#but still i even wrote down the english line in my notes to make a ghost post with it some time 🤣🤣

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[dovesdreaming]

Hi, Dove! Could you, please, write some Todd Anderson fluff? ♥ Maybe something about sunshine!female reader, she's also kinda shy, but not quite like Todd. She's really academically gifted, writes poems, but is unsure of herself. They know each other from school, but have never really spoken before, and then they accidentally run into each other during free period at the woods (where they like to spend some time alone and just read or write) and they bond.

It doesn't have to be about this, just any Todd fluff would be great! There is not enough dps content out here

𖤓She’s like being bathed in sunlight𖤓

I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!!! it was perfect. I loved Todd so much and I find him so relatable. This type of reader is my favourite to write aswell!!! Please send more Dps requests people I love them! Hope you enjoy <3

Note: Thank you so much for 100 followers ♥️😘🥰

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

Welton had recently allowed girls to attend and your parents being the stuck up people they are, wanted their daughter to attend the best school possible. It hadn’t been so bad, you had made a few friends with the other girls who had started attending and some of the boys who you found the most tolerable. You found making friends hard at the best of times but being somewhere like Welton made it that much harder.

You found your favourite lesson to be English and it wasn’t necessarily because of the subject but more so the teacher. Mr keating managed to make even the most boring parts of the curriculum exciting. Before him you found poetry to be a wasted subject on yourself yet mr keating had turned you into a poet. He brought the writer out of you and showed you just how fun it could be. A subject you used to hate had turned into a hobby of yours, you found yourself writing down poetry and inspiration for poems all the time. Your poems had recently taken a more romantic turn as you had found a muse.

It started when mr keating drew the whole classes attention to a boy who sat in the top corner of the class, usually just out of sight from you, blocked by many students heads. He had encouraged the boy to read aloud a poem from the top of his head. You had never taken note of him before yet him and his poem entranced you. It tugged a core deep inside you that ‘the truth is a blanket that always left your feet cold’. He became the subject from all your poems then on. You always kept your feelings to your self in your notebook, never being sure of yourself enough to ever act on your feelings.

You didn’t know much about him apart from that he hung out with Neil, someone you spoke to occasionally to compare homework answers with. You wrote about how he made you feel. Your favourite spot to write poetry was just on the outskirts of the woods. There was a big willow tree back from the edge of the lake that provided shelter from direct sun yet still allowed it to feel like a summers day. You sat down in your usual spot and let your eyes rest on the moving water to think of your next poem.

Unbeknownst to you todd had knew about you since your first day of attendance. How could he not notice you, you were like a sunray leaving warmth and happiness everywhere you went. He admired you from afar and noticed how many people were attracted to your presence like people wanted to bathe in your light. What really caught his eye though was your smile. He had never seen one as bright and beautiful as yours.

His friends had quickly caught on to his gazing at you and they teased him relentlessly. They made sure to encourage him to speak to you aswell but Todd could never do that. He couldn’t, you were well.. you. You would never go for someone like him. So instead he wrote his feelings into his notebook and carried it everywhere for when inspiration may strike.

His favourite spot to write poetry was down by the lake. There was a tree on the edge of the wood line just set back from the water. He found no one disturbed him there and he could let his mind wander.

Today was like any other Saturday for you. You were heading down to your spot to write some poetry yet when you wandered towards the tree you noticed a figure already sitting in your spot. You froze with slight shock, no one ever came down here. You slowly stepped towards the tree, curious as to who had found your spot. You found no other than your muse. You stepped backwards to try and turn away before he could see you, you weren’t ready to face him yet. However you stepped on a branch which made quite a loud crack for its size. You cursed whoever wasn’t on your side today as you knew todd was now looking at you. You quickly threw on your best smile and reapproached him, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating and how your palms clammed up. He looked like a deer caught in headlights which slightly calmed your nerves, you didn’t want him to feel like that around you. To try and calm both your nerves you tried to break the tension that built by greeting him “I hope I’m not interrupting the sweaty toothed madman’s writing but this is usually where I write as well. Do you mind if I join you?”. You regretted your attempt at humour and cringed internally yet Todd didn’t seem to notice still a bit frozen in place, he just about mustered a nod and with that you tentatively sat down next to him. For awhile you sat together in silence until you turned to him with a rush of adrenaline to try to get to know him. He was hesitant to talk and mumbled and tripped over his words but you were patient and never interrupted him. You listened to everything he had to say and Todd was grateful for it even if he couldn’t say it out loud. You spoke about poems and your favourite poets. You enjoyed his company and he enjoyed yours, he could feel himself relaxing around you something that was rare for him to do at Welton. You parted ways when it grew darker and he found himself craving your presence. You both longed to see each other again yet didn’t know if it would ever occur again, both still too afraid to make the move.

However when the next Saturday rolled around and you approached your spot again to find a figure already there you knew you wouldn’t ever have to worry about missing Todd’s presence again.

Yet as many Saturdays passed and you grew closer, neither of you realised the love you both shared for each other. As you both sat under the tree writing poetry about your muses who were sat right next to each other, you both remained clueless and would do for many more Saturdays until you finally read your poetry aloud to each other and discovered many similarities in the muses of the poems.

Thank you for reading! <3

[lovieku]

GOOD LUCK, BABE! #1 ⋆ 정국

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 10.4k +

☾ warnings: female oc named eunbi. explicit language. alcohol consumption. lots of flashbacks. mentions of menstrual cycle. misogyny (not jk). jk is one year older than eunbi. jk is a biker!! he doesn’t have tats and piercings though, that will come later. they’re currently in uni. jk is a film production student. eunbi is a literature student. awful abuse of italics. check masterlist for more!

☾ author’s note: hello!!! this is my first time doing this so please bear with me! english is not my first language so there might be some mistakes, if so please let me know. just in general, feedback is very appreciated :) as i mentioned, i never posted on tumblr before nor wrote an au in english so im kiiinda nervous about this… but i swear ill try to bring my idea to life in the best way possible and i wont make you regret reading this hehe… Also!!! each chapter is named after a song that reminds me of them <3 i hope you come to love eunbi and jeongguk as much as i do, maybe with time… thank you !

indexㅣnext

one ⋆ come back to me

Sitting across the table, he stares at her. The light of the twenty birthday candles reflecting in her eyes, the people surrounding her, his own friends. As she’s blowing out the candles, he wonders what she wished for. Does she ever wish to go back in time? Does she think of him, of what once was? Does she regret what happened? Jeongguk scoffs at his own thoughts, looking away from what’s in front of him. It makes his blood boil. How could she just forget?

“Did you even wish Eunbi a happy birthday?” It’s Dahye blocking his line of vision now. He looks up from where he’s sitting, pout on his face and eyebrows slightly furrowed, “Why would I? Would she ever do the same for me?” She would. Jeongguk knows he’s being petty, but he can’t help it.

His friend rolls her eyes, unspokenly conveying just how tired she is of this constant snubbing between Jeongguk and the birthday girl, “So you came to her party to do what? Sit here and burn holes into her skull? Fucking grow up Jeongguk, you’re being childish.” She forces him to get up, but as he does he’s not sure he can handle this whole situation for much longer.

Everyone is hugging her, but it all feels so fake. Her smiles and squeals directed to everyone else but him. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, doesn’t wanna be part of this farce. He feels out of place with his own people. Why did she have to ruin this one thing he had created? Why did she have to be so likeable to everyone? He can keep lying to himself, arguing that there’s no actual reason, but he knows first hand that it doesn’t take much to become fond of her. She could be spotted in a million people. She’s effortlessly glowing, radiating the light of a thousand stars, and the light burns everything. It burns his eyes, his skin, his heart.

Jeongguk has to look down at his hands as he squeezes them into fists, trying to make sense of what’s happening. He’s letting anger take over, but he knows deep down what he truly feels is sadness. Helplessness, even. He looks up just to find her staring back at him, and is he reading hope in her eyes?

He needs to get out. Being in her presence isn’t healthy for him, especially on what’s supposed to be her day, her night. He can keep being resentful, but he knows he doesn’t want to ruin that for her. Walking away from the table, he reaches the backdoor of the pub and searches for a cigarette in his jacket. Stress is clouding his mind and he just needs to relax. Breathe.

In his pocket, he doesn’t only find the pack of cigarettes he’s now desperately trying to open, but also a reminder of how delusional he truly is. Jeongguk stupidly thought he could maybe muster the courage to go up to her and give her a little gift, just a sign of politeness, he thought to himself as he fished it out of a forgotten memory box. He knows ever since they saw each other again they’ve been acting petty. Purposefully ignoring each other as if nothing ever was. He thought he could at least put an end to this. Hand her a bracelet he still keeps from their childhood as a request for a truce.

Jeongguk shakes his head and scoffs. He feels crazy. Insane, even. Is he really the only one thinking so much about how weird this whole new dynamic between them is? He knows they haven’t seen each other in years, of course things have changed, but why is she acting as if he is at fault? As if he’s the one who should apologise? He fumbles with the cigarette and struggles to keep it still in his mouth. Just then, he realises he doesn’t have a lighter on him.

”Fucking hell,” he looks up, maybe searching for help, talking to something greater than him. “Why do you hate me, God?”

”Bad day?” Jeongguk startles. He knows that voice. Turning around, he guessed exactly who it belonged to. She takes out a lighter and puts it between them, waiting for him to take it. Such a small gesture seems to mean infinitely more.

”Uh, thanks.” Jeongguk is aware of how pathetic he sounds right now, voice small and low. “Um, happy birthday. I guess.” I guess? What the fuck?

Eunbi chuckles, amused by the way he’s acting. He swears that makes him even angrier, he feels like fucking screaming. “Thanks. We’re eating cake. Come back there when you’re done?” She stands there a few more seconds, just staring at him. She expects Jeongguk to say something, anything. Even give her a smile, a nod of his head. None of that happens.

With her hair styled in a half ponytail, perfectly tied at the back with a white bow, she nods to herself and walks away, leaving the lighter in Jeongguk’s hand. He’s left speechless. That’s their first proper interaction after years. That’s all they could say to each other. He feels the hole in his chest, that he had managed to almost fully close, reopen at such a rapid speed, and he feels the urge to get out of that place immediately. Like hell he’s going back there.

Cigarette long forgotten, Jeongguk throws it somewhere in his jacket’s big pockets along with the lighter, and tries to make himself unnoticed while he frantically searches for the exit. Why the fuck are there so many people out drinking on a Monday night?

He feels bad for leaving his friends without any warning but he’s afraid one more second here could cause permanent damage to his brain. There's no point in staying any longer whatsoever.

“What a fucking waste of time.” Muttering to himself, he pushes the door open and walks ahead, keeping his head low while fishing for his bike keys in his jeans.

“Jeongguk?” Of fucking course, he thinks as his eyes close for a second, searching for the little patience he had left. Eunbi’s voice fills the much quieter parking lot outside the pub, the sound echoing and making him stop in his tracks, helmet already in his hands as he turns around.

“You're leaving?” If he didn't know her (and he would argue he actually doesn't anymore) Jeongguk would think there's a cloud of sadness in her voice. He slightly shakes his head and looks behind his shoulders. Scratches his head. Anything to escape what is happening.

“Yeah, it's quite late. I have a 9 a.m. tomorrow. Don't wanna miss it.” He's lying. He doesn't have lectures on Tuesdays, and even if he did, he's no stranger to skipping classes. He doesn’t care if the girl knows all about his ways. Hell, being in the same uni friend group doesn’t actually allow to really avoid seeing each other every fucking day of the week.

“Right,” she nods, kicking the pebbles under her feet. He notices she chose to wear Converses even under the flowy white mini dress she has on, and they still look like she never cleans them. Then she hesitates, “Wait a second? I’ll bring you a piece of cake to take home. It's your favourite, double chocolate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even give her a nod of his head. The birthday girl looks like she’s waiting for it though, some sign of reassurance. She’s left with none of that again, and figures she should be as quick as possible to avoid Jeongguk leaving without knowing she truly appreciated him being here.

He scoffs at the sight he catches a glimpse of through the pub’s window, the girl frantically recovering a piece of the dessert she claims she knows it’s still his favourite — it is. At that, he almost thinks of waiting for her. Almost. He doesn't, his petty nature taking over. He hops on the bike, helmet on, revving the engine to finally get the fuck out of there. No waiting, no warning. After all, it's not like she'd ever warned him before disappearing.

Jeongguk feels absent for most of the ride back to his cramped rented flat. Dissociated. Mind full of thoughts (and maybe regret) but body so relaxed and at ease because of the gentle summer breeze brushing his skin. It’s nights like these that take him way back, places in his brain that he’s sick of visiting. Jeongguk actually doesn’t remember a lot, doesn’t keep on too many memories of his past. Instead, he thinks he’s probably cursed with having every moment with her carved in his head, from the first time he saw her to the last.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Mom, I'm going outside!” A ten years old Jeongguk rushed down the stairs, hands full and voice shaking with excitement. Once again, he gathered as many toys as he could and his trusted camera to go play outside the porch.

Laying on the sofa, his mom was concerned Jeongguk would fall with how eager he was in his movements, “Alright baby, stay off the road though!” The apprehension was short lived, the woman letting a sigh out of her mouth, knowing taming little Jeongguk was mission impossible.

Nonetheless, Mrs. Jeon had always believed her son to be very intelligent for his age, both academically and emotionally. He had already developed a great sense of responsibility and empathy, especially towards his peers, so she never once doubted his actions.

On the other hand, Jeongguk felt a sense of loneliness. Being an only child during summer meant many things, one of them being the fact that he was bound to be alone most of the time since schools were closed. And so he would do what he liked the most. He would go out and film.

Usually, the subjects were his own mother, or father. But sometimes he enjoyed making scenarios on his own, pretending to be a great director and moving his actors — his toys — however he wanted, “One, two, three… action! We're rolling!”

His passion for photography and movies had grown increasingly over the past year, also due to him finding his new favourite thing ever in an old box of his dad, a Samsung SCD71.

As Barbie was about to finally kiss Ken under an imaginary stormy downpour, which Jeongguk was trying to make as believable as possible, a sudden noise had completely obscured the microphone of the camera, probably making the recording unusable. “What’s going on…” Jeongguk directed the camcorder towards the origin of the annoying sound, and through the lenses he caught sight of a moving truck that had just parked on the road. More specifically, it stopped in front of the house next to his, which he had learnt to be empty. Up to that day, apparently.

Curiosity had always been one of the most striking and dominant aspects of Jeongguk's personality, which he probably got from his dad. Camera hanging around his neck, he got up, hopped the fence and got closer to the truck, still careful not to get on the road, just as his mommy had advised him.

Jeongguk came closer, spotting a girl about his age carrying a box double her size. Her voice could be heard, even if suppressed by the weight of those items, “Mom, why do I need to carry these things, they're so heavy!” The girl whined fruitlessly, her mom going on about how she was just being dramatic, “Eunbi, just leave it on the porch and your dad will take care of it.”

To Jeongguk, it didn’t look like the kid was being dramatic. Those boxes seemed hard to even pick up. He bit his lip deep in thought, so much he didn’t even realise his feet moving on their own and getting even closer to the scene. Before he knew it, he asked, “Do you need help with that?” He felt the urge to lend a hand, just because that was in his nature.

The little girl was startled, almost losing balance at hearing a stranger’s voice directed at her. She couldn’t see who it was because of the box limiting her view, but she figured it didn’t belong to someone much older than her. When she put the carton down, she got confirmation that she guessed right. Still, her first instinct was defensive, “Huh? Who are you? And no, I don't need any help, thank you.”

It was Jeongguk’s turn to be startled. Initially left speechless, he tilted his head at being rejected when he was just trying to be nice. No problem, he’ll try again, “Oh, okay but… you were just saying the box is heavy?”

The snappy girl furrowed her brows, seemingly much mature for the age she was showing, “Yes, but that doesn't imply that I can't carry it.” Arms crossed, she looked proud of the reply she came up with, but really was just waiting for her dad to do something about the weighty box.

Tilting his head to the other side, Jeongguk reminded the girl of her little black poodle she had to leave back in her old town with her grandma. Big brown eyes and long hair, the boy pouted in thought, “Im- imply? What's that?” What can he say, he had always preferred scientific subjects.

“Whatever.” Eunbi — was that her name? — looked around in hopes to find her parents, who were inside, busy unboxing the most important items to get the long process of moving out started. When she stared back at the boy, she sighed, “I guess you can help me.”

Jeongguk chuckled contentedly, suddenly very pleased with carrying heavy things for a girl he didn’t even know. “What’s your name?” He tried to make conversation while they both went back and forth with the cartons, a silent competition between them on who was faster.

”I’m Song Eunbi… you?” Both too tired to keep carrying other stuff, they sat down on the stairs of the door to her new house, which she didn’t seem that excited about.

“Oh, I'm Jeon Jeongguk, I live next door. I came here because of the noise, heh.” He smiled a big one, showing his teeth and almost fully closing his eyes. That caused the younger one to smile too, starting to let her guard down. With the boxes out of the question, she noticed a big object hanging around his neck, “Woah… what’s that?”

She reached to touch the Samsung camcorder but he was quicker, grabbing it and tugging it to his chest in a protective manner. The pigtails girl retracted her hand, a slow pout coming on her face but not fully developing, because before that could happen Jeongguk had recovered with a jolt of his head, “Sorry, don’t like people touching it. It’s a camera. I use it to record and stuff. You wanna see?”

Eunbi didn’t reply, wary of the device in Jeongguk’s hand, and she just watched him maneuver it as if it was his job. When he gasped, she returned the attention to his face, “It was still recording. Forgot to turn it off…” He seemed more as if he was muttering to himself, but then he also shifted his gaze towards her.

Lifting the lenses up to his face, Jeongguk pointed the camera towards his — hopefully — new friend, “Do you wanna say hi?” He zoomed in and out, focusing on the background then on her. “Huh… hi.” She smiled sweetly and the boy remained on that view for more seconds than necessary, before ending the recording.

The initially grumpy girl seemed to share that same curiosity that characterised Jeongguk so well, because she eagerly started asking the older kid questions about the camera, and he easily complied.

They spent the next two hours watching Jeongguk’s self-directed short movies, in which Barbie was always somewhat saved by Ken; and then Eunbi was so inspired by that, she tore open her toy box and instructed Jeongguk just how to direct the sequel of one specific film he had showed her.

His mom was scared, to say the least. Opening the front door to call Jeongguk for dinner and not instantly seeing him. Panic, panic, panic. None of that was occurring in Jeongguk’s head, though. He was so excited to have new toys that he could use to fulfil his director dream, and Eunbi seemed happy too. Together, they created the most original stories that the only child could surely have never come up with on his own.

When Jeongguk thought he heard his mom’s voice, for the first time throughout those endless hours he lifted his head up from the camera. “Baby! Oh, thank God, I was so scared.” His mom came rushing towards him, holding his head to her chest.

Toys dropped to the ground, Jeongguk looked at his mother and the clear height difference made him also aware of how dark the sky had turned compared to when he first walked out his door.

“We were just about to come around!” At that exact moment, Eunbi’s parents walked down the stairs of their porch to greet Mrs. Jeon, “Our pleasure, you must be Jeongguk’s mom?”

The mentioned lady only nodded her head, anxiety still struggling to leave her body after thinking she just lost her only son. “I am… Um, I’m sorry about him,”

”No, don’t even!” Eunbi’s mom interrupted, “He’s been nothing but a sweetheart. We would love to have him, you and your husband over for dinner this week. We just moved in and it’d be nice to make friends.” She admitted, slightly embarrassed that her flow of thoughts made her say that out loud.

While the adults were sharing adults-stuff talk, Jeongguk managed to escape his mom’s embrace and go back to his new friend. He pointed the camera to himself, “I’m sorry, my dear public, but the movie has been interrupted.” Jeongguk announced with the saddest voice, looking over at Eunbi who nodded just as dramatically.

Now with the lenses on her, she sighed, “Yes, sadly. Will Barbie save Ken from the zombie apocalypse?” She sounded genuinely upset they didn’t get to find out, “I guess we’ll never know.”

They did find out. Made another four sequels that summer. Jeongguk will forever hold that to his heart as the best he’s ever had, the first time in his 10 years of life he spent the scorching season with a friend by his side, making the heat and the boredom bearable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Are you even listening to me?” Jimin looks at Jeongguk, annoyance clear on his features when he notices the younger one isn’t paying attention to his rant about cafeteria prices being ridiculously high. They had decided to try and get some assignments done in a coffee shop that had just recently opened, but actually ended up talking about anything but university. Jimin waves a hand in front of the brown haired boy’s face, “Earth to Jeongguk?”

The mentioned boy shakes his head, lifting it from the palm on which he was resting his cheek, “Huh? Sorry, what was that?” Jeongguk hadn't meant to space out, but lately it seems like it's been easier to get lost in his thoughts. Jimin's eyes soften visibly as he sighs.

“It was nothing important,” now that the blonde guy has his friend’s attention again, he thinks of shooting the question he’s been careful about asking. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to come out tomorrow evening. The whole group is going.” Hope fills Jimin's voice and he forces his biggest smile, knowing convincing Jeongguk to go out these past weeks had been close to impossible.

Jeongguk studies his best friend’s face, squinting his eyes suspiciously, “Is she gonna be there?” Such a simple question completely shutters the already minuscule hope Jimin had left.

Still, the blonde head tries to act unbothered, “I did just say that the whole group is going too.” He searches for the younger’s eyes but it looks like he’s already set on a firm answer.

“Then no.” Jeongguk replies, his eyes low on the table, picking up every uninteresting detail he can catch. He knows there’s no actual reason for him to reject Jimin’s invitation. He also knows it’s been a while since he started being this difficult over simple matters he wouldn’t have stressed about months ago. What he doesn’t know is since when he started feeling like he doesn't belong among his own friends. Or better, he does, yet he doesn't want to acknowledge it.

The older of the pair sighs, fixing his hair and trying to find a solution to his friend’s sudden change in demeanour, “You know, you really should talk to her. Sort this thing out between you two.” His voice is careful, almost too delicate. Jimin had always been a big advocate in the truce between the two, if there had even been a war to begin with, yet never managed to make Jeongguk reason with him.

No matter how gentle Jimin was trying to be, he still gets an unwanted reaction from the other man, who now crosses his arms on his chest and furrows his brows. “Oh, so I should be the one to talk first. Why can't it be her? No one ever thinks of the way I’m feeling.” Once again, Jeongguk is being unreasonably difficult. He hates the words he chooses as soon as they come out of his mouth.

Jeongguk knows his friends deeply care for him, especially the one in front of him. They had been glued together since the day they met, now even sharing an apartment. They weren’t totally compatible for multiple reasons, but that’s probably why they became so close. They both added elements that were missing to each other and created a smooth dynamic, a connection able to transcend many barriers.

That’s why Jeongguk knows he can be as childish as he wants, because Jimin will always find the right words to put him in his rational mind again, “Guk, what I’m trying to say is… This is genuinely not healthy for you. You’ve been stressing so much over this and detaching yourself from the others.”

The brown haired boy keeps eye contact with his friend now, no longer escaping confrontation. He’ll admit he’s tired of running. Jimin really hopes his eyes can help his words convey how he feels about this, “They’ve asked me if you’re okay, you know. They noticed. They miss you when you’re not there.”

Hearing this makes Jeongguk bite his lip and look away in thought. He’s never been like this. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be like this. Feels terrible knowing his friends have probably interpreted him being more absent in a completely wrong way. No one else knows about the real reason, except Jimin.

He feels stupid when he realises just seeing her again had taken such a toll on him, when really he loves being surrounded by his people. The people who have been by his side this past year, who made university bearable, with whom he finally felt like he belonged somewhere. Now, one of them is in front of him, trying anything to get him to say a simple yes, “C’mon? It’s gonna be fun, we can just be on our own if you w-“

“Jimin. It’s okay. I’m coming.” He doesn’t know if it’s an impulsive decision, but seeing the incredulous smile on the blonde guy’s face makes him not dwell too much on what he just agreed to.

Jimin scoots his seat closer, putting his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders, “Really? You’ll come?” Seeing the other boy just nodding at his questions, he makes a sound close to a squeal and claps his hands, “It’s gonna be so fun. The best party we’ve ever been to. I promise!”

The younger one just laughs while Jimin goes on about how he has to update the group chat on Jeongguk’s presence and, “Should we plan our fits? I was thinking of wearing that shirt Hobi lent me that I never gave back.”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely surprised that his presence could lift Jimin’s spirit up so much. He has been too harsh on himself ever since she made her appearance, thinking it wouldn’t make a difference if he was there or not for the others. Fuck her. Those are his friends too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As soon as he heard the house phone ring, he picked it up. There could be three possible people calling: his aunt, his grandmother, or Eunbi. Guessing by the time displayed on his computer, it had to be the third. With how much the two of them spent talking over the phone (even if they lived next to each other) Jeongguk had asked his mom to get him a desk phone of his own, so it could be easier to call.

Pausing the game he had been close to finishing, he moved the device to his ear, “Hello?”

“Jeongguk…” Noises close to sobs could be heard on the other line, making the boy worry. It was definitely his neighbour’s voice, but something about it was not right.

With his eyes unconsciously wide open, making them bigger than they already were, he got up from his seat on the desk, “Bee? Everything okay?”

Silence was what he was met with initially, until he could hear sniffing and shuffling, “Huh… I don’t know. I think I got the… thing.”

At that, Jeongguk slowed down. Panic slowly left his body, which automatically sat down again on the chair. The boy almost didn’t consider a very important feature characterising his best friend: her being totally over dramatic about anything slightly outside of her usual routine.

If one single hair was out of place; if someone didn’t agree with her; if Jeongguk picked Toad instead of his usual Luigi in Mario Kart. Little meaningless actions that could get Eunbi to either yell, cry, or both.

When anything of the sort would get that reaction out of the girl, Jeongguk would do the most to be an absolute menace and make it ten times worse, just because he enjoyed bickering with her.

However, he knew not to do that in situations like these, when he didn’t know if she was genuinely hurt and needed some sort of comfort, protection. That’s why he did his best to understand the situation, “What… thing are we talking about exactly?”

“I… This is disgusting. But my parents are out, I’m home alone, and,” she sobbed “I need diapers but like, for women.” Another hiccup escaped her.

The boy on the other side didn’t know how to react. Had a vague idea of what could have happened but wasn’t that confident to assume, “What the heck are you talking about.”

“Jeongguk! Just get me those things and come here!” The line got cut abruptly and for a second Jeongguk sat there, just listening to the endless beeping. It resembled what was happening within his brain cells. Think, think, think.

He was pretty sure he saw his mother buying diapers-like stuff, came across them a few times in the bathroom. Knew every time she complained about pain, his dad automatically went out to buy those for her; figured it’s what Eunbi needed and begged for.

Putting the phone down, he sprinted to the upstairs bathroom, glad his parents were still downstairs, probably watching those game shows they love, assuming from their laughter. Which is also how he thought they would react if they saw him digging through his mom’s drawer looking for pads.

He found two types, “Why do they make one for day and one for night…” As he inspected them, he figured he should bring both and let the pained girl try them on or something. Do they go by size? This is weird.

Jeongguk took everything he could find and put it in his backpack, hurriedly going down the stairs and just then realising he had to come up with an excuse to his parents’ questioning eyes.

“Huh… Eunbi wanted to show me a new game she got. I’ll be back in a few.” He nodded enthusiastically, more to himself for being so quick on the spot, and rapidly exited the door before anything his parents said could stop him.

When he rang the doorbell, the first time wasn’t successful. He unconsciously bit his lip and tried again, worried something might have happened. With his finger hovering over the buzzer for a third time, the door suddenly opened and a messy haired Eunbi pulled him in.

“This is insane. I’m only eleven. This can’t be happening, Gguk. I used Dad’s computer to look this up and it’s saying this comes every month. Every month!” His back to the door, the boy was held hostage by his babbling best friend on the verge of a serious crisis, “This is the end of m-“

“Jesus Christ, stop.” Jeongguk put his hands on her shoulders, trying to get the scared girl to stop panicking, “I got what you need. They’re called pads, by the way. Also, why do I know more about this than you?” The older boy knew he shouldn’t be pissing off his already very pissed off neighbour, but he can’t help it. Loved making fun of her.

Still, with Eunbi’s voice being surely audible even from outside the house, yelling at him for disrespecting her, he took out the women-diapers and handed them to her, “Listen, I’m not sure how these work. I can look it up online, if you w-“

“No, oh my god. You don’t wanna see what I saw. I’ll figure this out.” Tugging the five packs of pads to her chest, she nodded confidently. She rocked on her heels, lifting her shoulders up and then down releasing a long sigh, almost as if she was waiting for something else. Jeongguk exchanged her (not so) convinced nod, not sure what else to do, “Huh… Okay, go.”

“Yes! Right,” Nodding again, this time repeatedly, she turned around. Not even one step in, she spinned to face the older boy again, embarrassment dancing on her cheeks, “Um… actually, stand outside the door?” She smiled her sweetest one and, without waiting for an answer, dragged him to the bathroom door, closing it to his face but still talking through the whole thing, oh, I think it fits like this; no, maybe like that. This doesn’t feel so bad. Just sticky. Jeongguk wasn’t sure this was what he agreed to when becoming friends with a girl.

Twenty minutes later, the newly menstruating girl came out of the room, looking up at her best friend. He was glad something different was now showing on her face, something close to relief, “I feel better, Gguk. I feel like this is a new beginning,” which was followed by her endless ranting — review and all — on this new experience. She couldn’t believe she shared her first period with Jeongguk. Heck, Jeongguk couldn’t either.

“Why didn’t you just call your mom?” With a movie playing in the background, only after an hour of looking up “menstrual cycle” online, he genuinely wondered why he was the one there instead of her mom or one of her girl friends.

By the looks of it, Eunbi didn’t take the simple question that well, “I get it, you hate me, you think I’m annoying and-“

“God, you get what I mean when I say you’re over dramatic?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That version of Eunbi feels much closer to the one that’s in front of him right now, turned around and waiting in line to get inside the club all their friends decided to go to together. After agreeing impulsively, there was much rethinking on his side, but Jimin would keep begging him to just come, it’ll be a fun night.

Sure. There he is. Not even in, and already hating every second of it. It was not only because of her, Jeongguk just didn’t get the hype around dancing for hours and being suffocated by other sweating drunk bodies. To be completely honest, he dreaded these places. Now even more, having to witness Eunbi fighting with random men that take pissing people off as a hobby.

The worst thing that could happen to her already over dramatic personality is being joined by the origin of drama itself, Dahye. The latter is actually the reason why the now yelling girl became part of his friend group. In the middle of last semester, she had to look for a roommate and fate wanted her to be the last person on earth he wished to see again, especially in Seoul. However, they instantly kicked off and she got introduced to the others, which also included Jeongguk. Imagine his face when he saw her.

Everything led to this moment though, with Eunbi and Dahye entertaining the dumb, probably already drunk guys over an even dumber argument, “How are you judging me for drinking a Sex on the Beach when you literally reek of beer, the worst beverage on earth.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s glad or not that the girl didn’t lose her blabbering tendencies, the little kid inside him enjoying the bickering and seeing her worked up over dismissible issues. However, no matter if she’s discussing cocktails or science, he feels like keeping his guard up high this time, just because these men don’t look like they have the best intentions, and he doesn’t want anybody to get hurt. Anybody.

He’s proved right when they emit the ugliest laughs at Eunbi’s claims, with one of them getting almost all up in her face, which Jeongguk doesn’t like at all. He takes a step further, securing a safer spot behind the girls in case something happens and he has to intervene. You never know with the two roommates, it’s not the first time they’ll be causing a scene. It’s not because he cares about the shorter girl. He’s just worried about her potentially getting the group kicked out. Yeah.

Licking his lips, the bald guy (not even an inch taller than the girls in flat sandals) squares the Sex on the Beach girl up and down, doesn’t look like he’s close to letting the stupid fight go, “Let me guess, the cocktail, those shoes, the attitude… You probably study some dumb shit like Psychology, huh?”

Such a meaningless statement gets all his minions to laugh, patting his shoulders and making more comments amongst themselves. Dahye rolls her eyes, unamused by the whole act, “That’s not the outrage you think it is, babe.”

That only gets the drunk men to laugh more, Jeongguk squeezing his fists for a second and instantly reading the look on the other angered girl’s face, knowing she’s probably ready to turn this into the worst night of every present person’s life just for the sake of her degree’s reputation.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. It’s Literature, you dickwad. You know, you're single-handedly making engineers’ notoriety even worse than it actually is.” Jeongguk knows there’s no stopping Eunbi, but he wishes he could right now. He’s glad the girl is able to stand her own ground, but is also afraid this may end horribly.

The counterpart of the diss seems taken aback, his two brain cells struggling even more because of the alcohol in his body, “How do you know I’m an engineer?”

Having it served on a silver plate, the girl in her short dress smirks, “‘Cause you look like a fucking dick.”

The men feign their surprise, the guy that mainly entertained the conversation saying something along the lines of Wanna see?, pointing at his down area and snickering, while his friends act like he’s the absolute peak of comedy.

Jeongguk has to clench his jaw, not at all pleased with how the situation is escalating. He knows Eunbi can handle such stuff, but he swears he’s one more comment away from stepping in.

On the other hand, she doesn’t seem to mind, not even thinking of backing up and showing the guy her pointer finger and thumb almost touching, indicating the guy’s size. Jeongguk slightly smirks. Then immediately wipes that off his face. He doesn’t find her funny.

“You know, this is the third time you end up talking about my dick,” the bastard is getting closer to his friends, and Jeongguk hates that. “You’re funny, you just need to be disciplined.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, Eunbi doesn’t hesitate to invade the guy’s personal space too, holding eye contact, ready to literally throw hands if not for Dahye quickly catching her arm to move her away.

The bald head scoffs, before adding the filthiest shit his misogynistic limited mind could come up with, “If you ever need this engineer’s dick when whatever you’re studying leaves your ass on the sidewalk, you can come suck it for a couple of wons.”

Jeongguk sees absolute red for a second. He’s had more than enough now, putting a hand on Eunbi’s shoulder before anything more than an incredulous gasp could leave her mouth. He makes himself noticed, not that it was hard with his taller figure, taking matters in his own hands, “What the hell is your problem, man?”

When the mentioned guy diverts his eyes from the girl he just degraded and moves them on Jeongguk, he takes a step back. Still, he doesn’t stop his dirty mouth from running, “Shit, is she already busy with you? Sorry, man.”

His group laughs at that too, and the taller boy unconsciously squeezes his hand on the girl’s shoulder, clenching his jaw. “You’re fucking disgusting. Get the fuck out of here before I make you.”

What his eyes convey is definitely stronger than the words he lets out, wishing he could destroy every bone in the guy’s body, who now knows to stop being so smart. He mutters a few more comments though, making it harder for Jeongguk to not act upon his violent thoughts, “I’ll give you three fucking seconds.”

That makes the guy lift his hands up in surrender and finally turn the other way, distancing himself even from his friends, who don’t find him amusing anymore.

Jeongguk thinks the whole thing is over, but of course he should have trusted his wide knowledge on the fussy girl’s behaviour more, and predicted that she wouldn’t have let it go so easily, “Oh, so now that a man broke in you shut up, huh? Come talk, you little pus-“

“Eunbi. C’mon. We have to get in,” It’s — strangely — Dahye who doesn’t go along with her roommate and instead directs her to the entry, assuring her how there’s going to be no more trouble and just a long night of fun. The other girl just scoffs, too busy looking back at those men to try and get them to react again, but when she’s inside and she loses sight of them she finds her eyes meeting Jeongguk’s, who is directly behind her.

The interaction is awkward, to say the least. She slightly bows at him in recognition, while he just nods and does his best to avoid finding her eyes again, resorting to turning around in search for Jimin, probably way behind with Hoseok.

He’s so thankful when he feels a pat on his shoulder, and looking to his side it’s Namjoon that pulls him into a side hug, “That was tuff, man.”

“Ah, nothing,” Jeongguk nods, adrenaline still struggling to leave his body and not allowing him to relax. He follows his friend’s steps even if they’re going in the same direction as the person he’s now even more than before trying to avoid. He didn’t plan to be this close to her for so long.

“I thought you hated,” the taller guy uses his chin to refer to the girl in front of them. “But here you are defending her.”

The other guy is glad for the loud music playing, the last thing he wanted was for the mentioned girl to hear. He also doesn’t want Namjoon or anyone else to think that was him coming in her defence. It was just common sense. Doesn’t know why he felt like breaking the guy’s nose though. Figures that’s common sense too.

Before he can justify himself, the remaining members of the group reach them, giving Jeongguk the chance to get away from the sight of the girl but still feeling a burning sensation on his tongue. The need to make himself clear.

The chaotic atmosphere is even more emphasised by his already tipsy friends telling him again and again how happy they are to see him here, shaking him by the shoulders with way too much enthusiasm. Now distracted by the earlier incident, he just jokes with them like usual, but he feels a nervous sensation creeping up his neck. With a drink in his hand, he tries to follow the music, but he can’t seem to focus.

When Jeongguk finds Namjoon again, who was already handed a drink by Jimin, he gets close to his ear, replying to his previous insinuation, “I wasn’t- defending her.”

The older guy furrows his brows at him, signalling the conversation being over and certainly not that important, “Sure, man.” Showing his thumbs up, Namjoon scream sings some lyrics at him, Jeongguk still feeling a bit uneasy. He just needed to specify that. He was not defending Eunbi. Well, technically. But Dahye was there too, and she’s his friend. Of course he would have done th-

“Ggukkie!” It’s Jimin’s voice pulling him away from his thoughts, but also pulling him closer to the floor, “I’m so happy you’re here! This is fun, no?”

Jeongguk nods and chuckles at his best friend’s horrific dance moves, just now realising how tipsy he already is but taking it as the opportunity to fully let what happened go.

The rest of the night is unexpectedly fun. He’s surrounded by great energy that his friends keep oozing, and he realises just how much he had missed laughing to the point of his stomach hurting. Shouting when the group's favourite songs came on. Chuckling at a way too drunk Hoseok trying to get him to move his hips a bit more. Of course, he should have predicted his friends’ main goal is to get absolutely shit faced tonight. He isn’t really in the mood for that, though enjoying the state of the others while too much alcohol is flowing in their bodies.

No drinking means Jeongguk’s social battery is running out much faster than the others’, not having enough energy to entertain the constant back and forth between his friends, and certainly to handle them not even needing one single break from the dance floor.

At some point during the endless dancing, he settles on just being by the bar counter, sitting on a stool and taking no more than a few sips from the drink Jimin had given him as soon as he had stepped foot in the club, which was hours ago by now. He doesn’t know why, but alcohol tastes awful on his tongue tonight and it’s a task on its own to even swallow it.

”Can I buy you a drink?” It comes from a silky voice on his right, close enough to startle him slightly before he recollects and takes in the girl looking at his face expectantly. She has soft features framed by smooth blonde hair, completely contrasted by her intense makeup and burgundy mini dress. So far from his type, but Jeongguk entertains it for some reason.

”Well, you stole my line there,” the smile he gives her is gentle but playful and it sets the girl into a fit of giggles, clearly amused by the mysterious dark guy sitting alone by the bar. And that’s exactly what she tells him, ”I had to give it a try, you get me? I love boys that look just like they need to be fixed.”

“That is absolutely ridiculous,” he genuinely laughs, and he’s joined by her. Jeongguk can’t lie, the conversation between them takes off right from the start. It’s a nice back and forth that takes his mind off things for a while, not enough to actually give into her flirty intentions, but enough to eventually move to the dance floor with her. She’s witty and he likes that about her. Abbey? Ashley? He clearly doesn’t like her enough to remember. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

He can’t bring himself to, especially when his line of vision falls right on a tipsy Dahye-less Eunbi next to what seems to be more than one guy. She’s laughing a lot and he’s sure none of what the men are spluttering can be that funny. It’s probably just the alcohol, and that is enough for him to keep him observing. Only to make sure nothing bad happens.

Abbey-Ashley must have noticed his sudden disinterest, and with boldness she wraps her short arms around his neck, bringing him way too close to her face than he had planned to be to any woman this night. The eye contact is uncomfortable, and Jeongguk is itching to keep checking on whatever was happening not too far from him, but the blonde speaks her wittiness again, “You won’t let me offer you a drink and you’re not willing to dance with me, is this how men feel?”

The pearly smile on her face lets him know the setting between them is still playful, so he just shakes his head letting a small giggle out of his mouth. Now with the woman almost hanging from his neck, he resolves on just going along with her moves, and when he steals a glance at the girl he was previously keeping an eye on and sees her staring back he feels a sense of unwarranted satisfaction.

He keeps searching for that, wanting more of that groundless feeling but all he’s met with is more and more flashes of her digging a hole he’s afraid she’s gonna fall in, with the men acting way too friendly and her drunk mind not noticing. Or just not caring.

When the blonde in front of him starts being a little too inclined on taking the physical contact further, he regrets not even finishing his previous and only drink of the night, wishing he could give in but knowing he can’t with his mind thinking way too rationally and being too aware of his surroundings. He genuinely thinks Abbey-Ashley is a nice girl, and he feels sorry knowing he’s going to reject her. Thinks it was kind of fuckboy-ish for him to go along with her knowing they’re on two completely different lines, but still doing it because it seemed like the quickest escape from his running mind.

He gently puts his hands on her waist, intent on moving her away and trying to come up with a reasonable excuse, when he hears his name being called and for the second time tonight, he’s glad Namjoon’s parents fucked. ”Hey, JK- oh shoot, am I interrupting something?”

The smokey eyed girl breaks away from her moment and seems suddenly very interested in hearing Jeongguk’s answer, batting her eyelashes at him in hopes of getting a different reaction from what she knows the evident one is going to be. She did know the brown haired man was not interested; she still figured she could try and change that.

Jeongguk moves his gaze from his friend to the girl and hesitates, “Huh… not really.” He gives an awkward tight lipped smile, thinking this is fucking embarassing, then tries not to read too much in Namjoon’s weirded out expression, “What’s up?”

“Everybody is leaving, Jimin and Dahye already did with Hoseok after throwing up on three sofas.” Namjoon scoffs, rolling his eyes amusedly, “Anyway, see you in uni?”

Jeongguk has a few questions he’s afraid to know the answer to, but still he daps up his friend and then inevitably searches with his eyes for Eunbi, the reason for his worry. He knows Dahye, her usual ride home, will kill him if he lets her roommate wander off with some random men while drunk. Hell, he himself wouldn’t let that happen. He dislikes the girl, but he’s still human.

Jeongguk stresses even more when he sees her directed towards the exit with said guys. He completely disconnects from what the burgundy dressed girl is telling him, only picking up a “Can I get your number, though?”

Maybe it’s his guiltiness acting, or just him wanting to find a quick escape, but he does share his number in surely unanswered hope that she’s going to give up reaching out to him eventually. That does get her to part ways though, not before a sneaky kiss is left on his cheek. He really wants to kill Eunbi.

His next steps are directed towards her, ready to re-enact his previous success at getting rid of those beer stinking misogynists, but he’s left surprised, and in some sense relieved, when he sees her standing alone, arms wrapped around her small freezing figure with her phone to her ear. When he gets closer, he’s able to catch her muttering nasty remarks towards Dahye, so bad that he believes her roommate can feel them right now, in her probably passed out state and all.

”Fucking fuck, why is she not answering,” Before she can dial her number for the fifth time, she spots Jeongguk on her right, and for the first time since they saw each other again in years, she seems glad that he’s there, “Jeongguk!” Her voice is giddy, and he thinks he hasn’t heard his name being said like that in a long time.

Still, he keeps an unbothered act up while standing in front of her, hands in his jeans pockets, “Dahye went home already. I’m guessing she was your ride home.”

Now, he knows she’s overdramatic, but with alcohol flowing through her system that trait of her surely reaches its finite form. She lets out an incredulously loud gasp, mouth hanging and all, and whispers some more insults under her breath. When she still doesn’t reply, he listens more attentively to what she’s muttering and he latches on to her intention of going back home with a taxi, “I have 9,000 won on me, so that will probably do, Eunbi…”

He witnesses beyond belief the girl in front of him giving herself a whole encouraging speech before taking off onto the road, uncareful of eventual vehicles steering on it. That triggers his instinct, yelling her name. It unexpectedly but luckily stops her in her tracks, making her turn around with a not so pleased expression.

Jeongguk can’t believe what he’s offering to do while having to be met with that look on her face. Ugh, brat. “What the hell are you doing? C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

The laugh she lets out is so obnoxious and loud that a few people actually turn around startled, and Jeongguk has to literally sprint over to her, holding her wrist to bring her further away from the road and from the club’s entrance, “Shut up, God,” He whisper yells, while she seems to do the exact opposite.

It luckily stops at some point, but as if nothing ever happened she turns too serious too soon, ”You…” Her finger is pointed at Jeongguk’s chest in what seems to be a menacing manner, eyes narrowed and dipping into his, “You own that loud bike. I’m not getting on it. Not getting on it!” She yells that last sentence, making a scene as if she was trying to break free from Jeongguk’s hold, which he immediately drops, while still trying to get her to be quiet.

The genuinely desperate expression on the boy’s face is enough for her next move to be crouching in half, holding her stomach as unexpected laughter holds her body hostage once again, Jeongguk sighing unbelievably and regretting every single thought of his that led him to follow her outside.

”Can you please- be normal,” Jeongguk actually begs, bringing the girl up and noticing real tears around her eyes, smudging her glittery makeup. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, his expression clearly conveying that annoyment.

”You- You’re too funny,” She giggles, recovering from her sudden fit of laughter, which dies down slowly this time with her emitting a long sigh. The drunk girl shakes her head to herself, retrieving her phone once again and opening the Uber app. Jeongguk is having none of it.

”I’m being serious. I’m not letting you get a taxi at this hour. You’re getting on that loud bike, like it or not.” His firm statement is luckily not followed by chuckles, nor by a witty remark, just her snapping her head up with big eyes staring into his unsurely. He feels like having to deal with an eleven year old all over again, only this time his patience is running thin and he doesn’t feel like waiting.

The girl catches up to him, trying her best to keep up with his pace and following him closely to the vehicle that’s going to be her ride home tonight. She shivers, not only because she’s cold but also because she’s rethinking life choices. Eunbi scrambles to find anything to avoid what was bound to happen, her slow mind trying to come up with a quick escape and not even registering Jeongguk putting his jacket around her shoulders and securing the helmet under her chin, while she almost literally just stands there. “I’m sure-” she hiccups, “I’m sure that blonde girl would love to be in my position right now.”

That is not at all how it was supposed to come out nor sound, the confusion evident on the boy’s face being met with horror written in the girl’s expression. She stutters, “I meant, like- you should be taking her home.”

A part of his brain notes the fact that she was also observing him from a distance not too long ago inside the club, but he leaves that thought for his late night thinking. Right now, he chuckles amusedly, sitting on his bike while adjusting his hair, “Hop on. It won’t kill you.”

The possibility of the bike killing her almost does it for her, until she remembers the other option. Having to pay for an Uber at 4 a.m. while too drunk to even formulate a senseful sentence. In front of her instead, a free ride by no one other than the boy she’s been shamelessly avoiding for no reason, too scared to actually confront him. What a great second option.

Still, she balances herself using his shoulders and gets on the bike, not knowing where to put her hands next. That thought seems to be registering at the same time in Jeongguk’s head, who revs the engine, “I suggest you hold onto me.”

Eunbi scoffs, shoving her straightened hair back in a sassy manner, “There’s no way in hell-“ Her remark is abruptly interrupted by a loud squeal, followed by her arms wrapping around his torso in under one millisecond, with Jeongguk suddenly taking off at full speed.

He laughs a genuine one, and that gets the scared girl pissed beyond hell, yelling in his ear about how she hates his guts with her hands almost close to groping his pecs. Can you blame her? They’re the closest thing she can hold on to right now to survive.

He does slow down, as does his laughter and her screaming, but then as he rounds the club he spots the men who had been bothering Eunbi at the beginning of the night intent on crossing the street. He figures he can play a bit more before actually stopping sabotaging the girl in the back’s health. Just a little something to get back at them for their comments. So, he zooms right past them, cutting their way suddenly and almost probably going over one of their toes, their incredulous yelling and remarks being music for his ears, joined by the girl he’s taking home as she screams more insults at him, looking back at the angered men getting further as Jeongguk drives away.

”Are you trying to take my life?” She’s almost voiceless as she tries to make herself heard over the engine, squeezing Jeongguk’s waist in genuine fear. All she gets back from the biker is a giggle, and a tap on her knee, “Sorry. They deserved it. You can relax now.”

As suspicious as she may have been initially, he didn’t lie. The rest of the ride is pleasant, slow driving while a sweet summer breeze brushes her face and makes her hair flow with the wind. No one dares break the moment, not even at red lights when the only sound that can be heard over the silence is the growling motor. Eunbi is glad Jeongguk knows the way to her flat, having already been there with the others for a few house parties she and Dahye hosted. That means she can just zone out in the back, her head resting on Jeongguk’s shoulders, and right in this moment she doesn’t regret almost risking her life, the sight of the city flashing past her making her forget all about it.

When Jeongguk can feel the grip around his torso getting loose, he taps her knee twice, afraid she might be falling asleep. He’s proved right when that gesture gets her to suddenly shake her head, muttering some noises and tightening her hold around him again. He smiles, ”We’re almost home, don’t fall asleep on me.”

Indeed, the sight of her building comes to view shortly after, Jeongguk stopping in front of it and waiting for his backpack to get off the bike. When she does, she stumbles slightly, seemingly gaining consciousness of her surroundings again. Jeongguk notices she completely wrapped herself in his leather jacket, figures she was probably freezing to death in that short dress of hers. Thinks it’s a cute sight. Regrets having a brain right after.

Said cute sight struggles to take off the helmet, Jeongguk itching to help her, but she succeeds unexpectedly without any help. Still no word being uttered by any of the two, with her hair a tangled mess, she gets close to him and repeats the same actions Jeongguk did to her earlier, handing his jacket back and putting the helmet around his head. When she’s done she pats it, then takes a step back.

A simple ride home on Jeongguk’s bike seems to have opened a black hole of unsaid truths, being communicated by their eyes just staring at each other. None of them is ready to voice them out, though. Eunbi clears her throat, pulling the hem of her dress down as a habit, clearly out of embarrassment. Then, she fixes her locks, “That’s very dangerous, you know?”

Jeongguk hums questionly, moving some of his bangs out of his vision and clearly seeing goosebumps rising on the girl’s skin, unsure of why she prefers trying to converse after minutes of silence over warming up in her flat.

“You giving me your helmet and your jacket. What if you hurt yourself?” She keeps muttering some more remarks under her breath, probably slander reserved just for him this time. He can make out a dumbass. What a nerve.

She may be right, though. Without his jacket on, he was only covered by a tight black shirt, nothing on his head to save him from any eventuality he doesn’t want to consider. Still, he clearly doesn’t see why he wouldn’t have preferred to protect her instead of himself, but he doesn’t exactly say that, “If I didn’t do that, you would have been a popsicle by now.”

The girl giggles, proving him right when she wraps her arms around her figure, “So, you do this for every girl? What if one of them gets you killed?”

Jeongguk scoffs amusedly, shaking his head at her implication, but deciding to ignore it, “The only one who got me close to that was you.” He only says that to gain one of her too over the top reactions, and he’s glad when she furrows her brows, hanging her mouth and bringing a hand to her chest. He chuckles, “If anything you should be thanking me.”

The usually over dramatic girl now just nods, taking in the smile on his face and grasping the fact that it hasn’t been directed at her in a long time before this moment. She smiles too, “Yeah, huh… Thanks. For the ride. ‘T was nice.”

Jeongguk figures the wind must have dried up almost all the alcohol from Eunbi’s body, because she seems to be realising, just as he is, how close they have gotten to one another while ignoring the huge elephant in the room, her attitude being way less sassy and picky with this knowledge. Fazed by this sudden but obvious realisation, he only nods.

The girl quickly notices the change in his demeanour and she nervously bites her lower lip, aware their dynamic is going to return to cold stares and unacknowledgement, but still wanting to hold onto this moment even for one more second. “Oh,” her chest jumps in some sort of gasp, realising she still has something else to thank him for, “Thanks for earlier. You know, with those guys. I appreciated it.”

Differently from Eunbi, Jeongguk wants to be done with this pretence already. As soon as he found himself getting too lost in the fantasy of them still being friends, he quickly recovered and put the wall up high again, making the distance between them even farther than it was before. He doesn’t miss the sadness in her eyes when that shift happens, but he also doesn’t want to dwell too much on it, his tone unbothered all of the sudden while his eyes convey a different story, “No problem. Get inside.”

She nods, giving him a tight lipped smile, turning around slowly and making her way to the front door of the building. She expects to hear the roaring of the bike’s engine, but the only sound that can be heard is that of the birds waking up and singing their morning songs.

Jeongguk stays in his spot on the bike until he sees the girl enter the block, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding and then securing the helmet under his chin. Pats it, then immediately retreats his hand. “Dumbass,” That’s his signal he needs to get home as soon as possible and get some sleep, already imagining how difficult such a simple task will be with his mind running a hundred miles per hour. Fucking Bee.

[weirdsht]

LOL HI I HAVE A THOUGHT AGAINNN HEHEHE

Cale and the gang with someone who's a mermaid? They're scared shitless because of the insanity their fellow merfolk are expressing towards creatures that haven't done them anything too big. They can be transmigrated or just simply too self aware of what kind of people they are going to face if they keep meddling with other creatures' affairs with no reasonable explanation.

I love mermaids lol 😞

It can be platonic or romantic. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE 🔥🔥🔥

Out of Their Minds - LoTCF & Mermaid! Reader

notes: thank you for enjoying my fics! I wrote something more lighthearted this time because I'm realised I kept writing angst. Low-key wanna do a pt.2 of this ngl. Also I know betta fishes live in shallow water but they are the most magnificent fish I have laid my eyes on so I wanted to use them

tags: mermaid reader, male reader (it wasn't planned, i was addressing to reader as a man before I could realise it lol), set after cale heals paseton, paseton/reader if you squint, i made a bunch of bullshit information about mermaids since there isn't much known about them anyways

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Navigation Masterlist Out of My Mind (pt. 2)

Sigh 

“This is what you get for working with shady people…”

You stare at the three mermaid corpses on top of a big rock. It was the middle of the night making the sight more eery. It makes you nauseous. Especially as you notice how one of them is armless.

However, you didn’t pity them.

“Serves you right to be honest.”

You whispered in the corpse’s ear as you sat on top of the boulder. Your mermaid tail swaying against a part of the rock that has no mermaid on it.

“How did you lose your arm though? Did you anger the Whale Tribe so much that they took your arm as a souvenir?”

Looking at the sea you wondered who killed them.

“Maybe it was that ruffian called Archie? But I heard rumours from the fishes that the Whale King will beat him to a pulp if he goes too far.”

Humming in disbelief, you continued talking to the corpse as though they were still alive.

“Hmm, but you guys crossed the line first so I guess doing this much to your bodies is nothing.”

You started thinking about what happened to the mermaid tribe as of late. Some shady organizations came and made a deal with them. You didn’t know much but you heard the organization called Arm was asking for a sea route.

“Wait, it’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? You’re working for something called Arm and you lost your arm when you died.” 

With your index finger pointing out, you tried to poke the cheek of the armless mermaid. But alas you couldn’t do it. Too disgusted at their mummified looks.

“Eww, you all look so gross. Why am I even sitting on top of you all? I’m gonna go back now before that weirdo magic spearman who keeps calling himself my hyung looks for me.”

Grimacing at the thought of the guy who insisted you’re his family now, you tried to get off the boulder you were sitting on. You may be an orphan, but you aren’t desperate to acquire new family members.

Shaaaa

As you try to climb down, you hear a soft splashing sound from behind. It sounds like water being manifested out of thin air.

Wait… Water out of thin air?

That could only mean the Whale Tribe. Not just ordinary ones, but one of the Shickler’s children.

Panicking, you tried to turn around while climbing down. Which only resulted in you falling off the boulder and landing hard on your butt.

“Wait wait wait! Is that a sword? Oh my god, it’s Paseton. Wait no should I call you his highness Paseton?”

Teary eyes and mouth spouting a bunch of nonsense because of panic made the half-blood whale stop in his tracks. Usually, when he encounters a mermaid they would spare no time attacking him.

“Are you about to discard those bodies in the water?”

“What? No way! If I did that those weird people would find me sooner.”

“Weird… People?”

Paseton lowered his sword and you relaxed a little. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand before addressing the whale’s confusion.

“Yeah! You should know about it already. I heard the turtles talking about how the mermaids are haunting you because you found out they were working with humans! Oh, but you don’t seem hurt, good for you!”

You gave him a thumbs-up as if you weren’t on the verge of crying because you fell earlier.

The half-blood whale finds you weird. It looks like you have no intentions of hurting him. In fact, it looks like you’re supporting him?

“...You’re that rumoured eccentric mermaid. Son of the previous mermaid leader.”

“No need to make it sound good. I know the rumours actually call me crazy and not eccentric. But yes that’s me, the crazy orphan whose parents got assassinated by mermaids. They're the real lunatics if you ask me.”

Paseton hesitantly shook the hand you offered.

“But why are you here? I heard you’ve gone missing and the mermaid tribe are worried sick looking everywhere for you?”

“You’re one to talk, I heard your sister is going crazy looking for you too.”

Letting go of his hand, you began to explain what happened.

“You already know about it but the merpeople are getting help from above ground. That was also why they assassinated my mother, the previous mermaid leader. She wanted to straighten out the relationship between our tribe and yours. She also initially refused the offer that the humans made. Look where that got her.“

Because of that you became wanted by the merpeople too. They framed it as looking for the lost heir but what they really want is to capture you to exploit your abilities.

As thanks for not killing you, you explained your special abilities to Paseton. Your poison is three times stronger than normal mermaids. You also possess the ability to heal any poison that comes from water and it’s creatures in it. Another special ability of yours is transforming into a fish. A secret ability that only the direct blood of the true mermaid leader can possess.

“My poison is strong enough to do this.”

Stretching your arms, you demonstrated your poison to Paseton by letting it out on the mermaid beside you. This rendered the already armless mermaid tailless.

“The sight is disgusting each time. Not pretty at all.”

You gag as you watch the mermaid’s tail turn into green goo before it sizzles, leaving no trace behind.

“So what do you think? I was planning on leaving these bodies but I can get rid of them for you. In exchange, you’ll let me be on my merry way.” 

Paseton nodded and you took that as a cue to start disintegrating the corpses with your poison.

“Where do plan to go now?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. The mermaids have gone crazy, I’m too scared to even look at them. Both the whales and the whale tribe won’t leave me alone if they see me because they’ll think I’m one of those lunatics. Maybe I’ll forever transform into a fish and create a fantasy nation and call it Lemuria or something.”

You said it in a joking manner but Paseton can see the fear in your eyes as you talk about the merpeople. At that moment the whale tribe prince pitied you. You have essentially become an outsider with nowhere to run to.

He was about to make an offer when a water whip struck beside you.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about, now a water whip is out to kill me. Wait waterwhip? Witira?!” 

You desperately looked at the man in front of you.

“Hey, I helped you get rid of the bodies right? You said you’ll let me go right? So please explain to your sister I didn’t do anything.”

“What are you doing to my brother?!”

Witira’s angry voice from behind made you look at his brother more desperately. Paseton nodded as he walked towards his sister.

“Noona stop, he doesn’t mean any harm. We were just having a chat.”

“With a mermaid?”

Paseton begins explaining what happened to Witira. From how he gets help from a noble to you helping him get rid of the mermaids. He also explained how you’re on the run from the mermaids and the people working with them.

As Paeston speaks you tried to use their distracted state as an opportunity to go back to the sea.

Keyword being “try”.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You feel the humpback whale half-blood scoop your fish form from the shore. 

“A betta fish huh? You’re quite pretty.”

Good thing you’re a fish so the siblings wouldn’t be able to see you blush. Your fins did shine a little brighter though. Light blue with a red and white undertone that makes you look purple glistened under the moonlight. 

But there’s no way they’ll know that’s how you show being flustered in fish form so it’s good.

“What do you want with me? I already did my end of the deal~”

You whined and flopped around Paseton’s hands, throwing a tantrum. The man only chuckled while his sister watched in amusement.

“Yes, yes. But I want to make another deal.”

That made you stop flailing around.

“Turn back first. The water in my hands is running out, you already splashed most of it out.”

Obeying, you transformed back into your mermaid form. You expected Paseton to put you down then. However, he didn’t and decided to carry your bridal style instead.

He may be the weakest of the whale tribe but his still stronger than most humans.

“So what do you want?”

You crossed your arms, pouting because you lost your chance to make a getaway.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you back with us. You have nowhere to go right? You can just live with us.”

Both you and Witira looked at him quizzically. 

“What’s in it for you?”

“We’ll use your abilities when fighting the mermaids. You also have an information network that consists of sea creatures right? We’ll use that too.”

“Those are my friends, not a measly information network thank you very much. Also, didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m scared of mermaids now. I can’t even look at them.”

“Who says you have to look at them?”

You questioned what Paseton was saying. Meanwhile, Witira observes his brother. She agrees with his plan. After hearing what happened to you and your abilities, she knows you’ll be a useful card.

However, she knows her brother. And she knows that the way he's looking at you means more than what his entailing. He also seems confident that he’ll get you to go home with them before the sun rises.

Hmm, maybe that’s her fault for spoiling him too much…

“You don’t have to face them yourself. You don’t even have to leave the Whale Tribe village if you want. You’ll just have to use your abilities from far away and help us defeat the mermaid tribe.”

“...”

You mulled about it for a few seconds. It’s not like you have anything else to lose as you already lost everything. It is also true that you have nowhere to go. Your sea creature friends can only hide you for so long before you have to run away again. It also doesn’t seem like the humpback whale is lying.

Plus Paseton is pretty cute.

Wait what?

“So I don’t have to face them?”

“No.”

“Will I have my own house?”

“Hmm, not yet but I have a house that’s separate from our family residence. You can live there with me”

“Not bad… You promise I won’t meet them right? Including those crazy people that keep calling themself my new family.”

“I promise.”

“Can you buy me a large fish tank that’s installed in my house?”

“Making demands already? I’ll have a custom-made fish tank and pool, just for you.”

“Okay, deal!”

You raised your arms in celebration, already thinking just how beneficial this whole ordeal was for you. You’ll just have to provide them with your assistance that’s being used for the greater good and you’ll be spoiled as a compensation? Sweet.

Witira only shook her head at your conversation. She could already tell she had a lot to explain to her father once the three of you go home.

Oh well, as long as her brother is happy.

[alessiathepirate]

Until Dawn

A SMALL JOY: Josh Washington x fem!reader

Summary: Taking Dr Hill's advice, Josh and his lover go up to the lodge and look through all the things his sisters had left behind - after an interesting find she does her best to take his mind off the sadness he's experiencing.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

To be honest, Until Dawn is still one of my favourite horror games. Thanks to the game I found my favourite YouTube channel, my English improved a lot because I wanted to understand every word, and I have a huge crush on Rami Malek to this very day. Me and my friends were obsessed with him the time the game came out, and soon started to watch more of his work together.

Josh Washington was one of my first fictional crushes, I could defend him for years without getting tired and I drew him so many times I actually learned how to draw portraits correctly.

There's a gameplay I like to rewatch every year, because of the great memories I have connected to it. I always fall in love with Josh Washington once again - and thanks to that tradition, I started to write for him as well.

Warnings: a bit of swearing, mentioned depression and loss, mentioning the Washington sisters' disappearance and/or death

•••

° "(...) We would come up in the summer and we would have the best time. The whole family was there - mom, dad, my sisters. It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn... I don't know. Can't go back. New reality." °

She listens carefully, noticing every little pitch or drop in Josh's voice as he speaks - and as he puts down the baseball bat all she can think about is grabbing him and pulling him into a hug, a tight one, the kind that is both loving and comforting. She watches him, she examines his every little move and her heart aches every single time she finds a new sign of sadness.

She hates it.

She hates that look on his face. She hates that change in his voice. She hates that he feels alone. She hates that the whole case is making him go crazy. She hates that nothing is certain and he can't even grieve.

She hates that he had to change so much; that he had to become this depressed because of some stupid, messed up prank their friends had decided to pull on his sister.

He didn't deserve any of it. He doesn't deserve any of it. None of the Washington kids do.

Coming up here was already hard - back to the mountain where Hannah and Beth disappeared, where they played around like stupid teenagers do. Dr Hill said it's for the best - Josh needs some closure, some proof that he needs to slowly start to move on. She thinks it's bullshit - Josh thinks so too. It won't be easy to put yourself through something like this.

But regardless, they came. They are here now, looking through the rooms, the basement...

The memories are hurting her - and if she as a friend is hurting this badly than Josh must suffer a lot.

"Teach me." the words suddenly burst out before she can stop them, wanting to make Josh concentrate on something else - not wanting him to get lost in his own mind.

"What?" the question is loud in the basement.

"Teach me how to play." she continues on, feeling unsure like she tries to cross a very thin and sensitive line. "I've never played baseball before."

"It's been a while since I did so." Josh starts to explain, his gaze falling on the bat he put down. "You really- want to?"

She steps closer to him slowly, carefully, as if she tries to get close to a very scared and wounded animal. She touches his arm, her fingers hold him as her thumb brushes along his skin in an up and down motion. She leans towards him, her face touching his shoulder as she presses a kiss to the area what isn't covered by his t-shirt.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." she whispers. "I know it's not-" she holds that thought and says something else instead: "I just haven't seen you play yet and I want to join in."

Josh looks at her over his shoulder, he looks at her as she tries to smile even if her eyes stay sad. He watches her like she's the only thing he has left, like she's the only person who matters anymore. He looks at her and feels something break inside, realizing that she really is the only one who he has.

"All right." he says and when he sees her eyes change a tiny bit - showing a bit of happiness - he feels his heart flutter. It makes him feel better, it makes him want to touch her too, putting his hand over hers - over the one which is still clinging onto his arm. "As long as you promise me you won't accidentally hit yourself with the bat."

And there's what he wanted to see - her expression changes, playful offence takes the sadness' place and she gently hits his back.

"Hey! I wouldn't do that."

"You totally wouldn't." his sarcasm earns him another punch and despite the situation and the place, he feels like he got something back.

The last time they bickered like this was half a year ago, the night his sisters had disappeared. They drank and played around until they started to make out in the kitchen, only stopping when Chris stepped inside the room wanting some booze for himself.

As they climb the stairs hand in hand they both feel somewhat relieved. They found a kind of small joy, a bit of happiness - something what they had left here months ago. Josh chuckles when she trips and almost falls, she feels excited as he hands her the baseball bat outside.

"Since there're only the two of us here, I think it's best I teach you how to hit the ball and not yourself."

"I'm not that clumsy Mister!" she tries to sound offended, but it doesn't work.

"I know you too well, girl; and I don't trust you with that at all."

Josh stands behind her, keeping a gentle hold on both of her arms as he explains how to stand and how to hold the bat. She chuckles when he playfully tickles her and this time she doesn't feel guilty about laughing. Before he lets go of her to throw the ball, he gives her a short hug and presses a kiss into the crook of her neck.

She misses the first time...

and the second time; and the third time...

She misses and Josh laughs and she thinks it's the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.

They change positions after a while and no matter how she throws, Josh never misses - not even once. He hits the ball every single time and it flies and lands far away.

She has the feeling that in that very moment, doing that very thing they both feel somewhat complete. She feels like Josh's smiles are honest, his laughs are honest and she forgets about Dr Hill and his stupid advice.

"No shit you like to play it." she says after a while as the both of them are lying in the grass, her head resting on Josh's arm. "It is fun."

"Believe me darling, it is much more fun when you actually hit the ball." his voice has a teasing edge to it and for a moment she thinks about turning towards him and hitting him playfully once again - but she doesn't.

Instead - hoping to get something more, trying to get a kind of good change out of him, she says: "I will, after a bit more training. You'll teach me, I have no doubt about that."

Josh turns towards her, gently touching her face and playing with her hair. She tries to read his face and she realizes that he understands what she's playing at. She wonders if he'll get upset or sad... but she gets an answer pretty quickly.

"I will - of course I will. You'll be the best player in this damn country."

The muscles in her face twitch and she feels like she'll cry. It's been so long, so long since Josh smiled and laughed that now seeing it again feels like a whole new experience. She doesn't want to leave the place or the moment. It's too nice.

"Better than you?"

"Way better." he promises and lets go of the lock of hair he's been playing with. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She feels frozen at the question and starts to wonder where it's coming from. The doubt in his voice, the softness in his eyes... He deserves the world, he deserves everything in it and he deserves to know that he does enough for her - she feels his love and every single emotion and action it causes.

"Of course I do... I know." she promises. "I love you too. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

It's her turn to lean in and she kisses him, making sure the kiss is soft and calm. She wants to make him feel whole and safe. She wants him to be happy.

They lay back down and stay quiet for a bit, enjoying the sunlight and the light summer breeze. She feels like she could melt. Melt into the feeling and moment forever, without ever getting bored.

"You know," Josh starts suddenly, his voice soft and unsure. "it's been a while since I've taken you out on a date."

"It's fine, Josh. These past months weren't exactly the best."

"No... I know." for a few moments he stays silent, not knowing what to say. "All I want to say is I have a few movies here we can watch and we can have a nice time before we-"

"-go back to them." she finishes, understanding what he means.

Them. All the friends, all the family members and pals who show an annoying amount of pity. All of those people who try to comfort Josh when doesn't want to do anything with them. The people who make him feel worse than better.

"I'd love that." she smiles at him as he turns towards him and hugs him. "But no horror."

"No horror." Josh nods.

It wouldn't be good for either of them.

She kisses his shoulder as they get going, stretching their muscles, before climbing the stairs to go and find the movies Josh was talking about.

As they look over his DVDs while hugging, all she can think about is how unfair life is, because Josh doesn't deserve any of the problems life threw at him...

[copias-juicebox]

i think tobias could turn this into his own kinda thing? Yeah. And i‘m not too sure about the original swedish lyrics but i know the english version lyrics and there‘s a line: „an empire will rise and be the end of you“ which i can‘t help but think about the current situation and last tour being the „re-impera“ tour. They finished the tour with the words „the empire is built“ and now we would be heading to the next step. Which would be either someone ruling it or the empire falling and possibly being replaced by another one.

I understand why Ghost picked Bible as an overtly religious song fitting with their theme but I still think CC Cowboys in their style would have devoured

[sevsdollette]

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49324864/chapters/137713357

content warning: trigger warning for violence against the reader. if mean men in bars freak you out, read with caution. other than that, alcohol, gambling, smoking, and smut (obviously). reader eats sevika out. fingering. sorry if you just want it to be sevika doing shit to the reader, but yk the woman has needs as well.

summary: You go out with Sevika as her gambling date. It’s a calm night at the Last Drop where everything should be fun and easy. But your beauty doesn’t just attract Sevika.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

2. A Long Night at Work

3. A Gamble of A Night

note: tell me why every chapter title has the word night in it. i’m back @-@. so yeah it’s been a minute. hope no one is too mad at me. this one maybe a bit shorter than the others? not entirely sure. also i know this ends with like a cliff hanger, but i promise the next chapter will leave no holes in the time line. you gays will get what you want. sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i wrote most of this on my phone. it’s not like i’m an AP english student or anything (i am :/) also sorry for the format being a bit different. tumblr is pissing me the fuck off right now. i don’t care to fix the spacing between the paragraphs. i’m tired.

————————————18+————————————

The glow of the Last Drops neon sign felt a bit more familiar than before. This time, more than a drink was waiting for you inside.

It was a clear, hot night with busy streets and crowded alleys, and you were wearing a black catsuit with long sleeves and shorts that hardly covered your ass. The zipper down the front was pulled so low the clothes were practically falling off of you.

This time, when you walked up to the bouncer, past the long, impatient line, you hardly had to open your mouth before he was opening the door and letting you in. The groans and hateful stares of the people waiting felt like a crown on your head. You were still scum, sure, but for the night you were important.

On that evening, the bar wasn’t full of screaming patrons and blasting music, but slow, cool jazz. It was their calmest night where the low lamps gave off an orange-red glow on the deep wooden walls, and every shadow seemed comforting. People sat calmly at their tables, passing cards and taking shots. The ceiling hung low with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A sweet smell of booze wafted through the room, making any nasty smell of the people buying the drinks.

In her normal corner booth, Sevika was sitting with four men, cigarette pressed between her lips and cards in her hands. She was laughing lightly as she passed a card into the center of the table. The candle in the middle of the room illuminated her face and curved around her features. Beautiful, you thought, staring at her vibrant eyes.

As you waded through the tables of the room, she noticed you approaching, glancing over as the conversation at her table continued. Keeping an eye on you. You kept your cool, only giving a small smile back as you approached. Men of the bar kept looking up at your figure as you walked by their tables, admiring the way the leather suit curved over your hips and hugged your thighs.

The other men at the table were just as harsh and brutish as Sevika, all with scars over their faces or hands, rugged clothes, and a mean glare. They were younger than her but older than you, and they didn’t seem too friendly when you came up to the table.

One of them, with white blonde hair and a blind eye, wrinkled her nose as he looked you up and down. With a toothpick in his mouth, he questioned, “Who’s that?”

Sevika cleared her throat, looking down at her cards as she drew another from the deck. “I hired her.”

You froze, brow furrowing as your upper lip curled. Your services didn’t involve simple company at a bar. You surely didn’t want to be here if she was going to pay you for it.

She chuckled under her breath, looking up at you. “I’m kidding, doll. Sit down.” She tapped the spot on the cushion next to her.

Apprehensive, you sat beside her slowly. If this night was just going to be her being a bitch, you weren’t going to get involved. You could go back to Babettes and earn your dinner like always. You didn’t need her free food. And her expensive rum. And her perfectly rolled clove cigarettes…

The more you looked around the table, the longer you wanted to stay. You’d seen her and her men around the bar before but never noticed how nice of a night they always had. Each man was sitting comfortably around the booth with either a cigar, cigarette, or drink, lounging as they waited for the game to start. The loud music was slightly muffled, making the table almost cozy and closed off.

They were just finishing a game as you got there, a pile of coins in front of Sevika and dwindling collections by the other players. They were settling bets and getting more drinks, idle conversation as everyone got ready for another round. Sevika shuffled the deck and delt you your own hand.

You were sitting close to her, but just far enough away so you didn’t touch. A distance she would have to choose to close if she really wanted to. Yes, you liked her and wanted her attention, but you weren’t going to devote yourself to her to get it. If she really liked you, she’d take what she wanted.

And it didn’t take her long. As she was puting your cards down in front of her, she smiled and met your eyes. Her gaze drifted down your neck, chest, and down to your lap. She was close, her broad figure looming beside you enough to block your view of three of the men.

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve got something on your neck.”

A heat hit your face as you rubbed the skin under your chin. God, you couldn’t look decent just once. “What is it?”

“Something I left for you.”

Your hands dropped and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and sitting back. The tables was coming back together and everyone was picking up their cards as a waitress came around with more drinks. She had a glass for you and Sevika poured you some rum. The waitress smiled a bit too sweetly at Sevika when she said thank you, and it made you inch a bit closer to her.

You picked up your cards and sipped your drink. Rum was never your favorite, but in this setting, it felt right. Your deal wasn’t the worst, but you;d defitnety have to sit out for the round. You were trying to play your best.

At the brothel, you and your tolerable coworkers would play and gamble during slow hours all the time. Your room was the hot spot where everyone would crown around the coffee table, taking a smoke break, and having good fun. It was never that serious, everyone putting their earrings or hair clips in as prizes only to hand them back at the end of the game. But, there was a skill level that all of you developed.

And you were the best.

You all got through two games that Sevika won. She truly enjoyed it. A sly smile spread across her face as she collected everyone’s coins, only handing you a coy apology and running her hand up your though to make up for it. It didn’t matter to you. Your cards weren’t that good anyway.

Though, you liked the way she got when she was that happy. She was touchy. She would “accidentally” brush her hand over your tit, and she really liked to fiddle with that zipper that rested between your ribs. You’d push her away, saying something about how stupid she was being and how the alcohol was getting to her, and she’d give a boozy smile and turn to shuffle the cards again.

On the third game, you got a good hand. A really good hand. You kept your cool as you saw the empress and her court smiling up at your on the painted card. Every mention of a tell that your friends had mentioned to you ran through your head and you hid every sign. No one would know. You would win.

It took great thought to get through. Early on, Sevika noticed how much more focused you were, and it caused her to keep putting more money on the table. The men all had relatively bad hands except for one, but he backed out after a while, not trying to get in the middle of whatever mental battle you and Sevika were engaged in.

In the end, with the final turn of a card, you had won. With a huge pile of copper in teh middle fo the table, you whooped and bounced in your seat, grinning as you pulled all of the money towards yourself.

Sevika was angry. You could see it in the way she wouldn’t look at you adn how she stared into her empty glass. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut and she was thinking hard, still looking at the coins you’d taken from her. It wasn’t her fault. She hardly knew you, and she had expected you to be moer of an open book then your were. To be truthful, she dind’t know the half of who you were, and that was her fatal flaw.

Part of her still thougth of you as those prissy virgins she usually saw. It was hard for her to accept that she liked someone so similar to her own spiteful nature. She didn’t like it unless you two were naked, apparently.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I let you win.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Shut up.”

A fake laugh tossed itself from her lips and she held her hands in helplessness. “Just trying to be nice. If I beat you every time, you won’t enjoy it so much. There’s no way you can actually win.”

“Sevika—“ You scoffed, shaking your head at her as you wondered why she fucking bothered to say those things. “Whatever. I’m going to get a cocktail.”

She chuckled bitterly as you stood up. “Rum’s too strong?”

You held your middle finger up behind you as you stomped to the bar. Sevika muttered something else under her breath that you didn’t want to hear. The lively jazz that filled hte bar felt so suffocating now as you walked past a betting table thick with smoke. You didn’t need her pouting just because you won. It was supposed to be a fun night. Only a baby cried because they lost a stupid game.

You sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender was a nice but nervous man who must’ve known who you were accompanying. He stuttered as he took your order and nearly dropped the vodka when he went to pour it. He was good at his job though adn your drinks as sweet with an after taste that stung your throat. You thanked him and made soem idle conversation, knowing that Sevika was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You could feel the heat of her anger even from that far away. You planned on sitting at the bar for a little longer, let them play a game without you so she could get a win back under her belt. Maybe then she’d be nicer.

The bartender Thieram was a nice man who made you rlaugh once or twice as you sipped your drink. He was respectful. Most men either didn’t like you or liked you too much. It wasn’t often your found someone who treated you like a friend.

This fact was proven a few minutes later when a man steppe dup to the bar to order a beer. He was probably almost thirty with black hair graying on the sides and a long tattoo down her left forearm. He was ugly. But ugly in a way that some people found very attractive, though the second you stared at him for too long, he looked like an abstract painting.

You only glanced at him for a second before stirring your drink while waiting to talk to Thieram again. He had a deep, angry voice. After Thieram turned away, he stayed at the bar and leaned against it, turning to face you. “You alright, babe?”

You didn’t look up. “Who are you calling babe?”

“Just a pretty woman I see at the bar.” He chuckled. “I’m Leox.”

“And I’m not interested.”

None of your blatant signals got through to him. In fact, he stepped closer. Enough that you could smell the weed he’d been smoking. “Come on. You seemed kinda upset at your table. Why don’t you come and join mine? I’ll treat you real good.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. “I will.”

“Hm,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you pretended to enjoy his flirting. “Well…”

You pushed him away. “I’m still not interested.”

You only did men if they paid you for it.

The firm hand you placed on his shoulder withdrew only slightly before he gripped your wrist in place. For a brief moment your breath caught as he tugged you off of your stool and you were stumbling into him.

He grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled your face up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you just be nice? I know you’re just some whore. I could’ve paid well too.”

You jerked from his grasp, trying to turn around to get free and run out of there. He smelt awful and his breath was hot in your face. His teeth were yellow.

You were able to jam your heel into his toes, making him flinch so you could wriggle free, but as you were getting away, his foot caught under you and you fell to the ground. Your palms took the blunt of the pain as you scrambled to get yourself up.

As you pulled yourself to your feet, a heavy set of footsteps was storming past you and towards the man. In your panic, and with the moment being so quick, you hardly heard what she was saying to him—yelling at him.

You spun around, uneasy on your feet, and only saw their final interaction: Her fist against his face.

Once such a strong, intimidating man crumbled into a heap on the floor. Sevika stood over him, shimmer coursing through her metal arm and heavy breaths moved her shoulders, flexing the muscle. She turned around and you only saw the faint glint of purple in her eyes before she passed you again and ordered her men to take the guy out back. Teach him a lesson, she said.

The bar was silent. The woman humming low jazz was standing shocked beside her accordion player, the other patrons were trying to keep their gazes down, and Thieram was standing helpless behind the bar, terrified. You felt your face get hot as you stepped back subconsciously, your arms crossing and hugging your ribs.

Sevika was done barking orders and came up to you, pulling you back into the private room of the bar. The familiar place almost brought back amusing memories if you weren’t so upset.

She pulled you into her arms, examining you and making sure you were alright. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Shit like that happens all the time to me.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose and looked at the door. She must’ve been pondering whether to go help her men or not, but your hand on hip kept her there.

You two ended up sitting on the couch together sharing a cigarette. You were beside her with your legs rested across her lap and your head on her shoulder. She had her hand gripping your thigh and her metal arm wrapped over your shoulders.

You looked up at her face after a long drag and saw how tense her face was, how she didn’t seem to be moving an inch. Staring off into space with a firm furrow in her brow.

“Sev?” You frowned, brushing her stray hairs off her forehead. “Don’t be so upset. Everything’s okay.”

Sure, you were a bit shaken, but men were always like that to you. It wasn’t right, but it was something you had to get used to. She’d have to understand that if she were to be around you.

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be okay as long as he gets what he deserves.”

You ran your thumb over the muscles of her collar. “Just try to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

You sighed, understand the aggression wasn’t towards you. To be honest, you didn’t feel unsafe at all with her. Even though her eyes still sparkled violet when the lamplight caught it.

“Everything will be okay,” you assured. “I’m fine and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. Relax, dear.”

Again you rubbed her collar and shoulder, your fingers trying to ease any tension she had. You leaned in to place a small kiss under her jaw, and as your lips brushed her skin, she held you tighter against her.

You kissed her neck again, lingering to drag your tongue over her in a way that made her sign and settle into the couch. The action spurred you on and you left another heavy kiss to her pulse point, making sure to leave proof that you did so.

You climbed into her lap and straddled on of her thighs, the right muscle fitting right against your clit. She let you tilt her head back so you could keep up your actions.

“What…”

A sly smile spread across your lips and you kissed below her ear. “Just trying to help you relax,” you cooed, a bit of mischief in your voice as one of your hands fiddled with the top button of her vest.

As you pulled the button free, her hand on your thigh got ever so slightly tighter and you remembered the shimmer in her system.

“Come on, Sev, don’t be so upset. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

You dragged your kisses down her chest, letting more of her buttons become undone until she was helping you pull her arms out of the sleeves and you tossed her shirt onto the other side of the couch.

She looked magnificent, curving muscle winding down her stomach, scars lacing her skin, and her breasts dark and nipples pebbled from the cold.

As you took the moment to admire her, she grabbed your ass and nudged you to keep going. You’d never expect her to be so lenient on letting you have control, but maybe she was trusting you more. Or maybe she just really needed to let some stress out.

Your tongue slid across her chest, lips finding one of her breasts for you to suck on. You twirled your tongue around her nipple, sucking it into your mouth and rolling it around your teeth. She moaned, gripping you hair and letting you grind on her thigh. It was a perfect mixture of giving and receiving, all of her grains sending shockwaves to your core and you reveled in the taste of her.

You wanted to taste more.

As you slid onto the floor on your knees, you dragged you hands down her thighs and then up to undo her belt. She was breathing heavily as you kissed down her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her muscle against your lips. You pulled her pants down with her underwear, wrestling them over her boots and letting them be lost somewhere in the room.

Adrenaline led you to avidly kiss down her thighs, licking over every inch on the insides as you got closer and closer to her core. You could tell her was ready for you, her hand gripped the back of your head, waiting to hold your mouth against her. You moaned as she tugged at your hair lightly, trying to get you to start.

You left a long kiss on her inner thigh, just an inch from her pussy befor turning to begin. Only, you stopped to look up at her flushed face as smile.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sev.”

The compliment was not taken happily. “I swear to god—you and that fucking mouth of yours,” She breathed, her pupils blown as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you don’t like the teasing when it’s the other way around?”

“Just eat,” she huffed, pushing your face into her core.

It was hot and dripping, so ready for you. You lifted one thigh into your shoulder and spread her folds with your fingers. Her hairs were well kept and trimmed, brushing your nose as you dragged your tongue through her, tasting her.

She moaned, pushing your face further into her as you found her clit, flattening your tongue and coaxing over the bud. As you worked her up, you slid your fingers down and circled her entrance slowly, teasing it lightly.

Another heavy groan fell from her as she tightened her legs around your head. You could hardly hear her due to the clamp her thighs had over your ears.

Everything was so intense, the scent of her, the taste, the pressure of her legs, and the ughh grip she had on your hair. All you could do was kiss and lick her clit, enjoying the moment. It was so overwhelming you completely forgot any else that had happened that night.

You flicked her bud with the tip of your tongue, sucking on it as you slid two fingers into her.

It made her tense up and her head fell back over the back of the couch. She was desperate, holding your face so close and gently rocking her hips against your tongue as you fucked your fingers into her.

“Fuck, baby, don’t stop,” she demanded. You could sense her stress waning as she breathed deep and relaxed into you. You circled your fingers against her walls every time you pushed them in, sucking and licking her clit as you did so.

With your other hand, you pulled down the zipper of your suit and reached under the leather to find yourself. All of her heaving and moaning was too much for you to handle. The taste of her alone made you drip. You slid your fingers between your lips, finding your eager, swollen bud and stroking it.

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp and you quickened your pace on both her and you. She was desperate, fucking heralded on your face bc had while you moaned against her clit and sucked. Rapid, intelligible words fell from her lips as she reached her high, curses and praised to you crescendoing into muttering whines as she came.

The pressure of her legs and your fingers rubbing over your clit was enough to get yourself there too. You cried out into her folds, the stimulation making her jerk as she came down from her high with you.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you crawled back up to her lap. She held you, sliding her hands past the unzipped front of your catsuit so she could feel your hot skin.

Your lips met in a messy clash or desperation. She dragged her teeth over your bottom lip as she made her grind your pussy against hers, the overstimulation making you both shudder.

Just as easily as you’d fallen into her kiss, she was pulling away and moving you off her lap. She set you down on the couch as she stood up, grabbing her clothes off the floor and couch to put them back on.

You sat up, anger and panick setting in. Did you do something wrong? “What—where are you going?”

She began to button her vest up, a grin sliding over her lips. “I’m taking you home.”

[goldenshrikecomic]

Hello, this is gonna be a long one and I hope I don't bother you too much with it but you have something great going and and I think maybe some advice for someone like me who wants to do a longer comic and I took heart in that one ask you recently answered were you said you are plenty of pages ahead of the readers to not get paralysed by a deadline which seems like a no-brainer now that I read that with my own two eyes black on white but I had not thought to maybe go about it that way and I needed to have someone spell it out for me apparently. So to my question.. see, I have a skeleton of a story I have key scenes that need to happen and that I want to happen and I am sure in between things will shift and change and grow and a part of me can't wait for it to happen but- How do you start. How do you get going. It is in my head I have some written notes but most is in my head and I do not want it to remain there and rot I want to draw and tell the story I had in mind but I feel.. paralysed on the starting line of this journey and I am unsure how to go from there because my mind gets caught up in estimates of if I post one page a week that is "only" 52 pages. That seems so little. How many years would it take. Can I do this. And then my mind fires up in passion because I am willing to commit I want to do this I need to do this and I have a good idea of how to pace myself and how to go about it. I have the beginning of it on the back of my tongue and the tip of my fingers I can imagine it so vividly I wish I could animate it (if that wouldn't take up even more time and be insane I would) But somehow I still feel stumped on how to start. How to get over this first hurdle. It might be the executional dysfunction playing a huge part in it, maybe I am overthinking to much and stand in my way because of it, but like... How did you start your comic. How did your journey on GS begin? I know this was a bit of word vomit I am sorry but you are an inspiration and you seem to go about things (from what I could gleam from the asks) in a way that feels like it could work for me too and the way my brain functions but I do not know how to start? I dunno if it makes sense I am no english native and my thoughts are hard to put into words.

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while because it's such a loaded question. I have plenty of asks in this tag about my comicing process, so check them out maybe. This reply got lengthy! The more I wrote the more I noticed I feel very inadequate trying to give people tips on making comics. It's such a trial and error process.

I've seen plenty of advice for people wanting to start out comics to just start small, come up with a smaller story to get a feel of it before you go big. And I absolutely understand it in hindsight because I would've done many things differently if I had just tried it out first, but it's not what I did. I wanted to make a big comic, and a big comic I made, as my first project.

I don't think about the years these things take, but it'd absolutely ease your worries if you could come up with a simple style and be able to make pages faster. I've stripped my comic of shading and gotten more lenient with myself when it comes to backgrounds. You absolutely need to cut some corners if you want to make more than one story during your lifetime. It's a limited time afterall! Being able to turn your sketch into a lineart without having to redo everything with a careful hand would help a lot already. And colors, they take a lot of time.

This is not how I went about it in the beginning, but I'd love to tell you to write those things in your head down before you start. Leave holes, just write in what you know because you will forget some cool details if you keep them in. Write the starting point, middle and the end, even with just couple of words. Add things that interest you in the middle of those points. Do you want a sad arc for your character at some point? Write it in. Come up with what makes it happen. Weave it into the other scenes. If you know what's to come, you can add foreshadowing to the earlier scenes. Even if you didn't know what would come, you can take something from earlier scenes and make it foreshadowing. Writing is a fluid process. You can jump around and add things, you don't have to approach it by putting one block next to the other. Once you have the elements you want, you just have to tie those things together. It's the hard part. And you will change your mind about many things when you get to draw your characters and see them doing the things you've written.

The start! I always say it's the worst part, but I've started to think it might be the second worst. I think the worst part comes after you've started and worked for several ten pages on fumes and you finally run out of juice. Picking up after that is hard, for me at least. But if you can manage, it should get easier. You know your characters better by now, and they carry some of their own weight.

Make a canvas. Think about the scene you want to start your comic with. Night or day? Calm or busy? Just doodle, BIG and loose. Add some frames by just drawing lines, move things around, resize. What do you want to portray with the first page of your comic? I like to establish some of the world or atmosphere, and only then move on to the characters.

Don't try to be perfect, in fact leave that first canvas completely unpolished and move on to the next one. What should this page tell? Will you show the character? I'd leave the establishing shot of them as the last big panel. The rest of the page should build up to it. The last panel is important, it's a hook to turn the page.

Come back to polish those pages more only after you have a few of them done. The most important thing is to get yourself away from that first page, because the first page is scary. After five pages you can move things around and start adding ears to your spheres. You've started a comic now. You can go back to the first page and make it nice, because you already have opened the path to continue.

IT'S HARD. But it's rewarding. It's not for everyone but it's awesome if you can make it yours.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Violet and Reader enjoy their first business trip together in Rome

WORD COUNT — 3.5K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — And the next installment of our story is finally here! Literally cannot describe how excited I am for you to see where all of this takes them! Thanks again to my gals for beta'ing and editing!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑰𝑰: 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑰𝑵 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑬

“Oh, are you sure you two will be okay?” Violet asked, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “Because I could cancel, I don’t need to go-”

“Hate to be the voice of reason, but you actually do have to go,” you interrupted as Violet spoke to her children. 

“Mum, we’ll be fine,” Hyacinth assured her. “We know the rules, and you’ll only be gone for a few days.” 

“And you’ve already told Agatha to come check up on us even though we’re not seven,” Gregory rolled his eyes. 

Violet still seemed nervous, but a reassuring kiss from her daughter and your hand on her back was enough to pull her away from her two youngest. 

“Alright, you’ll call me if anything happens? And don’t burn the house down, your grandmother would be rolling in her grave,” Violet warned. 

“We won’t. Now go, you’re going to make yourselves late,” Gregory urged, pushing his mother out of the house, you following after her with a small chuckle. 

“You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?” Hyacinth asked you and you nodded your head. 

“I think she’d argue and say she’d take good care of me, but we’ll just let her think that, huh?” you nudged the teenager’s arm and she smiled. 

“If she gets stressed, make her tea. She’s very British that way,” she whispered. 

“Got it,” you winked. “No sugar, English breakfast?” 

“That’s the one,” Hyacinth confirmed, and you smiled. 

“I’ll see you two when we get back, I wrote my number on the notepad in the office if you can’t get ahold of your mum,” you told both Gregory and Hyacinth. 

“Okay, we get it, you’re reachable, now go, you’re seriously going to miss your flight,” Gregory practically pushed you into the passenger seat of the car and you chuckled, closing the door once you sat down. Violet was already in the driver’s seat, waving to the two children as you pulled out of the driveway and headed out onto the street. 

“Gregory seemed awfully eager to get us out of there,” you looked over at Violet. 

“He’s always been like that when it comes to travel. We missed a flight once because Eloise had wandered off and we couldn’t find her. I think he’s  just been a tad bit traumatized,” Violet admitted. “Do you mind pulling up the itinerary, though? I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet.” 

You nodded your head and pulled out your phone. 

“First is a meeting with one of the companies your family owns that works out of Rome. Then, tonight, there's dinner with the head of your literacy foundation. Tomorrow, you’re scheduled to make an appearance at that fashion fundraiser the Featheringtons are organizing-” 

“Wait, is this the one where I promised Portia I would-” 

“Walk the runway? Yes, yes you did.” 

“Christ, how did that happen?” she groaned. “Actually, I know how it happened. One too many glasses of wine is how it happened.” 

You laughed at her self-recounting how she’d gotten herself into that predicament. 

“There’s no way I can get out of doing that and just attend instead?” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you told her. 

“Is this the ‘different kind of challenge’ you were looking for when you applied?” Violet teased. “I know this isn’t really in your job description, but I appreciate you doing it anyway.” 

“With a life as crazy as yours, I can see why you’d need an assistant. I don’t mind filling that role until Marianne is back,” you assured her. “And it’s nice to think of something other than numbers every once in a while.” 

Violet smiled at your words, and you drove comfortably the rest of the way to the airport where you rushed through security and made it just in time for boarding. You both took advantage of the down time on the flight, getting a few things done here and there, but also taking quick naps to refuel for the next few days, knowing it would be long, and you’d both be without much rest. 

“You know,” Violet began, as you walked with your bags towards a man who held a sign at the arrival terminal with the name Bridgerton written across it, “things are going to be hectic while we’re here, but if we get the chance, there’s some place I’d really like to take you.” 

“Somewhere you’d like to take me?” You looked back at her, surprised. 

“Yes, why is that so shocking?” she chuckled. 

“I-It’s not,” you could feel your cheeks grow warm under her gaze. “It’s just-can I ask where it is?” 

“Actually, no, you may not,” she shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. “It will have to be a surprise.” 

“Promise you’re not taking me somewhere to murder me and dump the body?” you asked, and she laughed. 

“I certainly promise that.” 

“Good, then I can handle a little bit of suspense,” you nodded. 

The man holding the sign led you to your car and, for once, Violet was not in the driver’s seat. You could see how fidgety it made her, but a part of you found it endearing. 

Without so much as a second thought, you placed your hand on hers while going through emails on your laptop, ceasing her movements. 

Too focused on your screen, you didn’t notice the way she looked up at you. The way her blue eyes became almost black, her irises only visible along the edge of such a dilated pupil. The way she had to steady her breathing and try not to think too much about what your touch was doing to her. 

Violet just felt as though it had been so long since anyone had ever comforted her in such a way, that’s why her heart was beating in a manner that felt so unfamiliar to her, that’s why she had to take a moment to compose herself, to remind herself of where she was. There wasn’t anything more to it, it had just been a long time.

She heard your voice ask her a question, but it was muffled, and she had to blink a few times and look over to you. 

“Sorry, can you say that again?” she asked. 

“Are you good to be by yourself for the first fifteen minutes or so?” you asked. “I just need to grab something before I join the meeting.” 

“Should be fine,” she swallowed, noticing how dry her mouth felt. “First fifteen minutes are for catching up anyways.” 

“Perfect, I promise I won’t be long,” you squeezed her hand. “Then afterwards, we can check in at the hotel and you can change before dinner, sounds good?” 

“Sounds good,” she repeated, forcing a small smile. 

You removed your hand from hers, to begin typing something up in an email, and Violet moved her hand immediately to rub the back of her neck, fiddling with the clasp of her necklace. 

For the rest of the drive, Violet’s hands stayed in her lap and she made a point to keep them still. When you arrived at the building where the meeting was to be held, you parted ways briefly. 

Violet made her way inside the familiar building and was immediately greeted by warm smiles and open arms as she was ushered upstairs to the board room. 

“Is it just you who is joining us today Mrs. Bridgerton? I thought you had brought someone else with you.” 

“I have,” she confirmed. “My new financial manager, she’s just gone to run a quick errand, but she assured me she’d be back-” 

“I’m here.” 

Violet turned around at the sound of your voice, noticing the smile on your face as you introduced yourself to the others in the room. 

���I got this for you,” you whispered, handing her a takeaway cup. “You seemed a little stressed in the car.” 

Violet smiled and inhaled the scent coming from the cup. 

English breakfast. Simple, classic, her favourite. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed at you, and you placed a gentle hand on her back, pulling out a seat for her to sit in. 

“So, shall we get to business?”

The meeting went on without any hiccups, the company had been doing well and numbers were increasing each quarter, which was a good sign. Violet had to admit she was finding it hard to concentrate on everything that was being said, her mind wandering here and there. 

She decided it was perfectly unreasonable to blame herself, not when it was so easy to get lost memorizing every line and mark on your face. She told herself it wasn’t different that she was admiring you; Violet had always liked admiring beautiful things. 

“Mrs. Bridgerton?” 

“Hmm, yes, sorry,” she apologized and brought her focus back to the conversation.

She was grateful when the meeting ended, knowing they would be heading back to the hotel and she would be readying herself for dinner while you dealt with a few administrative things. 

“Oh, by the way, I managed to get you out of that thing with the Featheringtons,” you mentioned to her on the way up to your rooms. “Still have to attend obviously, but we managed to work out an alternative.” 

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful,” Violet sighed, now knowing she was free of that one responsibility was a weight off her shoulders, and she didn’t feel the need to ask you any questions about how you managed to do it. 

You said your goodbyes once you reached your rooms and a part of Violet was a little sad you wouldn’t be attending the dinner with her, but she pushed the feeling out of her heart and focused on the task ahead. There was plenty of work to do and she could not get distracted.

—

“Aren’t you going to come sit with me?” Violet asked, curious as to why you were walking off in another direction at the fundraiser. 

“I have to go take care of a few things,” you informed her. “I hear they’re serving champagne though, go get a glass and relax for a bit,” you suggested. 

Violet nodded her head with a polite smile and you parted ways. She could feel the lenses of the camera following her, like the unrelenting eyes of a watchful hunter, but then again, they were taking pictures of everyone and everything. 

When she sat down, she took a small pocket mirror from her purse and made sure her hair was still clipped up properly and her makeup hadn’t accidentally gotten smudged. 

“Violet!” 

She looked up at the sound of her name, seeing Portia Featherington making her way towards her, a bright smile on her face and a glass of champagne in her hand. 

“Portia, how are you?” Violet stood up and they exchanged kisses on the cheek before both taking their seats once more. 

“Marvelous,” she answered Violet’s question once they were seated again. “Things could not have fallen into place more splendidly for this fundraiser. Prudence, Philipa, and I are so pleased with how it turned out.” 

“And what about Penelope? Have you heard much from her and Colin?” Violet asked, also curious to see if there was any news of her son while he and his partner were on their travels together. 

“She is busy working on that article about the um-oh damn, what is it called again?” 

“The effects the droughts and floods are having on the local population,” Violet said. “Yes, she was telling me about it the last time they called.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Portia smiled. “But she’s been so kind as to write a small piece about this endeavor of her sisters and I. Hopefully it will spread the word and encourage more donations.” 

“Wonderful,” Violet smiled and patted Portia’s back. “And I apologize for not being able to help you like we had previously discussed.” 

“Oh, nonsense,” Portia waved her hand. “Things sorted themselves out quite nicely.” 

“They did, did they?” Violet asked and Portia nodded, just as she saw the signal from her two eldest daughters that they were about to start and she excused herself, going to join them so they could welcome everyone before the show began. 

Violet twiddled her thumbs, quietly wondering to herself where you had gone or what you could possibly need to do right before things were to start, but her attention was drawn away from her thoughts as she heard Portia’s voice ring through the microphone. 

Violet finally took the moment to take stock of all of the intricacies of the decor and wondered how the garden theme would tie into the fashion they were presenting today. 

It quickly became clear that floral patterns and insects were the main inspiration of the designers and it was indeed very true to the Featheringtons' tastes. 

She had leaned back in her seat, her legs crossed and her hands held onto her knee as she watched the models walk the runway. Part of the charm was that the models were mostly members of prominent families who had made donations in order to participate. 

Violet had obviously kept her donation to the cause, but was more than happy to be in the audience, instead of on stage. 

She saw a few faces she had recognized, a smile coming up on her lips appreciating how much fun it seemed everyone was having. Even Prudence and Philipa walked the stage together, wearing complementary outfits. 

Just when she thought things were going to end, there was a last wave of models walking the stage, one by one, in sequence, and suddenly she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.

She blinked a few times to ensure she wasn’t seeing things and when you certainly remained standing in front of her on the stage, she had to make an extra effort to make sure her jaw didn’t drop. 

You wore an intricate gown that looked as though the skirt was made up of petals, perhaps similar to an upside down tulip. The green fabric that covered your torso mimicked the receptacle of the flower, and the sleeves acted as leaves, adorned with small insects, whose wings fluttered every now and again. 

Violet could feel her mouth begin to go dry, her fingers coming to her lips and curling around her mouth as she drank in every last detail of you.

You were biting back a chuckle at Violet’s reaction, on your walk back towards the end of the stage and Violet was still in her seat, finally taking the time to make the connections as to how you managed to get her out of her commitment. 

As soon as everything was over and had wrapped up, Violet was the first out of her seat, slipping past everyone to head backstage, seeing you change back into the clothes you had arrived in. 

“Were you ever going to tell me you took that bullet for me?” she asked, coming up behind you while you were buttoning up your shirt. 

You turned around, still working at the buttons, a laugh on the tip of your tongue. 

“I thought a surprise might be more fun,” you admitted. “Mrs. Featherington was very nice about it all though, I’m glad I could lend a hand. Both ways.” 

Violet wanted to respond to your comment about the surprise, but she found her eyes lingering on your hands as they travelled along the centre of your shirt. 

“Violet?” 

Violet quickly brought herself out of her trance, a nervous smile coming across her lips. 

“I suppose I owe you one now,” she ended up saying. 

“Just make sure we have time for that surprise, and I think we’ll be even,” you grinned. “Mrs. Featherington wanted a quick chat about something, can I meet you at the car?” 

“Sure, I’ll see you there.” 

Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek as she made her way back to the valet where the driver for the trip was waiting for both of you. 

She got into the car and you joined around five minutes later, two bottles of wine in your hands. 

“A present from the Featheringtons,” you said, handing her one of the bottles. “She said she asked Colin what your favourite was.” 

Violet looked at the bottle in her hands, a reminiscent smile coming across her face. 

“That boy,” she said fondly. “I’ll have to call Portia later to thank her.” 

The driver began the route back to the hotel and you took the time to relax in your seat, closing your eyes for a moment, grateful you didn’t have to answer any emails or resolve any current crises. 

“Maybe an early night is wise,” Violet suggested, noticing your relaxed state. “For both of us.” 

“Yes, especially with that board meeting tomorrow,” you groaned and ran a hand across your face. “No matter what job I get, I never seem to be able to escape those.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Violet teased. “We’ll survive. And I promise there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” 

“Whatever you say, my Lady,” you turned your head over, still leaning it against the headrest and tipped a fake hat towards her, making her chuckle. 

When you arrived at the hotel, you went your separate ways, each to your own rooms. You went straight to bed, but Violet sat on one of the couches, grabbing a glass from the counter and placing it on the small coffee table in front of her. 

As she sat down, she opened the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, taking her phone and scrolling through her favourites on her contact list before seeing who she was looking for and dialling the number. 

She placed the phone to her ear and listened to it ring a few times before there was a familiar gap signalling someone on the other end had picked up.

“Mum? Is everything alright?” 

“Must something be wrong in order for me to call my daughter?” she chuckled, lifting the wine glass to her lips and taking a sip. 

“No,” Francesca replied with a similar laugh on her lips. “I suppose not.” 

“I just wanted to check in,” Violet said. “Your other siblings are all quite active in the family group chat so I, at least, know they are alive.”

“Is this about me not responding to your message about bringing John over for the long weekend?” Francesca said. “Because I told you I need to talk to him, his family usually does something and since the wedding, we haven’t spent much time with them either and they’re all in town from Scotland.” 

“No, I’m simply teasing,” Violet chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about John, or any of those things, we’ll figure it out, whatever works for you both, I’m sure I’ll survive…” her voice trailed off. 

“Mum, is everything okay?” Frnacesca sensed something on her mother’s mind and attempted to pry. 

“Yes, everything’s fine, dearest,” she assured, sitting up straighter. “I suppose I am just missing you.” 

“I miss you too,” Francesca admitted. “Maybe you could come to one of my shows soon? I know you are very busy with work and I always have rehearsals or am locked away in a practice room, but…I would very much like to see you.” 

“As would I, my darling,” Violet agreed. “As soon as I am back from Rome, we’ll arrange something.” 

“I would love that,” she smiled. “And are you sure everything’s alright? Daphne says you haven’t been up to visit her in a while, that's quite unlike you.” 

“I know it is,” Violet sighed, leaning back into the couch again, sipping her wine. “I don’t know how much Anthony has mentioned to you or your siblings, but there are a few things we’re still dealing with after everything that’s happened with Landon, and I suppose it’s taken up a lot of my time,” she explained. “I would love nothing more than to go see your sister, or my grandchildren, for heaven’s sake, but I barely have enough time to keep my wits about me at the moment.” 

“Ah, so you’re missing being a grandmother,” Francesca teased. 

“Oh, you know I dislike that word,” Violet playfully chastised. “It makes me feel old.” 

“Well it is not my fault both you and Daphne decided to have children young,” Francesca countered and Violet laughed. 

“No, it certainly is not,” she shook her head. 

“Look, Mum, I really want to talk longer, but-” 

“You have to go practice?” Violet asked and Francesca sighed. “Keep me on the line for one song?” 

“Always.” 

Violet waited for a moment as Francesca prepared herself, and before long, the melody of the piano filled her ears. With Francesca, even if it was the same song, each time, there was something new. Violet could always tell. 

She tried to let all of her feelings, her worries and anxieties, the confusing thoughts that had been plaguing her mind recently, float away until it was just the music that came across the speaker of the phone until the piece was over and the static silence filled the air. 

“Sleep well, Mum.” 

“I will, my dear. I’ll see you when I get back, and thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Francesca said softly. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Violet hung up the phone and sighed, sipping at her wine once more, not thinking she would ever get used to the quiet. 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[batmanlovesnirvana]

— The name he buried

pairing : the darkling | aleksander morozova x sun summoner fem!OC

tags : some of my fave grishaverse accounts on here @stromuprisahat @aleksanderscult @is-today-tomorrow-in-nz @kasagia & @devoted-people-hater who asked to be added on the tags <3

words : + 2,6k

notes : sooo here’s a little snippet from my fic ‘Solar Børealis’ that I’ve been nervous to share (lol)... It’s one of the first scenes I wrote between Aleksander and Sunna, inspired by the iconic lines: “What should I call you? You must have a name. Everyone does.” and “Slaves do not have names.” (thanks to @black-rose-writings for the reblog and @yototothelalafell-deactivated20 for the original post!). Would love to hear what you all think, and if I managed to keep the Darkling true to canon. Hopefully he doesn’t feel too OOC!!! :) I apologize for any mistakes; English is not my first language.

THE FOREST lay in a veil of mist, hushed in a way that made every sound seem sacred.

The only break in the silence was the steady rhythm of hooves pressing into the damp earth, a soft pulse that echoed between the towering trees.

The air carried the scent of moss and rain, cool against their skin as they rode in a shared silence that stretched on, heavy yet unspoken.

Sunniva's eyes wandered toward him—the Darkling—General of the Grisha. His presence was unnerving in its quiet intensity, his expression unreadable, his figure almost blending with the deep shadows that clung to the forest floor.

Standing atop his black horse, he appeared as though he were a living part of the darkness itself, all sharp lines and mystery. His black cloak draped around him like the night sky, merging seamlessly with the world around him, making it impossible to discern where he ended and the shadows began.

It unnerved her—the way he seemed so ethereal, so impossibly perfect, as if sculpted from a dream she couldn't wake from. His beauty was unnaturally precise, a handsomeness that stirred something within her that she could neither name nor understand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, ashamed of the thoughts that fluttered unbidden to her mind.

Mammá would have scolded her, a disapproving frown creasing her brow. “Don’t stare at strangers, Nana,” she would say, her tone gentle yet firm. “It’s not proper for a Fjerdan lady.”

Yet, even when her eyes fell, they were drawn back to him, as if compelled by an invisible force. It was like trying to resist the pull of the moon over the tides—a futile effort, a gentle surrender.

Her curiosity gnawed at her, sharp and restless, refusing to be silenced by the quiet.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft yet cutting through the stillness, "What should I call you ?" The question hung in the cool air, fragile yet persistent, one she'd longed to ask since their first meeting. "You must have a name. Everyone does."

The Darkling didn't look at her, his gaze fixed ahead as he guided his horse through the narrow trail. His silence lingered so long she wondered if he would answer at all.

"Slaves do not have names," he said at last, his voice low and cold, but there was a weight to his words—a bitter edge that struck something deeper.

Sunniva blinked, taken aback by the statement. "Slaves?" she echoed, her dark brows furrowing. "You're no slave."

"Not now, perhaps," he replied, his tone as smooth as ice, though she detected a flicker of something beneath it. "But I was born into a world that would have seen me bound, powerless, just like them." He glanced at her then, his eyes like storm clouds on the verge of breaking, dark and turbulent, yet gleaming with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I broke those chains."

She stared at him, her heart pounding harder. "And now you bind others in them?"

He laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "Is that what you think, little saint? That I revel in control? In power over others?"

Sunniva stiffened, straightening her back as she shifted her position in the saddle. The way he uttered "little saint" made her feel small, insignificant. Instinctively, she brought her thumb to her lips, nervously biting the corner. But she wasn't about to retreat. "Well," she lowered her hand, as if suddenly remembering herself, "you rule through fear, don't you?" Her brows arched in challenge.

"Fear," he murmured, a faint smile curling at his lips, "is a tool. It maintains order, where kindness would invite only chaos."

"And what would you invite?" Sunniva countered, her pulse quickening. "What do you really want?"

The horses slowed, and the Darkling pulled his to a stop. He dismounted smoothly, his black cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. She hesitated, but followed, her boots sinking into the soft moss of the forest floor.

He stepped closer, his presence a looming shadow that consumed the silence between them. He towered over her, her head just reaching his broad shoulders, but she stood firm, crossing her arms in a silent attempt to show she wouldn’t be intimidated. His long fingers, adorned with silver rings, brushed the edge of her sleeve, the touch so light it almost felt unreal—yet it was enough to catch her breath.

His gaze, sharp and searching, roamed over her as the sunlight pierced through the leaves, turning her pale hair into threads of spun gold. His eyes lingered on the beauty mark beneath her eye, where her dark brows stood in striking contrast against her fair skin, and then settled on her eyes—deep green, like the heart of an untouched forest after the rain, harboring secrets she hadn't yet revealed.

She was a creature of contrasts—fragile and fierce, light and shadow intertwined. She looked like something otherworldly, a Saint made flesh.

And though he knew he should resist, the pull was irresistible—magnetic, a force beyond defiance. It ensnared him, hypnotic and inescapable.

Foolish boy, his mother’s voice echoed in his mind, but he silenced it. Her beauty—the gentle curve of her high cheekbones and the way the sunlight danced around her—made her seem untouchable. The lavender scent that clung to her was both intoxicating and haunting, lingering in his senses. Yet, there she stood before him, flesh and blood. Real.

"What do I want?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. His eyes drifted lower, tracing the scattered beauty marks along her neck before his hand rose to her chest, gently clasping the pendant that hung there. The sun-shaped charm caught the light, and his rough fingers moved over it with surprising tenderness, as though it held some profound significance.

"I want to change this world, Sunniva," he said, his tone tightening with fierce determination. "I want to tear it apart and rebuild it. I want to make Ravka safe for us—for the Grisha. To end its endless wars, to protect it from the chaos that constantly threatens to consume it. So no one ever has to suffer like we have."

She met his gaze, her heart hammering. "We?"

For a moment, something flickered in his grey eyes—something almost vulnerable, but just as quickly, it vanished. He stepped back, the distance between them sharp and sudden.

"I've lived too long to believe in naive dreams," he said quietly, his voice colder now, the warmth from moments before slipping away. "But you—you're still searching for hope in a world that has none."

Sunniva clenched her fists, holding herself back from moving closer. "Maybe hope is all some of us have left." Her Fjerdan accent, still softly woven through her voice, was like a distant melody—one that resonated with him, haunting and beautiful, as if it carried the weight of an ancient song.

The general looked at her for a long time, something unreadable passing over his features. Then, without another word, he turned back toward his horse, leaving her standing in the stillness of the forest, the tension between them thick enough to drown in.

Sunniva watched him mount again, her heart in her throat, pulse racing, but she couldn't leave the conversation unfinished. Not now.

She stepped forward, her voice more sure than she felt. "You didn't answer me! What should I call you? You have a name, don't you?"

The Darkling, still mounted, turned his head slightly. His eyes flicked back to her, the shadows around him seeming to deepen. "Names are for those who seek to be known."

"And you?" she challenged, her gaze steady. "You prefer to remain a mystery?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps you're not ready for the answer."

Sunniva's jaw tightened. She was tired of his evasiveness, of the way he danced around everything while making her feel like she was always one step behind. Stepping boldly closer, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. "Try me," she challenged, then added, "or should I keep calling you Wrönche?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, simply watching her with that intense gaze of his, as though weighing her very soul. The silence stretched on, charged with the tension that had been building between them from the moment they'd first met.

Then, finally, he dismounted once more, the air between them crackling as he closed the space.

"I was born Aleksander," he said softly, the name slipping from his lips as if it were a secret long buried. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable. "But that name belongs to a boy who died long ago."

Sunniva's breath caught.

Aleksander.

It sounded so... human, so unlike the shadow he had become. She had expected something else, something distant, something cold. But this—this was a piece of him that felt real.

"Aleksander," she whispered, almost testing the name on her tongue. It felt intimate, strange. "Is that why you hide behind the Darkling? To bury that part of yourself?"

His expression hardened immediately, the softness vanishing in an instant. He stepped closer, his towering presence making the air feel thin. "Do not presume to know me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I am not someone you can save with a name."

Sunniva stood her ground, though her heart pounded against her ribs. "Maybe not. But I think you're someone who wants to be saved, whether you admit it or not."

The Darkling’s chuckle was low and dark. “Saved, she says,” he muttered, as if the very idea amused him. His gaze flickered over her, assessing. “What makes you think I need saving?”

Sunniva didn’t flinch. “Because no one chooses to live in shadow unless they’re trying to escape something.”

His smirk faded slightly, his jaw tensing. “You know nothing of what I’ve endured.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her voice soft but unyielding. “But I see the way you carry it—like a weight you refuse to set down.”

His eyes darkened, the forest seemed to dim with them. “You speak of things you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” She stepped forward, daring to close the distance between them. “You think power will fill the emptiness, that control will erase the pain. But it won’t. You can’t outrun it.”

His jaw clenched, and for a split second, she thought she saw something raw flicker across his face—anger, perhaps, or pain. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He leaned in, so close she could feel the chill radiating from him. "Hope is a weakness, Sunniva," he whispered, his voice like a dark wind curling around her. "It makes you soft, it blinds you to the reality of this world. You think you can change me? I've outlived hope."

"Maybe you have. But I haven't." Her throat tightened, but she refused to look away. "You're a pessimist—"

"No, realist." Aleksander's eyes bore into hers, the tension between them so thick it was suffocating. He was so close now, his breath brushing against her cheek, the scent of earth and something ancient lingering in the air. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he would push her away or pull her closer.

"Realist?" she scoffed, her voice trembling with defiance. "You've given up hope. That’s not realism, that’s surrender."

Aleksander's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, the air between them crackling. "Hope?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hope doesn’t win wars. Hope doesn’t keep our people safe. Power does."

She lifted her chin, refusing to back down. "And what about peace? What about all of this—" she gestured to the world around them— "Is this your idea of protection? Of safety?"

"I already told you Sunniva. I want to make Ravka safe for us. For Grisha," he said, his voice lowering, thick with frustration and something deeper, almost pleading. "I want to end Ravka’s endless wars, stop the bloodshed, and protect it—protect us—from those who would destroy us."

"And at what cost, Aleksander?" Sunniva's voice softened, the fight slowly draining from her. "How far are you willing to go?"

His gaze flickered with something unreadable, his face hardening into resolve. "As far as I have to."

The weight of his words hung between them, thick and unyielding, as if they had pushed a wall between them. Sunniva could feel the gravity of his conviction, the depth of his determination, and it chilled her to the bone. He wasn’t the type to back down—not when he believed so completely in what he was fighting for.

Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, the tension releasing like a snapped thread. Aleksander turned his face away, looking toward the trees, shadows playing across his sharp features. His voice, when it came again, was quieter, almost resigned. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I'm not afraid of you," Sunniva said, though the words felt like a dare.

His dark eyes slid back to hers, his expression unreadable. "You should be."

Sunniva’s frustration boiled over, her voice trembling with barely controlled anger. “I don’t even know why I care,” she spat, her voice tight. "This isn’t my land. Not my country. Not my people." She took a step toward him, her hands shaking. "But your soldiers—they came through my village. They took my brother, took others… and what for? They destroyed everything. My family, my home, my life—shattered, because of your people."

Aleksander’s gaze hardened. “Your brother was drüskelle, Sunniva. A killer of Grisha. He hunted us—”

“You can justify my brother. Fine. He fought in your war. He made his choices.” She cut him off, her voice rising, raw. “But what about my sisters? My parents? They weren’t part of your war! They weren’t drüskelle. They weren’t hunters. They were just… they were just living their lives, Aleksander! And now they’re gone, all of them, because your men—your war—came to our doorstep and swallowed them whole!”

He opened his mouth, but her words were relentless, spilling out faster than he could respond.

“My parents didn’t even know what a Grisha was! My sisters? They were just children. They didn’t care about the war, they didn’t care about your power, or the politics that go with it. But you sent your soldiers, and now they're gone. I’ve lost everything, and you expect me to stand by your people? Your country ? To trust you?”

Aleksander’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before he regained his composure, his voice low and fierce. "I didn’t order their deaths, Sunniva. I ordered the capture of the drüskelle. Your brother was one of them. Do you understand that? They hunted my—our people. They hunted me.”

“And what about the rest?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “What about my sisters? My parents? You may not have ordered their deaths, but they died all the same. Your war—your quest—it stole them from me."

“And what about the Grisha who died before your family? Your village? The centuries of torture and persecution?” Aleksander’s voice was tight with fury, his jaw clenched so hard it seemed his teeth might shatter. He was seething, each word a flame, burning through the cold between them.

Sunniva stayed silent, unable to find an answer, her throat tightening around the emotions she could no longer voice.

He stepped closer, the barely contained rage in his eyes flickering with something else—something deeper. “I didn’t choose this war, Sunniva. The drüskelle choose it the moment they came for us. I am trying to build a world where no more innocents—Grisha or otherwise—have to live in fear. Where your family, your sisters, would still be safe.”

Sunniva let out a bitter, broken laugh, shaking her head. "Safe? You think you're building a world where people like my family would be safe? No. You're just replacing one kind of fear with another. You’re trying to control everything. Maybe you think it's for some greater good, but all you're doing is leaving more destruction in your wake.”

His gaze turned cold, resolute. “I’m doing what I must. For Ravka. For the Grisha. Whatever the cost is.”

She stared at him, tears burning in her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re destroying lives in the name of saving them.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—regret, or perhaps the weight of his own choices—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His voice was steely again. “If I don't, who will? The Grisha have been hunted for centuries. You think peace will come without a price?”

He swung back onto his horse, the leather creaking beneath him, but the tension was unmistakable—his jaw clenched tightly as before. Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he ruffled it absentmindedly, the cold distance between them quickly returning as he resumed the mantle of leader.

Sunniva's chest tightened, her heart racing in her throat. “But what if it’s too late for all of us?” She pressed on, “What do you plan to do?”

The silence felt suffocating, the questions lingering in the air pressing down on her as she wrestled with the enormity of their situation.

His gaze shifted to the horizon, where dark clouds gathered ominously, casting a shadow over the landscape. “What needs to be done,” he declared, his tone firm yet lacking warmth.

Frustration bubbled within Sunniva, and she huffed in annoyance, angrily brushing the tears from her cheeks.

When he turned to her, the coldness in his expression was as stark as ever, and in that moment, she recognized the depths of his burden—the weight of loss and horror etched into every line of his face.

But before she could organize her thoughts or find the right words, Aleksander’s sharp retort cut through the air like a blade. He glanced back at her, his face set in a cold, unyielding mask, making it clear that he had no intention of softening his stance.

"You think I don’t understand loss? I’ve watched my people slaughtered for centuries. You’ve lost, yes. But so have I. So have most of us. Don’t you dare lecture me on the cost of war."

Sunniva’s breath hitched, her voice cracking with fury and grief. "You think your loss gives you the right to take everything from everyone else? You think that justifies all of this? You think it makes you different from the ones you claim to be fighting?"

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "I’m not like them. I’m saving my people, my country."

Her laugh was bitter, hollow. "At what cost, Aleksander? You’re not saving anyone. You’re just creating more graves."

His eyes flashed, but instead of responding, he turned his face toward the trees, his voice icy, a final warning. "Again Sunniva, you don’t know what you’re asking for. And you don’t understand the burden I carry."

She took a step back, her voice trembling with finality. “Maybe I don’t. But I won’t carry it with you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his back to her, his grip tightening on the reins. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp and cold, cutting through the air like frost. “Then don’t.” He spurred his horse forward, his words hitting like a lash. “Spare us both the trouble.”

She flinched at the harshness in his tone, but he didn’t look back.

Sunniva stared after him, her heart heavy. She was angry at him. At herself. At everyone.

The weight of it all pressed against her chest, suffocating, relentless. Maybe he was right, and that was what hurt the most. Each breath felt like a battle against a truth she didn’t want to accept, a truth that gnawed at her insides and wouldn’t let go.

Neither uttered another word as they rode through the forest, the silence colder than Ravka's harshest winds.

Yet, Sunniva couldn’t shake the sense that the battle wasn’t over.

She had seen Aleksander—just for a fleeting moment—beneath the darkness, beneath the icy armor of power and fear.

And now, she couldn’t let him slip away.

I didn’t know how to end it … and like I said, this is just a snippet :) I’m probably going to change/cut things later

Børealis : references the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights), a natural light display in the Earth’s sky, often seen in high-latitude regions.

Wrönche : Darkling (a term used by the Fjerdans/Drüskelle during the forest scene in the first episode)

[quirkykaty]

Busted

Pairing: Crowley x F!Reader Warnings: SMUT (the one and only I've written so far, so feel free to judge), bit of fluff, bit of angst, getting caught (duh) Summary: When the cats are away, the mice will play. Sam and Dean pop out for a few hours and Crowley decides to pop in for a visit. Wordcount: >1000 Author's Note: I can't remember when or why I wrote this but it still makes me grin when I reread it so whatever. Crowley is such an ass but gods I love him.

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

“Bye! Call us if anything comes up, okay?” Sam called out to you from the door of the Bunker. Dean grinned at you over his shoulder and winked as he dragged his brother out the door. You laughed as the door closed on them, shaking your head at the grown men’s teenage antics.

Spinning on a heel, you made a bee-line for the kitchen. With Sam and Dean off to chase down a lead on the English Men of Letters, you had the Bunker all to yourself for a few hours and that meant one thing. Booze and a movie marathon in your pajamas. It was going to be fantastic.

Within an hour, you were splayed out on the couch in a ratty shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of fuzzy black socks, with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the remote in the other. Having the boys out of the Bunker meant you could pull your secret stash of movies, ones that you’d never live down if the boys found out. The first on the list was the Princess Bride, a guilty pleasure even you were ashamed of.

“Westley was a bloody idiot for leaving Humperdink alive, if you ask me,” a voice behind you drawled, the familiar accent making your face go red in seconds. You cut off the movie and leapt up, whirling to face the smirking demon that was currently leaning against the wall. “Hello, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you squeaked as you came around to the other side of the couch, frantically glancing across the room to the Bunker’s main room. The boys could be back at any time and if they caught you here with him, there’d be hell to pay. No pun intended.

“I heard that Rocky and Bullwinkle were going to be out for the evening and thought I’d pop in to see my favorite little hunter,” he said with a dramatic pout, pushing off the wall and striding toward you until he was right in front of you. “Miss me?”

You flushed slightly at the closeness, his rough voice only adding to the fire building inside you. “You.. You can’t be here, Crowley. Sam and Dean will be back soon. If they catch us…” you trailed off, biting your lip nervously.

Crowley simply smirked and hooked a finger under your chin. “Then I suppose we should be quick about it, hm?” His eyes smoldered their smoky red as they travelled across your face. He knew exactly what it did to you to see his eyes like that. Grinning smugly, he leaned toward you, not touching you, not kissing you, just moving far enough into your space to make your whole body tense with anticipation. “Dammit, Crowley..” you growled, grabbing ahold of his jacket and pulling him the rest of the way to you. Crushing your lips against his, you gripped fistfuls of his jacket and shuffled back until your hips were against the back of the couch.

Without missing a beat, Crowley wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to his chest, kissing back with a passion that never failed to make you go weak in the knees. His hand slid down your back and hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and spinning around. With a thought, you were across the room, trapped between the wall and Crowley’s body as the two of you moved together.

You broke the kiss first, head falling back against the wall as Crowley’s lips moved to your neck, nipping and kissing here and there to drive you wild. Your legs came up and wrapped around Crowley’s waist, prompting him to grind up against you. A small whimper rose out of your throat and you ran a hand into his hair, tugging gently. “No time for teasing.”

Crowley grunted and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, smirking impishly as he rolled his hips against yours once more. The two of you vanished again, back to the couch, where he pushed you down, shedding clothes while you tugged off your panties.

Within seconds, he was on top of you, one hand under your thigh and the other trailing up your side, under your shirt. Your lips met in a desperate kiss as he pushed into you, drawing a moan from you and a faint hiss from him. He set a rough pace from the start, hands wandering, seeking flesh wherever they could find it.

It wasn’t long until you were both tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, your moans and his echoing off the walls of the Bunker. Panting heavily, he pressed his face into your neck as you both came down from the high. Your fingers traced shapes on his back while you caught your breath, chuckling weakly as you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Pushing up on a hand after a moment, Crowley gazed down at you, head cocked to the side as he gave you his trademark smirk. “Well, that was a rather rousing workout, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have to send the boys away more often,” you said with a giggle, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“When you do, make sure you find out when they’re coming home,” a third voice piped up from somewhere in the room. You squeaked and bolted up on the couch, moving so quickly you smacked your head into Crowley’s. He yelped and put a hand to his head as the two of you turned to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway of the Bunker’s living room.

“Busted,” Crowley muttered, giving you an almost apologetic smile before vanishing from the room, leaving you to face the fallout on your own.

[sonic-au-collision]

SONIC AU COLLISION: ROUND 1

click to see full image

Chilidog Vendor Adventures belongs to @i-am-zeledoxus [link to fic]

Creator Note: I want to warn everyone that the first book displays some pretty strong violence. And later down the line, I plan on making the story much, MUCH darker. Fortunately, the first book is relatively tame, despite its brutal beginning. I do hope you and everyone else can enjoy this story, as this is the first time I've ever written a book in my life! If everyone here feels as though I wrote something wrong or I missed anything, don't worry! I'm receptive to genuine constructive criticism for things you and I believe needs to be changed. And if you crave more content regarding this AU, I want to inform you all that I'm currently writing the second book as we speak! With that said, thanks to everyone for reading this post, thank you for considering taking a look at my story, and thank you for having me!

Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU belongs to @nomx2chomp [link to original post]

Explore each world below the cut!

Chilidog Vendor Adventures:

The events of this AU take place in an alternate timeline of Sonic's world, removing/altering many of its problematic entries in the timeline. The story follows the adventures of Quezz the Quokka. After a brutal incident with Metal Sonic, he pulls himself out of his mundane life to go on an adventure to wield the necessary strength to protect himself from evil. Along the way, he'll face many, many insurmountable challenges that he'll work to overcome, as he'll do anything to protect himself and the people he loves.

Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU:

An AU in which Sonic was created not long after project shadow upon the space colony ark, that concept in itself is not unique however Sonic was created with different dna strands then shadow, including an unknown Alien species with rubber hose qualities and flakes of the actual chaos emeralds themselves.

Files collected from the space colony ark after the disestablishment of the projects revealed more info about this project:

[ Project Sonic

Creation Date: 6/23/1970 [DAY661]

Height: 3’2

Status: Stable

Description:

Using a separate sample of DNA that was sourced from [REDACTED] this project is equipped with the proper capabilities including speed, flexibility and proper control of momentum to assist in project shadows shortcomings. This unintentionally gave him weaknesses that are related to projects shadows strengths but that result is nothing to worry about as long as they remain together.

the GREEN and BLUE emerald were the base for this project. GREEN representing harmony and BLUE representing freedom.

GREEN shavings of the emerald were used to create the base for this projects eyes and BLUE for the base of the head.

It was expected that they would also be able to manipulate energy to use as weapons however this project instead is able to manipulate energy to create cartoonish manifestations of symbols, objects and people in the real world. Similar to a visible thought bubble.

This project is observably capable of speech and understands English. Yet they communicate solely through energy manifestations or by creating odd sounds through currently unknown means. These can include something like a ringing cowbell to even the release of a spring. Needs more research to decipher the meanings of aforementioned noises.

Still, even without manipulating energy into use of a weapon, they still have the ability to manipulate chaos energy to their will, why they haven’t chosen to use it as a weapon remains to be seen.]

His lack of speech is a nod to classic Sonic and his abilities are a nod to Sonic X and his cartoony nature, upon dawning inhibitors rings of his own he loses these abilities to manifest chaos energy into means of communication. He wears them around his shoulder and high calf due to the fact they were originally created for shadow and were cloned in order to properly inhibit shadows immense power, and Sonic being a smaller size had to wear them on larger parts of his body rather then his wrists and ankles.

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 1: numb

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 1: numb

This chapter has had the most edits over time, as my writing skills increased, and I got ever more annoyed at the state of the opening, which ought not to be the worst writing in the fic, if I wanted anyone to stick around. It still needs work, but I was not made of infinite energy. I largely just tried to improve what was already there, rather than do what I really ought to have done, which is do some proper scene-setting. None of the early chapters have much in the way of description, especially of places. I was very much working on the principle that it was fanfic, and the whole point of fanfic was that I didn't need to do that. My assumed reader was intimately familiar with Seyda Neen, because my assumed reader was myself. I was absolutely writing only the bits I enjoyed writing, which was dialogue.

I'm still torn on the first paragraph, because in trying to make it more interesting, I mostly only succeeded in making it florid and purple. The reason I let it stand is because of a favourite excuse of mine for slightly ridiculous writing - it accurately reflects the mental state of the protagonist, i.e. tangled and confused. I will use this excuse again.

(See, maybe there's no description because Iriel's really out of it, and can't register anything! Bad writing is diegetic if the characters are having a bad time!)

Iriel was dragged

Not the exact wording of the original first-draft opening line, but I edited it in for symmetry, after I wrote the last words of the last chapter ("Iriel moved forwards").  Which was, according to an email I sent at the time, in June 2015, so less than three months after I wrote the first words? That seems crazy. I do remember writing a first draft of the ending chapter quite early on, but... that early? Gosh.

When I say I wrote the ending three months after the beginning, I mean that I ONLY wrote the ending. I then spent two more years, filling in the 198 chapters in between.

The contrasting significance of the beginning and ending lines was expanded from something Philip Pullman said about making sure the first and last words of His Dark Materials were both "Lyra", because it's her story, and she encompasses it.

the guard had seized the elf by his bony wrist

A running theme of Iriel's physical trauma triggers: grab him by the wrist and he's liable to shut down completely. A jail thing, of course - make sure the magic user can't cast spells.

His bare toes snagged between the planks of the jetty

Every time I read this, I flinch, and feel the exact sensation, because it is such a terrible, terrible sensation. I know I do worse things to Iriel later, but I might hate this one the most.

Oh gods. Come on, Ire.

Many people have told me they found they were pronouncing Iriel wrong, when they read him sound it phonetically in chapter 90: "Iriel. Eye-ree-el." I can see their point, but in that case, I want to know how they were pronouncing "Ire", the shortening he gives, right at the start! Which is an English word, pronounced like the Ire in Ireland, so I hoped that implied the pronunciation of Iriel

Regarding Iriel's name: I chose it because it was visually short, having a lot of long, thin letters in it, and I liked the symmetry of the capital I and the lower-case L at the end. The shortened version, Ire, is even more featherweight, barely more than a pronoun. This is a real boon for a protagonist name that's gonna turn up in almost every sentence - you can throw it in a lot, for clarity, and it doesn't look awkward. 

I think I found it in a name list on uesp.net, and I don't think it was specifically feminine-coded at the time? ESO was only just out, so I refuse to be blamed for things it added to canon, such as two female NPCs called Iriel. My personal headcanon is that it's a unisex Altmeri name and the first i is pronounced short when it's feminine, and long when it's masculine. In his not-strictly-canon tumblr bookclub with @quickchangeartist's OC Moraelyn, Iriel says of his name:

P.S. i rolled my eyes gently at your “dear little bird” bit, but did you actually know my name is avian-derived, or was that an adorable accident? an iriel is a very pretty but sadly extinct type of finch (I am less pretty, but also less dead, a condition with which i am (on good days) content.) My mother selected the name in order to make me more matrimoniably palatable to her bird-mad noble friend. So mercenary

Iriel’s eyes jittered from surface to surface. “I was in the hold! I didn’t see anything! I don’t know anything about boats! I mean, the sail’s clearly square-rigged, but a brig should have at least two masts, I really have no idea what you’d call it, I didn’t get a chance to examine, I… I was in the hold. I don’t know anything.

In draft one, all Ire said was that he didn't know anything about boats. Then I reread it later, when it had been established that Iriel's dad was a fisherman, Iriel knows how to sail a simple boat, has absorbed a fair amount of nautical terminology, and, in general, KNOWS ABOUT BOATS! Which, I have to warn you, from a writer's perspective, is a fucking terrible thing to have your character know about. The research is a nightmare. Never have a character know anything about boats!

Anyway, I decided it was much funnier if he reeled off a bunch of technical stuff about boats, while still claiming he didn't know anything about them, because... he's just that confused? His reflexive paranoid guilt makes him deny knowledge under questioning on general principle? He doesn't think of himself as someone who knows about boats, in comparison to his dad? Yes.

someone a head taller than he was

I forget at what point I established Iriel's precise height. He's 6'4", which is below average, for an Altmer, but tall for Morrowind, a shift of identity and perspective he never quite adjusts to.

“Oh. Well… my name is Iriel of Lillandril. Which is far too many Is and Ls in one name, and really, you’d think my parents would’ve known better. We Altmer use loconymics, as I’m sure you know, so–”

Again, I chose Lillandril more or less at random from the Summerset map, based on it having a lot of Is and Ls, which felt right, all tall and Altmery, and a little bit ridiculous. Say it three times fast and you're basically yodelling. Later, I established Lillandril as Fantasy Wales, accent-wise, which made it even better.

ESO might have since established something different with Altmer surnames, lore-wise, but I don't know or care. Loconymics (being named for the place you come from) seem the norm for Altmer in Morrowind, and I like that.

I made up "loconymic", though googling now, there are other uses. I probably should have used toponym, as loconym is a greek-latin mix, which is bad practice. But I wanted a word for "named after a place" where the meaning was easily inferrable, without knowing either Greek or Latin, and "locus" is more familiar from words like "location" than "topos" is. I was trying to keep my linguistic technobabble vaguely intelligible!

In the very first draft, Iriel claimed he was a foundling in this line mentioning his parents, which was my attempt to stick to the exact terms of the whole Morrowind "uncertain parentage" thing. But I very quickly retconned it, realising there was far more mileage in having Iriel know he was connected by blood to his parents, and all the Altmeri angst he has over that. Only the first of many, many in-game "facts" I decided to bend or outright contradict! But it took me a while to realise I was allowed to do that, now, that I didn't have to keep to canon, as long as everything hangs together. In this case, I justified it later, by saying that the Empire had recorded Iriel as having unknown parents, because that's what he told them when he was arrested, in a futile attempt to prevent his family finding out.

pale-gold Altmer face, amber eyes and soft brown hair.

I had read something that advised writers to give hot, fiery angry characters warm colouration, and cold, reserved characters cool colouration, and I thought that was stupid. Iriel's not exactly cold (just numb), but Altmer in general are seen as cold, especially in contrast to fire-themed Dunmer, and... anyway, I wanted a warm-toned Altmer, because why not? Amber eyes is pretty, but not extravagantly so. I didn't want him to be exceptional, in any way - he's someone who can easily vanish from sight and memory, after all. So, he gets the most "boring" hair colour, mouse brown, which I have a soft spot for.

@Sinilakki sent me a picture very soon after I posted this chapter, and I was delighted, because clearly my limited physical description had worked - it was perfect. My first ever picture of Iriel, and it's still one of my absolute favourites.

“You are male, aren’t you? Hard to tell with you elves.” Ire racked his addled brain for the sort of lacerating response he would have given to that, in better days, but failed miserably.

The first thing to produce an actual spark of defiance in Iriel, even if he doesn't manage to act on it. Ire's experiences of Imperials having offensive ideas about elven gender will reoccur, once he's in a fit state to lecture about it.

Ire squeaked, and shifted as best he could, stumbling towards the door and struggling with the handle until it finally obeyed him.

All this is so early Pratchett, isn't it? Rincewind, but younger and gayer. Make a wet, nervous wizard and give him problems.

previous: 0: intro next: 2: labels

[alessiathepirate]

Resident Evil 2 - Resident Evil 4

SHARED WOUNDS HEAL TOGETHER THE BEST: Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Relationship development through nightmares and shared trauma.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, referenced PTSD, trauma, mentioned death, described violence, hurt/comfort

•••

Half a night full of nightmares

Escaping the unsurvivable doesn't come with good feelings at all.

It didn't fill her heart with pride or joy after she survived all those monsters in Raccoon City, even though she almost laughed from relief when she found herself far away from that God forsaken place with Leon, Claire and Sherry on her side.

No. The aftermath wasn't happy and it definitely wasn't fun. It was sad, insufferable and painful.

The mornings were alright - she didn't have any problems with those, especially when she could talk to either Leon or Claire, or take care of Sherry. But the nights - the nights were horrible and the first few after the incident were the worst.

She saw hoards of the undead in her dreams, attacking her or killing the people she cared about. She heard the noises of the lickers and the turned dogs, but the worst were the loud steps, making the walls and the ground she was standing on shake.

On the first night she relived the journalist's death so vividly, she didn't know where she was when she woke up. She saw him backing away and then the strong arm of the tyrant pushed through the concrete wall, it grabbed his head and crushed it like it was nothing. She remembered how the blood dripped down to the floor, how his eyes popped out of their places and how they were hanging out of his eye sockets, only a few weak muscles keeping them attached to his body.

When she woke up she couldn't breath, her chest was heavy, her throat felt both tight and dry and she was crying, the tears quickly running down her cheeks. She didn't know where she was or who she was, her mind was too far gone, still living in the world of the nightmare, not finding the way back to reality.

Two sudden hands on her shoulders pushed her back to the present, to the dirty motel room with the lights on, but with the curtains closed.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, it was just a nightmare! You're safe, I'm here. Do you hear me?" Leon's voice was full of fear, but he did his best not to panic as he tried to calm her down. His words made her breathing slow down and she felt like she can get some fresh air in her lungs again. "You have to take a big breath with me, okay? In and out." She followed his instructions as he brushed a few locks of hair out of her face, which got stuck to her forehead from the sweat. "Again- breath in... and out." He made eye contact with her, making sure she's feeling better. "You can calm down, it was just a bad dream."

She nodded, now understanding the situation she found herself in.

"Thank you." her mouth felt dry as she said those two words out loud.

"You have nothing to say thank you for." Leon smiled at her reassuringly. "Do you feel better now?"

She just nodded again, not trusting her voice this time. Leon backed away and sat down next to her on the bed.

She felt awkward as she sat up, leaning against the bedframe as she pulled the duvets to the side, because she felt like she was burning alive under them. She hugged her knees to her chest as she looked at Leon again.

"You can talk about it if you want to. I had one too, you know... a nightmare."

She stayed quiet as she thought about what to do, but then her strength to keep all the fear in herself broke.

"I had a dream about the journalist's- about Ben's death... It was like I- relived that moment, you know. When the tyrant killed him." she explained as a shiver run through her spine at the memories. "What was yours about?"

"That we never made it out alive." he started. "That every one of you died right before the finish line and when I tried to get back to you I got attacked as well."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I don't know." she answered after she realized how stupid it would be to apologize for the whole Raccoon City incident, when it wasn't her fault - nor their fault at all. "For scaring you because of some shitty dream I had... For what happened or- I don't know."

"It's not your fault. You can't do anything against the dreams you have and I'm sure you did your absolute best in Raccoon City. We all did."

They smiled at each other, but it was a very broken, pitiful smile.

"I'll always be here if you want to talk about, you know- what happened."

"The same goes for you." she said. "Where are the others? Claire and Sherry?"

"Claire wanted to get something to eat and Sherry wanted to go with her. You fell asleep so I didn't want to leave you alone." Leon explained and then added jokingly: "And then I fell asleep as well so I guess we were both too tired to care about food. They should be back in a few minutes."

"Thanks for staying with me."

Leon just smiled and then stood up, walking towards the only table the cheap motel room had.

"Claire was able to get some tea from that nice lady at reception. Do you want some? I mean, it's already cold, but-"

"It's perfect. Thank you."

A few moments later they were both sitting on her bed, drinking that ice cold tea as they made sure the other was feeling better after half a night full of nightmares. Neither of them knew how important that little gesture will be in their shared future.

•••

The already full jar of trauma

The moment she heard Leon's voice from his bedroom, she was up, her bare feet were on the cold floor, not caring about what she had on or how low the temperature in their apartment was. Her reflexes, which became quite sharp after that horrible night, acted on their own accord, and the next thing she knew she was running to her flatmate's bedroom, not bothering to knock.

Just like she thought - Leon's body was sweaty and he was tossing and turning in his bed with an uncomfortable look on his face. All the tiredness was gone from her eyes as she sat down next to him on his bed and put one of her hands on his chest while the other was gently caressing his face.

"Leon?" she spoke up kindly, her voice rough from sleeping beforehand. "Leon, please wake up! It's just a dream. Leon?"

He suddenly opened his eyes as he sat up so quickly she had to lean back so he won't bump into her.

"It's okay!" she tried to reassure him as she touched his arm. "It was just a bad dream."

He looked at her, his eyes teary from both dream and sleep and the next thing she knew, he hugged her, his arms keeping her in place tightly, afraid to let go.

She was shocked at first, that moment being the first time ever he hugged her or was that close to her, but she didn't complain. She knew how bad a nightmare can be, how bad of a reaction it can get out of someone. So she hugged him back and stroked his arm as his breathing became more even.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said, her face still pressed against his shoulder.

She felt him swallow.

"Do you remember Marvin?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

Marvin was still a fresh wound and a painful topic - especially the way he died and the why he died. The man was a hero; he saved them from getting eaten and he gave them the right weapons and best gear they could ever find.

She nodded, but the memories still hurt.

"I had a dream about him."

"I'm sorry. You had to shoot him because of me."

It was true and she'll probably always feel guilty because of it. It was her fault - her fault that Leon had to shoot him dead and with that add to the already full jar of trauma.

She wasn't careful and let the turned Marvin attack her. His hands were already on her and if Leon doesn't react quickly, he would've bit her right in the neck.

"It wasn't your fault." Leon said and after taking a long breath he continued: "He was already gone. It was between you and him, and he was already gone."

Even if it was a painful topic, she knew she can be thankful that Leon was there and acted quickly.

"Thank you for being there that day." she said after she pushed Leon back so she can look him in the eye. "But you can't blame yourself either. I hope you know that."

He nodded, silently saying that he does.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not anymore, no."

"We can watch something if you want to."

"Yeah." she answered, knowing none of them would be able to fall sleep again. "That would be great. A shitty comedy would be great."

•••

Keep on talking

She was so tired she felt like she could cry at any little thing - yet sleep stayed far away from her. It didn't want to come, it didn't want to give her what she needs and covets.

Her whole body hurt from that morning's obstacle training and hand-to-hand combat - both lessons left cuts and purple, blue or even yellow bruises on her arms, legs and stomach. Her muscles were aching, screaming for even a few hours of sleep, but both the sleep and dreams stayed away.

"Are you still up?"

Leon's question was so sudden in the darkness that it gave her heart an ache from fear, her heartbeat becoming faster.

They shared a bunk bed together. Leon chose the lower part so she owned the upper one - but deep down she knew Leon made that decision so he can look out for her and be her guard dog until the end of the damn training.

"Yeah." she whispered back, not wanted to wake up the others.

"You can't sleep?"

"Exactly, but I want to." her voice became high pitched, so she had to swallow to keep the tears back. "God, I really want to."

Leon whispered her name, his voice was full of worry and that was what broke the dam. The tears started to fall from both mental and physical pain, tiredness.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't without waking the others up, knowing her voice would be rough and high pitched.

She heard him pull the duvet to the side, she was sure he sat up on his bed. Then his bare feet made contact with the floor and in the next moment she could see Leon's face as he grabbed the side of her bed. His expression was full of sadness.

"Do you want to sleep next to me tonight?" he asked quietly, gently touching her hand.

She nodded.

"Come here..."

She did her best to stay silent as she wiped away her tears and then climbed down, her arms shaking as she did so. Leon was there to help her, holding her, keeping his hand on her back as support.

When she was down he turned her towards himself, wiped the remaining tears away and gently stroked a bruise on her collarbone. She only then noticed that he had a few bruises himself as well, a purple one hiding right under his jaw, but she could still see it in the moonlight.

"Who did you fight with?"

"Why, you want to beat him up?" he asked teasingly, trying to crack a joke.

She didn't giggle, caring about his health and well being too much to take it as a joke.

"Of course I want to."

"You can have one guess." he sighed.

"Krauser?"

"Who else?"

"What an asshole." she whispered.

"What about you? Who do I have to beat up?"

"You can have one guess." she quoted him. "I had hand-to-hand combat right after you."

Leon didn't say anything to that, he only stroked her cheek reassuringly and then gestured towards his bed. She lay down on his bed and tried to find a position where she leaves place for Leon as well. He joined her moments later and pulled the duvet over the two of them.

"Try to rest, okay? You need it." he whispered.

"I know." she started. "I just got to a point where I'm too tired to fall asleep."

"Do you want me to keep on talking?"

"If you want to."

One of his hands found her waist and pulled her shirt down to cover her skin, and then through the material he started to draw different shapes into her. First a square, then a circle, a triangle, a star and then a smiley face.

"Did I tell you that Claire called right before we had to come here?" he asked.

"No."

"Well she did. She told me all about what she wants to do" she closed her eyes as he started to talk. "and about who she met. She asked about us. She was surprised that we became flatmates, joking that that's how dumb romance books start..."

She fell asleep right after that, her mind finally finding peace at his words. What she didn't realize was how she was admired while she was sleeping and how well Leon slept next to her that night.

That was the first time they asked themselves if they are really just friends or something more.

•••

You'll always have Prince Charming, cariño

Their first night together as a couple shouldn't go like this - with this heavy, burning feeling inside their chests.

The well known feeling of guilt made that night harder than ever. It's been a while since they were this afraid of falling asleep and it wasn't easy to get used to again, even if they both got a routine for those nights.

Taking a shower, getting dressed for bed, cooking dinner and then watching something on the TV - trying to do everything slowly to avoid going to sleep, trying to keep their eyes open so they can concentrate on the crappy movie, trying to not think about who they lost.

"We should go to bed or you'll fall asleep on the couch." Leon was the first to break the silence and the tension in the air.

They were both watching some stupid comedy on the TV, but while Leon was sitting with tired eyes, she was resting her head on his thigh. Her eyes closed a few minutes ago and she almost fell asleep when he spoke up.

"I don't want to." she started. "I'll have nightmares and I really can't deal with them tonight."

Leon's hand started to stroke her back and she sighed - being there with him gave her a peace of mind, but it also made her really sleepy.

"I know what you mean - but we have to give it a try. We've been a through a lot and we need to rest."

"I know. I just-" she sat up so she can look at him. "I just don't want to relive Luis' death... I just can't."

Leon looked at her like she said the exact thing he had been feeling and thinking about. He gave her a sad smile and took her hand in his, drawing the usual shapes into her skin with his thumb.

"Luis didn't deserve to die." she continued, trying to get everything what hurts off of her chest. "Even if he was always flirting or being annoying; he was nice. And he was really trying to do the right thing."

"And he was your biggest supporter." Leon added with a small, honest smile.

"No, he was our biggest supporter." she corrected him, letting out a giggle as she remembered all the things he said to her. "He was trying to make me see what our relationship truly is- that what you and I have is more than friendship."

"He was right, wasn't he?"

She nodded and the smile she had disappeared as she got back to reality. To the reality where Luis Serra is dead no matter how hard she tried to save his life.

She thought about the memories she shares with Leon and realized that no matter what they do or where they go, they always meet with tragedy and death. Those things overshadow their relationship and its development, not letting them fully enjoy what they have.

Luis would've loved to see their confession. He would've loved to see their faces when they realize they both feel the same way about the other. He would've wanted them to be happy.

Even if it's hard to be happy and smile.

What would he say? Something cheesy and romantic. Something like: You'll always have Prince Charming to make you smile even on hard days, cariño.

And he'd be right. She'll always smile when she sees Leon. She'll always laugh at his jokes. She'll get through everything if he's by her side.

"All right." she spoke up suddenly, making Leon stop his movements. "We can try and get some sleep- together."

"Together." he agreed and then leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

God, Luis would be smirking with that proud, annoying smirk of his.

A few moments later they were cuddling under the duvets in Leon's room; her head was on his chest as he was stroking her back. She didn't dare to close her eyes yet, but she enjoyed the closeness with her lover.

Lover, she thought. It's good they had Luis to make them see they are better lovers than friends.

That's how she should remember him. Luis Serra, the best wingman the world has ever known. The bravest, kindest wingman the world has ever known.

"Leon?" she spoke up in the darkness as she closed her eyes.

"Yes? Is something wrong?"

"No. There's nothing wrong. Everything is fine when I'm with you." she explained when she heard the fear in his voice. "I just wanted to say I love you."

For a moment Leon's heartbeat and breathing changed, and his hand stopped.

"I love you too, darling. Now try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Promise me you'll wake me up if you have a nightmare..."

"I promise, but the same goes for you."

Leon pressed one last kiss to the back of her hand and then they both closed their eyes, trying to enjoy the other's presence, knowing they don't have to be afraid of nightmares. Not when they have the other.

•••

[crazykuroneko]

IWTV S2E01 First Watch Note

The notes I took while watching in case anyone is interested. Under the cut.

Anyway, I'm grateful they have improved the Episode Insider and now it's really something worth watching

• It's still a recap but the score slays already. Omg Daniel Hart you deserve all the awards

• I love how it says episode 8 and the silhouette of war torn Europe.

• On Claudia dreaming: Present Louis holding onto Claudia's diaries to provide a fact in the past

• Delainey is insane. Just from being silent, we could feel how torn Claudia is

• Interesting they gave ep 1 to a new director to set the tone

• So before this interview happened, when Louis still believed he killed Lestat in NOLA, he got to read this edited diaries and didn't understand what Claudia wrote? I mean, imagine reading the bitterness in her words yet you didn't know where they came from. The break down in Ep 7 triggers more memories for him to remember

• I think Daniel is similar to Lestat in a way. The more he's afraid of Armand the more crass he is. That Shah Rukh Khan comment, boy stfu

• It's insane how Louis posed dead Lestat like Jesus. 

• Okay, I'm gonna "translating" DreamStat lines like I did with dead Abigail Hobbs

• The way Dreamstat shows Louis still misses Lestat and starts to ponder if Claudia worth it. The resentment building.

• OH THE LOUSTAT LEITMOTIF AFTER LOUIS SAID SORRY TO DREAMSTAT. slower version of In Throes in Increasing Wonder

• The lines Dreamstat did are so loaded with meanings. Louis' guilt for killing Lestat; his fear that he will come for revenge; his fear that once he's finally in better place, everything will crumble again; and his longing for him just from how intimately they're talking

• Oh, Louis is obsessed to get everything right. That will gradually eat his mental stability 

• Photo of Grace as his wife. Louis you're so funny

• Real Rashid deserves a hell of bonus and a promotion istg

• I don't understand Russian etc, but the use of foreign language and accented English has been smooth so far. A world better than whatever the fuck Mayfair Witches did. And they only had to cover one language.

• "In a landfill and five years of garbage on top." Louis, garbage wouldn't stop him 😭. I wonder where Lestat has been for 5 years tho. Recovering with that many rats are easy. Okay, let's say 3/6 months on rats. Once he gets up, he could kill the first person coming to a landfill. Then it will be smooth sailing. One year tops to recover. Two years, if you'd think he's depressed over Louis killing him idk. 

• The emotion in Claudia's eyes 😭

• "Change the subject when the truth blinds you" Oh, she got him.

• That insane monologue Jacob does. Louis starting to remember which is true which is not (he re-remembers the fall, mind you). 

• So because the blood is bad, vampires there can't get warmer and feel their sadness and sickness as well. And when they want to turn someone, it's either fail or they turn into a revenant. At least according to Louis.

• Oh, Daciana can taste how strong their blood is. How long they can live. 

• I wonder what went through Claudia's head, seeing Daciana emulated herself. She (deservedly, after all his lies) didn't believe Lestat when he said his maker burnt himself. Ofc it didn't make any sense to her ears at that time, burning yourself after you turned someone. But now she witnessed it herself. Someone who could have told her everything, killing themselves after feeling lost and untethered (Daciana lost all of her fledlings)

• "My name is in some of those pages" Louis isn't even listening to his fear. He's deadset on this. And Armand is anxious.

• The face Armand made. Does Louis know he has men around his pinky just for a drop of his affection?

• Louis agreed with Armand to basically shut Daniel up and turn him into a fumble journalist again when he still wants the truth is interesting 

• Is that the groan? It's louder now.

• Daniel's reaction when seeing Loumand walking in together is so funny 🤣

• Wait, Session 7 is Ep 7. There are two sessions in this episode and it's Season 10 now. so, what happened in Season 8?

• The way Lestat is there during the You and Me lines, but it's not really Lestat. It's the embodiment of Louis' doubt on this new life he chose together. The way Claudia sitting there so small; Lestat lovingly softly gazing at her. Oh, Louis so wants to believe his words himself.

• Louis arrives in Paris with desperation to prove that this life is worth it; that killing Lestat was worth it; that he'll get that happiness. Even though he's afraid Lestat will come or it will crumble the moment he reaches it. Oh, Louis.

[smolsleepyfox]

I found this in my drafts so enjoy my bitching about the absolute shitshow my first intercontinental flight turned into.

Travelers: smolsleepyfox + mother who doesn't speak a lot of English

The inbound journey: train to Frankfurt > flight to LA (Condor) > ~two hours transit time > flight to Honolulu (Hawaiian)

Estimated travel time: 24 hours

What actually happened: The ICE was late, of course, but we had more than enough buffer regardless. The plane was announced as 45 minutes delayed due to a delayed arrival. Okay, not fun, but doable.

We eventually started with a delay of 1h 40. Refer to the transit time stated above.

The flight itself was cool, I really liked the 3D earth model with our route showing all sorts of background info on sights we were passing. I saw Iceland and the Faroe islands for the first time, and some of Greenland, the Great Salt Lake and Nevada. (Why is the US so big and empty in the middle, it was kind of freaky??)

Anyway. We arrived with a delay of 1h 20 and hastened to get to the connection. As travellers entering the country we had to get our bags and then check them in again when we were connecting, so we did just that.

Mistake.

Because when we made it to the check-in counter of Hawaiian Airlines they told us we'd been rebooked to a different flight with an entirely different airline. At 7am the next day.

Apparently Condor thought we wouldn't make the connection and changed our booking. The very sweet lady at the counter wrote down the flight number for the new booking, and recommended we go ask our original airline to get us a hotel because by that time it was 7pm and we'd been up for about 24 hours.

Guess who does not work anymore at 7pm?

If you guessed Condor's customer service desk, you get a point. What followed should be familiar to people who watched Asterix conquers Rome. I probably spoke to everyone wearing some sort of uniform in the entire building. Turns out social anxiety is only a problem until your stress level hits the roof. And after all of that didn't even work, we got a SMS with a hotel booking and food vouchers.

Note that by that point, we'd been running around for nearly three hours and there's still no information the new flight booking even exists. We have no boarding passes, not even an email saying we got rebooked in the first place, just a hand-written flight number.

To be fair the hotel was extremely nice. There even was a pool in the courtyard - which we couldn't use because as I mentioned we'd checked in our luggage. We didn't even have a toothbrush. Regardless, half of the vouchers were spent on dinner that I thought was stupid expensive (but hey not my money!).

Next morning while waiting in line to get our boarding passes I talked to a dude from Cincinnati checking in a very friendly black Labrador Retriever. I told him I'd love to see the Great Lakes sometime and he said he has a friend who went to Germany with his athletics team and it sounded very fun. I told him we have a lot of big funky churches and he seemed to appreciate it. We also spent the other half of the vouchers on Starbucks.

We did make it to Honolulu airport. Our bags did not. The day before, they'd told us that they'd either transfer our luggage to the new airline, or they'd just put it on their flight to Honolulu that leaves the same time. We waited at the baggage claim for our flight. The conveyor belt was blocked by a large box for like ten minutes. No luggage. We have no flight number for the other Hawaiian flight and none of the screens even show that that plane exists, let alone is supposed to arrive in the span of the next two hours.

After asking five different people and my mom running off on her own, we manage to get to Hawaiian's baggage service desk and one of the crew wanders off with our receipts to take a look. He returns after 30 minutes with a cart. I didn't ask where the hell he found our stuff. He was probably a wizard.

We still don't have a confirmation we ever got rebooked.

---

This is where I left off, thinking we'd finished the Odyssey. Guess the fuck what! We had not!

We spent a lovely two weeks on O'ahu of which I was sick for most of the first (I blame the AC). Our flight back was at 7.25am.

The plan was for us to go to LA together, where I'd put my mom on a flight back (Condor again) and for me to spend two more weeks in LA. We arrived around 5am because we're German and that's the bare minimum of buffer. Online check-in somehow didn't work for the Honolulu-LA leg but did work for the LA-Frankfurt leg. So we get to the airport, try the kiosks. No luck there either. Go to the customer service counter.

The poor man took about five minutes looking between his PC and our passports before telling us he had to check something and wandering off for a solid twenty minutes. That can't be a good sign.

He returns. My mom's ticket doesn't exist.

What do you mean her ticket doesn't exist, I ask, wondering if I've lost the ability to speak English.

Apparently when Condor rebooked us on the inbound flight, they accidentally canceled both Hawaiian airlines reservations for my mom. So now we have an hour left and my mom doesn't have a ticket and a flight to catch.

Booking another ticket for this specific flight is 2800$ - even if we were willing to pay that (we were not) that is very much above my credit card's limit. The man, who clearly feels bad for us, advises me to call Condor directly.

I genuinely don't want to think about how much money I paid calling the hotline. The entire thing was a disaster - I have auditory processing disorder, it was loud as fuck in the airport and the man on the other end had an accent. At first I gave him the wrong booking number (mine instead of my mom's), then he misunderstood and thought our inbound flights were with Lufthansa so Not His Job. He eventually promised to reinstate the ticket so we should wait a few minutes and return to the check-in. At check-in the tickets did not show up, so I call them back and ask for the ticket numbers to double-check.

Having a pacing man at the airport yell into his phone in German probably fulfills some kind of stereotype.

We went outside so my mom could have a smoke break and I avoided having a meltdown with the help of a soggy Nutella bread, since I hadn't even had breakfast at that point.

At this point, we've missed our flight, meaning my ticket has lost its validity as well. Stakes are high.

The few minutes were apparently enough for the system to catch up though, because when we got back to the check in counter, a very nice lady told us that while it wasn't Hawaiian Airlines' responsibility, they offered a complementary rebooking to a later flight. They wouldn't be able to guarantee we got on if it was full, but chances were good. Very stressful 40 minutes until we were called up by a guy my age who apologized for not knowing how to pronounce our last name.

But wait - my mom had a flight to catch. The stopover time by that point had shrunken to an hour... And our plane was delayed. In all fairness, the cabin crew was lovely, they offered all passengers with connecting flights to get off the plane first, just grab our stuff and run. Which is what we did, running up to the gate and asking if boarding is still ongoing like we were being chased by the mob. This flight was also delayed and I think the stewardess was concerned for us.

But hey, at least my mom made it home. Just to put the cherry on top though, my mom's luggage arrived in Germany five days later.

My own flight from LA to Frankfurt was luckily completely unremarkable. Never again.