Cloud's foot: Oh, forgive me.

Cloud: Didn't even feel it.

Sephiroth: You're bleeding, and the foot is turning purple. May I take you to Medical?

Cloud: The greatest pains are internal.

Sephiroth: +100 respect

Zack: Is unable to throw away fruit stickers. He can't do it. Something deep within his core doesn't allow him to. The problem is, he's run out of notebooks to stick them in. So now, when he finishes a fruit, he just sticks the label wherever it fits. Walls, shelves, his bedpost. One time he made the mistake or finishing a Banora White and then putting the sticker in Sephiroth's hair. Sephiroth found the sticker and assumed it was Genesis. Sephiroth then terrorized Genesis with a knife.

[cheeekycharchar]

The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do the reaction of yanderes hashiras when they see the male reader vomiting in disgust/rejection after the hashiras kissed him?

Rejecting The Hashira’s Kiss | Yandere Kimetsu no Yaiba X Male Reader

Whether it was a misread moment or just someone having the audacity to put their lips against yours; they are met with a solid rejection. Even if you refuse them they have no plans to stop their pursuit. All this is just a minor obstacle…yep…just..a little pothole in the road of your love:

Rengoku Kyojuro

He doesn’t ask 

He just goes right in 

Catching you off guard as he firmly kisses your unmoving lips

“BLEGH! Ew what’s your problem?! Kyojuro!?”

“I DID IT FOR GOOD FORTUNE!”

“Good Fortune my foot! Don’t go kissing people who don’t want to be kissed!”

He’s not discouraged at all 

in fact, this only spurs him to try harder to gain your affection

Or hopefully shooing of any one else who’s interested

He doesn’t bother licking his lips but I certainly see him putting his lips up to different things to…compare

“THIS MELON IS COLD NOT AT ALL LIKE (Y/N)’S LIPS. WHICH ARE WARM! AND SOFT! AND IRRESISTABLE!”

“Sir, are you going to pay for the fruit or not?”

Shinobu Kocho

Is probably tending to you after a mission

And she just can’t help herself 

You were just looking so cute with your broken arms

So she just went for it 

“Ew um can you not.”

She stares blankly at you 

Before doing it again

“What are you going to do? Stop me?”

She’s going to spend the rest of your stay showing you how little you can do in comparison to her

And how powerless you are to defy her medicinal ‘ailments’

Leaving you bedridden for however long she pleases

Seating herself on your waist too weak to buck her off

“Don’t think for a moment you can stop me, you are mine and I’ll have what I want of you when I want it.” 

Uzui Tengen

Flamboyant as ever he’s not one to hide his emotions

Or what he wishes to do 

So when he goes for the kiss he kisses deep

Completely disregarding the world’s take on social customs

“I’ll be flamboyantly missing you on my mission, farewell my gem.”

The kiss is deep and while you may pull away he’s keeping a firm hold on your waist

Letting his fingers graze against your butt

When you pull away to spit Tengen makes a note of it

And will dive back into capturing your lips

“Don’t let any of me my sparkling saliva out of your mouth, otherwise I’ll have to punish you~!”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

It takes a lot to hype himself up to do this

Despite being as prickly as he is 

he blushes and gets week in the knees around you

So when he moves fast to kiss you he’s embarrassed when your lips curl in disgust

“Ewww…that was so gross.”

He’s so hurt 

But that sadness morphs to anger 

And when demons don’t cut it 

He’s fighting you 

“WHEN SOMEONE GIVES YOU A KISS, YOU KISS THEM BACK!”

Mitsuri Kanroji

Love is her element 

So of course, she’s going to kiss you as soon as she feels like the mood’s been set

When you reject her, she is reminded of all the times such a thing has happened before

“Oh…you didn’t like that…huh?”

She’s hurt so so hurt

But her tears are so pretty

So perfect you’ll cave

That is if her guard snake doesn’t come for you first

“Y-you’re s-sorry..hm..i-i’ll definitely feel better if you give me a kiss though…please?”

Obanai Iguro 

He’s hesitant to even come near you 

Often preferring to watch you from afar

He usually thinks he’s lesser than you

A monster in every right that is protecting his beauty in the shadows

So he’ll wait until your sleeping or so high on medicine that you can’t recognize him

“Y-yuck..”

“...I am sorry.”

So crestfallen he probably won’t talk to you out of embarrassment despite you’re actual cluelessness

“Kabumaru love is cruel..isn’t it?”

Giyuu Tomioka

Nobody likes him anyway

And when he’s shoulders deep in his obsession for you he stops caring

He no longer lets being likable by anyone stop him from what he wants

“-ick! Eww, I can’t believe you–”

“I can hardly resist you (Y/n), even if you hate me.”

Nothing’s off the table 

But he pretty much is willing to do whatever it takes

He’s witnessed so many die at the hands of demons

He doesn’t care how you feel 

That will not be your fate

“It doesn’t matter what you think of me. I’m not letting you free.”

Gyomei Himejima

He can’t see your beauty which he cries about often

But thanks to his lack of sight you let him feel your face

“If only for my mind’s eye, may I?”

“Yeah Gyomei no problem.”

It’s his dirty little pleasure

Curious about your figure 

He holds you steady holding your shoulders

And he accidentally let’s his lips brush against your own

He gets the message when you pull away

He knows it’s probably out of disgust, but he can delude himself into thinking it was out of embarrassment

And that let’s him smile in his lonesome

“My apologies was that your lips?”

Muichiro Tokito

He thinks being the young kid he is, you won’t mind

When he jumps up to give you a kiss 

And when you recoil asking him what that was about

He’ll wistfully sigh because you didn’t react the way he wantedyou to

“Don’t friends kiss each other before they leave.”

He feigns ignorance as he mulls upon your rejection

He figures he’s got time to convince you he’s worthy of your kisses

And then he forgets 

Aiming for a kiss again with some other excuse to pursue his little crush on you

“I think of you like a brother…don’t family kiss each other?”

[nerdyagere]

Regressor!Law has no fics and almost no posts huh... ready to step in as the CEO of Regressor!Law dw guys (/j)

Here are my current thoughts though:

- He's a very quiet boy and prefers quiet/low noise environments, mainly because when he grew up with Cora he would often use his devil fruit to drown out loud noises, especially at night, and Law generally has sensitive ears anyway but usually ignores his discomfort, when he's regressed its a lot harder to push that off

- Oh boy he's a crier, his childhood is filled to the brim with grief and tragedy, not only that but he definitely pushes off regression as often as he can so when he finally drops, it's a big release of built up emotion all at once, good thing he has his crew for comfort! Especially Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, they've been around the longest

On really bad days he'll end up a loud crier too, hes usually stifling his sobs but sometimes its just too much, it's a big build up of emotion he can't help himself, and it only makes him feel so much worse about it, thankfully Bepo almost always comes running and his fur is perfect for not only comfort but muffling noise

Only issue with Bepo is that he'll also start crying because Law's crying, which makes Law feel bad so Penguin and Shachi are always there as extra support (Shachi's the best at making him giggle and Penguin makes some awesome tea)

- He's really sensory focused, he loves stuffies (but god he'll never ask for them, he can't get himself to) and he'll almost always change into a hoodie or something comfy when regressed, feels too tight and scratchy otherwise

If he doesn't like the feel of something, he'll make it known real fast, which ends with him being a picky eater because some textures are gross!

- He's a tired boy, see those eyebags he has normally? Yeah they feel even heavier when he's teeny, instead of playing and doing whatever else kids will do he'd much rather curl up with Bepo or someone else and take a nap

(He can get a bit picky about germs and generally feels embarrassed sucking on his fingers but as he gets closer and closer to sleep, you'll start to see his thumb slip closer and closer to his lips, half the time it just lays there and the other half it'll slip into his mouth once he knocks out)

---

So many thoughts I love him so much... I give him a big kiss on the forehead... (he scrunches his face up and kicks me until I fall over)

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Revealed Feelings

masterlist

pairing: sirius black x female reader

warnings: insecurity, kissing, fluff, smallest amount of angst?

summary: your boyfriend broke up with you and you go to your best friend sirius, who ends up admitting his feelings for you

a/n: i recently finished reading shadow and bone and ben barnes was in my head whenever the darkling was in a part of the book, anyway now i started six of crows

song: reflections - the neighbourhood

"I'm sorry, Y/n," your now ex-boyfriend says.

You hold back your tears, not wanting to cry in front of him. "I'm sorry too, for all the girls who think you're going to be a good boyfriend," you look at him before turning around and walk away.

You hear him calling after you but you ignore him as you wipe the tears off your face with your sleeve. When you get in you see it's empty, probably because it's so late at night.

You grab your favorite book off the shelf and go sit on one of the couches. Not a minute later you feel your book being grabbed and your feet being lifted onto someone's lap. You look up and see your best friend grinning at you.

You ask yourself why he would be in the library, but then you realized he most likely used the Marauders Map to find you.

The grin on his face is quickly replaced with a worried frown when he sees you have been crying. "Why are you crying, love?"

You let out a huff, "It's nothing. Really," you weakly smile at him.

"The tears on your beautiful face tell me otherwise," he runs his fingers up and down your leg.

"It's just- my stupid boy- ex-boyfriend is a git," you tell him.

His eyes widen, "Ex-boyfriend?" If it were not a bad time, Sirius could have smiled. "What happened?"

"Too much stuff to say. But he broke up with me," you look at your lap. "I don't know. I mean, I know I didn't do anything wrong, but sometimes I feel like I'm just not... well, good enough," the words taste bitter on your tongue. You felt disgusted for letting a trashy guy make you feel that way about yourself.

Sirius lifts your legs off his lap and moves right next to you. He puts his hand under your chin and makes you look at him. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again," he whispers. "You are the most intelligent, sweet, and perfect person I've met." Sirius runs his other thumb over your cheek to wipe the tear.

You blush and avert your eyes, but he taps a finger on your jaw, getting you to look back at him. "You are too good for someone like him. In fact, you're too good for everyone. A-and I..." Sirius lets out a breath. "This is probably a bad time to say this, but... I love you - romantically."

You smile at him. As much as you want to say it to him, it doesn't feel right to say it right after the breakup.

"You don't have to say it back. But I want you to know that I love you, more than I've ever loved anything," he looks at you. His eyes are so mesmerizing.

He eyes drop to your lips after your teeth tug on the bottom one. He takes his thumb and slides it on your bottom lip, pulling it from your teeth. He glances up at you and says, "If you keep doing that I don't know if I can keep myself from kissing you."

You think for a moment, "What if I don't want you to?"

His wide eyes shoot up to yours, looking at you intensely, trying to find any sign of you lying. You give him the slightest nod and he wastes no time to bring his lips to yours.

His feels like he's dreaming. Your soft, warm lips are like the sweetest fruit on his mouth. He smiles in the kiss and you smile too.

He pulls back and your eyes flutter open. His lips brush against yours as he speaks, "Whenever you're ready, would you go out with me?"

"I would love nothing more," you whisper and pull him towards you again.

[flutterby-bog]

Some additional headcanon notes nobody asked for, but this time in an overanalyzed format:

Scars

He's got a few scars on his face and a slightly crooked jaw from when it got broken when Bog was still a teen. The same group of goblins that did this had shattered his mother's horns in an attempt at taking the throne by force. These scars and battle damage are all that remain of those goblins.

Height

It's subtle, but Bog's torso segments can extend and retract due to a vestigial adaptation which insects use for breathing. Since he does not have an insectoid respiratory system this has only ever been used for changing his height for any reason. As demonstrated below:

A tall Bog is a confident Bog. When he's insecure he will shrink (either by hunching or drawing himself inward). The difference changes his height substantially. Even at his shortest, at least while standing upright, Bog still towers over Fairies.

Respiratory System

Bog has a large pair of fairy-like lungs inside his chest cavity, perfect for flying with such a heavily weighted body and belting out extended notes for long periods of time. His chest has additional segments that evolved over several molts to allow for efficient contraction/expansion of said lungs.

Vascular System

Has red blood, and a similar pulse to a Fairy, though the pulse is slower and a little louder. His normal level of blood pressure also sits higher than a fairy's. This leads to occasionally related headaches but otherwise does not seem to affect Bog's health.

Skeletal and Muscular System

Has a fusion of both internal and external skeletal systems throughout his body with exception of his torso, which is primarily exoskeleton, and his head, neck, hands, and feet, which lack exoskeletal plating.

His muscles do exist, but they are mostly on the inside of the exoskeletal parts. They are only visible in exposed areas like the underside of his forearms, where his legs connect to his torso, and his neck.

Along his lower legs and his jaw Bog has spurs of bone that sticks out. For insectoids these spines function as tactile receptors and additional grip. For Bog, these are just sensitive and drive Marianne wild for some reason he can't exactly fathom.

Motor Control

Bog has a lot more voluntary control over his body than a Fairy does. His feet are basically another pair of hands with an extended heel and are only slightly less dexterous than his hands. If he wanted to play the piano with his feet, he could easily... If he ever wanted to learn piano, anyway.

He also has individual control over his wings and various segments of his body, especially the ones that are along his shoulders that look like natural pauldrons. Bog likes to flex those in particular to make himself look more intimidating.

Sight

Bog's able to see more in the violet and UV spectrum than a Fairy can. Also exceptional night vision. Take Marianne's wings for example...

Normal Fairy Vision sees visible light.

Bog's Vision - This is what he was seeing the whole time. Well, at night anyway. When the sun came up he got the UV spectrum on her wings too and well, he was already a goner anyway.

Smell

That big nose of his isn't just for show. He's got a powerful sense of smell, which is why he will habitually breathe through his mouth sometimes or he just would get overwhelmed with the amount of scents nearby. Especially if he has to visit the Fairy Kingdom in Spring. Way too many flowers and perfumes.

Diet

Pretty much the same diet as a fairy except he eats meat in addition to the fruits and plants that a fairy can ingest. Does not enjoy overly sweet flavors like honey as much as Marianne does. Prefers spicy. The exception is tea. He very much enjoys tea.

Insectoid Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Grooming. He'll dust off his wings frequently by running his arm against them.

Damaged wings. His wings are permanently damaged from being attacked. He will never get new ones.

Molts. He molts far less now but when he was younger he would frequently molt.

Puberty. Did not always have wings. Did not have a cocoon stage but over a period of several molts started growing his wings.

Betrayed emotions. If you know how to read his body language, you can look past the grumpy face. When he's nervous, his wings will pulse in successively. When uncomfortable/embarrassed/anxious he will get very fidgety. When angry, involuntarily rattles (ch-ch-ch-ch noise) his wings and shoulder segments. His expression might look "angry" when he's actually not. Sometimes it's just a mask (unless he's rattling then for peat's sake, Thang, get out of the way! You should know better by now...)

Jumpy. Loud noises/vibrations/quick movements will startle Bog, causing him to involuntarily flinch/jump fairly easily. Beware his fast reflexes, though. Just because you make him jump doesn't mean you got the jump on him.

Goblin Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Dominant posturing. Goblins in general have a very strict social pecking order. The strongest lead and just because Bog's father was King of the Dark Forest doesn't mean he got the throne by birthright. In the Dark Forest you have to earn the respect of your people. And that means if a goblin wanted to usurp Bog, they could definitely try. It wouldn't end well for them, though.

Oh, somewhat related to the above, but Marianne's sucker punch may have initially ticked him off, because technically that was a challenge. His initial move was going for a big "F-you" with his staff, but you know why he went back a second time? To show off. Because he found it hot.

Protective drive. Goblins are pack creatures and fiercely loyal, and this includes Bog even in a position of leadership. Sure he might smack Thang around because the little moron irritated him, but the moment someone from the outside starts smacking Thang around it's over for them. Bog's little put-put swing on Thang is nothing compared to the heavy golf swing he'll do on the idiot who tries to mess with his goblins. (The mushrooms got the full golf swing but trust, they are fine. Bog knows what will/wont hurt someone.)

Fairy Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Singing/Music Magic. Fairies have magic that can turn any stick, light source, or noise into music while they are in the vicinity. Bog prefers a different kind of music than most fairies seem to enjoy, but he still possesses this magic nonetheless. Goblins do not usually sing, but they'll play instruments or do some back-up vocals for the fun of it.

Heart on the sleeve. This is a weakness Bog actively goes out of his way to suppress, but he really is a romantic deep down, as most Fairies have a tendency to be. Sure-sure he says he hates love, but then has a soft spot for Dawn's boutonniere gift that he can't quite explain. It's the fairy in you, Bog. It's okay.

Blooming Magic. Bog can touch a fern and make it unfurl, same as Marianne can. He can also make sure venus fly traps get the nutrients they need even if he snaps them shut just to walk on them for absolutely no reason other than showing off for Marianne. The magic fairies use to bloom flowers basically is just giving the plant nutrients it needs and speeding up the blooming process.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #20] - Park Jimin... Again

warnings: ohh this one hurts my heart! drinking, drunk hook-up, fingering, oral (m receiving), both parties are fully consenting but the OC is having a bit of a hard time mentally (head vs heart kind thing!), it makes me really sad for her reading it back :( anyways, one of the biggest B birds is tackled!!!! kinda!!! the smut isn't he he smutty smut!! more so mechanical! controversial opinion but one of my fave starluvrs chapters!!

soundtrack: seesaw - bts

wc: 6.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Hey," Jeongguk says quietly as he comes to stand beside you. You're standing behind the front desk at your work, watching on with subtle pride as Tae's event kicks into gear. Chatter pollutes the air, Tae's chosen choice of jazz music softly humming beneath the conversation.

Jeongguk's dressed well. More formal than you've ever seen him. A dark, silky shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, unbuttoned just enough to give you vivid flashbacks of your hand around his throat, nails scratching ever so gently at his skin. His usual silver chain sits prettily in place, but a second necklace hangs a little lower. As always, his hair is tousled in such a way it screams 'i woke up like this' - but you've seen him in the mornings. Know that he will have spent a solid half an hour perfecting the look.

On his feet are his trusty Chuck Taylors. Makes you laugh when you look down and see them next to your sparkly heels. You nudge against his shoes with your own. He does it back. 

If you were to glance in the mirror in the far corner of the room, you'd notice how good you look together. Your dress is tight - a well-structured bodice with a low back and a straight skirt that finishes midway down your thighs - but chiffon billows around your arms. A subtle shimmer runs through the threads of the otherwise black fabric, and Jeongguk thinks it's fitting. Doesn't mention it, though.

Instead, he gently strokes the top of your back where your shoulder blades are far too tense. You're more poised than usual. It's stress, he thinks.

He'd be right in thinking that - but you smile regardless. Won't let anything dampen how well Tae's show is going.

Lights dim, the focus is all on the art pieces. Free champagne (which is really just prosecco but you're hoping no one will notice) is flowing, and appetisers are being eaten. The deli cafe a few floors below had agreed to do the catering, and you're thankful that they agreed to do it for a discount rate. You're barely breaking even with the launch event, but you hope that it will prove to be fruitful for Tae and the other artists in the future.

"Hey," you whisper right back, knocking your shoulder against him tenderly. "You good?"

He nods and hums a pretty little purr of confirmation. "You?"

You do the same back. It's not for a lack of wanting to engage in conversation, it's just that you know your social battery is gonna be worn down to the metal casing by the end of the evening, and so you're preserving your resources. 

Jeongguk is aware of this. He always clocks it whenever you reached social capacity in the club - you'll sway instead of dance, and drunkenly walk away from people, favouring the bar instead of the dancefloor. He knows you've maybe got a solid six hours in you, but anything after that? He's not so sure.

"The place looks great," he tells you - and it really does.

For the launch night, you've optimised space and minimised the number of easels that are out. Furniture has been rearranged to create a natural flow for attendees to walk through, in order for each artist to have their work fully admired. 

Tae's collection is the focal point, of course, but it's done in such a subtle way that most won't notice. The design of it all is smart - helped by Jimin's expertise in interior staging, brought to life by the brawn of Jeongguk and how he's able to move even the heaviest furniture with ease, and finished off with Tae's carefully crafted artwork.

They make for a great team. 

Yoongi's custom-built frames and display units are perfect for the space, and Namjoon is by the entrance greeting critics he knows from other papers. Tae couldn't have surrounded himself with better people.

You think it's deserved. His work is gorgeous. If you had a spare penny, you'd invest in some. Know that he's destined for greatness, and that this is just the start of his professional career. If anything, you feel lucky to be a part of it all, no matter how small. 

But see that's the thing - Taehyung always had these resources around him. Had it not been for you pulling them all together and actually using them, he never would have done. Not to the best of his ability, at least. You're just as important to this as the rest of them are. 

Jeongguk couldn't be prouder - of you, of Tae, of what you've achieved. It's early and the night is young, but things are heading in the right direction. People are filtering in gradually. Half a dozen people have come off the street just to see what's going on.

"I think it's incredible, Byeol," Jeongguk says softly. "All of this... I just. Wow. Amazing."

"Stop," you laugh quietly. "Was a team effort."

He shakes his head. Thinks you're by far the most important piece of the puzzle.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "What's a team without a leader?"

You glance over at him, a little bemused by his appreciation. 

He looks down at you and smiles, lip ring flipping ever so slightly in that way you adore so much. In the dull light behind the desk, a small speck of glitter twinkles on his shoulder.

"Here," you say as you reach over to pick it away, before dusting it off your fingers. "I fear I've cursed you with glitter."

Jeongguk shakes his head. Tells you he doesn't mind. He kind of likes the sparkles. Is still finding tiny reminders of you in his sheets. Makes him smile every time. 

When he was sleeping with Hayun, it would be her lipstick that would stain his skin. His mugs, his sheets, his shirts, too. 

Part of him wonders what permanence Jiyeong will hold. 

Part of him kind of doesn't wanna find out.

But speak of the Devil and he doth appear - or think of Jiyeong, and sure enough, there she is by the entrance, speaking with Hoseok, who is handling entry. 

She's dressed well - a navy blue dress hugs her enviable figure, which you know she's worked damn hard to achieve. Her hair is down, and her make-up is minimal; a natural beauty. Not a speck of glitter in sight.

"Ah, it does appear your princess has arrived, Prince Charming," you tease him with a little more pomp and poise than is needed, just to echo your point. 

"Fuck off," he laughs  - but heads on his way regardless.

You watch on as Jeongguk greets her, a hand in his pocket while the other scratches at the back of his head. He laughs, looks to the floor, then back up at her. When he smiles, his lip ring does the thing . 

You look away. Find Tae in the crowd. Head for him instead.

Your palms feel a little clammy, and your head doesn't feel like it's screwed on properly, but there's no feasible reason to feel such a way. Belated nerves, maybe? It's a big night. Tae has a lot riding on it. Yeah. That must be it.

As you approach, with an extra champagne flute in hand to top him up, he beams at you. 

Smile wide, Taehyung is every bit the schmoozer. He's been talking the ears off a local critic for the past ten minutes, and they've laughed at every joke. 

It probably helps that he's dressed like the boy of everyone's fantasies; ivory shirt and dark slacks, lockets around his neck and dark hair pushed back to frame his portrait-worthy face. In a room full of priceless art, Kim Taehyung could be considered a masterpiece himself.

The thought glitters in your mind, illuminating the fact that you think this could apply to Jeongguk, too. You twist ever so slightly to look at him, but stop yourself. Your nosey tendencies can wait. 

For now, Tae is babbling on about your contribution to the show, and you're far better off focusing on him. He's without an agent, so you're playing the role for now.

You don't really know what it all entails, but you've read a wikihow page and watched a couple of youtube videos. Know enough to get by. It's just to stop investors from thinking they can take advantage of Tae. You're protection, in a way, which is laughable. 

"You've an eye for curation," a critic tells you, after Tae finishes bragging about your dedication to the show - but you shake your head.

"It's all Taehyung's genius," you smile. "He's an artist through and through, and it's his concepts we've brought to life. I'm merely a facilitator of his vision."

It's all so pompous. You hate the bullshit chatter, but know it's needed. So does Tae. You've never seen him so composed. He doesn't even falter when Danbi shows up half an hour later. 

Though he does get a little giggly when she approaches him to gush about how beautiful his work is. He grins - and grins, and grins, and grins - and tells her that it's nothing. She tells him he's remarkable, and her words replay in his head for the rest of the night.

Kind of like how Jeongguk's hand on your back, the intrusive scent of his aftershave, and the thought of his lip ring doing the thing whenever he nibbles down on it, plagues yours. It's bizarre. 

Realistically, you know it's because you're nervous, and have always sought comfort in him. If he were by your side, maybe you'd worry less about Tae impressing the critics. Maybe he'd joke with you about that one rogue piece of art neither of you really like. 

Instead, he stands with Jiyeong, engaged in conversation with the Mins. If you were to be looking in his direction, you'd notice Seoyeon trying to catch your eye. 'Are you okay?' her nuanced gaze would ask, and you'd smile. Nod your head. Assure her that you're grand.

You refuse to let yourself linger. It's not healthy. Jeongguk is your friend. Dependency isn't cute on anyone. 

But Jiyeong looks cute on his arm, and Jeongguk looks cute when he explains different art facts he's learnt from you to her. The recycled knowledge is wasted on a mind like Jiyeong's. Her interests lie elsewhere. It's not her kind of thing - but Jeongguk is her kind of man, so she nods along and is ever so pleasant. 

When Nabi arrives, you're pleased to see her act just as frosty towards Jiyeong as she had towards you.

"Don't mind her," Jimin grins beside you as you watch the interaction with great curiosity. "Nabi is... Well, she's Nabi."

You smile. Jimin looks dashing as ever. Is wearing a thin knitted sweater with a pair of tight jeans hugging his toned legs. Chelsea boots accent his look, and you find yourself smiling at the predictability of him. His style differs from that of his friends, but you find that you quite like it.

His hair is perfectly permed to fall back off his face, showing off his dark eyes and cute little cheeks. He's paradoxical. Sweet and spicy all in one bite.

"She always like this?" You ask, not really caring if Jimin knows you don't feel so fondly towards her.

"Uh-huh," he nods. "She comes across as rude, but honestly I think she's just shy."

"Shy?" You sneer - but catch the unpleasant look on your face and try to soften it. The stress has made you a little snappy, and you don't like it. 

"Shy," he nods again with a laugh. Finds your uncharacteristically sour face rather funny. "She's hot though, so everyone thinks she's being a dick. She'll warm up. She always does - you really think Seoyeon would be friends with her if she didn't?"

He's got a good point. Seoyeon is potentially the sweetest person you've ever met. You can't imagine her being friends with assholes - but then again, even assholes need friends. Seoyeon would always try and see the good in people, if she could. 

"She scares me," you tell him. He hands you his champagne flute. It's half empty, but he thinks you need a drink. He's right.

"You scare her, probably. You're some random girl showing up all buddy-buddy with her oldest friends without warning," he says, trying to put it into perspective. "She gets back from visiting family abroad and BOOM . There's some girl riding shotgun in Jeongguk's car and helping with Tae's career in a way she never could. It's intimidating. She doesn't know her place anymore."

When he says it like that, you cringe. Feel guilty for being such a harsh judge towards her. Sure, Nabi had been rude, but you can't go through life expecting everyone to act in the same way you would. It's differences that make us interesting, after all.

"How long had been gone?" You ask quietly, knowing it's really none of your business.

"Six months," Jimin says. "Her grandparents live in Scotland. It's where she's been. You should ask her, yourself. Might be a good chance to get to know her."

You nod. Fold your arms across your chest. Decide you know far too much about this poor girl's personal life already. Anything else you learn, you would like it to be directly from her.

"Would she like to come out with us?" You offer. "After the show?"

Jimin smiles. "Probably. I'll ask."

When she glances over to you a little while later, Jimin clearly mentioning the invite, you smile. You think she smiles back, but it's hard to tell - though you can clearly see her nod. 

You sigh a shallow breath of relief and are so focused on the interaction that you almost don't notice Jeongguk coming to stand beside you. 

"Clock's not struck midnight yet, Charming," you hum when you smell his aftershave. "Where's your girl?"

He nudges his shoulder against yours and takes your champagne flute from your hand - your fifth of the night and counting - before knocking it all back in one swig. 

"Couldn't stay. She's meeting friends, so we'll probably see her out tonight - if that's okay?"

"Yeah, sure," you say without hesitation. "Of course that's fine. It was really nice of her to come along."

Jeongguk nods. "Yeah. I think she enjoyed it."

You nod, too. It's a little awkward. Neither of you know how to navigate conversations about other people. You're coy; don't wanna ask too much. 

"That's good," you smile. "Fancy another drink?"

"Please."

One drink turns into three, which turns into six. By the time the show has dwindled down to just the usual suspects, and Tae is popping a champagne bottle in celebration of an exhibition gone well, you're ready to hit the clubs. 

Everyone is in good spirits. 

There's not a single face without a smile as you head downtown, not to Dionysus, but to a bar just across the road. The boys are regulars here just as much, but it's a quieter vibe - small rooms that allow for a more private setting. 

They instantly head towards one of the back coves. The room is tiny. Cramped. Dark. Stinks of beer and cigarette smoke. There are black sofas lining the walls, and you dread to think of what horrors they've seen as you sink down into one beside Jeongguk. 

Not much thought is given to your seating arrangement. His legs are stretched out, knees wide apart, one hand over his crotch, the other tucked behind you. Legs pulled up to your chest, your feet are on the sofa, shoes on the floor. One of your arms wraps around your knees, hugging them into you. Your other hand mindlessly rests on his thigh. 

It's dangerously close to his hand. So close that he reaches out with his fingers. They delicately toy with yours. You think very little of it. Just finds comfort in it. So does he. 

No one notices.

You're wedged between Jeongguk and Danbi, who also has an incredibly giddy Taehyung next to her.

Or at least she does, until he hops up to grab beer pong cups from the bar. He returns with everything he needs for the game, but leaves again, only to return with a tray of shots, too.

It's just sourz. Has nothing on purple starfuckers - but it serves a purpose. Is exactly what you need as you stand at one end of the beer pong table. 

Nabi is on the other end, Jimin by her side.

Tae got distracted by Danbi, well, existing. Put the cups down and haven't thought about them since. The game is yours now. 

It's nice seeing Nabi actually smile. Has you supposing that Jimin was right, after all. She cheers when anyone gets shots in, even if it means she has to drink. A good sport. Just wants everyone to have fun. Knows that she sometimes can rub people up the wrong way, so appreciates the fact you made sure she was invited.

She always would have been invited. Taehyung had already mentioned it to her - but the fact that you made Jimin check? She appreciates it. Probably won't tell you so directly, but hopes that you'll see she's trying.

And you do. You're trying, too. It's always weird when someone new enters a dynamic. It's why you're trying to be mindful of Jiyeong, and excuse away Jeongguk for not being totally focused on the evening. 

He's torn between his friends and making sure he replies to her drunk messages quickly enough. It doesn't help that he's also drunk and really can't be fucked with being on his phone in a dark room. It's embarrassing. He's here with friends. Doesn't wanna be glued to a screen.

His phone is facedown by the sofa when he comes to stand behind you, while you gear up for your next shot. You're currently a point up, and only have to get three more cups out.

"Easy does it," Jeongguk husks just loud enough for you to hear. If his voice wasn't enough to distract you, his hand on your hip might just be. It's disguised by the shadows of the dark room, but the sensation burns so brightly you're surprised no one else notices. 

"I am easy," you tell him, not realising how bad that sounds until it's out of your mouth. The glitter on your cheeks catches in the dim fairy lights as you giggle at yourself. 

Jeongguk just smirks. Shakes his head.

"No, you're not."

"Well, what am I then?" you flirt a little. " Hard ?"

Oh God, he's smirking again. 

There's a mirror on the far wall behind Nabi and Jimin. You hate it. 

Hate how you never used to notice mirrors before Jeongguk came into your life, and hate how you noticed every single one of them now. 

Hate how good Jeongguk looks, dark hair waving divinely around his features. His broad shoulders are hidden by his shirt, but he's loosened his buttons to frame his collar bones in silk. Sleeves rolled up, forearms on show, he's a menace. 

The kind of guy your mother warned you about, cosplaying as the boy next door. Trouble. Sin. Temptation. 

And yet he's just so pretty - doe-eyed and dewy-nosed - that he's impossible to resist.

"Maybe," he sings, taking a swig of his drink before holding it to your lips. You let him tilt it. Drink it down. Tastes like shit, but you don't care. Are too enthralled by the flirt. 

"Nah," you laugh softly as you lick the liquor from your lips. "I'm not hard."

Jeongguk's had too much to drink. He knows better than to reply in the way he wants to. Knows he shouldn't grip your waist and pull you back so that your ass is rested against his crotch. 

He knows, he knows, he knows. 

"Funny," he husks. "You might not be, but me? Well..."

And yet his grip does tighten. He closes the gap. Makes your breath hitch.

"Haven't got all day Disco Ball!" Jimin calls over, blissfully unaware of what's going on in the dark.

Jeongguk loosens his grip. Takes a step back. Walks around to the side of the table and slumps down into the sofa beside Namjoon. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see them whispering to each other, but decide to ignore it.

Instead, you line up your shot. Focus. Narrow your eyes and ignore the heckles Jimin is throwing in your direction. Anything to put you off your game. Nabi slaps at his shoulder and tells him to cut it out. 

And so you smile at her. Mouth the words 'thank you' in her direction. 

Jimin just leans on the table. Tells you that he gets a free shot if you take any longer.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jeongguk calls over, just to let you all know he's still invested.

Of course he is. He wants you to win. 

Just didn't wanna take things too far.

"You've got this, B!"

And you do .

The shot is smooth. Sharp. The tiny white ball knocks against the lip of the most distant cup and falls directly into the small pool of beer it's holding. 

Jimin stares at it in disbelief.

"What?" You grin, as Jeongguk cheers you on and Namjoon laughs at Jimin's poor defeated face. "Drink up, Park. Haven't got all day."

The rest of the game continues much like that. Jeongguk sits on the sidelines and lets you take the reins. Doesn't interfere. Just watches on, with a curious sense of pride and something he can't quite place. Just notices that his jaw gets a little tense whenever your start joking around with Jimin.

It's nothing a fresh shot doesn't solve. The liquor eases his jaw. Makes him forget the uncomfortable feeling that comes with watching your glitter sparkle in someone else's eyes.

He brushes the feeling to the side. Ignores it. 

But when you've been gone for ten minutes, and he realises he doesn't know where Jimin is either, he pauses. Doesn't want another shot cause he feels a little sick. 

Decides the bathroom is the best place for him. It's a bog standard toilet - no gender separation of the stalls. Just a door into a room with a sink in it, and another door that leads to the actual toilet. 

"Shit, sorry," Jeongguk mumbles as he opens the door, realising someone's stood by the sink.

"Hey," you chime pleasantly. "It's cool. Come in. No one's in there."

You've just been touching up your makeup. Have no idea where Jimin is. You've not seen him. Assume he's flirting with some random by the bar. Seems like him.

And yet Jeongguk's drunk tongue decides that he'd quite like to just make sure you haven't seen Jimin. It's stupid. He's got no reason to care. Doesn't care. Is just a little too tipsy for his own good.

"If I didn't know any better," Jeongguk says quietly, coming to stand behind you. "I'd say you've been flirting with Jimin."

The bathroom is cramped, graffiti covering the walls. There's no soap and the hand dryer is broken. It's seen better days. Seen a lot of sin. You glance up at him as you wash your hands the best you can. The position is all too familiar. 

Mirrors and Jeongguk? 

Yeah. A view you know well. 

You smirk. Raise your brows. "So what if I have been?"

He shrugs. Looks at your hair, and starts to toy with it. Scoops it together to push it all over a single shoulder. 

He leaves your neck exposed, and bites down on his lips to stop himself from doing things he knows he shouldn't. A tiny waft of your perfume intrudes on his senses. God . He really does fucking like your perfume. 

"Just curious," he says. "That's all."

You think that will be the end of his interrogation. 

Think that Jeongguk is just throwing questions into the void, but that your lack of a clear answer will deter him. 

It does. Only for a moment, though. He's still stroking at your hair. Doesn't look at you. Just your damn hair. 

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asks, "Are you gonna fuck him again?"

You say nothing, just continue washing your hands as you think about what the fuck to say back. You've not been planning on it, but the question sounds a bit like an accusation. Sounds like Jeongguk is probing you. Sounds unlike him. Sounds like he wants a fight.

Shutting the tap off, you rest your palms on the edge of the basin and look at his reflection. You're annoyed to find him still watching his own hands as they stroke through your hair.

"Why?" You question. He's never been one to cast judgement over your choices. Never. You're pissed that it seems like he's doing it now. "Should I fuck him again?"

Jeongguk's the one who falters now. 

Only for a split second, but long enough for you to know he's running hurdles in his brain. 

He doesn't know why he started the conversation, and doesn't know where the fuck he hopes it ends - he just knows he can't seem to stop it.

The dingy light flickers ever so gently, like morse code. Dash, dot... Dash, dash, dash. 

Indifference is feigned well as he shrugs. "If you want."

And you're not sure why, but you ask, "Do you want me to?"

When he looks up and catches your gaze in the aged, desilvered mirror ahead of you both, he's hard to read. 

His stare is hard, but his features are soft. Cheeks a little pink. Lips pretty and pouty like they are always are. 

"Wasn't that the whole point of the birds?" He asks. "We fuck about, get you comfortable with intimacy... you have better sex?"

You scoff. Shake your head as you look down to where your hands grip the porcelain basin. There are water droplets still on your skin. Sort of look like tears, you think.

"Mhmm," you finally say as your eyes dart up again, with a nod and a smile so fake that even the alcohol can't convince Jeongguk it's genuine. "I'm sure Jimin will be thrilled to have your leftovers."

"What?" he asks, a little confused. 

Running your hands through your hair, you disrupt the preening he's been doing and let your hair messily fall into a more natural state. His hands drop from their position by your shoulders. Distance is created. 

"Surely it's easier to start off with someone you already know?" He continues. "And the fuck are you on about? Leftovers? You know I hate it when you say shit like that, Byeol. It's not like that."

In Jeongguk's mind, it's really not that dissimilar to your setting him up with Jiyeong. You had started him off easy. Someone he knows won't reject him. 

Interesting how he's already convinced there'll be a next; that Jiyeong is a start, not an end. 

Longevity isn't something that he sees in her. 

A certain guilt lies within him whenever they're together because of this, but he thinks perhaps he's writing it off too soon. Maybe it's his brain self-sabotaging like it always does.

"So what's different?" you say quietly, and turn to face him. 

In the mirror, the open back of your dress has your spine on full display, and Jeongguk's reminded of how he traced down it in his kitchen; you bent over his counter, threats of fucking Jimin again acting as foreplay. 

He's only got himself to blame. 

"How will fucking Jimin now be any different to the last time?"

Jeongguk shrugs. Starts toying with your hair again. You wish he would stop. 

And yet you don't make him. He's gentle as he tucks the hair over your ear, mindful of your piercings. 

"You know the house layout, now," he smirks, trying to lighten the mood. He really doesn't want to argue with you. "You won't trip up on your way out."

"Shut the fuck up," you smile, not wanting to find humour in his words. "Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to stay the night, now."

He nods. Purses his lips. Looks in your eyes as he whispers, "I'll be so proud of you if you do."

You think he means it. 

So does he.

It's not something he's tried with you. Not a bird that's been completed - but one of the ones that means the most, he thinks.

It's sitting on his desk at home. 

Had fallen after you'd agreed to stop doing the birds for the time being. 

"You would?" You whisper back, and ignore the way his thumb is stroking your hip. Pretend like he isn't so close you can practically taste his drink of choice. 

"I would," he says back so quietly it's barely even a breath. The way he nods his head forces his nose to nudge ever so gently against yours. It's nothing new. Nothing that hasn't been done before. "You've done so well, Byeol. Faced so many fears." 

Haven't kissed you, though, you think - and it takes everything in you not to close the gap.

"It's still scary," you say, a hand on his chest, the other resting on the crook of his neck. 

If anyone were to walk in right now, there'd be a million questions asked  - and yet neither of you questions the familiarity of your embrace. 

Intimacy has been fostered between the pair of you. Exactly what the birds were trying to prevent. You were supposed to face your fears; untie the acts from any romantic feelings.

It's why you tell yourself this is normal. 

It's why you're utterly convinced that this is just a byproduct of the birds, and that it's not actually real. 

"I used to be scared of the dark," he tells you with a shy smile, looking down as he laughs ever so gently. You laugh, too. It's cute. 

He withdraws a little. Lets you go. Rests his back against the far wall and drinks in the sight of you. 

Your lips are blushed. Pouty. Kiss deprived. Glitter shimmers by your eyes and he's so glad of how predictable you always are. Sees stars even on the cloudiest of nights with you. 

Jeongguk just runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. 

"Still don't like it much," he continues. "Spook myself out sometimes. There's a corner of my room that's a little darker than the rest of the place and... yeah. It freaks me out. But you know what?"

"What?" you enthuse, the smile on your lips definitely the result of a few too many drinks. It matches his.

He reaches over to the light switch. Turns it off. Stumbles a little from his lost balance, and regains it by reaching out for you. You steady him - and you're right back where you started, far too close. 

"I'm not scared of it anymore," he whispers. "I don't like it much, and I prefer having a little light to guide me - but I'm not scared ."

"And this is relevant... how?" You giggle, as your hands hold onto the front of his shirt.

It's at this point Jeongguk knows he fucked, for Jeongguk's utterly convinced if he doesn't kiss you, he'll die.

He wants to press his lips down on yours as you giggle. Wants to taste the alcohol on your tongue. Wants to feel your teeth bite down on his bottom lip. Oh, god , he wants it . Wants you . Just once. Just so he knows what it's like.

He knows you kiss. Saw Jimin kiss you that very first night. Sure, you deflected it - but that initial contact? The way your lips looked as they pressed down into someone else's? 

God, he just wants to know. Has to know.

Never been into voyeurism, but the more he thinks about you with someone else, the more he knows he'd gladly watch. 

Perhaps 'gladly' is the wrong word. He'd fuckin' hate it - but he'd take it just to be blessed with a visual of you doing his favourite thing in the world.

But then he feels guilty, again. 

He knows he's not strictly off the market, and that he is still single, but he's always been a one-girl kinda guy. Never fucked around with more than one at any one given time. 

Would feel fucking awful if things with Jiyeong progressed, knowing that he'd gotten far too close for comfort with you in the early days.

He wants you in his life. 

If he fucks around with you now, then it writes off any chance of that when he and Jiyeong become official. 

So he pulls away from you again, and reaches for the light. Can't find it. Gives up. Cracks the door ajar a little. The light that pours in is dusty. Smoke filled. The particles dance in the air; filth in the purity of the one thing that keeps you breathing. His foot holds the door open. He bathes in the dingy lighting of the bar, his features masked by shadows. 

"It's okay that you still don't like intimacy, B," he tells you. "What matters is that you still try. Even without me. Even if it scares you. You just gotta try. Just gotta keep trying."

You reach for the door and pull it further open. Let the light pour in. 

"Gotta keep trying," you nod.  "I should probably-"

"Yeah, yeah, no, of course," Jeongguk nods as you gesture to the door. "Go. Sorry for walking in on you like that."

"It's no bother," you tell him with a small smile. 

And you really do mean it. Jeongguk never bothers you. You're always pleased to have his company around.

You're less pleased to realise how fucking wet you are as you walk back to the group. Been in his proximity for all of five minutes and you're a state . Maybe he's got a point. Maybe you do need to get laid.

When Jeongguk rejoins the group, he doesn't look at you. Picks up his jacket, and mumbles something to Jimin. A laugh is shared, before Jeongguk pats his back and heads towards the door without even glancing in your direction. 

No explanation. 

He's just gone.

"Hey Jimin?" You call over, too drunk to care for playing it cool. "Where'd Gguk go?"

"Jiyeong," he simply says not thinking much of it - and why would he? 

From the corner of the group, Yoongi pays attention to the way your shoulders drop a little bit. He's not stupid. 

Knows which direction the bathroom is in. 

Knows there must have been some overlap. 

Knows you've been off talking with Jeongguk. 

Doesn't think it would be anything more than a conversation, but think it doesn't matter. As always, Yoongi is right.

Jeongguk had sought you out. Had wanted to speak with you privately. You'd returned with a pleasant smile on your face - once of which faded almost instantly once Jiyeong's name was mentioned. 

Yoongi says nothing. It's not his place to interfere - though he does text Seoyeon almost instantly to let her know that there's trouble in paradise. 

She's by the bar with Nabi getting another round. Glances over immediately. Frowns when she notices Jeongguk's absence. Sighs when she sees the look on your face.

"Kids," Yoongi mutters under his breath, shaking his head, before knocking down the rest of his whisky. He actually thinks having his own kids would be less stressful than keeping an eye on you all.

You know you shouldn't, but as you finish off your drink, you start feeling petty. Vindictive . 

Jeongguk's out with Jiyeong doing fuck knows what. Is fuck knows where. You shouldn't be angry, but you're a little too drunk for your own good. Can't help it.

Maybe you will fuck Jimin. 

Maybe you'll fuck him, and realise that sex really is just sex - even the intimate parts of it. Maybe you'll let Jimin make you cum. Maybe you'll let him kiss you. Maybe you'll stay the night, and maybe Jeongguk will have to watch the next morning as you emerge from Jimin's room instead of his.

Maybe he'll have to watch Jimin reap the fruits of his labour, just like you know Jiyeong is reaping the fruits of yours.

But this was always the deal. Always the case. 

It isn't Jeongguk's fault. Isn't Jiyeong's. Isn't yours, either. 

"Hey," Jimin grins, holding out his drink for you to take a sip. You gladly oblige. "Too pretty to be this mopey. Let's dance."

"Jimin," you pout and whine, really not feeling it. It's one thing to consider fucking Jimin, but a whole different thing to actually act on it.

"Don't gimmie that face," he teases. There's a glint in his eye; mischief . You recognise it. Have seen it before. Have leant into it. Have pushed it away. 

You're not sure what you'll do with it tonight. 

When you take Jeongguk out of the equation, you probably wouldn't give it a second thought. You know Jimin. Have fooled around with him before. Know you'll be safe. Know it will satisfy a hunger.

And so you take his hand, and let him drag you to the dancefloor. 

Just like you let his hands wander. Let his teeth become reacquainted with your neck. His lips are soft. Warm. His hands, too. And his voice, when he says "should we just cut to the chase?"

You laugh. Nod. There's no point in playing coy; not when he knows what he wants, and assumes you want it, too. He doesn't get rejected too often. In fact, the last girl who did? Was you.

He doesn't even try to kiss you. Remembers how little you seemed to be into it the last time, completely unaware of the fact you love it. 

At least you won't have to deal with Jeongguk, and how whiney he is about always wanting to ki-

Nope . 

Once you realise you're thinking about him, you stop. 

This? Now?

This is the first test of the birds. Jeongguk helped you. For this very purpose. He shouldn't hinder you. Not now.

Just like you're sure he's not thinking about you while he's with Jiyeong, you tell yourself you can't think about him, either. 

Funny, really. 

Jeongguk's across town embroiled in an argument. Can't stop thinking about you, 'cause Jiyeong's insisting on hashing it out with him as to why she gets such weird vibes from the pair of you both. 

Jimin also gets those vibes, but is a boy, and is stupid. Pays no attention to it.

And why would he? 

Not even half an hour later, you're in his bedroom. 

He's the one reclining onto his elbows, legs spread, knees hooked over the end of his bed as you shake your dress off. 

You think of the birds. Know that nakedness is one of them. The last time you fucked Jimin, you'd been fully clothed. 

This time, you won't be. 

It makes you nervous. He can't tell. Not with the way you hold yourself as you slip out of the fabric and let it crumple on his floor. 

"You hard?" you ask quietly. The lighting is dim, and it's hard to tell beneath his dark jeans. He palms at himself and smirks.

"Getting there. Wanna see?"

You nod. Watch with bated breath as Jimin undoes his trousers. Pushes them down a little. Lets his white briefs show you exactly how hard he is. 

He's definitely firm, but not quite there yet. Needs more than just a half-naked girl. Seen so many of them in his lifetime that he needs something a little more interesting to really get him excited. 

"Play with yourself," you tell him. The positioning - you standing in front of him, in control - has him eager. 

He remembers how difficult you can be all in the name of a good fuck. Knows he's in for a treat - and so does as he's told. Pulls his cock free. Strokes it. Lets his head fall back for a few pumps, then meets your eyes again as he jerks himself off.

You smirk, now. "Cute."

"Cute?" He laughs a little in disbelief, so you just nod. 

There's an air about you. An arrogance. It's the attitude he usually gives women. Quite likes it when it's given back to him. 

"Cute," you nod with a sickly sweet smile, as you get to your knees. Hands on his thighs, you stroke tenderly. His grip on his cock tightens as his hips push up into his hand. 

"Look at you," you continue teasing. "All needy and playing with yourself because you just can't wait to fuck me. It's really cute."

He slows down, as if he wants to defy you, but you just smirk. 

"Did I say stop?"

He laughs. Shakes his head. Continues.

"You just wanna watch?" He asks, a little bemused.

"Mhmm," you hum pleasantly. There's a power trip that comes with watching a man wank over you. It's safe. His problem, not yours.

The proximity of his cock to your face does make it hard to resist. You haven't given head in so long. One of your favourite acts, you've never had issues with it, which is why it was never included in bird-related endeavours - and blessed, fortunate Jimin is gonna be the one to receive your pent-up need for a cock in your mouth.

Not yet, though. You'll let him suffer a little longer, first.

You're quite enjoying it, regardless. Jimin's hands are pretty in a way that Jeongguk's aren't; dainty and petite. Well proportioned, and perfectly kept. What he may lack in length, you know he'll make up for in skill.

Gets you thinking about your birds. Gets you thinking that you need to put them into practice. 

You get to your feet and Jimin just watches. Says nothing. You're not entirely steady on your feet thanks to the alcohol, but it doesn't matter. You're not standing for long. 

Straddling his lap, Jimin nods. Doesn't make a fucking noise. Not even a hum. He's too busy making sure he doesn't wank himself off too well. Would be embarrassing if he came early.

You reach for his hand. Stop him. Guide him to your underwear, instead.

He needs no instruction. Just says, "take your bra off."

And so you do. Another fear set free by Jeongguk. You're doing it. You're really fucking doing it. 

The birds? They fucking work . 

You find the annoyance you had with Jeongguk, and this whole new reality you're both now living in, melting away.

Perhaps it was jealousy, but not of Jiyeong; jealousy of Jeongguk, and the fact that he was actually making developments in his life thanks to the birds. 

Now, you are, too. 

You laugh a little. Jimin thinks you're just giggling because he's pushing your underwear to the side. Must be ticklish or something. 

He's sat up straight, a hand on his cock, the other stroking over your pussy. Wetter than he expects, he knows you're game to fuck, and is pleased. Had no doubt you would be, but it's always a nice ego boost. Alcohol can fuck with things, making it a little more challenging.

Sure, Jeongguk might have gotten you wet earlier, but it's Jimin who's gotten you this far. 

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. 

Jimin , who sinks a finger into you. Jimin , who reads your body as you gasp and adjust to his touch. Jimin , who latches his plump lips around your nipple as he begins to fuck his finger into you.

"Shit," you husk a little breathlessly, which earns a hum of satisfaction from Jimin. His lips are still wrapped around your nipple, sucking tenderly. 

He stops only briefly to tease you. "See how much nicer it is when you just do what I tell you to do?"

You laugh, but quickly find yourself moaning again when he pushes a second finger into you. One of your hands is on his shoulder, but the other drops to his wrist and stops him from playing with himself. 

"You wanna try?" He flirts. "Wanna see how hard I am for you, huh?"

You nod. "Please."

He guides your hand to his cock. Tilts his head back as you wrap your fingers around his shaft. 

"Shit."

His throat looks gorgeous in this light; thick and tense as he swallows. The sensation of your hand is nothing compared to your pussy, but fuck. He likes it. Likes it so much. 

"Faster."

You oblige. Wank him off so well he falters for a second or so, torso tense, finger buried in your pussy. He snaps out of it, and adjusts himself. Grips your waist. Fucks his fingers into you so fast there's absolutely zero chance of you staying quiet.

Your breathing gets deeper. So do his fingers. The sound, the feel, it's fucking euphoric - but it scares you. Scares you so much.

Just gotta keep trying.

Jeongguk's words echo in your mind. The only way to get over a fear is to confront it. You know this. You've proven it to yourself before. There's no need to be scared.

Your breathing gets heavier. Jimin mistakes it for pleasure. Doesn't realise you're panicking.

"Wait, wait," you say a little breathlessly.

"You alright?" He asks, stopping as soon as you say so, but not really thinking much of it. Assumes you were too close. Figures you wanna make it last - which would be fine by him. 

You nod. Swallow back a harsh breath. 

"Yeah, yeah," you say as you pull away from him, and get to the floor between his legs. Again, there's no opposition from Jimin. You're both probably a little too drunk to be making sensible choices, and in the morning, it'll be a miracle if you even remember. 

For the time being, all you can focus on is making sure he doesn't know you were on the edge of a freakout. The last thing you want is to have to explain yourself - and how can you do that with a cock in your mouth?

You stroke him gently in your palm, admiring his cock. It's just as pretty as he is. Slightly curved, and a little more flushed in colour than you thought it would be. Half a dozen small, dark veins run up the underside of his shaft. 

Makes you think of Jeongguk, and the single, thick vein that runs up his. Curious how different they are. Jimin is smaller than Jeongguk, granted, but you don't really mind. Will be far easier to take in your mouth.

And as you pepper kisses up his cock, you know that it's exactly what you want to do. He grunts when your tongue licks against it. Pushes his hips up. Edges his trousers off. 

You follow the instructions of his body language and get them around his ankles, before adjusting your position. 

Tongue flat against him, you lick a stripe up his cock, and swirl around his dark head. He curses. Lets his back fall to his mattress. Lifts his hips. Wants more. 

You kitten lick around his tip, just to him get a little moany, then press wet kisses against him. Ignoring his pleas for more, you take it at your own pace. Wank him off as your tongue gets acquainted with his balls. 

Jimin makes sure to let you know just how much likes that. Is so moany.

His hands tangle in your hair. He's gentle but a little rough when he needs to be. Pulls you a little further up. 

"Suck it."

Teasing a little more, you smirk. Spit. The way he moans is unholy. 

"Shit."

You're void of thoughts as you wrap your lips around his shaft, taking his length inside your mouth. Your tongue is wet, mouth hot, just how he likes it. He sounds like heaven, and yet you refuse to listen. Don't want anything intruding. Don't wanna hear him say your name, and get a complex over the fact Jeongguk never calls you by name.

Don't wanna think about the fact you can't say 'chess'. Don't wanna think about how soft Jeongguk is with you. Don't wanna think about him, or his eyes, or the forbidden kisses he presses against your skin. 

"That's it. Yeah," Jimin sighs into rhythm you're setting. "That's it. Oh shit, yeah."

Too caught up in an internal battle of the mind, you hadn't noticed your pace increase. Depth, too. He's hitting the back of your throat. Making your eyes water. Creating the lewdest sounds - and he fucking loves it. Wet, sloppy? Ugh . For a man as pristine as Jimin is, he sure loves it filthy. 

"Shit. Take my cock so well, don't you? God. Mouth is just as good as your pussy. Yeah, like that. Like that. Oh, fuck."

Jimin's body writhes on top of his sheets, face contorted from the sheer pleasure of your mouth around his cock. Doesn't give a fuck about sex. Wants his cum down your throat. His hands bunch in your hair, as his hips pick up a little momentum. The noises you're making double. Treble. So do his. 

"Gonna cum," he rasps. Hisses as he leans his head into his shoulder and bites down on his own skin just to soften his moans. Doesn't help. "Gonna fuckin' cum."

He curses. Whines. Writhes. Stalls his hips, but keeps your head pressed down right to the base of his cock as he begins to shudder beneath you. His balls are tight as they release, his cock already at the back of your throat as he pours his cum down it. The spurts are short, sharp. Hot. Sordid. 

And once they're done? He laughs like a fucking angel. Makes you smile. Feels like a job well done. 

"Shit," he murmurs. 

Eyes closed, he stays in the exact same position as his chest heaves, a small trail of evidence leaking onto his abdomen.  He's breathless as he tries to speak. 

"Sorry. That was... Just... gimmie a minute. Shit. You good?"

"Good," you nod, sitting back on your heels. 

You know Jimin. Have been here before. You know this is where the night ends. Know that he'll be out cold within five minutes. 

"C'mon," you tap his knee. "Bed. Don't wanna fall asleep like this."

He nods. "Yeah, yeah. Just... a minute."

"No," you laugh, moving his ankles to take his trousers off fully, before getting to your feet. "Get into bed, you mess."

"Already in bed," he says, still grinning from his orgasm. 

"You know what I mean."

"You gonna join? I'll make it up to you in the morning."

You don't reply. Just head to the kitchen to get him some water. Glance at the door to see if Jeongguk's shoes are there, but there's no evidence of his Chuck Taylors. You purse your lips and nod. Sigh so deeply it feels like you've not taken a breath for days.

The clock on the oven reads 04:32. It doesn't take a genius to work out where he is.

He's where he should be , your mind berates you. Wouldn't be there had it not been for you.

And so when you return to Jimin's room, pleased to find him tucked up into bed now, you crawl in beside him. 

Sure, you failed at one thing already tonight, but sharing a bed is something you never do. You never stay the night. You never wake up with the people you fuck about with. It's too intimate. 

The prospect of Jimin actually making it up to you in the morning? It terrifies you.

Just gotta keep trying.

You can never succeed if you don't.

"Welcome," Jimin mumbles, ready to say goodbye to the world for a few hours. 

He reaches out to check the distance between you both. You're a little further than he'd like, but isn't gonna pull you closer. Is too tired. He enjoys that you're still wearing just your underwear. Will make it easier in the morning for a lazy hangover fuck.

"Thanks for having me," you whisper back in good humour.

Yet when Jimin does drift off, all you can do is lie on your back and stare at the ceiling, hands flat against your stomach. There's no clock in his room, so all you hear is silence. It's maddening. The darkness consumes you. Reminds you of Jeongguk. His childhood fear. Makes you all the more aware of your own fears.

You can feel your chest begin to heave again. Jimin doesn't stir. If you just pretend like you're fine, you'll be fine. Just pretend. Just keep trying. Ignore the warmth of his body, and your eyes as tears begin to prick at them. Ignore, dismiss, forget. You don't have to let this fear get the better of you.

But the pressure is too heavy and you can feel the weight of it imploding on your chest. His duvet feels like an iron blanket, and you need to get out before it suffocates you entirely. 

Slow as you do so, in a bid not to wake him, you slip out from his bed. 

Jimin wouldn't have stirred either way. He's always out like a light after nights out. 

The fear manifests in so many different ways, though. Feels like you're scared of everything . Of leaving, of getting caught, of having to answer for yourself. 

You know, deep down, in your heart of hearts, that Jimin could not care less if you leave or stay. You know there are no consequences to this. You know this.

And still, you're silent as you tiptoe around his bed, and slip back into your dress. You don't worry about your bra - will just tuck it into your coat pocket. You know it's hooked over the arm of the sofa, so you waste no time. 

Just need to get out. Need to get away. Get away from the guilt that you feel, and from the residual ache in your chest. It's been there all evening. You think if you get fresh air, get out of the apartment, that it will ease. 

But as you're sneaking out of Jimin's room, feet bare, bra in hand, Jeongguk is sneaking back home. 

He's quiet as a mouse, but your eyes are on the door the second he clicks it open. You say nothing. Think that maybe he'll go straight into his room without glancing into the living area - but he's fucking parched and needs water before he can even think about sleeping. Half thinks he might hop straight into the shower. 

Stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. The only light in the room is coming from the hob light left on in the kitchen. Your glitter catches in it. So do your tears.

"Hey," he whispers so quietly it sort of croaks out of his throat. 

There's an air of caution about him, fearful of coming too close. The look on your face... he knows it. Doesn't like it. Doesn't know what the fuck to do. Just knows that as you start to sob, he sees red.

"Hey, hey, hey," he coos as he tosses his phone and wallet on the sofa and rushes towards you. Put his palms on the sides of your arms and bows his neck to look you in the eye. His face is warped with concern as you struggle to get your breathing straight. 

"What's up? Hey?" he coos again, stroking up your arms. The chiffon of your dress bunches beneath his hands, and he detests it. Feels like it's grating off a layer of his skin. Funny. He'd liked it earlier. Hates it now. Wishes your skin was bare. "B?"

You just shake your head. Can't form words. Are so disappointed in yourself. So furious that you just can't just be fucking normal. All you can do is try and sniff back your tears, but it's redundant.

"What is it?" Jeongguk looks at you with crazed eyes, dark and foreboding, desperate to see inside your mind. He's only seen you like this once - after Seokjin had fucked you over the last time - and so his mind jumps. He stands up straighter. Looks over your shoulder to the room you've just left. "Where is he? What the fuck did he do?!"

The rage that swells inside Jeongguks chest is lethal. He has to loosen his grip on you because he can't stop himself from balling his fists up.

"No, no, no!" You panic, grabbing onto him before he can lunge for Jimin's room. He almost shakes you off. Almost doesn't wanna listen. Almost lets the fury get the better of him - but then your voice shakes and he knows that he needs to pay attention to you. "Gguk, no. Please. Wasn't him. Was me ."

He doesn't understand what the fuck is going on. Is still drunk. Swallows back his rage, and looks down at you. Tilts your head up with his forefinger. Gets a read on your eyes. 

You're covered in glitter, even despite your wet cheeks. You look so fucking sad, yet painfully beautiful. Jeongguk can't understand what the fuck is going on with his head. 

He knows he's pissed off. 

Knows that if Jimin came out of his room he'd probably smack him regardless of whatever's happened. 

Knows he's drunk, so knows he'd regret it in the morning. 

Knows he hates how fucking upset you look. 

Knows he hates how much he wants to kiss you, still. 

Knows that it's the last thing he can do. Hates that, too.

"The fuck happened, B?" He whispers, and lets his thumb wipe at your cheek. Doesn't care that he'll end up covered in glitter. "Hey?"

You just shake your head. Sob again because it's all so pathetic. 

"I can't do it. I thought that I could, and I tried, and I thought it would be fine but I just-" you laugh pitifully. Shrug. Sob harder when Jeongguk pulls you into his chest for a hug.

His shirt muffles the short, sharp breaths you take for air, his strong arms tight around your shoulders.

"This shit isn't linear, B," he whispers, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head. "This shit's complicated. We're not gonna get it right every time."

He says all the right things, and it just makes it even worse. He is getting it right. He is facing his fears in a way that feels linear. Feels like he's doing okay, while you're stuck in this state of limbo.

"C'mon," he says, pulling away from you and reaching over for your coat from the sofa. Holds out his hand. Waits for you to take it. When you do, he holds it just as tightly as he had hugged you. Leads you out of the sitting area, and towards his room.

And you just go. No hesitation. 

The truth of the matter is that you would follow Jeongguk into darkness - even if he was scared. You trust him. Trust that you're safe with him. 

There's nothing you can say, nothing you can do that will make him run for the hills. See, Jeongguk cares in a way that doesn't feel entirely normal. Would bend over backwards for you even if it broke his back. 

You'd never ask him to, but you'd never need to. He'd just simply do it.

He's never discussed it with anyone. Never explained the way he feels so inclined to keep you sparkling. Just does it as if it's his life's quest. Thinks that maybe he was an astronomer in a past life or something.

But he's drunk, and these thoughts are all frivolous. He won't remember any of them in the morning. 

As you enter the room, you immediately notice a bird on his bed. Jeongguk drops your hand. Picks it up. Doesn't look at it, not even to assess who it belongs to. Just tosses it to a small pile on his desk. 

There are three of them, now. All unchecked, because he's supposed to be being 'good'. 

He took things too far in the bathroom of the club earlier. Was too flirty. Felt guilty. It's why he left so abruptly - but was met with an argument almost as soon as he made it to the club Jiyeong was in. Had to defend your friendship, and felt like a piece of shit doing so. 

Felt shitty for the way he'd been with you; felt shitty for both of the girls he wronged in the process; felt shitty for the attack on his character. 

Yeah, he knew he fucked up - but Jiyeong didn't know that. After a few drinks, she decided that she wanted to fight and apparently he was the easiest target. Lucky for her, she found his weak spot pretty early on: you . 

Jeongguk doesn't say anything. Doesn't know what to say. Pulls a shirt from the clothes rail, and tosses it on his bed. 

"Here. Get changed. I'm just gonna grab some water. Want some?"

You shake your head. Tell him it's fine. 

He brings a pint glass regardless. Knows you'll need some. 

You're stood by his window, watching the early morning traffic make its way through town. It's still dark outside, and it's quiet, so there's not much to look at - but in all honesty, you're trying to avoid looking at Jeongguk. Don't wanna leave, but know you really shouldn't stay, either. 

Lungs still stuttering a little in your chest, you dab at your cheeks with the back of your hand. Feel quite embarrassed about it all. 

His shirt fits you like a dress, and your actual dress is folded over his desk chair. You've stolen the hairband of yours that had been left on his bedside table a few weeks ago and have put your hair up into a bun. Loose strands wisp around your neck, and it just reminds him of the bathroom, and how close he was to just fucking everything up. 

"Hey," he says softly, and waits for you to turn and face him before he continues. 

Your mascara is all smudged, and your cheeks are rosy, but the small smile you present him is sweet. Fake as fuck, and he knows it, but he appreciates you're trying not to look sad. Still doesn't know what went wrong, but he's not gonna force it out of you. 

"Bathroom. Teeth, then bed. Okay?"

You nod. 

Assume he means alone, but say nothing as he follows you to the bathroom. Rummages in the cupboard for the packet of spare toothbrushes, and is silent as he passes you the toothpaste. 

It's curious how at ease you both seem to be as you brush your teeth together, avoiding eye contact in the mirror ahead of you. 

He finishes first, but it's only because you get in this weird competition mode whenever you brush your teeth around other people. Never wanna be the first to wash it all away. 

Jeongguk doesn't care. He's drunk, and he wants to fuckin' sleep. Still, he waits for you by the door of the bathroom. Turns the light off, and rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the apartment. 

You set about throwing a couple of pillows off his bed and onto the floor - but he just follows their trajectory and picks them up. Tosses them back on his bed. 

"Not yet. In," he nods to his bed. "You're gonna talk to me first. Then you can make your little nest, okay? Gotta talk first."

You don't understand why. Figure you can talk from your blanket haven on his floor - but he wants quiet. Doesn't wanna have strain his fuckin' ears trying to hear you. God, his mood is foul . 

And yet he's so gentle. So soft in how he directs you. Calm, and comforting in the way he gets into his bed beside you. Doesn't give a shit about what you may or may not have done across the hallway in Jimin's room as he pulls you in for a hug. Couldn't care less. 

All he cares about is the fact that you were in fucking tears when he arrived home. His pride? Nothing compared to how protective he feels over you. 

"There's nothing really to talk about," you say before he can get any questions in. His nose nestles into your hair. You tighten your grip around his slim waist. He's warm to the touch, and it soothes the chill notion of failure that resides in your heart.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Just had too much to drink," you deflect. It's not entirely a lie. Not entirely the truth either, but that's neither here nor there.

"I've seen you drunk more times than I can remember," he whispers. "You're not a crier. Not really."

Not like Jiyeong is. God. So many tears. So many tears over fucking nothing. 

Perhaps it's shitty of him to think so. Perhaps it's shitty of him to view your tears as more worthy than hers. 

"Was the rum," you whisper with a little humour. "Never normally drink rum."

"Bullshit, Byeol," he says. Hugs you even tighter. "What are we gonna do with you, huh?"

You shrug. Laugh. Hold back a sob.

"Hey," he coos. "C'mon. You don't need to cry. It's okay."

"I don't even know why I am," you half laugh but it's cut off but your throat choking on yet another sob. It's fucking mortifying by this point. 

"I just," you sniff. "Just don't think I'm ready, yet. No one's fault."

Jeongguk says nothing. Holds his tongue. The anger he felt earlier returns, but it's directed at no one but himself. He's the one who told you to hook up with Jimin. He's the one who said you'd be fine. It's his fault.

If you knew he thought this, you'd be just as annoyed as he is.

You're a big girl. You make your own decisions. You make your own mistakes.

"I shouldn't have pushed you," he whispers. You can hear the thud, thud, thud of his heart in his chest. It's soft. The scent of his aftershave acts like a sleep remedy. May as well be lavender. Has you forgetting your woes.

"You were trying to be a good friend," you shake your head against his chest. The movement lets his nose nestle even further into your hair. 

"I should have stayed."

Again, you protest. "You've got a life to live, Koo. Can't always be checking up on me."

You pause. Think he's about to respond, so get a final word in. "You should have said goodbye, though. That was rude."

"I know it was," he admits. It had been deliberate. Hates that he left, now. Maybe if he had stayed, you wouldn't have ended your night in tears. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't say sorry," you mumble quietly. 

"But I am."

"But you needn't be."

"Doesn't matter. Still am."

"Gguk," you sigh, and push yourself against his chest so you can look at him. He just shakes his head. Pulls you back in.

"It's late, B," he murmurs drowzily. Really does not have the energy to bicker with you. The sun's gonna rise soon. "Let's forget it, okay? Talk about it in the morning."

And so you just nod. Tell him okay. Indulge in the feeling of safety that Jeongguk offers you in the refuge of his arms for a little while longer. Just for a second or so. 

Somewhere between the crying and the comfort found in your friend, your brain gets things a little muddled. Tells you that it'll be okay if you close your eyes for a moment. Not for long. Just long enough to feel better. 

Thing is, you've both had too much to drink. Are both tired. Are both perfectly content as your legs curl up, and your feet rest against his thighs. Pay it no mind when his legs part for yours to tangle with his. 

In fact, you both pretend to be asleep so that you don't have to address the fact that Jeongguk's got a fucking semi again. Just can't bloody help himself.

Except it only takes just a matter of minutes for make-believe to turn into reality. 

Jeongguk sleeps. 

So do you. 

It's easy. Not a single tear. Your heart rate is perfectly normal. In fact, it stays at a calm level through the night, as if you've been lulled into sleep by you're very own metronome. 

In a way, you have been - it's just the beating of Jeongguk's heart, and the warmth of his body that have you pacified. 

On his desk lies a slipshod bird with your handwriting scrawled inside it. As the sun rises, it watches on. Is pleased. The words inscribed in its wings are rendered useless, for you're already doing it. 

You're sharing a bed. Sure maybe it's not as conventional or straight forward as it should be, but since when have any of the birds been entirely normal? 

It's apt. Just right. As it should be.

You wake first. 

Stare at the birds. 

Try not to think too hard about, well, anything from the night before.

When Jeongguk wakes, he does the exact same thing. Is pleased you haven't left. 

You can do it.

No words are spoken. No small talk exchanged. No admittance of failure from either of you. No cheer of success. Just the heavy silence of confusion. 

He'll chalk it up to the comedown of an adrenaline rush. Had spent a good couple of hours fighting with a girl who he barely fucking knows, trying to reassure her that you're nothing to worry about.

As he realises he's holding your hand beneath the duvet, he becomes aware that maybe he'd been lying the entire time. 

Not intentionally. God, it's all so fucked.

Jeongguk doesn't want to be a liar.

But he also doesn't want to stop holding your hand.

"I should go," you tell him, and he knows you're right. Knows if Jimin has woken up to find no trace of you, but your shoes by the sofa, you're both fucked. Have no idea how he'd explain it away. 

His chest tightens. Face contorts. Thinking about Jimin makes him feel hot beneath his skin. Irate. 

This is not fucking normal. 

"Let me check the coast is clear, first," he says, slipping out of the duvet and into the cold, harsh reality of day. 

Jeongguk's always enjoyed how much a cocoon his room becomes with you in it; a sanctuary, in a way. Somewhere to seek refuge. 

Feels claustrophobic, now. You both have a vague awareness of how uncomfortable it's become. 

"Out like a light," Jeongguk says as he returns. You're back in your party dress, his shirt hung up again on his clothing rail. "I can call a cab-"

"No," you shake your head. "It's cool. I need to be off."

The goodbye is awkward. Neither of you know what the fuck to do. You take the stairs, because the elevator will make you feel queasy, and order your own taxi instead. Just wanna be out of Jeongguk's hair. Out of their apartment block. 

"The fuck are you doing?" Jeongguk hisses at himself in the mirror. Rubs his hand over his face, and pushes it back into his hair. Shakes his head. Softly taps the wall with a closed fist. "This is not who you fuckin' are. Shit ."

All he knows is that you're gone, and he hates it even more than he hates knowing he wrecked everything the night before. 

Jiyeong's fucking mental after a few drinks, he thinks, which doesn't bode well for the future of their relationship. He knows it dead in the water. Was fucked the second she started saying shit about you that he was never gonna let fly. Was doubly fucked when he arrived home and found you in a sorry fuckin' state, and decided that you meant more to him than she did.

Of course you do, though. You're friends . 

Friends who fall asleep with their legs tangled together, and wake up holding hands. 

He's had a friend like that before. 

Ended in tears, granted, but he still considers her his best friend.

Know he can't let it happen again .

Yet he finds himself pulling a pair of shoes over his heels and ignoring a sleepy Jimin wandering into the sitting room, as he charges out of the apartment door. Presses the elevator button, but doesn't wanna wait for it. 

It's on the ground floor, according the the small screen above it. He assumes you've just reached it. So, instead, he hurtles down the stairs. Runs so fucking fast he's practically flying and is in the lobby within a matter of minutes.

Just in time to watch you get in a taxi, and head back home.

"Fuck," he shouts, now as the cab disappears around the corner. Lets his head hang back, crown resting between his shoulder blades. 

" Fuck." 

He regains his posture, and kicks out at the decorative pillar, before crouching to floor. What a sorry state he's in. Doesn't even know why. Didn't have a plan for what he'd say if he caught up with you. Has no idea why he was so hellbent on keeping you close. 

"Fuck!"

The elevator dings. Jeongguk stands. Looks over towards it. There's no one in there - but there is a box of recycling that he recognises from his apartment, that Jimin must have put there in the hopes that Jeongguk would take it to the trash pile by the entryway. 

He sighs. Shakes his head. Grabs the recycling, and puts it in the designated area - then sulks all the way up to his floor. 

When he returns, Jimin's eating a bowl of dry cornflakes. "The fuck was that about?"

Jeongguk says nothing. Slams his bedroom door shut. Faceplants his bed. Smells your perfume. Yells into his duvet.

This is not good. 

In fact, this is very very bad. 

Catastrophic, some would say. 

It's the product of his own bad decisions, and that's what pisses him off the most. 

What pisses him off even more?

The teeny tiny origami bird that decides now is the perfect time to fall. It lands on his head and bounces down to curve of his spine. Resides there happily. Really fuckin' pisses Jeongguk off.

"Oh, get fucked," he whines into his sheets. Reaches around for it. Opens it up. Reads it. Scowls. ' Admit your feelings'.   He screws it up. Chucks it across his bedroom floor. Feels bad immediately. It's one of his, which lessens the guilt, but doesn't alleviate it entirely. 

"So," Jimin comes to stand by Jeongguk's door as he crunches down on his cornflakes. "The fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing," Jeongguk huffs into his duvet. 

"Alright," Jimin smirks. 

He's known Jeongguk long enough to know behaviours like this are never normal. He's composed to a fault at all times, even when he's annoyed. 

This? Yeah, this is giving Hayun-induced-meltdown-era energy. 

There's one significant change, though. One that Jimin finds all rather amusing. 

"Let me rephrase," he taunts his friend. Fucking idiot. It's so obvious, now. Jimin's amazed he didn't realise sooner. "What's Disco Ball's bra doing over the back of your chair?"

Jeongguk's blood runs cold. 

"Fuck."

[inkykeiji]

idk why but dried fruit with Touya-nii's natsuo sounds like it could be rlly cute!! if it hasn't been claimed yet i'd love to see that

prompt: dried fruit series: touya-nii warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, stepcest, toxic relationships, implied drug addiction, facefucking, natsuo being scummy just like his older brother taught him to words: 1k

waaah sorry this wasn’t really cute anon >.< but i hope you enjoy anyway!

“These aren’t the same as gummies,” you mumble out through a pout, taking a particularly vicious bite out of a dried apricot, fruit sticky and stringy. 

“No, but they’re better for you.”

“Not better for your teeth.”

“If you want to get technical,” Natsuo begins, fixing you with a look. “They are, even if it’s only marginally.”

With a sigh, you glance down at the coffee table, chucking your half-finished apricot on the wood with a dense splat. “They’re yucky, and I don’t like them.”

“You don’t have to eat them,” Natsuo reminds you, voice hardening. “They’re merely meant to be a substitute for your apparent gummy candy addiction.”

“How come you and Touya-nii get to have vices, and I don’t?” 

It’s brave, bold, a grumbled out statement that sounds as crumpled as your forehead looks, that slips unconsciously from your lips, your eyes widening a little as the last bit leaves your tongue. 

Natsuo’s surprised, too, abundantly evident in the widened eyes mirroring yours and the soft rush of air that leaves his mouth. 

Muscles stiffening, you brace for the impact, for the bellowing and the berating you’re sure is to follow after such a rude remark, expression teetering on a wince, anticipating the blow. 

But then the shock fades from Natsuo’s face, a peculiar type of amusement eating through it, and he laughs, loud and deep, enough to send gentle tremors through the hardwood floor. 

“You’ve got a bit of spitfire in you today!” he hollers, smile so wide you can see the dried fruit welded to his molars, muted colours filling the dips and dimples. “Oh, if niisan could have heard you say that...”

And although it’s sighed out in amusement, the sentence makes your heart plummet, ice curling around your organs, slow and steady, and you shiver, skin rippling from the impact. 

“Please don’t tell Touya-nii I said that,” you nearly whimper out, an automatic plead, desperate and wavering with the threat of tears. 

Your statement seemingly sobers him, eradicating all remnants of amusement from his face. He regards you carefully, a hint of suspicion tainting his features; narrowing his eyes, screwing up a corner of his mouth. “Why shouldn’t I?” 

It’s in these moments that you see a flash of Touya, a residual film of Touya’s impact, glimmering in gunmetal eyes.

“He deserves to know when you’re being a brat, doesn’t he? How else is he supposed to correct your behaviour otherwise?”

It’s difficult to tell if Natsuo’s actually serious, facial features expertly schooled into a mask of passivity, a talent passed down and perfected from his big brother. 

“I—I didn’t mean it, I swear! I was jealous; it was just a stupid thing that came out of my mouth!”

“And that somehow justifies your bratty behaviour? Irregardless of the reason why you said it, you still said it. That’s the important part here.” 

“I—No, of course not,” your head is shaking, hard and fast, tears rapidly collecting in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—I shouldn’t have said that. Please—”

“Apologies don’t teach lessons, sweetheart.” 

His arms cross over his chest, muscles bulging against the hem of his short sleeves, and he raises a brow in question. The corner of his lips twitches, threatening to grow into a lopsided smirk, but his eyes are sharp, gleaming with shards of inquisition.

“Please, Natsuo, I’ll do anything,” you whimper, the words trembling and airy, beseeching gaze darting around his face. The thought of disappointing Touya, of upsetting him, is more than you can possibly bear, a deep, heavy ache taking root in your chest, sinking through flesh and blood to settle at your core. “Just don’t tell Touya.”

Anything turns out to be taking his intimidatingly impressive cock down your pretty little throat.

It’s fucking massive; so thick you can barely fit a fist around it and ivied with gorging veins that twine around the shaft, throbbing in time with each surge of blood rushing southward. It’s already leaking, so much that pre-cum has rolled down the head to collect in his foreskin, milky and pearlescent; so much that it paints the back of your throat in one bitter stroke of translucent ivory as he shoves himself into your waiting mouth. 

It’s over surprisingly quickly; Touya-nii likes to fuck your throat, too, rougher and faster than Natsuo did, and usually can’t cum until he’s made a thorough mess of your face—eyes so overflowing with tears that your lashes are soaked, clumped into spikes with teardrops teetering at the points; salt and sweat streaking your cheeks, all shiny and crusty and dry and tight; spit and pre-cum steadily oozing from the corners of your lips, dribbling down slow and viscous to glaze your chin and drip off your jaw. 

But Natsuo doesn’t seem to need any of that, filling your mouth with thick, hot cum the moment after a singular tear breaks free from your wet lashes, streaming down your cheek and leaving the prettiest glittering trail in its wake. 

As it turns out, none of this even matters, Touya arriving home from his workday with a knowing grin on his face, eyes alight with the thrill of it all.

He doesn’t even need to say anything.

You can read his facial expressions almost as well as he can read yours, now.

“Natsuo!” you cry, gaze flying to his face. “You said you wouldn’t tell!” 

The words quiver with your bottom lip, too stringy and whiny than you intended. 

“Aw, don’t act so upset,” Natsuo waves you off with a hand, though mirth shines on his face, chiseled into his smile, swimming in his eyes. “You know the guilt would’ve eaten away at you anyway, and you would’ve ended up telling him on your own. I just sped up the process.”

The betrayal stings, cheeks prickling with fire as if he had physically backhanded you, but you should’ve known better; how could you have been so stupid, so naive, to believe that he’d actually keep a secret for you, that he’d actually ever go against his big brother, your big brother, for you?

Because Natsuo preens beneath his big brother’s praise, straightens his spine and puffs out his chest when Touya claps an approving hand on his shoulder, clamping down and digging into plush muscle. Because Natsuo smiles so brightly, so widely it must hurt his face, lips stretching and cheeks bunching up, when Touya tells him he did a good job. 

And, really, how could you ever compete with that?

[aiwokure]

god hear my plea

Nico Robin x F!Reader

Desc: Robin’s history of abandoning people rears its ugly head full with vengeance.

WC: 5.6k

CW: descriptions of violence, hints of toxic relationships, reader commits murder, mentions of injuries, mentions of death, young Robin is slightly bratty, reader wears makeup, slight suggestive content if you squint, possibly ooc Robin - it is acknowledged though

banner by @/cafekitsune

“Wow! Look at that island, it’s covered in gold! Cool!” Luffy is leaning against the railing of Sunny, eyes sparkling with the urge to explore. Nami hums in acknowledgment, “This island is Goldenleaf, there’s not much known about it though…” Her eyebrows furrow slightly, based off of the weather it seemed to be an autumn island, a little humid but otherwise perfect. As the ship neared the bustle of life could be heard, citizens unbothered by the newcomers.

Robin peers up from her book at the familiar name, Goldenleaf. “There’s a resort towards the center of the island with amazing commodities. They should also be having a festival currently.” The ginger nearly squeals with delight at the thought of relaxing at a resort. Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy were more intrigued about the festival than anything. Sanji raises his visible brow, taking away Robin’s empty cup before asking, “Did you read about that in one of your books?”

A small smile graces Robin’s lips, but it was tinged with melancholy. “I visited this island once before, a long time ago. It’s fairly safe and the residents are kind.” Her blue eyes began to grow distant, lost in thought - well memories.

As soon as the boat was docked, Luffy and co. (Chopper, Usopp, Brook) take off to partake in festivities and adventure. Nami gives Zoro his allowance, feeling kind after realizing that she would be able to finally relax without having to deal with idiots. Her and Robin walk through the city, Sanji trailing behind to be their bag boy. “Everything here is so beautiful, the food smells lovely too.” The ginger is practically drooling causing Robin to chuckle. “That scent is the Autumn Fruit Tarts if I’m not mistaken, they’re delicious when paired with cinnamon vanilla ice cream.”

Sanji perks up, feeling inspired to make the pastry when they return to Sunny. “Do you know of any other -“ The chef immediately stops speaking, blood threatening to spill from his nose. A goddess, she has to be! (e/c) hues gazed at the passing group, icy and unkind, but Sanji didn’t care, blinded by his rose tinted glasses. The woman walks away, disappearing into the crowd before the blond could follow her in his love tornado.

“Earth to Sanji? Hellooo?” Nami is visibly annoyed by his antics, just barely resisting the urge to concuss him with her staff. “A-Ah yes Nami-chwan?!” “I said we’re going to the hot springs so stop following us, although you were practically about to do that anyways.” Robin is quiet, deep in thought once more. That smell was so familiar… I wonder from where. The archaeologist is well traveled, so naturally while some things may jog her memory, they’re usually overtaken by the new (and admittedly less traumatizing) ones.

Robin pulls her hat further down, trying to cover her face. She was 17, and while she was used to being on the run now, she was by no means an expert. Rushing through the crowd, she accidentally bumps into someone causing both parties to fall backwards. The raven haired girl panics, eyeing her hat on the ground being trampled. “Keep looking! She can’t be far!” The sound of pirates trudging towards her edge closer every passing second. She had overestimated herself. “Ah… you too huh? Let’s go.”

A[n] (s/c) hand reaches out for Robin, yanking her in a random direction, she barely manages to scoop up her hat in the process. “That fuckin’ bitch, where did she go?” Robin’s heart is racing, but she urges herself to run faster, releasing her hand from the stranger. “This way dummy!” The stranger, another young teen, harshly whispers while catapulting over a stack of boxes and into the alleyway. Robin furrows her brows in annoyance at the name calling but skids to a stop regardless in order to change her direction.

“I’m not dumb.” She states plainly, blue eyes steely with mistrust. Laughter bubbles up from the stranger who raises her eyebrow in skepticism. “Ya sure about that, Miss Nico Robin? At least change your hair color or something.” The (h/c) haired girl is quick to dodge the arms that sprout in an attempt to strangle her. “Woah, easy now, I just saved you from getting captured. Besides we’re kind of in the same boat anyways…” She muttered the last part more to herself but Robin still picked it up.

“Who are you? What do you want? Why did you help me?” “Enoouugh enough, I don’t need a barrage of questions, Nico Robin. Name’s (y/n) (y/l/n).” (y/n) stretches the ache out of her back. “I don’t particularly want anything from you, is it so bad to do a good deed every once in awhile?”

“We’re pirates.”

“No, you are a pirate, Nico Robin, I’m simply traveling.” Robin rolled her eyes, this girl was getting on her nerves, but the banter felt natural, comforting even, in some weird way. “Just Robin is fine. Stop saying my entire name.” (y/n) pretends to contemplate on it before an annoying grin takes over. “Nah, it pisses you off so I like it, Nico Robin.”

This girl was definitely going to get strangled by yours truly.

“Well, you can either come with me to the next island and we split or you can stay here and figure out how to not get caught by that mob out there.” Furrowing her brows, Robin stares at the (s/c) teen, obviously not too fond of her but also not wanting to pass up the opportunity to live another day. Then she recalled the earlier statement made. “You said you were in the same situation as me, how do I know that going with you won’t be even more dangerous?”

“Because I kill all my enemies.”

A chill shot straight down Robin’s spine, she hadn’t exactly killed yet, more like incapacitated and ran. She did what was necessary to survive, if she didn’t have to kill she wouldn’t. “I accidentally missed some stragglers though, but next time I won’t.” (y/n) notices the unsettled look on the raven’s face, letting out a sigh and fiddling with her (h/c) hair. “I don’t uh, consider you my enemy if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re in good hands if you choose to go with me, scouts honor.”

Blue eyes bore deeply into (e/c) ones, (y/n) was fairly easy to read, much to Robin’s surprise. “You must be lonely huh? That’s what you meant by ‘same boat’.” Her defenses immediately dropped upon witnessing the flustered expression erupting on (y/n)’s face as she continues to shout out denials and curses. “I don’t want you to come with me anymore! Stay!” Robin chuckles, lacing her hands behind her back and walking towards the pier. “No thanks, I rather like getting under your skin (y/n) (y/l/n).” She replies cheekily, looking over her shoulder with a smirk. “You coming?”

The hot spring was relaxing, despite the fact that it was water, for some reason devil fruit users weren’t affected. A phenomenon that intrigued Robin but she figured it was just native to the island. Golden maple leaves fluttered into the spring, some of them landing on the floating food trays. “This is amazing.” Nami moans, leaning against the rocks and sinking further down in bliss. “The festivities should be starting soon if you want to walk around and partake. We have some clothes specifically for the Harvest Festival that you can wear.” The resort hostess informs the lady duo, a gentle smile on her red lips.

Honey brown eyes light up like a child’s on Christmas, so far Nami had been loving the island. She wanted to experience as much as possible before they would have to leave. The log pose resets in 2 days, but the navigator will be sure to buy an eternal one. “Let’s go?” Nami questions with puppy eyes, warming up Robin’s heart. She truly was like a younger sister Robin never knew she wanted. “Of course. Can we see the festival wear?”

Luffy and Usopp were having an apple bobbing competition while natives fawned over Chopper, showing him sparklers and feeding him candied apples. The reindeer was flustered but loved the attention, unable to hide the flowers floating around him with a pink aura. Brook is constantly getting mistaken for a decoration, but he doesn’t mind too much, instead opting to perform with the other musicians.

He briefly stopped playing his violin after an unsettling sensation settled in his gut (not that he has one, so bones?). He scans the crowd, feeling like he was being watched with malicious intent. Fleeting in his peripheral vision was a (color) kimono sleeve, and the discomfort faded. He had just missed the culprit. “Hey Skeleton, is everything alright?” The other musicians look at him with concern etched into their faces.

“Yes, I was distracted by some beautiful women over there, yohohoho!” He lied, not wanting to ruin the vibes, after all Robin said that the island is safe.

Well, fairly.

Nami and Robin are fitted into beautiful yukata with maple leaves printed on them, their hair are placed in traditional buns with different floral pins to hold it up. Once again Robin is fairly quiet and deep in thought, it starts to worry the ginger, but she silences the urge to nag. Nami grabs Robin’s hand, pulling her from contemplation and towards the food stalls. “I wanna try the fruit tarts you mentioned earlier.” On the way, the ladies cross paths with Luffy and Usopp, both drenched with water.

Zoro somehow managed to make his way around, drawn by the smell of grilled fish and the sound of music. Franky is entertaining the children with his hair tricks while Sanji is losing a concerning amount of blood over Nami and Robin’s new clothes. “You both look so lovely, I wish that I could capture this moment forever~!” Civilians stare at the blond warily, not used to seeing such copious amounts of blood leave a human body.

The typical shenanigans ensue, starting with Zoro name calling the cook as Chopper hurries to grab emergency blood bags from his pack. Amidst all of this, Robin felt as if she was being watched. She refused to dismiss it, but when glancing around she couldn’t find anything that would give away her newfound stalker.

The following day rolls around, Robin is up fairly early and decides to walk around the city. It’s a little chilly and foggy out as she makes her way towards a cafe, wanting to try their morning special, a Maple Pecan Latte. She sits at one of the outdoor tables despite the chill. If her hunch was right, the stalker would take the opportunity she granted to them. About twenty minutes into her book and halfway through her drink does the chair in front of her lose its vacancy.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Nico Robin in the flesh.” The familiar scent from the day before is back, alongside a whole wave of memories that weren’t really forgotten but tucked away in order to avoid the guilt. “(y/n)…” Robin barely managed to breathe out, placing her book down and staring properly at her old partner in crime. The (s/c) woman no longer wore the mischievous grin with a sly sparkle in her eyes like when they were young. Her eyes were dull, nearly lifeless. A scar decorated her forehead and her jaw was set, clearly Robin was an enemy now.

“You sure are living it up, playing family and going on adventures with those misfits. Flaunting your location without a care in the world now that you feel free. Yet you were so quick to dispose of me the moment you almost got caught.” The archaeologist tried to remain calm on the outside, but on the inside her heart was racing and riddled with guilt and nostalgia. Many years ago she was not the woman that she is today.

She wasn’t nearly as mature, and she knows that she has hurt many people - some who didn’t deserve it at all. When she joined the Strawhat Pirates, she made a vow to herself to constantly be better than she was the day before. Luffy had given her a second chance at life, she wanted to honor that commitment. The things she did would never be erased, but as long as she continued to bring positivity into the world and correct the wrongs, she would forgive herself.

A gentle smile tugs on Robin’s lips, sullen but also full of endearment. (y/n) was still just as easy to read as she was over 10 years ago. Despite how silent she was, deep in those (e/c) eyes were rage, but also the same bittersweet nostalgia. “How have you been? Did you ever accomplish your dream of (insert dream)?” (y/n) remains unchanging, actually more aggravated with the attempt at casual conversation. Robin maintains her smile, closing the book completely and taking a sip of her lukewarm latte.

“Have you come to kill me?”

(y/n) huffs out a sardonic laugh, yet her expression is not amused, “You’re a real piece of shit you know that, right?” Robin licks her lips, taking a breath, “Yes, I know. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I was young and selfish, I didn’t care what happened to those who weren’t of use to me back then.”

It has been nearly two years since Robin and (y/n) started traveling together. They talked about dreams of the future, what island they’d like to settle down on after chasing their goals. What started off as an unconventional partnership turned into one in which they trusted each other with their lives. Robin was the strategist and the navigator, (y/n) was the cook and the bargainer but also the muscle when necessary.

“I’m serious, you need to put on a mask or something, you’re too noticeable.” (y/n) complained, braiding Robin’s hair into a convenient updo. The black haired woman just hums, soothed by the repetitive motion that lightly scratches her scalp. “Okay I’m done. You wanna look?” Robin shakes her head, “Anything you do always looks good.” They arrive at a winter island, and albeit reluctant, Robin ties a bandanna around the lower half of her face.

(y/n) gives her an approving smile that warms her up inside. At some point they had past the point of friendship but not quite yet lovers. It was something like a puppy love, they would exchange heated kisses and cuddle but never went much further than that, much to (y/n)’s dismay. “How long is it gonna take for the log pose to reset?”

“Just a few hours, enough to get some shopping done.” Robin tries to flutter her eyelashes at (y/n) who is unamused but lets it slide anyway. “We have to do errands first before shopping, okay?” After discussing who would do what and where to meet in case of emergency, the duo split. Robin went to go search for camping equipment, as she entered the store she began to feel slightly overwhelmed.

The shop was dimly lit with flickering lights that made it hard to focus on the task at hand. It was cramped with a lot of people bustling around, looking at different tents or sleeping bags. Hands growing slightly clammy, she pulls the bandana further up her face and begins looking at equipment herself. The constant getting shoved into was rattling her nerves as well as making the bandana slip. A loud crash followed by some screaming had triggered Robin so badly that her world seemed to spin on it’s head. Momentarily, the smell of smoke invaded her nose, clawing down her throat and choking her violently.

It may have been years since the destruction of her hometown, but the trauma still lives deep inside of her. The crash was revealed to have been a shelf collapsing, patrons yelping in surprise at the sudden clatter of camping gear dumping onto them. Having already been run ragged and on the verge of an anxiety attack, Robin rushes out of the shopping district and yanks the bandana down, struggling to get her breathing in order.

“Young lady, are you alright?” Stiffening up, she quickly pulls up the bandana, but the man releases a raspy chuckle. They stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, what could have been mere seconds felt like an eternity. The man pretends to be fixing his coat before pulling out Robin’s wanted poster. Ice trickled through her veins at the sight, of course the moment she lets her guard down she’s found out. “Unfortunately you’re a bit too late, ‘demon child’. Turn yourself in nice and easy if you want to live. You know, you’re worth quite a lot now for an old bounty hunter like me.” She couldn’t budge an inch, just from the way the man stared at her, she knew any sudden movement meant death.

“Run!”

The bounty hunter lets out a vicious grunt, grabbing his thigh which had been stabbed by the edge of a broken glass bottle. (y/n) swings her arm upwards, bottle in hand and aiming for the man’s throat. He takes a step back, teeth gritted in annoyance. “You goddamn-” The hunter braces his arms to deflect (y/n)’s kick, however he wasn’t prepared for the powerful knock back nor the foot that sprouted behind him causing him to trip and fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I-” Robin attempted to explain herself as they ran, gathering the attention of pedestrians around them. “It’s fine, we just have to get the hell out of here! Did he hurt you?” (y/n) didn’t look at the black haired woman, focused on finding the quickest path to safety. Before the question could be answered, a gunshot rang through the plaza. The bullet scraped (y/n) on the forehead causing her to gasp in pain.

“(y/n)!” “We’re splitting, go to the meetup spot okay? I’ll see you there.” The crowd grew thick and chaotic, civilians panicking at the thought of being shot. It was only seconds before Robin lost sight of the (h/c) tresses, but she’d never mistake the look in those eyes.

(y/n) was going for the kill.

Deciding to obey orders for now, Robin heads for the designated area. The navy started to go on the move as well due to the sudden disruption, so she had to be as careful as she was quick. A voice in the back of her head bemoaned how problematic everything had gotten. We should’ve never gone with (y/n). What good has she brought us? She wanted to shake those thoughts, but truthfully things had gotten too lively with (y/n) as her partner.

The woman was short-tempered with murderous tendencies. In the few arguments that they’ve had with each other, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say Robin wondered if she needed to be concerned for her life. Even though she swore to do no harm, the look in (y/n)’s eyes felt like staring down a feral beast. Too distracted by her thoughts to fully pay attention to her surroundings, the sound of a bullet whizzing right past her ear is what snaps Robin into reality.

She turns around quickly, trying to assess the situation and to see where she needs to move next. The bounty hunter is crouched on the roof, rifle in hand. Unbeknownst to him, (y/n) is on the roof as well, dagger clutched close to her chest. She creeps silently, waiting for the hunter to get back in position to shoot. Right when his finger is on the trigger and his rifle is steady, she pounces, pinning him down and stabbing him in the side of his throat.

The (s/c) killer grabs the rifle [what, it’s free loot!], slinging it across her back before jumping off the roof and into the alleyway. When she landed, a navy soldier had been in motion to leave until the noises shocked him into combat mode. “W-What are you doing?! Don’t you know there’s… a shooter on the loose…” He stares at the newly gained rifle before quickly aiming his own.

“Already causing trouble for me even in death, bastard.” The navy soldier fires two shots before he’s knocked out by an elbow to the jaw. Naturally the sound of more gunshots attracts surrounding navy soldiers and it isn’t long before (y/n) has a group of them chasing after her that she’s given up on shaking off. As she’s approaching the meetup spot, it’s very evident that a certain ebony-haired woman is not there. ‘Did she get caught? We should’ve never split! I fucked up…!’

(y/n) urged herself to keep running, heading towards the plaza once more. Yes it was risky, but at least she would be able to confirm if Robin got caught by the navy. As she finally enters the plaza, something catches in her peripheral.

Nico Robin sailing away on their quaint little boat.

“Robin! Robin, what the hell are you doing?!” Rage boiled deep within (y/n)’s gut, but unfortunately her stamina had a limit. She does a sharp right turn in order to make a mad dash for the docks in hopes of being able to jump on before it’s too late [and to throttle a certain woman real close to death]. However, a searing pain spreads through her hip, then her foot and another in her leg causing her to collapse. The navy soldiers swiftly put away their rifles and continued pursuit. “Don’t let her get away! Tie her up!” “Yes sir!”

Robin uses the tip of her finger to graze (s/c) knuckles. A sharp inhale was heard and eye contact was made. “But I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed and everyday I’m actively choosing to be better than I was yesterday. You don’t have to forgive me, I just want you to know that I will never hurt you like that again. Even if for you that means my death.” (y/n) takes a shaky breath, her resolve wavering before cursing. A bright glint moves across the table triggering her to take action.

Robin is shoved out of her seat, at first she thinks that it’s truly the end of her life until she hears that same word that saved her last time.

“Run! I’ll handle this.” (y/n)’s hand is caked with blood, her other hand digging out the bullet. “With one hand out of commission? I doubt it. Let’s go!” Robin snatches the injured hand within her own, tugging them both towards safety. “Ah fuck…” (y/n) lets out a pained whimper, causing Robin to examine her. Blood is oozing through the (h/c) haired woman’s shirt and staining her pants indicating a gunshot wound to the lower torso.

Just like all those years before, the two women are hidden in the midst of a raging crowd. For a few seconds Robin swears she sees a younger version of (y/n) staring at her with pleading eyes, before it goes back to the current (y/n). Her skin is growing dull and clammy with sweat as she leans against Robin for support. “M’losing too much blood…” She slurs out, causing the archaeologist’s heartbeat to race with anxiety. Taking a deep breath, Robin steadies her voice. “Don’t worry, we have a doctor who can take care of you, okay? So stay awake, you hear me?”

Faintly the sound of Robin’s baby den-den mushi ringing barely pierces through all the screaming and stampedes. She isn’t given the chance to speak once she answers, instead, a barrage of yells could be heard. “Where are you?! We’re heading for Sunny right now, the navy is here ya know!” Usopp is panicking on the phone, evident by the tears running down the den-den mushi’s face. Luffy could be heard laughing in the background.

“I’m close by, please tell Chopper to prepare for treatment. It’s urgent.” Robin glances at her ex-partner, (e/c) eyes unfocused and half-lidded. "Please…"

(y/n) had practically lost consciousness by the time she and Robin reach Sunny. Her feet were dragging, Robin being the one nearly carrying her to the ship. The archaeologist’s hands were caked in blood, face covered with sweat, and eyes drowning in worry.

The rest of the crew was alarmed at the state that they arrived in. Chopper is quick to jump into action, instructing Robin to bring (y/n) to the infirmary where everything was prepped. The air was tense, no one knew what to say to the ebony haired woman. They don't know that this is someone who she's known a long time ago and pretty intimately at that. Someone who knows a side of her that isn't shown anymore. Robin isolates herself in the library, opening a book but not processing the words.

All she could think about was (y/n)'s fate. Would she live? Would she die? Did she want to live? Before her thoughts could take a darker turn, she decided to distract herself with a pleasant memory - the first time she went to Goldenleaf Island.

"This place is absolutely wonderful! It's like it's raining gold flakes! Take a look Robin!" (y/n) is beaming, leaning on the side of the boat as if it would cause them to reach the dock faster. Upbeat music could be heard playing as soon as they stepped into the pier. Children ran around with kites and sparklers, delicious native cuisine scented the air, making the girls' mouths water in anticipation.

"Welcome to Goldenleaf Island! We’re currently in the middle of our Harvest Festival, so make sure to enjoy the occasion to its fullest. If you head this way, someone will be able to get you the proper festivities garbs." An elderly man beckons the women, a kind smile etched into his face. Robin was wary about the whole situation, deciding to keep her sunglasses on until they were in the dressing rooms.

"Oh! They have masks here, do you want one?" (y/n) offers a clay fox mask to the archaeologist. "It beats looking silly with sunglasses. Are you gonna wear one too?" Robin inquires, a slight pout forming on her lips at the answer. "Hah? No way, I'm not the dumbass that can't hold a disguise for shit. Anyone with a brain cell can see that it's just you with a hat or a different hairstyle."

"Oh, like you're any better?" She crosses her arms in annoyance, the other teen never lets her live down her (bad) disguises. "I am, that's why I don't have a bounty photo. And you can't use the concept art against me because it's outdated." (y/n) grins smugly when Robin closes the changing curtains with a huff.

Grabbing her yukata, (y/n) then slides the curtains back open before closing it behind her. "You can't be in here." Robin gripes, already in her undergarments. "Aww, don't act like that. M'sorry okay?" (s/c) hands creep around her tanned waist, pulling her flush against her partner. A soft kiss trails from her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and stops right behind her ear. "We can do whatever you want at the festival today. How does that sound?" (y/n) bargains, whispering gently in her ear before blowing on it and pulling away.

Robin is flustered, (y/n) knows this because she's quiet and won't make eye contact. The girls finish getting dressed before (y/n) helps with putting the mask on. "It suits you pretty well." The (h/c) teen compliments, doing one last check on her makeup. "We could match, just thought I'd throw that out there." Robin makes one last attempt, but all it does is trigger a laughing fit from her partner.

The days spent on Goldenleaf were ones with no worries. They were able to behave like the youngsters they are, eating til they dropped, playing with sparklers, and goldfish catching. Sneaking kisses in alleyways and watching fireworks hand in hand from the balcony of their hotel room. It was good to forget reality for a bit, moments like these were worth living for.

A timid knock on the door draws Robin out of memory lane. Not waiting for a response, Chopper creeps his head through the door. "That lady you brought, she's currently stable and is resting." As if a huge weight had been lifted off of her chest, the archaeologist breathes deeply before giving a strained smile. "That's good, thank you." Her voice nearly betrayed her, threatening to tremble with emotion as she willed herself not to cry.

"Luffy does want to hold a crew meeting though, sooner rather than later, preferably." Chopper adds, expression unusually serious. And the same goes for her captain as soon as she reaches the deck. Most of the crew seemed anxious, after all it's rare for Robin to lose her composure. But one look into those blue eyes would tell you everything you needed to know. They didn’t want to pry, worried that she would pull back into herself and shut them out.

However, Luffy is the captain of the ship, and as such he has a right to know who is aboard, which brings the question, "Who is that person? You've been acting strange since the attack, is it because of her?" Robin tries not to show how flustered she is, eyes unable to meet her fellow crewmates. "She's an old friend of mine. We have some issues that I want to work out, now that I know she's going to live."

With a singular nod, Luffy dismissed any negative thoughts and instead broke out into a huge smile. "Well a friend of yours is a friend of ours. She’s gonna get the best treatment possible!" Robin returns the smile

It takes a few days before (y/n) regains consciousness and is cleared to start moving around. Sanji practically has a heart attack at the sight of her. "My beloved goddess, is there anything that I can do for you?" The blond moves swiftly, pulling out a chair for her to take a seat while flashing her his brightest smile. “Something light is fine…” (y/n) eyes him warily, but relaxes in the chair against her better judgment. Being injured has made her a bit passive. Chopper enters the kitchen as well, checking vitals while the (h/c) woman eats.

“Everything looks fine, but you should still take it easy. Your wound hasn’t fully closed.” A hum of acknowledgment is heard, and Sanji places down a small bowl of fruit. “Something to hold you off for now.” He explained, blue eyes gazing curiously at her wounded hand. The kitchen door swings open gently, Robin walking in with an empty plate. (y/n)’s eyes immediately shoot to her, and the stare is returned tenfold.

The tension was stifling, so much needed to be said, but not for prying ears. Sanji awkwardly clears his throat. “Chopper, let’s give them some space for now.” The reindeer agrees without hesitation, nearly leaving his medical supplies behind in his desperation to leave the kitchen. (y/n) remains still, continuing to stare at Robin despite the raven haired woman breaking eye contact. She places her plate in the sink silently, it was just them now.

“Earlier, you asked me how I’ve been, I haven’t been doing so hot, I’ve been overworking myself so that I could forget the good times I’ve had with you.” Pain was evident in the (e/c) hues, tinging them darker than usual. “I didn’t want to forgive you, even though my heart ached when I tried to convince myself you were no good for me. So I tried to get rid of it.” Robin stayed silent, listening attentively to everything that was said. She took it all in – this is (y/n)’s true feelings. “I never did do (insert dream). I gave up everything for revenge, and I couldn’t even commit to that. I’m tired, Robin.”

The archaeologist creeps closer to (y/n), settling down in the seat beside her. She gingerly links their pinkies together, waiting to see if the (h/c) haired woman would pull away. When she didn’t, Robin began lacing their hands together completely and rubbing her thumb over the bandaged knuckles. (y/n) sighs, silently cursing her body for instinctually relaxing at the touch. “There wasn’t a day where I haven’t thought about you.” Robin admits, inhaling that familiar scent that she adores so much. She leans her head on (y/n)’s shoulder. “Sometimes it would be a little painful, because the guilt would eat at me.” Tilting her head up so that she could get a peek at the mercenary’s expression, Robin continues to speak. “Let’s start over.”

(y/n) makes a sound of mock contemplation, releasing her hand from Robin’s grasp. A slight panic rattled her bones at the disconnect, doubling in size at the poker face given to her. “I don’t really let strangers touch me like this, sorry lady.” Blue eyes widened in disbelief, triggering (y/n) to break her serious facade with a smirk. The duo broke out into a fit of giggles before (y/n) gets stern again. “I don’t want to start over, but I do have a lot of healing that I need to do. It might get ugly, but… I’d like to have you by my side again, and to teach me.”

Robin gently cups her face, peppering butterfly kisses on her nose, cheeks, forehead, all around before finally pecking her lips. She pulls back, making meaningful eye contact. “I will never betray you again, I swear.”

[switch-writer]

The Fate of the Cards

A/N: AHHH. Okay, despite all the requests I gotta do, I THINK THIS IS A PERFECT PROJECT TO COME BACK ON. THIS IS MY PART IN A ART/WRITING TRADE WITH @giggly-toybox WHO IS A SWEETHEART. Genuinely give them a follow. BUT! They’re the biggest Basil Hawkins and X Drake fan around, and they deserve some fun shenanigans 😤 BUT THANK YOU FOR THE PATIENCE AND I APOLOGIZE IF ITS SHORT. And I hope you enjoy very much🫶🫶

Ah, yes, The Supernovas, otherwise known as the worst generation, were known to be… aggressive. Monstrous pirates of thieves and brutality… similar to the warlords in a weird way, except the worst generation weren’t Government dogs.

Not that most warlord’s did their jobs anyways… But that’s besides the point.

The point is that the supernovas were brutal pirates who wouldn’t team up for nothing. Not a chance. At least that’s what most would assume. Yet, here they were, Basil Hawkins, the blonde who happened to enjoy tarot card readings, and X Drake, the former marine who swapped sides and who’s since been a pirate.

These two were… reasonable enough to get together and make a strange sort of team despite differences. Although they argued a bit. Drake was more quiet, so was Hawkins… but Hawkins certainly didn’t hesitate to ask questions and came across as harsh. But didn’t most Captains? Especially since X Drake would give him the same attitude back.

“Relax, Hawkins.” X spoke with his usual calm, dead serious tone. While Hawkins typically had that same tone, Drake managed to get him worked up. Over what you may ask? “I refuse to believe that you won fair and square.” Basil accused harshly. This wasn’t what he predicted after all! It had to be cheating!

“Then keep not believing it. Doesn’t make it any less true.” The former Rear Admiral spoke with a careless tone, scoffing in slight disbelief. “Are you actually upset?” Hawkins shot a glare towards the man in response, making it clear he was upset.

“…Oh come on.” X spoke with a deadpan tone, but nodded slowly. “Lighten up, Hawkins, I don’t want to—“ He was cut short by the tarot reader tossing the poker cards of sorts at him.

Silence… a long… dreading… moment of silence.

“Basil Hawkins.”

“…If I had to assume, something tells me that was the wrong choice.” Hawkins spoke calmly, but his eyes showed uncertainty. Was this supposed to be what his previous reading was about?

Drake kept his cold stare as Hawkins slowly shifted his foot, ready to dash if the situation called for it.

“Do those cards tell you when to run? Because only a fool would sit here.” X Drake spoke.

“…Does that mean—“ “yes, it means run!” And suddenly, the zoan devil fruit user dashed forward, and if Hawkins didn’t go in slight shock, he would’ve squawked. However, he didn’t! Instead, he had let out a much more manly noise! Instead of a squawk, he gasped dramatically and then yelped like a dog as he stumbled backwards and began to run.

The long haired Blondie found himself rushing around a room, practically playing tag and using a structure for ‘protection’ so you can’t be tagged. Except this wasn’t tag, in fact, it was cat and mouse. And Basil had no clue what happened when the cat caught him, the mouse.

“You… idiot—! Woah—!” Hawkins spoke with a strong spike of frantic nature in his tone as Drake attempted to fool him by double backing around the couch. “Don’t be stupid—! Stop playing this game!” Basil spoke harshly, attempting to be intimidating and tough.

“You accused me of cheating, I don’t take it lightly. And that was before throwing cards at me.” “You had to cheat—!” The paramecia devil fruit user accused. Which the man who had reddish-brown hair inhaled, before giving a slight smile.

“Accuse me of it, and I’ll do it—!” He claimed, suddenly jumping over the couch, his cape/cloak flowing in the force and wind from his dash and jump, and he almost tackling Basil, wrapping his arms around him as they stumbled together, Hawkins almost fell down as Drake caught both him and the card reader, getting strength in his position and firm in his stance.

And they were stable.

And silent. Hawkins didn’t want to say a word. No. He couldn’t. Or else the reddish-brown haired man would strike—

Suddenly, out of the blue, the man began to feel giggles bubbling in his throat, a smile twitching on his face, his body even feeling that tingly feeling, causing him to squirm. “H-Hehey—!” Hawkins reflectively squirmed upon recognizing the feeling. A ticklish feeling caused by the ‘former’ marine’s fingers.

“Didn’t run well enough.” Drake claimed cleverly before his fingers spidered up ‘the magician’s’ sides and ribs, causing the man to panic and finally let out built up bubbly giggles.

“Y-You’re sohoho insuhufferable!” Hawkins scolds, attempting to remain tough despite it failing miserably. He was a bunch of giggles! And now that the giggle dam broke, it couldn’t stop.

But in response to his tough reply, X decided the best course of action was simple, his fingers teased and tapped across his ribs, occasionally making a stop to scribble between and on the sensitive nerves through there, causing a small squeak followed by soft giggling, and Basil squirming side to side, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Q-Quhuhuit it! Yohou’re a evil, awfuhuhul man—!” The insults kept flowing, and suddenly, Drake moved his hands, making them crawl up to his neck and spidering around his neck. Those feelings across Hawkins neck made him straighten up his hunched over posture and squeal, causing chuckles and a small soft laugh.

“Apologize.” Drake required in exchange for mercy.

However, the fellow pirate was quite stubborn! He refused, shaking his head and grabbing at the ‘X’ tattooed man’s hands in a strong attempt to win. “N-Nehever!” The man in the white wavy sleeved shirt stuck up his nose, showing strength…

Until the marine strikes right at his stomach, scribbling and wiggling his fingers across it, causing the almost electric sensations to spike. And within seconds, that brave face was a smiling one at the least, Hawkins laughing out as he slowly went to the floor, throwing his head back in laughter.

While he squealed, his actual laugh was deeper. Granted, it wasn’t as deep as his speaking voice, but it was still deeper than those girly and sweet squeals and squeaks that only a group of mice could hear.

Drake however was amused by it, his fingers moving quick and effectively, causing the man to squirm and curl up, practically rolling around.

“DRAKE—!” He called out, squeezing his eyes shut with a sweet smile, kicking his legs a little bit as he felt those fingers scribble and poke at his belly, causing more cackles and laughs. “PLEHEASE—!” The blondie softly spoke, his voice weak due to his breathless laughter.

“Hm.” Drake acknowledged, sitting on the man’s legs to prevent him from rushing off, but his fingers stopped. His hands pulled away as the man giggled breathlessly, his hair messily in his face.

“Y-You’re ehevil—!” “I could be worse.” The man reminds the giggling blonde pirate, who begrudgingly agreed. “…But I have no doubt you cheated.” Hawkins states, a wobbly smile upon his face.

…He was still on about this?

Admittedly… Drake wasn’t completely honest. His morals were honorable, but he may of… fibbed and happened to rig the cards in his favor. He was just surprised that the man who always had cards in his hand noticed so fast, or rather was consistent in his accusations.

But due to the man being so quick on his feet and keeping up his accusations, Drake felt himself get… flustered.

“No denial—!” Basil spoke out, causing Drake to immediately claw his hands at the soft tummy, causing the man with the power of straw to start laughing with a happy tone, he certainly wasn’t opposed to this currently. “I’ll shut you up! No cheating was involved.” The darkly dressed man who happened to wear a feathered hat spoke with authority… although a smile grew on his face as he kept tickling Hawkins.

“qUHUHUIT—! BUFFOON!” Hawkins yelped, squealing before scrunching his nose up, a bright smile on his face. “Apologize, then say I won fair and square.”

And the tickling ensued due to stubbornness, the blonde shaking his head before laughing, using his hands to cover his mouth, refusing to show his smile now, his laughter still vocal and quite lovely to listen to even if muffled.

But, during that monent, Drake striked by wiggling a finger right into his belly button, causing a snort to suddenly come from the usually cynical man’s throat. With that, more laughter flowed from Basil’s mouth, a finger teasing and tickling right at his belly button. It was driving him crazy!

But it stopped, causing the magician to slowly open his eyes, shocked it stopped. But the moment he opened his eyes, the zoan user lifted his shirt and brushed a feather across his belly, causing a squeaky sound of a laugh to leave his throat, and immediately. He caved.

“eHEHE—! IT’S FAHAIR!”

Yelled the tarot reader, causing the man holding a feather to raise a brow. “Hm?”

“…And I’m… begrudgingly sorry.” Hawkins spoke softly with a huff.

“Much better.” And for good measure, Drake gave him a congratulations stroke from the feather in his hand, causing the straw-man to tumble over with a small laugh, causing him to hold his belly to attempt to block tickles. “T-THAHAT’S ENough—!” He exclaimed with a laugh, his hands batting at him now.

And with a nod, the reddish-brown haired man moved off his legs, letting his breathing even out… and finally… he relaxed. They both relaxed in silence. Hawkins was sprawled out on the floor, and Drake sat calmly nearby…

“…I did cheat.”

“…” and a slow head turn with a glare occurred, and within a moment, the blonde was on top of Drake. “You’ll pay for feeding into a delusion!”

As dramatic and loud as his wording was, it was silly… and X Drake found enjoyment in challenging Hawkins… as for Hawkins… if anyone were to tickle him, he supposed it’d be best for it to be him…

Especially when he could get his revenge.

[rebornofstars]

king of hyrule: a clumsy analysis, ch1.

for @toyouhellohowareyou, @nyastri, and @starwolfie, who asked for a director's commentary on king of hyrule.... i've never done one of these before but i've always wanted to try!! we'll see how it goes. warning: i have given myself permission to ramble. hard tw for descriptions of gore under the cut.

also, my deepest apologies to anyone who thought i knew what i was doing at any point.

first i will give context. this fic was given to @across-violet-skies as an (extremely belated) birthday gift... i'd been trying to find out what sort of ideal gift riv would like without actually asking, and so far had received no hints, because i was a coward who wasn't actually asking. then a perfect opportunity fell in my lap! i said "i've never actually written anything from hyrule's perspective" (we are all gracefully ignoring THE VASE), riv said "i love hyrule. if you write hyrule it will 100% go on my to read list", @a-manicured-lawn went straight for the throat with "Hyrule MEETS THE CHAIN MID SACRIFICE"... and then thunder clashed overhead, sealing my fate forever. chat threw evil possessive fae rulie at me and i caught him with both hands. the first thing i wrote in the document was came back wrong.

i opened a new doc. faced with the spine-tingling prospect of writing from a perspective i was not experienced with, i immediately closed the doc. i backtracked to my headcanons file. in the hyrule section, i found this:

his sisters do not seem to know that he was born so large and wingless, but he thinks that maybe they understand better than he does, for joining them feels like shedding his skin for something truer, and even when he puts it back on he can feel it, these days. he can feel where it rubs against his wings underneath, feels like he is hiding in a shell like the hermit crabs of wind’s beaches, like he is only in disguise as human and is really perhaps something else entirely. fairies are mouthless unless they need to be otherwise, in the case of offered sugar water and fruit. they sing more than speak, and it sounds like chimes, and hyrule knows this, it needs no translation, it sings to the boneless ecstasy of this form, of flight and family and the sweetness of being small…

which i quite enjoyed thinking about. the intersection of fairy joy and horror had potential. the alien qualities of magical creatures. i drew from this feeling to cobble together an opening line:

Mouthless, the fairies sing to him. In his dreams they are made of light.

okay, so, this is a solid start, right? i love it.

He wakes from memories of the cold-sweet greenwoods of Twilight’s era to darkness, and for a moment the sound of his brothers’ laughter seems so far away he wonders whether they were a feverish invention...

i aimed for confusion and befuddlement rather than ignorance. he needed to have some sort of expectations for the situation, so i could fuck with his head more effectively 😈

...a flame deep in the cave, a flickering torch, and by it he sees blood.

here we meet fuckup number 1, in the second paragraph because i exceed even my own expectations! the original draft included monsters - because, logically, who put hyrule on the altar? wouldn't they wish to witness the sacrifice? i ended up getting rid of the monsters to eliminate the need for a fight scene (although, PFFFT, i went back there in chapter 2 anyway), but this lonely torch stuck around. it makes no sense. i don't know why i didn't just remove it. i needed the cave to be very dark anyway, so that the chain would have to light a lamp in order to see the damage hyrule's body sustained...

Hyrule reaches out a finger and scoops it up. It tastes of iron. He can’t afford to leave it, out in the open, where…

blood curse!

...the dark wet pool where he’d been laying. Hyrule reaches out with terrible dawning horror and traces the edge of a divot in the stone, a path for the blood that had leaked out of him while he was unconscious, down and down and down until his hand slips off the edge of the altar and sinks into a bowl of soft ashes —

deeply unhappy with this paragraph. dark wet pool, as a description, gets a mediocre 5/7. the stone altar has carved channels for the blood? okay, but why did i not call them channels??? and thirdly, THE ASHES, ALSO KNOWN AS FUCKUP NUMBER 2. THIS IS LIKE, THE ONLY TIME I MENTION THEM IN THE WHOLE STORY. WHAT THE FUCK, PAST ME.

His dreams of light and greenery are quickly becoming murky.

i quite like this sentence, but—

He lowers his hips off the edge, but he can’t feel the floor. There is not enough light to jump. The altar seems to drop away into an abyss.

WHERE! ARE! THE! ASHES! ARE THEY FLOATING??? HOW DID HE FEEL THEM OFF THE EDGE OF THE ALTAR IF ITS SO TALL??? i was having such conflicting mental images when writing this fic. the altar in my head was like... a normal altar height. but i needed it to be taller to explain why he didn't just run away, since i got rid of all the monsters. so i spent the whole three thousand words trying to edit the altar in my head. mostly unsuccessfully.

The skin on his stomach scrapes against rock as he pulls himself back up.

this sentence was about his hip bone. but i hadn't told you about it yet so i had to switch it out for skin. but it's really about his hip bone in my heart. you understand

...tries to draw his knees into his chest on instinct and the twinge becomes a full body shudder—a spike in his side that reverberates down into his thigh, creaking and bending—

this paragraph was originally about real pain. and then a few minutes later, i was like - wouldn't it be better (worse) if there wasn't any pain? then i can focus on the actual horror part of it rather than the injured part of being injured. if that makes any sense. the imagery is also a bit messy. if i was editing, this is one of the paragraphs i would rewrite. sometimes i actually can't believe i put this stuff on the internet. wtf am i doing

...traces the damp skin where his blood had run all the way back to where it started...

i can't even look this sentence in the eye. i did you so dirty, babygirl. you need a comma. or major surgery. maybe both

edit: i did, in fact, go back and add a comma.

...back to the tender flesh of his hip, where he touches something smooth and hard. He strokes it gently with his fingers, exploring in the dark. He finds wet skin, and hot tense muscle.

okay LETS GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!

Hyrule shivers. He sits quietly with the ghost of what should be pain. Letting it wash over him. The knowledge festers.

something something the horror of placidity when faced with terrible things. something something hyrule has been running from this exact possibility for years and now that it has happened he doesn't know what to do next. something something life after his inevitable sacrifice has never been a possibility for him

He has been bled like an animal for this sacrifice.

ripping this sentence to shreds with my teeth. in a good way. me when characters dehumanise themselves‼️

If he has already bled into the ashes, if he has already been sacrificed, how is he still awake? How is he still alive?

this is me asking myself this question, by the way. at this point i still didn't really have any idea what was happening beyond "let's fuck em up"

Where is Ganon? Unless—

and then i was like, aha. there is something here that i can work with. you are watching me figure this fic out in real time.

...finds skin; hands reaching up from the ground, fingers just reaching the altar. He grasps them, weak. They are hot. Or maybe it is just that his own pulse is cold and slow? He feels faint.

reaching twice in the same sentence? i'm going to travel back in time and break all my fingers before i can hit post. that wasn't intentional. also, the hands were originally cold, and hyrule felt very hot, because like... fury and anger and evil, u know? temperatures rise with a fever? he's sick from the possession? but then later on i wanted legend to be warm with the triforce, and i realised that it made more sense for hyrule to be cold like a corpse. so i changed it.

He bites his lip. So what if he bleeds? What could it matter now?

hopelessness. lack of urgency. he (and i) are both starting to get an idea of what is happening.

“LIGHT!” Legend shouts. “I FOUND HIM! WE NEED LIGHT—are you hurt?”

legend's so cute when he's stressed out. i say this in a demonic writerly way 🥰

“A darkness looms in this cavern,” Four’s voice says distantly. “Something is shrouding the torches. They’re lit, but… the light is stifled.” “I feel it,” Time agrees. “Evil is here.”

where tf is everyone else? i ask myself. ensemble stories are difficult, because they shift the tone. i need to keep the focus solely on legend and hyrule, so [throws glitter] now you're all wandering around in the dark!!

Sorry, sorry,” he says again, feeling the heat inside him shift and writhe. “It wakes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

this is the point where i was like, hell yes, he has ganon inside him. also, meet fuckup number 3. i forgot to get rid of the heat motif. he's supposed to be cold now. whoops.

“Sorry for what?” Legend cries. His hands flutter at the edge of the tall altar, empty, searching. 

in which i remind myself that the altar is supposed to be tall.

Hyrule curls his palm over his heart and wishes to wake from a dream. Nothing happens. He traces the familiar scar with the fingers of the opposite hand. It’s cold and light and empty . Why is it cold? Where is the tr—

first reference to the triforce. heavy-handed, but i needed to make sure everyone was on the same page. he doesn't have it anymore. also, i use the rich text box to post to ao3, and it always adds a space after italicised text, which is mildly annoying.

The path that led through the cold-sweet greenwoods, and laughter that quickly turned to shouts of fear and the ring of steel on steel. The ambush. His flaming sword. Legend, turning for a moment to protect Warriors’ back, and the Darknut that launched itself from behind a moblin towards him—

backstory! and a reference to the first paragraph, because i was really enjoying the phrase "cold-sweet greenwoods". an antithesis to everything currently happening (or at least, it was when hyrule still had his heat motif). "his flaming sword" is hyrule's fire spell. i picked a monster at random.

His hand comes away wet from his chest. He can’t feel anything.

i decided he was going to be impaled even before i decided he was going to be possessed 🥰 it wasn't in the brief but sometimes... sometimes you just gotta sheath a sword in someones chest. u know. u kn—

“I’m not Hyrule anymore,” he says.

and then i was like. you know what would make this worse? what if i trick everyone. what if ganon and hyrule's perspectives are hopelessly entwined? what if there's no way of knowing how much is hyrule and how much is ganon? what if this was actually ganon?

and so this is where i started to have lots and lots of fun. and we get into the gore.

His heart. He is touching his own heart. It beats still. That’s not a good sign.

a bit of casualness among the heavy descriptions! a bit of levity for your brain! also, hyrule(?)'s slow, burgeoning panic? i'm chewing on it. if i do say so myself.

Hyrule’s body withdraws his wrist from the inside of his own chest. How deep does the wound go? If there was light, would Legend be able to see the other side of the altar through him?

i was oddly captivated by this idea that legend would be able to see through his chest. this is also our FIRST use of "hyrule's body" replacing "hyrule" as the perspective character! this transition was something a lot of people loved, and i am very glad i went ahead with it. the idea didn't come to me until the night before posting, and i almost discarded it because it made some sentences clunky.

“You know it,” Hyrule’s body says gently. He cups his hand around the veteran’s face, red-stained nails just lightly pressing against skin, wondering what would happen if he dug them into that soft flesh. “You know it, don’t you? You saw that wound. Nothing could survive that.” “You’re not a thing,” Legend objects from under his palm.

once again, me and characters dehumanising themselves. not a huge focus but it complements the ganon/rulie identity issues nicely.

hyrule's always been a "do not go gentle into that good night" sort of character to me - the idea of him so fatalistic? so hopeless? alarm bells are screeching. something is wrong. SOMETHING IS WRONG

the uncomfortable intimacy begins.

“I think I am,” Hyrule’s body says. “I am a corpse.”

this has really got to be one of the most fun lines in the whole thing.

...flinches back, grip tightening on Legend’s face, dragging him forward until he is pressed against the altar.

underestimating the height of the altar, the sequel.

“Finally. We can see,” someone says. “That took forever. Where’s Legend?”

who? is the character omitted because it's not important, or because hyrule's body doesn't immediately know? the legend fixation is rearing its ugly head 🥰

...and Hyrule’s body is saddened but unsurprised to see tears on his face. They glisten like silver stars.

it took me literally twenty minutes to remember what this sentence was supposed to mean, if you're wondering how brain dead i am right now. anyway, it's genuine sadness, not patronising sadness. it's the part of hyrule that still lives and hurts to see a brother grieving. in a way, this is the only moment in the story that hyrule allows himself to properly mourn, and it's through the lens of his relationship with legend.

Their clothes are unstained, faces tense but clean of blood. In this unholy place, from this altar, their wholeness seems hideous.

i like this bit. it widens the gap between them. makes things a bit more real, a bit darker. presenting the chain as alien emphasises rulie's stance as an unreliable narrator. SOMETHING IS WRONG!!

Somehow, he does not care so much anymore about the mess. He is numb. The stone altar almost feels comfortable to his sensationless legs. He moves, and bone scrapes against the stone. 

this paragraph doesn't quite do what i wanted it to do. it's not raw enough. but it has potential.

...drinks the noise in, heart quickening. Another wave of blood paints itself over his chest.

i'm mortal enemies with this last sentence. i scratched it and rewrote it five times. still not happy.

He flashes his eyes into the dark, where the Chain lurk, unwilling to step closer, faced with such a spectre. A corpse. A king, woken.

the eye flash was important to me. i was thinking about how many nocturnal animal eyes reflect light? the inherent creepiness of blank glowy eyes. also subtle dehumanisation. and ganon begins to enter the story consciousness - a king, woken.

“You were too late to save Hyrule. You chose to protect Warriors instead.”

this was a largely unnecessary plot point. i don't know. i think i was just trying to increase the tension between legend and hyrule. highlight how off the gentle intimacy between them was. they weren't codependent before. they weren't a perfectly synced pair. and now...

Hyrule’s body looks at him and thinks with a deep, all-encompassing revulsion, mine. All mine.

had to make sure i was hitting that 'possessive rulie' button! i've never written a possessive character before so it took a bit of wobbling before i committed. "how weird am i acceptably allowed to make this?" i was thinking.

Hyrule’s body smears the blood lovingly over him: letting it trace the ghost of his silver tears over his cheeks and nose. Rubbing it gently into his forehead. He hushes him.

replacing the tears with blood -> replacing the grief with fear -> replacing the love with something more terrible. also, characters doing horrible unspeakable things very calmly and gently makes me shiver.

Legend sobs again and tries to pull away, but a dead man’s grip is stronger than stinging iron, and Legend himself is weak and trembling. Barely more than a rabbit under his fingers. He wonders, detached, what it would feel like to snap that neck. What it would sound like. The crunch of bone.

stinging iron! fae reference. dead man! enforcing that corpse idea. rabbit! we know this one. the intrusive thoughts are not winning yet, but they're getting closer.

He giggles, and squeezes Legend until he squeaks. “I forgot you all were here,” he confides cheerfully.

i had a lot of fun with this. the happy cutesy language!! the most effective kind of horror, for me, has always been when something awful is sort of... not quite in focus. there, but not fully understood. happening in the background, or right under your nose while you're concentrating on something else. very casual. very normal. very scary.

“But he’s mine,” Hyrule’s body says reasonably. The torch flickers as a slight breeze passes through the cavern. He feels it whistle through his chest and twitches. Warriors’ eyes are wide and afraid. Hyrule’s body grins and licks his bitten lips, painting his canines with blood. “What are you?” the captain breathes.

and this is when i was like, fuck ganon/rulie's identity crisis, why didn't i write this from someone else's perspective??? HOW AWFUL WOULD IT HAVE BEEN??? WHAT ARE THE REST OF THE CHAIN THINKING??? WHAT DOES HYRULE LOOK LIKE??? his detachment, while working well to create tone and pacing, really made it hard to convey the horror of his appearance.

to my great joy, all my dreams were later answered in Hero of Hyrule, Knight of Hyrule, and Founder of Hyrule.

“Oh, were you trying to say something?” he asks, with his best manners. “Go on. You can do it.”

the CONDESCENSION. i then realised what i was about to make him do, and ran back to riv, asking how gorey the fic was allowed to be. "i can change it. it's not too late," i said... "i am so curious," riv replied. so i continued.

and here we go:

...lips pressed tightly together against the blood, which coats his mouth and the skin around it. It looks like he’s taken a bite right out of Hyrule’s flesh, he thinks. It suits him...

i am making things WEIRD and i am making things WORSE. i have nothing to say for myself. it's intentionally uncomfortable.

Hyrule’s body pats his tongue. “There we are! That wasn’t so hard.”

this is one of those sentences that was worsened by the switch to "hyrule's body". but i'm on a roll now. the next few paragraphs mostly consist of me grinning evilly to myself.

...waits, fingers clamped across Legend’s nose, until the man swallows, shivering. His eyes are glazed. Drying blood clumped in the lashes. Hyrule’s body coos. This was his big brother, once.

this is really the point in which legend's agency is completely gone from hyrule's perspective. he ceases to become a player - whether that's because of the way hyrule has succeeded in taking all control from him, or because of ganon/rulie's further mental spiral, who knows? and i just threw that brother line in there to hurt you. of course.

“Ru—Rulie would n—never do this,” someone else agrees, voice breaking. Legend whines an agreement.

even though i'm having a great time writing a darker, more horrific hyrule, i retain the belief that the heroes are each fundamentally good people. my main doubt with this fic is that i don't think i'm straddling that line very well. i mean... after all...

“I already told you I wasn’t Hyrule,” Hyrule’s body says. He squeezes Legend again to coax more pained sounds from him. What is he feeling? Does it hurt? He feels the numb bone of his hip grind against the altar as he moves. The cold point of Warriors’ sword presses softly into his chest. The pressure is almost welcome compared to the gaping emptiness of his wound. “You can taste it, right? You can tell?”

the trusty old obsession with legend manifests itself as jealousy, for a brief moment.

here we see my second attempt at describing bone scraping on stone. it's marginally better.

you guessed it baby, it's the impaling thing again!! if he can't feel pain, does he think of it only as an absence? a lack? there is a metaphor here that i'm not touching but it's in the room with us. it's in the room.

blood curse. right. that's where we're going

Legend jerks in his hold. He laughs delightedly.

now we're getting it!

“Yes, brave one,” he croons, “that’s what the ashes were for. Except I didn’t have enough of a body left to really inhabit , so I borrowed this one. Oh, he bled so nicely for me. It was beautiful.”

those FUCKING ASHES!!! WHY DID I NEGLECT THEM!!! also watch me stickytape an explanation for the possession together in real time

“Didn’t even have to tie him down,” he says gleefully. “He only woke up once during the whole thing, and I guess he figured you’d left him for dead, because he just laid back down. Placid as a lamb, that one, in the end. So easy , when he realised he couldn’t do anything to stop what had already been started…”

is hyrule's body lying? who am i to say (yes yes i know, but). whatever the truth of that dark moment was, i really love this little speech. the idea of him mock-comforting legend with a sugar-sweet description of his own death does something to me. the way he presents himself as helpless. the way he presents himself as unheroic. as giving up. is this hyrule or ganon talking? does it matter?

“STOP IT!” someone screeches. “STOP IT! DON’T SAY THAT!”

i had to keep stopping and going back to add in bits where the chain could talk. whatever fucked-up thing was happening between legend and hyrule had even me constantly forgetting that everyone was right there witnessing it. and when i did remember i had to stop and shriek and wonder whether i'd ever have the guts to post this on the internet.

“BECAUSE I HAVE WOKEN. I HAVE BEEN REBORN. I AM GANON, KING OF HYRULE!”

title drop. every time i read this sentence i get jumpscared by the first bit of my username. the speech pattern is also very clunky. 2/7.

Silence falls for a moment. The torch sputters. 

that fucking torch!!! i'm going to commit a murder.

...and, unwilling to let go of Legend for some inexplicable reason, Hyrule’s body instead lets himself sink down onto the sword. His ribs crunch. The blade enters at an angle but then slots neatly into the hole already there—he slides down the steel, still laughing, until the crossguard presses across his chest.

this paragraph and the start of the next had some good ideas and poor execution. i'm playing around with the 'wound as an absence, a loss' thing again. filled by the sword, by violence. that other metaphor is still hanging around. i'm pointedly not touching it. and ganon/rulie places legend above himself. or is it that he places his control of legend above the physical condition of a body he enjoys injuring, to watch the chain squirm? that's the question, isn't it? is this an act of cruelty or protection?

...scrapes against the walls of his heart, tears his lungs ragged. Fresh blood bubbles into the wound and runs, dripping, off the end of the blade. Legend is crying.

blood & tears.

He can’t stop laughing in this dead boy’s voice. He is back. He is finally free. No longer trapped in blood—no longer suppressed by that triforce— his broken knees sag as he hunts them through the dark—

i just wrote him jumping down like a normal person (underestimating the height of the altar, the sequel's sequel), and then my fingers produced "his broken knees sag as he hunts them through the dark" in response to a personal inquiry as to what ganon/rulie's movement would look like and i was like, FUCK, okay, well, this has to be in it. so i broke his knees.

“Which of you has it?” he says suddenly, snapping his head around as he tracks their movement. His neck crunches. The sword in his chest slows him down. He isn’t bothered to remove it. Behind him, Legend retches, curled into himself on the floor.

how will this end? i asked myself. aha: a wish on the triforce. not too much of a deus ex machina, right? it's literally canon. so this is the point when i went back and added in that earlier stuff about the triforce. there's also a half-hearted broken neck in this paragraph. if i had the change to go back, i'd either elaborate on that or cut it entirely. i was too caught up at the time in wondering how to wrap the story up to pay attention to the details. my bad, guys.

The group exchanges glances, unwilling. He pounces on the nearest and shakes him against the ground, climbing atop the man and snarling in his face like a creature. “WHERE IS IT?”

does ganon/rulie know who this is? does he care?

As he leans over, Warriors’ sword begins to ooze back out of his chest. It slips down until the pommel touches the hero’s sternum. Like an axle it balances between them. He is a sheath for the blade. He is the meat on the skewer. He touches his forehead, leaving bloody splotches behind. Where are these thoughts coming from? He is not—he is more—he is GANON, RIGHTFUL KING OF HYRULE.

an interesting visual here, and not one that i'm convinced i pulled off. but i have been informed that the internal conflict was very good, which is comforting.

“Kill him, then,” says Warriors suddenly. There is an outcry from the others.

i wrote this without really thinking about where it would go, but i'm VERY happy i did. everything clicked into place. there could be a sort of standoff - ganon/rulie's dissonance would be exposed - then something and something else and then the end. i was getting close.

“You said he was yours,” Warriors says. “Why would Ganon say that?” He pauses. Hyrule looks back at Legend. He gets off the floor. 

this, wars my beloved, is a VERY GOOD POINT. he's the only person with a single useful thought in his head.

The blood and puke squelches under his bare feet as he walks back across the room to Legend.

i was pretty happy with this sentence for no good reason. it feels like a child to me. a disgusting, vomit-y child. maybe i'm just proud i managed to remember that legend threw up. keeping track of details is one of my most important goals in writing.

The wet tip of the blade touches the side of his neck. Simple and so—tantalising. Hyrule’s body can picture it. He can picture—

the internal conflict gets a change to shine. also i just love the contrast in the way ganon/rulie touches and thinks about legend. neither entirely separate. thoughts and actions bleeding into each other emotionally but not physically - he's holding back. he's been holding back this entire time.

But wouldn’t it be better if he—he has been so careful not to break Legend. So gentle. He has let him taste. Helped him understand what was happening—explained, kindly—let himself sink down with a squelch onto the sword—only thought about peeling back the skin from Legend’s face with his fingernails. Left the grinning muscle and bone safe in its flesh wrappings and protected— He stops.

i really love this bit. it was a joy to write. gentle horrors, once again. well-meaning destruction.

“See?” says Warriors. He sounds quietly smug. Hyrule’s body snarls. He wants to rip his arms off. Chew through muscle and tendon and nerve with his teeth—snap him bone by bone—he wants to haul him up onto the altar and keep him still and quiet and safe while his minions take over the world—he grips his forehead—what is happening to him—

my love for the em dash cannot be contained. i'm working on it, i promise, but it's easy and so tasty

Hyrule’s body looks. He finds himself with one hand cupped around Legend’s cheek, Legend pressing into the touch despite himself.

yeahh........ i fucked them up.

“I don’t—” he starts. “I SHOULD KILL YOU.” “But you won’t,” Legend rasps.

i'm not sure where i fall on the capitalised dialogue issue. (YES, i KNOW, it was ME who wrote it.) it goes a long way in emphasising power, magnitude, other-ness of the possession... but sometimes i squint at it and it seems a little camp. i guess that's not my problem anymore, though, unless i decide to write another ch—

“There you are,” Legend says. His mouth flickers into a smile. 

his agency is taken back. the culmination of something (of 20 days of bashing my head into a keyboard)

He pushes up to his feet, half-dried blood soggy on his face and matted in his hair—he stretches up to his full height, scabbed knees and dirty tunic and— His hand is so hot on Hyrule’s own that it burns. Legend blinks. Suddenly his irises are gold.

yes, i thought. yes, yes, yes, home run—wait, fuck, i don't know how the fucking triforce actually works—

“I wish to seal away Ganon once more,” Legend says. “So that Link, Hero of Hyrule, will be safe from harm.”

seven google searches and one plea to discord later, i say fuck it we ball. he's going to wish like a disney princess. it's part of the charm of the franchise, these cute fairytale elements, i say, as i frantically mop the blood off the floor

The torch roars higher. He sees a single tear on Legend’s face amongst the blood, shining like a silver star in the firelight. Darkness overtakes him—pain, suddenly, finally, spikes—

TORCH. 🪦

For a moment the sounds of the cavern seem so far away he wonders whether he is being tortured by a feverish invention. An echo. A might-have-been.  Then everything fades.

how do you write a proper conclusion to your essay? just rephrase the introduction/thesis. easy. what? that doesn't work with fic? surely you're mistaken. behold.

so here we are! this post has been a journey and a half. if you have genuinely read this entire thing, my life is yours. i had so much fun writing this fic, and i hope from the bottom of my heart you have at least mildly enjoyed me rambling about the creation of it. this story could never have existed without the wonderful egging-on of my friends 🥰🥰🥰 thank you for coming to my tedtalk