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[advocateanulekhamaity]

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[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Under Fire

word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, ft. Jack

Summary: When Y/n L/n, Jack Wolff's beloved teacher, falls for Toto Wolff, their secret relationship is exposed to the world, igniting a media scandal that threatens to destroy their love and reputations.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n L/n had always been careful to maintain her privacy, especially as Jack Wolff's teacher. She kept her life in order, professional in every sense, and ensured that boundaries were respected. But everything changed when she met Toto Wolff at the first parent-teacher conference. He had walked into the room, tall, powerful, and commanding, and from that moment, everything began to shift.

It was supposed to be simple—discuss Jack’s progress, talk about his studies, and work to help him thrive. But with each passing week, the conversations between her and Toto lingered long after the school bell rang. First, there were shared smiles, then subtle compliments, until finally, their professional relationship evolved into something far more personal.

Toto had been honest with her from the beginning: he and Susie had divorced amicably years ago. There was no drama, no lingering bitterness between them, but that didn't stop the public from creating their own narratives. And as much as Y/n tried to keep her distance from Toto, the connection between them was undeniable.

One evening, after a long day at school, Y/n found herself at Toto’s penthouse in Monaco. It had become their sanctuary—hidden away from the prying eyes of the media. The city’s lights glittered across the water, and inside, the warmth of their shared moments felt intimate and safe. She sat on the couch, wearing a silk dress that clung to her curves. Toto sat beside her, his hand resting on her leg, the gentle pressure of his fingers sending sparks through her.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice thick with concern. “We can’t keep hiding like this.”

She sighed, her heart heavy with the reality of their situation. “I know, Toto. But the moment we go public, everything will change. You know what they’ll say.”

“They’re already talking,” he replied, running a hand through his dark hair. “The whispers are growing louder. It’s better if we control the narrative.”

Y/n bit her lip, knowing he was right. But the thought of being exposed to the world terrified her. She had always been private, especially in her role as Jack’s teacher. The idea of being dragged through the media was overwhelming, but hiding had become suffocating.

“It’s not just about us,” she said quietly. “Jack’s involved. His friends at school… they’ll hear things. He’ll be caught in the middle of all this.”

Toto leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking with hers. “Jack will understand. He loves you. He’ll know that what we have isn’t wrong.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure the world will see it that way.”

But that night, they made a decision. The next morning, they would stop hiding, and the world would know the truth. What Y/n didn’t expect was just how fast the backlash would come.

The following day, Y/n’s phone exploded with notifications. It was just after 8 AM when the tabloids published the story—photos of her and Toto walking into his penthouse, the headline bold and brutal:

“Toto Wolff’s New Flame: School Teacher Sparks Romance Scandal After Divorce From Susie Wolff!”

Y/n felt sick to her stomach as she scrolled through the articles. The vitriol pouring in from social media was immediate and vicious.

“She’s just a cheap rebound for Toto. Susie deserved better!”

“Some teacher she is—sleeping with a student’s father. How low can you go?”

“This girl thinks she can replace Susie Wolff? She’ll never be her!”

The comments felt like knives stabbing at her, each one more cruel than the last. Y/n’s hands trembled as she set her phone down, trying to block out the words. But they had already done their damage.

She tried to shake it off, telling herself that people didn’t know the real story—that Toto and Susie had been divorced long before she came into his life. But that didn’t seem to matter to the public. They wanted scandal, and she was the perfect target.

At school, things weren’t any easier. Parents whispered as she walked by, their gazes full of judgment. Y/n could feel their eyes on her, their silent accusations making her stomach twist. Even her colleagues, who had once been friendly, now kept their distance, unsure of how to navigate the media frenzy that had erupted around her.

And then there was Jack. Sweet, innocent Jack. The child who adored her, who looked up to her like a second mother. He had started calling her "Y/n/n" in the past few months, a term of affection that made her heart swell. But now, Y/n feared what this scandal would do to him.

One afternoon, after class, Jack stayed behind, as he often did, waiting for Toto to pick him up. But today, his usual cheerful demeanor was absent. He looked up at Y/n, his small face full of confusion.

“Y/n/n,” he asked, his voice soft, “why are people saying mean things about you and Daddy?”

Y/n’s heart sank. She knelt down beside him, her voice gentle. “Sometimes, Jack, people say things that aren’t true. They don’t understand what’s really happening, and they can be hurtful.”

Jack’s eyes filled with concern. “But you and Daddy are happy, right?”

Y/n nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, sweetheart. We’re happy.”

Just then, Toto walked into the classroom, his face tense. He gave Y/n a knowing look, one that told her he had seen the headlines, read the comments, and was just as furious as she was.

He crouched down beside Jack, placing a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. “Everything’s okay, buddy. Don’t listen to what other people say.”

Jack nodded, but Y/n could tell the boy was still troubled by the whispers he’d overheard.

That evening, as they sat in Toto’s penthouse once again, Y/n could feel the weight of the scandal pressing down on them. The backlash was relentless, and the haters seemed determined to tear her down.

But as Toto wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, Y/n knew that they had something real. It didn’t matter what the world thought of her or how many people spewed their hate. In the end, it was her and Toto against the world.

“They’ll never stop, will they?” Y/n whispered, her voice shaky.

Toto kissed the top of her head, his voice firm. “Let them talk. I don’t care. You’re the one I love, Y/n, and that’s all that matters.”

Y/n leaned into him, finding comfort in his words, knowing that despite the storm of haters outside, what they had was worth fighting for. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this scandal was just the beginning of a much larger battle.

[actuallysaiyan]

You're Mine(Enji Todoroki x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, suggestive themes, swearing, unprotected sex, Love quirk/Sex pollen trope, sort of dub con, Rei and Enji are divorced in this, slight age gap, oral sex(male receiving)

word count: 2.6k

pairings: Enji Todoroki x Fem!Sidekick!Reader

summary: during a normal job for you and Endeavor, he gets hit with a Love quirk and you're the only one who he'll let help him...

a/n: dividers by @adornedwithlight! For the lovely @cherryblossombankai <3/tagging: @pixelcafe-network

It was supposed to be a standard job. Just going to bust this criminal together and then throwing him in jail. That’s it! You’re a proud sidekick to Endeavor and you even hope one day that you can be as strong as him. Endeavor always shows you just how good a hero can be, and in your heart of hearts, you know that he is the number one for you.

Everything was going well. You had tackled down the first guy, holding him against the wall while you waited for Enji to dispatch the second guy. You can hear the sirens approaching the derelict warehouse where you caught the two criminals trying to ship out some of the enhancement drugs.

Their quirks had been unknown to you, but you did notice how the guy that Enji is fighting didn’t use his at all. Instead he focused on hand-to-hand combat. Which you thought was pretty impressive considering that Endeavor could easily kill this guy, but he won’t. The guy then realizes what kind of trouble he and his partner are in.

“Well, I guess we can’t win. But you sure ain’t gonna win either!” He shouts, then he opens his hand and waves it in front of Enji’s face.

Endeavor growls, pushing himself away from the villain. You can’t tell what the guy’s quirk was, but you know it’s affecting Endeavor immediately. His pupils dilate and he’s got a crazed look on his face. The two villains help each other, pushing you away from the other guy. You try to chase them but they are already too fast. You look back at Enji in defeat, but he’s not looking at you angrily like you were expecting.

You’ve never seen him like this. He’s been your boss for a long time. To say that you weren’t attracted to him would be a big fat lie. Endeavor was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on, but you know it would be wrong to hit on your boss. It’s just not right. Then again, the way he’s looking at you right now would suggest otherwise. Wait…why is he looking at you like that?

“Get away from here! Go tell the police what happened!” His voice sounds angry, but it’s thick with something else. Something you can’t quite pinpoint.

You do as he says, telling the police that Endeavor got hit with a mystery quirk and that the villains were running away. Some of the other pro heroes are on scene now and they begin to chase down the villains. You return to your boss. 

Enji is nowhere to be found. He made his way upstairs to one of the office spaces in the building. His suit is becoming way too tight, and it is starting to feel a little slick with sweat now. He’s not stupid; he was just hit a Love quirk.

Usually people with a quirk like that were contained or their were strict laws surrounding how they could be used. The fact that the bastard had taken the time to hit him dead on was just a cheap shot. Enji swears as he sits down on the old couch in the office and adjusts himself through his suit. He did not want you to see him like this; all weakened and pathetic.

The way his stomach flips and erupts with butterflies whenever he touches his cock lets him know just how strong this quirk is. It’s painful in a way because he knows he’s going to have to take care of this alone. There’s nothing else he can do. He can’t have anyone see him like this, they wouldn’t know how to help.

He’s just lazily palming himself through his costume for the time being. His eyes scan the room to see how he can maybe block the door. He’d tell whoever came looking for him a dumb lie. Most of them trust his word, they know he wouldn’t be hiding himself away for no good reason.

Your voice sounds so saccharine as you call out for him. His cock is jumping as he hears you getting even closer. You’re so worried about him too; fuck, he swears that you’re just the cutest little thing to ever cross paths with him.

“Enji?” You call out.

He bites his lip when he hears you using his real name. You shouldn’t be here. You should be somewhere safe and not near him where he could easily open that door, throw you onto this couch and fuck you until your legs turn to jelly. No, you need to fucking leave. But he swears he can just about smell you as you get even closer.

“Get out of here! Now!” He growls.

Your hand hovers over the doorknob of the door. You aren’t sure you like the tone of his voice right now. Whatever quirk he was hit by, you knew it was affecting him worse than anything else. You’ve seen him get hurt before, but this wasn’t him with his wounded pride and injuries on his body.

This must have fucked with his psyche somehow. You wonder if maybe the quirk was a brainwashing one, but you know you’re just so worried. You need to make sure he’s fine. You slowly turn the knob and then push the door open just enough so you can stick your head inside.

The sight of Enji on the couch, his hand between his thighs and the glazed over look in his eyes. That’s all you needed to see to let you know that this was no brainwashing quirk. He had clearly been hit by a Love quirk and it was driving him insane. He flares his nostrils when you finally step inside the office.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you to get the hell out of here?” He snaps. His hand keeps rubbing up against the obvious bulge in his costume.

You back away slowly, afraid of the man in front of you. But there was something else there that was hitting you. You found yourself wanting to help him. You know you shouldn’t suggest it, but maybe you could be of use. Love quirks usually go away faster with someone helping the victim out.

“I couldn’t leave you!” You cry out as you close the door behind you.

Endeavor sits up on the couch, looking at you with a pure blaze in his eyes. If you make one more step inside this room, he’s going to not be able to hold back. He’s going to lose it and he’s going to have no control.

“If you don’t fucking leave right now,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m going to fucking lose it.”

You shudder at his words. You feel like you’re losing your mind already. It almost feels warmer in here. You tentatively take a half-step towards him and he groans and tilts his head back.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

You stop him. “I can help!”

He growls, “Fuck no! Don’t get any closer.”

But he knows you both want this. You’ve been pining for him for a while, and he’s shared the same feelings. Since his divorce from Rei and taking you on as a new sidekick, Enji knows that he can’t hold back his emotions for you. You’ve been such a positive light in his life. You’ve shown him a new way to look at things.

His eyes close and he lets out almost a purring noise. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You approach him and take his hand. “You won’t hurt me. Let me help.”

He shudders from head to toe as you finally get close enough to him. You wipe the sweat from his brow in such a loving way, he’s moaning at the feeling of your hand on him. His eyes are so dark, you can just about make out the amount of arousal he’s feeling right now.

He nods frantically, “A really strong one.”

“Love quirk, right?” you finally ask.

You look at him. He’s a mess right now. His cock is throbbing beneath the spandex. There’s that lust-crazed look in his eyes. And his hands are shaking from not touching you. You then lick your lips and look into his eyes.

“What do you want? You want me to use my hand or my mouth or?”

You don’t get to finish when he’s pulling you towards him and he’s kissing you with so much hunger. His tongue penetrates your mouth, tangling wetly and sensually with yours. Enji lets out very deep and dark grunts that rumble through his chest. You’ve never been kissed like this at all.

He’s pulling you even closer; his arms wrapping around your waist. You nearly topple over as you get tangled in the discarded files and papers on the ground. He holds you so close, kissing you as if your kisses were like the oxygen he needs to breathe.

“I just need you so badly,” he finally says in a husky tone of voice. “Don’t care what you do to me, but please…please.”

You grab the zipper to his costume and you unzip it. You’re trying to work as quickly as you can. Enji keeps bucking his hips as more of him gets exposed. He reaches over to help you unzip yours. Your breasts are exposed and he’s pawing at you like some sort of teen boy who’s just found his first porn mag.

His cock stands erect and leaking. You dreamt about seeing him naked for so long, but you never thought it would be in a dirty, abandoned office space. You finally kneel in front of him, and Enji lets out a strangled moan. Just the sight of you on your knees for him has his cock leaking even more fluid.

“D-don’t fucking tease!” 

You giggle at how much he’s at your mercy right now. You reach over to hold his cock in your hand and you feel your stomach flip when you realize that your fingers don’t even touch from the size of him. He growls when you begin to jerk him off.

“Yes, yes yes…oh god yes!”

He’s panting, growling and moaning. He sounds like a ferocious beast trying to mate. His hips begin pumping in time with your hand. Then you lean in to lick the tip and this has him whimpering.

“D-do it again!” His fingers tangle in your hair. He pushes you gently, or as gently as he can manage while under this quirk’s power.

You wrap your lips around him and he feels his knees buckling. There’s stars dancing in his vision already. All he can do is white-knuckle the sofa beneath him as you’re bobbing your head up and down. His legs are literally shaking as you try to take him deep down your throat. The sofa is beginning to creak from the pressure of his fingers clinging to it.

“Don’t stop!” He roars. “Don’t fucking stop!”

Tears sting your eyes as you do all that you can to continue to deepthroat Enji. You wonder what will happen if you are to let him fuck you. You’re going to be wrecked completely. You won’t be able to walk for a week. Then when you look up at him, you know you’ve done the wrong thing.

He pulls you off his cock and he pushes you down on the sofa. His eyes are alight with a fire that you know you’re the only one will ever see. He leans in to capture your lips in a deep kiss. It’s hungrier than the last one and he moans when he tastes himself on your lips.

“Gotta fuck you. I need it.”

His words hit you so hard. You don’t know that you can take him, but there is no turning back now. Enji Todoroki was about to fuck you until you were going to pass out. He pulls his costume off of him fully, then he helps you out of yours. He lets out a ‘tsk’ when he notices the underwear.

“Not everyone goes commando, sir.”

Those words earned you another rumbling growl before he kisses you sloppily again. You feel like your mind is already swimming from the amount of lust you feel for this man. His fingers curl around the waistband of your little panties and he pulls them off with enforce that they tear.

He smirks at the cute little gasp you let out. He pushes two of his fingers into you, his thumb coming up to rub your clit. You were thanking your lucky stars that at least he was prepping you to take his length. Endeavor is rough with you, but it only serves to turn you on even more. Your juices are slick all over his fingers.

Then he presses you back and spreads your thighs. His cock sits heavy on your mound for a moment as he leans down to spit on the head of it. You cry out and cling to the couch as he penetrates you roughly.

“Just take it! I need this!” He growls as his hips snap.

He’s just chasing his own high. You knew this is what it was anyway. When you offered to help, you know that he wouldn’t be focusing on you at all. You feel warmth blossoming inside of you when you think about how he tried to prep you for his impressive size. Even with that, you feel like you’re being split open as Enji pounds himself into you.

“Perfect little hole,” he grunts against your ear before he begins to leave love bites on your neck. “Like you were fuckin’ made to take me!”

Your legs wrap around him as you try to gain a little control, but this only pushes him even deeper inside of you. Endeavor growls loudly before biting down on the junction between your shoulder and neck. This causes your walls to spasm around him and he’s roaring loudly again.

“Milkin’ my cock, huh?” He asks in a dark tone of voice.

The way he’s talking to you is even most feral now. He’s gripping your hips harshly, certainly leaving indentations. His body keeps trembling with every harsh thrust. His cock throbs as he slams against your cervix. He wants you to cum if you can. He needs to feel that around his cock.

“Cum for me. Come on, fuckin’ cum for me! Milk my cock.”

The Love quirk was penetrating his mind even more so. The closer to his peak, the more he felt feral and hungry for you. He lets his hand slip between you both and he rubs your clit in fast little circles. You can barely wrap your mind around the pleasure you’re feeling. Enji leans in to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on, do it for me.”

The coil in your stomach snaps and your vision turns to white. Every single nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire as you cum hard. Your cry of his name only makes him fuck you even faster and deeper. Your legs feel like they are jelly right now.

He’d give anything to you. He’d promise you anything right now. If you wanted to get married and have kids, he swears while he’s in this state, he’d give you the world. Enji feels his orgasm creeping up on him and the chills run down his spine. His balls are drawing up and he’s panting like an animal in heat.

“Cumming!” He growls as he feels the first pulse of his semen.

He holds onto you so close, making sure to shoot deep inside your hot heat. As he rides out his high, you can see him slowly returning to normal. There’s a bit of a blush on his cheeks when he finally snaps out of it. But instead of making you feel bad, he just kisses you.

“Thank you for helping me.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[millysilly123]

This is the Not So Berry Challenge in the Sims 4 but Base Game version! Enjoy!

Gen 1: Mint

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Jealous, Materialistic

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Career: Astronaut

Rules: Master astronaut career (Lvl 7), Complete Chief of Mischief aspiration, master mischief and logic skills, complete the elements collection and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 2: Rose

Traits: Hot-Headed, Snob, Romantic

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Career: Business

Rules: Master the business career, complete the Serial Romantic aspiration, leave someone at the alter, get married for the first time as an elder and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 3: Yellow

Traits: Clumsy, Ambitious, Loner

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Career: Freelance Programer

Rules: Master the programming, rocket science and handiness skills, complete the Nerd Brain aspiration, must complete ten sculptures via the woodworking table as a teen, must build a rocket ship and visit Sixam, enter the secret lot in Oasis Springs (requires max handiness), never have any close friends or relationships other than grandparent from generation one until the grandparent dies and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 4: Grey

Traits: Active, Slob, Music Lover

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Career: Athlete

Rules: Master piano, guitar and athletic skills, master the athlete career, compete the Bodybuilder aspiration, have three failed relationships before finding a spouse, marry a neat sim, be good friends with all of your children, have at least one family dinner a week where everyone is present at the same table while eating the same meal and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 5: Plum

Traits: Genius, Non-Committal, Bookworm

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Fast Food, Tech Guru, Entertainer

Rules: Master video gaming and two other skills of your choosing, achieve at least level eight in six skills (including the three you master), complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration, get divorced and later remarried to the same sim, must live in both Willow Creek and Oasis Springs over the course of your life and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 6: Orange

Traits: Evil, Self Assured, Glutton

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Career: Criminal

Rules: Master cooking and charisma skills, master the criminal career, complete the Public Enemy aspiration, must live in a cheap starter home (under 12k) for entire young adult life, have twins but only have those two children (you may use cheats for this) and insist on being evil (claim to be a criminal mastermind) but have no one believe you.

Gen 7: Pink

Traits: Neat, Loner, Creative

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Career: Business

Rules: Complete the postcard collection, master writing and gardening skills, complete the Best Selling Author aspiration, have a well maintained garden, quit day job as an adult to pursue dreams and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 8: Peach

Traits: Foodie, Lazy, Goofball

Aspiration: Joke Star

Career: Secret Agent

Rules: Marry a co-worker, must play an instrument, master gourmet cooking and comedy skills, master the secret agent career, must live in a different world than the one they were raised in and have at least one child (more if you choose). You can choose if you want to complete the aspiration or not.

Gen 9: Green

Traits: Slob, Geek, Cheerful

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru

Rules: Master mixology, programming and video gaming skills, master tech guru career, complete the Computer Whiz aspiration, must accept every invitation to parties/outings with your friends and/or go out or throw a party once a week, have at least five good friends and five enemies and have at least one child (more if you choose).

Gen 10: Blue

Traits: Gloomy, Perfectionist, Family Oriented

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Career: Painter

Rules: Adopt at least one child, master the cooking, painting and gardening skills, master the painter career, complete the Big Happy Family aspiration, marry your high school sweetheart and stay with them until you die and have a one time secret affair.

I do not own this challenge, it is by Lilsimsie.

For me at least, I make my own husbands with required traits if needed.

Hope you enjoy doing this. Let me know if you want any other base game versions of challenges, if you are like me and play console with no mods or CC and own no packs.

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 9 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, mentions of anxiety attacks, mentions of abuse, mentions of bribery.

taglist: @wecanpretendit | @whoisbts | @yoonjinsrkive | @my-current-mood-is | @joonzseoulmate | @parkinglot-nights | @missbangtangirl | @m00njinnie | @mantaecrolss

Previous | Next

This entire weekend was incredible, yet still a huge weight sits on your shoulders when all of them blend in with Namjoon and seem to be liking him… a lot!

You spent so much time over thinking the fact if you and Namjoon didn’t actually end up together everything is going to end up being awkward for you two.

Jungkook has already planned a workout routine with the guy and they agreed to meet up a couple times a week, even when he used to work out with you, but you’re long forgotten. Yoongi wanted to take him out and play basketball, Taehyung wanted to see a cockpit in real life so he politely asked Namjoon to show him one.

You’re a little overwhelmed that you kind of regret the fact that you introduced them together, you wish time went by fast so you could go home.

Less than a week after, Hoseok is driving on his way back home from the court house, that day he had planned dinner with you and a movie night, not only because he genuinely misses you and  wants to hang out with you; but he’s trying to keep you away from Namjoon a little, not that he’s against anything or whatever, he just wants you to take your time with the whole thing. So he planned a sleepover at his place, and it’s just you two.

You’ve always been close together and did these kinds of nights occasionally if neither of you had to work, so you wouldn’t mind at all, in fact you would love to.

Hoseok’s phone rings while he’s driving and he puts his phone on speaker when he answers. “Hello?”

“Mister Jung? Hi this is Mister Lee speaking, I’m one of your clients.” It seems to be an older man on the other side and Hoseok gets a little suspicious, he has way too many clients and most of them share their first names, so he apologizes. “I’m sorry, but I’m currently driving, can you make it quick please?”

“Absolutely, I wanted to talk to you regarding my daughter’s hearing on September 14th, you’re her husband’s lawyer aren’t you?”

He feels the need to park the car on the side of the road as he grabs his phone and checks his schedule, Namjoon’s hearing is scheduled that day along with two other sessions. “What’s the spouse’s name?” He asks.

“Kim Namjoon, I thought that we could make a deal with you.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

A little cheap shot from her family, but most of the other parties when they find out that Jung Hoseok is against their own lawyer, they try their last shot which is bribery. The whole field of law is intoxicated with bribery and even though it is in fact a federal crime, it still occurs frequently.

And of course, Hoseok is filthy rich, because really, he can’t deny that if he got a  good offer, he would totally accept the bribe and not try hard defending his own client, but of course he wouldn’t accept the bribe if they offer a fake or invalid evidence to hold against his own  client.

But considering Namjoon actually matters to you and you’re his close friend, Hoseok decides to actually listen and figure out what they have in hand. “Sure go ahead.”

“3 and a half million won if you make him change his mind and cancel the divorce.”

Of course her father doesn’t even own the 3 and a half million won. Even if Hoseok actually got Namjoon to change his mind, her family would take the Kim’s money to pay Hoseok.

Hoseok laughs. “Do you have any valid reason from him to change his mind about the divorce?”

“We have witnesses, he was seen in public with someone else, and we have a witness of abuse.”

Hoseok knew that you being around Namjoon all the time will complicate things, he rubs his forehead and nods. “We need an actual concrete evidence, do you have any? Video tapes, pictures, clothing item?”

The older man laughs nervously. “We don’t have concrete evidence sir, aren’t witnesses just enough?”

“Of course not, for all we know, your witnesses can easily lie.” Hoseok’s answer is more than enough for the man to just sigh, “I will get the concrete evidence, can we visit you in your office when we’re ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you Mister Jung, we’re sorry for keeping  you busy.” The older man apologizes before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Of course Hoseok doesn’t need the evidence to begin with, even if Namjoon was actually guilty, he was going to defend him just because he knows that the man matters to you.

But he feels the need to tell you, that the man may be accused of actual abuse. And he needs to talk to Namjoon and see if he ever touched the woman in an inappropriate way.

He finally gets home to take a shower and get dressed, as he waits for you to show up, you two were going to bake pizza from scratch and he had everything prepared for you two to cook together.

He grabs out Namjoon’s file to put on the coffee table before you finally arrive there and ring the doorbell.

You were working that day on the morning shift, Namjoon wanted you to come over to his place since his soon to be ex partner is in Ilsan with her parents, but you told him that you had plans with Hoseok and of course he gave you your space and wished you a pleasant time.

You got back from work and dressed into a pair of sweatpants and a  hoodie and you matched it  with a pair of socks and a slipper, and you drove to Hoseok’s place with a six pack of beer.

“There you are.” He opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you hug him back and kiss him on the cheek, “What’s up?” Before walking towards his kitchen to put down the beer, he opens the fridge to shove the drinks inside and grabs you out a bottle of water. “I have some tea to spill.”

“You do? I love a little gossip.” You grab the bottle and untwist the cap. “Who’s sleeping with who? Is Jungkook sleeping with someone’s girl?”

He laughs and scratches his nose. “I’m not surprised you think that, but nope, it’s actually regarding you.”

You’re a little taken back when he speaks, he even crosses his arms and looks at you in the eyes, one eyebrow cocked up.

“Should I be worried?” Your heart drops when he takes a couple seconds to answer you, “Nope, nothing too serious, let’s go sit.”

He points his head towards the living room, both of you walking there.

There is not a single scenario that didn’t go through your head, your anxiety is increasing by the second and he’s taking his time to talk which drives you mad.

You cross your legs under your butt and sit back onto the couch. “What is it?”

He grabs the papers and hands them to you, it takes you a second to recognize that it’s Namjoon’s  divorce papers, clipped onto a thick file that was hand written by his previous attorney, consisting of Namjoon’s testimony.

“What’s the matter?” You worriedly ask and he eyes you carefully before he speaks. “His father in law found my number somehow and called today to put an offer, of course Namjoon doesn’t know.”

“Hobi, I think I should stay out of this, it’s none of my business.” You put the file down and sigh, a little relieved that it’s nothing concerning you in person.

“No Y/N.” Your stomach drops when he uses your name clearly. “I think you have to know, they’re trying to find a concrete evidence of abuse, and they have a witness who claims that Namjoon was seen in public with someone. Look, I’m just worried if what they are claiming is true.” He whispers as if someone might listen.

You bite onto your nails anxiously, you know Namjoon’s side of the story but you don’t know hers’. And perhaps everything they’re claiming can actually turn out to be true.

But you shake that thought immediately away, you’ve known the man for more than two months now and you swear on your own life that he’s been nothing but good to you.

“Did you go out with him?” Hoseok’s deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you even flinch. “We went out together a couple weeks ago, but that’s it.” You shrug. “We mostly hung out in my place.”

“And did anyone recognize Namjoon or something?” He asks. “Someone might’ve spotted him.”

You’re totally unaware of what happened in the wine cellar that evening and it didn’t even cross your mind because you didn’t over think it in the first place. Plus you were a little tipsy.

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “I’d really appreciate it if you brainstorm a little.” He puts his hand onto your leg for support before getting up. “I’m not going to dig further more into the topic of abuse unless they hand me the evidence.” He walks towards the kitchen.

“I think you should talk to them.”

And he stops to look at you behind his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Make them trust you, maybe they’ll spell out the truth.” You simply suggest.

“Do you have a plan?

You simply shrug with a little pout forming onto your lips. “You know your job better than I do.”

He pauses for a second and scratches his temple. “Fine, I’m in, but can we please get to cooking? My brain won’t function when I’m hungry.”

You get up onto your feet and head to the kitchen with him.

-

The night is getting longer and the time is passing really slow since winter is about to come up early this year, you’ve always hated night shifts when the night got longer but now you don’t mind them. Namjoon has been keeping you entertained  throughout the entire night, texting or even video calling when he’s in the hotel room outside Seoul.

“Hey, I got you some coffee.” Seokjin makes a surprise visit to the emergency room and puts the cup down in front of you, he’s looking tired and he could barely stand on his feet. “Thank you, you don’t seem okay,”

He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, I think I have a fever.”

You get up on your feet and grab his arm to lead him onto one of the beds and close the curtain. “Lay down.” He obeys and immediately shuts his eyes, you grab the nearest thermometer and aim it towards his head, and indeed he does have a fever. “What hurts?”

“Nothing too serious, I think it’s the flu because my tonsils hurt.” He barely speaks. “Can you write me a sick leave? And can the nurses give me something? I’m really tired.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Oh so that’s what the coffee’s for.” And he flips you off because he’s too tired to bite back at you.

“Fine. Stay here.” You open the curtains and head out to the nurses to give them the order on what to give him before writing him a sick leave.

The emergency door slides open and an old man walks in with a woman behind him, both are walking so it seems that there is nothing too urgent to you. They take the bed right next to Seokjin’s and leave the curtain open, waiting for you to come over.

You take a sip of your coffee that you know is going to get cold by the time you’re done and make your way towards them with one of your nurses to introduce yourself. “Who’s the patient?”

“I am.” How can you forget her features? You’ve seen her once but you remember every detail on this woman. There’s a ring still on her left hand.

“Lay down please,” You put a pair of gloves on and walk near her before the man next to her stops you. “We would prefer if it was just you examining her.” He looks at you then looks at the nurse who’s about to turn around and leave before you grab her wrist. “She has to be here to assist me.”

“But we want some privacy.” He insists, you squint your eyes and tilt your head. “And you are..?”

“Her father.”

Makes sense, she looked a lot like him, you feel resentful towards them both that you couldn’t control your facial expressions. The nurse leaves as you give the woman in front of you a half assed examination.

“Breathe.” You order her as your stethoscope sits on her back, your other hand supporting her other shoulder.

Her sense of smell is heightened all the time, and the perfume on you smells so familiar, of course she can’t forget the night she first smelled it on Namjoon’s shirt, and what makes her a little suspicious is that she smelled his shirt on the same night that her second cousin claimed that he saw Namjoon with someone..

But of course this doesn’t prove anything since people tend to like similar perfumes, she looks at you and sinks in her thoughts. Quite good looking, but a doctor who probably doesn’t have the time to go out with someone.

“What brings you here today?” Your question snaps her out of her thoughts, she’s about to open her mouth to speak but her father grabs her by the shoulder and whispers. “We need your help.”

You stand in front of them in confusion before you ask. “How can I help?”

“My daughter is going through a divorce and the lawyer asked for a medical report to give to the court.” He nods and has the audacity to say. “And you women understand each other, we need your help with a medical report to prove that she’s been a victim of violence.”

Her parents are putting in all their effort to find  their evidence, of course her second cousin wasn’t able to snap the picture earlier, but they’re using their twisted ways and trying to dig deep just to prove that Namjoon was there with someone.

They even asked the company that held the tour to send them the list of people who booked on that day but it was confidential and no one was allowed to have it, and Namjoon got lucky with that..

And of course they offered a few doctors that are related to them a bribe just to fake reports of abuse, or even fake reports that she’s pregnant so that the divorce can be delayed. Her father is working on a big project and he needs funding for it, the divorce cannot happen any time soon.

Someone suggested that they should head to hospitals in Seoul rather than Ilsan since her and her husband live there, and that she should visit an emergency doctor so that they could help her with her medical report.

You feel your body fuming with anger and you’re even more bitter now, you clear your throat and look up into his face to see that he’s dead serious. Other doctors would’ve probably done it, but of course you wouldn’t because it’s unfair to Namjoon and unfair to you and your job.

“Could you give me a minute please?” You force a fake smile and open the curtain to head back to the counter, a little overwhelmed.

The bed next to them is occupied by  Seokjin who’s on his IV medication, and even when his ears were buzzing due to his fever, he could still hear the conversation happening next to him very easily since there’s only a curtain between them.

“Something’s suspicious.” She whispers and her father grits on his teeth before answering. “This is all your fault, we wouldn’t have gone through all this.”

“The night our cousin told us that he  saw Namjoon with someone—“

Seokjin’s eyes almost fall out of their socket when he hears the mention of Namjoon.

“—He came back the next day smelling exactly like the doctor’s perfume.”

Fuck, Seokjin gets a head rush when he rises up from his seat too quickly to turn off the IV fluid and leave the bed. He makes sure that he’s seen when he stands next to you really close and wraps his arm around your waist awkwardly.

You flinch and look at him, a little terrified by his sudden touch. “Wh—“

“Put your hand around me and shut up.” He whispers. A frown sits on your face and you’re a little too angry to be doing this nonsense with him. He can see the debate happening in your head so he presses on his teeth and whispers again. “Just do as I say.”

And you put your hand around him with a clear cringe on your face, before he speaks a little loud. “I was looking for you honey, where have you been?”

You scrunch your nose and tilt your head. “Huh?”

“I miss you.” He’s loud enough for them to hear, he presses a kiss onto your cheek and tugs your hair behind your ear. “O-oh, you have patients?”

You’re still confused and you’re seriously starting to think that the man may be hallucinating from his fever, “Get back to your patient, call me when you’re done.” And he simply leaves the emergency room.

Meanwhile her father looks at her and she looks back at him before he whispers. “She’s clearly married, stop over thinking.”

You turn and get back towards them with your arms crossed, you’ve had your time to think, and it’s a little last minute, but it’s time to initiate some sort of plan.

So you fully decide on giving them the report but before that you give them some false information and they seem to believe it. “Of course I’ll help you, we’ve helped women before and we’re glad to help you.” You even fake a smile. “But we need to give you the report sealed in an envelope so that the court could accept it, it’s something with the law I guess.” You shrug. “And I’m going to sign it with my name right by the seal so that they know it hasn’t been opened before.”

Her father has a smile of victory on his face and looks at his daughter who’s a little occupied looking at your fingers to see if you’re  actually wearing a ring or not, still not convinced with what she saw earlier. And luckily that day you were wearing your cheapest jewelry and you wore one of the rings on your left ring finger. Now she’s finally convinced.

“Please stay here, I’ll go write the report and have it ready for you.” You nod and get back to the counter to sit in front of the computer and start typing.

Her full name and age, her history and physical examination.

Before stating clearly, that there are no signs of abuse, no bruises, no signs of cuts or wounds, no fractures, her vital signs which indicate that she’s perfectly well, before signing your name and printing the paper and folding into an envelope and sealing it.

“There you go.” You gladly hand them the envelope, a little happy on the inside that you got to do something to prove Namjoon’s case. “Thank you so much.” Her father snatches the report from your hand, and he’s a split second away from opening it before you stop him. “Sir, if you opened that envelope you can’t give it to court and no one else can write you another one.”

“I have to read it.” He’s about to open it again but again you interrupt him, constant non true bullshit coming out your mouth. “Her name has been logged into our system with a copy of that report, if you open the envelope it wouldn’t be valid anymore and it may be used against you.”

And that’s what convinces him to stop, his daughter taking the report from him and putting it into her purse. “Thank you.” She gets up and drags her father out of the emergency room.

On her way out, your eyes pierce up and down her figure, of course you were judging her and comparing yourself to her, you know you’re way prettier than she is that you secretly wonder why did the man marry her to begin with.

You roll your eyes at your own thoughts, a little cocky for you to think like that, but oh well.

The moment they leave the emergency room you grab out your phone to see 3 texts and a missed call from Namjoon. You decide not to call him back and instead, call Seokjin to find out what the hell was going on.

And he explains the entire thing to you on the phone, and you’re now happy that he did what he did.

You text back Namjoon of course not letting him know what happened just now, before locking your phone and leaning your head back onto your chair.

A sudden heavy weight sits on your shoulders, and you feel a little too involved in Namjoon’s divorce even when you didn’t want to, which makes you genuinely upset. You now wish you liked a man who was single already and had nothing to go through,  no divorce, no custody, no nothing.

As she returns home with her father she locks the door and he sits onto the couch to clip the closed envelope with the divorce paper, “You better hide this well, he can’t see this do you understand?”

She nods and hesitates to blurt out. “I have something in mind, I know exactly how we can set him up.”

“I think this report is more than enough to get you your rights.” He doesn’t want to listen, totally insisting on doing everything his way. “After all, I can’t lose his father.”

“I know, and what I’m about to do is going to get me more than just my rights.” She holds onto her father. “I can promise you.”

“What are you planning to do?” He finally decides to listen.

-

A little over one week passed by and you and Namjoon still haven’t seen each other since you came back from the beach house, he’s been flying constantly and barely has the time to rest or see his son, and you’ve been working double shifts just to kill time.

Of course Hoseok never left you alone, even if you came back home feeling tired and sleepy, he would bring his papers and work on his cases even when you’re asleep, and by the time you’ve woken up he would’ve ordered food or cooked something. And some nights Yoongi came to sleep over when Mia went back to visit her family.

Hoseok’s plan worked perfectly as he wanted you and Namjoon to keep it low key, of course you had no idea, but he’s doing his best to protect you.

When Hoseok suddenly had “Plans” on a Friday night you knew that he’s hooking up with someone or found a new fling, of course you were home and you knew that Namjoon flies back today from Tokyo, his air carrier had shortage and they asked him to fly internationally even when he hasn’t in a long time.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I should.” You whine as you put the last dish  in the dishwasher, you’re video chatting with him as he’s driving to his place after landing. “Come on, we’re always hanging out at your place, this time I want you to come over.”

“Is Jay still in Ilsan?” You ask, you remember him telling you a few days ago that Jay’s at his grandparents’ place with his mom. “Yeah, they won’t be back until Friday.”

You take off your gloves and hang them by your sink before leaning your hand on your hip. “Namjoon, this is not a good idea.”

“Come on, please? You haven’t seen my place yet and—“ The call suddenly lags and the screen shows that the call is reconnecting, it seems to be that you’re on hold and he has another call, in the mean time you wash your hands and take the apron off before plopping down onto your bed until he connects again. “Sorry, I had to take this call.” This time his phone is in his hands as he seems to be reading something on his phone. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s an order that should be delivered to my place tonight.” He finally hangs his phone on his dashboard. “So what do you say? Should I come pick you up?”

“You don’t have to, I’ll take my car.”

“So you’re coming?” His pearly whites show in a smile wider than ever and you roll your eyes. “Alright.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, be quick okay? I’m going to order dinner.” He makes a turn, his eyes barely looking on the road as he’s trying to take quick glances of you.

“I’ll get ready right away, see you then.” You smile and wave your hands, he  waves back and blows you a kiss before hanging up.

You get up on your feet and rush to get ready, a pair of comfy jeans and an oversized button up with a pair of converse.

Namjoon on the other hand, gets home and locks the door before taking a quick glance around his  house, he starts picking up Jay’s scattered toys and putting them away into his son’s bedroom, he puts his carry on in his bedroom and gets in the shower, making sure he’s quick before you get here.

His door bell rings while he’s wrapping the towel around his  waist, he knows it’s not you because your house is a little far from his place, so he rushes to the door and opens the security cameras, he remembers  the package that was supposed to be delivered, but why is it here so early?

He opens the door and grabs the big package from the woman’s hands and puts it down. “Where do I sign?”

“Mister Kim.” She takes a single step closer and he automatically takes a step back as he feels uncomfortable and a little terrified, she lifts her hand to graze it onto his shoulder and chest as she takes another step closer, until she’s practically inside the house.

Of course it’s you who shows up at the right  time, the elevator doors opens and you take a walk down the aisle and turn to make your way to his apartment door, but what’s happening  in front you doesn’t need further explanation.

You made the effort to get him a passenger airplane Lego to put up together with him and at that second it was totally not worth the effort.

It hurts inside, and not because you’re jealous or anything, that’s way far behind you.

It hurts that you let yourself get o this place, you never got into a relationship because you know men can be heartless and mean, and now this happens right before your eyes and it physically hurts that you can’t do anything about it, you’re not the one to blame him because practically you two aren’t aa thing yet.

You can’t stop him from seeing other people, and he could so easily go hook up with someone and you can’t say anything about it, he’s a free man and he could do anything he wants, you don’t dare to take a step further, you simple put the Legos down and turn to get back into the elevator, you’re not even sure he saw you.

You don’t feel physically well and you feel the need to lean against the elevator walls, you’re hurt and you can’t deny that you’re a little… Embarrassed?

Yeah you’re embarrassed.

You’re embarrassed at the fact that the man who you told your friends was actually a good man despite he was married is apparently seeing other people, but goodness, everyone thought he was head over heels for you, how come did that happen?

Oh my god.

Your palm sits on your face when you realize how tragically stupid you sound, the man is married and you still like him??

The elevator door opens when you finally get to the ground floor and your phone starts ringing nonstop, of course it’s him. You rush to your car and get inside to drive away fast before he can catch onto you, and even when you’re now 5 minutes away from his place, he’s still calling and you finally decide to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you?” He worriedly asks and he’s out of breath.

There’s a very clear lump in your  throat when you speak. “Oh hey, I was just going to text you that I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Y/N, I saw the Legos, what did you see?”

You’re totally caught, and to avoid saying anything that you may regret later, you swallow and laugh awkwardly. “Namjoon, I just need some time alone, it’s okay.” By the way, it’s totally not.

“No, wait, Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” He speaks and you immediately stop him. “Yeah, you know what, I’m pretty sure it isn’t” Of course you’re not convinced. “But I need to be alone and think some stuff through.”

“Y/N—“

“Namjoon, I need to hang up, I’m driving, okay? I’ll see you around.” You take your phone off of your ear and it takes you a few seconds to press the red button and hang up the call.

Your shoulders sulk in disappointment when you exhale, your eyelids suddenly are getting heavier by the second, you need to lay down.

Your drive home took some time, when you finally get there and lock the door, you make your way to your bed and finally lay down with your clothes still on.

It hurts a little the fact that it’s been a while since you’ve spent a Friday night on your own, not that it’s specifically Namjoon whose been hanging out with you, but it was either you working, or you having plans with your friends, but tonight, your friends had their own plans.

You end up falling asleep way too early that night with your jeans on.

Utter shit is what Namjoon wakes up feeling like, he’s sweating and his head is pounding with a headache that he never experienced before.

Yes you’re hurt, but he thinks that you should’ve listened and that you’re being unfair to him.

This is the last thing he thinks of, he’s confused and wondering since when did the mail arrive out of schedule? This woman that delivered it wasn’t even in a certain uniform or anything.

Namjoon opens his mail and bank receipts to see  that the order was made over a month ago, but he wasn’t sent a mail that the package was delivered even when he just got it.

Something smells fishy and he can’t put a finger on it.

“Bingo.”

The CCTV finally falls in his wife’s hands, she even cropped and edited the video to get the desired part on tape.

Namjoon’s lawyer wanted concrete evidence? He got it.

-

“What do you want for your birthday?” You take a sip from  your wine, you and Hoseok were spending the afternoon at Jungkook’s place.

“You don’t have to get me anything.” The younger waves his hand shyly, “I just want us to celebrate it together, we could go party somewhere.”

“But we have to get you an actual gift.” Hoseok is way too focused onto the gaming console that Jungkook has. “We’re going to get you something anyway, you would make it a little easier if you actually said what you want.”

“Do you want handmade coupons like last year?” You giggle.

You two came up with this stupid idea, when you had no idea what to get him for his birthday, he asked you to do his dishes or cook him something or even do his laundry, so you handmade coupons that he could use whenever he wants throughout the year that had several chores written on them.

“This year I’m turning 27, I want 27 different coupons.” He asks and you rolls your  eyes. “Absolutely not, you’re only getting ten.”

Hoseok finally puts down the gaming console and crosses his legs. “We’ll party tomorrow in the club, and we can have dinner on Saturday.”

“You have a birthday weekend you brat, when it was my birthday all I got from you was a pack of condoms that I still have till this day and a happy meal.” You hit his shoulder, he rubs it and pouts. “You said you liked it.”

“Yeah, I lied.”

“I’ll tell everyone on the group chat.” Hoseok grabs out his phone, Jungkook turns towards you and asks. “Can Namjoon come?”

Right when you’re about to open your mouth, Hoseok  answers. “No.”

You were going to give Jungkook the same answer, but Hoseok didn’t want Namjoon to come just because he can’t be seen in public with someone when he’s going through a divorce.

“Why?” Jungkook’s doe eyes stare at you two in confusion as Hoseok explains  to him why he can’t come. “It’s going to be alright.” Jungkook’s arm wraps around you.

“I wonder if Seokjin can come too, how is he feeling?” Hoseok changes the topic and Jungkook looks at him in confusion again. “What happened?”

“He was tested positive for covid.” You nod your head. “But he’s fine now.”

They  still don’t know what you saw a week ago, and of course they can’t know.

The next day you finally get to the club, strobe lights on and off around the place, the speakers bursting out loud music that you feel pounding inside your eardrums, it’s the end of the summer so it was really crowded, the bar stools completely full and you could barely walk inside.

You roll your eyes when you see Jungkook in a party hat on his face and a pair of shades and a birthday whistle in between his lips. “There’s the birthday boy.” You wrap your arms around him and kiss him on the cheek, he hugs you back and lifts you up. “You look incredible.”

He’s right, you were in a short green velvety dress that had spaghetti straps and a slit down the thigh. You matched it with a pair of high heels. “I know, so do you.”

Jimin hugs you right after and pulls you the chair next to him to be seated right between him and Seokjin. You spend the first few minutes catching up even when you barely can hear each other from the loud music.

“Did you tell Hoseok about what happened in the ER?” Seokjin asks, Hoseok’s head snaps fast towards you two and leans in. “What happened?”

“Namjoon’s wife came in for a medical report.”

“And did you give it to them?”

“I have a copy of it on my phone if you want to.” You take your phone out from your purse before turning to Seokjin. “But I already told Hoseok that I don’t want to be involved in this case anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, while Hoseok grabs your phone from your hand to read the report. “It’s his divorce and his private life, It’s really consuming my mental wellness to just think about it.”

He understandably nods. “You’re right, that’s what I wanted to tell you from the very beginning.”

“You did a great job.” Hoseok gives you your phone back. “Did they read it?”

“Of course not, I had to lie and tell them that the court only takes closed reports.” A proud smile sits on Hoseok’s face. “Typical Y/N behavior.”

“Shut up.” You elbow him before getting up and dragging him and Seokjin to the dance floor with your drinks in your hands.

Time passed by so quick that night, you were having so much fun, and a bunch of drinks later, you and your friends are still on the dance floor and you feel yourself starting to shut down, you tap their shoulders and shout for them to hear. “I need to sit.” And they carelessly nod, you make your way to one of the bar stools and ask the bartender for a bottle of a water before looking back at the dance floor, giggling at your friends who were dancing all over Jungkook.

“Hey.” You hear a deep sound coming from behind you and you turn your head, a tall charming man leaning onto the bar with a drink in his hand, his dark hair up in a man bun and a grin sits on his plump red lips. “I’m Jaewook.”

Your eyes drift down to his hands as if your whole experience with Namjoon taught you a lesson the hard way. Your eyes are abruptly searching through his fingers for a ring which makes him follow your eye sight, you finally ask. “Are you married?”

“Excuse me?”

You don’t even blink nor repeat your question, you suddenly grow shameless and you’re not going to elaborate or take your question back, your eyebrow rises up as you maintain eye contact with him before he stutters. “N-no? I’m not.”

“I’m Y/N.” You reach your hand out to shake his, he shakes back your hand and takes a sip from his drink. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m done for tonight.” You cross your legs, you feel his eyes pierce through your entire body, his eyes are examining you head to toe, settling a little on your ass that’s sat on the stool.

You can’t not admit the man was attractive, and at this time and with your state of mind, you won’t mind flirting with him or even being flirted with, so you turn your face towards him and lean your elbow onto the bar. “Do you usually buy every girl you see a drink?”

He takes a step closer, his shoulder pressed against yours and leans closer towards your ear so you can hear him well. “Only pretty ones like you.”

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that the last time you had sex was weeks ago, but your body is reacting upon his touch and you shiver at his breath against your ear shell.

“Are you here with someone?”

“Just my friends.” You shrug, he nods and leans in again to ask. “So no boyfriend huh?”

It takes you a second to answer, a dry lump sits in your throat and you force yourself to swallow it and shake your head. “Nope, not at all.”

His lips twitch into a tiny grin before he brushes his fingers against your shoulder, “You wanna go dance?”

You lower your head to stare at his fingers before looking up into his eyes before you smirk. “Sure.”

He puts his drink down and offers you his hand, you take it and head to the dance floor with him, his hands sit onto your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck, both your bodies swaying together.

Biology works and as a man it’s a quite normal reaction for him to feel a little aroused that a pretty girl like you is alone and drunk, you agreed to dance with him, maybe you would agree going home with him?

His face sits in the crook of your neck and he prints the wettest most softest kiss ever almost as if he’s testing waters to see if you’d be okay with more than just dancing or not.

But your drunk and hazy mind can’t comprehend anything, you giggle and lean your head back. “Namjoon stop.”

Standing in front of you, the tall handsome man’s name is long forgotten and you realize you’re fucked when the name that escapes your lips is his name.

It hits you and it hits you harder than ever, that you’re actually pretty angry at him, and you’re even more upset at the fact that he didn’t try to call you nor contact you in any way.

You press hard onto your teeth and just wish that you actually helped his soon to be ex spouse with the fake medical report, Namjoon doesn’t deserve shit.

“Namjoon?”

You totally forgot the man standing in front of you.

Your nausea is creeping onto you and you pull back with your hand hovering over your stomach. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

You brush your shoulder against his as you walk past him to make your way towards your table, Seokjin is already sitting there drinking water. “Are you okay?”

You’re swallowing repeatedly trying to hold back from throwing up, you remember the last time this happened and it scarred you a little. But still you nod your head. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

The rest of the guys get seated and they bring out a bottle of champagne to pop and finally celebrate Jungkook’s birthday.

Yoongi lifts his glass up and starts making a toast but you’re not listening.

Your mind is somewhere else and you can’t really ignore the fact that you’re very bitter at Namjoon, he never even tried to apologize, the only thing this could mean is that you really mean nothing to him.

You scoff a little on the inside, once a cheater always a cheater, right?

He cheated on his own wife, the mother of his child with you, he could so easily go hook up with someone else and give them the same story and he won’t even be half sorry.

You take your phone out and hide it under the table before you send him a text.

“???”

Less than a minute after he reads the message before replying.

“You wanna talk?”

“To Jungkook!” Yoongi speaks and that’s the only thing you hear before clinking your glasses together. “To Jungkook.”

You take a sip from your champagne and get up onto your feet. “I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

You make your way outside the club and unlock your phone to call Namjoon, two rings after he answers. “Hello?”

“Listen Namjoon, if you think I texted you just because I wanted to talk things through then you’re wrong, you have to know that I deserve—“

Of course your slurred speech makes it hard for him to understand and he could so easily tell that you’re drink, since the music behind you is loud enough too, he knows you’re out. “Y/N? Are you drunk?”

You squint your eyes and your hand sits on your hip before you bite at him. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it does.” He even has the audacity to argue with the coldest tone ever. “Where are you?”

“You don’t have to know.” You feel yourself barely able to stand up, the alcohol now affecting you harder than before. “You know what, I’ll see you later.”

This jerk even hangs up, your jaw falls as you stare onto your phone screen in denial, you’re fuming on the inside and you wish you could just reach your fist through the phone and punch him to ease the fire building inside you.

-

“Are you sure you can make it upstairs on your own?” Seokjin asks when he drops you in front of your building, you’re about to open your mouth for an answer but Seokjin looks behind you and smiles. “I know you’re in safe hands now, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, how are you?”

Of course it’s Namjoon, you roll your eyes and don’t even turn towards him, his hand sits on your lower back as he handshakes Seokjin. “I heard you tested positive, how are you feeling now?”

The two spend a couple minutes catching up together, of course none of your friends know about what happened with him, you didn’t want to tell them just to avoid the embarrassment, and at this exact moment when they catch up and chat specifically, you’re really glad you didn’t tell them.

“Drive safe.” You force a smile to Seokjin before he finally gets into his car and drives away, you make your way inside the building totally ignoring the fact that Namjoon is shadowing you, his hands fighting the urge to touch you, and his entire body is on standby worried that you may stumble or fall or anything.

You click the button of the elevator and cross your arms, awkward silence and tension building between the two of you , your eyelids and tongue feel heavy and you’re having a headache so of course you’re not going to argue with him.

Just treat him as if he doesn’t exist, you think.

He’s completely sober though and he’s sinking in his own pond of thoughts, wondering where to start from? How to explain himself? How should he even apologize? He knows he looks like utter trash to you now and he’s not in a good place in front of you, but he’s innocent.

The elevator door closes on the two of you and you cross your arms as you’re standing in the middle of the elevator, your eyes focused on the numbers of floors increasing every 5 seconds.

Your apartment is in the 16th floor so you know your trip is going to take some time.

He leans against the elevator walls, his eyes locked onto you from behind, his palms and back are getting sweaty even when it wasn’t a hot night, he’s nervous and he doesn’t recall the last time his fight or flight worked this hard.

The elevator rings when it stops on the desired floor and you walk out of it, your heels being the only sound heard through the aisle, you reach to your door to click onto the password and unlock it, you walk inside and he follows you in.

You lift one leg up to try and take off your heels before you stumble and lose your gait, him being on standby benefits you when he supports you with his own body, his hands sitting onto your forearms. “You’re okay, let me help you.”

You want to push him back so bad but you really can’t spare the effort to take off your heals, and if you were alone you would’ve probably slept in them. He gets down on one knee and helps you with the pair, of course you don’t bother thanking him or anything, you just make your way inside to your bedroom and put your phone and purse down.

“Namjoon—“ You start before he presses his lips against yours for one single kiss, he leans his forehead against yours with his hands hovering over your hips. “Y/N, you’re tired and drunk, please let me take care of you, and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

You have so many things to say but you physically can’t, your eyelids are shutting down and you feel yourself near falling asleep, you don’t remember when was the last time you were this drunk, tonight you went way overboard.

He stands behind you and his shaky hands unzip your dress before he pulls you into the bathroom, he slides your dress off of you and assists you to get in the shower, he helps you shampoo your hair and bathes you before wrapping your bathrobe around your body, his top a little wet from the water splashing onto him.

You  sit on the covered toilet before he hands you your toothbrush, you groan because you barely have the power to be seated, and he wants you to brush your teeth?

He grabs the hair dryer and dries your hair before helping you rinse your teeth and go to bed. “There you go.” He lifts the blanket for you to lay down and you do right after taking off your bathrobe, he tucks you in bed and turns off the lights, before walking to the other side and laying beside you.

-

The next morning you wake up surprisingly without a headache, you had your fair share the night before and you went to the bathroom a few times during the night, so the alcohol is probably out of your system.

You feel cold so you cuddle onto the blanket and look at the air conditioning remote to see it turned off, the weather is getting colder indeed, but you look under the blanket to find out that you’re completely naked. Your eyes almost fall from their sockets, did you come home with anyone last night?

You look over at the empty space behind you, it seems like someone slept next to you but you don’t remember who it was, were you really that drunk?

You hear your coffee machine buzzing from the kitchen which makes you flinch in bed, someone is actually with you and you’re starting to get a little scared, especially when the footsteps are getting closer to your bedroom.

You’re a little relieved but a little angry when you realize it’s Namjoon holding your favorite mug filled with coffee and walking into your bedroom. “Good morning.” His stupid dimple again, ugh.

“Yeah.” Your hand moves to your head to scratch it before you rub your eyes, and suddenly you remember everything that happened last night, well practically nothing happened, but you still remember some bits here and there. “Good morning.” You clear your throat as you sit up, holding the blanket closer to your chest, he hands you the cup of coffee and a couple pills of pain killer. “Thank you.”

You don’t need the painkillers so you put them onto the night stand and take a few sips from the coffee in order for your brain to start functioning. “How are you feeling?”

“Why are you here?” You ask calmly, your eyes not bothering to look up at him. He laughs quietly before sitting onto the edge of the bed and answers. “I know you’re mad and upset, but believe me, what you saw wasn’t true.”

“Oh so was I seeing things?” You take another sip from your coffee. “Or was I hallucinating that you were with someone else right by your door with only a towel on?”

“Y/N—“

“You know what.” You put your mug down before holding your hands together. “I’m so glad this happened, and the more I think about it, it’s fine, I just didn’t know that we were allowed to hook up with other people, it’s a good thing I found out so I don’t have to be careful, that’s all.”

The thought itself disturbs Namjoon, not the fact that you don’t believe him, but at the fact that you were implying that you can hook up with other people, he’s a little irritated at the thought of you being touched or kissed by someone other than him.

“After all, it really was just a hookup.” You shrug, he shakes his head in denial before he process a couple words out of his mouth. “It wasn’t true, I have no idea how to prove it to you but it is not true.”

You nod your head totally not convinced before grabbing your mug again and taking a few sips from it. “Can you get me something to wear?”

He rises up on his feet and opens your closet to grab you out a pair of shorts and a top. “You’re being unfair to me.”

“Okay.” You keep drinking your coffee, totally unbothered by his excuses, and it seems like he’s getting angrier by the second before he turns to you. “If I wanted to be with someone else I would’ve told you.”

“Sure.”

“And you think I would’ve messed with someone else right by the door? Where everyone can see me?” He shuts the closet, your clothes still sitting in his hand. “Nope.” You’re slowly driving him out of his mind, and it shocks you the amount of self control this man has. Even when your behavior was irritating him, he still contained himself.

“You won’t even listen when I tried to explain myself, and that was totally unfair.” He walks closer, you reach your hand out to grab your clothes, but he argues again. “I will prove it, I actually thought you trusted me, I thought we had something.”

You rub your eyes in frustration when he won’t actually hand you the clothes, “You know what, let’s just imagine if the whole thing happened with me, what would you do?”

He crosses his arms before answering. “I would actually listen before assuming anything, especially when I know that you have people around you trying to set you up like people are doing to me.”

He’s partially right, it could be someone trying to set him up and screw up his divorce.

You’re an inch away from being actually convinced, before you remember that the man once pretended to be single and never mentioned his marriage, and again you’re back to point zero.

You forgive him for doing it but you can’t forget it at all, of course you’re not going to bring it up because you agreed to hook up with him even after you knew he was involved in a relationship.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” You shrug your shoulders, “You can do anything you want to, you’re a free man and I can’t be in the way.”

He sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed and he whispers. “I want to be with you.”

You look into his eyes and you see regret and disappointment all over his face, similar to the time you saw him in Ilsan right after you found out about his marriage. “I don’t think I’m worthy, but I’m selfish enough to actually want you. I lied to you once and I can’t forgive myself, you were there for me every day for the past few months and it makes me feel guilty for doing you wrong so bad.”

You don’t let your emotions control you, your brain is much of a hard worker than your heart is, so you shrug again and look down. “I don’t know Namjoon, you have to give me some time, and we have to know where your divorce is going, so many things happened and I don’t think you know.”

His face changes and his eyebrows form a knot between them, “What happened?”

[guillotine-drop]

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — mansion parties

aeri uchinaga's mansion, gangnam-gu, seoul, korea.

WARNINGS ; intoxication, implied coercion, peer pressure, cheating, gaslighting, driving under the influence, drugs (cannabis usage), illegal substance use (5.1k)

yoo jimin loved parties.

she loved the faint smoke in the air, blurring the dim lights as swirls danced around above the twenty-something olds in the house. the rum, although cheap, gave her a sense of comfort that she knew all too well.

the dullness, the nausea. everything was perfectly disastrous. a concoction of all her dreams and hopes that amount to nothing but a strained knee, and years of aggravation to be overshadowed by her junior.

but most of all, she loved the smell of weed. it was almost as intoxicating as the leers girls would give her, undressing her with their eyes as she walked across the room.

she was wanted. she was loved.

jimin knew it was just for her body, for her face that she just happened to be gifted with. she knew that people would wage war just to look like her.

she was yoo jimin.

she hated it.

she hated the weight of her name, the last memory of her father dangling in front of her, mocking her like she does to herself in front of her mirror. she hated her face, the world too shallow to see the girl beneath, exhausted beyond belief. she hated her anger, volatile and quick to rise, none of which she had (nor wanted) control over.

she hated it. she hated herself. she hated everything. she hated the divorce, she hated the volleyball net that always seemed too high, she hated-

"minnie?"

she knew that voice.

it echoed in the back of her head when she didn't run fast enough, when she didn't play hard enough, when she looked at herself in the mirror and all she saw was a washed-out athlete.

it rang through her ears and into her veins when she saw jang wonyoung... when she saw l/n y/n.

jimin heart dropped, and despite her entire body screaming - begging, she turned, the heaviness in her chest crushing the remnants of her heart.

"yeji?"

y/n's anxiety was at an all-time high.

although part of her was ecstatic to finally stand her ground, a bigger part was terrified.

jimin was horrifying when she was angry, and y/n refused to see the sight of a blood-splattered, fist-shaped imprint on the wall again.

her eyes darted methodically, scanning the crowd of university alumni and students every few seconds before repeating.

once to the right, where choi yena was doing a keg stand near the kitchen (or trying to despite alexandra baek's very adamant demands for her to shut up and slow down), once to the middle where a sea of people crowded the entrance to the mansion foyer embellished with intricate swirls of gold and red, and once to the left where the room extended to a greater, much bigger hall that seemed to be the dining room.

there was no sign of jimin, and y/n didn't know if that scared her or reassured her.

"you okay?" minjeong grabbed her hand, squeezing it lightly.

despite the older girl's effort to reassure her, it only worsened the churning in her stomach. minjeong's icy hands were a reminder of her anxieties, and if it weren't for her iron grip, y/n would've pulled away.

"jimin's gonna kill me, unnie." y/n looked again. right, middle, left. "i shouldn't be here."

she's gonna kill me. she's really gonna kill me.

"you'll be fine." yuri grabbed her shoulder, smiling at the girl as if y/n's body wasn't screaming for her to leave the uchinaga residence. "just get drunk out of your mind and you'll forget all about her."

y/n shook her head, her palms tingling from the heightened fear.

being drunk meant lowering her guard, and that meant there was a higher chance of jimin seeing her.

y/n couldn't have a repeat of her last party at the uchinaga's.

"what if she finds me?" y/n felt like a colony of bees had overtaken her lungs.

minjeong looked at the two other girls, the worry etched on y/n's face setting waves of deja vu through them. she could feel the slight tremble of her hand, and the uncharacteristic waver of her voice.

she knew what this was. it was pure, unadulterated fear.

kim minjeong really hated yoo jimin.

"she won't." minju smiled, her eyes sincere despite the fear swirling through them. "we'll be here."

so will jimin. y/n couldn't help but think.

"yeah, unnie!" jiwon spoke up, her smile beaming past the others' dim ones. the younger girl was the only one out of all of them who hadn't truly experienced what jimin could do. "plus, i'm planning on staying sober."

y/n envied the girl, forgetting at that moment that she was dating the latter.

minju scoffed, her eyes rolling. "like i'm letting you drink."

jiwon glanced at her older sister, and that was enough for the girls' to know how the university freshman actually felt.

yuri crossed her arms, y/n scanning the right once more to hear the loud cheers chanting yena's name.

"you are such a buzz kill, kim minju."

minjeong followed the girl's eyes, grimacing at the older girl who seemed to be drowning in beer.

"the hell am i supposed to do?" minju's eyes scanned jiwon's face. "let her drink? she said she didn't want to."

jiwon looked at yuri, almost pleading with her to stop (or to continue. yuri wasn't that good at reading people).

"jiwon. baby kim." yuri squished the taller girl's cheeks. jiwon's face turned bright red, both from the proximity of yuri, and from the unsettling prescence of minju's anger. "do you want to drink?"

minju looked at her, an eyebrow-raising.

jiwon bit her tongue, not wanting to anger the older girl by commenting on how much she looked like their mom at that exact moment.

"um-"

minjeong's head turned back to the three, while y/n busied herself scanning the entire visible area for jimin.

she couldn't forget about jimin again. forgetting about jimin meant letting her guard down. y/n can't let down her guard, not when jimin is high, drunk, or both.

lily morrow knew what happened when y/n did.

"you can say yes, you can say no." yuri let go of jiwon's face, patting her shoulder lightly as smoke blew behind her. "but i'm only accepting it if it's your decision."

jiwon took a glimpse at her older sister, using the same guideline as she does with her mom.

one eyebrow arched was a warning, two eyebrows furrowed meant she was safe, and a frown meant she were in trouble for a light scolding. no expression meant jiwon was fucked.

minju currently had a frown.

"but minju-unnie-"

"fuck her." yuri inturpted, as if the vice president of the student council was no where near the two. "yes or no?"

jiwon stared at minju, trying to decipher her as y/n scanned the room again.

her sister's frown deepened at jiwon's hesitance, while yuri's appeared.

"...yes."

jiwon glanced.

minju had no expression.

"minjeong." yuri's voice dripped with pure happiness. "take her to the booze."

minjeong looked at y/n, then at yuri.

"why me?"

she didn't want to leave y/n when she was in this state, but god, did she love pissing minju off.

"you're the only one here that doesn't drink because of your ibs."

minjeong felt y/n stiffen, and for a moment she thought that the younger girl had seen the devil herself, but when she turned, y/n was staring at her... giggling.

"it's not ibs." minjeong felt her nose go red. "it's acid reflux, you idiot."

yuri shrugged, moving jiwon towards the older girl. "it still comes out of some hole."

y/n cleared her throat, and although minju was fuming, she couldn't help but let a chuckle escape.

"i'll kill you." minjeong let go of y/n, glaring at yuri as if her eyes were lasers. "minju, please stay with y/n so the yena groupie doesn't get her blackout drunk."

yuri punched the girl's shoulder.

"i think i should go with you." minju tried to reason, minjeong rubbing her arm as yuri stuck her tongue out at her. "jiwon's my sister-"

"i'll watch her." minjeong reassured. "i'm stupid, not irresponsible."

"but-"

"say bye-bye, baby kim."

jiwon grinned timidly, the dimple on her cheek not even showing. "sorry, unnie."

minjeong led the younger girl to the right, passing the keg stand that yena had absolutely failed at and making a beeline to the kitchen.

minjeong's eyes lightened as she ushered jiwon closer to what looked like spiked punch.

handing jiwon a cup, minjeong took a closer inspection at the pletohra of tiny, colorful bags with labels of THC printed on the bottom.

of course, the uchinaga family would have access to oversea's cannabis (not that minjeong minded).

thirty minutes later, the party was finally in full swing, the three-story mansion at full capacity, the bass of the built-in speakers shaking the it lightly.

zico played through the speakers while the smoke was starting to accumulate into a thick fog. the ceiling was covered in a light mist, flowing through the airducts and out to the many vents of the house. the smell of skunk was sure to stain the furniture for a couple of days, but aeri was sure that a couple (dozen) canisters of febreze would do the trick.

gaeul managed to squeeze the door open from the outside, smog immediately exiting as the other girl's entered.

"this is why you don't drink and drive, ahn yujin."

"i know." yujin blushed, closing the door with a sheepish smile. "we got it fixed though? plus the repairs are less than six hundred thousand won, so we'll be fine."

gaeul looked at her for a moment, rei shaking her head in the back as wonyoung scanned the area from right to the left.

"are you insane?"

"the road was blurry, okay?" yujin frowned, making her way in front of the shorter girl to push past the sea of people. "how was i supposed to know it was a curb?"

gaeul heard her name, and she waved to one of the girls that she had already forgotten the name of. she looked familiar, most likely from after a game, or practice, or class. gaeul couldn't remember.

yujin looked at gaeul.

"maybe with your eyes, unnie." rei rolled her eyes. she looked at wonyoung. "i hope y/n and them are still here."

wonyoung shook her head. "they might've left already."

gaeul scanned the room once more. ryujin told her she was gonna be here, and the setter wasn't in the mood to see her right now. her focus was on wonyoung, and getting the girl moderately tispy.

yujin bit her lip, looking at the tall girl with a frown. "sorry, wonnie."

"it's okay, unnie." wonyoung sighed, rei's eyes staring at the back of her head. "i don't think she even likes me, as delusional as i am."

delusional. gaeul knows that word too well.

gaeul turned to look at yujin, expecting her bright, puppy-like smile, but familiarity was something that was ingrained in her psyche, and there was nothing more familiar than the girl who ruined her life.

"she's delusional." yujin grinned, looking at the older girl. "right, gaeul-unnie?"

hwang yeji. all she saw was hwang yeji.

yujin stopped, "gaeul-unnie?"

she shouldn't have come today.

"hey, wonnie?" gaeul eyes were dull, just like the first day she met the younger girl. "wanna get shit-faced?"

jimin wanted to go home.

she wanted to feel the comfort of her ikea duvet, and watch the shitty drama that she'd fall asleep to on days when practice was hard. jimin wanted her laptop, where she'd rewatch her gameplay again and again, dissecting every little mistake until it eventually tore into her self worth. she wanted the glare of her phone, her heart fluttering as she texted y/n.

she wanted everything but this, everything but the reminder of yeji.

"jesus, jimin." aeri hobbled the taller girl into the living room, greeting the people she passed. "it's only one and you're already slurring your words."

"she asked me how i am." jimin laughed maniacally. "who does she think she is?"

aeri frowned, her hand patting the small of jimin's back.

"can you sit down?" aeri sighed, leaning over as jimin toppled onto her beige couch. "i swear to god, if you throw up on my carpet i will kill you."

jimin smiled.

"is that a promise?"

"stop it." aeri brushed her hair out of her face, the volleyball player's eyes trained on the dome-shaped ceiling. jimin wondered if she could play volleyball at this state. "i'm gonna get you water. you better stay put or i'll shove a vodka glass up your nostril."

jimin hummed, not hearing a response after.

she wondered if aeri had left, or if she was just staring at the girl in disappointment. it didn't matter. either way, jimin knew she was the latter.

sighing, she turned her head to the foyer, the door opening slightly as a figure managed to squeeze through.

huh.

jimin stood up.

the girl was her height. her face seemed tailored, almost too perfect to be natural but jimin knew it was. and her eyes. she knew them anywhere. the tired, unsatisfied swirl of dissatisfaction was a trait that she too, held.

it was like staring at a mirror.

"hey."

"um," the girl looked innocent, and jimin couldn't help but smile. "hello?"

"you're nakamura kazuha, right?"

kazuha blinked at her. "yeah?"

"yoo jimin." jimin pointed at herself, trying hard not to slur her words more than she should. "i'm yunjin's close friend."

close friend was a stretch that jimin was willing to take if that meant she was going to get laid.

"oh?" kazuha didn't look convinced. "yunjin's never mentioned you."

"i swear, that bitch." jimin laughed as if her and the middle blocker were anywhere near speaking terms. "are you looking for her?"

"yeah." kazuha sighed, tiredly. "is she here yet?"

jimin bit her tongue. she guessed that yunjin's phone had died a while ago, seeing as the girl had been here to help yena and her stupid pack of helpers set up for today.

whatever. her loss.

"not yet." jimin shook her head, the younger girl somehow believing her. "i could wait for her with you if you want. there's some jello shots and fireballs in the sunroom."

the ballerina looked at her, scanning her face and stopping at her mouth. a hunger, jimin deduced, was what she was seeing in huh yunjin's girlfriend.

jimin couldn't help but mentally thank aeri for letting her use her lip gloss.

"i don't think i should."

jimin's dark, hazy eyes captured kazuha's.

"it wouldn't hurt." kazuha hesitated. it took everything in jimin just to push once more, to not leave the girl alone. "c'mon, you're gonna let yunjin have all the fun?"

kazuha looked around. it was wrong to entertain a drunk girl, especially when she was in a relationship. "uh, i don't-"

"kazuha-ssi." jimin smiled, her teeth never showing and neither her intentions. "i'm not taking no for an answer."

jimin watched the girl, and the party roared as kazuha came to her decision.

"just one shot."

"good." perfect, even. "now, stay close. i don't want you getting lost."

kazuha looked at the side of jimin's face, and all she saw was a ballerina's dream. perfection.

"thank you, jimin-ssi." kazuha blushed.

jimin couldn't wait to see how this played out.

"thank you."

yuri had lost minju in the crowd earlier.

usually, the girl would've been aggravated, trying to find her vice president who seemed to like to wander the halls when she was drunk out of her mind, blabbering about her lover or something.

luckily, said lover had taken the girl away, and part of yuri finally understood why minju was so hung up on kim chaewon. the singer was always there, and so was minju. despite chaewon never saying the l word, her constant presence in minju's life was telling enough.

if only her and yena were like that.

yuri stumbled around, going through the pool entrance as a tipsy (drunk) y/n steadied her.

"alexandra!"

alex's face dropped as she talked to yena. "oh my god."

the international student turned to the very drunken girl, yena following her as if she hadn't just puked in the bushes of the uchinaga residence.

"holy fuck."

yena looked at her younger friend, wondering why she had kept this random girl away from her grasp.

she stood up, wiping the spit from her mouth as yuri approached. she needed to look at least put together if she wanted to pull, and not some alcoholic that got held back a year. behind her, yena recognized y/n, her cat-like eyes impossible to mistake for someone else.

yuri threw herself onto alex, as yena scanned y/n.

"aren't you wonnie's ex slash jimin's new plaything?"

plaything?

"unnie."

"what?" yena shrugged. the entire team knew about y/n one way or another, considering that jimin tended to dangle the girl in front of wonyoung like a dog treat. "is she not?"

y/n tightened her jaw. "i'm jimin's girlfriend."

"yeah, okay." jimin did always like them delusional. "that's what they all say."

yuri looked at y/n, part of her sobering up and ready to fight the love of her life if it came to (perhaps it would be a great story for their future kids).

"all?"

"unnie," alex nudged her. "stop it."

"what?" yena whined, tired of getting scolded by the younger girl. "she's not even jimin's type."

alex was at her limit.

"i will sew your mouth shut."

"no." y/n ushered, her brain not fully registering what was happening. jimin couldn't have been cheating on her. sure, she was an asshole, but jimin loved her, right? "let her continue."

alex closed her eyes, praying that yena would keep her mouth shut just for a moment.

"it's not my fault that jimin likes to fuck pretty things." yena muttered, her words loud enough to echo in y/n's brain.

"dude."

"it's not like she's actually jimin's girlfriend."

"are you dumb?" alex closed her eyes, yuri glancing at the younger girl beside her. "she is. and you just told her that her girlfriend is cheating on her."

jimin wouldn't cheat. she loved y/n. she was the one who stayed, the one who was there when wonyoung had left her many months ago. she was the one who held her close and whispered that everything was going to be okay as long as she had her.

jimin couldn't have.

"jimin's cheating on me?"

"um..." alex scratched her cheek lightly, unsure of what to do as yena undressed yuri with her eyes. "jimin likes people... things that look like her. so she can ruin them, i guess."

yena turned to her, frowning.

"should you be airing this out?"

"fuck yoo jimin." alex rolled her eyes, her brown irises glaring at the blue water in front of her. "she ruined my life."

"yeji ruined your life."

"she is yeji."

yeji. y/n had heard that name before, but never from jimin.

she had mentioned it in passing once, and jimin made her swear to never utter the word again. y/n held the older girl for the rest of the night, her thoughts lingering about who yeji was.

jimin told her not to worry about it, because it didn't matter. because jimin loved her.

"jimin wouldn't cheat on me."

"maybe she did, maybe she didn't," alex continued, watching as an exchange student from japan jumped into the pool head first. "but parties are her playground, and she doesn't stop at just one."

yena nodded, "she's like archie in riverdale."

alex turned to the older girl. "are you high?"

"yes."

"wh-" she should've stayed home and studied. "i'm going to strangle you."

y/n felt sick.

y/n turned around, leaving in a hurry to find the girl she was desperately avoiding since earlier. everything was wrong, and she needed wonyoung jimin. she needed her girlfriend.

"y/n!" yuri shouted, too tired to chase after her. she watched as the younger girl's figure disappeared into the crowd. "minju's gonna kill me."

"so," yena started, not caring that yuri's friend just had a massive breakdown in front of her. "wanna go somewhere private?"

yuri looked back at where y/n left, the sea of people erasing the girl's path without a trace.

minju was going to kill her, but she was going to kill herself for letting an opportunity like this pass.

"where the hell is aeri?"

there was something therapeutic about being high and drunk at the same time.

it had the same feeling of a midjump, where jimin's eyes were above the net, looking down at everyone who looked down on her.

she loved it.

"kazuha-ssi." jimin asked, downing another shot. "how long have you and yunjin been together?"

"huh?" kazuha was clearly drunk, her hand placed comfortably around jimin's waist. "a couple months."

jimin hummed, leaning in slightly so the younger girl could hear her better.

"do you love her?" jimin's hot breath grazed the hairs on kazuha's neck.

"i dunno." she didn't. "maybe."

"i see." jimin pulled back, assessing the disappointment that lingered in kazuha's eyes. the opposite hitter moved her hair out of her face. "you're really pretty, by the way."

"so are you."

jimin didn't need to be reminded.

"want some eddies?" she asked, her hand feeling lighter than usual.

"weed?" kazuha's dark eyes met jimin's. "i thought you weren't supposed to take them when you're drunk."

"it's fun when you're not supposed to do things but still do them." jimin said, her hand dangerously high to the ballerina's thigh. "right, kazuha-ssi?"

kazuha looked at her for a moment.

"where are they?"

and everything fell into place.

"let's go upstairs."

minjeong was a thousand percent high out of her mind.

she wasn't sure how much she had taken, but the way her head felt like it was going to explode was enough to say that it was too much. the colors around her seemed brighter, and she didn't know how long she had been lounging in the kitchen, but all she knew was people kept disappearing and appearing in front of her.

she didn't mind though, because jiwon was a talkative drunk, and everything that she was saying made minjeong want to pee her pants.

the girl looked at the five empty packets, wondering why they were all different colors and flavors.

"rei!" jiwon shook her, and it felt like she was getting time warped. "unnie, look it's rei!"

"yeah," minjeong couldn't stop smiling, despite seeing wonyoung. "i can see that."

"i was looking for you." rei frowned, earning a gag from yujin beside her. "it's been an hour."

"huh?" jiwon basically yelled, making minjeong giggle at her theatrics. "that's why my phone was dinging."

rei smiled. "are you drunk?"

"i think so?" jiwon grabbed minjeong by the arms, and the older girl felt them stop working. "minjeong-unnie, am i drunk?"

"yes." minjeong tried to nod, but it looked more like a bobble. "you are."

"where's y/n-unnie?" rei asked once more, wonyoung perking up despite minjeong's distaste.

"um, i dunno." jiwon shrugged. "she was with yuri-unnie and minju-unnie earlier i think."

minjeong leaned up, the weight of her head heavy on her neck.

her eyes made their way to the stairs, where she could see a faint smile on a familiar face, her hand wrapped around the waist of a stranger.

yoo jimin.

"oh." rei hummed. "so they're not here?"

"no."

"wonyoung!" minjeong could hear the taller girl getting called by yuna. still, she didn't take her eyes off jimin. "drink this, and let's go."

"i don't think-" wonyoung tried to protest, but yuna had already shoved the shot glass down her throat.

"drink."

wonyoung was dragged away, presumably to the front where a huge game of cham-cham-cham was happening.

"can you watch her?" minjeong looked at rei, yujin too distracted watching gaeul make out with girl #4 of the night to respond. "i need to see something."

"minju-unnie said to not leave me." jiwon frowned, her eyes wide like a cartoon character.

"then don't tell minju."

"okay."

wonyoung entered the bathroom, both pleased and surprised that there were neither people hooking up, nor a passed-out girl in the bathtub.

she just needed to stay here until yuna had gotten tired and found another person to harrass (most likely haewon, wherever that girl was).

she closed the toilet lid, sitting on it as she grabbed her phone. wonyoung had only been here for an hour and her feet were already killing her.

the door opened.

wonyoung yelped, the stranger covering her eyes. "sorry, i didn't know that-"

"y/n?"

y/n moved her hand out of her face.

"wonyoung?" y/n world slowed for a moment, and it was almost as if her guard broken down. she shook her head. "i can't deal with this right now. i have to find jimin."

"what?" that didn't sound right to wonyoung's ears. she stood up, pulling y/n into the washroom. "are you okay?"

"i-" y/n's face was flushed red, the hairs on the back of her neck clung to her like a koala on a tree. "where's jimin?"

"i don't know." wonyoung said slowly, ushering the girl to sit down on the closed toilet lid. "do you need water?"

"i need to find jimin."

"slow down." wonyoung guided the girl, her delusions pushed aside for a moment. "sit down. please."

"i can't." y/n shook her head, almost vomiting at how quick she did. "jimin-"

"can wait." wonyoung stated, grabbing her purse as she rummaged through it. "water? lipgloss? tissue?"

there was a moment of silence, and wonyoung was afraid she had hallucinated y/n to begin with.

"do you hold everything in your bag?"

"maybe." wonyoung smiled at the earnest chuckle y/n gave her. "so what would you like?"

"water."

wonyoung nodded, handing the girl a bottle of spring water that the volleyball player always had at least one of. y/n couldn't help but smile as the taller girl opened it for her.

wonyoung was the same, and she loved it.

she handed y/n the bottle, the older girl taking a sip before closing it. she could feel the heat from her cheeks emitting against the cold air of the newly renovated bathroom

"did you ever cheat on me?"

"what?" wonyoung's eyes buldged out almost comedically. "no, oh my god. i love you. why would i? did you think i did?"

wonyoung paused for a moment.

did she just...

"no." y/n shook her head, smiling at her in the way wonyoung remembered. "i don't think you did."

wonyoung hummed, pushing the shower curtain aside as she sat on the edge of the golden tub. "do you think jimin-sunbaenim did?"

y/n shrugged. "i don't know."

she didn't want to know, because she knew that deep down, she had hoped jimin did cheat on her.

sensing the uneasiness of the older girl, wonyoung scooted closer to her, the chattering of the other university kids muffled by the bathroom door.

it was almost surreal, if not for the scrubbing bubbles that aeri (or her many butlers and maids) had left on the counter.

"do you like the party?" wonyoung asked.

"huh?" y/n looked over to wonyoung, her eyes glossed over with thought, as if a sheen had covered its entirety. "i guess. it's loud, i'm drunk. you know."

"i do." wonyoung chuckled, her eyes falling down to y/n's hand. there was a slight fidgeting, but it was fading. wonyoung continued to talk. "have you tried yena-unnie's cotton candy shot yet?"

"no."

"it's good." wonyoung had been forced to drink it earlier that week, along with soy soju, apple cider rum and fish sauce vodka. "it tastes like that chocolate we had during first-year orientation."

"i remember!" y/n's eyes brightened in a way they hadn't before. "the one in front of the spanish club sign-up sheet."

wonyoung looked at y/n.

embarrassed, y/n began to fidget once more. "did i remember it wrong?"

"no." wonyoung shook her head. "i'm just wondering how you remembered it so clearly."

safe. y/n felt safe and warm.

the swarm of bees in her chest had morphed into butterflies, and everything felt like a 90s movie, just how she liked it.

just how wonyoung liked it.

"i miss you."

wonyoung stared at y/n.

"what?"

"y/n!" minjeong burst through the door, her eyes red and her stance wobbly. "wonyoung?"

wonyoung looked at the older girl, before minjeong grabbed y/n in a rush.

wonyoung followed them closely, not trusting the inebriated kim minjeong.

"minjeong-unnie?" y/n could feel her wrist starting to hurt. "where are we going?"

"somewhere." minjeong shoved past the swarm, earning curses and complains in her wake. behind her, wonyoung apologized as she continued to tail them.

minjeong turned around. "can you leave us alone?"

"no."

"fucking bitch." minjeong's grip tightened, making y/n wince slightly. "this isn't your business."

"you're high out of your mind right now." wonyoung countered, minjeong's eyes dilated beyond belief. "i don't trust you."

"very fucking original, wonyoung." minjeong laughed, her anger getting amplified by the substance inside her. "you want a medal? or are you gonna trade y/n for that too?"

"unnie."

minjeong turned around, yanking y/n upstairs faster than she could keep up. "let's go."

the older girl turned the first right at the top of the staircase, the lack of people making y/n feel unsettled. she shouldn't be here, this wasn't her house.

before she could protest, minjeong let go of her arm and gestured to the door.

"open this door." y/n could hear faint moaning inside. "open it."

"i don't know-"

"open the fucking door!" minjeong shouted, making y/n flinch into wonyoung.

wonyoung shoved minjeong slightly, but not hard enough to provoke the girl.

"watch what you're saying."

"oh suck me a dick, jang wonyoung." minjeong rolled her eyes.

minjeong hated how wonyoung was trying to play the hero in the story, as if she wasn't the cause of the entire ordeal.

not wanting to anger minjeong any further, y/n creaked the door open, the occupants too lost in their own world to notice a pair of eyes watching them.

y/n had felt this before, the day that wonyoung had left her.

"jimin?"

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[moongreenlight]

It's WIP Wednesday and I'm thinking so hard about “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)” by Father John Misty that my head explodes.

Retired!Price x Divorcee/single mom!reader (titles are hard who cares)

Cw/Tw: Pressure to perform sex/sexual acts

Little 1k blurb that ends right before the smut because I just got done ovulating and the thought of writing about cock and dick is not in the cards rn.

There was never much time to date while John was working. Never enough of him to occupy all of his work and pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to spread himself thin enough to coat the surface of all his wants.

He tried for a few years, early, when he could stay out late and still feel alright putting in a full day’s work the next morning. But he’s a romantic at heart. Never found much appeal to a fast-and-loose lifestyle and eventually stopped looking for trouble in places he would find it.

He was now alone, but with more time to figure out what he really wanted after retiring. Had more of himself to portion out. Pursued his hobbies. Picked up odd contracting jobs out of a need to keep himself busy. Found trouble with a single mother and recent divorcee who hired him off of an online ad because she needed help with a few things around her new house.

He knew he was in for it the moment she opened the door. Asked her out while he was half inside a cupboard under her sink. She said no twice.

Third time’s the charm.

She must have been put on one of those religious conveyor belts and turned out like she was on a factory line- that or she had parents to piss off. Married, turned out two kids, and split young. Must have been straight out of high school, because now that the divorce is finalized she’s cheating her way through a business degree at the community college around her day job.

Still carries some of that youth and innocence in her even though she’s only a year or two his junior. In the way she snorts when she laughs and hastily covers it up by holding the back of her hand over her mouth. The three times already tonight she’s prefaced that she doesn’t kiss on the first date and she’s got a strict rule about no ‘secondary locations.’ It’s charming. Like she’s spending any fleeting moment of free time discovering herself.

And is he glad she’s wasting her precious time on him. Even more glad he caught her on a weekend where her ex had the kids, though the idea of introducing himself to her house, her innocence, her little family, was fucking intoxicating. Made him forget the two fingers of whiskey sitting up right of his plate.

He gets so tipsy on the thought of besting her rules that he can’t help but push his luck after she- ever so delicately- refused the waiter trying to drop a dessert menu at the edge of the table.

“Cheap date.”

A snort from her. She has to pull her lips away from the rim of her wine glass to stifle it. House, even though it’ll give her a headache, she says. Couldn’t possibly bring herself to spend a dime of his money further than what was necessary. Darling thing. He’d love to see how far that ‘good girl’ act went. How much pressure it could handle.

She’d probably pull him in warm. Gooey in the middle when he finally got her spread open.

“Wasn’t out to test your fiscal limits”

She dabs the corner of her smile with a napkin. It’s his turn to laugh now.

“Shame. Half my appeal is the restaurant.”

She falters for a breath. Her eyes go a bit wide, like she’s suddenly worried she hasn’t thanked him enough. Hasn’t been good enough to please him. The thought makes him ball his hand into a fist to distract from the tightness in his slacks.

“Gosh, John, and it is such a nice place. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, really.”

Her fingers curl around his fist. She has to stretch a bit to reach him from across the table. Her fingertips don’t touch even when she tries to wrap her hand around his. Earnest is thick on her voice now. It honeys her tone. He wonders if when she pulls away she’ll leave a sugary stickiness on his skin.

He tsks, a smile flirting across his mouth. Unable to help himself. A hungry stray being tossed a hot meal.

“And how impressive would it have’t be if I had my heart set on bringing you ‘round t’mine for a nightcap?”

She wrinkles her nose at that, though there’s a glittering of humor in her eyes when she gives his hand a kittenish slap.

“You couldn’t afford it.”

Sharp as a tack.

He has to clench his jaw shut to keep from sinking his teeth into her. They ache to see if she’s candy-floss all the way through.

“No?”

“Dinner was fantastic, John. Thank you.”

She throws him a warning glance with that. There’s the faintest outline of severity blurring into the soft edges of her voice. He digs his nails into his palm.

“M’I that bad to talk to?”

He’s pulling out stops now. Ignoring the chirping alarm sounding in the back of his skull that tells him that he should be able to pick out if he’s insisting for the right reasons or not.

She’s more difficult to guilt a second time. Rolls her eyes and starts folding her napkin on the side of her plate.

“Must be.”

She is fucking delectable.

Trouble. Everything about her. Every new layer he peels back sets him ablaze. He’s smoldering in his chair, waiting for the smoke curling off the crown of his head to set off the smoke detectors.

It takes some effort, but he’s able to get her to settle on him coming ‘round to hers after dinner. ‘One drink, John. I’m serious.’ She digs her heels in a bit, but he’d already made his mind up. He’d have her. Tuck her in a paper bag and take his dessert to-go.

She makes him turn away when she punches the code into her garage opener. Says the remote in her car is dead, and while he looks around the edges of the house for security cameras, he makes a note to come back and get both of those things taken care of for her. Doesn’t like the thought of her alone in her driveway after work tired and vulnerable.

Never mind if she had to step out in the rain. Sugar melts.

He tries to convince her to sit on the couch with him while she nurses a weak pour of wine, she refuses. Sits on a plush armchair catty-corner to him in the living room and smiles while shakes her head.

“Not used to being told no?”

It’s less of a question than it is a plain statement. A surface-level observation. It should strike him as an insult, but watching the words fall from her pretty mouth made pride swell in his chest.

“Should I be?”

Trouble. He’s inching toward the line.

“You’d think.”

He wonders what she would think if he took her down to the studs. Not much of anything- if he was lucky.

[papasbaseball]

Raphael x Reader (Till Death Do Us Part)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Raphael x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sexual Coercion. You sign a contract without reading that indebts you to Raphael. Mentions and descriptions of torture (flaying(not done to the reader)).

Summary: You went looking for a lawyer to help with your divorce. Always read what you sign or you might end up in bed with the Devil.

Word Count: 2,379

Notes: This was inspired by the CONTRACT THAT WE ALL SIGNED WHEN WE INSTALLED BG3???? Definitely did not read the Terms and Conditions. Someone suggested that Raphael was Larian's lawyer and well... here we are.

AO3 Link

He wanted the house, the new Mercedes you bought last month, and alimony to boot. For a cheater, he certainly footed a high bill.

“And you didn’t get any evidence of his… infidelity?” The crooked frown of your newly acquired lawyer, Raphael Hope, betrayed the polite substitution. His eyes ate into his skull in a fashion that spoke of many a long night and too many encounters with jackasses. Perhaps in private company, he would not be so quick to bite his tongue.

The words came out tightly. ”I came home early from work and that’s when I saw him…screwing my cousin on the brand-new sofa.”

He walked to the minifridge in the corner of the room, fetching a bottle of Evian. He sat it to the side of your consultation folder. You thanked him quietly, letting your shoulders fall as the coolness of the water slipped and soothed your hoarse throat that you had earned from a night spent on your coworker’s couch.

”A pity, really,” he said. “To throw away a marriage to someone as exquisite as yourself? I would not blame you if you thought all men to be fools.”

His words and the bass he put into them forced your gaze to the consultation folder, intent on figuring out if the font of “Hope Law Firm” was serif or not. His eyes glowed a genuine amber that reminded you too much of sparks from 3 years ago.

”I didn’t come here to flirt, Mr. Hope,” you said, taking another sip of water.

”I am a man of facts. It is only the truth.” Putting a black marbled pen to the notepad of his padfolio, he continued, “No evidence will make it difficult to win in court. You are certain there are no texts, no photo-“

”There’s nothing,” you interrupted. The golden nib stopped scratching, fire lighting in his eyes.

”Please-“ He blinked and it vanished, his face set once more in cool professionalism. “We have ways of getting evidence, but most people find it to be out of their price range. Think very carefully, dear.”

The blood crept into your cheeks at the endearment. Your soon-to-be ex-husband had always called you “babe”. It felt commonplace and cheap, the kind of sweetener that a boy might use to get into his college girlfriend’s pants. Raphael's words smoldered on his tongue and felt anything but commonplace. The crisp suit, the soft but styled chestnut hair, the smoky cologne that promised wealth and wins in the courtroom. If Satan had built the perfect lawyer, it was him.

You shook your head.

He sighed, sliding a thick cream-colored paper out from the back of his padfolio and over to you. The page's weight was increased by the bold black letters across the top: AGREEMENT. You flipped the paper, surprised that the back was blank.

”Read it if you would like, but this permits us to do our own snooping. We have a 100% success rate, but our methods are… unorthodox.”

He had no website boasting wins or guarantees when you’d gone looking for a lawyer, but the newspapers had done that enough for him. Win after win gilded his name on every article in the news tab, tales of mob bosses and politicians clearly guilty getting off. You knew this was coming.

Biting your lip, you took the pen that Raphael offered you and scrawled your signature as quickly as you could across the bottom. Better to be fast than to change your mind. A sigh of disappointment from him froze your hand.

”You should really read things before you sign them, dear.”

With a wave, the doors slammed shut, window shades dropped, and sconces gleamed an angry red. The table and chairs vanished in a cloud of ash and smoke that swept up the walls, devouring the dark blue and mahogany into volcanic stone veined with bloodied quartz. Scrambling towards the exit, you watched as the door and handle were soon too devoured by that awful smoke.

”Let me out,” you begged, turning to face him. “You can’t keep me here.”

”Can’t I?” he chuckled. “I must… per our contract agreement of course.” The cream-colored paper floated up into his palm, having survived the incineration of the room. “From this day forth, I do agree to be willingly at the service of Raphael of the House of Hope until he sees fit to relinquish me from his company.” He laughed at this, directing his darkened gaze toward you. “It is not often my servants are so rare in beauty.”

“My roommate-“

”Will not miss you,” he finished. “Nobody at that dead-end job loved you. No husband at home to cry for your absence. No children to weep for their mother’s milk.” His pupils burned hot like dying stars against an obsidian sclera, raking over your body. “At least not yet.”

He stalked you into the corner like a lion, a smile forming when you whimpered as he got too close. Another sweep of the hand and the contract engulfed in flames to reveal a great dagger, golden from hilt to tip—the point nestled under the tip of your chin.

”What should I do with you, little mouse?” He crooned, cocking his head to one side. “So careless. I can’t have that in my service.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed, trying to ignore the tear that slipped down your cheek. The dagger tip pressed into the delicate skin, raising you until you were standing once more. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

”Of course you will,” he said. “You have no choice.” He drew closer until you could taste the tart cherry undernote of his cologne. “I would like a taste, dear.”

Your fingers trembled reaching for the soft charcoal lapel of his suitcoat that rose and fell with each breath. It stilled for a moment as you looked up into his face. A sharp brow quirked, highlighting those wicked eyes. A weak tug of his lapel earned you a smile and he bent just enough for you to touch your lips to his. His hand slithered up your back as if he had done this a thousand times before, a modest touch enough to set your nerves alight. Your tongue flicked across his smirk, and he parted those unforgiving lips.

Whether he was a devil, a trickster, or some other creature made no difference. His cool indifference sparked something within you, however small. His hand splayed across your back, pushing you into him to be devoured. The sharp line of his nose pressed into your cheek, a small groan as if he were devouring a cake that was soaked in the sweet fruit syrup of the summer sun. You pressed your tongue into his, desperate to taste the honeyed words he’d used to get you to let your guard down so easily. Your legs were soon wrapping themselves around his waist.

“Greed looks good on you, little mouse,” he said, dipping his head to trail kisses down your jaw.

“You’re a monster,” you protested, voice breathless and hungry for more of his lips and tongue.

He nipped into the crook of your neck. “I can stop if you would like. Denying you your pleasures has its own charm.”

You gasped, grabbing a handful of his soft hair as he licked and sucked. Your mind toyed with the idea of trying to escape, but every time you got close to the plan of finding an exit the thought slipped away into the lust of him pressing you up against the jagged wall, knife still to your chin.

“Mr. Hope-”

“Your Excellency,” he cut you off.

The stabbing points of the rock behind you retracted and you watched the darkened cave transform into a room decked in gaudy red and gold with ceilings high enough to house God. He carried you to the bed made softer than sin, kneeing open your legs.

Light glimmered over him to reveal a monstrous form, complete with horns that looked like twisted stone and demonic crimson wings that served as a terrifying backdrop to your captor. Black claws shredded the woolen skirt, pantyhose, and pink satin panties that you picked out that morning, leaving scratches on your stomach in their careless destruction. A growl at the sight of the warmth that you offered him was all the warning given before he finished butchering the turtleneck and lacy bra.

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, crushing you until the only words from your mouth are “Yes, Your Excellency”. Given how wet you are, it should not be long.”

You crawl back further onto the bed, away from him. “I’m not.”

“Please. Even a human could smell the way your cunt is aching for me to stretch it and fill it.” He crawled onto the bed after you, pulling your legs apart once more, bringing his face close to your needy sex. “Would you like to see how a real man does it?”

Your ex always had an excuse for refusing to go down on you. One night he’d claim that his jaw locked up easily, the next he’d say he preferred only freshly shaven. They were endless to the point that you had stopped asking. Raphael nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, begging you to answer.

“Are you going to bite me?” you stuttered.

He smiled. “Would you like me to?”

You grabbed one of the rough horns, guiding him towards your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds until it found your clit. The dying stars looked from under his brow in eager sadism as he suckled the bundle of nerves between his lips. Your back parted from his bed and you shut your eyes as bliss clenched through you.

“Watch me or suffer,” he growled before returning to his ministrations.

Your eyes snapped open as you watched him toy and tease, nibbling and flicking in a new and exciting way with each gasp and whine. He would push you as close to the edge as he could before backing off in cruel delight, mocking your weakness as you pulled futilely on his horns.

“Is there something you want, little mouse?” he said.

“P-please.”

The tip of his claw circled your abused clit. “Please, what?”

The pride stabbed in your throat, trying to claw its way out. “Please, let me cum… Your Excellency.” The words tasted like battery acid, but they satisfied that shit-eating grin of his.

His mouth glistened with your juices as he kissed you deeply once more. “I will think about it.”

The shimmering light swept over him once more to reveal his naked form. Despite him being a monster, you whimpered when you caught sight of his cock. It was built for a creature much bigger than you, a deep red of coagulated blood and wrapped in ridges.

“It’s not going to fit,” you pleaded, digging your nails into his biceps as he pulled away. They slipped out of your grasp and he shouldered one of your legs and then the other.

“Relax. You are too tense.” He lined the tip up and slowly pushed the head in, flaring his wings in response. “Gods you are tight. When was the last time you were properly used?”

It was difficult to hold onto the last remaining bits of sanity as he slid in further. You clench in protest, feeling the burning pain as he stretched you fuller still. “I-” You groan as he slips further in.  “N-never..”

His lips brushed gently against the fresh bruises on your neck, picking them over to find a spot unmarked by his hunger. He stopped pushing, letting you adjust to him. “A pity. I can’t wait to flay that bastard after I finish him in the courtroom.”

His hips pressed forward once more until he had buried himself to the hilt. “Would you like that, my little mouse? I can let you watch as I skin slice after bloody slice off of him. Torture him just enough and then make him watch as I claim your cunt and fill you deep with my seed.” He rocked into you, simulating his wicked plan. “I want to hear him scream as I finish what he couldn’t.”

You groaned as he pushed into you again, stretching you even more. He pulled out and buried himself into you again and again. His claws bit into the flesh of your hips. The thought of him torturing your ex as he fucked you mercilessly put a lurch in your stomach, but it was quickly washed away thinking about the power of Raphael at your side in the courtroom. Giving him the just desserts that the legal system refused to give would be the cherry on top of taking everything from him. The rush mixed and intertwined with the lust bringing you closer and closer toward the edge.

“I-I’m…” you said.

He snorted. “So easy.” The amusement in his voice went straight to your core. He quickened his pace once more. “Cum for me, my little mouse.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder and it sent you tumbling, wave after wave gripping him in desperation. The movement of his hips stuttered after a few more thrusts and you felt the burning heat of him as he growled into your flesh, filling you with the filth of a devil.

He removed his teeth from your shoulder and slid out of you, leaving you aching and wounded. Reaching into the top drawer of the nightstand, he pulled out a gilded cigarette, lighting it with a flash of magic. He took a long drag before reclining back on his side of the bed.

You crept close, wincing as you propped yourself up on your injured arm. His eyes were focused on the far-off paintings on the ceiling. “Did you mean it?” you said. “About torturing him and making him watch?”

The devil exhaled the sweet cherry-scented smoke out of his nostrils. “After I beat him bloody in the courthouse, yes.” He took another drag. “Why?”

You plucked the cigarette out of his clawed hand, taking a drag yourself. “I want you to kill him when you’re finished.”

Raphael smiled, snatching the cigarette back. “Till death do us part.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi))!! I was rewatching big bang theory and according to one of the episodes those Vegas weddings are apparently legitimate? So I had an idea…

Maybe in 83-84 Lars and reader got married there as a joke, they were young and in love, etc. but then fame happened, followed by booze and groupies so she couldn’t tolerate that and broke up with him.

In 93, after they made a ton of money, Lars plans to marry his model/actress/typical rockstar GF, and his lawyer, while making a prenup, runs some checks and finds out that Lars is still married to the reader, so the divorce with her must happen first and, since there was no prenup, she is entitled to half of his money. So he reconnects with her, to calm her suspicions and make her sign divorce papers with no financial demands from him. But he kinda falls in love with her again… unfortunately she does find out that he got back to her to have a chance of marrying another woman… so Lars has to prove his pure intentions…

I kinda view it as happy end, maybe in the end they renew the vows with a proper lavish Lars-style ceremony)))

I hope you like it because I think it's weak

A rewritten love

The year was 1983, and Las Vegas shimmered in the desert night like a dream made for the young and reckless. Lars and Y/N were both. He was on the cusp of fame with his band, and she had been there with him through every wild, unpredictable moment. The neon lights above the strip were a blur as they ran down the street, laughing, hearts full of love and chaos.

They hadn’t planned to get married—hell, they hadn’t even talked about it before. But somewhere between the laughter and the whirlwind of being hopelessly in love, they found themselves in front of a cheap wedding chapel. Lars, tipsy on both alcohol and adrenaline, had grinned at her like he had the best idea in the world.

“Let’s do it, babe,” he’d said, his eyes sparkling. “Let’s get married, right now.”

Y/N had laughed, thinking it was just another spontaneous moment in their crazy, love-filled lives. But something about the way he looked at her—so wild, so free—had made her heart flutter. They were young and reckless, but they were in love. And that love felt unstoppable.

So, in front of a priest, they exchanged vows. With the cheapest rings they could find and laughter in every word, they said ‘I do.’ It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t planned. But it was them—reckless, passionate, and full of fire.

Afterward, they stumbled out of the chapel, hands clasped, their hearts racing like they had just stolen the world. It felt like forever, like they’d always be together. But they hadn’t realized then how fragile forever could be.

Fame hit Lars fast and hard. By the mid-80s, his band had blown up in ways they had only dreamed of. With success came the tours, the parties, the money… and the women. Too many women. Y/N tried to ignore it at first, telling herself the stories didn’t matter, that the rumors were just part of being in the rockstar world. But eventually, the whispers became impossible to dismiss. Every late night, every hotel room on tour that reeked of booze and perfume—it all chipped away at their love.

In 1986, when the weight of the groupies, the alcohol, and the distance between them became unbearable, she walked away. She had loved him—God, how she had loved him—but she couldn’t stay in a marriage where his fidelity came second to the rockstar lifestyle. So, she left him and their whirlwind of a marriage behind.

Now it was 1993.

Lars Ulrich sat in his lawyer’s office, papers strewn across the desk as they discussed his upcoming wedding. His fiancée, a model-actress who fit the perfect image of a rockstar’s bride, was eagerly awaiting the big day. But Lars, sitting across from his lawyer, felt a strange tension gnawing at him. It had been years since he had faced his past, and today, he would be forced to do just that.

As his lawyer went over the details of the prenup, something shifted in the room.

“There’s something we need to address before you move forward,” the lawyer said, his voice cautious.

Lars raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

His lawyer flipped through a folder before setting a piece of paper down in front of Lars. “Your marriage to Y/N back in 1983… it’s still legally binding.”

Lars stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“You never filed for divorce. Legally, you’re still married to her.”

The room felt like it had dropped a few degrees as Lars processed the information. His mind immediately flashed back to that wild night in Vegas—the laughter, the vows, the stupid rings—and then all the years that followed. All the time he had spent pretending it was just a distant memory.

“And,” the lawyer continued, his tone turning serious, “because there was no prenup back then, she’s entitled to half of your assets unless she signs a divorce agreement without financial demands.”

Lars ran his hand through his hair, his heart racing. Half of his money. Half of everything he had worked for, earned, lived for—was technically hers. His fiancée, the glamorous new chapter of his life, wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew this complication was standing in the way of their wedding.

“So, what do I do?” Lars asked, feeling the weight of the situation settle over him.

“You’ll need her to sign divorce papers. And ideally, you want her to agree to no financial demands. If she refuses... Well, things could get complicated. It’s best to go to her in person, smooth things over.”

Lars left the lawyer’s office with a whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He had been prepared for everything to move forward smoothly with his new life—his wedding, his future. But now, he was forced to face his past. He needed Y/N’s signature, and more importantly, he needed to make sure she didn’t walk away with half of everything.

A week later, Lars found himself standing outside Y/N’s house, his heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit. It had been years since they had spoken. Years since she had walked away from their chaotic, messy life together. She was supposed to be nothing more than a memory—something that belonged to a past version of himself. Yet here he was, needing her signature, needing something from the woman he once loved.

He knocked on the door, and when Y/N opened it, he felt time collapse in on itself. She looked different—older, more mature—but she still had that fire in her eyes, the one that had always drawn him to her.

“Lars?” Her voice was soft, but there was a guardedness in her tone. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

She hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. The house was quiet, peaceful in a way that felt miles apart from the world he’d been living in. It struck him how different their lives had become.

Lars sat down, unsure where to start. “This is... probably the last thing you expected, I know.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway. “No kidding. It’s been years, Lars. Why now?”

He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn’t avoid the truth. “I’m getting married again, and... well, turns out we’re still legally married. I didn’t realize it, but we never filed for divorce.”

Y/N’s expression shifted from surprise to something more complicated. “So you need me to sign the papers.”

Lars nodded. “Yeah, and, uh... I need you to sign with no financial demands.”

Her eyes flashed with something—hurt, maybe anger. “Ah, there it is. I was wondering why you’d come here out of the blue. It’s not just about the divorce—it’s about your money.”

He winced. “It’s not like that, Y/N. I mean, yeah, it’s part of it. But I didn’t come here just for that.”

“Then why did you come here, Lars?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with pain. “We haven’t spoken in years, and now, all of a sudden, you show up because you want to marry someone else.”

Lars shifted in his seat, guilt gnawing at him. “Look, I know it sounds bad. And yeah, I messed up. But... seeing you again, it brought back a lot of memories. I started thinking about everything we had together—every moment we shared, every laugh, every fight, and every quiet night together. It hit me hard, and I realized I never stopped loving you.”

As he spoke, images flashed through his mind: their wild nights under the Vegas lights, lazy mornings tangled in sheets, and quiet moments where they felt like the only two people in the world. Those memories felt like echoes, haunting him, reminding him of the love he had taken for granted.

Y/N stared at him, her face unreadable. “You’re marrying someone else, Lars. And now you want to convince me that you still care?”

His chest tightened. “I do care. And I know I hurt you, I know I screwed things up, but... being here, talking to you, it reminded me of what we had. What I messed up. I didn’t just come here for the papers. I came here because I never really stopped loving you.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “Don’t lie to me, Lars. You’re here because you want a clean slate with your new fiancée. You want me to sign away everything we ever had so you can move on without any complications.”

Lars stood up, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “No, I’m here because I realized I can’t move on without facing what we had. And what we still have, if you’ll let me. I don’t want to marry her—I want you. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Y/N stared at him, the weight of their history hanging between them. After a long pause, she whispered, “Okay. But this time, no more lies. If you want me back, you have to prove it.”

“I will,” Lars replied, determination flooding his voice. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, how much we mean to each other. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

With every word, he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. But Y/N’s expression hardened again, and she crossed her arms defensively.

“What about your fiancée, Lars?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with a tremor. “You’re engaged. What’s she going to think when she finds out you’re here, trying to convince your ex-wife to come back?”

Lars ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of her question like a heavy anchor. “I know it sounds messed up,” he said, taking a step back, trying to give her space. “But what I feel for you... it’s different. It always has been. The thing is, I don’t want to hurt her. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“Didn’t intend?” Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You’re here because you want me back, and you want a divorce from a woman who thought she was going to marry you. What do you think this makes you look like?”

Lars felt the sharpness of her words pierce through him. “I get it, and I don’t expect you to understand right away. But with her, it feels like... I don’t know, like I’m trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for me. She’s beautiful, talented, and everyone expects us to be perfect together, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, the hurt flashing through her gaze. “So, what? You want to jump back into our lives like nothing happened? Like the last ten years didn’t exist?”

“No!” Lars said, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I want to face it, to make things right. I’m not the same guy I was back then. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I’m ready to fight for what we had.”

“But what does that even mean?” she challenged, her voice rising. “You expect me to just let you walk back into my life after everything? After you left me for fame and fortune? And now you want me to help you escape your new life?”

Lars stepped closer, his heart racing. “I’m not asking you to rescue me. I’m asking you to understand that I’ve realized I want you, not just the idea of you. My relationship with her was built on expectations, not love. With you, it was real.”

Y/N looked away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And what about her feelings? What about the life you built together?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I never meant to hurt her. I genuinely care about her, but I realize now that I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I want to be with you, and if that means I have to end things with her, then I will. I have to be honest with myself—and with you.”

“Are you really ready to do that?” Y/N challenged, her gaze piercing through him. “Can you really just walk away from someone you promised to love?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady. “I need to be true to myself and to you. I don’t want to be tied to someone out of obligation or fear. I want to love freely, to be with the person who makes me feel alive.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, the air charged with unspoken feelings. Lars could see the conflict in her eyes, the memories of their shared past battling with the pain of their separation.

Y/N finally sighed, the fight seeming to ebb from her. “I don’t know, Lars. It’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not. But let’s take it one step at a time. Can we talk? Can we see if there’s a way back to each other?” He reached for her hand, his heart pounding in anticipation. “I want to explore this, Y/N. If you’re willing to give me a chance.”

She hesitated, looking down at their hands before slowly pulling away. “I need time to think. You can’t just walk back into my life and expect everything to be okay.”

“I get that,” Lars said, his voice softer now. “But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you how serious I am about this. Just know that I’ve never stopped loving you, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

Y/N took a step back, her expression torn. “This is a lot to process, Lars. You’ve changed, but I need to know if you really mean what you say.”

He nodded, feeling a mix of hope and fear. “I do. I promise.”

As she turned to walk away, Lars felt a sense of longing fill the space between them. He knew this was just the beginning, and the journey to reclaiming their love wouldn’t be easy. But standing there, with the shadows of their past behind them, he felt a spark of hope flicker back to life.

Over the following months, Lars and Y/N reconnected, slowly navigating the minefield of their past. They shared stories over coffee, went for long drives, and laughed at old memories, each encounter peeling back the layers of their hearts.

As time passed, Lars found himself reevaluating everything he thought he wanted. The allure of fame faded, and he began to realize that his heart belonged to Y/N. He didn’t want to marry anyone else; he wanted to fight for their love.

One evening, as they sat on the couch reminiscing, Y/N finally voiced her concerns. “Lars, I want to believe you, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just a backup plan for you.”

He sighed, his gaze searching hers. “I understand why you’d think that. But I swear, I’ve come back because I realize what I lost. I want to make things right between us.”

His words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Y/N felt a flicker of hope amidst her doubts. As if sensing her vulnerability, Lars leaned in closer, his heart pounding with unspoken feelings. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands, and as their eyes locked, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, a tender exploration of the feelings they had both suppressed for so long. But as Y/N melted into the moment, it deepened, filled with the passion and longing that had never truly faded. When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

 “I want you back. I want us.” He whispered.

Finally, the day arrived. After months of rediscovering their love, Lars proposed, this time with a proper ring and a heartfelt plea for a future together. Y/N accepted, her heart racing with joy and apprehension.

They planned a beautiful ceremony, this time in a stunning chapel adorned with flowers and twinkling lights, surrounded by friends and family who celebrated their love.

As Y/N walked down the aisle, she couldn’t help but feel nervous but also incredibly excited. Lars stood at the altar, his expression filled with love and anticipation. The priest welcomed everyone warmly, creating an atmosphere of unity and joy.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Lars and Y/N in holy matrimony, a celebration of love and commitment,” he began, his voice steady and comforting.

Lars and Y/N exchanged vows once more, this time with a depth and sincerity that resonated through every word. “I promise to love you more each day, to be your partner in everything, through every high

[thesakuragarnet]

My Dabi Headcanons

Finished my finals today and got bored so... I am throwing out my favorite Dabi headcanons

SOME 18+ ONLY THEMES!!!!

HUUUUGE believer in consent (partially because of what his mother endured)

Bisexual and a switch (I will d!e on this hill)

Loves stars

Is the big brother of the League and views Toga as a little sister (viewed Twice as a brother)

Was extremely hurt by Hawks' betrayal on an emotional/personal level which is why the fight was so over-the-top (lover's quarrel/divorce if you will)

Acts like he doesn't care but secretly cares so much (masks his emotions even though they are too big for his body)

ADHD

Lets Toga paint his nails black

Knew Hawks from when he was freshly homeless after the flashback from Ch350

S3ggsual activity and drinking as a coping mechanism (can drink Everclear like water; his Quirk processes the alcohol quickly so he gets drunk really fast but also sobers up really fast)

loves soft things (sensory coping with blankets/fluff/etc)

Extremely smart but hides it

Has fucked up vision from his accident (probably needs glasses but doesn't have them)

Smells like a hospital in the sense that he has to keep his burns/wounds clean or he'll go septic, so he probably smells like isopropyl alcohol, maybe with some cheap cologne covering it up

Touch-starved to the point where he becomes obsessive with PDA (probably a virgin before hooking up with Hawks)

Emo/punk/alt music

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Was actually the one sending the blue flowers to his mother in the mental hospital

Struggles with perfectionism that he developed during his childhood

Monster Energy can wall in his room

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part VII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You talk to your mysterious friend and finally part from Atsumu.

Part I II -> Next part

"It's me. I'm okay- please don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"Where have you been? I was worried sick; I've tried calling you all night! You just texted me that everything's alright at 4am, but what's going on? Where are you?"

The voice comes out of the phone, quickly and fast as always, and you hold the phone a bit further away from your ear. "Please, I'm okay, I promise!" You can hear a few deep breaths on the other side, probably the attempt to calm down, and then the voice speaks again.

"Where are you right now? I'll come and pick you up, and then you can tell me everything."

"I'm at the—" you hesitate and then look at the name on the towel and read it out loud. "Do you know where that is?"

"Give me a second." You hear typing noises on the other side and then a little gasp. "That's an expensive hotel! One night costs 500 bucks, and the suits are literally thousands of dollars per night!"

"What?!" you're speechless for a few moments, realizing just how much money Atsumu might own—you are in a suite after all and you definitely did not pay for it.

"It will take some time to get there. I'll be there in an hour? I'll send you my location. Is there someone else with you?" Your thoughts drift to Atsumu, and you hum. "Yes. And I need to ask for a favor. Do you have a lawyer? Or do you know someone who maybe knows someone who can help me with a divorce for cheap?"

"A divorce? Who needs a—wait. Are you talking about yourself? Did you get married?" The voice is so shrill and loud that you almost flinch, and you find yourself regretting revealing that fact already. "I'll tell you the details later. Please don't worry about me." You try to sound as calm and soothing as you can, and after a few shocked gasps, you hear silence again on the other hand. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'll come and get you, and then you'll have to tell me everything."

You agree, and after a few more times of you repeating that you'll be fine and that you're being taken care of, you hang up. You take a deep breath, and without thinking too much about it, you quickly undress and go into the shower.

It's like heaven. The warm water feels soothing on your skin, and there are more products in the shower than you have ever used so far, but you find yourself drawn to the pretty bottles and decide to spoil yourself. It's not your water bill after all, and if Atsumu is paying for it, you can go all out and spend a few more minutes in the shower. The towels are fluffy and warm, thanks to the towel warmer, and you find yourself pressing your face against the soft fabric and inhaling the fresh and clean smell. The mirror is foggy by now, you probably showered at too hot a temperature, but the warm water just felt so good on your skin.

A soft knock on the door brings your attention back to reality, and you find yourself stepping closer to the pompous wooden door. "Y/n? I put the clothes in front of the door. Samu and I will wait on the balcony; you can get them anytime."

"Thanks!" you respond and hear footsteps leaving the room and a loud sound that's probably the window closing behind them. You wait a few more moments just to be sure that they are gone, and then you open the door a little bit to take the small pile of clothes.

It's a shirt with the hotel name, surprisingly tasteful due to the minimalistic logo of the expensive establishment, as well as a matching pair of sweatpants as well as a pair of socks. The fabric is soft, and you quickly put on the new clothes, only regretting that you have to wear your old panties, but there is not much you can do about it.

You take one last look at your phone, quickly checking your appearance one last time, wishing you'd have the time to wash your hair too, but you'll do that when you're back in your hotel room. You're just glad that you feel clean and warm now.

You step out of the room, feeling a little better and more alive already, and look around. You find Atsumu and Osamu standing on the balcony, both of them busy in a heated discussion, and you watch them for a few moments from your position after you noticed that they are not looking in your direction yet.

They are undeniably related. You can find similarities in the way they speak, in the way they use they hands when they talk and in the way they stand. They are both very attractive—something that you can freely admire now that they haven't seen you yet.

A notification on your phone informs you that your friend will reach you in a few minutes, and when you look up, you see that the twins have stopped talking and instead watch you through the window in silence. You pause momentarily and then lift your hand to wave at them. Atsumu's eyes take in your new clothes, checking you out from head to toe, and he gives you an approving thumbs up and a grin. Osamu rolls his eyes at Atsumu and simply pushes the door open.

"Hey. I'm glad the clothes fit." He comments, and you look down at yourself at his words. "Yeah, me too. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot; I feel so much better already."

Atsumu also steps into the room again, making sure to bump his shoulder against Osamu's when he passes him, ignoring the curse of the dark-haired male.

"Ya look better already. Feelin' alright again?" His voice is still tinted with the slightest bit of concern, and you smile at his words.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for being so weird before. I was just a bit overwhelmed." Atsumu shakes his head and buries his hands in his pockets. "Don't sweat it. That's normal. Gettin' married like this is a pretty unusual thing after all."

"Right. Uhm. My friend will pick me up soon; I'll get downstairs and wait there. I'll give you my number, and then you can call me as soon as you find out more?" You look at him questioningly, and he is quick to fish for his phone in his back pocket. "Sounds good. I'll wait with ya till yer friend arrives." He watches while you type in your number and quickly save it. "Oh, you don't have to. I'll find the way on my own, don't worry." You shake your head, but he quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the door. "Nah, I insist. Where are your shoes?" You let him guide you, his arm around your shoulders feeling somewhat heavy but comforting while you look around for your high heels from last night. Atsumu guides you to the chair next to the door and ushers you to sit on it while he grabs the black shoes from the ground. "Do ya think they'll fit with the socks?" He asks with a frown, and you just shrug your shoulders as a response. "I hope so. I don't want to leave without socks; I don't even want to wear the shoes, to be honest."

His brows furrow while he looks at your feet. "Sorry, I wish we had some other shoes for ya." You quickly shake your head. "It's fine. It's just for the way downstairs. It's okay." He nods and kneels in front of you, and you subconsciously slide back on the chair as far as you can to create some distance between the two of you. "What are you doing?" He takes your left foot and places it on his thigh, and you feel every single muscle in your body tensing at the sudden contact. "Helpin' with yer shoes. Stay still for me."

You're at a loss for words while he slips the shoe on your foot; all you can do is stare at him while he secures it around your ankle. Surprisingly, it fits around your socked foot, and he nods before he lets go of your foot and reaches for the other. It doesn't take him long to get it on your foot too, and you shortly admire how skilled he is with his fingers, and then he places them both on the ground. "There ya go." He hums satisfied and gets on his feet, quickly offering you his hand to stand up. At this point, you just accept it and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the door.

"Uhm. Bye, Osamu. See you. Maybe." You turn around and wave at the dark-haired twin who had made no attempt to come with you, and he nods acknowledgingly. "See ya."

You follow Atsumu through the door, who seems to be familiar with the hotel because he is quick to lead you to an outrageously big elevator. It's silent on the ride downstairs. You're standing each on different sides of the elevator, leaning against the walls, your bodies no longer touching. You don't really know what to say to him; you're too deep in thought right now, and he seems to feel somewhat similar.

"The exit is right there." He motions to the other end of the hall as soon as you get out of the elevator, and you hum while you follow him to the doors. You're lucky that there are barely people around because you certainly feel a bit underdressed with the clothes from the shop, but Atsumu doesn't even spare a glance to anyone you're passing. The receptionist greets you without batting an eye at your unusual attire; you're fairly certain that you both give a very unusual sight. Atsumu with his formal dress pants and half-opened dress shirt, and you with the hotel shirt and sweatpants and heels from last night. Surely not an everyday sight, but professionalism prevents her from looking longer at you.

It does not take long until you both stand in front of the hotel, just far enough from the entrance not to bother other guests but still close enough to see everyone who enters the building. You both stand there for a few moments in mutual silence, until you look up at him with a faint smile. "Thank you for showing me the way. I'll manage from here on. You can get back to Osamu; it's alright."

He frowns at your words and looks around.

"Can I really leave you here?" He looks a bit worried, and you nod with a tight smile. You really need some time to think about everything. "My friend will pick me up soon. You can go back to Osamu; it's fine, really!"

He hesitates for a second, probably not fully convinced that everything's fine, and the next thing you know is that his big arms surround you and pull you into a hug. You're stiff at first, unsure how you should react, but the comfort and familiarity that he is radiating by now makes it all too easy to melt into his touch and to hug him back. "Y/n. I meant it. I'll take care of ya, okay? Everything's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of that."

"Hmm." You hum against his shoulder, deeply inhaling his comfortable smell, and his grip tightens around you. "And if ya need anything—anything at all—call me. Anytime." You nod, hoping that he can feel your response and your gratitude because you don't trust your voice right now. You know you should probably pull back, but it feels too good to be in his arms, too good to be close to him, so you just stay, and he seems willing to let you.

"Y/n!" You hear someone yelling your name behind you, and you quickly pull yourself out of Atsumu's arms. You turn around and face a familiar face with big brown eyes which flicker from you to Atsumu with a surprised expression.

"Wait—Atsumu Miya? What are you doing here?"

Your jaw drops, and you turn your head back to Atsumu, who looks equally surprised to see your friend.

"You know each other?!"

[loominggaia]

EVANGELITE FASHIONS

---> See the full-size artwork on Deviantart <---

(lore under cut)

OVERVIEW

Evangeline Kingdom encompasses fertile grasslands, temperate forests, and icy mountains. Its culture is largely homogenous due to the embrace of Lindism, the largest religion in the region. Both climate and religion have a strong influence on the way people dress in this kingdom, promoting modesty and practicality.

FIELD SLAVE

Location: Silverspring

Slaves are the backbone of Evangeline Kingdom’s economy. The entire kingdom would crumble if not for their hard, unpaid labor. The Field Slave works exclusively outdoors, tending to his master’s crops and animals. When the sun goes down, he is locked in a barn until morning to prevent his escape. He is not even allowed to set foot in his master’s house, for he is considered too filthy from all his time outdoors.

This particular Field Slave is a goblin, a species with naturally bald heads. He wears a cloth rag wrapped around his head to protect it from the sun and keep it warm in the cold. What little clothes he owns are tattered and grungy. His master agreed to buy him just one pair of shoes per year, and since they have already worn out, the Field Slave wraps leather strips around his feet until he is given new ones. He works shirtless as often as possible so that he does not wear out his shirts and coats too fast. Like all Evangelite slaves, he wears iron cuffs around his wrists, which block him from using magic. Slave masters sometimes put iron collars on their slaves as well, as an extra security measure in case they must be restrained. The fact that this Field Slave has a collar is a sign that he likely tried to run away or attack his master at some point.

Evangelite Field Slaves are cheap and expendable in the eyes of their masters. Not much money or care is given to their well-beings, and this is very apparent from the crude scraps of clothing they wear.

HOUSE SLAVE

Location: Queenswater

Unlike the Field Slave, the House Slave works almost exclusively indoors. They are almost always female fae, who are considered less threatening and more docile than males or gaians of any sex. Male House Slaves are usually young children or elderly. House Slaves interact with their master’s family on a much more personal level than Field Slaves, so they are usually given nicer clothing to keep them looking clean and presentable. This clothing is typically dull in color and drab in style, and its quality is rarely as nice as what their masters wear.

This House Slave is wearing her hair in a braid with a cloth rag wrapped around her head, ensuring that her hair does not fall into the food she prepares for her masters. Her striped brown dress is pleasant to look at, but drab enough that she does not stand out. Her dull green overdress keeps her warm and has pockets for utility. She wears an apron over that, which keeps her clothes from getting dirty too fast and gives her something to wipe her hands on. The style of her outfit does not show much skin, with the idea that the men of the house will not be tempted with lustful feelings towards her. Even her ankles are covered by leggings. She is not permitted to wear makeup or jewelry of any kind. The only "bracelets" she wears are her iron wristcuffs, which block any spells she may try to use.

Though her living conditions are better than the Field Slaves, the indoor candlelight means she can (and does) work longer hours than they do. Her responsibilities are many, including cleaning, cooking, looking after her master’s children and pets, and even helping her masters with personal matters like dressing and grooming. She must do all of this while looking and behaving presentably at all times.

WIDOWED PEASANT

Location: Eastwalk

Her husband died, leaving her widowed with their young children. Widowed and divorced women face much difficulty in Evangeline Kingdom, for they are considered undesirable to all but the most desperate men. Worse yet, women are viewed only as homemakers and mothers in this culture, so most employers will not hire them. When they do manage to get hired, they receive less than half of a man’s wages for the same amount of work. This Widowed Peasant is a troll, who are considered the lowliest of commoners in Evangelite society, fit only for soldiering and sanitation work. With so much working against her, she could only find employment as a street-cleaner, and her clothes are a testament to her poverty.

She wears a faded red dress and a shawl that was nicer in its heyday, but is now dull and stretched-out. Her pants are tattered, but she cannot afford to replace them. She also cannot afford shoes, which are expensive anyway, but troll shoes even more so because of their much larger size. Until she saves up the money for new ones, she walks barefoot upon the littered streets she spends all day sweeping. Her hair is unwashed and in need of a trim. She wears it loose to signal that she’s seeking a man–any man–to marry.

FARMER

Location: Greenhearst

Food is Evangeline Kingdom’s most profitable export, so many of its citizens own–or work for–farms. Farmers with large plots of land can make a lot of money, but those with smaller plots and worse soil quality must make do with meager profits. They work very hard for very little money, but they don’t typically need much money anyway, as their livelihood allows them to be mostly self-sufficient. They do not live luxurious lives, but between their crops and animals, they usually have enough resources to get by.

This roshavan farmer makes use of his four arms to get work done faster than most. But these extra limbs also mean his shirts are more expensive, so he does not rush out to buy a new one every time it gets a tear. Instead, his wife mends it for him and he squeezes yet another year out of it. The same principle applies to his pants, which are old, worn, and covered in patches. His boots and satchel are both made from cowhide, which he procured from his own farm. He trades this raw leather to the town’s cobblers and leatherworkers for discounts on shoes and bags. He did not spend a coin on his hat, for it was woven from straw by his crafty wife. It helps keep him shaded while he works his fields. She also cuts his hair for him, keeping it short for practicality, and he has grown a mustache to signal to other women that he is already happily married.

Wealthier citizens look down upon his patches, muddy boots, and home-crafted garb. The Farmer may not win any fashion shows, but then again, that is why he is in the field and not on the catwalk.

KELVINGYARD SLAVER

Location: Kelvingyard Town

The Kelvingyard Company is a slaving service that operates in Evangeline Kingdom, and is officially endorsed by the Evangelite government. Kelvingyard slavers are not considered soldiers, but it's not uncommon for the military to hire them temporarily as militias or backup forces. Because of this, the slavers can often be seen wearing modified uniforms with blue sashes or capes, signaling their affiliation with the kingdom.

Otherwise, their uniforms are mostly black and made of cheap leather. They wear iron chestplates and gauntlets to protect them from magic spells, but they avoid full suits of iron for 2 reasons: cost and agility. The Kelvingyard Company is rather stingy and will scrimp wherever they can, using the lowest quality materials to “protect” their workers. It is not necessarily a slaver's job to kill, but to capture, so they must be light on their feet to chase and wrestle their captives.

This Kelvingyard Slaver is wearing a standard-issue uniform modified with a blue cape, signaling that he's currently assigned to help the military. Kelvingyard helmets have a distinct ridge of spikes to intimidate foes, identify slavers from a distance, and it allows them to use their heads as a weapon in a pinch, since they are often grappling with captives.

Trolls are considered the lowliest commoners in Evangelite society, so it is hard for them to find employment. But Kelvingyard has notoriously low standards and will take anyone they can get, so long as they are male and willing to leave their sense of morality at home. This troll’s mustache is a sign that he's married.

EVANGELINE SOLDIER

Location: Rivermere

Evangeline Soldiers are the defenders of their kingdom. Their uniforms may differ slightly based on the climate they're located in, but all make generous use of iron plates and chainmail. Pure iron is preferred over alloys like steel, as iron has magic-repellent properties that protect from spells. Blue sashes and motifs make their allegiance known from a distance.

Iron is heavy, so these soldiers are not known for their speed. They are typically mounted on horses, except for dworfen troops, which ride ponies or mules instead. This dworfen soldier displays a generic armor set, fitted for his small size. Though dworfs are small and slow, they are twice as strong as humans, which makes them desirable to the military regardless.

Evangelite Soldiers spend long periods of time away from home, sometimes months or even years, which makes forming relationships difficult. This dworf has a beard as most of his kind do, but he has shaven his mustache to tell single women that he is unmarried at a glance.

DRAGONEER

Location: Oaken

Dragoneers are Evangeline Kingdom’s most elite soldiers, a fierce air force who rides flying, fire-breathing dragons into battle. This Dragoneer is dressed for the job in his unique armor, which differs from that of the standard soldier. His iron plates are thinner and fewer to keep him as lightweight as possible. His iron helmet has been replaced by a lighter leather one, accompanied by goggles and a face mask to protect his face from wind, rain, and debris as he speeds through the air. He earned his gold-plated belt buckle when he graduated from the dragoneering academy. He keeps it polished and displays it with pride, for it took many years of hard work to earn. His blue, fur lined cape shows his allegiance from a distance and keeps him warm at high altitudes.

Most dragoneers are human like this one, as their size and weight is ideal for riding war dragons, the most common mounts for air defense. However, the Evangelite military also utilizes other dragon species, such as very small ones for delivering messages and colossal ones for besieging enemy towns. Other peoples may be more ideal for handling those.

MARRIED TOWNSMAN

Location: Newell

The average, middle-class Evangelite man performs skilled jobs that slaves are not permitted to do, such as forestry and hunting. This man is a fur trapper, and his shaggy hairstyle is popular with those in his profession. City-dwellers may scoff at this look, but it’s considered “rugged” by his rural peers. He must work hard, as his mustache indicates that he has a wife to support. If he does not already have children, he likely will soon.

This Married Townsman is not wearing his hunting gear, but a more casual outfit that is typical for men of his demographic. His white shirt is simple and unassuming, but the slight flare in his sleeves adds a fashionable element that shows he can afford quality clothing. His leather vest is both practical and stylish, with its large pockets and sheep’s wool lining. His thick pants and rough boots are those of a typical rural working man–perhaps not the fanciest, but ones that get the job done.

The typical Evangelite Married Townsman tries to balance style and utility in the way he dresses, so that he can fit in among his peers, get his hands dirty when needed, and not embarrass his wife in public by looking poor or slovenly.

UNMARRIED TOWNSWOMAN

Location: Aldfog

Evangelite women display their relationship status by the way they style their hair. Covering their hair with a headscarf indicates that they’re married, wearing an updo might mean they’re dating someone or otherwise unavailable, and wearing their hair loose means they’re single and interested in marriage.

This young Unmarried Townsman is seeking a husband, as indicated by her simple yet well-groomed hair. She does not wear makeup, which is common for young, middle-class townswomen. She wears an emerald green dress with some flair in the sleeves and hem, which gives the impression that she is not poor, but not rich either. Her corset and boots are made of quality leather. Women of her demographic don’t typically adorn themselves with a lot of jewelry, and she is no exception, preferring to let her natural beauty speak for itself. She wears only a white beaded bracelet and an iron “Crowned Man” necklace, indicating that she is a Lindist.

It is rare for Unmarried Townswomen to be employed. They are typically supported by their parents until they marry, and then they are supported by their husband. However, just because they don’t work doesn’t mean they have nothing to do. Quite the contrary, these women are responsible for all the cooking, cleaning, caregiving, shopping, and planning in their households. Their outfits balance practicality and attractiveness so they can accomplish all this work while also beguiling a husband. Since they do not work, all the money they have is what their families have chosen to give them. This allowance is what they use to buy their clothes.

NOBLEMAN

Location: Queenswater

Evangelite nobles are citizens who rule a territory or are directly related to someone who does. Not all nobles are rich, but the vast majority are, and they display their wealth mainly through the clothes they wear. This man is an example of what the typical Evangelite Nobleman wears day-to-day. His outfit is not at all practical, but it doesn’t have to be, as his slaves take care of all practical matters for him.

Vivid blues are expensive pigments, but that’s obviously no concern for a man of his wealth. His blue silk shirt features puffy sleeves to make him appear big and important. The ends of his sleeves are adorned with white frills, which matches his necktie. Over his shirt he wears a poncho in rich blue and gold hues, its sides held together by silver chains. His fingers are decorated with flashy jeweled rings. White leggings extend up to his knees, giving his legs a desirable shape and drawing attention to his fine beaded leather shoes.

The Nobleman’s hair is worn in a style that locals call the “uptown sleek”, as it’s very popular with upper class Evangelites. The sides are combed back and the front is shaped into an elegant swoop. He has no facial hair, meaning he is not yet married. But as a noble, his family has likely arranged a marriage partner for him already, and then he may sport a thin, subdued mustache that is common amongst this kingdom’s wealthy.

NOBLEWOMAN

Location: Wintermoore

 Unlike lower class women, Evangelite noblewomen are not expected to cook, clean, or serve anyone, as they have slaves to do all that for them. They are not even permitted to rule territories except under very specific conditions, so they have a lot of free time to spare. They are taught that their most important job is to bear children and look their best, as if they are simply fashion accessories for their husbands. Not all noblewomen sit around and do nothing, however. Many of them have found hobbies or have involved themselves with causes that are important to them, such as volunteering for their local temples.

Even the wealthiest Evangelite women face many of the same restrictions and similar oppression to lower class women. Oftentimes looking good is all they are allowed to do, and so it is the only skill they develop. This mature Noblewoman has developed an eye for color, texture, and composition to dress herself fashionably each day. Her style is the envy of others, and it shows off her family’s great wealth to her peers at a glance, which is exactly what is expected of her.

She lives in the freezing territory of Wintermoore, so she must maintain her style while accounting for temperature, wind, and snow. She wears all purple hues–the most expensive of pigments. Her padded silk overdress is lined with fox fur for extra warmth, and the dress beneath is striped for visual interest. Her corset is made from the finest leather and dyed black for contrast. Her shoes are made of the same leather, decorated with fox fur puffballs to match her overdress. Her double-headwrap not only keeps her warm, it indicates to others that she is married at a glance. Lower classes don’t always have access to eyeglasses, so the ones on her face are a sign of her status.

Makeup is controversial when worn by lower class women, but it is practically mandatory for the upper classes. Like many wealthy Evangelite women, this Noblewoman has caked her face in white powder to make it appear lighter, giving the impression that she never spends time slaving away in the sun. Dramatic eyeshadow and blush are added to prevent her from looking sickly. She has decorated herself in large, fancy pieces of jewelry, and she has learned exactly how to pose in order to casually show them off.

OGRISH TRIBESMAN

Location: Blue Valley

Evangeline Kingdom enslaved all fae and gaians when it took over western Noalen, but it also forcefully assimilated the native commoner tribes as well…All but a few of the ogrish tribes, who simply proved too strong to conquer. These ogre strongholds were so well-defended, their ogrish residents so strong, and the kingdom had poured so many resources into trying to conquer them that it eventually gave up the idea altogether. Today, these ogrish strongholds are still standing all over the Blue Valley and operating independently from Evangeline Kingdom. The two forces have agreed to leave each other alone, though occasional conflicts do happen.

For this reason, the ogrish tribes still maintain their defenses and military forces. This particular Ogrish Tribesman is a warrior, identified as such by the dragon leather pauldron on his shoulder. All adult male ogres in his tribe are expected to work daily to feed their families, but they are also enrolled as soldiers by default, so they must be prepared for battle at a moment’s notice. The Ogrish Tribesman’s armor may seem lacking, but his tough skin acts as a natural armor as well. Too much armor will cost him speed and flexibility while he works his day job, and may also cause him to overheat, since ogres do not sweat efficiently. They fare well in the cold but poorly in the heat, so he does not wear much clothing at all. He does not even bother with shoes, as the calluses on his feet are as hard as stone.

What little he does wear is made from crude hides, furs, and leathers. It is rare for male Blue Valley ogres to wear jewelry because it can become a liability in battle. They also keep short, simple hairstyles for this reason.

HEMLOCK GIRL

Location: Merrowville

So-called “Hemlock Girls” are unmarried Evangelite women who pride themselves in their wild, carefree lifestyles. They are considered rebels in a culture that expects women to be quiet, modest, and subservient to men. Hemlock Girls can be identified by their loose, teased hair, which is often dyed, and their flashy clothing that shows more skin than this culture approves of. They also tend to wear bold makeup, tattoos, and flashy jewelry. They face much prejudice, which alienates them from regular society. They make a point to never marry or involve themselves with men long-term. Because of this, they are often forced into shady work such as drug dealing or prostitution to survive.

Evangelites view these women as lowly criminals, but this is not always the case. Some Hemlock Girls simply feel stifled by their suffocating culture and wish for a taste of freedom. In many cases, they are victims of sexual assault or mental illness who were deemed “soiled” and abandoned by their families out of shame. These abandoned, single women do not have many opportunities in Evangeline Kingdom, so instead of settling for an oppressive man, some remain single and form supportive gangs with each other, known as “Hemlock Gangs”.

This particular Hemlock Girl is wearing a red dress with elegant flared sleeves, but it exposes her cleavage and knees, which is considered scandalous in her culture. Her sheer stockings add color to her legs. Her hair is worn loose with natural roots and dyed ends, giving it a bold two-toned appearance. Drawing even more attention to her head is her colorful parrot feather headband. Her nails are painted and she has makeup on her face, something usually only seen on nobles and wealthy women, though she herself is of a low class. This indicates that she is likely a prostitute. Her necklace deliberately draws attention to her cleavage. She has several tattoos, which are something usually associated with male sailors, mercenaries, and soldiers in her culture. These tattoos display her dedication to her lifestyle, cementing her place in Evangelite society.

MORITE IMMIGRANT

Location: Rivermere

Evangeline Kingdom has a sizeable population of immigrants from Yerim-Mor Kingdom, who come seeking refuge from the war and death cults in their homeland. These immigrants are generally welcome, so long as they are commoners and they are willing to convert to Lindism. The path to Evangelite citizenship involves attending Lindist sermons regularly at the local temple. Each immigrant must be sponsored by a Lindist priest, who oversees their progress and is responsible for educating them about their new culture.

However, many Morite immigrants still cling to their old ways as much as they are able. This is displayed mainly in their food, music, and fashion choices. Evangelite culture encourages rather strict dress codes for different groups, such as single men and women, married men and women, lower classes, upper classes, and so on.

This female, roshavan Morite Immigrant obeys the Evangelite dress code by dressing modestly and covering her hair, as married women are expected to do. However, she adds her own Morite flair by wearing a veil over her face as well, which not only brings attention to her eyes, but protects her lungs from the sun and dust in her arid homeland. Morite women value the health of their skin very much, and so they prefer to cover as much of it as they can while outdoors. They often continue to do so even after moving to a more temperate climate, as this woman has shown. She wears a large green necklace to contrast with her red and orange garb. She does not wear a corset like most Evangelite women, as this is not considered fashionable or practical in her homeland. Instead, she has wrapped her breasts with cloth for comfort and breathability. Makeup is associated only with wealthy women and lowly prostitutes in Evangelite culture. But it is understood that Morite women have different beauty standards and like to draw attention to their eyes with kohl and eyeshadow, regardless of their wealth class. Morite immigrants are not judged as harshly for wearing makeup as native Evangelite women are.

RURAL HOUSEWIFE

Location: Rockreach

The rural peoples of Evangeline Kingdom have very different lifestyles than their urban counterparts. They live on larger plots of land, where they grow crops and raise animals to sustain themselves. They are much less reliant on gold and markets, and instead prefer to barter with their neighbors for goods. They don’t tend to have a lot of gold, so spending it is a last resort. Running these homesteads takes a lot of time and effort. Some families even invest in slaves to help them, as they may own more land than their family members can maintain.

Whether they own slaves or not, the Evangelite Rural Housewife still carries countless responsibilities upon her shoulders. Unlike urban women, who are usually responsible for indoor tasks, rural women are expected to manage both indoor and outdoor chores like planting, harvesting, animal care, cooking, child-rearing, cleaning, and more. Some tasks are considered taboo for women, like slaughtering animals and chopping wood. The Rural Housewife’s husband and sons are expected to take over these more hazardous tasks, but she is still expected to wake earlier and work longer hours than they do. Traditionally, these women are expected to have breakfast on the table before her family wakes up, and they may not go to bed until everyone else is tucked in for the night.

This dworfen Rural Housewife’s outfit is modest yet practical. She wears her sleeves rolled up because she knows they will get dirty otherwise. A headscarf covers her head to signal that she is married, but it does not completely cover all of her hair, which is a slightly controversial fashion choice in this culture. Older generations seem to disapprove of this more than younger ones. She does not wear any jewelry or makeup because she is not interested in impressing anyone or flaunting her wealth; her only concern is feeding her family. She is far too busy for frills, so her dresses are understated in style. But she also doesn’t want to look like a slave, so she makes sure they do not have holes and she wears multiple layers to protect the ones beneath. Female dworfs normally have beards just as the males do, but this one has shaven hers to conform with the Evangelite humans’ beauty standard. Otherwise, non-dworfen peoples in her community often mistake her for a crossdressing man, which is highly frowned upon in their culture.

SEE ALSO

Queen Indiga

Evangelite Territories

Evangelite Hairstyles

Evangelite Cuisine

Ask - Evangeline

Artwork - Galanis Family

Artwork - Mathias and Angeline

Artwork - Habrene and Sofia

Artwork - Evan Outfits

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[bagelrites]

Skephalo gets drunkenly married at Las Vegas. Afterwards, Bad wants to get divorced. It isn’t fair to keep Skeppy off the market. Skeppy would do anything to not divorce

UR MIND!!! This filled me with demons, I need them to get married immediately 😭😭😭

“Oh my gosh.” Bad stared down at the paperwork, his head still pounding, the painkillers having not yet taken effect. Still, even in his desperately hungover state, he was of sound enough mind to see that the marriage license was real. 

He and Skeppy had gotten so drunk last night that they actually got married.

“Skeppy. Skeppy we fudged up,” he said, covering his face with his hands.

“Yeah, um. Not our best decision,” Skeppy said. “But the pictures are cute.”

“Pictures?” Bad turned around with a horrified gasp, and Skeppy just giggled, lifting his phone for Bad to see. They were all sent via text—it looked like Hannah took them—and though Skeppy scrolled through them too fast for Bad to really take in, he had to admit, it did make his heart do something funny in his chest to see them. The lighting was intense, the casino dimly lit and all vintage orange tones, the camera flash giving their skin stark highlights. But their eyes sparkled, their grins were wide, and when the cheap gold bands they’d bought from the on-the-spot officiant went on their fingers, they kissed each other like it was all real. Like they were really in love.

Shame Bad didn’t remember any of it.

“We’re never gonna hear the end of this. And did you sleep here last night?” Bad gestured to the room: his hotel room. “We’re never gonna hear the end of that either.”

“So? Let them think whatever they want.” Skeppy shrugged. “They probably already thought we were fucking.”

“Language! Oh my goodness.” Bad paced around the room, dragging his hands over his cheeks. “We have to get divorced, now, Skeppy. This is such a mess!”

“What?” Skeppy sounded surprised and upset, and Bad stopped, turning towards him again.

“What do you mean?” Skeppy asked, his voice a little shaky, though he was trying to laugh it off. “Why do we have to get divorced?”

“Because we’re not… together?” Bad looked at him with furrowed brows, equally confused. “We were drunk, Skeppy! And marriage is serious! I can’t just take you off the market because of one stupid drunk mistake.”

Skeppy’s lips pressed together like he was suppressing a frown.

“I mean. Yeah, it was stupid how it happened, but, like… that doesn’t mean we can’t figure it out,” he mumbled.

“What? No. No, no, no, Skeppy, come on. I’m not gonna force you to stay with me just because—”

“You wouldn’t be forcing me,” Skeppy cut him off, and Bad’s mouth went dry.

“What?”

“You wouldn’t be forcing me,” Skeppy repeated, louder, more confident. “But if you want to get a divorce—if you don’t want this—then. Fine. Obviously I’m not gonna… take you off the market, or whatever stupid thing you’re concerned about.”

Bad blinked, his mouth hanging open, unsure what to say.

“You… you want to actually… be my husband?” he said, the word so heavy, it almost made him dizzy. “That’s serious, Skeppy. I mean, we were never even—not officially—you know?”

“Yeah, well. We’ve always kinda done things out of order. Haven’t we?” Skeppy said.

Bad looked down, his cheeks flushed. Last night wasn’t the first time they’d kissed. In fact, they’d done a lot of things Bad used to say he’d only do with a committed partner, but he’d made an exception for Skeppy. He’d accepted that to be with him, he had to let it be looser than he really wanted. He had to let Skeppy be free—he couldn’t just take him off the market, as he always said.

And yet. He’d never asked if that’s what Skeppy really wanted. 

“You’d… you’d commit yourself?” Bad asked. “To me?”

“I did last night, didn’t I?”

“But you were drunk.”

“Okay.” Skeppy laughed and stepped closer, taking Bad’s hand in his own, rubbing his finger over the ring. “So let me say it again.”

Bad gulped. Skeppy put his other hand on his cheek, looked him in the eye.

“I, Skeppy, take you, BadBoyHalo,” he started, grinning giddy at their names, “to be my husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and health, for poorer and for richer, until death do we part.”

“Oh my god,” Bad shuddered out the whisper, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“Do you?” Skeppy asked.

“I do.” Bad answered without hesitation, and pressed a hard, passionate kiss to Skeppy’s lips. Skeppy wrapped his arms around Bad’s shoulders, and Bad held him by the waist, grip so tight, he couldn’t ever imagine letting go again.

[lunion]

There's something that's been hurting me for the longest time that I want to vent about, though it can be lenghty. Also, spoilers for Mother 3.

The mother series have been for the longest time my favorite videogame franchise of all time. However, this last year I realized it was no longer the case. That wouldn't be a problem if iy weren't for the reason behind it: My best friend and the discussion we had.

Context time:

I had a sheltered, but otherwise unpleasant childhood. Bullied at school, difficulties on social circles, depressed mother and absent father getting a divorce, a complicated relationship with organized religion... life for kid-me was unfulfilling, underwhelming and gave me nothing to look forward for the future.

However, one of the things that kept me going was indeed, the Mother series. It stroke the perfect and necessary balance to give me hope. It's not a perfect comfort game where nothing goes wrong because it'd feel cheap like "of course these people are happy. These problems were conveniently removed from game", but neither it was a tragedy fest where every problem is real and we can never get a break from the suffering ever. The Mother series acknowledged a lot of problems like police corruption, parental abuse, loss and so forth, but in a palatable manner that made me believe that we could overcome these things.

Eventually, childhood and adolencence have passed and I found myself breaking away from organized religion to find my own faith. I stumbled here and there, but I was moving forward.

And then comes in my best friend.

He's still one of the most caring people i've ever met, but unfortunately, he has a flaw that can make it hard to deal with sometimes. A poorly repressed, yet never acknowledged contempt for spirituality and religion.

We've had some discussions about it before, but the gist of it is that he would try to say something like "you're free to follow whatever religion you want", but always with the undertone of "but you're fucking stupid AND coping for doing so"

Then comes these last 5 years.

These last god forsaken 5 years of my life were filled to the brim with struggle, solitude and pushing through a pervading feeling of aimlessness as I tell myself my goals are not for naught.

My friend group withered, I moved away back to the hometown I hate, had no one that shared my beliefs with me, I started dealing with family problems so bad I had to go back to therapy and the pandemic did not help.

Practicing one's faith alone during this time was also much harder, especially when I started questioning my own beliefs.

Last year, I visited my friend just to hang out. I don't even remember how we got to the topic of spirituality, but I know we did and he asked me to explain my faith to him again. TL;DR, I share many buddhist principles, believe in past lives and higher planes of existance.

The real challenge was trying to explain it to him in a way he wouldn't dismiss as an hallucination, delirium or otherwise.

I could not.

I left that conversation feeling absolutely stupid of ever believing in any semblance of religion or any faith.

Fast forward for a couple months later and I am playing Mother 3.

I've cleared the mother series about 6 times at this point and every couple of years I'd play them all over again because I always come out differently from the experience, given how I've changed and my different lens let me appreciate the games more and in differnt ways.

This time, something very different happened.

I was at the end of the game, during the Masked Man fight. As any Mother fan can tell, the most emotional point in the series. But here is the thing. Unlike every other time I played the game, when Hinawa appeared in that scene, I was not overcome with emotion, relief or even moved.

Instead, my only thought was "what the fuck is this doing here?"

This scene, which brought me to tears many times before and made me cherish the love shared between these characters and even between people in real life, was now making me cringe and feel disgusted.

At that moment. It felt cheap. It felt like it was 'coping', as thoughts swimmed through my head:

"Talk about wish fulfilment. Kid's so traumatized he's making up in his mind his mother is still alive."

"Why tf can't people accept that hinawa is fucking dead? She and everything she brought is GONE. No amount of wishing will ever change that in any meaningful way."

"This is stupid"

All of these things came to me during what was supposed to be one of the most beautiful scenes I've seen in fiction. One of the moments that gave me the most pain, but also the most strenght.

At that moment, I was also crying, but not because the usual reasons.

I was crying because I saw myself, couldn't recognize myself and I didn't like what I saw.

The next months were rough. A good therapist helped, though.

I learned I can't have everyone, especially those who are set in their own beliefs, to validate mine, even if they are family or best friends.

I know I was sensitive at the time for all the problems that I mentioned ealier in this post.

But I also realized that my diminished affection towards the mother games were not to do with me growing up, but due to a bad memory staining my feelings for the games. A memory that has nothing to do with the games themselves and more to do with how hurt and stupid I felt because of that discussion that I had.

I no longer feel like that, but the feeling of hurt still remains. I want to start healing from it. Putting all this experience in words is the first step.

[11cleyvaart]

Quimby headcanons maybe?😘😘

These are just my headcanons of Quimby, and some of them are also observed from the shows as well that keep his character in canon. And I'm sure I missed something too.

To be clear this is for my Inspector Gadget Au, where it's more gritty and more like the futuristic aspect rather than the 1980-2015 world of Gadget. 

His full name is Frank Mitchel Quimby. 

He's also 41 years old. He's been married to a woman for 20 years, and has been divorced just recently. 

He's a closeted homosexual, but feels more at ease and comfortable with Gadget than anyone else. He's known Augustin for years on the force and later turned into a romantic relationship between them. Their relationship slightly boarders on a rebound relationship.

His father was a military veteran and amputee, so he had years of understanding for those who have lost parts of them. Which allows him to understand Gadget on that level as well. 

Years of smoking a pipe gives him a permanent scent of peaches. He likes his flavoured tobacco for his pipe and will always have a faint peach fruit to his clothes. Yet on most days he doesn't smoke his pipe, mostly just to have something in his mouth. All his pencils have bite marks so he opted to just holding his wooden pipe in his mouth instead. 

He's an undercover agent himself, usually the one who gets the information on MAD and their plans. Making him the most sought after man in the entire department to be killed. He uses his stealth and many disguises to hide in plain sight.

So he lives a life of stress, and picks at his tie causing it to be loose and crumbled. He goes through them but it is too cheap to buy new ones. His stress also contributes to his weight gain as he rarely lives at his own home anymore in fear of MAD finding him, so he eats fast-food alot. He's a big meat guy, likes burgers and sausages with little on the veggies. 

He's also a skilled shooter, his shape may not show it but he's very capable of moves after years of service to the force. 

His favourite weapon of choice is the S&W Model 39, a small gun that takes much longer to learn to shoot but it serves its purpose. Even if it's defunct at this point he loves the feel of it and wouldn't want to replace it. 

Now after all that's said and done, he's also a masochist. He loves a good bite here and there getting his head shoved down on Gadget's ‘gadget’. He lives to be subject to pain within his limits. In his first marriage, it was a dead and loveless time. But with Augustin, he's more free to be the person who was hiding in him all along. He's a complete bottom and doesn't mind it as long as his top is his Inspector. Yet due to Gadget's sheer weight from his machinery, Quimby rides cowgirl. With missionary position a limited event that is used to hit their sweet spots, especially Quimby's. 

To everyone else he is mean and quick to anger but with Augustin he's a soft and gentle man. He also has a caring spot for Penny, especially little Penny. He feels more motherly towards her and will do anything in his power to be sure her uncle comes home alive everyday. 

A firm advocate for Inspector Gadget and his ability to solve crimes, when sometimes he is just blinded in his infatuation for the man he believes Augustin can do anything. So he automatically congratulates him even when Augustin knows he didn't do anything.