#i dont have it in me to write the fic so the flailing will have to do

[brennacedria]

I have so many cozy scenes for Kaela and Lucanis and even Spite.

Like Kaela reading adventure stories to Spite every night so that he doesn't move around too much and disturb Lucanis's sleep. The deal is that after at least an hour, but often more, Spite has to lay in bed quietly for Lucanis's sake.

Lucanis figuring it out, and coming to read Kaela stories when she inevitably gets sick from not getting enough rest herself. He reads until she falls asleep, then sits with her, resting while being nearby in case she wakes and needs anything.

The both of them cuddled on the sofa in the dining hall, reading to each other after dinner.

Her surprising him with cinnamon cookies, because she can't make churros but she DOES make really good cookies and having them ready when he wakes up from the mandatory nap she makes him take.

Him not meeting her at the eluvian after trips to places like Hossberg, but rather he goes directly to the baths (oh yeah, the lighthouse provided a Tevinter bath in the new basement to the dining hall) and preparing everything for her to scrub down then soak for an hour, so she can get all the blight and grime off and just relax while he and Bellara prepare dinner.

Her moving to another room in the lighthouse (with a real bed!) with windows for her but heavy drapes to block out the view of the Fade for him, so that he doesn't have to spend time with the meditation room's aquarium, which Kaela assumes would remind him and Spite too much of the Ossuary.

Lucanis making more and more trips to Kaela's new room at night, not officially moving in because he still feels most comfortable in the confined space of the pantry, but still spending enough time in her room that he may as well move in. Their relationship has eventually progressed by this point, but still most nights they just lay together until falling asleep, or reading to each other still.

Occasionally Spite still wakes up while Lucanis sleeps, but he and Kaela have their agreement now, where he stays calm and sits with her while she reads, or they play cards, or anything relaxing like that. She wonders at one point, can Spite read? If not, she finds a way to teach him, and then he joins in the tradition they've all developed of reading to one another in quiet, cozy moments.

Spite never becomes other than spite, he's given enough opportunity to live his role, but he gains more of the traditional traits of Determination and Affection in the progress, and he doesn't rail against the transition.

Ultimately, the time comes to leave the Lighthouse for good; Lucanis just can't push off the Crows any longer, and his responsibilities to them become more than he can manage from the Fade. They all move to Treviso, but not to the manor proper; a cottage on the grounds (if it could be called that--it's still more grand than Kaela's childhood home, which was not insignificant) is more appropriate for the intimate little life they've all built together.

They continue indefinitely while he leads the Crows, and she uses the eluvians to spend her days in Minrathous rebuilding the Shadow Dragons, this time with the official support of the Archon. Every night they both come home to their cottage, and read or play cards or other little games. Lucanis teaches Kaela to make churros, and she teaches him her mother's recipe for cinnamon cookies.

Their friends don't get to visit as often as they like, in spite of having eluvian access; they come for important dates and anniversaries though, including for a long-delayed wedding at the main Dellamorte manor.

[k0yaz]

https://www.tumblr.com/k0yaz/758473618729615360/arlecchino-x-married-man-reader-please-oh-wait

Pause- this gave me a vision

Good Luck, Babe! by C.R lyric angst fic Arlecchino x Reader 😼

With happy ending tho 🔫

Like Reader married some mf from the male species when her and Arl were younger (18-20) because she was in denial abt her feelings for Arl and married him as a ‘f u, I totally love men’ but even after a few years Arlecchino can still tell she’s MISERABLE

Wait- double the angst and make Reader someone who’s known for being smart, powerful and just super cool in general but her husband is constantly trying to make her be seen as just his wife and never acknowledges any of the amazing things she does ☹️

I told you so.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, modern au, angst, comphet, more than usual swearing, girls kissing bro why is this even a warning it’s obvi, sexism, misogyny, bad husband ewwww, arle’s real name used at the very beginning, mentions of ugly ass guy inappropriately touching without consent ew, arguing, mild violence, fluff at end, not proofread.

A/N: needed to desperately write this my girlkisser ass is in code red rn cause of my parents 💀‼️ ALSO I DONT LIKE HOW THIS CAME OUT IT SUCKS 🕯️

“I don’t! I could never be into girls, Peruere!”

Back flush to the roughened couch, your aching body stretched backwards into a domed arch as your arms flailed out for leverage. Those words you had so foolishly uttered all those years ago echoed over and over in your brain like a broken record, clouding your mind like a plaguing guilt weighing down every waking moment of your life that followed. You let out a defeated sigh, the exhale dragging out longer than it should have to the point where you felt as if your own breath had tickled your lower lip. The small rush of air…it reminded you of when you felt Arlecchino’s breath gently caress the side of your face as her lips hovered over your cheek, her looming frame inching closer and closer to you as you reciprocated.

Everything. Everything reminded you of her.

The crimson lipstick resting atop the bedside table, the intoxicating scent of the perfume she always used to wear—being inhaled so deeply by you to the point where it tickled the tightened crevices of your throat. You’d spray a little on your pillows often as well, the dizzying smell with a hint of fresh roses accompanying the comfort it burned into you, and helping you fall asleep often. After all, sleeping turned into more of a hobby whenever you found yourself sharing a bed with the said “man of your dreams.”

His weight bundled onto the side of the bed situated beside you only sent a pit of sickness bubbling up within you, teeth gritting as you would lay on your side. The silky pillows enveloped your head as your nightgown loosely covered your body, hand slipped below the side of your head as you faced away from your husband. Sleeping with that man was nothing short of a clawing nightmare. Every damn night, you’d uncomfortably writhe within the blankets draped over your shoulders as you silently prayed for him to fall asleep as soon as possible, the wait getting so awful over all these years that you’d always count the digital clock situated atop the bedside table next to your head.

10:01…10:02..10:03..10:04. Finally.

The earliest he’d slept was 10:04. Giving you enough time to get lost in your maelstrom of guilt and ambiguous thoughts piled up within you.

The dotted red glow of the broken numbers displayed on the clock beside you illuminated the corner of your face dimly, eyelids low as you mindlessly gazed at the smooth wood of the table your head almost shifted onto after nearly falling off the pillow. Archons. You fucking miss her. You miss Arlecchino so much it hurts. You wish that you didn’t marry this awful, entitled man child just to prove a point that only consisted of you placing another mask of suffering upon yourself to conceal your truth. A mask that was cracked and easy to see through anyway. His irritating snores continued to buzz along the vicinity of the room, sounding more like a rumbling growl shaking the bed to be frank.

You hated him, to put it simply. You only married him to prove that you couldn’t fall in love with a girl. He was the one that was at the other end of the table with his chin resting on his hand as he gazed at you in a covetous manner, cocky grin pasted onto his vile face. The was the first suitor you thought would accommodate to your delusion.

���(Name) will you marry me?”

Each syllable hung in the air for an extended in a way that made you want to choke, blood rushing to every part of your body to seep into your sunken heart. With a stiff nod, your shaky hand slowly inched forward palm down, veins protruding along the tightened flesh as you fought the urge to hold it back and prevent him from grasping it. Swallowing back a sob, your bottom lip quivered between your teeth as his rugged hand dragged along your skin, tainting it with his unkempt, rough touch. Heads of goosebumps blistered along your hand as the freezing metal circled your ring finger tightly, suffocating your finger between the tight ring like a corset. He didn’t even bother to affirm your size. But you knew full well that she would’ve made sure that ring slipped seamlessly in perfect fit.

The gyrating ceiling fan above you whirled in rapid motions as the cool breeze emitted from it brushed along your skin, all the way up to fluffing your hair. Your eyes remained lifessly tracing the swift afterimages of the fan as you lounged on the couch, not minding your husband’s exasperated complaints piling up one after another with each venomous word he spoke.

“(Name). I told you to make me dinner when I got home from work, so where the hell is it? I’m fucking starving over here you good for nothing whore!”

Your brows furrowed together at his degrading words, face scrunching up with prominent wrinkles of irritation adorning your features. Upper body carefully elevating off the arm of the couch, you brought your palm to your forehead, before pinching the bridge of your nose with a sharp inhale. Silence swallowed the room from your lack of response to his insolent remarks and insults, only cut through by his heavy breathing vibrating against his throat. Clearing your throat finally, you were able to articulate your words in the small window of time you had before he could cut your off once more. Even the mere scratch of clearing your throat felt relieving once he ceased to speak, feeling as if there was a pass way of freedom which released you from the cage of his grasp.

“I’m exhausted. Cook your own dinner, I physically and emotionally can’t do this right now.” You replied coldly, collapsing back down onto the couch into your returned comfort as the fluffy cushions pressed flush against your spine. His face only contorted into anger, slightly reddened like an unstable child rather than a grown man. “You’re my wife. You’re supposed to cook for me! That’s your job not mine!” He bit back, hands folded over his chest and gaze staring daggers into your relaxed form.

Tilting your head over to his upright figure, you simply cocked an eyebrow, staring back at him with heavy lidded eyes as if he was just a mutt ordering you around.

“I’m not only your wife, you know. I’m my own person. I don’t have to cater to everything you want.”

“You know that you’re inferior to me. Ever since we got married that’s how it should’ve been! But no you had to go do your own little thing!”

“Then how should it be? Come on enlighten me.”

Your annoyance began elevating to a boiling point with each little thing he spat at you, every remark of inferiority made you fall further and further into a hole of sorrow and anger as he spoke each revolting “truth” about his twisted views. You couldn’t help but grasp the fabric of the cushion below you forcefully, wrinkling the fabric in every direction with your husband’s endless remarks spilling from his undignified lips.

“And once a woman is married to a man, they become his wife, and his wife only!”

Slamming a hand down onto the couch, you rose to your feet in one quick motion, glaring up at your husband’s wrinkled face of rage. Letting out a quick huff, you only took in the simmer of the broken air conditioner enveloping the silence once more as a means to tranquillize your boiling anger, breathing ragged as your heart rate skyrocketed from everything you bit back through the course of the argument.

“…I’m going to bed.”

“This early? I wanted a night with you (Na-)”

“You’re not fucking getting one.”

You winced slightly, hunching your shoulders as your skin grew hot from discomfort. Closing your eyes, you only braced yourself for the string of unending curses spewing from your husband’s mouth. Simply, you lowered your gaze as everything surrounding you was manually shut out. Mind enveloped in a pitch black void of emptiness, the only noise flicking at your cold ears being the unnerving ticks of a clock.

How much longer would you have to endure this?

The floorboards only sang out a ghastly creaking noise as you set your foot down upon each elevating slab of wood, the faint yet evident noise reminding you of the man below you having his eyes utterly fixated on your every move like a hawk eyeing its next catch. It was nothing short of disturbing and unsettling for you. Slowly, you made your way over to the entrance of your unfortunately shared bedroom, pushing open the heavy door with a fervent shove.

You couldn’t help but finally take in a deep breath as you flopped down onto the bed, body comfortably sinking into the plush of the silk mattress accommodating your exhausted self. Head still continuing to swirl with a wave of unresolved emotions, and a caged feeling confining to gnaw at you endlessly, you reached into your left pocket to whip your phone in front of your face. Rolling over onto your stomach, you thumbed aimlessly through the various contacts rowed out along your glowing screen, scrolling until you found the one you were looking for.

The contact you are calling does not exist.

Shit.

You just stared at Arlecchino’s inactive contact with deadpan, hopeless eyes, blinking twice to process it once more. You truly couldn’t reach her could you? Having lost all hope, you simply set aside your phone as it fell flat onto the wood with a knock, and you rolled yourself onto your back to combat the pure insanity of your fate enveloping you.

“I told you so.”

The already wrinkled bedsheets below you only bundled together further as you swayed onto your back and side alternately, holding the pillow up to your face with a muffled yell. Her words only continued to return to you with every moment you were awake, perhaps even in death your regret wouldn’t cease to eat away at you for locking yourself into this awful pact. Dim slivers of pale light brightened the left half of your face, glowing from the burning lamp on the table as you squinted upon the sudden flood of light blinding you.

The one thing you longed not to hear at this moment was your husband’s footsteps drawing closer and closer to the bedroom, heavily bellowing against the floorboards. Remaining on your side, your arm tightened slightly from the pressure of your torso cushioning it into the mattress, the mattress sinking deep upon your husband making his way beside you on the bed.

“(Name). Turn off that light.” He grumbled. The stinging odor of his excessive cologne only caused you to choke back a retch, gagging from the pungent smell assaulting your nostrils. You merely decided that he wasn’t worth any more trouble, and you remained too exhausted to even snap back at such a childish individual. Slowly, you reached over to clasp the handle of the switch, thumb fitted against the teardrop shaped steel of the end. For a moment you hesitated, gaze flickering behind you for a brief second—only to catch his eyes tracing your every move. In a sudden, burly voice, he cleared his throat to speak to you, tone remaining arrogant around you as if he had authority over you.

“Tomorrow we’re going to some big event with a few rich people here and there, nothing much. Dress nice tomorrow, we leave at 3 pm.”

You scoffed, squinting your eyes back at him while your body remained facing away. Of course. As always he goes and makes decisions for the both of you without even considering your words or plans.

“And you’re telling me this now?” You retorted, cocking an eyebrow while sharp breaths emanated from the man beside you, indicating his loss of patience. Not that he had any to begin with. “I can do what I want, bitch. Try not to embarrass me with your usual displays of arrogance, ‘kay, (Name)? There’s gonna be a couple rich people there.” Rolling your eyes, you only delivered a small nod in response, not wanting anymore trouble especially when you desperately needed some rest. “Yeah.”

Finally, your tugged down onto the cord of the lamp, the pale yellow light dimming and blowing out completely. Your husband was completely knocked out by the time you lowered yourself onto your side, facing away from him. Rumbling snores reverberated throughout the room, ringing in your ears repeatedly as you folded the edges of your pillow over either side of your head in an attempt to block out every noise.

It wasn’t too early in the morning, rather the darkness spread out within the frame of the window accompanied by the low glimmer of light outlining the moon suggested it was sometime in the middle of the night still. Deep quakes of breathing racked the vicinity the moment you took in your surroundings, alerting you awake altogether. Of course. It was him again. Letting out a subtle, quiet groan, you buried your face into your cupped palms, fingertips tracing along the flat of your forehead as you cloaked your face within your hands.

Was this all you were now? Nothing more than his trophy wife just like he wanted?

A light buzz from your phone lit up the device, making its glowing screen noticeable from the corner of your groggy eyes. You leaned over, inspecting the notification you had received so late at night. There was a single gray bar with the calendar icon in a box to the left of it, the lines: “Rich people dinner at 3” displayed along the margins of the bar. Great. Not only does he set notifications on your phone without asking, but he also doesn’t even formally address the dinner. You simply sighed, breath shaky as you constantly found yourself struggling to come to terms with your current reality clawing at you.

—

“(Name) come on! We’re gonna be late and the fancy pricks’ll look at us like we’re broke!”

You scrunched up your upon hearing him calling you like a barbarian, your dress halfway hitched up to make a few adjustments for a good fit. Loud bangs against the door only heightened your brewing annoyance, causing you to manually drown out his calls as another screeching white noise in the background. The silk of the dress tightly fitted your figure, framing every inch of you and hugging each blooming curve of your body. You hunched your shoulder forward, turning to your side to inspect the dress as a smile crossed your face. For once you felt quite confident in yourself rather than sulking about your husbands antics.

It didn’t take long for you to suddenly be snapped out of your daze as the and of the door swung open against the wall, revealing your husband with his arms folded in the doorway. You nearly choked on your own breath, coughing in shock as the sudden thud of wood banging against the wall had startled you, making your body jolt.

“Well, you look like a snack don’t you?” He sneered, causing you to instinctively brush your hands along your elbows as you folded your arms, physically recoiling from his forward advances. You thumbed at the fabric anxiously, sucking in a breath of fearful anticipation with each step he took. That was until his arm grasped at the dip of your waist tightly, fingers digging in as if he wasn’t going to let you go. There wasn’t much you could do besides hold your breath as you felt yourself being pulled against him, perturbation screaming at every single mental alarm, every possible sense you had before yanking away from him to fix the front of your dress.

“Please. Enough. You said we’ll be late, right?”

He only flashed you a grin, taking your hand in his, which you almost immediately yanked away from.

“Yeah. Get in the car. Remember no smartass remarks. And if anyone asks, you’re my wife. Nothing more.”

You averted your gaze at his statement, only walking over to the door of the sleek rental car before climbing into the back seat. No way you were about to get into the passenger seat next to him. Once you seated yourself into the back against the smooth leather, you proceeded to draw in the remaining droops of fabric your dress hung out of the car before shutting the door and leaning back into the head rest.

The ride felt like it was driving past various roads and buildings for hours, each time you gazed out the window to see a tree flash by quickly feeling as if it had been a century since you had first gotten into the car. However, you found yourself lazily parked—courtesy of your husband—before a opulent hall towering above you and lit up brightly despite the sun peeking behind the clouds in the afternoon. Two large doors framed the opening carved around the center, adorned with outlines of black steel, and large knockers stuck on the inner part of the door frame. A lanky man in a suit stood upright beside the parted door, arms tucked behind his back as his eyes scanned each person who made their way in and out of the building hall.

You exited the confines of the car, ducking your head to avoid hitting it along the roof before standing straight and closing the car door behind you. Your husband only shoved your shoulder in response, grasping your wrist as he dragged you along with him with haste before the doors. You didn’t even bother to protest, and flashed the guard a weak smile as your heels dragged along the rolled out carpet leading into the hall. Just get this over with. You’ll be fine.

He finally released your hand carelessly, not paying any mind to you while you shook your wrist and blew on it to subside the effects of his tight grasp. The chandelier decorated with candles rocked back and forth above your head, while various bars and tables stocked with food and drinks furnished every corner of the hall. Along with that, a large screen flashed at the very front of the hall blared loudly along with the speakers situated on both sides of the screen.

—

The entire event had been nothing but a bore. Rich man after rich man bragging about his company which he knew nothing about. The people who came up to you and your husband when you both were standing by each other attempting to converse with the two of you, and inquire more about you, were only met with your husband’s constant boasts about how you were merely his wife. Your achievements were his too, and therefore he was the one credited. This only led up to you isolating from him, and practically everyone at the party, drowning your sorrows away in glass after glass of champagne. Thankfully, your high alcohol tolerance allowed you to remain appearing sober, only needing to tighten your hand around the table for support occasionally.

Heavy lidded, you brought another glass to your lips as you tilted your head back in one jerk, gulping down the alcoholic beverage and squeezing your eyes shut. You let out a quiet hum as you set down the glass on the table behind you, dragging along the table cover as you examined the vicinity through droopy eyes. The same. Everyone was just wearing suits and that god awful smug expression. You simply rubbed your forehead, stress lines forming along your skin as your massaged it.

That was until a dashing figure caught your eye. Someone familiar.

You squinted your eyes once more, catching a single streak of black hair blended into white, a thin ponytail trailing down her nape to the back of her white suit. At this point, you were sure the drinks had definitely done something to you. You just missed her so much you were going insane and hallucinating like a typical drunkard. Yet, you couldn’t mistake that piercing gaze—near glowing red crosses embedded into her pitch black pupils within heavy eyes.

Despite still being drunk, you shouldered through the crowd, halting upon reaching the circle of people crowding the alluring woman who held a glass of wine between her sharp, black faded fingertips. Her crimson lipstick glistened as a hint of wine smeared across it, expression remaining indifferent to the heaps of people surrounding her while she leaned onto the table. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It really was her.

Arlecchino. Where have you been this whole time?

Steep breaths caught in your throat, you pushed past the crowd, stumbling occasionally and not minding their complaints. You wanted to do so much. Cry, hug her, apologize, run away from your caged marriage, talk to her, catch up—everything. She simply turned her back to the crowd before you could even reach a viable proximity near her, stepping away to a more secluded location. Your heart sank as you began to lose sight of her, gaze fixated on her white suit with the emblem in the center of her chest as you continued to keep your eyes on her in the crowd no matter what.

You paved through each bundle of people blocking your path, staggering occasionally due to your own drunkenness as you finally caught sight of Arlecchino leaned against a polished wall near a table, eyes fluttered shut as she sipped her refined glass of red wine. Breathing heavily, you staggered over to her, resting yourself at her side before slowly trailing your sights up to her face with bleary eyes and a near pleading expression.

“Arle..?”

She only cocked an eyebrow in response, staring down at you with a cold gaze lacking recognition. “Do I know you?”

Hurt burned in your throat as you fought not to cry upon hearing those words from Arlecchino’s lips, your own bottom lip being dragged between your teeth to prevent making its fervent trembling noticeable.

“Arle, it’s me, please.” You choked out, placing a hand on your chest while panting heavily as you locked eyes with hers. “It’s me, (Name)..” you mumbled under your breath in a shaky voice, tears threatening to sting the corner of your eyes at any given moment. Arlecchino suddenly set down her glass, coming face to face with you before her own eyes widened at your familiar features.

“Ah. It really is you isn’t it?”

Although her tone remained calm and collected, it wasn’t hard to tell how her voice softened for you, growing sweet like nectar dripping from her crimson lips. You nearly sobbed upon feeling her hand gently brush along your cheek, your own hand resting atop hers as you leaned into her touch, trembling. You could barely articulate what you wanted to say, each word coming in short breaths as droplets of tears pricked at your eyes subtly.

“My darling. You haven’t changed much. Still as beautiful as the day I met you…” her thumb circled the skin of your cheek, eyes roaming down to the same crimson lipstick she used decorating your own lips. “…and the day you departed from me.”

“Arle- I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then! I can’t live like this any longer! I can’t! I knew it was you ever since I didn’t listen to what my feelings told me! Please! I love you, Peruere!” You gasped out desperately in one breath in a near sob, clinging onto Arlecchino like a lifeline as you grasped at the fabric of her coat. She only let out a soft hum, resting her chin onto your head as she took in your scent. You were wearing her perfume. Soothingly, her fingertips traced a repetitive pattern of comforting circles along your back, something she always did when you both were in your youth to calm you down.

“(Name). I’ve never once lost my feelings for you. I love you. And you only. I’m just, pleased that I get to see you again.” She sighed, burying her nose into your soft tufts of hair at the top of your head as she hugged you. She hemmed her arms around your vulnerable form holding her tightly, almost like a promise to never let you go again, to protect you from any harm that dared cross your path. Wiping your eyes, you cleared your throat as you pulled away from your moment of weakness, standing straight before Arlecchino as your palms nervously clasped together in front of you.

“Tell me, how awful is he to the point where he broke you like this..?”

“Terrible. Straight from hell if I could say. I’m stuck. I’m so fucking stuck you don’t even know.”

“I see.”

She paused, proceeding to say her next words.

“Would you reprimand me if I said once more that I told you so?”

You shook your head, contrasting the initial reaction you had when you first lashed out at her all those years ago.

“Nope. I’d affirm that you were right. I shouldn’t have complied with what society wants if it means I have to suffer.” You replied, gritting your teeth together as you looked away in shame. Arlecchino only placed a hand on your shoulder, running her arm down the curve of your shoulder as her sleek hands traveled down the flushed skin of your arm. “You would always get warm like this when I touched you.” She reminisced, letting out an exhale of contentment.

All of a sudden, the comfort of the moment was shattered by your husband’s voice, slicing through the tranquility harbored between you and her mere moments ago.

“Ah! (Name)! Who’s this? A friend?”

He eagerly shook her hand, while Arlecchino’s gaze grew resentful and repulsed of the man before her, her own hand clasped around his with every ounce of hatred she possessed. Brows furrowing, she immediately pulled her hand back, manner remaining distinctive, yet subtly aggressive.

“Ah, you may talk to me now in fact. This woman is my wife! And she’s just my wife don’t worry about it. Anything she told you is my achiev-“

“Shut your fucking mouth. Before I shut it for you—nauseating son of a bitch.” She replied harshly, eyes locked on him with nothing but murderous intent.

“Don’t speak to me that way you slut-!”

He was cut off by Arlecchino’s firm grasp on his wrist, nails digging into his flesh barely. Although—her mere strength alone was enough to nearly shatter his wrist, making him cry out for mercy and forgiveness from the woman looking down upon him. Fear clouded his eyes for the first time you had ever seen as Arlecchino looked him in the eye, his pupils shaking from anticipation and fear. “Refrain from speaking about her like that, or treating her poorly. If I find out about your disgusting antics again I’ll personally tear you apart limb by limb, understood?”

Before he could respond, she tossed him aside like a ragdoll as he gripped his arm in agony lip quivering at the searing pain ripping at the aftermath of his wrist. In the meantime, you felt Arlecchino’s lips brush against your ear, staining the shell a light blood red color as she whispered softly.

“May I?”

You smiled genuinely for the first time in years, nodding as you felt her warm breath caress the side of your face once more. God, you missed that feeling. Her arm circled the wide ends of your waist, pulling you tightly against her as she held you close under her watchful eye. It was simple. She’d never leave you again.

—

“Peruere..since when did you even get such a nice modern home like this? I’d die to live here.”

She breathed out a quiet laugh, tidying up an area quickly with her back turned to you as she stood in her nightly wear. “No need. You will be living here if you’d like, darling.” She glanced over her shoulder at your form splayed out on the mattress, comfortably hugging the pillow to your chest. It was evident that you’d never felt this safe or happy in quite some time. She put down the cup she was rearranging near an odd table in her room, seating herself on the bed as she motioned you to come closer. A light chuckle escaped her lips as you complied, shifting close into her arms comfortably as you basked in her warmth.

“What about my husband?”

“What about him?”

“Well- I am still married to him. I’m legally still stuck.”

Laying back, Arlecchino just exhaled in response, threading her slender fingers through your hair.

“I will get you out. Trust me. For now, just rest how I wanted us to. You have a lot of love you missed out on, and I’m here to help us catch up on that.”

You sighed peacefully against her at those words, curling up at her side as you nuzzled into her. For the first time, you could sleep peacefully with a weight beside you. This was all you had wanted. Safely enveloped in Arlecchino’s embrace, being able to bask in tranquility and solace with the woman you loved as you sought an escape from the cruel torment of your husband.

Perhaps it all worked out in the end.

No.

It did work out in the end, as you slumbered in your beloved’s arms.

A/N: HOLY SHIET THERES SO MUCH I WANNA SAY

first of all tysm for 1k followers I genuinely appreciate all the support and I hope my writing has improved over the course of the past year and a half or so!

Second guess who’s alive again yay but writing is a little rusty

Third I am in fact going thru a little internal struggle atm so if my works are a bit late or kinda ass bear with me please 😭‼️

Other than that ily all I love how the second half of this turned out and yeah 🕯️

I’m kinda cold ngl

[irishmammonagenda]

hiiii ! ^_^ I love your writing sm

I was listening to music just relax, and randomly I thought of MC with "You're loosing me" AND I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH SOMEONE. Especially from minute 3:00 to the end 😭😭😭😭 imagine a fic inspired in that song with a traumatized mc after their death 🥲

hiya!! i'm so glad 🫶🫶🫶🫶 tbh i dont really listen to taylor so i had to look up this one, but oml it kinda does fit MC sm???!!!

honestly tysm for the ask, i don't normally write seriousish fics so this was a fun change grma <3

ALSO IM SO SORRY THE TITLES SO CRINGE I COULDNT THINK OF A GOOD ONE

Surface Tension- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: MC died 😱 and reincarnated as a demon, only their death affected them more than they thought. Word Count: 2.8k+ Warnings: Mentions of Death, leans more into Lucifer x Reader, especially at the end. (i am so sorry abt that I had no idea where this fic was going myself tbh) Descriptions of drowning. Hurt/Comfort? I have no idea how to write trauma I am so sorry, (this isn't apart of my 'Death is a Debatable thing Au) dividers are a mixmatch of ones by @plum98 @isisjupiter and @cafekitsune bc im indecisive

The thing you missed most were your pact marks. Intricate designs etched into your skin, that shone the colours of the people you loved, a reminder you were someone. You had something. A security blanket of sorts. Now they were gone, clear glass sin, almost poreless, uncanny replaced the lines and marks and humans´ perfect imperfection that provided a canvas for the hues that you were sure had painted your heart.

It hurt.

You fiddle with your hands, trying to contain the urge to just...pop. The horns and the tail had been disorienting to get used to. You still preferred your 'human' form, the only issue was controlling it. It would come with time, or so everyone had told you.

They told you a lot of things would come with time. You weren't so hopeful.

"I....it's just-" you flick your gaze around the room, looking anywhere but the demon in there with you. "...the dying part..."

"The dyin' part..." Mammon sits by your side, ever your first man, his eyes gaze at you, so loving, so adoring, it hurts your heart. "I don't understand the dyin' MC....I couldn't never understand the dyin'...." He brings a hand to rest on yours hesitantly, his false bravado nowhere to be found.

"I know you don't Mams..." You meet his gaze, his eyes as blue as the sky on a summer's day, warmer than the sun, and softer than silk when he looks into yours.

"It doesn' mean I won't try te....understand...I mean." He clears is throat awkwardly. "There's nothin' I wouldn't do for ye...not now not ever."

Your heart feels heavy.

Rushing water beats against porcelain. Steam slowly rose in swirls as the bathtub filled up. You fold your towels and set them by the sink beside the clothes you had set out. Pulling the satin robe that was a gift from a certain Asmodeus, you placed it on one of the hooks on the door, before twisting the taps to a stop. You submerged yourself into the warm water, your tense muscles relaxing as you leaned backwards in the tub from where you were sitting, legs touching the bottom of the porcelain. 

It had been so long. 

So long since you were able to just relax like this. You loved the brothers and the others, but sometimes you needed the solitude of your own thoughts. That wasn’t to say Asmo’s self care nights weren’t relaxing. 

You sighed. 

The water enveloped you, you had leaned back enough to where your head had begun to submerge. All was well. The water was warm, your muscles slowly relaxed, along with the rest of your body. Your eyes slowly blinked closed. 

All was fine. Your relaxed muscles let your head fall back. All was well. Your ears were now submerged. All was fine. 

Except it wasn’t. A switch had flicked. Your eyes shot wide open. You could no longer feel the bottom of the porcelain bathtub, panic and dread tugged at your arteries, squeezing your jugular. You flailed and thrashed your limbs, your head dipped under for a millisecond. 

Clear water turned murky. 

Your arms burnt after another weak attempt, head breaking the stormy surface of the lough for a moment; only a moment. Hardly long enough to draw a breath. Your eyes stung. Your throat ached, desperation choked at your airways. 

You found yourself submerged again. The currents slammed into rocks. Your hair rose upwards, strands sticking to your face like some sort of seaweed, hindering your vision as the waves flung you against hard rock. Your hands clawed at the stone, too slippery to catch a grip. The stormy water slammed you against another rock. You broke the horrid surface of the water, gasping and spluttering. Your throat burned like sinners in the 7th circle of hell. You just barely gasped in a morsel of oxygen before being dragged under by the force of the waves. 

You were slammed mercilessly into another hard wall of stone, your attempts at clawing for a grip so desperate you drew blood at your fingertips. 

You had survived demons, witches, angels. You had survived hell. Yet earth would be the one to take you out, so it seemed. You couldn’t hold your breath any longer, your mouth opened. You inhaled desperately, lungs aching for air. Water filled them instead. 

You gasped and spluttered. The surface of the water too rough to do a dead man’s float without risking your life further. The waves smacked you against hard rock once more, eroding at your hopes for survival. 

This was it. 

You were going to die. You’re drowning. You’ve drowned. 

The last thing you felt before you succumbed to the wild waves was the dull glow of your pact marks. With the last of your strength, you let out a silent scream, submerged by the water. 

You screamed. Frenzied hands pull your sobbing form out of the clear water of the bath pulling your soaked, sobbing form to their chest. You gasp for air, lungs burning. 

“MC! Y-you’re fine! Don’t worry…you’re okay…you’re okay…!” An uncharacteristically frenzied Beel holds you to his chest, massive arms enveloping you, he cards a gentle hand through your hair as you sob and upheave, your chest tight and your breath running from you. “You’re okay MC….follow my breathing…”

Hardly hearing him, you comply either way. Matching the breaths of the sixth born, your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing begins to even. Eventually, you sit wrapped in the arms of the Avatar of Gluttony, breathing deeply and slowly, your heart rate slowed, your sobs quitened to the occasional sniffle, the tightness in your chest remains. 

You chuckle humourlessly. “I’m sorry Beel….got your clothes all wet.” 

Beel shakes his head seriously, eyes on yours. “It’s never a problem. Not if it’s you MC.” He stands up with you still in his arms. Carefully, the redhead sets you down on your two feet. Strong hands on either side of you, a stabliser. “C’mon…let’s get you dressed MC…can you stand?”

Slowly you nod.

That night you found yourself in the living room, Belphie asleep, head on your shoulder. Mammon splayed across your lap, Asmo’s arm around your waist, Beel was on the other side of his twin, but held your hand, rubbing soothing circles subconsciously into your palm. Levi sat on the ground, switch in hand, cheek leaning against your thigh.  Satan and Lucifer sat on the nearest armchairs though they sat facing opposite each other, Lucifer half reading official documents, half watching the show his brothers and little human demon were watching, Satan doing the exact same, except his reading material was a book. 

You weren't sure how or if they knew what had happened an hour prior, but you were sure they knew this would cheer you up in some capacity.

You squeezed Beel’s hand, the knot in your chest coming undone just enough you feel light.

The transition from Human to Demon was a hard one to get used to, one thing that hadn't changed however; were the balls hosted by Lord Diavolo. The only difference being that now you sported curved horns on the top of your head. You quickly found that Asmo liked to decorate them with little trinkets.

Which he had done today, as well as helping you pick out your outfit for the ball. You gave a twirl in one of his full length mirrors.

"Thanks Asmo I love it." You smile, messing with an ornament on your horn. Those are taking a while to get used to.

Asmodeus laughs gleefully, waving his hand. "It was nothing darling. I'd love to do it again! Oh...~ You look so gorgeous...." He says dreamily before he turns back to his makeup, carefully lining his lips in a dark pink.

You blush at the praise before leaving the room, not wanting to risk being (fashionably) late.

"MC!" Lord Diavolo greets cheerfully, pulling you in for a hug against his bare, tanned chest. The gold in his eyes and horns glow like fire in the light of the ballroom. "I'm so glad you could make it! You look stunning!" He laughs, strong arms wrapping tighter around you.

You smile, "I'm glad to be here, Dia."

"I'm glad..." He says softer now. If the both of your words were an innuendo, neither of you pointed it out.

Barbatos appears silently at the left hand side of the Demon Prince, shaking your hand, you give him a sweet smile.

You barely get to greet him before the Demon Butler swiftly makes his way across the ballroom, and out of the glazed, oak door that led to a short corridor and then led to the kitchens.

After more peasant conversation with Diavolo, another Demon Noble had arrived, the scarlet haired prince pouted at the thought of leaving you before waving and making his way towards one of Hell's Aristocrats.

You wave him goodbye, you scan the Ballroom, eyes locking with violet ones. The seventh born gives a small smirk, lazily making his way toward you.

Belphegor had seen your dreams. He had felt the water pool into your lungs, the air escaping your grasp, the harsh bruising of the rocks you were slammed into.

He saw every dream, tried to stop them from reaching you. Sometimes he failed, your mind wanted to return to that moment. To pick it apart, to relive what it didn't understand itself, to find an impossible answer.

Sometimes your mind, your wonderful, horribly beautiful mind; would be too adamant, would loop back to it.

He didn't protect you. Not when he first betrayed you, not when he crushed your bones in his grip.

He couldn't protect you. Not when you were flung from rock to rock, sharp edges digging into fragile skin. Not when water burnt through your throat like fire.

He couldn't protect you. Not when your dreams bypassed his control. Not when the thin threads of your trauma induced nightmares slipped through the cracks.

The Avatar of Sloth could only do so much, yet, it never felt like enough. He couldn't protect you.

"Hey Belph!" You grin, closing the distance between the two of you. "You seem distracted, whats up?"

Belphegor snaps out of it, lips upturning. "Oh nothing, I just thought of something for the Anti-Lucifer League....What about you, MC, enjoying yourself?"

"For the most part yeah! But I haven't seen Mammon anywhere...." You say thoughtfully before deadpanning. "He's going to be strung up upside down by tomorrow morning, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Hours passed, a sleeping Belphegor had been handed over to Beelzebub, who was currently carrying his twin home. You were tempted to ask to join, but decided against it.

You weren't made of glass, you had agency. You could handle a silly ball.

Standing in one of the corners, beverage in hand, you'd elected to just people watch for a while.

Levi sat semi-hidden by a curtain at the grand window, switch in hand, noise cancelling headphones in, no doubt reaching the end of his social battery.

Satan stood at the other side of the Grand Hall, talking with contacts and connections you couldn't recognise. Golden blond hair perfectly in place. Asmo must've fixed it up for him.

Speaking of Asmo, he was on the dance floor with various succubi, giggling, smiling, and just in general being a social butterfly.

Mammon however, was still no where to be seen. Probably looking for treasure. Classic Mams. You smile to yourself.

Lucifer stood, being entertained by admirorers of all shapes and sizes. You stiffened.

Sometimes you forgot the brothers were Hell's Most Eligible Bachelors. It was easy to forget, seeing as you lived with them, and they were all idiots.

You could feel Levi's worried eyes on you none the less. Your stomach twisted with his sin, orange as a yolk, what came first? the chicken or the egg? You didn’t know nor did you care. Why would Lucifer choose you anyway? A weak human demon who couldn’t even survive a…-

You gripped your drink tightly, knuckles lightening. You took a sip, but with your tense muscles, the liquid burnt its way down the wrong side of your throat.

You spluttered.

Even the droplet. Even the sip. It grew, multiplied even, filling your lungs like goop, you gasped for air. The ballroom flooded a murky green. Stumbling, you pushed through the oak door to the hallway, where it was quieter.

Your heart beat out of your chest, your breathing was laboured, leaning against the wall, you lost your boyancy, dripping down until you sat on the ground, knees to your chest.

You stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath, engaging your senses.

Three things you could hear;

Idle chatter from the ballroom, completely muffled by the heavy wooden door and stone walls. Your own laboured breathing, although it was catching up to you. The blood rushing in your ears, evaporating from a rapid raging river to a small sparkling stream.

Three things you could see;

The stone wall, dark liath limestone blocks and bricks melded together, midievil in their design, they reflected the light of the overheard torches in a subtle, orange glow. The glazed panes of a glass window, the moon shone bright tonight, as it always did in the Devildom. You liked to think it was watching over you. Maybe it was.

If you turnt your head to the left, an archway was visible, a simple one. It dug into the stone wall and ceiling, pushing against the internal structures, standing out whilst holding together.

You continued your listing, smell and taste were ruled out, on account of you not being able to taste, and there not being any real noticable smells.

Three things you could feel;

The fabric of the clothes Asmo chose for you streched on your skin, the seams digging into your thighs where you sat on the ground.

The stone floor, hard and cold, even with the layers you had on, you shivered ever so slightly.

And lastly, you could feel the phantom ache of pact marks long faded, your heart heart, though it had stopped beating out of your chest. You felt calmer, more in control, yet still;

You sniffled.

After all; you didn’t have the best track record for keeping your head above water.

That’s how Lucifer found you. The door hissing open and his signature boots clacking softly along the ground announced his presence.

“MC, my love, are you alright?” He raises an eyebrow, The Avatar if Pride putting his aside and hunkering down so that he was more or less eye level with you, concern pooled in his expression. He reached a gloved hand out and caressed your cheek.

You nod, croaking out an "I'm okay now..."

"Are you sure, my darling?" The first born looks into your tired eyes, before tilting his head, asking for permission. You grant it.

He pulls you in for a hug.

"What upset you, dove?" He asks softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I-...I just feel like I've...like I've lost you all...and myself I guess...It sounds stupid! I know...but I just...-"

Lucifer hushes you, "Nothing you could say could ever sound stupid. He pauses. "Unless you're with Mammon...or planning something with Satan and Belphie."

That squeezes a giggle out of you. He smiles, tilting his head, a strand of raven hair falling ever so out of place at the movement, crimson eyes stare into yours.

"But that's not all, is it, dear?"

You mumble something unintelligible, but count on Lucifer Morningstar to hear it. "Have I told you yet? That you look absolutely gorgeous tonight, MC?" He asks in all seriousness. You avert your gaze.

He grabs your chin softly, "I'm serious, Darling. You're the best person at this ball, the best thing that has ever happened to my brothers...to me. Sometimes I feel you truly don't realise that...seems I must take care to remind you more often, my love."

You try to speak, but the air swallows up your words, your mouth open and gaping like a fish.

Lucifer's lips quirk up, he pulls you closer to his chest. You lean into him, giving a weak smile, ear pressed against his breast, listening to his heartbeat.

You felt calm; content even,

T he hug wasn't a fix it all. It wasn't some magic wand that had been waved, you weren't suddenly better. You were still traumatised, that emptiness, though dull, still ached in your heart, along with the places on your body the bright beautiful symbols of your pacts had been sketched onto your skin.

The hug was comforting none-the-less. Lucifer was impossibly gentle. He would cradle the ashes until you built yourself back up again in his arms, phoenixes need time to adjust before they can spread their wings, after all.

It would be hard. It would be so so difficult, so taxing, to rise from the ashes once more, to thrive again, but you had an army of idiots that loved you, who would go to the ends of the earth just to see you smile. It wasn't okay yet, you weren't 'fixed', you wouldn't be for a long time but you had years upon years, decades upon decades, centuries upon centuries.

i physically cannot write anything overly angsty bc im a wee softie smh this took me ages i am so sorry abt that </3 also i had another ask that i started planning out halfway through writing this and the contrast in the tone i was going for is so funny🧍‍♂️

[july-19th-club]

everybody in the goodreads one-stars dislikes outlander because it's got too much rape and dubcon in it, which is fair and is in fact what turned me off of the show in college. but many of them dont like the sex in this book in a puritanical way and they're WRONG it's not bad because it's sex! it's not even necessarily bad because it's sexualized violence. it's bad because it's poorly contextualized, not justified by the text enough to bear as much repetition as it gets, and neither fits nor deconstructs the genre it's trying to play around with.

like, the marriage/sex/punishment-by-force fantasy is clearly a fetish of gabaldon's, so the book bends over backwards to present opportunities for it whether they make story sense or not, and in so doing gives readers a skewed understanding of the period and location it's simultaneously attempting to do historical fiction in. WHICH WOULD BE FINE IF: this was georgette heyer we were talking about, por ejemplo, and the whole scene was established as the kind of pseudo-history fantasy realm such fetishes often take place in. after all, there's a particular brand of time-tested romance fiction where the whole conceit is a fluttery but undeniable "but you don't understand - i had no other choice!" which allows our heroine the chance to indulge sexually without being considered a slut (see dan lavery's piece on this subject). which i think is what gabaldon's trying to do with the plot contortions that require claire to get married, and then REQUIRE their marriage to be consummated With Witnesses, and then REQUIRE him to beat her in order to maintain standing...etc, etc, etc. a good british woman doesn't want to commit adultery, a good british woman doesn't like it rough, a good british woman doesn't get off on humiliation, etc. which, described that way, almost talks me back into the whole idea.

except the description i just gave is not how it reads in the book. in the book there's no indication that she's performing mental gymnastics to get past her hangups, or that there's some underlying Understanding between characters, author, and reader. it reads like she's married a budding young abuser who claims 'this is normal here' to get what he wants. WHICH brings us to the whole 'savage man-beast...but i WANT him...but he's so violent! but i can TAME him' trope. it's only this side of racist here because the scottish people in this book are white. this man can't be expected to have respectful attitudes, those are modern. and he's from a strong, manly culture! and there's no use looking around for some other kind of guy, because everybody's like that here, and that's history, man. there's a scene in this book where her tarzan in tartan believes that all sex is doggie style and is shocked to learn it isn't. this scene made it into the show.

what im trying to say is. she's both trying to write serious hist fic AND trying to have the protagonist get raped every other page so as to justify the amount of sex in the book. like...i feel insane saying she's doing it wrong when i read carey with gusto, but again, there we are in the 'context' issue. carey's context is that the protagonist is a) a professional sex worker and b) a confirmed masochist, so it's no shock to the reader when she goes to have sex with a patron and he lays into her with a flail. people who don't want BDSM aren't going to be reading Jacqueline Carey. she even has goddamn safewords, for chrissake. and while it absolutely can be argued that the absence of a declared scene in-text IS part of the fantasy for some readers - and must be for at least a few of the outlander fanbase, since people think these books are sexy - there's just too much failure to commit. either claire is into it or she's not, either this is a wish fulfillment kink book or it's hist fic. a better writer might be able to thread that needle in such a way as to keep it both sexy and consistent, but gabaldon's not that writer. her fetishes come off uncomfortably; her details are sometimes wrong enough that even not very historically minded readers point them out and find themselves jarred out of the story.

and...worst of all? she's not at all interested in the time travel aspect of her book, which may not seem like the worst sin here, but let me go out by tying this into its origins. she based the books on doctor who, a show about travel through time and space. rarely do her 1740s characters make it to the 1940s, where the story starts - she doesn't care about the nineteen forties, or later the sixties, after the time skip. they are where stodgy frank is from. they are where claire is exiled after she's torn away from her highland lover! she doesn't care about this timeline except insofar as they constitute a Modern place (but not too modern!) to act as a bland counterweight to the pull of those glorious days of old. the interplay of timelines is never really about culture shock or culture sharing, never really about what it would be like to survive culloden and then find out about the nineteen sixties. not in a funny, lighthearted way; not in a serious, all-implications-delved-into way. in diana gabaldon's time travel, the twentieth century is only there to get away from, to leave for some imagined romantic past where men are real men, women are real women, and small furry creatures from alpha centauri - except, wait. we don't know, do we, if the small furry creatures from alpha centauri are real small furry creatures from alpha centauri. in diana gabaldon's story, the scottish guy doesn't even go anywhere near alpha centaurai. truly there's no fixing this one.

[just-some-random-blogger]

HII gorgeous 👋👋 I wanted to say I love your writing and honestly your brilliant mind gracing us with all of your stories 🤩 with that being said my birthday is in a week— eeekk 21 BITCHHH 😛😛😈 and I wanted to request a HOTD cast imagine since I’m pretty sure they’ll start filming soon, so imagine maybe a raging birthday party just before filming or something and it gets crazyyy and wild and wouldn’t it be great to get sloshed with Emma D’Arcy 😃 doing this would be a pretty rocking birthday present soo… not to put pressure… 👀👀🤭

(Also I’m the star points bitch. So keep that in mind hon 🔍🔍 this is your redemption arc)

Sloshed 🥴

HoTD Cast & Reader (there's a paring here somewhere if you quint hard enough)

Summary: To celebrate your birthday, your castmates in HotD throw you a makeshift party with a karaoke machine, a poorly homemade cake, and lots and lots of alcohol.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, drinking/drunkenness/everyone gets cronked, super chaotic everything, grade school bullying (affectionate), crack fic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY START POINTS NONNIE! (im not going to call you bitch because i dont like that word) im sure at this point youre prolly 22 T_T but better late than never. also Omg my child 😭 you think i give a shit about redemption??? HAHAHAAH IT MAKES ME WANT TO FUCK THIS UP SO BAD but the request is so compelling that i'll silence the part of my brain that is screaming for murder HAHAHA idk it all kinda went all over the place but lol enjoy star points nonnie! or dont i dont care Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

You had your phone on, eye level, recording, flashlight and all, so did Milly. You were both snorting to yourselves as you made your way through the streets-

"WHERE THE STREETS HAVE NO NAME!" you sing, flailing your arms around as you spun on the pavement.

No, no, you weren't drunk yet. But boy were you were excited to be.

Milly had picked you up and, like an idiot, spoiled the surprise party altogether by being too giddy and blabbermouthed. It was obvious she was leading you to a 'secret birthday party' and though Milly adamantly denied to her final breath, when you got to the venue, still somehow startled by the loud scream of 'SURPRISE HAPPY BIRTHDAY!', Emma gave her a piece of their mind for being so obvious.

You immediately hugged the gals, namely Olivia, Emily, and Phia, then after gave a kiss to person who remembered your birthday at all, Emma.

"I love you so much," you muttered as you pulled them into a hug, nearly choking them in the process. Emma chuckles, sealing their arms around you with a lot less enthusiasm, only cause in you were a python comparison.

They turn to Milly, who was already heading for the food, "did you two drink already?"

"No, babe, we're drunk on life!" Milly responds, pouring herself a drink.

Emma and Olivia turn to each other, the latter rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, "dear god, to be twen'y somthin'."

Emma snorts as you finally pull away from them.

You spin your arm overhead, stupidly forgetting you had your phone in hand. This allows it to get darted across the room, nearly hitting Phia on the way.

You scramble for the object, amazed that it was uncracked and still in one piece, camera still filming everything. You look up to everyone and call out, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"

Each person in the room cheers and claps for you, immediately getting ready for the festivities.

At one point, you managed to end and restart recording on your phone as you eat some chips and ready the second song on a karaoke machine, and by karaoke machine, I mean a big-ish laptop propped on an box on a table connected to a Bluetooth speaker that was honestly impressively loud for its size.

It was also at this time, the MIA boys finally arrived, as in Fabien, Tom, Ewan, & Matt, carrying fast food and drinks, cheering as they came for absolutely no other reason than to be loud.

Now. Now, the party was really getting started.

After eating and the singing got old, an idea was proposed. You don't know whose genius (stupid) idea it was to play fucking marco polo, but DAMN was it intense.

You down the last for your 3rd(?) beer before running off as the it of the game neared you. You find yourself in a corner where Matt now to your right. You do your darndness to evade the blind folded Tom, who by the ways was insanely horrible at the game.

He was so bad, Olivia, like the mom she was, had to keep reminding him he could call out Marco, so that you lot could call out Polo and give some semblance as to where you were in the Emma's largish flat.

"Babes," Olivia calls, beginning to remind the lost puppy, Tom.

Elbow pushing the massive block of doofus (Matt), who was CHEATING by using you as his shield from the nearing lost, blonde boy, you struggled against the man, both of you fairing horribly to hold in your giggles as you push deeper into the corner of the room, trapped behind the sofa.

Tom turns behind him, blindfold on and all, at the sound of Olivia's voice.

"You can call out Marco," Olivia reminds before going back to a conversation with Phia safely a distance away in the kitchen.

"Oh-right- MARCO!"

"POLO!" everyone screams except you and Matt.

"THEY'RE CHEATING!" Fabien calls loudly in protests from behind the dining table, "TOM, TURN AROUND! TOM, TURN AROUND!"

Fabien's plan backfires as Tom instead heads for him. The former runs over to where Ewan was, who then runs over to where Emily was, by the front door.

"POLO YOU CUNTS!" Fabien shouts with a chuckle, extending his arm out to your direction, accusingly.

You stick out your tongue to Fabien as Matt begins to shove you the opposite direction.

Ewan to Fabien's side drops his jaw over the brunutte's backfired attempt in both a 'STFU' manner and 'this is kind of funny but STFU' manner, then slaps his hand on Fabian's blabbermouth.

Tom was nearing them. Emily begins to push back against Ewan, covering her mouth as not to make a sound. This allowed you to climb from the back of the sofa, onto the cushions, escaping the entrapment in the corner with Matt.

Emily topples onto Ewan and holds her breath as she barely dodges Tom's reaching hands.

And then-

"POLO! POLO! POLOLOLOL!" Matt screams, grabbing you by the shoulders, alerting everyone in the room.

Tom takes the bait, turning about as you squeal and wrangle out of Matt's cheating grip.

Emily, Ewan, and Fabien sneakily evade him whilst Tom is distracted.

"MATT YOU FUCKER!" you whine, finally escaping him. You swiftly run past Tom, who almost managed to grab you and make it towards Emma, who was had been sitting in an isolated corner of their flat, drinking a can of pop.

They give you a nod and you look over finding Tom was approaching the corner where you and Matt had been, yet the man was nowhere in sight. Rats, he was good.

Fabien, running towards you out of nowhere, grabs you by your arms and offers you as a sacrifice, "POLO! POLO!"

Tom turns your direction as you shriek.

"YOU CHEATING RAT!" you protest mid arm imprisonment.

Tom, now at his limit, stops then pulls down his blindfold, making everyone groan. The man, who had been it the WHOLE time you have been playing, sighs and places his hands on his hips, "guys, ain't no way I'm this bad at Marco Polo. You lot are double crossing me!"

Everyone gathers over towards Tom in a chorus of laughs and disagreements.

Olivia speaks, "I'm sorry, love, but honestly, this flat isn't that large."

"You just suck," Phia deadpans, making Tom give him a sour look.

Milly crawls from underneath the table she had been hiding from the entire time, "who's it now?

Milly jolts when Matt sneaks up from behind her and screams, "YOU!" The moron evades Milly's incoming punches.

Meanwhile, you have been chasing Fabien across the room, pulling on his hair when you catch him.

Between that point and when you all (mostly you and Milly) began to cry while singing Hello by Adele, another 3(?) bottles of beer was consumed by your person.

This was why when you reached for another bottle, Ewan (who had been watching you the entire time) took the thing from you, "that's mine."

You blink slowly, turning to him as he takes the bottle from you, handing it to Matt, who was cheering Emma and Olivia on as they sung from the top of their lungs. Matt turns to Ewan, taking the bottle from him, "thanks, babe."

You move to take another bottle, and Ewan grabs it again, "that's also mine." This time, he takes a swig of the alcohol when you turn to him.

You grunt, taking another shot at grabbing one of the last two bottles on the table. Before you could even reach out for it though, Tom grabs the two bottles and you watch as he hands the other to Fabien. They clank it together, then sit next to you, unwittingly triggering your tear ducts.

They were so mean. You flat out begin to sob. Each man on the sofa turns to you.

"It's my birthday!" you whine under your breath, tears streaming your face, "I'm being oppressed."

Tom beside you hears your mewls then panics, "hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Ewan ,on you other side, stiffens turning to you, face falling at the sight of your tears.

You choke on your tears as you whine.

"MATT YOU'VE REALLY DONE IT NOW MATE!" Fabien screams after seeing you.

Matt turns to you, as does the singing Emma and Olivia, as well as Phia who was doing background vocals and Emily and Milly who was recording the whole thing.

"Me?!" Matt calls out with a chuckle, "what did I do," he leans towards you, "what's happened, love?"

You ignore them as Emma makes a beeline for you and grabs your hand, "come on babe, boys suck."

Ewan begins to explain the situation to everyone and Fabien calls out, "you want my beer, baby?"

"FUCK YOU FABIEN!"

"What about my beer?" Tom asks.

"S'fine," you mumble as you get in front of the make shift karaoke machine where Olivia then wraps her arms over your shoulders.

"Hey! Why the hostility!" Fabien calls out.

"Because you're ugly mate," Tom sneers, chuckling before he drinks his beer.

Matt says, giggling, "I mean you did make the birthday baby cry."

Fabien's jaw drops, "yeah, yeah, yeah, says the man with no eyebrows."

Tom hollers, throwing his head back in laughter. Ewan snorts under his breath, holding in his laughter.

"Woah, woah, woah," Milly walks over with a camera, "is there a row goin' on 'ere," she points her phone camera to them, "come on," she says in a thick Australian accent, "have at it!"

Fabien exaggeratedly bites his lower lip and flips Milly's cam off.

Meanwhile Phia and Emily are cheering you on as the next song begins to play. The intro has everyone in a frenzy.

You burp as you croak out the first lines of the song, "buHaybe can't you see-- I'm callin'. A guy like you should have a warning, it's dangerous-"

"IM FALLING!" you lot sing out in various keys.

Absolutely feeling yourself with the music, you begin to dance to Britney Spears, doing body rolls against Emma and Olivia.

By the time the chorus hits, you and the girls are dancing and singing to Toxic. You twirl all the way over to the sofa, nearly falling on your way as you tell the yucky boys to join in the festivities.

Yet all it takes is one loud bang on the door to burst everyone's bubble.

"Oh fuck," Emma calls, turning frantically around everyone, shushing them as Emily scrambles to cut the music.

Blissfully unaware of everything, you clumsily continue to dance and hit not one, but two faces (Ewan and Matt's) with your hands.

"Alright, Britney, that's enough of you," Fabien calls, pulling you away from your accidental victims of violence.

"There's something to be said about the fact both of your chins were hit," Milly says under her breath, but both men she was teasing hear her loud and clear, in fact, everyone hears her, which is why Tom wheeze with Phia as Olivia holds back her laughter.

"Oh fuck off," Matt says as Ewan purses his lips and shakes his head.

"At least I can reach the bars in the tube," Ewan rebuts.

"OH! For the jugular!" Emily calls just as Olivia hushes everyone.

Emma comes back with clenched teeth, turning to you, "right, uh... my neighbors say happy birthday, also, shut the fuck up."

[alexanderlightweight]

@faejilly

thank you!!! i have been dying to flail about a fic! and fic and @saeths is asleep and needs rest cause they're sick.

okay so it's a bit funny but this fic is one of my longest wips and still doesn't have a name but basically magnus accidentally woos kelpie!alec (half seelie/half shadowhunter sad backstory blahblahblah) who is very just. he's very impressed by Magnus' everything okay.

also saeth finds it really funny that in some of my darkest fics i focus the most on how good of a friendship magnus and cat and ragnor have. and so i just... half of the fic is now ragnor and cat and magnus and then figuring out the addition of alec to their party because while magnus will hangout with them without alec, he wants alec to be apart of it since its so important to him.

uhm there is quite a bit of murder in this fic. like magnus goes and kills a bunch of people he's slept with to get them out of the way because of a misunderstanding and cat and ragnor have absolutely no fucks to give with it. cat is literally just like, 'i need at least eight hours of sleep and a massage after this' because she loves her boys to pieces. and alec eats people in a none hannibal way its much messier.

... maybe i should have thought about what fic i wanted to share before begging for interaction. you dont have to read further if its not your cuppa tea, i can totally rant about a less dark fic

and saeth is part of alxndrlghtwoods and writes amazing stuff like dominion magic and they have a fic called 'take me for a ride' and so that fic has pretty heavily influenced the vibe of this magnus. except we see a lot of behind the scenes where he's with his friends, not just alec.

and magnus is very much a terrifying traumatizing person, but he's still the same immensely powerful person that ragnor had to douse with tea when he was learning to be hungover. and who ragnor chased around for 'bringing that disgusting tar into my house' when he tried to get ragnor to try coffee.

and he's still the person that ragnor held as he and cat pieced together magnus' heart so that not another single soul could ever hurt him like camille tried to. magnus lost any softness he did after camille and there is a very specific reason he opens himself up to alec in this fic and it's quite literally because of an accident.

like magnus wasn't hurt by camille in the same way as canon. what hurt him the most was that 'to him at the time' he was weak enough to almost be hurt by her. and that was worse. magnus doesn't do friends outside of cat and ragnor. and he doesnt do relationships.

alec very much has his own goals for the entire fic, as does magnus and their goals reach the same endgame? so even they go about different ways of getting there, it's fine? and magnus puts a magical pond on the roof so alec can still enjoy water and the first time magnus dips his toes in, he almost loses a couple because alec has an automatic reaction.

magnus: ... you could have said if you were that hungry

alec: magnus. you put body parts in water. it's a conditioned reflex at this point. i didn't realize they were attached to you.

magnus: my toes alexander! i just painted them

its a very morally grey fic because you have two very-nonhuman sets of instincts and quiet misunderstandings (no angst in the misunderstandings though) and a lot of brunch with the trio.

brunch is any meal that is with the three of them. if someone else tries to argue about it, they either die, or magnus mockingly takes them to where it is still brunch. Magnus has lost several dates this way.

He lost them on purpose. they were never found.

brunch is a vibe, not a time. yes, they frequently plot out mass casualties and murder over scones and lemon curd and cat's favorite of strawberry crepes and papaya with lime juice. ragnor still prefers kippers and toast. even if he has finally upgraded to the 'fancy' version. and magnus cycles through favorites but always has a very specific tea that he imports from where he was born.

magnus and alec have a very intense predator/prey but also with greater predator/smaller predator in that Alec is very willingly submitting to magnus and they both know that. because he is also incredibly dangerous and powerful. magnus very much does not want to deal with an upset alexander, he's seen how powerful his teeth are okay.

oh something that i love in this fic is alec gets most of his power from the small lake pocket dimension that he lives in. because it's created a self-sustaining cycle that balanced on alec being a big enough predator to protect the lake until natural magical defenses could shore up. it's pretty much a magical leyline and alec got anchored to/by it in the way of natural dominion magic. so he's not a king like magnus, he doesn't have a magical sovereign, he's just the sole guardian and sentinel for a, think of it kind of like those self-sustaining eco-systems but magical.

because i love magical realism and i love exploring into all the nooks and crannies that the showrunners never bothered to explore. like there is an entire different world of bugs and insects and flora and fauna and reptiles and animals and even canon!alec is more likely to know about magical creatures than mundane.

and magnus is super thrilled when they finally go back to alec's lake because hidden under a very clever array, is the fact that the entire lake is brimming with magical plants and magnus can very carefully and protectively cultivate some without harming the ecosystem, damaging the plants, hurting the environment. like magnus is mostly going to take a few cuttings from where alec needs to weed anyway.

alec is like: these are all trash, you can have them

magnus: darling, these are the magical equivalent of saffron

alec: yeah i don't know what that is either, do you want them? or ill feed them to the lily pod fairies.

alec knows they're important to the lake but he also can tell when the plants are getting too greedy and so he kind of tends to the lake very carefully. sometimes he uses a plant or another for its use, but he's very happy to just take care of the plants and only take them when necessary for himself or the lake health.

saeth likes calling my fics 'cute' and 'soft' even when they have like, mass murder and cannibalism and it's kind of funny because i do get it. i really love writing darkly and horrifically soft malec. it's the jam and butter to my bread. its good with only one, but better with both.

uh and if you managed to make it through that long winded smash of keys, here is a snippet from one such murderous brunch

—

Cat accepts a cup of tea with a small smile as Magnus laughs and Ragnor’s scolding gets increasingly louder.

“They were a perfectly lovely invention!” Ragnor is saying. “They should never have gone out of fashion!”

He’s said the same thing three times. Increasingly louder, as if it will eventually shut Magnus up. 

Cat sips her —perfect as always— tea and summons a box of biscuits.

Normally Ragnor offers them himself, but Cat will allow the discrepancy. They did find him quite indisposed.

Magnus is still laughing, holding his belly as though it might burst as he slumps into one of Ragnor’s large armchairs.

Ragnor seems to have given up and is grumpily sipping his own tea as he gives Magnus a snotty look.

When Magnus has finally, finally stopped laughing, Cat gives a silent sigh of relief.

And then Ragnor opens his mouth, dooming them all.

“If you must know.” He says with an aggrieved sniff, “it helps keep my horns from rubbing against the headboard. It’s quite annoying to have to polish them so often. Valois mentioned they were looking a little worn at the last gathering.”

And Magnus loses it again.

Ragnor had been napping on an armchair when they’d portaled in. Small round glasses perched on his snoring nose, a long flowing nightgown and a nightcap that hasn’t been used in several hundred years. 

It was only several lifetimes spent practicing self control that ensured Cat didn’t burst into laughter herself. 

She makes a note to order and send several bonnets to Ragnor, they’re much nicer than the undoubtedly musty nightcap Ragnor probably dug out of a moth-infested dresser in some half-abandoned cottage he forgot about.

Ragnor huffs and gulps half of his cup before Cat has pity and offers him a digestive. 

“The cheek on this lad.” Ragnor grumbles, “and what kind of present is this! At least it was well taken care of in that witch Selene’s library. If not tragically undervalued, so why is there blood on my bloody book?”

Magnus is going to give himself a hernia at this rate and Cat is both off duty and not inclined to be nice so she sends him a little zap and gives Ragnor the most mischievous smile she can.

Ragnor immediately catches on and good humor replaces his glower.

“Oh? What’s this? Cat, love! Don’t hold out on me. What’s ducky done now?”

“Guess who has to do a little spring cleaning, because he accidentally courted an un-declared kelpie.” Cat says in a rush, fingers snapping her biscuit in her eagerness to share.

Magnus gives a mock groan, “yes yes, laugh at my hubris. But trust me, a little bit of cleanup is well worth my Alexander.”

Magnus has one of his arms flung over his eyes and doesn’t see the quick, tight look Ragnor shares with Cat. Nor the brief joy when Cat simply smiles and nods, giving her assurance that Ragnor won’t need to make too many contingencies.

“And what does this time of new life and purging entail?” Ragnor asks and this time it’s Cat who laughs as Magnus gives them both a sheepish smirk.

“Ah, Alexander may be under the impression that I have been courting him… exclusively.” Magnus winces, “For the last four decades.”

Ragnor fights desperately not to gawp, and to not ruin his tea with incredulous laughter. 

And then he realizes the problem and his laughter fades.

“But you didn’t know.”

Magnus shakes his head, something bitter and angry in his eyes that Ragnor will worry over later. 

With sherry and Cat as backup. 

“That’s quite a bit of cleanup.” Ragnor murmurs quietly. Because Magnus takes fidelity seriously when it’s offered, “better take it to the last five decades, just to be safe. Don’t forget that orgy you told me about, the one in Dubai that you talked about for weeks in the 70’s. Don’t just do memory wipes, make it clean.” 

Magnus nods and Cat sighs despairingly as he summons a notebook and jots it down. 

“My, dear overachieving boys. Magnus should just use a ritual. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly. So we need to be thorough. We’ll have to add some element of a geas to the secret, Magnus can use one of his loose ends to power it. We can’t just murder all of them outright, it’s too conspicuous. Are there any spells that the Council needs done that require past lovers?” Cat looks at both of them sternly, “see how much we can brush under the Council’s cauldron and go from there.” 

“There, there ducky.” Ragnor tuts and sends over a cup and saucer to a groaning Magnus. “There’s not as many as you think. It’s a much smaller mess than if this happened when you were younger and off sowing your oats.”

‘Sowing my oats?’ Magnus mouths incredulously across his cup at Cat and she bites her lip to hide a chuckle. 

“Ah and Camille will need to finally be dealt with.” Ragnor says, so very obvious in how hard he’s trying to be nonchalant. Ragnor is always looking for a reason Magnus can accept and Cat is always hoping it works.

And for once, Magnus doesn’t even notice. 

“You know what, you’re right.” And Ragnor’s gaze snaps to Magnus with a relieved but disbelieving look as Magnus continues.

“She would definitely use any opportunity to get between us.” Magnus looks angry now, instead of the bitter pain that Camille normally brings out. “Putting a geas on her and sealing her won’t be enough.” And then Magnus pauses and there’s a dangerous, confident gleam to his eyes that Cat has mourned the lack of.

“Alexander does look divine in jewelry, and after everything he’s made for me, I should return the gesture. So I’ll need to commission him some.” And Magnus gives a soft, pleased smile. Like some deep wound has finally been healed, “and I have always wondered what the color of Camille’s soul is.”

Ragnor gives a content, pleased smile and nods sharply. “If need be we’ll say you’re cleaning up your court. Camille is a perfect and public example of a traitor being dealt with. There’s always an enemy if you look hard enough.”

[eversplode]

hello rain world tumblr. in my rain world fic, Taking the High Road, i accidentally created a conlang for scavengers. whoopsie.

that is not what im here to discuss, however. see, as a story about a slugcat and a scavenger traveling together, it was inevitable that the slugcat would start trying to learn 'scavengese.'

so i decided "scavs are basically humans so they can make all the sounds humans can, but scugs are like. cats. so they probably cant make all the sounds. how do i do that."

after about 20 seconds of consideration, i decided to try pronouncing my scavengese words without using my tongue, and just writing the sound that i made. it was quick, it was easy, and hey, it definitely wouldn't come up much (lie).

an innocent comment on my fic asking "hey how do you decide what scugs can and cant say" has sent my into a shower thought-fueled speculative biology session to retroactively justify my decisions. so, i'm gonna put that here, because someone will probably find it as interesting as me. anyway.

(tl;dr, click here for some speculative biology on how slugcat language works)

so, let us start with the basis for scug language, which is two facts: one, scugs are, at their core, moist cats which have evolved to the point of developing culture and language, and two, they go "wawawa." why do they go wawawa? because the entire community agreed on it and also I Said So. so how do we build a language around this?

so as we all know, cat language isn't language as we understand it. cats don't use words, they use stuff like purring and hissing and non-verbal cues. so, if cats suddenly constructed their own society like it was a Thing To Do, their language would probably involve those same things. so basically, natural slugcat language involves mostly non-verbal cues and sounds that humans cant make.

so now we come to the second part: why does rivulet go "wawawa" when they "talk" with moon?

well, my theory is that scugs have very immobile tongues and no teeth. bear with me here.

slugs, yknow, the base of slugcats other than cats, dont have tongues. they have a thing called a radula, which as far as i can tell, is basically a tonguelike thing covered in very small teeth. now, correct me if im wrong, but you probably wouldnt want a spiky meat sack flailing around your mouth, like we do with tongues.

also, look at scugs diet. theyre herbivores and insectivores, most of them being unable to eat meat (i imagine centipede flesh is quite soft once you get past the exoskeleton). the only scugs that can eat meat are hunter, artificer, gourmand, and spearmaster. three of these are genetically modified, hunter being specifically created to be a powerful warrior, spearmaster being... spearmaster, and artificer being the only scug with claws and also being able to Spontaneously Explode For Mobility.

gourmand is a special case, being yknow, a gourmand. they can eat meat from lizards and such, however it gives only half the pips of other meat eaters. this says to me that their system isnt built to handle meat, and they can only eat specific parts of these creatures. this is probably true of all slugcats, its just that gourmand has experience is what parts can and cant be eaten, them being the gourmand.

anyway my point here is, slugcats cant eat hard foods. think about what they eat. blue fruit is a bug chrysalis and therefore full of goo, bubble fruit seem to be made of some kind of gel, popcorn is popcorn, slime mold is slime, ect. ect. in the case of gooieducks, scugs have to rip off the hard casing in order to eat them. scugs are made to eat soft foods and liquids. so, they probably dont have teeth. or, if they do, they are affixed to their tongue, and previously discussed.

so why am i discussing scug diets in this post about scug language? well you see, dear reader, if scugs dont have lips, how do they hold their food in their mouth? their lips. and what is the main part of your mouth you use to go "wawawa?" thats right, your lips. scug lips are probably the most easy to use mouthpart they have

so, imagine youre ruffles. moon has been talking to you in her weird ancients language to you, which seems to consist entirely of mouth sounds (no throat sounds or non-verbal cues at all! how strange!) you love moon very much and want to make her happy, so you try to mimick her language. you arent used to using your mouth to speak very much, so what do you do? you just start making a sound and flapping your lips. and what sound does that make?

"wawawa."

and THAT, dear friends, is why scugs go wawawa.

[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Mission; scarlet stars fantasy au (working on finding a name)

-Prologue; kayl-

Notes before story; i dont write multi chapter fics often. And character behaviors might not be 100% accurate to those when the full game comes out(relying on the demo rn), but im having fun! Also, since its still small, MSS was originally created by my buddy, boris! As an instaronpa. Now its becoming a full on game and hes directing it, alongside one other persob and a team. Id give the demo a try! Its on itch.io(? I think thats what its called).

Promotion aside, ive never written a huge fantasy stoey before. Mostly vampires n dragons. Ive been having fun with this though! I get to write and design fantasy appearances for the characters. (Still fighting the urge to give bear-taur mezsha a bear nose...).

Also, while i created a few ocs for this au, Ivernake is not one. Hes from the original mss!! (Not in the demo tho).

Cordelia and casper are two of said ocs. Others that might show up are; atlas, caspian, athena(named after the greek god), and a few unnamed dragon ocs.

Also i hope i wrote this right im not great at writing in the perspective of characters who are meant to be the big bads of the story. And i hope the hunters are written at least okay. I have covid rn and i havent been able to do anything othwr than write and overthink and im overthinking rn lol. Im trying. Not beta read really.

“Captain!,” A heavily scarred man shouted, holding onto a net and heaving it onboard, “We got one of them fish beasts!”

Kayl walked down the stairs very slowly, gripping the hand rail and walking to the flailing mermaid cautiously. “Get some water, now. We need them alive.” He ordered as he squatted down in front of them.

The crewmate scrambled away to grab a bucket, leaving Kayl to talk to the so-called beast.

“Oi,” he started, “What’s your name.”

The mermaid met his gaze, yellow eyes glinting in fear as they trembled. “...Cordelia.”

The red-head glanced over his shoulder as the crewmate returned. The bucket had droplets of water dribbling down the side, causing the mermaid’s eyes to widen in desperation. She reached her hand out and caught a droplet in her palm, sighing with relief and struggling to catch more.

“Cordelia. I have a deal for you,” Kayl said roughly, knocking on the deck to get her attention, “if you tell me where to find harpies and avians, I’ll set you free.”

The bluenette mermaid looked hesitant for a few seconds before she nodded. “Okay. There’s a a flock of harpies north of here. You’ll know you’re close to them when you pass a large oak.”

Kayl nodded, grabbing the bucket from his crewmate and splashing some water onto Cordelia. “One more thing before i let you out of the net, do you know if any of those birdies is in contact with a mage?”

Cordelia wrinkled her nose at that, slapping her tail on the deck in frustration. “I don’t. Please, let me free now.”

Kayl stood up with a sigh, waving his head. “Well, i am a man of my word… Casper, undo the net and toss the fish overboard. There’s one more of these beasts that I must talk to.”

-

The creature had been on the ship for days, refusing to address the crewmates or the captain. They had been starved, dehydrated, even threatened. But they refused to speak. Kayl was sure it’d change today.

“Moth,” he said smoothly, briskly making his way to the cage, “are ya ready to speak? Name first. And then I’ll ask questions.”

The moth-creature looked up gloomily, their eyes sunken with exhaustion and hunger and thirst. “...Ivernake.”

“I’ve heard of ya. Famous boxer, i think? Must make loooots of money. I got a proposal for ya; if you give us a few thousand gold, we’ll let ya leave! Deal?” Kayl stuck his hand in the cage, cracking a grin.

Ivernake scoffed, smacking his hand away. “You aren’t getting anything from me. No matter what you and your scum crewmates do, i’m not gonna give you anything for my freedom if it risks others like myself being hurt. I’d rather die.”

The captain’s face became a sneer. “Then die you will.” He hissed, drawing the sword from his hip and planting it directly in the middle of the moth’s back.

Just as he drew his blade out and let the boxer fall to the ground, his crewmates broke into a riot. “CAPTAIN!”, one yelled. “SHE’S BACK!” Another screamed.

Kayl dove for cover before looking up. That purple-haired vulture had made a return, her arms full of bottles and her wings flapping furiously against the wind.

Drop, smash, drop, smash. It started with small yellow bursts, but then it grew larger. The ship began to sink, the cages began to slip around on the deck. His crewmates were wailing and abandoning ship.

It took a lot of effort for Kayl to stand up, but he managed. The last thing he saw before he slammed into the water was the lifeless, unforgiving, eyes of Ivernake.

He didn’t feel remorse, though. He felt angry. He couldn’t die now, he refused to. He swam against the tide and gasped for air, watching as his ship sank to the dark abyss– and a feeling of hatred engulfed his heart. He watched as the vulture dove down for one single cage, dragging it up in her talons and calling for help.

Three more avians flew in and lifted the cage with the lifeless body inside.

How many times had that same group come to sink his ship, how many times had he lost a crewmate and some good money? He couldn’t keep count. He was mad, and he certainly wanted those birds gone for good.

-PROLOGUE: END-

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Ahhhh I’m the anon that was converted into a Sugu stan hello!!🥺 Oh my goodness thank you so so much for your darling response it made me feel so giddy and happy to know that it met you well!🥺 Thank you so so much for taking the time to respond to everything, I was having such a lovely time reading through your response!😭😭 Your Sugu is just so lovely and wife coded and any day where I can’t hold his hand is agony and suffering😔

And not to ping pong from topic to topic but oml mer! thoughts😳 I dont think this would necessarily align with what you may have in mind for your Sugu fic, but I am such a goblin for the trope of childhood friends human and mer that have a chance/meaningful encounter in their youth only to reunite later in life and let the story go from there that is??? Good food😳

And slightly piggybacking off of that ^^^ imagine a young reader strolling along the beach and exploring much farther out than what their fam/guardians/ whomever would appreciate, and lo and behold they see this poor looking creature washed up and tangled in fishers net along the beach. Stepping closer it dawns on them that this is a mer, and judging by the state it’s in, weak and sluggish movement, shallow breathing, it doesn’t have much of a fighting chance if it isn’t freed ASAP. So they take a pocket knife or a sharp shell or something and gets to work and starts sawing through the net and things get ROUGH. Suddenly springing to life out of a last ditch defense mer!Sugu just starts flailing and hissing, swiping with nails/claws and baring fangs with frenzied anger, managing to make a clean cut somewhere on the reader, be it on their upper cheek or their hand or forearm.

All the while reader is doing their best to say soothing words and convey that everything will be okay. Eventually Suguru is freed and more or less scurries back into the water, but before diving underneath the water he takes a moment and stills, taking a good long look back at the human child knocked flat on their butt, sitting on the sand staring right back, who couldn’t have been any older than him. Then he thinks of his elders, the ones who had told him to avoid humans above all else because humans never bring anything good to their kind. Before the reader can scramble to their feet or say anything else sugu swims away and that’s that. Years pass and any thought of the encounter can more or less be brushed aside as a hazy summer childhood memory where the readers imagination just got a bit too lively. Merpeople exist, but really and truly, what are the chances of the reader having such a unique encounter? It is a memory coded as fantasy.

I have no more thoughts but okay just imagine😳 reader returns to that beach years later and somehow meets with Sugu again, and as cheesy or unrealistic as it sounds they both have a moment where it just clicks that despite it all they have met before. Suguru remembers a kind human child, his one man scuffle as an act of defense and scraping his hero. He recognizes that long healed graze of a claw, he knows who this is.

Okay that was a doozy but I promise! From here on out everything will be much more bite size and to the point ^^;

I have a question, in the world you’re writing, do you think there’s any type of magic or sorcery? If so, do any mer have the ability to harness and use it? Furthermore, would Sugu be able to, and if so, what are the extent of his powers? It’s just a fun thought considering so many mer! in media do have at least some type of it, and the idea of a mer!Sugu having some type of power is😳 incheresting😳 (also entirely unrelated but I’ve been thinking about mer! themed nicknames and the only one I can remember off the top of my head is ‘Sweetshark’ being a play off of ‘Sweetheart’. Who said that neways)

Oh! And another thought! Say that the Reader maybe catches a nasty cold or is just generally feeling under the weather and can’t visit Sugu like they normally do, how is Suguru holding up? Does he just assume that they up and left him, the one human he’s decided to open his heart up to? Or is he more concerned about their safety, wondering where they are and if they’re okay? What is his reaction when they finally return?

And not to change the topic out of nowhere but!! Oh my goodness yes!!! Being in a fandom that has so much smut, it’s so very comforting and nice to have a sfw corner to vibe and chat in! (Not that there is ever anything wrong with writing or enjoying smut ofc!) Thinking of these characters and how they would treat an aroace reader is so so comforting and it really warms my heart! stsg would be so sweet and patient!🥺 (And don’t worry! You weren’t being pushy or assuming anything, as someone who does fall on the aroace spectrum it is endlessly refreshing to see these ideas and how these characters would handle and treat someone like that! They’re the ultimate sweeties and would be so good to anyone, but for someone who is aroace?? Idk it just works so so well!🥺)

And! Thank you so so much I would be honored to go by a lil anon tag, I just get shy and sometimes don’t really send things in ^^; So if that isn’t any trouble and it would be okay/ if it isn’t taken, would it be possible to go by 🍓 anon? Or if that’s taken, maybe 🍎 anon? <:) Regardless, thank you so so much for your time and all of your kind words and thoughts, they mean they absolute world and then some to me!🥺 I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/night!🥺

HELLOOOOO 🍓 ANON……. the perfect emoji for someone so sweet !! <333

pls i can’t thank u enough for sending me such a heartfelt ask, it rlly did warm my heart sooo so much :’3 AND I’M SOOO OVERJOYED THAT U THINK MY SUGU IS WIFECODED??? that’s all i want him to be tbh …. he’s a girlfriend he’s a Mother he’s a wife <3333 etc etc. u get it !!!

AND OHHHH 🍓 ANON ………….. this entire ask was just a goldmine of ideas….. would u believe me if i said i was planning for the suguru fic to follow that plotline almost exactly 😭😭😭 not exactly a childhood encounter au, but something very very similar!!! basically the same function……. and when reader and sugu meet for the first time i was also imagining him being hissy and defensive and reader cutting the net w a switchblade from their pocket, murmuring sweet reassurances to him…. WE’RE SOOO IN SYNC it’s the mer!sugu hivemind fr!! i adore ur take on this au, any variation of the childhood friends trope is a favorite of mine :33 and the scar is so genius too!! i think the idea of meeting a mermaid during one of your childhood summers is just theee loveliest concept ever 🥺🥺

BUTTT OKOK… onto ur questions!! they were soooo fun to think abt and answer, tysm for asking!! it rlly helps me when it comes to figuring out mer!sugu’s character, merfolk lore, etcetc :>

I have a question, in the world you’re writing, do you think there’s any type of magic or sorcery? If so, do any mer have the ability to harness and use it? Furthermore, would Sugu be able to, and if so, what are the extent of his powers?

GREATTT QUESTION…. this is something i’ve thought abt before when answering another ask!! basically, i imagine the mermaids in this au as being kind of sinister and siren-like, with an ability similar to hypnosis!! when they speak and sing, they can lure humans into a false sense of security, beckon them closer, dull their senses… etc etc. that’s basically all though!! i do also think they’d be very powerful and ferocious…. i have another piece of lore planned but i haven’t completely figured it out yet !! what i will say is that these mermaids are almost kinda. werewolf like 😭😭 in the sense that they change with the cycles of the moon !! :33

oh and and !! obv suguru is one of the more powerful mermaids….. definitely overwhelmingly good at using his voice, and also just very physically strong and heavy. you are NOT making it out of an encounter alive lol. (his only weakness is his tender heart <33)…

AAAA AND THE MER PETNAMES PAGDJSHJS… SOOO CUTE ….. SWEETSHARK ….. 😭😭😭 i NEED reader to call suguru that. i think they would also call him their little fishy <333 maybe he’d get back at them by calling them his little silly seal ……… sigh . their dynamic is so cute to me 😔😔

Oh! And another thought! Say that the Reader maybe catches a nasty cold or is just generally feeling under the weather and can’t visit Sugu like they normally do, how is Suguru holding up? Does he just assume that they up and left him, the one human he’s decided to open his heart up to? Or is he more concerned about their safety, wondering where they are and if they’re okay? What is his reaction when they finally return?

I LOVEEEEE THIS IDEA SO MUCH and my answer also ties in to some other anon asks hehe :33 in this au mermaids can move on land, but obv it’s risky and depending on the terrain it’s pretty tough….. reader lives very close to the beach and mer!sugu is super flexible, so i think that in this scenario he waits for a while, gets impatient, gets grumpy, and THEN gets worried. he’s trying so hard to act like he doesn’t care but we all know reader is his special little human :((( so after a while he’s like. what if they got hurt? what if they collapsed from lack of nutrients??? (for some reason i picture mer!sugu fixating a lot on reader’s eating habits… making sure they’re always well fed….. it’s part of the mermaid courting process i think)

…. so he ends up flopping his way over to their little house, carrying a bunch of raw fish and herbs <333 all worried and grumpy bc they left him hanging and he was forced to realize that he actually enjoys their company a Lot. which is very embarrassing for him. but as soon as he sees them all delirious and weak he probably tries his best to take care of them 🥺🥺 he’s not good at it LOL but he does have some experience …. and he’s very soft for them. can’t bear to be too snarky when they’re in pain or distress :((( he’s a sweetheart… a sweetshark even……….. lulls them to sleep with his voice and watches over them until they’re better. 🥺

ohhhh 🍓 anon this was so fun ……. tysm for sending ur thoughts my way and for being so sweet!!! u made me think a bunch abt this au and i appreciate it sm <333 ANDDDD FELLOW ASPEC HEHE it’s so good to have u here!!! stsg really would be so patient and kind…….. 🥺🥺 i might’ve said it before but i really am so glad the concept can bring u some comfort!! it does the same to me too :’3

ALSO before i forget….. pls don’t ever feel worried abt being shy / sending stuff in !!! there’s never, and i mean absolutely never, any pressure to!!! i’m the kind of person who can randomly disappear every now and then too so i totally get it 😭😭 the anon tag is just so that i recognize u (and bc it’s cute hehe).. but pls know that you never ever have to send anything in unless you want to!! doesn’t matter if it’s now or in a month or in a couple years. so pls don’t worry abt it at all <33 !!

[fablewritesnonsense]

howdy! for the fic writer asks, 3, 4, 13, and 19?

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

On this account? Nuclear Family by a landslide. It's my longest project literally ever, and the characters are so near and dear to my heart 💖

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

An embarrassing number to be sure. There's the four I've got posted, but I've also got three more documents in a weird state of flux at the moment with like, 500 words max across them.

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

Very little compared to some of my fellow writers. I have a loose outline in my head for each of them based around Fallout 4 and the questlines within, but I dont do well with hard outlines so I end up winging it a bit and wili diving for fun quest ideas to send me somewhere. I also fay dream a bunch about them, but I dont think that counts 😂

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs

There was no cute fluffy thing to pick from, so heres an excerpt from one of Nuclear Family's chapters set to post in January...

The earth was torn out from under her as a cold metal hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing and lifting her up off the ground. Kellogg hung from a tree, dangling Gin over the others as he slowly crushed her throat. Everyone beneath began yelling and screaming as she flailed around, trying to kick him or something.

"I knew you were trouble, this is going to be so fun," Kellogg laughed as Mac fired, there was a searing pain across her forearm as she scrambled at his hands. But all she could see were his synthetic yellow eyes as the oxygen left her lungs and his fingers dug deeper and deeper. "Maybe this will finally get him to stop fighting. And believe me, this is preferable to what you're going to find on the other end-"

Thanks dor the ask 💖

[purplehairedwonder]

Oh man so hard to choose. 3, 4, 21, 23, 24, 40, 56, 73? (you don't have to do them all if you dont want to lmao)

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic.

Hm. It usually starts when I have an idea that I want to get down--whether it's for a one-shot or where I want the next chapter of a multi-chaptered fic to go. I have a Law playlist that I listen to when I write. I usually write chronologically, but sometimes I get stuck and will move around to get the juices flowing. Lately, I've been doing more sprints with friends on Discord, which has been great motivation to get writing done, too!

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Most often, my ideas come from other media I consume. Maybe it's an AU or a certain scenario that I'd like to see my blorbos deal with.

I also do a lot of good thinking in the shower XD

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Absolutely! I think that would be so fun!

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

Read! Read and read and read. Your writing will become better for reading good writing and seeing what strong writers do in their works. Think about what you like about something you read and how you might apply it to your own writing.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

My least favorite writing advice is to avoid adverbs (I'm looking at you, Stephen King.) I understand the point--often, an adverb can be replaced with a strong verb, like "He said angrily" vs. "He snarled"--but you will pry adverbs from my cold, dead hands (she said defiantly).

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Oh, there are so many! Off the top of my head, I'd love to see the Law and Luffy scene on the deck of the Sunny at the end of "Our Hearts Made Whole in Each Other."

There's also a small scene in "Restless Hearts" where Penguin finds Law standing on the deck of the Tang in the middle of the night, eyes shut and head tilted toward the moonlight; I'd lose my mind if someone illustrated that.

I'd also love to see people's takes on any of my versions of Corazon!Law. @ninhaoma-ya did an amazing one here of Law and Viola's friendship in "Hearts With(out) Chains" that I'm still flailing over.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Flow is something I'm very cognizant of when I write. I want one sentence to flow easily into the next, one event smoothly to the next, and so on.

I'm also very intentional about expressing character actions and thoughts in with dialogue to help with characterization. I'm all about show, don't tell.

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I'd say the same thing as above; the things that I make the most effort to work on are the things I think my writing excels most at. I'd be curious as to what people who read my stuff think, though!

Thanks for the ask, Rim! <3

Send me asks from the Get to know your fic writer meme.

I’ve answered 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 13, 17, 18, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 37, 39, 40, 42, 47, 54, 56, 65, 73, 76

[zephfair]

hiiii! 7, 19, 29 for the fanfic writer asks if you dont mind! 💕✨

Hellooo! Of course I don't mind! Anything for you! 😘😘😘

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

Oh man *pulls off my socks so I can count on my fingers and toes* By my lousy math skills, I’ve got 12 TRC fic WIPs, 2 Bleach and 1 Teen Wolf fic that I recently re-read what I had and it made me laugh so if there’s any market still for Stiles/Derek fic, I might someday finish that. Omg, that’s waaaay too many WIPs. 😂😭

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

This is from the unnamed little fic based on a Tumblr post that sprouted another head and now, idek. It's another meet-cute/ugly.

Ronan really didn’t want to find another dead body. He didn’t want the years of nightmares. He did not want to find this dude’s battered and bleeding body. But it didn’t look like he had a choice.

He shuffled up slowly and swore then hauled back his boot and kicked the dude right in the unprotected ribs. But gently.

“Hey, man, you dead?” was probably not the best thing to say but whatever.

To Ronan’s huge and unexpected relief, the body jerked.

“Oh thank Christ, you’re alive. Do you need some help?”

The body flailed its arms and legs, looking like it was trying to make upside down snow angels in the mud. But it didn’t try to rise.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

I was going to write a second part to Special Delivery from Adam’s POV. Not to cover all the events of Special Delivery, but to look at some of the worst/funniest parts from Adam’s perspective and include the missing bits with Gansey. Watch Adam as he realizes that Lynch is a freakin’ weirdo who is really very hot but still has no idea who Adam actually is. And as Adam tries to get his flirt on but he’s almost as bad at it as Ronan and then move past into their first couple dates until they finally bow-chicka-bowbow.

Alas, I’m not planning on writing it anymore.😂

[daechwitatamicrecs]

let me start by saying i can't believe i'm HERE??????????? oh my god. an ot7. oh my god. this series is a masterpiece. it is done SO carefully and SO well. the writing is phenomenal, the characters are SO unique (and i KNOW how hard that is!!), and it all just WORKS. like i'm not sure if people who dont write realize what a GIGANTIC undertaking it is to keep 14+ (bc we have recurring side characters!!!) people with unique voices straight and keep those storylines straight, and drop the pieces or the plot in a way that is exciting and engaging and keeps readers guessing and.... damn. like this is really truly something special and i hope you know that. i have literally laughed and cried my way through season 1 and it has been such a delight during a time of my life where my job has me really struggling, and i'm grateful to you for this escape.

ANYWAY!!!

yes seokjin, taehyung is high on pu- [gunshots]

i deeply hate this phase or seokjin and nari's arc lol FIX THEM NEXT >:(

i both love and hate what is clearly brewing with jk and dilara lol like... as long as tae is the endgame (and the lia fics seem to indicate as much) then i am kind of loving the drama lol will dilara end up on the OTHER side of making mistakes? that would be so juicy lol

jimin: WHY ARE YOU HERE >:( also jimin: *refuses to leave her alone*

yoongi: WHY ARE YOU HERE >:( also yoongi: *refuses to leave her alone*

asijfiauefhaeiufhueifh they're such a mess. ok but seriously the way jimin and sooah separate and return to each other is so cyclical and rhythmic, they're like a tide. there's something special about it even as it hurts. and of course i am WATCHING you min yoongi because for someone you "can't stand" you sure spend a lot of time in her personal space.

not hoseok LEAVING THE PARTY godddddddddddddd he is SUCH A DISASTER IM GONNA BE HONEST ITS HARD TO WATCH. IT IS HARD. TO WATCH. HE IS FLAILING. HE IS FLOUNDERING. HE IS A HOT MESS EXPRESS.

I wonder what we didn't see happen with Kaya...... I hope it wasn't too serious :( fuck that guy for EXISTING idc what he did or said he can ROT

ok so ending notes: dont TOUCH kaya and namjoon LEAVE THEM ALONE CATH I MEAN IT I MEAN IT SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New Year’s Eve Eve

Summary: BTS celebrates Taehyung's birthday in Seoul.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, chaos

Word count: 12.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, allusions to sex and other R-rated things, insinuations of harassment, public intoxication

A/N: I... cannot believe we're finally here. 40+ fics later, we're finally at the first OTx fic which is exactly how I imagined this universe at the very beginning. A lot of context has been set so far and now the series properly begins as one giant story with interweaving plots.

It feels like a huge, huge milestone, so to all the readers who've stuck around and read/liked/reblogged/commented/asked: this one's for you.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "home" by bts

main masterlist

A quick recap of where everyone is at the beginning of this fic (under the cut for spoilers):

Namjoon and Kaya are in a fully committed relationship, happy and in love

Seokjin and Nari are in a limbo of sorts, both of them getting closer to different co-workers

Yoongi and Miso work together begrudgingly

Hoseok is trying to come to terms with the fact that Chaeyoung is no longer twelve years old

Sooah comes to the realisation that her past with Jimin may be affecting her present with Alex, and she prepares to make a tough decision

Taehyung and Dilara, after a tough year of pain and heartbreak, are finally back together

Jungkook is just Jungkook

---

Seokjin shoves his phone determinedly into his pocket and rings the doorbell. Tonight is not about him, or her. It’s about a differently uncomfortable situation altogether, one he’s had to learn to live with over the course of his career.

“Hyung!”

Seokjin almost doesn’t hear Taehyung’s yell over the R&B track playing inside the penthouse. It’s filled with people - Taehyung’s friends, all of them, Seokjin is sure - drinking and dancing, making it just the kind of party that makes Seokjin extremely conscious of his hands.

“Heyyy,” he replies, trying to mimic Taehyung’s tone of excitement. “How’s - how’s it going? Oh, happy birthday,” he adds, stepping forward and hugging him.

Taehyung slaps his shoulder and beams. “Drinks are over there,” he informs him, gesturing to a fully stocked bar at the far end of the living room. “Food is in the kitchen - try the fish, it’s spectacular. Oh, and your best friend Donghyuk is over there -” He breaks off, snickering when Seokjin makes a face. “And, uh - what’s left? Right - the vibe,” he adds with a flourish, “is everywhere.”

“There’s no easy way to ask this,” says Seokjin, “but are you high?”

Taehyung laughs a little too much at something Seokjin hadn’t even fully intended as a joke. “Just on life, hyung,” he says wisely, patting his shoulder and raising a glass of whiskey at him.

Before Seokjin can respond to this, another figure appears from behind Taehyung with a faint scent of roses. “Hey, Seokjin!” Dilara greets him with a one-armed hug, the other hand balancing a glass of red wine. 

“Life, huh?” Seokjin mutters to Taehyung, before switching to English. “Hey, Dilara, good to see you. Having fun?”

“It’s a lot of people,” is all she says, shrugging easily as Taehyung pulls her to him by the waist, seemingly out of habit. “You should get a drink, too. Oh, and try the -”

“Fish, I’ve heard. Where’s, uh -” He scans the room as they walk in and sees Namjoon and Kaya by the window with Yoongi, Hoseok with a couple of producers from Big Hit. Jimin isn’t visible but Seokjin hears a shout of laughter from somewhere in the party that can only belong to him. 

“- Jungkook?”

“Oh -” Dilara frowns and looks around, as though expecting Jungkook to appear from behind a curtain. The silver hoops in her ears glint in the dim light. “He got here about an hour ago. Should be around here somewhere.”

Seokjin nods mutely, mildly disappointed that the one person he could rely on to give him company at a party can’t be located.

Well, one of two people. But she won’t arrive till much later, if she makes it at all. The possibility makes his palms slightly sweaty.

“Namjoon hyung is here, though,” says Taehyung, pointing at the leader who catches Seokjin’s eye and waves. Kaya stands next to him, only her side profile visible, nodding at something Yoongi is saying. “Also, Yuna - you like Yuna, you met her at Inkigayo this year,” he reminds him. “She’s here, too. And, Lara, you need to meet Seojoon hyung and the rest of them.”

“I think I should go find Jungkook, actually,” she replies, stepping back apologetically. “Just in case something is wrong. Have fun with your friends, though,” she adds quickly, reaching up and kissing his cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Seokjin watches as Taehyung stares after her, following her through the crowd of people. “How do you even know this many people?” he asks, mostly to snap him out of his silence.

“Here and there,” he answers vaguely. “Anyway, let’s get you a drink? Oh, is Nari coming, by the way?”

Seokjin makes a non-committal noise as he follows Taehyung, hoping that will suffice. Fortunately, Taehyung changes the subject.

Dilara, true to her word but less so towards her motivations, heads down the hallway of Taehyung’s penthouse in search of the missing BTS member. Her heels click on the marble floor as she reaches the den, making an educated guess about Jungkook’s whereabouts. She pauses at the door, hearing a faint sound, and opens it without warning.

“There you are!”

Jungkook jumps and swears in Korean. “Fuck - you scared the shit out of me,” he gasps, clutching his chest.

Dilara steps inside the dark room and frowns, surveying his lone figure on the sofa and the video console in his hand. “We’re at a party and you’re playing -” She takes another few steps and peers at the screen “- Mario Kart? By yourself?”

His eyes dart from her to the screen and back to her “You can join me if you want.”

“I -” She pauses as she considers this for a fraction of a second. “No! There’s a party going on outside - why are you in here like some depressed loner playing video games by yourself in the dark?”

Jungkook stares at her. “Because there’s a party going on outside. There’s too many people,” he adds uncomfortably when she gives him a look.

“Aren’t they your friends?”

“Kind of, not really. Why aren’t you out there?” He questions, sounding a bit defensive. “It’s your boyfriend’s birthday.”

“I know it’s my boyfriend’s birthday,” she admits, “but my boyfriend is also a very popular person and he’s got, like, nine million friends.”

When she doesn’t continue, Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “So? Shouldn’t his friends become your friends?”

“In theory, yes. But they don’t know me.”

“Then go and intro - intro -”

“I did go and introduce myself,” she interrupts. “I said annyeonghaseyo to everyone. Hey - don’t laugh,” she chides him as he snickers, but fails to keep a smile off her own face. “Come on, I’ve said hi to everyone, I’ve met them… I just felt bad for Tae, okay? I’ve been monopolising him ever since I got here and now he’s having to stand around and translate everything for me -” She sighs, feeling her shoulders fall slightly. “He wasn’t having fun, so I thought I’d let him have some time with his friends and I could have some time with mine.”

Jungkook blinks. “Who, me?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go have a drink or something,” she urges him, going over to grab his arm.

He struggles in response. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a party,” she says for what feels like the tenth time. “We’re supposed to have fun, it’s almost a new year. So many reasons.”

“I liked you better when you were depressed,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Come on, please,” she whines, pulling at his hand again. “You don’t have to socialise. We’ll just go out there, have a few drinks, dance a bit. Please, I don’t have anyone else to talk to,” she adds in a small voice.

“What are you talking about? What about Kaya? I saw you two talking when I came.”

“Yeah, I was and she’s sensational,” admits Dilara. “I think I’m a little in love with her, actually - but then Namjoon stole her away. They’re dancing as we speak, all… slow and close and intimate,” she explains vaguely, recalling how they had sauntered over to the dance floor, Namjoon holding her hand and turning her around so her back was to his chest, incongruous yet perfectly in sync to the hip hop beat thumping outside.

“They’re slow dancing? To -“ Jungkook squints and listens. “Is this ASAP Rocky? They’re slow dancing to ASAP Rocky?”

Dilara nods solemnly. “It is. They are.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. They’re being all tall and sexy and they shouldn’t be interrupted. Ever. For the rest of their lives.” She tilts her head pleadingly again. “So? Please? Don’t leave me alone out there.”

“I’m not. We can be together in here,” he points out. 

“No, we can’t. That would look really bad. And I didn’t put on make-up and style my hair so I could be hidden inside a room like this.”

He briefly checks out her LBD and high heels. “It’s annoying,” he complains, flopping back on the sofa. “Everybody’s a couple and I’m like this… loser kid that everybody’s dragging along with them.”

“That’s not true,” she says immediately. “Everybody’s not a couple. Jimin’s out there, single as ever.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Is Sooah there?”

Dilara wracks her brain for all the people she was introduced to tonight. “Uh… Sooah. Yes, I think. With the… the red lipstick and the sexy jeans. But she and Jimin aren’t a couple. I don’t think I’ve seen them say a single word to each other yet.”

Jungkook scoffs, going back to his game. “Jimin and Sooah are always a couple. Even when they’re not a couple, they’re a couple.”

Dilara stares. “Okay, that’s it. Come on, JK,” she mutters, tugging him by the arm hard enough that he’s forced to resist until she lets him go with a jerk. “You know what? Fine. I can’t force you,” she sighs, defeated. “Have fun thinking about what Tae and I did on that sofa,” she says nonchalantly before leaving, ignoring his loud groan from behind her.

The first person she spots when she re-enters the living room is Sooah, the girl Jungkook mentioned. Curious, she goes over to Jimin who’s fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker, alone for the first time all night.

“Hey, Jimin.” She stops and leans backwards against the table as he nods in acknowledgement. “Who is that? Is that Sooah?”

Jimin’s head whips around and he immediately winces, rubbing his neck. “Where? Where did you see -” His eyes focus where Dilara points to another group of people and he swallows. “Taehyung,” he growls in a low voice, slamming his glass on the table before darting off into the crowd.

Dilara stares as he disappears. “Perfect,” she mutters, finishing his drink in one swig.

Jimin snakes through the guests, taking care to ensure Sooah doesn’t spot him. He finally sees Taehyung with a couple of his older friends, taking a selfie. 

“Hyung, do you mind if I borrow him?” Jimin interrupts, smiling tightly at them. “It’s important.” Seojoon nods, looking amused, and Jimin takes it as permission to drag Taehyung away.

“What is it?” Taehyung asks, moving his open collar a bit and fanning himself. “Is it Dilara?”

“No, it’s not Dilara,” he hisses. “What is Sooah doing here?”

Taehyung frowns. “What do you mean? It’s a party. It is quite literally the most predictable place for her to be.”

“But -” Jimin doesn’t understand why his heart is hammering, for Taehyung is right. No party is a party without Kim Sooah. “Why didn’t you - why didn’t you tell me? I would tell you if I invited Dilara somewhere.” When he spots Taehyung’s mildly confused expression, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, not the right comparison. Just… I didn’t know you two were, you know… close.”

“Really?” Taehyung asks incredulously. “We all went to high school together. She and I have been friends for as long as you and her have been… well, not friends, obviously.” He snickers before looking down at Jimin’s hands. “Why don’t you have a drink?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“You need to be drunker than this,” states Taehyung.

Jimin stares. “How could you,” he whispers, shaking his head. “My best friend. No warning.” He clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“Listen, I have to go make sure there’s more vodka and maybe see if Dilara is okay. Have a good time,” he says quickly, patting Jimin’s shoulder.

“I hate you!” Jimin exclaims as Taehyung walks away. He glares at him until he finds Dilara near the kitchen, both their faces lighting up at the sight of each other, and turns away in annoyance. Sooah is here - here - and Taehyung didn’t think to warn him.

Jimin looks around, waiting for his mood  to sour and trying to ignore how, despite this news, his stomach is already fluttering in anticipation. He spots Seokjin in the corner with a beer, looking pensively into his phone, while Yoongi next to him observes the party blankly with a whiskey in his hand. Jimin makes a beeline for them.

“You won’t believe what Taehyung did,” he complains, leaning against the wall next to them just as the song changes to a popular English track. There’s a low cheer as everyone prepares to do the viral steps to the chorus. But Jimin has never felt less like dancing; he tugs Seokjin’s bottle of his hand, who lets it go without a fuss, and takes a giant swig.

“It’s almost ten,” mutters Seokjin, seemingly to himself. He looks up and does a double take, as though just noticing Jimin. “How’s it going?”

“Taehyung’s an arse,” he says, waiting for one of them to ask why. When all Yoongi does is nod absently, Jimin exhales hard through his nose. “He invited Sooah. And he didn’t even tell me.”

“Aren’t they friends?” Yoongi asks apathetically.

“Not the point,” he says tightly. “She and I have history. He should’ve told me. I could’ve prepared for -” Here he breaks off, for it’s just occurred to him that he’s not completely sure why he’s so bothered by her presence here. 

“The real question isn’t why Taehyung didn’t tell you she was coming,” says Yoongi after a moment. “It’s why she’s been here for twenty minutes and still hasn’t come to talk to you.”

Jimin stares at Yoongi, who smirks slightly and goes back to people-watching. “That’s… no, she probably just doesn’t know I’m here. Or - or she’s waiting for me to say something. We haven’t been in the best place since -” He breaks off when something occurs to him. 

But at that very moment, Seokjin makes an unintelligible exclamation and darts forward.

“What the hell was that?” Jimin asks, a bit peeved at being ignored.

“His lady friend is here, I think,” says Yoongi, peering in the direction the older member disappeared.

“Oh. I didn’t know Nari was coming.”

“She isn’t.” Yoongi points with his glass. “That’s not Nari.”

Seokjin makes his way through the guests and sees Seulgi enter the open door, wincing in surprise at the loud music. She spots him just as he waves and she smiles - and Seokjin feels his stomach float. He can’t help it - it just does.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, reaching up to hug him as he kisses her cheek. “That dinner went on forever and one of the idols got drunk and I had to call a company cab to take him home -” She sighs and steps back. “It was a mess.”

The familiar scent of her conditioner lingers and Seokjin can’t help but notice how put together she still looks, not a hair out of place. “You don’t look exhausted,” he replies. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Please.” Seulgi nods and lets him take her hand as they weave through the crowd and to the bar. They meet Taehyung on the way, who seems to recognise Seulgi immediately, giving her a bow and a hug in succession before drifting off in a haze of alcohol-induced delight.

“He seems happy,” she comments, reaching for a bottle of red wine. “The consummate birthday boy, I guess.”

“No, it’s not that. He and his girlfriend recently got back together,” explains Seokjin, taking the bottle from her and pouring out two glasses. “She’s here somewhere, too,” he adds, realising he hasn’t seen Dilara since he arrived. 

“Cheers.” Their glasses clink and she sighs after taking a sip. “Speaking of which,” she says after a moment, tucking a lock of shiny hair behind her ear, “I feel like I need to apologise for the other night.”

Seokjin’s heart skips a beat. “You don’t -”

“I feel like I ambushed you a little bit,” she clarifies, sounding nervous. “That wasn’t my intention at all and… it definitely wasn’t my intention to pressure you. At all.”

He nods, believing her. But it doesn’t make her question any less pertinent. Seokjin had known this would come up; they’d gone on their first impromptu date almost two months ago and had continued to see a surprising amount of each other since then. 

He’d hoped that neither would have to bring it up at all and that it would organically become what it needed to be, but the moment she asked the age-old question of what are we doing exactly, he knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

“I don’t feel pressured,” he says honestly. He steps closer to her so their shoulders brush and feels her relax slightly.

Seulgi bites her lip and nods slowly. “I just don’t do well with ambiguity. You know, we’re both adults and… I don’t want to play the guessing game. But maybe it’s too soon,” she tacks on after a moment, shaking her head and looking away from him, taking another sip.

She doesn’t like ambiguity - that much he’s figured out in the time he’s known her. Whether it’s been picking out a restaurant, ordering food, having her career charted out, getting intimate at the right pace, knowing what she wants out of a relationship… Seokjin’s eyes roam over her clean pink blazer, the same one she’d worn when they’d first met, neatly folded at the forearms, and feels a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

He looks up to see Dilara appear through the crowd and waves her over. Her eyes search for the voice calling her name before she spots Seokjin and smiles, walking over.

“Dilara, have you met my girlfriend?” he asks, putting his arm around Seulgi’s shoulders.

“Oh!” Dilara raises her eyebrows, looking mildly confused. “Of course! Um, N-”

“Seulgi,” she introduces herself, offering her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she adds, speaking English for the first time since Seokjin has known her.

Seokjin sees a brief flash of confusion on Dilara’s face before it disappears. “You, too! I’m Dilara, Taehyung’s -” She breaks off when she sees something else across the room. “I’m sorry, I need to go… your most annoying band member is calling me,” she says to Seokjin before turning back to Seulgi. “But it was really nice to meet you. Have fun at the party!”

Seokjin feels his heart slow down slightly as Dilara leaves, long hair flowing down her back. It seemed an honest mistake on her part, but he’s just glad any awkwardness was avoided.

“So I really didn’t pressure you, huh?” Seulgi asks, breaking him out of his silence. She’s trying to suppress a smile, and he’s suddenly endeared.

“You didn’t. Just felt like the right time.”

“Introducing me to Taehyung’s girlfriend felt like the right time.”

“Naturally.”

She nods and bites her lip, and Seokjin tilts his head slightly to kiss her. It’s short and sweet, given they’re in public but it speaks volumes. There’s something cathartic about having made a decision that makes his stomach feel lighter… except for the one loose end nagging at the corner of his heart.

“Oh, is that Hyunjin?” Seulgi points to a short-haired girl who waves back in surprise. “I should go say hi. She’s sort of a client of a client…”

“Yeah, of course. I, uh… I actually need to make a phone call as well,” he replies, trying not to let the anxiety show in his voice.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” She squeezes his hand and departs, leaving Seokjin to watch her leave until she meets her friend and they start chatting, and he has no more ways of avoiding this conversation.

He goes over to the balcony despite the freezing air, the only place in the living room area that isn’t crowded. Taehyung had informed him earlier tonight that Nari would not be coming. His expression had betrayed nothing, but the fact that he’d thought to tell Seokjin in private amidst his happy buzz only told him that his situation with Nari wasn’t precarious only to him. Coupled with Dilara’s near-accidental slip of the tongue, Seokjin was sure that some speculation at least was occurring behind closed doors.

He should’ve had this conversation with Nari weeks ago. He knows it, just like he knew he shouldn’t wait for her to reach out first, just like he knew she wouldn’t show up tonight because she always worked night shifts on Thursdays. But there’s nothing to wait for anymore, not now that things are official. He owes her this much.

Just then, his phone buzzes and he almost falls when he sees a message from Nari. 

Can we talk?

Seokjin stares at the screen, wondering if she’s somehow read his mind, if someone told her about Seulgi before he had a chance to. Hand over his mouth, he shakes his head to himself, knowing this is the universe’s way of kicking them into a room together and locking the door until they speak to each other.

Before he can change his mind, he presses the call button and waits for her to answer.

Nari answers on the third ring. “Hey,” she says, and her tone makes it clear she knows exactly who it is. “Give me a second, I’ll just find a quiet place.” There’s a vague shuffling sound in the background before it goes quiet and she speaks again. “Thanks for calling.”

“Of course.” Seokjin pauses, wishing they were speaking again under better circumstances. He hears a sound in the background, like the crunch of a packet. She’s eating chips for dinner; he resists the urge to tell her to grow up and tries to stay on topic. “How have you been?”

“Not bad. Working a lot.”

“Same here.”

“Are you ready for the tour?”

“We never are.” It’s the truth. “It’s hard to be away from… everything.”

“I can imagine.” He imagines her nodding. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party. Is Taehyung having fun?”

“Looks like it. But you escaped a pretty crowded party,” he tells her, thinking that if things were different, they’d be huddled in a corner somewhere, probably with Jungkook tagging along. “I’d count myself lucky.”

She laughs lightly. “Good to know.” Nari pauses. “Seokjin… I know we haven’t talked in a while and it’s been…”

“Weird, yeah.”

“Yeah.” She pauses again. He hasn’t heard her sound this nervous in a while. He wonders momentarily if it’s another pregnancy scare before remembering how silly that sounds.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah. I - I know we’re not… I mean, this may not mean anything but it felt weird not telling you but it’s also kind of weird to tell you…” She sighs. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. I - I slept with Jason.”

There’s a gale of laughter from inside the living room. Seokjin frowns, knowing he hasn’t heard her wrong but feeling the need to double check all the same.

“You…”

“Yeah.”

“Like, doctor… Jason?”

“Well… yeah, I guess.”

“Oh.” Seokjin isn’t sure what to say. He knows why she’s telling him; he isn’t obtuse. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel, though. “Are you -“

“It was just one time,” she interrupts quickly. “We didn’t plan it, at all. It was really late and I’d just gotten screwed in the OR during surgery and he was having a bad day, too…” She sighs tiredly. “it just happened. It didn’t mean anything. Purely… recreational.”

Seokjin bites his lip, his knuckles looking white on the railing in the cold. He knows she added the last detail as a reassurance, but for some reason it just sounds off-putting.

“Okay. Sorry, I don’t really know what to say,” he mutters, hearing himself laugh awkwardly. He clears his throat. “I’m dating Seulgi.”

There’s silence on the other end. Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut, for he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that at all. 

“You’re… who?”

“Seulgi.” Out of instinct, he turns to face the party, spotting her pink blazer in the dim lighting. His girlfriend. “We met at your friend’s house. Remember? Turns out she works at Big Hit.”

"Seulgi. She - she works here at Big Hit. We met at your friend's party. Remember?"

"Oh. Right. Um... when? I mean... since when?"

"Uh, I guess our first date was technically... after that press conference last month. She hadn't eaten and I suggested -" He clears his throat. "Anyway. That night."

Nari is quiet for a minute. He can practically hear her mind working, and he frowns.

"Nari? Did you hear me?"

"The night of the press conference... as in, the night of my fundraiser?"

Seokjin's heart stops for a moment. "I - no. No, that wasn't the same night."

"Yes, it was. That's why you said you would be late."

The silence that follows is painfully sharp.

"Nari -"

"You know, I want to say I'm happy for you," she interrupts, her voice shaking just slightly, "but I'm afraid it'll sound sarcastic."

"I'm sorry." There's nothing else to say.

"I'm happy for you."

"It wasn't something I did on purpose, Nari. It's just something that... happened. Like - like you and Jason."

"Yeah. That sounds like the exact same thing."

"That’s not -"

"You know, I have to go.” He can hear the packet crackle again. “I have a long night ahead of me. Have fun at your party.”

Seokjin closes his eyes as she hangs up, slowly lowering his hand to his side and trying to remember the last conversation he’d had with Nari that ended on a good note. He’s at a loss; they seem so far gone down this road of… he’s not even sure what it is. It’s ambiguous, and Seokjin doesn’t think he has the energy to dissect their relationship anymore.

“Oi, hyung.”

He looks up to see Hoseok, dressed in baggy jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket. “Hey. I’ll be right in.”

“Okay, cool.” He shivers. “Why are you out here by yourself? It’s freezing. Anyway,” he continues, not waiting for Seokjin to respond, “we’re setting up for karaoke to start at midnight. You’ll be there, right?”

Seokjin cracks a smile. “You’re going to have to get me more drunk for that.”

“Not a problem.” Hoseok claps his hands. “Have you seen Namjoon?” When Seokjin shakes his head, he frowns. “Strange. I haven’t seen him for a while. Thought I’d ask Kaya but I can’t find her either. I’ll keep looking.” With that, he disappears back inside.

Meanwhile, Dilara walks up to Jungkook near the bar, who seems to have finally emerged from his cave. “You are an idiot,” she says by way of greeting, slapping his shoulder. “You told me Seokjin’s girlfriend was called Nari.”

Jungkook frowns incredulously “No, I didn’t. I specifically said she wasn’t his girlfriend.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, you told me his not-girlfriend was named Nari and apparently it’s Seulgi. Almost made a huge faux pas out there,” she informs him, giving him a glare. “You aren’t drinking?” she asks after a moment, noticing his hunched figure, hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans.

“Uh, sure.” He watches as she assembles two rum and coke mixes and hands him one. “Thanks.” He takes a sip and gags. “Wow, that’s strong. But I don’t hate it. And, hey, about before -” He winces apologetically. “Sorry. I was giving you a hard time.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says immediately. “I totally understand. Being the only single person in a paddock full of drivers parading around their gorgeous girlfriends made me pretty sick, too, so I get it. Which is why I’ve decided to solve that problem for you,” she adds brightly. “I’m going to make you happy as well.”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

Dilara gives him a blank look. “Right. Okay. I’m going to set you up.”

“No.”

“So what we’re going to do is - well, you’re going to tell me your type and I’m going to find it.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Everybody has a type,” she says calmly, taking a satisfying sip of her drink. “Even tall can be a type. Seriously, Jungkook.” She pats his shoulder. “Think.”

“Dilara, I don’t want you to set me up.”

“But I’m really good at it!” she insists.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Pierre Gasly and his current girlfriend?” She gives him a knowing look. “I’m the one who set them up together. Well, I saw her at a party and pointed her out to him, but that’s pretty much the same thing,” she amends, shrugging. “Oh, also: Lexie and Chris.”

“Lexie and Chris?” Jungkook scoffs. “How’s that going?”

“Not good,” she admits, “but it will get better.”

“Wait, Lexie and Chris? Your friends?” he asks incredulously. “Are they even talking to each other?”

“They are, sometimes, when the situation demands it,” she snaps. “But we’re getting off track here. Look, it doesn’t have to be a relationship. Just… you know, have a good time tonight. You’re hot - you don’t even need to try very hard. Just flirt, get her a drink, dance with her.” Dilara shrugs easily before noticing the look of horror on his face. 

“I’ve performed on stage for six hours on an empty stomach and even that sounds easier than what you just said.”

“Give yourself some credit. You’re better with girls than you think.” Dilara pats his shoulder encouragingly. “Just give it a try. It’ll be fun - and then we can go on group dates!”

“Group dates,” he repeats.

“Yes. You and your girl, me and Tae, Namjoon and Kaya.” She raises her eyebrows excitedly. “Seokjin and Seulgi. Jimin and his… situation.” 

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “No offence,” he says, taking another sip of his drink, “but that sounds like the worst plan ever.”

“You’re being a real downer, you know that?”

He sighs. “Fine,” he mutters, bumping her shoulder. “Who do you want to set me up with?”

“First, your type,” states Dilara, getting right back on track. “Blond or brunette?”

“Blond.”

“Oh.” She scans the living room, peers into the kitchen and the few people exiting the washrooms and bedrooms. “Okay. That narrows it down to that one girl exactly, over there.” She points to a few people standing near a painting. “The tall one, with the boobs.”

“Sounds like my type,” mutters Jungkook, sparing her a brief glance.

“Really?”

“No,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “I told you, I don’t have a type.”

“Everybody has a type -” Dilara is interrupted when she feels a pair of arms go around her waist, the toe-curlingly familiar scent of Sauvage wafting over. “Oh, hey, babe,” she murmurs.

“Finally,” mutters Jungkook, as Taehyung kisses the side of her head.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asks as she rests comfortably against his chest. “What are we doing?”

“We are trying to set Jungkook’s single arse up with someone,” she says, dodging his finger flick to her temple. 

“Really?” Taehyung looks at the crowd in interest. “Who?”

“Well, we’re looking for his type.” Dilara points at the blonde girl again. “Apparently that’s his type.”

“Jungkook doesn’t have a type.”

“Thank you,” groans Jungkook. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

“Everybody has a type - hey, Namjoon!” She waves him and Kaya over, both looking appropriately buzzed. As they near them, Dilara pretends not to notice the blooming hickey on his neck or the tiny rip high up on Kaya’s sheer stockings.

“Hey, guys,” she says, olive skin glowing. “Wow, I could use a drink,” she murmurs, making a beeline for the liquor.

“The rum is highly recommended,” says Dilara, moving over slightly. “Namjoon, what’s your type?”

Namjoon frowns at her, clearly lost, and glances at Taehyung and Jungkook. “Um… whiskey?” he guesses.

Dilara squints, while Taehyung snorts at the look on his face. Kaya turns around with her fresh drink and raises her eyebrows at their confusion. “Honey, I don’t think that’s what they meant,” she tells Namjoon in a low voice.

Fortunately for him, Hoseok pops his head into the group. “Everyone having a good time?” he asks cheerfully, throwing an arm around Namjoon and Jungkook each. “Karaoke at midnight, remember. Ladies, you, too. Gwaenchanayo?” Without waiting for an answer, he pats both members on the shoulder with a grin and leaves just as abruptly as he’d appeared.

Hoseok grooves to the song playing as he makes his way through the crowd. Karaoke at midnight, as far as he’s concerned, is too late. Unfortunately, the person who’s supposed to be bringing the machine is a late-show, combined with the cake-cutting and the time it will take to actually set everything up, midnight seems like a feasible deadline.

He runs a hand through his hair, stopping by Big Hit artists and colleagues wherever he sees them, reminding them about karaoke, when he spots a familiar face he hadn’t noticed until now.

“Sooah!” Hoseok jogs up to where she’s standing with a couple of people he’s never seen before that he guesses are Taehyung’s friends from high school.

Sooah waves back and excuses herself, looking blazing and beautiful in light jeans and a full-sleeved black top, choker and make-up in place. “Good to see you, oppa,” she says, reaching up to hug him and balancing a glass of what smells like straight vodka in her other hand. “Great party, huh?”

“Happy Taehyung can do things we’d never dreamed of,” he says wisely, still bopping to the beat. “You’re not dancing?”

She gives him a mock-knowing look. “Come on, you know I don’t dance,” she says, already looking self-conscious. “No need to embarrass myself in front of this many people.”

“You’re not that bad,” he says dismissively. “Even Jimin doesn’t think so - there he is!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Hoseok grabs Jimin from in between the crowd and pulls him over to join them. “Look who’s here!”

Jimin blushes, his expression staying carefully neutral. “Hi Sooah,” he says stiffly, taking a conspicuous sip of his vodka and cranberry drink. “Having fun?”

“The most,” she replies, contrastingly looking right at him. “How’ve you been?”

“Just swell.” He clears his throat, hearing how ridiculous and awkward he sounds. “You?” Then, before he can stop himself, he asks, “Alex isn’t with you?”

Sooah pauses for a fraction of a second before answering. “Not tonight, no.”

There’s a moment again when neither of them speaks, Jimin’s mind going a mile a minute at what that could possibly mean and Sooah giving him a mildly challenging look, as though daring him to ask more.

Hoseok claps his hands. “Not to change the subject or anything, but… how’s, uh, how’s Chaeyoung doing?”

She looks away from Jimin and raises her eyebrows. “Good, I think. Work’s keeping her a little busy but she’s okay.”

“Mhm, yeah. She’s, uh… she’s taking care of herself?”

“I - I guess?” Sooah frowns curiously. “She still lives with Sungmi and takes the metro to work everyday… eats lunch with her team…” She shrugs. “She’s pretty good with people.”

Hoseok wrinkles his nose. “She is?”

“Well, other people, obviously.”

“That’s good, then,” he says, nodding and looking marginally more satisfied than he was a moment ago. “I’m guessing  she has some fancy New Year’s Eve plans, too?”

“Not sure, honestly. She’s out tonight, though,” adds Sooah as an afterthought. “Even I thought the day before New Year’s Eve was kind of a weird night for a date, but she seemed excited about it so I didn’t say anything… what?” She frowns in confusion at Jimin behind Hoseok, shaking his head with his eyes wide. He stops the moment Hoseok looks at him, glancing at his drink conspicuously.

“Oh. She’s on a date?” Hoseok looks as though he’s processing this. “Uh… with who?”

“Some guy from work’s friend… or something like that.” Sooah looks from Hoseok to Jimin, piecing together what may have just happened. “Why?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Just asking. We’re sure the guy’s not dangerous or anything?” He catches sight of Jimin’s raised eyebrows and gives him a look. “I’ve known her since she was a kid; it’s not so weird to wonder if she’s out alone at night with some tool.”

“He’s probably not a tool,” says Sooah after a moment. 

Hoseok nods thoughtfully. “Okay, then. Don’t forget about karaoke. Midnight.” With that, he leaves.

Sooah raises her eyebrows. “I’ll have what he’s having,” she says dryly.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” says Jimin, cutting to the chase, hearing the accusation in his voice.

“Taehyung and I are friends.”

He gives her a look. “How come Alex isn’t here? Is he working?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, he is. But the reason he’s not here is because we broke up. Because of you,” she adds, smiling calmly.

Jimin scoffs incredulously. “Wow. You know, I can’t wait to hear how this is my fault.”

Sooah sighs. There’s no part of her that thought she could get away with not having this conversation tonight. There’s a big enough part of her that wants to. Chaeyoung seems to know what’s going on - even Alex, bless his heart, seemed to have a decent inkling of her reasons for breaking up with him. The only person who doesn’t seem to know it is Jimin and, until a couple of weeks ago, Sooah herself.

“Can we talk somewhere quiet?”

—

The hallway outside Taehyung’s apartment is quieter and - mercifully - centrally heated. They sit beside each other on the marble floor, backs to the wall like it hasn’t been almost a decade in the making.

“You can’t seriously be blaming me for your break-up.” Jimin begins in a low voice, sullenly staring at his pink drink. “That party was… ages ago. He seemed fine at Big Hit after that - and if you’re telling me it’s because we’re exes, then that’s just lame. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Sooah turns to him. “Are you done?” When he doesn’t answer, his side profile looking so different from the one she remembers from their youth that she resists the urge to touch his jaw, she sighs. “He didn’t break up with me. I broke up with him.”

Jimin frowns. “Why? I thought you liked him. And he was nice… ish.”

She ignores this. “It turns out I may have been self-sabotaging my relationship unknowingly, because…” This is embarrassing. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Wait, no.” He holds her back by shoulder even though she hadn’t tried to get up. “You were sabotaging it because of me? What - what did I do?”

“You broke up with me over a text, Jimin. That’s what you did,” she blurts, shaking her head and looking away.

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Sooah…” He sighs, and she doesn’t know if she’s imagining the note of annoyance in it. “It’s been five years, Sooah. You can’t tell me that’s why -”

“Yeah, I know it’s been five years,” she interrupts. “Five years since you went from normal guy to idol, from the guy who walked me home from school to the guy who… couldn’t even tell me he was going away on tour until he was leaving,” she mutters, feeling the old resentment flair up again.

“Sooah…”

“And you never even apologised,” she interrupts again. “You just went on with your life. No, you know what?” she continues when he opens his mouth. “I get why you would want to break up. It was probably too hard and you were too busy and even though I think I could’ve handled it,” she clarifies, holding up a hand, “I think I deserved a conversation. I thought we were… close enough for that,” she finishes in a small voice.

Jimin is quiet. Sooah swallows, but she can’t bring herself to regret this outburst. It feels cathartic to get this out; anything beyond this is in Jimin’s hands.

“Sooah.” He pauses, but his voice is heavy with ghosts of the past. “I didn’t think I could tell you, okay?” he says, head bent low.

“Why not?”

“Because you were Kim Sooah, and you would’ve found someone else like that.” He snaps his fingers, sounding sullen - and mildly embarrassed. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it was hard for me, too? Knowing that I’d be gone and you would be here with… options?”

He sounds hurt, not meeting her eyes. Sooah stares at him, then slaps his shoulder - hard.

“What the fuck?”

“No, I get to say that!” she retorts, sitting on her knees and facing him. “What the hell do you mean by options? Did you think I would cheat on you?”

“No! Just that you were - you…” He winces, struggling. “You were Kim Sooah!”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“That you were you!” Jimin exclaims, looking hassled. “You didn’t need to wait around for someone who would never be there! You deserved better, you could do better and it honestly wouldn’t have taken long for you to find that out! Call me selfish, but I didn’t want to be halfway around the world and get a text from you, saying you were dating someone else,” he finishes, panting slightly.

She raises her eyebrows incredulously. “So you texted me first instead?”

“Yes. It sucked, but it was still better than finding out you were dating Daehyun or something.”

“If you bring up Daehyun one more time, I’m going to throw my drink in your face, Park Jimin.”

“You wouldn’t dare. This is Gucci.”

“Try me.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, jaws clenched with shared emotion. Sooah’s eyes roam over his face, his sharp jawline, the pouty lips - and she can’t fathom how the cocky rookie idol she was in love with, millions of girls at his feet, still didn’t know what he was.

“I’m sorry, Sooah.”

She nods, sitting back down on her hips, her shoulders touching his comfortably. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Is that why you broke up with Alex?” he mumbles a few moments later. “You thought he’d break up with you over a text?”

It’s a reductive way to put it, but Sooah simply shrugs. “He didn’t have the time, anyway. He needed to focus on his work.”

“Speaking as someone who needed to focus on the same work,” he says hesitantly, his hand brushing the corner of hers on the floor, “you were always worth it.”

She bites her lip, glad he can’t see her face - or her blush. “Don’t get cheesy on me, Chim,” she murmurs, looping her pinky with his. 

“I love this song,” he says, referring to the changing track inside the house, only muffled sounds reaching them. “Dance with me?”

“Not nearly drunk enough for that.”

“Let’s fix that, then.” He gets to his feet gracefully and tugs at her wrist. “I know where Taehyung keeps the expensive vodka.”

—

It’s almost eleven pm when Yoongi, after his second scotch, fishes out his pack of cigarettes. He looks up to see Taehyung bopping towards him with a tumbler of whiskey in one hand.

“Hyung!” Still bopping, he turns to stand next to Yoongi and throws an enthusiastic arm over his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“For a smoke. Want to come?”

“Oh. No. I’m trying to quit.” Taehyung deliberately averts his gaze from the pack and Yoongi’s eyes flicker to Dilara standing with Kaya at the far end of the room.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in -“ Yoongi stops abruptly in his tracks when he sees a familiar figure. “Not that I care,” he begins, feeling oddly calm, “but who invited Kang freaking Chanel to this party?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and turns to the door to see Miso walking in, slender shoulders slightly hunched and taking in the demeanour with a blank expression as she enters with what looks like her date, someone Yoongi recognises from the marketing department. They don’t even acknowledge each other; her eyes scan the crowd cursorily and she pokes her tongue into her cheek, as though she’s already thought of five different things she doesn’t like about this party.

Already irritated, Yoongi turns to Taehyung for an answer.

“It’s a party, hyung,” is all he says, shrugging and clinking their glasses encouragingly. “I know she’s not your favourite person, but I think you two could be friends, too. She reminds me of you sometimes.” He grins and walks away to greet Miso, oblivious to Yoongi’s annoyance.

He needs a smoke more than ever now. He goes to the balcony, braving the freezing air, and gets through two whole cigarettes before his fingers turn to ice and he’s forced to return to the party. Miso is at the bar now, holding a drink and surveying the crowd with mild interest. Her date is nowhere to be seen.

Yoongi walks over to her, suddenly empathising with Jimin’s annoyance at Taehyung’s popularity. She spots him just as he reaches her.

“I really didn’t expect to see you here,” he says dryly. “Having fun?”

“Tons,” she answers. Her hair is partly pulled back; there’s something different about her face but he can’t quite put his finger on it. “I didn’t expect to be here either.”

“Taehyung says you’re friends.”

“He’s being generous. I was looking forward to seeing you, though,” she adds innocently. “At a party, surrounded by people. Out of your natural habitat.”

Yoongi knows better than to be offended, especially as she looks far more out of place than she does. “You knew I’d be here,” he states.

“Well, I guessed, since you and Taehyung are in a band and all together,” she replies seriously, as though having deduced something major. “One which is famous for many things, including being attached at the hip for three hundred days of the year.”

“You think we get sixty-five days off in the year?” He scoffs. “That’s being generous.”

Miso mock-gasps. “Min Suga complaining about work? After the high, high horse he was on a few days ago when I dared to whine about pulling an all-nighter?” She clicks her tongue, ignoring Yoongi’s roll of the eyes. “Where’s your passion, Yoongi?”

“In a studio, or a stage somewhere.” He finishes the last sip of his scotch, barely feeling the burn anymore. “Can’t stand the press junkets, if I’m being honest.”

To his surprise, she simply nods and says nothing more. She’s wearing make-up, he realises with a start. Her eyes are lined and her lips are a slightly different colour; something about the fact that she’s made an effort surprises Yoongi.

“Am I the only one at this party drinking scotch?” she asks after a moment, glancing at the bottle on the bar. “Or one of two. It looks untouched.”

Yoongi, who was just about to pour himself a third, pauses and picks up the whiskey instead. “Probably.”

“Don’t you have anyone else you’d rather be hanging out with at this party?”

“Probably,” he repeats. “But it’s Taehyung’s party and I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I left one of his guests alone. Or a very good boss,” he adds.

A brief grin flashes across Miso’s face but doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good to know you take all aspects of your job so seriously. Must be why you’re such a good boss.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you work hard all your life for something with nothing to lose.”

“Obviously, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Obviously.”

There’s a momentary pause that can go either way that they’re both used to by now. “You know, you really don’t have to stand here with me,” she repeats flatly. “If I’m pulling you away from something else.”

“No offence, but I’m probably the closest thing you have to a friend at this party.”

“None taken. This isn’t the kind of get-together I’d expect to have any friends at anyway.”

Is any? But Yoongi resists the urge to ask, knowing it’ll serve no purpose but to sour his mood even further. He could almost cry with relief when Namjoon walks over to them, nodding politely at Miso.

“Good to see you, Namjoon,” she says, raising her glass in response.

“You, too, of course.” He smiles his camera smile, and Yoongi almost gags. “Having a good time?”

“Yes, absolutely. Yoongi has been keeping me company.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart to Yoongi’s stony expression, the smile still frozen on his face. “That’s… so Yoongi.”

“It is.” She places her empty glass on the bar behind her. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to find the ladies’ room.” With a brief smile, she sidles away.

“Kill me now,” mutters Yoongi, finishing the rest of his drink in one go.

Namjoon suppresses a snort. “You don’t have to hang out with her. Didn’t she come with someone?”

Yoongi shrugs noncommittally when Kaya joins them, coming up from behind her boyfriend. “Hey, guys,” she says, sounding a bit like she’s panting and leaning slightly into Namjoon’s side. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” answers Yoongi.

“What’s up?” Namjoon asks, placing an automatic hand on her back. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” She fluffs out her hair. “Do you guys know the guy over there?” she asks nonchalantly, running a hand down the hem of her navy blue dress. “The one standing by the speaker, in the green jacket?”

Both Yoongi and Namjoon turn to look, spotting the bottle green jacket and the man wearing it, drinking a beer by himself and looking vaguely in their direction.

Yoongi meets his eyes for a fraction of a second before the guy looks away. “He’s in the marketing team, I think.”

“Oh.” Kaya nods. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Not really,” says Namjoon, frowning. “Why?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No reason.” She reaches for Namjoon’s drink which he lets go of absently. Yoongi notices their eyes meet briefly - knowingly - and Namjoon’s jaw clench slightly as he looks back in the same direction.

Yoongi looks at the floor and closes his eyes, feeling for the familiar shape in his pocket. He needs another smoke.

“Aye, hyung,” comes Hoseok’s voice, just before he steps outside. “You’re staying for karaoke, right?”

“Sure. Do I have to sing?”

“Everybody has to sing.” Hoseok flashes him a grin and pats his shoulder. “See you then.” Leaving Yoongi to himself, he makes his way over to Jimin and Sooah, both in a remarkably better mood than they were before.

“Hyung!” Jimin spots him and waves him over, the other hand holding Sooah’s as she stumbles to the music. “How’s it going?”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows in appreciation, for up close, both of them are also far more drunk than they were before. 

“You should be dancing with Jimin,” chimes in Sooah before Hoseok can answer. “Because I’m totally out of my depth.”

Jimin bursts out laughing and they dissolve into giggles. Hoseok doesn’t bother suppressing a smile, giving Jimin a knowing nudge when Sooah’s phone rings in her pocket.

“Oh, it’s Chae!” she exclaims before answering it. “Hey! Happy new year! I mean -“ She turns to Jimin and whispers loudly over the music. “What’s today’s date?”

“New year’s eve!”

“Are you sure?”

“No, wait -“ Jimin’s eyes go wide as he thinks about it, during which Hoseok smoothly snatched the phone from Sooah’s limp hand.

“- don’t want to go with him,” comes Chaeyoung’s voice, sounding slightly panicked. “Could you send me the number of that cab company? The one you said you used for those guests? It’ll be expensive but at least I can -“

“Wait, you’re not taking a cab in the middle of the night,” blurts out Hoseok without thinking.

“What the hell?” There’s a pause before she speaks again. “Hoseok? How did you - where’s Sooah?”

“She’s… occupied,” he says, glancing sideways at the owner of the phone, now engaged in a forehead-flicking game with Jimin. “Where are you?”

“I’m… with a friend.” The hesitation in her voice is unmistakable, like she’s hiding something from a parent. “I just wanted a number from Sooah -“

“I know you’re on a date, Chaeyoung,” he interrupts, feeling his stomach squirm uncomfortably. “Did he… is something wrong? Do you need to be picked up?”

“I -“ Her pause is enough of an answer. “I don’t want to put you out,” she says at last. “I mean, I’m fine. I just… want to leave.”

“Text me your address. And send me your live location,” he adds before hanging up and placing the phone in Sooah’s hand.

Hoseok has never been more glad that he hasn’t had a single thing to drink all night. His tolerance is nothing to brag about in any case and he wants to be alert for karaoke, his favourite section of any party. The atmosphere was enough to create a buzz in him, all of which got channelled straight into driving through the streets of Seoul until he reaches Chaeyoung’s location.

Chaeyoung is exactly where her location said when he left Taehyung’s house, meaning she hasn’t moved since then. The street is choked with traffic, though, so he parks a little way away and sets off the last three hundred metres on foot, jogging until he sees her sitting at a bus stand outside a pub. There’s a small frown on her forehead as she looks around which fades instantly the moment she spots him.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing she says when he reaches her. She stands up and pulls her coat around her. “And thank you.”

“Are you okay?” Hoseok is about to grab her shoulders but stops himself. Her cheeks are flushed - hopefully from the cold - and her silver hoops move as she nods.

“I’m fine,” she reassures him, but still sounds shaky. “I just want to go home and -” She shudders. “I don’t want to go home with him.”

Hoseok doesn’t either. In a rare moment of relief and exasperation, he takes a step forward and hugs her with one arm, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“I know you were a party,” she tries again as they begin walking, “and I wouldn’t have asked you -”

“You didn’t. Now stop apologising.” Hoseok slows his pace when he notices her heels. “What happened with your date, though? Did he… try something?”

Chaeyoung shakes her head, not looking at him. “No. Worse.”

A fear grips at his heart. Struggling to keep his voice steady because he doesn’t want to scare her, he tries again. “What - what happened?”

She looks up at him, considering it. “You’ll make fun of me,” she says finally, eyes narrowed. “Or worse, you’ll agree with him. And then I’ll have to jump into the river.”

“You can’t swim.”

“Exactly.”

Somewhere, Hoseok’s heart starts to slow down. This is most Chaeyoung thing, really, and he can’t understand if he’s relieved or annoyed. “I promise I won’t make fun of you,” he states. “And if it was really bad, I’ll beat him up. Okay?”

Chaeyoung gives him a small smile. “That’s sweet. But he’s twice your size.”

“Fine. I’ll get Jungkook to do it, then. I can probably bribe him with a popsicle.” He’s glad she half-chuckles at that. “Why won’t you just tell me? I really don’t think I would agree with him,” he says after a moment.

She observes for a few seconds, then takes a deep breath. “He said… he said I was too loud.”

That’s not what he was expecting. “What?”

“He said I was too loud and -” She sighs, and the words come out faster. “Part of me gets it because he’s not the first person to say it, but part of me also had to - I mean, the music was already loud in there and he wouldn’t be able to hear me -”

“Wait, he really said you were too loud?”

“Actually, I think his real problem was that I was talking too much.” She winces in embarrassment, eyes still on the ground. 

“What did he say?”

“He said that I was talking too much.” She shakes her head. “And then, of course, I got self-conscious about it and started practically counting the number of words I was saying - it just threw me off completely.” 

Hoseok chuckles without humour and glances at Chaeyoung, who’s looking up at him doubtfully. “Okay, first of all? He’s a loser. If he can’t take it, then… he’s a loser. Second of all,” he continues, “you don’t talk all that much.”

Her eyes widen in hope. “Really?”

He pauses. “Okay, maybe you talk a little more than the average person but - but -” He repeats, squeezing her shoulders as she gasps and drops her face into her hands, “it is a trait that a lot of people find cute and endearing. And if he’s not one of them, then he’s not the guy for you,” he finishes.

“You think it’s cute and endearing?”

“I mean. Theoretically.” He shrugs awkwardly. “Sure. You just have to find the right guy for that. And he’s around here somewhere.”

“And I need to stay away from the guys who think it’s annoying.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Great. So that’s him and… well, you.” She laughs sarcastically. “Two guys on the list. Perfect.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes as they near his car. This conversation took a very different turn from where his mind had gone when she’d called Sooah; the fear he’d felt  is only just occurring to him. 

“Walk on the inside of the pavement,” he mutters, holding her shoulders and moving to her other side. “And you’re not that annoying.”

“I’m not?”

“No,” he mutters, beeping his car open and going to the driver’s seat as she goes the other way. 

“So you find it cute and endearing?”

“Don’t push it.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes but looks marginally more cheerful as she straps herself in. “Wait, how do you know my address?” she asks, frowning at the GPS on the screen.

“Because I came to your house.” He glances at her as he reverses. “For your roommate’s party, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. That was so long ago, though.”

Hoseok doesn’t answer and Chaeyoung doesn’t push. It takes them about twenty minutes to get to her apartment in Hongdae and he has the same sense of foreboding as he did the last time at the sight of her desolate neighbourhood that just screams unsafe.

“Um…” He clears his throat as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Is your roommate home?”

“Sungmi?” Chaeyoung shakes her head. “She’s staying at her boyfriend’s. She’s been doing that a lot lately - I think they’re planning to move in together which seems like a mistake, honestly. He smokes way too much and she can’t even -”

“Wait, you’re going to be alone?”

She frowns, a little peeved at being interrupted. “Yeah. I’m a big girl. I know how to lock my front door.”

Hoseok purses his lips and nods slowly. “Okay,” he begins, looking her right in the eye. “Do not bite my head off when I say this… but is there anyone else you can stay with tonight?”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth, then sighs. “It’s almost midnight. I can’t just barge into somebody’s house.”

“This is not a safe neighbourhood,” he implores. “You know that, right?”

Her momentary silence and aversion of her gaze tells him she knows. “I don’t have any other -”

“Can I take you to my apartment?”

Her eyes widen. “Oppa, you’ve - you’ve done enough for me tonight. I can’t ask you to -”

“You’re not asking. I’m asking.” He stares at her, hoping she won’t be Chaeyoung about this. “Can I take you home? So that you aren’t alone in your empty apartment, without your questionable roommate in an shady part of the city?”

“I -” She bites her lip uncomfortably. “Won’t that be weird? Me, squatting in your house while you’re off at a party? It’ll be like I’m using you.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You stayed over at Sooah’s last month.”

“Yeah, but that’s because it was late and we were drinking. Oh, and she was actually there,” she adds dryly.

He sighs, knowing how stubborn she can be about this. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but I was looking for a reason to get out of that party, so…” He shrugs. “This seems like a good one.”

“No way.” Chaeyoung shakes her head. “It’s your friend’s birthday, you can’t possibly -”

“Yeah, I can. Everyone’s just getting wasted and indulging in PDA. There’s nothing for me at that party. Honest,” he adds, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “Also… Chan would kill me if -”

“There it is.” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look too annoyed. “Fine. As long as it’s just for Chan.”

There’s a twinkle in her eye when she says it. Hoseok bites his lip and holds her gaze before looking away, thinking privately that karaoke would have to wait for the next party. 

“Only for Chan.”

—

It’s late, and the party has entered the leg of debauchery where some people have started making the decision to go home. 

Yoongi stands with Seokjin and Seulgi, both of whom look appropriately tired for one a.m. He likes Seulgi; he’s sure he’s seen her at Big Hit before but this is the first time he’s properly been introduced and while he knows Seokjin is usually private about his dating life, he can’t help but admire how put together they look. Tall, modest, comfortable in their own skin - and around each other. 

They also know how to exist in comfortable silence, which is why Yoongi can’t help but feel sorry when Seokjin announces they’re going to leave.

“I need my beauty sleep,” he says wryly, “obviously.”

Seulgi glances at her phone and looks up at him. “Do you mind if we stop by Big Hit to pick up a friend? She had to work late. Her apartment is on the way to mine,” she points out.

“Yeah, of course.” Giving Yoongi a small wave, they head out with their fingers interlinked.

Yoongi considers making a move himself. He wants to stop by an electronics store in the morning on the way to the studio and if he’s being honest, this party reached beyond his depth a while ago. He does a once-over of the crowd, looking for Taehyung, but doesn’t see him. He does see Jimin and Sooah, however, passionately bickering as they continuously toss their shiny hair out of their eyes.

Jungkook stands with a girl, looking somewhat awkward but smiling nevertheless. Hoseok is nowhere to be seen, which is odd, given how excited he was about the karaoke session which began and ended without him. Yoongi had been forced into a rap battle with Namjoon, something neither of them wanted but played along with anyway, and the fact that Hoseok escaped it isn’t lost on Yoongi.

Across the living room, he sees Namjoon talking and laughing with a couple of other artists, but every few seconds his gaze darts across the room to Kaya, who’s sitting on a dining chair opposite Dilara. Both the girls look like they’re having fun, with drinks in their hands and talking animatedly, pausing when Taehyung stops by and kneels next to Dilara, clearly asking them if they’re alright.

Both girls nod and they say something, followed by them clinking their glasses and downing their drinks. Taehyung grins and pats Dilara’s thigh, kissing her cheek and going back to the party. Yoongi glances back at Namjoon, who’s now looking furtively at the guy in the green jacket before going back to Kaya, and then to his conversation.

He doesn’t know what it is, whether it’s the fact that Namjoon is being compelled to keep an eye on his girlfriend at a crowded party, or that everything was fine until she got here, but Yoongi finds himself walking down Taehyung’s hallway, checking the rooms for any sign of Miso.

It isn’t until he reaches the end that he opens the door to a dimly lit room with one light switched on, an abandoned video game on the television, and a lone figure at the pool table. Miso, leaning over the table and about to shoot, looks up with a start and relaxes when she sees who it is.

“Is this like a coping thing?” He can’t help but ask. “Finding a pool table wherever you are?”

“You could say that. Although this one is much less crowded than the one at Big Hit.” She aims and shoots, and a bright red ball falls neatly into one of the pockets.

Yoongi closes the door behind him. “Are you playing with yourself?”

“Is that your way of asking me if you can join? You know, as the closest thing I have to a friend here?”

He closes his eyes and counts to five before speaking. He’s sufficiently drunk now, enough that his usual restraint is compromised. 

“Where’s your date?” he asks abruptly.

Miso frowns, moving to another side of the table and taking aim. “My what?”

“Your date. The guy you came with?” Yoongi exhales. “The one in the green jacket.”

“Oh.” She takes aim and shoots, straightening up as another ball rolls into a corner pocket. “He’s not my date.”

“No?”

“No.” 

“You came here with him.”

“I did.” She nods, unfazed. “But I’ve said more words to you tonight than I have to him. Ever.”

Yoongi processes this, his vision swimming slightly. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to focus. “Then… why are you here with him?”

Miso is silent for a moment, taking aim again. But she doesn’t shoot. “Do you know who he is?”

“Yeah. He’s in Marketing.”

“Do you know how he got the job?”

“I’m guessing similar to how you did?”

She chuckles without humour and pockets another ball. The sound of the balls knocking together makes him flinch. “Funny.” She moves past him to stand beside him at the table, and he catches a faint scent of something expensive. “Do you know who his grandmother is?”

It takes Yoongi a few seconds longer than it usually would, but he blames it on the alcohol. Flashes of Big Hit’s most recent advertisements, sponsorship gossip and investor information comes to mind, and he nods.

“He’s a chaebol,” he states.

“Yeah. And his grandmother has recently come into a lot of money that she’s looking to invest… and my father is looking for an investment.” She pauses for a moment longer before bending forward again, this time shooting with force. A purple ball ricochets off one side and rolls into a pocket across the table.

Yoongi bites his lip, so many words coming to his mind but unable to make it out. “And she wants to see her grandson… what? Dating? Married?”

Miso moves to the opposite side of the table and her utter lack of expression seems much more forced now. “As much as I appreciate your interest in my life, Yoongi,” she says quietly, eyes trained on the eight-ball, “we’re not nearly close enough to talk about this yet.”

Yoongi licks his lips, lost for words for once. They’ve clashed before, almost every single time they’ve ever spoken. But she hasn’t quite shut down like this, not even when he’d been to her house - as her date, he realises with a start.

“I wasn’t prying,” he says.

“Yeah, you were.” She moves her arm like she’s about to shoot before apparently rethinking it, and changes her position. “But it’s okay. Can’t alienate the closest thing I have to a friend here, can I?”

Yoongi’s fingers tighten around his glass. It doesn’t seem as though he can ever win with her and it frustrates him beyond belief.

“Well, right now, he’s outside making my actual friend uncomfortable.” The words come out before he can stop them. Miso, who shoots right then, snaps up to look at him and the ball misses the pocket by an inch. “So you might want to tell him to cut it out.”

Her eyes flicker with something. Before Yoongi can process it, she averts her eyes and aims for the eight ball again. “I’m not responsible for him.” She pauses and he can see her jaw clench. “And it’s very telling that I’m the one you choose to warn, not him.”

“I’m not warning -”

He’s interrupted by the loud sound of the balls again, the eight ball making its way into a pocket this time, right next to where his hand is resting on the table. He snatches his hand away out of instinct, by which time Miso has put the cue back and is on her way out.

“Nice talking to you, Min Suga,” she mutters, brushing past him. “See you in the studio tomorrow.”

Yoongi watches her leave, exhaling loudly when she’s out. It’s incessant, the aggravation she inspires in him. With nothing left to say, he aims a kick at Taehyung’s pool table before following her out.

–

Kaya runs a hand through her long hair, forcing her fingers through the tangles at the end. The music has transcended to something older and calmer - if her mind were swimming less, she’d probably be able to identify it. 

As it is, her focus is trained on her feet and their ability to stand straight on her high heels so she doesn’t stumble. She’s admiring a picture of Taehyung’s dog on the mantle when someone else joins her. Her gut warns her before she even registers who it is.

“There you are,” he says, voice the same soft and disconcerting one as before. His English is heavily accented and Kaya tries not to make eye contact. “I love this song.”

She nods noncommittally, taking a step away from him and looking up surreptitiously at where she’d last seen Namjoon, but he isn’t there anymore. She wonders if this person had been keeping tabs on Namjoon, approaching her the one minute he’s nowhere to be seen.

“How about one last drink?”

“No, thanks,” she mutters, panicking slightly when she hears herself slur. She clears her throat and is about to leave when a girl, lanky and i.man all black, comes in between them and grabs his arm.

“Let’s go,” she tells him, her back to Kaya. “It’s late - and you still have to drop me home.”

The guy looks like he’s about to argue for a moment but then sighs and walks away. The girl makes to follow him but not before catching Kaya’s eye.

“Are you okay?” she mutters, pausing. Her English is accented, too, but differently. Kaya’s hazy guess is Australian; she nods anyway.

“Thanks.”

She nods and follows her date out of the party. Kaya exhales, wondering in irritation what this guy’s problem was. She tosses her hair off her neck, feeling flushed, when she feels a pair of hands come on her hips from behind and she jumps.

“Shit,” she gasps, seeing Namjoon behind her and allowing him to pull her to his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, kissing the side of her neck. “Do you want to head out?”

“Yes,” she says instantly, realising how tired she is. “Think I’m partied out for the weekend.”

“Okay. I’m going to grab my jacket from the bedroom - should I get yours, too?”

“Do you know which one it is?”

He gives her an obvious sort of look and departs, returning about a minute later in a leather jacket and with her black coat, slung over his arm.

“Should we say bye to Taehyung?” She asks as he helps her into it. “I saw him just a minute ago -“

“He looks kind of busy.” Namjoon gestures with his eyebrows to where Taehyung and Dilara are in the middle of the living room, two of the handful of people still dancing, arms around each other and kissing without a care in the world as they sway to the music.

It’s unexpected but sweet, especially when they break away for a moment, foreheads touching and mouths moving in soft words only they can hear. It feels like an intensely private moment; Kaya looks away and nudges Namjoon.

“I don’t think he’ll really care if we leave,” she suggests, nodding when he chuckles and turns to the door.

“The magic of brand new relationships,” says Namjoon wisely as they leave, squeezing Kaya’s hand.

Kaya is still thinking about his words when they reach his house. The car drops them at the gate and they walk inside, the quiet night a nice reprieve from the loud party. Most of her focus is on placing one foot ahead of the other, but the remaining is on the sweet scene they’d encountered before leaving.

“Do you think we still have the magic?” She asks curiously, focus still on the ground. “Or do you think it’s faded?”

Namjoon scoffs slightly. “You and me? Of course not.” He tugs at their clasped hands.

She’s glad at how quick his response was, but she can’t help but prod further. “Sure? Because it’s been… almost three years. Wouldn’t be completely unheard of.”

“Do you not remember what we did three hours ago in one of Taehyung’s guest bedrooms?”

Kaya laughs, her stomach fluttering at the memory. She remembers how her heart had hammered against her rib cage just before he’d kissed her in that dark room and she suddenly feels ridiculous for questioning their relationship.

She winces a bit as they continue walking, her feet giving up in the heels. Namjoon’s building is barely a hundred metres away but it feels like miles away.

“You okay?”

“No,” she groans softly, stopping and letting go of his hand so she can place it on his shoulder for support. She picks up one foot after the other off the ground and rolls her ankles. “I can only do about four hours, tops, in these shoes.”

“Do you want to take them off?” he asks. “I’d say no because I can see at least one puddle ahead.”

“No, I can’t take them off,” she mutters, setting both her feet on the ground again and exhaling tightly. “It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Namjoon stays halted as she takes a few steps. “Okay, let the record show that I’m doing this to prove just how much our magic hasn’t gone anywhere,” he announces, coming up to her and gently pulling her by the waist and scooping her legs up with the other arm.

Kaya, who had somewhat expected this, giggles as she puts her arms around his neck and he starts walking. “Very show, not tell of you. Although, I didn’t actually think our magic has gone anywhere.”

“Good. Because I still find you as sexy as I did the day I met you.”

“And I still find you as sexy as I did a couple months later when you tried to glue back my Garfield mug in Amsterdam.”

“I could drop you, you know?”

She laughs again, her mind still swimming but the cold making it feel slightly better. “You would never. Not on purpose, anyway,” she amends as he carefully steps over the one puddle on their way.

“You see?” He says smugly. “I’m more capable than you think. It would have to be something huge to ever get me to - whoa!”

As though the universe has heard him, Namjoon trips over a bump in the road. He swears in Korean as they tumble down in an awkward mass of limbs, Kaya groaning as her hips hit the ground.

"Damn it," mutters Namjoon, breaking his fall with his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She giggles and groans again, stretching her stocking-clad legs and leaning back on her hands. "Can we stay down here for a minute?"

Namjoon raises his eyebrows but nods. "Okay." He rests one arm over her knees, tilting his head fondly at her.

She notices. "I'm drunk," she tells him.

"I know."

“God, Dilara can drink.”

“We’ve discovered that at different points.”

"I love you."

His smile widens, the dimple popping. "I know that, too."

She leans forward slightly. "I love you," she repeats, her eyes flickering, "a lot. It scares me a little sometimes."

He frowns curiously. "Why?"

But she shakes her head. "I'm not that drunk."

"Come on, tell me," he urges, nudging her leg. 

"I -" Kaya sighs and turns to him, fingering his bangs gently. "It would suck to lose you, that's all," she says softly.

"You're not going to," he says, almost instantly.

"Yeah?"

He nods and leans forward to press a kiss to her lips. "You want me to convince you of it?"

She half-chuckles. "But it's nice and cold here."

"Yeah, baby, it's freezing."

"Fine," she agrees, rolling her eyes and holding her arms up so he can help her up and wincing. "Ugh, these shoes are a nightmare."

"You looked sexy as hell, though," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck again.

She giggles. "That makes me feel a little better about how much I spent on them."

"Come on, I'll take you up," he says, sliding a hand underneath her legs and picking her up again. This time, she's prepared as she wraps her arms around his neck.

"You were right," she says as he starts walking.

"I know. About what, though?"

She slaps him lightly on the shoulder and kisses his cheek affectionately. "We haven't lost our magic," she agrees, burying her face in his neck. "Not even a little."

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[queer-boo-radley]

Ok so most of this centers around part 8 (shock i know).

First the thing about signs in the beginning and end still has me flailing. Like holy shit, what a way to tie not only that part together but the rest of the story to! So yeah, still not over that.

So idk how to say it best but just imagine the 'thats growth' meme for Regina, especially in parts 6 , 7, and 8. Regina seems like she's really beating herself up over how she's handled things, which sure havent been the best, but i dont think she's giving herself enough credit. But that may be projecting my wants/desire for someone to love and prioritize and care about me in ways that require a degree of trust i dont have... but we're not going to talk about that! :b

Which is interesting because Emma has some heavy thoughts in part 8: “I feel like I tricked you, Regina,” Emma snapped, stomping her foot and looking up at her with a truly painful expression on her face. “I feel like I manipulated you into getting me out of my family. We met because of me and everything was great and sexy and just what I fucking wanted it to be and I did EVERYTHING I could to make you fall in love with me and now I just keep dumping all of my shit on you and now you feel like you have to do this or-” AND FUCK IF THAT DOESNT MAKE YOU WANT TO WRAP THEM IN BUBBLE WRAP AND PROTECT THEM AGAINST THE WORLD

... if you cant tell im excited to see where they go from this, because unpacking that /trauma/ will be a trip

Oh and the potential Mal/Mulan - look. I may or may not be internally screaming for various reasons. Im super curious to see how Emma and Mulan would interact in a little headspace, both in a playdate/camp in Regina's backyard and at the club.

*flailing* Thank you anon! I'm so glad you appreciate the signs thing. I know it is silly but I'm a really big believer in signs myself and have a little list of superstitions I usually adhere by out of habit and what-ifs lol. And I get it Anon, about the degree of trust thing. That is an incredibly difficult thing to place in anyone. Emma's words there about how she feels like she has tricked Regina kind of mirror my own personal issues with dating in a complicated way so I'm glad that you were able to have that same experience of relating/projecting with Regina lol. Admittedly one of the reasons I've been writing this next part so slowly is because it is going to set up what unpacking trauma and healing will look like for them and I want to do it right. It's very much a, Emma still has a LOT of problems that have to be worked through now and they have to be patient about it. And the Emma/Mulan interaction is going to be hella cute but what I'm very excited to write and have others read is the interactions between Mulan and Regina at the beginning of that section of the fic where they are not friends who play video games and smoke weed together, but a nervous little and a Caretaker who is "responsible" for that little. At least until Mal is like MINE.

Anyways, sorry for the word vomit but talking about my fic helps me write more of it so thank you for the long thought out message to reply to 😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅😅

[grippingbeskar]

not a bad day

part 1 (read part 2 here)

boxing trainer!frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf sexual intercourse, pain kink, mentions of bruising/description of injury) fighting, swearing

a/n: i cannot get frank out of my head and the idea of him helping u at the gym just yeah this has very little plot and is just everyones horny okay! also might make a part two of this let me know if u want that k bye luv u stay safe.

p.s thank you for all the love on the last fic!! so glad ppl enjoyed it and it inspired me to write a couple more ideas for frank so stay tuned! 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You hate today. Of all the very bad, no good shitty days you’ve had, today takes the cake. Which is why you are currently hitting the absolute crap out of the poor punching bag in the back corner of the gym, hoping to get rid of even a small part of that bubbling anger that is threatening to explode.

First, your car broke down. Fine, things happen, your cars a piece of shit anyways. So you take the bus, only its raining and you didn’t bring an umbrella, so you run down the street in the pouring rain, chasing the only bus that would get you to work on time, only for the driver to look straight at you in the rear view mirror, arms flailing like a mad woman, and drive off, making sure to rev the wheels in the puddle next to you, flicking dirt and loose concrete all over your pale yellow dress.

Then, when you finally trudge into your office building, half an hour late and soaking wet, you see your boss. Immediately he yaps your ear off about the story your writing, and how it needs to be finished by Friday, as if you haven't been working here for years and dont know the cut off date for weekly run. You placate him, determined not to let your day be ruined at nine in the morning, when you see a team of exterminators in your office, pulling years worth of sealed documents and important files out of boxes and throwing them in the bin. It was then your boss finally decided to get to his point, saying the room was found to have an entire clan of small mice living in its walls, and they needed to gas the floor.

So, you try to save all your important work and cart it three floors down, only to find every room taken, and you end up spending your day on the floor of a supply closet, fanning out the poison stained files from your first story at New York Bulletin and definitely inhaling dangerous chemicals. It was about halfway into your day, when attempting to seperate two documents that were stuck together by liquid, that you gave up on your optimism, when you were interrupted by a phone call from your landlord telling you your apartment has flooded, and while your things were mostly okay, you would have to rent a hotel room for the next two weeks, and he ‘wouldn't be able to swing’ the cost of it as the flooding ‘wasn't technically under his jurisdiction’. You didn’t even bother going home to check your place, getting off the bus two stops early and stomping straight into the gym, seemingly the only place you can find any peace these days.

That was mainly thanks to your trainer and new found boxing partner, Frank. He was new around town, you only met him a couple of weeks ago. You dont know much about him other than he has a mean swing and is an ex marine, but he’s been helping you perfect your form for free, so you dont ask a lot of questions. Your gym is big, big enough to have an entire upper floor just for boxing and MMA training, the lower levels full of weights and machines. Usually you do a bit of cardio or strength before coming up to practise with Frank, but today you just needed to hit something, slipping in your headphones and whacking the bag as hard as you can. Your musics blaring and you dont even hear him come up behind you, and you yelp slightly when a strong hand rests on your bent elbow, stopping it mid swing. With your other hand you yank the string on your headphones, the wires falling to the ground in front of you. 

“You still gotta work on those chicken arms. Elbows in.” His body is just far back enough to not press against you, and you find yourself wanting to step into him, just to feel how warm his body would feel against yours. Yes, you had a crush on him, but it was just that. A crush. You can handle yourself. His hand slides up to your bicep and presses lightly, your arm coming down in the correct form. His fingers are rough and calloused, but somehow feel smooth against your skin, trailing a light line of heat where they touched. Okay, maybe you can’t handle yourself.

Frank, on the other hand, hasn’t been in control for weeks. Ever since that first day, him wandering in to the first gym he’d seen, his apartment being too small for him to get a proper workout in, he saw you beating the shit out of this very punching bag, and he doesn’t remember a time he saw anything sexier. You had pretty poor form, but the power was there, and it was practically calling his name. He didn’t even pick up a weight, shooting straight up the stairs and standing behind the bag you were hitting, absorbing your punch so the bag didn’t move. It came off as sweet, maybe even thoughtful, but all Frank was thinking was how fucking hot it would be for you to actually hit him, and every punch you threw at the bag made his pants a little tighter.

He was on to you then, striking up a conversation about how to get more power behind yourself, and eventually, after learning your schedule by coming to the gym every day around the same time, it became habit. If he didn’t seek you out, you started to come to him, seeing you strut up behind him in the mirror as he lifted weights or hold down on his ankles as he was doing pull ups. His training used to be business only, it was almost in his job description to be fit, but you made it fun, and he found himself looking forward to every session.

“Im not exactly in the mood for a tutoring session, Castle.” You bit back, taking a couple more swings, but taking his advice and keeping your elbows in.

“But you felt the difference in those ones, didn’t you?” He comes around to face you, leaning on the wall in the corner behind the bag. You huff and continue hitting, the wraps on your knuckles beginning to come loose. “Bad day?”

“You dont know the half of it.” He just nods and his head tilts slightly, watching the way your abs tense with every punch, the small gap of skin between your sports bra and high waisted tights like a pinch of heaven to him. Your body is thrown behind every swing, and he smiles a little, unable to help how proud of your improvement he is, knowing you take on what he teaches. He can see the difference in just a couple weeks, the bag no longer a suitable opponent for your skill level.

“Wanna take it out on me?” Frank says lowly from behind the bag, and you can’t see his face when he says it, the blurred black of the swinging bag blocking him. You stop and search for his gaze, finding it on you as you stop the bag in the air and set it straight.

“What?” He nods his head, motioning behind you.

“In the ring.” Holy shit. You need to calm down. Your mind went a thousand different places, but for some reason the giant roped off ring in the room behind you wasn’t one of them. You’ve only been in there a couple times, usually its closed off for the pros to train in, or someone has already claimed it, the locks only accessible from the inside once you enter. If its unlocked, however, anyone can claim it until the next hour, and looking up, the clock just ticked over to eight.

“Yeah. Okay.” Your anger has diminished only slightly at the sight of Franks sweaty abdomen, the image certainly softening you as he leads you into the room, flicking on the lights and locking the door behind you. “I dont even think Ive been in here before. Have you?”

“Couple a’ times. Gotta show the boys how its done, right?” You roll your eyes and he laughs, the sound echoing around the cement room.

“This isn't fair. You know I dont box.” You swing your body under the ropes and when you straighten, Frank is considerably closer than you thought he would be. He reaches out a hand and takes your own in his, tightening the wraps around them. Its always stronger when he does them for you.

“Dont worry, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you.” That fucking name. He’s called you that a couple of times, when he’s teasing you, but every time your cheeks flush and you have to avoid his gaze. Even through your pent up anger from today, the name slips through and nestles straight in your stomach, waking dormant butterflies and sending them crazy. You just shake your head and step back, remembering the stance he taught you. Legs shoulder width apart, right foot back, heel off the ground slightly. You bend your knees a little and take a few steps in either direction, testing your stability and giving yourself time to collect your scattered brain, looking up at him.

“Good. Now seriously, Im not going to hit you.” You open your mouth to say something, but he raises one finger, and you huff before letting him continue. “Ill tap you if your hands drop, like this.” He puts his fists up, and with the left hand that hangs in front of his face, he opens it and pushes your head in the opposite direction. Its not hard, barely a percent of his strength. “That okay?”

“Its annoying. But fine.” It was annoying, and you make a point to keep your hands up as he explains so he doesn't do it again. “Should I do the same?” You dont want to hit him, although you would be surprised if you were even able to land a punch, let alone do any real damage, but you still dont want to try. He just smiles at you from behind his fists.

“You hit me as hard as you can.” Your eyes go wide and you begin to protest.

“Frank you-”

“Trust me. I can take it.”

“But I-”

“I can take it. Hit me.” He grits out, and he almost sounds gravelly. You shrug your shoulders and he nods, both of you moving to the right and you punch first, aiming a hit on his ribcage. He blocks it easily, and you go to adjust, but his hand reaches up and pushes your face in the opposite direction, making you stumble. You look up at him, deadpanning.

“Frank.”

“You hit like shit, and you move too slow. C’mon.” Shaking it off you fix yourself in front of him again, moving to the left this time. The anger you felt at your shitty day simmers low in your gut, at least thats what you think it is, and you take a step into him and land a punch in the middle of his chest. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, your pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. “What was that?”

“A punch?” You screw your eyebrows together and stand up straight, dropping your hands.

“No it wasn’t. It was shit; again.” He hasn’t dropped his stance and you let out a sigh. Your not going to try and hit him like that, no matter how angry at the world you are, you would never take that out on him.

“Frank, even if your being all macho about this, Im not going to try and hit you. I’ll hurt you.” Your hand goes to your hip.

“You could never hurt me.” He says, his voice not faltering for a second. You dont know why you interpret it any other way than a teasing play on your ability to box, but it makes your heart stutter in your chest. He obviously wants this, and as nervous as it makes you, you kind of want to see if you can land an actual hit on this guy, at the very least to get your hands on his sculpted chest one way or the other. “Hit. Me.”

“Okay. You have to tell me if I hurt you though, okay?” You get back into position, looking down at your feet to make sure you have your width right.

“You suggestin’ we need a safe word, sweetheart?” Your jaw drops open slightly and a scoff comes out. He was going to send you into cardiac arrest.

“Lets fight then, big guy.” You both move to the right again, and Frank moves fast, getting around behind you, leaving you a little off guard as you turn. His hand comes up and pushes your face. You huff.

“Focus.” Blowing a hair out of your face, you are already sweating, your previous workout coming at you like a ton of bricks. He moves again and you see your chance, getting low and landing a strong punch into his abdomen, using your body to gain power this time. You dont go full out, but you land it with enough strength you hear a little wind come out of him. Satisfied, you come straight back up, keeping your hands in front of you. “Good. Again.”

You step into him and uppercut into his stomach, stepping back quickly. You look down for a split second to adjust your feet but his hand is already there, shoving you and you realise you dropped your hands. Its pissing you off faster than it should, and if you just kept your damn hands up you wouldn't have to worry, more angry at yourself than him.

“Stop that.” You growl at him and move to the left.

“Stop lettin’ me.” Asshole.

Frank watches in awe from behind his fists at that little spark that comes across your gaze, and he knows he’s got you. It was a little game at first, but now he’s had a taste of that anger, a taste of that sweet pain that comes with the force of you against him, and he knows he sick for craving more. You dont hesitate this time as you ram your fist into his ribs, the hardest you’ve hit him yet. It knocks some of the wind out of him, and he sucks in a breath. Damn, that was fucking hard. Almost as hard at the erection he’s currently sporting, thanking all the gods listening that he decided to wear track pants over his gym shorts, at least they cover up his dignity a little. He wants all of your anger, all that rage you buried into the bag outside the ring, so as soon as he sees your hands drop just a little, he shoves your face again, a little harder.

“Frank! My fucking hands were up.” You grumble at him, planning your next move. You were pissed off now, and if Frank wanted to fuck with you, you were going to fuck with him right back. 

“If they were up I wouldn’t have got you. Again.” His voice sounds dry and low, and if you weren't so riled up you would think it was sexy. No, you do think its sexy, but you cant think about it right now. You step left and hit him again, in the same spot in his ribs. His hand comes up to the left of your face and you block, only to feel him push you on the right.

You say nothing, and instead physically wind up and let your right fist crash into the same spot for a third time. You put all your weight behind it, getting low and swivelling your body, feeling every muscle tense as you collied with his ribcage. He groans and his fists drop, leaning back into the ropes you now realise you backed him into. 

Immediately you regret it. You knew you shouldn't have even gotten in the ring if your head wasn’t on straight, but Frank is so easy to listen to you, and he looked so damn good. Instantly you dont feel angry anymore, the relief replaced by guilt as you look at him, one hand holding his rib and the other leaning on the rope, head hung low.

You move to him, cupping his face in your hands and bringing his gaze to you. Your face is screwed up with worry and his eyes are almost glazed over.

“Frank! Jesus, are you okay? Im so sorry I dont even know-”

“That was fuckin’ perfect. Perfect.” He smiles up at you like some kind of sadist and the hand holding his rib comes to your hip, pulling you closer so that you can feel the sweat of his abdomen against the small part of skin between your bra and tights.

“Are you okay?” You whisper. You dont know why you do, but somehow the proximity you both share makes you feel the need to be quiet, any noise may set this moment alight, and you dont want to be anywhere but pressed against Franks bare chest, panting each others air.

“Never better.” He steps into you, forcing you to take a step back. Then two. You can only focus on the sound of his slightly strained breath in your ear and your hands leave his face, coming to rest on his chest as you reach the centre of the ring. “Again.” You step back and you dont miss the twang of disappointment when his hand comes off your hip.

“No. Im not hitting you again.”

“What makes you think you can, huh? Think I wasn’t going easy on ya?” You know he’s baiting you, and you cant figure out why. Maybe he just wants to piss you off, or maybe he thinks you fight better when your angry, but either way its working and you put your hands up. “Theres my girl.” His slight accent and the way his smile curls up the side of his face reminds you that now you dont feel angry, you start to feel... other things. You step back again, distancing yourself.

You swing a hook with your left hand and he moves just out of reach. You hear him laugh a little, so you swing again, at his head this time. You connect with the arm that comes up to block, and you can feel the strength of his arm under your knuckles. 

“So close.” He says as you shuffle forward, and you have to grind your teeth to keep composure. You dont know what it is about him, but everything he does right now is making the ball of tension in your stomach coil tighter and tighter. He’s always been able to elicit some kind of reaction from you, but its always been in a public place, other eyes on you preventing you from thinking too much about the way he looks at you, his eyes analysing your every move as you practise a new block. Or how hard and perfect his body feels against you as he teaches you a new take down, warm skin burning you in his hold. You put all of your brain power into your next moves, trying to think of literally anything else as he easily evades you.

Frank doesn’t know why he does it, and it takes all of his self control to move out of the way of your hits, his mind telling him to just let you hit him every time so he could feel you that close again. Backed up against the ropes, your hands on his face, when he finally wrapped his hand around the hip that had been the object of his fucking imagination for weeks. He’s going insane, that must be the reason he can’t form a coherent thought as you step to him, matching every move he makes. Your good, he knows that because he taught you, and every time you miss he can tell you only get more aggressive, still in control but you come at him with more fire, and the anticipation of when you inevitably collied with him is almost better than the actual hit. Frank is distracted by you, all of you moving and flexing in front of him, attention devoted to him, that when you connect a right jab to his chest, it knocks him back. 

This time you dont check on him, you just come again, landing a left hook to his side. He doesn’t have time to recover and you hit him again, another right jab. He’s backed into a corner and you punch again, but his right arm grabs your wrist, yanking you against him. You can feel his heartbeat in your own chest, and he’s breathing hard, nearly as wiped out as you. 

“That all you got?” he purrs in your ear, and he swears he can see the final straw break. You are faster than he thought, and using the hold he has on your wrist you swing him over your shoulder. Using his own strength against him, just like he taught you, you flip him over and he lands on his back, hitting the matt with a hard whack. 

Your on him simultaneously, both legs straddling either side of his ribcage, and your forearm comes down on his chest, using all your strength to hold him down. The only sounds that fill the empty room is the quiet ticking of the clock and Frank underneath you, wheezing a little under your body.

“You gonna tap out, Castle?” Hell yeah you are cocky, the giant mass of man underneath you making you feel a lot more accomplished than you thought. You don’t care that he was probably letting you throw him down, you still did it without any help, only ever completing the move  before when Frank coached you through it. He just looks up at you and smiles. “What?”

“I taught you that.” He says, and you take your forearm off him and sit back on his abs, laughing. When you sit back both of his hands come up and rest on your thighs. You stop laughing and look down at him, your ponytail falling to the side of your face.

Frank thinks you look like some kind of angel. Your hair is all frayed and pulled out in places and it frames your face so perfect, and theres a light above your head that sits directly above you, shining down and lighting you up, every bead of sweat glistening on your body, and his eyes catch on one that slides down the valley of your chest, disappearing under the tight confines of your bra. He tightens the grip on your thighs and he feels you shift on top of him, and he nearly groans at the sensation.

“Why were you so angry today?” Frank breaks the silence under you, and yo dont know why you haven’t gotten up yet, but his hands wrap  around your thighs, almost taking up the entire space of them.

“Just a really bad day. My boss is a dick and my office building has rats. Oh! My car broke down and I was late, too. And it was raining. ” You could feel the tension falling from your shoulders as you sat on top of Frank and told him about your day, somehow never feeling more natural. “Dont even get me started on my apartment. Probably have nothing left.”

“You got robbed?” Frank tenses under you and you shake your head and put a hand on his chest.

“No. Flooded, though. Cant stay there for two weeks. I came straight here.” You shake your head thinking about how ridiculous your situation is. 

“No wonder you hit me so hard.” He laughs under you and you resist the urge to swat him.

“Shut up. You asked for it.”

“Yeah, I did.” His hand slides up your thigh just an inch and the muscles under them tense at his touch. You swallow hard. You cant read his expression, but he just stares at you as he moves his hands another inch higher. “You alright?” He asks, not knowing if he’s talking about your apartment or his wandering hands, but it doesn’t matter because the answer is a desperate yes that you somehow manage to squeak out. He smiles again, that half smirk thing he does when you finally figure out whatever he is teaching you, and your palms start to get sweaty.

“M’ fine.” The ticking of the clock reminds you that you still have 20 minutes of uninterrupted time alone with him, and it suddenly doesn’t feel long enough.

“You dont look fine.”

“I dont?” He shakes his head and his fingers splay across you, squeezing lightly. It feels good on your tight muscles and you drop the last of your weight on top on him, relaxing.

“You seem strung out. Need to relax.” He’s no longer looking at you, murmuring his words under his breath and his eyes roam your body, taking in every minuscule detail that rests on top of him.

“I thought thats why we were fighting?” Your voice is small, and his fingers tighten and relax on your thigh, massaging.

“We were fighting cause you were damn pissed. You still feelin’ angry?” You shake your head, unable to speak. “Good. Just need ya to relax for me now, okay?” Now you nod. 

Frank is straining to control himself, your obedient nods and the way you rest against him, full body weight sinking into him has his cock tenting his pants. He’s damn happy you are facing him right now or you would see just how much you effect him, because he wants this to be about you. As much as he needs you, he can wait a little longer if it means he gets to see you come apart while he watches. Besides, this will be indulging him just as much as you. 

He cant count how many times he’s dreamed of this, of you using him to get your anger out, get rid of all your frustrations. Every day in the gym, no matter if your high off a great day at work or dead tired, you use him as your outlet, and he will take anything and everything you give him, but here, with you on top of him, he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined how you would use him like this. He wanted to drown in you, wanted you to take all that natural dominance you exude in training and suffocate him with it, letting you use him in an entirely new way. The thought of tasting you makes his mouth water, and his hands travel to your hips, squeezing gently.

You were out of breath and dizzy, and the way he held you made you feel things you haven’t felt in years. The past few weeks have been a silent torture, having his body so close but somehow not close enough. His fingers lightly brush the sliver of skin above your tights and slip just below the hem, and you sigh.

“These expensive?” He plays with the hem and you shake your head, the tights being one of the few spare pairs you keep in your locker here for when you can’t be bothered to go home and change first. “Good.” The rip of fabric makes you flinch slightly as he tears the tights off your body, cool air kissing your bare skin, the tattered remains falling to the sides. You are left sitting above him, only in your sports bra and white underwear, thankful you wore something sort of cute today. Your jaw hangs open at his raw strength and it only swirls that tight ball of need in your lower stomach tighter, and the breeze coming from one of the windows reminds you how wet you are and you shiver.

“Frank, w-what are... Jesus. What are you doing?” You cant focus and his hands slide along your skin, coming up and over your hips, fingertips stopping just under your bra and sliding back down, sparks flying everywhere.

“Gonna help you relax. That okay?” 

“Y-yes. Yes.” You are nodding frantically and his hands stop on your hips, and pull you forward, your legs shuffling up his body. You pick up on what he’s doing as he stops you just under his chin, the only thing stopping him from touching you the weight you support in your legs.

“Good girl. Gonna reward you for being so good.” One hand hooks underneath your underwear, and he trails a light line over your centre, making you shudder his name. “You this fuckin’ wet for me already?” He trails is hand over your clit again, and takes the same finger and slides it inside you once, curling and hitting that exact right spot. You moan and he slips out of you, bringing the finger coated with your taste and wrapping his mouth over it, and his eyes flutter closed.

Frank nearly comes in his pants at the taste of you. You are sweet and perfect, more incredible than he could have ever imagined. Your face when he slid into you is etched into his brain forever, and there will never be a day that it doesn’t make him rock fucking hard. The way you react to him makes him think you’ve wanted this just as long as he has, and he doesn’t waste any more time indulging either of your fantasies. He rips your underwear off too, shoving the frayed fabric into the pocket of his track pants. He kisses you once, right where you need him to, both strong hands coming to your bare ass, forcing you down on him. You strain only slightly, not wanting to put your whole weight on him, and he growls under neath you.

“Thought you were gonna be good for me; let me help you.” He kisses your inner thigh and looks up at you.

“I am! But I-”

“Sit.” He’s still staring at you, peppering soft kisses up and down where ever he can reach on your thighs. You trust him, and given what you were just doing, you know he would tell you if there was something he couldn’t handle.

“Okay, just throw me off or something if you need to, please okay?” Your eyes aren’t focusing on anything but him, and you see him smirk and roll his eyes.

“Yeah. Sure. Now c’mere. Lemme give you what you need.” You shuffle a little more and let your legs relax, and he dives into you. One hand remains on your hip while the other slides inside you, two fingers gently caressing that growing need in your stomach. His tongue works you expertly, and your back arches as both your hands come down to grab his hair, pulling and twisting in pleasure.

“Oh fuck! Frankfrankfrankplease!” You dont know what your asking for, just that he is the only one that can give it to you, your hips grinding against his face, feeling his nose lightly brush your clit with each movement.

“That’s is baby. Fuckin’ take it.” He says the words into you and you can feel the heat of his breath on your core. You bite your lip and the hand not in his hair finds the one of his on your hips, grabbing it desperately. He lets go of you and your fingers intertwine, you leaning forward over him unable to hold up your bodyweight. His hand doesn't leave yours and you hold onto him tightly, your hips still moving against his face.

Frank is surrounded by you. Your thighs squeeze his head and keep him perfectly in place between you, and the way you lean over him slightly means he has the perfect view of your face as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers. You move against him without him having to tell you, your natural desires taking over the worry of hurting him. He loves to watch you lose control, and the sweet sounds mixed with his name that leave your mouth make him moan against you.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet. You like usin’ me like this, huh sweetheart?” You nod, or you think you do, but the hand that was inside you comes around the back and grips your ass, tight. “Need to hear it.” He groans into you as his tongue replaces his fingers.

“You - Yes, Frank. Fuck, it feels so good.” You breath and your whole body feels like its on fire, pleasure building in every part of you. You aren’t going to last much longer, his mouth working furiously on you as his hand comes back to join it.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.” His praise is all you want, all you’ll ever need, and you move your hips, pull his hair, try to figure out whatever it is that he wants. “You think you can come for me?” Your eyes are squeezed shut and you nod, all he needs to do is ask you to do it and you will. He has you wrapped around his fingers, literally.

Frank never wants this to end, but somehow he retains the slightest bit of composure to remember the time limit on the gym room only gives him another couple of minutes in paradise. He could spend an eternity between your legs, and he would when he got you home, but right now he needed you to come just as bad as you did. He kept fucking you with his fingers, and when ever he spoke his thumb replaced his mouth, knowing it would ultimately be his words that pushed you over. He could tell you loved his mouth, both on you and speaking all your dirty thoughts back to you, and he loved that it was him and only him you responded to like that.

“Alright baby, I need you to come for me, okay?” You were a whimpering mess above him, hips moving frantically and legs shaking. Your muscles were like jelly and he could feel you tighten around him. You babble out a few words and he thinks he hears his name in between them, and he smiles up at you as your eyes slowly open.

“I know your s’close. Can feel it. Relax for me, okay?” You choke out a moan and pull his hair, tighter than you had before, and he muffles his moan by putting his mouth back on you, wanting to taste you when you finish. 

“Fucking hell! Frank!” You scream his name and your body jerks on top of him as you finally find your orgasm, Franks fingers repeatedly and brutally fucking you through it. His mouth takes in everything you give it, slurping up any evidence of your pleasure, making the most vulgar sounds that only make you cum harder. Your entire head feels fuzzy and your lungs have no air, Franks hands leaving you only to slide into his own mouth, cleaning them off before rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. 

Your hands are still intertwined on your other side and you sit back, your back leaning against his two strong legs that have bent up to create a rest. He sits up, chasing you and kisses your neck lightly.

“You feelin’ better, baby?” You can’t speak, mind still numb, but you nod and he presses a soft kiss to your lips, making your eyes shoot open.

“That was our first kiss.” You stutter, and he just kisses you again, deeper this time.

He whispers in your ear, and you giggle in his hold. “We gotta get out of here, though.” You rest your forehead against his.

“Huh?”

“Thirty seconds and the doors gonna open.” You whip your head around and see the clock reading eight fifty nine. Shit!

“Frank. My tights.” You didn’t even think of it, but you look down at how very naked you were from the waist down, and he picks you up, standing with you in his arms, only setting you down when he’s sure you have found your own footing. He slides down his track pants. You cant help but stare and watch, and you see the obvious outline of his very hard erection, him attempting to tuck it into the waist band on his now exposed gym shorts.

“Put these on. We can pick up your clothes on the way to mine.” In shock, you take the track pants and slide them on, having to use the hair tie that was holding your hair up to tie the side of them so they dont fall off your waist. Frank stuffs the remains of your tights into his gym bag and comes back to you, planting a kiss on your lips as the doors open, him pulling away just in time to be missed by the entering crowd.

“Hey Castle! You guys finished up in here? Need to get in some practise before next weekend.” You knew the voice talking, you recognised him as one of the faces on the poster out the front, advertising for the gyms next fight night. 

“Yeah, we’re good. Just practising.” He looks back at you and smiles, swinging his body under the rope and you realise you haven’t moved, quickly following him.

“Ah, you’re leaving? Could really use a sparring partner.” The guy says, and your eyes widen. Frank trains with this guy? A whole new wave of desire flushes your cheeks and you look up at him, a slight fear that he would take him up on the offer.

“Yeah, gotta get my girl home.” He pulls you closer to him, swinging an arm around you as you head towards the door, uttering a quick goodbye to the waving fighter you leave behind. You hear the door click lock behind you and you descend the stairs, Frank leading you towards his car.

“Your girl?” You can’t help it, the way your heart nearly jumped out of your mouth when he said it. Did he think of you like that?

“Yeah. My girl. That okay?”

“Fine with me.” A giant grin betrays your attempt to stay casual and he opens the door for you, laughing. Anticipation begins to build as soon as he closes the door, unsure of what the next few hours will hold. He opens the drivers side door and starts the car, punching in your address and the car knows it already from the multiple times he’s driven you home.

“You think you’ll have enough clothes for two weeks or do we gotta get some?” Franks question confuses you for a moment, and then you nearly choke on your inhale in realisation.

“Oh, you so dont have to let me stay with you. Seriously, I’ll just get a hotel.” 

“C’mon, cant have my girl staying in a hotel.” That same goofy grin returns to your face, and his hand comes to rest on your inner thigh. “Besides, we got a lot of work to do, and I dont wanna be disturbed this time.” You shiver, your imagination running wild.

Sitiing back in the seat with Franks hand running up and down your leg, you cant believe you thought anything negative about today, and sliding your hands in the pockets of Franks track pants, feeling the remains of your torn underwear, you think you’ll mark this as one of your best days yet.

[wozwaid]

platonic genshin x reader headcanons! gn pronouns

im doing random characters so send who you want me to do next!

this is a crack fic as per usual 

woz’s thought of the day: free miko from my serenitea pot 

warnings: cursing,  dumbasses being dumbasses, improper grammar bc i never paid attention to it in school and now i cant read or write oops lol

✰

itto

- somehow always shows up when someone is messing with you

- like even if a little kid bumps into you he’ll pop up behind you out of NOWHERE like “do it again bitch see what happens”

- we know hes not above fighting a child

- begs you to join his gang every single day promising he’ll share the snacks he won from an 8 year old with you (but you know he never will)

✰

jean

- “dont come in my office” but always leaves a chair next to her desk bc she knows youll come in anyways

- you drag her out of her office and she flails around like a child bc she needs to finish the work that she has to turn in in 3 years

- you guys sit under the big windrise tree (names are hard and i dont feel like looking it up) and take naps

- jean is so petty if shes upset w you she’ll put you on the cleanup crew ™️ (ft noelle) and make you chase after klee

✰

ayato

- he’s so bratty its hilarious 

- you go out for dinner and when the check comes he just gets up and leaves??? “someone else usually covers it” BITCH YOU CANT JUST LEAVE????

- gives the worst advice ever but we love him for that

- you’re stressed abt work? just get someone else to do it

- ask him to do your work for you and he’ll look at you like you’re a psychopath

✰

xiao

- ZERO social skills idk how you guys became friends

- like you’ll be relaxing by yourself and he’ll show up out of nowhere

       “...”

       “hello”

       “THE FUCK-”

- the kind of friend whos brutally honest with you without any hesitation

     “that outfit is terrible”

     “xiao this is an outfit YOU picked for me bc you hated all the others”

      “did i stutter”

✰

kujo sara

- shogun stans ™️ 

- lowkey kind of a tsundere friend? she’ll never admit that she really enjoys your company.

- yall became friends bc you talked once and she decided she liked you so she would follow you around (but at a distance bc she doesnt know how to start a casual conversation)

- you eventually went up to her and asked if she was ok and the rest is history

- naur bc if yall are REALLY CLOSE she’ll rant to you and she has a lot to say

          “how the fuck did the shogun change her mind so quickly abt the vision hunt decree i poured my blood sweat and tears into enforcing that shit-”

           “sara it is 3AM can this wait 4 more hours-”

           “i dare you to interrupt me again”

i think i have carpal tunnel from playing hatsune miku colorful stage