#i'm not usually into true crime stories but i wanted to read this one because i kept wondering how this secret was kept for so long

[petr1kov]

finished reading a book about the josef fritzl case and now i need to remind myself that there's good in the world because. jesus

[hedwig221b]

Hi 💕 I love your writing so much - especially the dark and creepy and twisted!

Do you have any Dark Derek/Stiles recs?

I am over a month late answering this, but sure! I love dark sterek with my soul!

The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.” This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real. The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent. Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person. He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it. No one knows this case like Stiles does. In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

Three Little Words by Chloepioneer

“Oh god,” he whines, slapping a hand over his mouth to quell the vomit that boils the back of his throat. “Derek, is that the mailman?” or Derek has a bad habit of killing people that take an interest in Stiles. Stiles might like it a little bit.

I am not sorry, it is a lie by LunarLacrimosa

There's old stories. Dark tales of forced love and forced turnings. Of sexual copulation that would almost guarantee a human turning; the bite had a risk of being denied because a human was rejecting what was happening to them. Usually the human had no idea that they could reject anything with copulation—if it happened to be forced there was the rejection of the act itself, but not of the change. “I didn't know.” Stiles raises his gaze to meet Derek's own, honey brown eyes resigned but not betrayed. “I'm sorry,” and he supposes he should be grateful that Stiles couldn't pick up the tick in his heartbeat that would give him away just yet. “I know this isn't what you wanted.”

A brand new game by Nival_Vixen

The nogitsune never really left, but Stiles hasn't stopped trying to control the monster in his head, even if he wakes up screaming most mornings. Even when he's managed to control the nogitsune and his power, Deaton and Scott still bind and restrict him. For the next three years, Stiles plays along with their game until he decides that he's ready to play his winning hand.

Alpha by Nival_Vixen

Stiles has been kidnapped by a serial killer known only as Alpha. Stiles finds himself far too attracted to the man that's probably going to kill him.

No one called, until someone did. by queen_of_OTPs

Stiles found that he hadn’t spoken more than necessary since August. Gone were the rambling rants, extravagant gestures, and range of vocal tones. Monotone sentences that were cut with sharp edges, words like knives and tone like venom. No one had called.

Sights by dontleaveportland

“Stiles!” John’s booming voice cut in through Stiles’s clouded mind, "What have you done?!” Stiles looked up, finally seeing the scene before him. Braeden beneath him. The blood soaked field. All Hell broke loose in what seemed like seconds, the ground’s vibrations intensified, the screaming voices multiplied. Finally, an alpha’s roar broke the clamor. Stiles sank back to the ground, into the deafening silence. Or that time Derek sought a mate by village competition.

Whatever He Wants, Part Two by GentlyWithAChainsaw

Stiles just adores being Derek's new omega.

the feral wind that lit him ablaze by quackquackcey

"If you don't stop me right now," said Derek, whispers of threatening promise curling around his words, "you’ll never escape my clutches." Claws grazed along the sides of Stiles' neck and Stiles shivered with a moan. His eyes met scarlet ones, filled with the primordial power, deadly and feral, and his core shook. A soft laugh. "Too late," he breathed. ——— FBI agent Stiles goes undercover in Eichen House and ends up with only the most dangerous captive as his cellmate, the serial mass murderer Derek Hale. However, neither his case nor Derek are as they seem, and as the mysteries unravel, so do the secrets of his past that haunt him. Will he burn down alone in the fire around him, or will he burn down with Derek in the fire they spark? 🐺❤️‍🔥

Got My Eyes on You by Endellion

Stiles moves into town and Derek wants him.

Sex and Violence by halcyon1993

Derek is a feared mafia boss. Stiles gets turned on watching him work.

Might be a Predator by churkey

Derek's mom once told him they were predators. It never occurred to him to ask, 'If werewolves are predators, what do we hunt?'.

The Spoils of War by halcyon1993

Alpha Derek is a commander in the Roman Army, tasked with pillaging settlements to claim them for his own people. When he comes across a pretty young Omega during his latest conquest, he can't resist taking him as his personal prize.

Killer wolf by TheBeastsWrite

"They’d all but fallen into his apartment, a tangle of limbs and hot kisses, wet lips swollen and crushing together, clashing again and again until the teen was whimpering in delight. It wasn’t until he was pulling the shirt over the teens head that he had gasped out a desperate “I know it was you.”" Derek is a serial killer, Stiles know's he'll understand.

is this a dream (or is it my lesson?) by Melpomene (Aconitehart)

"I can save you from this," Derek says. As he kneels down in front of Stiles, colour returns to the faded water. It spreads, slowly, up the creek bed and towards the forest. Life returning. "I don't -" Derek cups his cheek, and warmth blooms from that simple contact, chasing away the icy cold within him. "All you have to do is say yes." He opens his mouth to refuse, but Derek leans in suddenly. Their noses brush and Stiles' eyes flutter closed. He can't help but tip his chin up, begging for something he's never had before. "Derek," he whispers, longing burning within him as their lips touch. "Humans are like moths," Derek murmurs. "Always chasing after the lights in the forest. You want to be hunted, deep down. You want this." In which Derek is a forest god determined to make Stiles his.

Perception by DiscontentedWinter

Peter Hale's client is a murderous sociopath. The best thing Peter can do is get him committed to Eichen House, where he'll never see daylight again. He thinks.

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | feral Stiles | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Not As Planned | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

This story contains themes of sexual assault. If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, please know that support is available. I’ve included resources below to help guide you toward assistance. You are never alone, and there is always hope. Please take care of yourself as you read.

International Sexual Assault Resource Link

Words: ~14,500

Tags/TW: SA, Violence, Trauma, Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, Plus Size MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Muggle Born MC, Post Hogwarts, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Drama, Romance, Jealousy and Longing, Confessions

The low hum of the bar buzzed like a low-grade static in Sebastian’s ears. A smooth jazz ensemble played in the corner, their music rich and sultry, threading through the room like smoke. Golden light bathed the space, casting everything in soft amber hues that made the whole place feel a little unreal. Along the curved bar, bottles of rare liquors glittered like jewels, and the faint scent of citrus and something floral—lavender, maybe—lingered in the air.

It was a far cry from their usual haunts.

Sebastian ran his fingers around the rim of his glass, trailing condensation down to the base. The whiskey in front of him wasn’t his first, and it wouldn’t be his last. Across from him, Ominis sat with the casual poise that came so easily to him, his chin balanced on one hand while his other traced absent patterns along the bar's polished surface. He looked relaxed, though Sebastian knew better. If the subtle flush on his pale cheeks wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the way his lips twitched faintly every time Poppy’s name came up certainly was.

Beside him, Garreth Weasley was anything but subtle. Loud as ever, he laughed and gestured animatedly, mid-story about some disastrous experiment he’d tried at the pub last weekend.

“…and then, right as I’m about to take a sip, she snatches it out of my hand, takes one look at it, and says—and I quote—‘You have a death wish, don’t you?’ Can you imagine? The nerve!” Garreth threw his hands up in mock indignation. “It wasn’t even that bad. Just rum, peach schnapps, absinthe—”

“One day,” Ominis cut in smoothly, tilting his head toward Garreth with the faintest smirk. “You will be tried for your alcoholic war crimes, Weasley.”

Sebastian snorted into his drink, unable to help himself. He'd need both hands to count the number of times Garreth had walked into a bar and pestered the bartender to mix him something absolutely disastrous.

It was a wonder they still got served anywhere.

Garreth scoffed, taking an exaggerated sip of his neon-colored monstrosity. “You just don’t appreciate true genius.”

Ominis arched a brow. “If by ‘genius,’ you mean ‘reckless disregard for the structural integrity of your liver,’ then yes, I'm terribly ungrateful.”

Sebastian smirked, but his attention flickered toward the entrance—again. The girls weren’t even late, not technically, but every passing minute stretched unbearably. He should have been used to this feeling by now, this sharp-edged anticipation curling low in his chest.

He wasn’t. He never was. It was always like this, wasn’t it?

The waiting. The wanting.

Sebastian had spent over a decade orbiting around you, trapped in some endless, torturous loop of almosts—of lingering touches, stolen glances, conversations that danced too close to the edge of something he didn’t dare name. The worst part? It was his own doing. He’d had every opportunity to cross that invisible line, to tell you what he felt, what he ached for, but he never did.

Because once he did, there would be no undoing it.

Meanwhile, everyone else in their group was paired off now. Garreth and Natty had been inseparable since a Ministry event a few years back, and Poppy and Ominis had been as good as married the moment Hogwarts spat them out. Imelda had ended up with Nerida, to the surprise of no one, the two of them making up a formidable duo—one sharp-tongued and reckless, the other quietly cutting.

Sebastian was happy for them. Truly, he was. It was almost sickening how well it had worked out for everyone. They’d all somehow ended up with their Hogwarts sweethearts, riding off into the sunset with picture-perfect endings that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

And then there was him.

The idiot who’d spent 11 years hopelessly in love with his best friend and done absolutely nothing about it.

At first, it had been easier to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. You were best friends. You had always been best friends. Of course you were close. Of course you knew each other better than anyone. So what if you had a habit of leaning against him whenever you were tired, or if you always reached for him first when something made you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe? So what if you touched him more than anyone else, if you let your fingers brush his wrist when you passed him a drink or hooked your ankle around his under the table without thinking about it?

It had always been like that. Until one day, it wasn’t. Until one day, when he was 15, he’d looked at you, and his stomach had flipped, and suddenly, every innocent touch, every laugh, every glance, felt different. Felt like something else entirely.

And now? Now he was fucking trapped.

Ominis’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’ll get wrinkles early if you keep scowling like that.”

Sebastian glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the smirk tugging on Ominis’s mouth. The bastard didn’t even need to see him to read him like an open book.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Sebastian muttered, taking a long sip of his drink.

Ominis didn’t respond, just tipped his head slightly, his expression bordering on smug. He didn’t need to say anything. The unspoken truth hung between them like smoke—Sebastian’s feelings for you were obvious to everyone but you.

Garreth leaned in suddenly, jarring him. “Relax, mate. They’ll show up. Natty wouldn’t miss this for the world, and she’d drag the others along if she had to.” He paused to sip his drink, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. “Although, Poppy’s probably the one making them late. You know how she loves to test Ominis’s patience.”

“More like Natty’s,” Ominis muttered, though there was no heat in it.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and turned toward the door again, restless. The moment stretched, his fingers tapping absently against the side of his glass. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t waiting for you—not like that. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t counting down the seconds until you walked through the door, wasn’t anticipating the sound of your voice, wasn’t wondering what you’d look like tonight, what you’d—

And then the door opened.

And everything else stopped.

Because there you were.

You moved through the room with easy confidence, utterly unaware of the way you were undoing him. That dress—fuck, that dress—it wasn’t something outrageous, wasn’t scandalous or overtly suggestive, but it didn’t need to be. It followed the soft curves of your body, hugged your waist, your plush thighs, the full flare of your hips in a way that made his pulse hammer violently against his ribs. Every step you took made it shift, just enough to tease, just enough to remind him that he should not be thinking about this.

And yet, his mind was already lost to darker places, caught in the dangerous, helpless imagining of how it might feel beneath his fingers. The silky fabric sliding beneath his hands, the warmth of your skin under it. How it would be if he were close enough to touch, to trace the shape of you properly, to press his hands into the softness of your waist and feel the weight of you against him.

His fingers tightened around his glass so hard he swore it might crack.

Garreth chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained, “Good luck tonight, Sallow."

Ominis said nothing, but Sebastian didn’t need to see him smirking to know exactly what was going through his mind.

It was humiliating, really, how easy it was for them to see right through him. And you? You just kept moving, oblivious to the chaos you were leaving in your wake.

Sebastian watched as you approached, your laugh bright and sweet as Natsai caught your hand, spinning you once in an exaggerated flourish as if to show you off. You humored her, swaying playfully, rolling your eyes when Imelda cat-called in approval.

Then, before he could steel himself, before he could brace for the inevitable destruction you always left in your wake, your eyes landed on him again.

And fuck, that smile.

It was warm, unguarded, laced with something soft. The kind of smile that was effortless, unconscious, the kind that made his stomach drop because it meant you were happy to see him. Because you looked at him like he was something good, something familiar and safe, and it tore him to shreds inside.

He forced himself to exhale. To not look like some love-struck fool drowning in you.

“About time,” he said as you sidled up beside him, leaning back against the bar in a way he hoped looked casual.

You rolled your eyes, slipping onto a stool, your shoulder brushing his. “I had to make sure you suffered a little first.”

“You’re a cruel woman.”

“I’m a patient woman,” you corrected, lifting a brow. “I got us on the guest list here weeks ago, so if I have to hear you complain about the wait, I will take my very expensive cocktail and pour it directly into your lap.”

Sebastian huffed, feigning offense. “You wouldn’t.”

You turned, propping your chin on your hand as you looked at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Try me.”

His stomach twisted violently. He didn’t know how you did this—how you made him feel like you could see right through him, like you knew exactly how wrecked he was and were enjoying every moment of it.

He forced himself to focus, to shift his attention somewhere safe.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere safe.

Because now, he was looking at your lips, parted just slightly in a teasing smirk, glossed and inviting and fuck—

He needed another drink. Immediately.

Before he could even flag the bartender down, Garreth leaned into your space with a dramatic sigh his arm wrapped around Natsai's waist. “Seriously though, what took you so long? Sebastian’s been brooding all night.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Has he now?”

Garreth smirked, tipping his glass toward Ominis. “Oh, yeah. Gaunt here tried to warn him about wrinkles.”

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Sebastian’s shoulder in a way that sent a full-body shudder down his spine. “I told you, Seb. Stress is bad for you.”

He tried to smirk, to give you some smart remark, but he knew it wouldn’t come out right. His brain was still lagging on the fact that your body was pressing against his.

Garreth, oblivious as ever, continued rambling. “Honestly, it was embarrassing. I think he almost—”

Sebastian elbowed him sharply, causing Garreth to spill his drink.

Natty, taking pity, pulled him back. “Come on, Garreth. Leave the poor man alone.”

“Fine, fine.” Garreth grinned, clearly not remotely deterred, but let himself be steered away.

Sebastian sighed, dragging a hand through his hair before turning back to you. “So? Was it worth the wait?”

You hummed, taking in the warm, intimate atmosphere, the soft glow of the speakeasy lights. The way the gold hues caught in your eyes nearly killed him.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smile. "It looks so authentic, like just look at the bar, Seb. The design is almost spot on to the real ones from the Prohibition era—mahogany, brass accents, those exact kind of light fixtures..."

Sebastian tried to focus on your words, really he did.

You were onto talking about speakeasy history now, eyes gleaming with excitement as you gestured toward the dim lighting, the low, rich hum of the jazz band. You’d clearly done your research, and you were rattling off facts with that same enthusiasm you always had for things you loved. It was so endearing. You could make anything sound interesting.

“Well, technically, speakeasies originated during the Prohibition era in America,” you were saying, leaning forward slightly, the low L ight catching in your hair. “They were hidden bars—illegal drinking spots since alcohol was banned. They had secret passwords, hidden entrances, all that. Some were even run by gangsters—people like Al Capone—because bootlegging was so lucrative.”

Sebastian nodded, trying to pay attention, but it was impossible. Because, as much as he loved hearing you nerd out, his brain had zero capacity for historical facts when every single one of your friends had immediately paired off around him.

At the bar, Natty was leaned into Garreth’s side, her hand resting lightly on his chest as he ordered her a drink, his voice dipping into something low and teasing that made her smile. A few feet away, Poppy had sidled up to Ominis, fingers barely brushing against his wrist in that quiet, intimate way they always did. Meanwhile, Imelda and Nerida had wasted no time making themselves comfortable, tucked into a plush booth, heads close together, already lost in each other.

And then there was you. With him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you belonged here, beside him. Like you were his.

Except—you weren’t.

Sebastian swallowed hard, fingers curling around his glass.

It was a cruel fucking thing, this closeness you gave him so easily. Because it wasn’t real, was it? Not really. You were just you. His best friend. Close enough to touch, to tease, to wreck him without even realizing it. But never his.

Never really his.

“…they even had hidden tunnels sometimes,” you continued. “The really fancy ones had hidden rooms, secret staircases, all kinds of tricks. Some of them were in basements, some behind fake storefronts. People had to whisper the password when they got in, which is where the term ‘speakeasy’ comes from.”

Sebastian barely registered what you were saying and you sighed, finally noticing the way he was watching you.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

Sebastian blinked.

“No,” he admitted, because what was the point in lying?

You rolled your eyes, exasperated, but there was no real bite to it.

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

Sebastian smirked. “Always.”

You huffed, clearly unimpressed. “So, what were you thinking about?”

He should have said something teasing, something to deflect, but then you leaned in, just slightly, your head tilting, and Sebastian was drowning.

There was too much warmth in your eyes, too much softness in the way you looked at him, and for one reckless second, he thought maybe. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe you knew. Maybe you felt it too.

Sebastian cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away, to wave down the bartender like they might save him.

“Nothing important,” he lied.

You studied him for a beat longer, and then, before you could say another word—

“What can I get for you?”

Mercifully, the bartender appeared, their voice smooth, professional.

Sebastian exhaled and leaned against the bar, grateful for something else to focus on. “Whiskey and Coke.”

The bartender nodded, about to turn away when Sebastian jerked his chin toward you. “And whatever she wants.”

You huffed then rolled your eyes. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

“I know,” Sebastian said, smirking as he propped his elbow against the bar, resting his chin in his hand. “But since I’m clearly suffering through your history lesson, consider it payment.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, suffering, are you?”

“Excruciatingly.”

“Fine,” you sighed, faux exasperation in your tone, turning back to the bartender. “I’ll take the signature cocktail then, since it’s on his dime.”

Sebastian smirked, shaking his head. “Figures.”

The bartender chuckled and disappeared to prepare the drinks, leaving the two of you to settle back into the warmth of the speakeasy’s golden glow.

Sebastian let himself relax, narrowing his eyes slightly. “So? This drink of yours—what’s in it?”

You lifted a brow, amusement flickering across your expression. “Trying to impress me with your knowledge of mixology?”

“Absolutely not.” He snorted. “Just trying to gauge how badly I’m about to regret funding your expensive taste.”

You laughed, the sound warm, easy. “You’ll live. It’s gin with elderflower liqueur, citrus, a little honey, some kind of infused vermouth—oh, and a sprig of rosemary for flair. They call it The Whisper.”

Sebastian snorted. “That’s a lot of effort for a single drink.”

“That’s the whole point of a speakeasy, you loser,” you teased, nudging your shoulder against his. “It’s all about the craft.”

He rolled his eyes but grinned. “And here I thought we were just here to drink.”

“Well, that too.”

Your drinks arrived, and you lifted your cocktail, inspecting it with a satisfied little nod before taking a sip. The moment your lips met the rim of the glass, Sebastian had to fight back another surge of inconvenient thoughts—the gloss on your mouth leaving the faintest sheen against the glass, the way your lashes fluttered slightly as you tasted it, considering the balance of flavors.

“It’s so good,” you told him, swirling the liquid lightly in your glass. “Floral, a little sweet, but not too much.”

Sebastian hummed, sipping his drink as he watched you. “Glad to know my money’s going to a worthy cause.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You know, you never did answer my question.”

Sebastian blinked. “What question?”

You gave him a look—one that told him you knew he was dodging. “What you were thinking about earlier while you ignored my history lesson.”

His grip on his glass tightened for half a second, but before he could come up with a clever retort to get out of this, a new voice cut in—bright, excited.

“Hey you!”

Poppy.

She appeared out of nowhere, seizing your wrist before you could protest. “Come dance with us!”

Your eyes widened. “Poppy—wait—”

But Poppy was relentless, already tugging you toward the dance floor with surprising strength. “Nope, no arguments! Come on!”

Sebastian watched, amused and relieved, as you shot him a look over your shoulder—half entertained, half exasperated—before you disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the glow of the dance floor, and just like that, you were gone.

A slow, knowing voice hummed beside him.

“She got away from you rather quickly.”

Ominis.

Sebastian scowled. “Don’t start."

The blonde sipped his drink, the picture of smug amusement. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Sebastian shot him a flat look. “You were absolutely going to say something.”

Ominis smirked. “Well, if you insist—”

Sebastian groaned, tossing back a sip of his whiskey and coke before slamming the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Ominis continued, swirling the last of his drink lazily in his glass. “I think I might even pity you.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, but you do need a strategy,” Ominis mused, setting his empty glass down with a soft clink. “Because, at this rate, I fear I’ll be married before you confess to her.”

Sebastian scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you. Took you 8 years to say anything to Poppy.”

Ominis simply smirked. “And yet, here I am, in a committed relationship, while you’re still over here brooding into your drink like a lovesick schoolboy.”

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s sake, Ominis.”

“What?” Ominis asked, feigning innocence. “It’s painful watching you, you know. I can hear the longing.”

Sebastian scowled. “I do not long.”

Ominis turned his head toward him, lips curling ever so slightly. “Sebastian. Poppy said you stared at her mouth for a full ten seconds while she was talking about her drink.”

Sebastian flushed, gripping his glass a little too hard. “It wasn’t ten seconds.”

Ominis hummed. “It was.”

Sebastian wanted to slam his forehead into the bar.

This was his own personal hell.

Garreth sauntered over before he could wallow too deeply, plopping onto the stool beside him with a lazy grin. He slung an arm over the bar, casting a glance toward the dance floor.

“Mate, you are so obvious,” Garreth said, sipping his drink. “It’s honestly impressive.”

Sebastian gave him a flat look. “Did you come over just to harass me?”

“Pretty much,” Garreth said cheerfully.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw back the rest of his drink.

Garreth followed his gaze toward the dance floor, where you were now laughing at something Natty had said, your body swaying to the rhythm of the music. The warm amber lighting bathed your skin, the movement of the crowd shifting around you in slow, rhythmic waves.

And fuck, you looked good. Too good. Sebastian took another sip of his whiskey, trying to ignore the ache curling in his chest.

“So,” Garreth said, propping his chin in his hand. “What’s the plan?”

Sebastian glanced at him. “What?”

“The plan,” Garreth repeated. “You know—the one where you finally do something about your massive, crushing, soul-consuming love for her?”

Sebastian groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Mate, we have to do this right now,” Garreth said, motioning toward the dance floor. “Because if you don’t do something soon, some other guy will.”

Sebastian stiffened. Because this? This was the one thing he never let himself think about for too long.

For years, he had convinced himself there was time. That things would work out naturally, that you’d both just… fall into place.

It wasn’t as if you had never been with anyone. You had, a few times during school, in the careless, fleeting way that teenagers fell in and out of things. But nothing had ever stuck. Nothing had ever felt like it mattered. And when they ended, Sebastian had always been there.

Your constant.

The one person you always came back to.

It had reassured him, in some selfish, pathetic way. Let him believe that you weren’t really going anywhere. That whatever was between you—whatever was building between you—would always be there, waiting, until you both figured it out.

But then you’d fallen for him.

Your first real, serious boyfriend. The one who had made Sebastian’s life hell for over a year.

He had hated every goddamn second of it. Hated watching you be with someone else, hated the way you had looked at him—like that—like he was yours. Hated seeing another man have what should have been his.

And what had he done? Nothing. Because he hadn’t been brave enough.

He had let it happen. He had let himself smile and nod and pretend to be happy for you. He had let himself sit on the sidelines and watch.

And then, when it was over—when it had all fallen apart—he had been there. Of course, he had. But you never told him what happened, and Sebastian never asked for details. Never pressed, never pried. All he knew was that one day, it was over, and you didn’t talk about it.

And if Sebastian had felt relieved? If some ugly, selfish part of him had thrived in the knowledge that you were single again?

Well. That was between him and the whiskey.

But that was over a year ago now, and Garreth was right.

You were moving forward, and Sebastian no longer had the luxury of time. You weren’t seventeen anymore. You weren’t in school, fumbling through fleeting relationships just for the sake of them. You were a grown woman—beautiful, incredible, desirable—and when you chose someone now, it would be for something real.

Something long-term. Something permanent.

And the idea of someone else—some faceless stranger—walking up to you on the dance floor, flashing you a grin, letting their hands wander over your waist, pulling you close like they had any right—fuck. That alone was bad enough. But the thought of someone keeping you, of some other man being the one you turned to at the end of the day, the one who got to wake up beside you, touch you freely, know you in ways Sebastian never had the chance to—

It made something inside his chest splinter, burn so hot and fierce he swore it might ruin him.

Across from him, Garreth was watching, expression infuriatingly smug.

“So,” he said, lazily swirling the ice in his drink. “How’s that plan coming along?”

Sebastian dragged a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to groan.

“Garreth.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Garreth grinned. “See, I would, but you’re being so fun to watch right now.”

Sebastian scowled, about to say something sharp and unhelpful, but his tongue turned to lead the moment he caught sight of you again.

You had slowed, your dancing shifting into something softer, something more. Natty had turned away, distracted by Poppy tugging her toward another group, and now you were swaying on your own, hands drifting absently down your sides as if lost in the rhythm. Your body moved without thought, your dress hugging the curves of your hips in ways that sent something dark curling in Sebastian’s stomach.

He watched as your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the music, the soft golden glow of the lights painting your skin in honeyed warmth.

And then, like clockwork, it happened.

Some man—some fucking man—noticed you.

Sebastian saw it before it even began, could feel the exact moment the stranger’s gaze landed on you, lingering.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of polished that came with old money, and he was looking at you like he wanted you.

And you—unaware, oblivious—were still dancing. Still open. Still approachable.

Sebastian’s blood ran hot.

Garreth, always a shit-disturber, let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, this is gonna be good.”

Sebastian didn’t even register him, because the stranger was already moving, crossing the floor toward you with intent, cutting through the slow sway of bodies, an easy grin sliding into place.

Sebastian barely heard Garreth mutter, yep, there it is, before he was already moving.

Not thinking—just moving, standing, glass forgotten, feet carrying him across the floor with single-minded purpose.

The stranger reached you first, but Sebastian wasn’t far behind, and he saw the exact moment the man’s hand started to lift—reaching for you, moving into your space.

And he saw the way you instinctively leaned back, a subtle but unmistakable recoil, your easy smile dimming as you shook your head, declining whatever offer the guy had just made.

And before the bastard could press further—before he could try again—Sebastian was there.

His body cut smoothly between you, stepping into your space so fast and close that you had to tilt your head up in surprise, your eyes widening at him.

The stranger hesitated, thrown off by his sudden arrival, but Sebastian didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t even fucking blink in his direction.

Because you? You were looking at him. And only him.

Your lips parted slightly, something caught between confusion and surprise, but Sebastian didn’t give you a chance to question it.

Sebastian held out a hand.

“Dance with me.”

Not a request. Not a suggestion. A command.

Your brows lifted slightly at the shift in his voice, but you didn’t hesitate. Because of course you didn’t. You trusted him.

Your fingers slid into his, warm and soft, and Sebastian nearly exhaled in relief.

Because just like that, the moment was over.

The stranger lingered for only a second longer before turning away, disappearing into the crowd.

Gone. Good.

Then you sighed—a small, quiet thing, barely noticeable over the music—and glanced up at him, a flicker of something unreadable in your expression.

“Thanks for that,” you murmured, voice lower now, more serious than it had been all night.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed slightly. “For what?”

Your lips pressed together for a second, as if debating whether to say anything. Then, finally:

“That guy was talking to our group earlier, too.”

Sebastian’s grip on your waist tightened, his mood immediately souring. Because how had he not noticed? How had he been sitting at that bar this whole damn time, so hyper-focused on you, so obsessed, and not seen some asshole lurking around you and the other girls? A slow, simmering anger curled in his gut.

“Did he say anything to you?” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be.

You shook your head. “Just… you know.” You made a vague gesture, rolling your eyes slightly. “The usual.”

Sebastian’s jaw flexed. No, he didn’t know. Because he wasn’t you.

He didn’t know what it was like to be someone like you—gorgeous, open, effortlessly magnetic—constantly dealing with men who thought that just because you were kind, just because you smiled, just because you laughed and danced, it meant they had a chance.

It made something dark coil inside him, something ugly. Something possessive.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying—failing—to push it down.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, voice quieter now, lower, but hard.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the edge in his tone.

“No,” you said after a beat, shaking your head.

Sebastian didn’t realize how much tension he had been holding until the word left your mouth. Didn’t realize how furious he had been, how much his hands had itched to grab that bastard by the collar and drag him outside just for thinking he had the right to put his hands on you.

“You don’t have to look like that,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly.

Sebastian raised a brow, his smirk automatic but strained. “Like what?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Like you’re about to storm out of here and commit a felony.”

Sebastian didn’t deny it.

"You should let me fight someone for you at least once," he muttered, only half-joking.

You grinned. "Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?"

"More than you know."

"Violence isn’t the answer, Sallow," you sing-songed.

He smirked. "It’s a good answer, though."

You shook your head, still laughing, still entirely too light while Sebastian was over here barely holding himself together. And then, just to kill him, you leaned in, pressing your forehead lightly against his chest.

"I’m okay, Seb," you murmured.

Just like that, the anger drained from his body. Because if you weren’t upset, if you weren’t shaken, if you were still smiling up at him like this—like he was something good, something safe—then how was he supposed to hold onto his fury?

The song slowed, the deep bass fading into the last lingering notes of the melody. The hum of conversation filled the space again, bodies shifting, moving apart, laughter rising over the murmur of the next song beginning.

Sebastian barely noticed because you were still close—your forehead resting against his chest, your breath warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. And just as easily as you had leaned into him, you pulled back and reached for his hand, fingers sliding against his.

“I need another drink.”

And Sebastian—who would have followed you anywhere, who always had—went without question.

He let you lead him through the crowd, past shifting bodies and hushed conversation, back toward the bar where your friends had gathered, voices raised in lively debate.

Garreth was the first to notice your return, his grin downright wicked as he clocked your joined hands.

“Look who decided to grace us with their presence,” he drawled, handing Sebastian a pint of beer. “Have a nice dance?”

Sebastian ignored him, but you just rolled your eyes, releasing his hand as you slid onto a stool. “I did, actually. What’s all this?”

Nerida, perched beside Imelda, snorted. “They’re making bets on what Poppy has gotten Ominis into this time.”

You blinked. “Where've they gone?”

“She dragged him off about twenty minutes ago,” Imelda said, smirking over the rim of her glass. “Into one of the side rooms.”

Sebastian felt your laughter before he heard it—the way your shoulders shook, the way you leaned slightly into his side, your warmth pressing into him once again.

“Oh no,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Poor Ominis.”

Garreth grinned. “Poor Ominis?” He gestured wildly with his glass. "That man's probably having the time of his bloody life right now! In fact, Natty, I'd be more than happy to—"

Natty cut him off with a sharp look, arching a brow. “Don’t finish that sentence, Weasley.”

Nerida, still nursing her drink, smirked. “So, what are the odds? Did she lure him in with something harmless, or is Ominis about to lose all dignity?”

“Fifteen galleons says he’s getting head at this very second," Imelda said with a grin, tapping her fingers against the bar.

Garreth howled with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “Oh, Merlin, I wish I had that kind of faith in Poppy, but in public?! I don't know, Mel.”

Natty groaned, covering her face with her hands. “For the love of God—”

Nerida just smirked, tilting her glass toward Imelda. “Bold bet. You really think Poppy’s got it in her?”

Imelda snorted. “Look, I’m just saying—quiet ones are always the freakiest.”

Sebastian choked on his beer.

Garreth, still grinning, wiped at his eyes. “Ten galleons says she is at least getting handsy.”

“Five says he’s just standing there awkwardly while she tells him fun facts about kneazles,” Natty countered, shaking her head.

Sebastian smirked, shaking his head. “I’d put twenty on him hexing us all into oblivion if he knew what was going on right now.”

Garreth cackled. “A safe bet.”

The conversation was rapidly descending into chaos when, right on cue, Ominis’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and unimpressed.

“I hate all of you.”

The group collectively turned to see Ominis standing there, looking thoroughly unimpressed, Poppy at his side looking suspiciously pleased with herself.

Garreth, delighted, clapped his hands together. “There he is! So… how’d it go, lover boy?”

Ominis’s expression darkened. “I will hex you.”

You grinned, still trying to contain your laughter. “Tell us what happened, Omins.”

Ominis’s face went red. Not just a faint flush—fully red, the kind of embarrassment that spelled immediate entertainment for everyone involved. And Poppy, the absolute menace, lifted a hand to her mouth, failing miserably at stifling her laughter.

The group lost it, and Ominis looked like he wanted to die.

Garreth cackled, nearly spilling his drink as he clutched his stomach.

Nerida slammed a hand on the bar, wheezing. “Oh my God."

Imelda, grinning like the devil herself, leaned forward. “Right, then. Who’s paying up the fifteen galleons?”

Ominis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear to Merlin, if one more person so much as suggests—”

Garreth clapped him on the back, grinning wildly. “So, that’s a no on the getting head, then?”

Ominis’s expression darkened so fast it was almost impressive, but before he could truly commit to murder, Nerida—ever the peacemaker—tilted her head toward the back corner of the bar.

“Alright, alright—before Ominis does something irreversible, who’s up for a round of pool?”

This was met with general agreement—mostly because the alcohol was settling in enough that no one felt like sitting still anymore.

Sebastian, still thoroughly amused, tipped back the rest of his drink before pushing away from the bar, waiting for you to follow.

And you did. Of course you did.

In fact, Sebastian was pleased—very pleased—when you stuck by his side for the rest of the evening.

You could have easily wandered off, flitted between groups, danced again. But instead, you leaned against the table, sipping your drink, laughing at Garreth’s terrible pool skills, rolling your eyes at Imelda’s trash talk, nudging Sebastian with your hip whenever he made a particularly cocky shot.

It was good.

The night stretched on in a golden haze, full of too much laughter, too many drinks, and the kind of warm, buzzing atmosphere that made it far too easy to forget that the outside world existed at all.

Except.

Sebastian noticed—drunkenly, hazily, slowly noticed—that something was off.

It wasn’t obvious, but it was there nonetheless. The girls were still laughing, still drinking, still teasing them mercilessly over every terrible shot at pool. But they weren’t leaving. And that was weird.

Because usually—after enough drinks, after enough games—the girls always migrated. They’d get bored of pool, tired of darts, and drift off to dance, or find a quieter table to sit at and gossip.

But not tonight. Tonight, they were sticking close.

Poppy, usually the first to suggest another round on the dance floor, was still here, sitting comfortably at Ominis's side, chatting animatedly with Natty while Garreth ordered them drinks.

Nerida and Imelda, who normally found excuses to disappear for a bit, were locked in an intense conversation while still staying within view of everyone else.

And you were still beside him.

And maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the way the room had tilted slightly when he stood up earlier. But Sebastian’s brain, slow and sluggish, finally caught up to the creeping thought that had been lurking in the background since you'd danced with him.

Was it because of him? That man from earlier?

Sebastian turned his head slightly, scanning the bar. He hadn’t thought about him in hours, but now that he was... where the hell did he go?

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around his drink, a slow, simmering anger curling back into his gut. Because if you—and the others—had been sticking close all night, had been keeping within reach of them instead of doing what you usually did…

Then what did that mean? Had that bastard scared you?

But then—

“Seb?”

Your voice cut through the haze, your fingers curling around his wrist, tugging lightly. He turned, and whatever dark, brooding thoughts had been creeping into his mind vanished.

Because fuck, you were drunk. Not messy, not too far gone, but just enough. Your eyes were hazy with warmth, your grin lopsided, and when you pulled him slightly closer, there was the faintest slur in your words.

You swayed slightly. “D’you wanna sit? M’legs feel all… floaty.”

And just like that, Sebastian forgot about everything else. The man. The unease. The lingering feeling that something was wrong. Because now? Now he was only looking at you.

You, standing just a little too close, your body warm with alcohol, your hair a little mussed, your expression soft.

You, blinking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted like you were trying to work through whatever lazy, meandering thought had just slipped into your mind.

Sebastian smirked, setting his drink down. “Those cocktails stronger than you thought?”

You huffed, swaying slightly as you nudged his arm. “So much stronger.”

Sebastian barely bit back a laugh. “Lightweight.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “How dare—”

Sebastian grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders before you could wobble too much.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, guiding you toward one of the plush loveseats behind the pool table. “Let’s get you off those floaty legs.”

You hummed, leaning into him a little too easily, like it was natural, like this was where you belonged. And fuck, if that wasn’t a dangerous thought.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, guiding you down before sitting beside you, letting his arm rest along the back of the chair, leaving just enough room for you to lean into him if you wanted to.

You let out a small hum, tilting your head back slightly to look at him, eyes half-lidded, hazy with alcohol. Then—out of nowhere—you reached for his hand.

Sebastian blinked, watching, completely dumbfounded, as you grabbed his wrist, pulling his palm toward yours. You pressed your hand flat against his, comparing sizes, your fingers barely reaching the first knuckle of his own.

And you beamed.

“Merlin,” you murmured, like you were discovering something truly profound, flexing your fingers against his. “Why are your hands so big?”

Sebastian swallowed hard, staring at the sight of your palm against his, at the way your much smaller fingers curled slightly around his own.

He barely found his voice. “Dunno. Why are yours so small?”

You giggled, tilting your head at him. “D’you think if I had big hands, I’d be better at pool?”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his chest tight. “You’re already better than Garreth. No changes necessary.”

You gasped dramatically. “Poor Garreth.”

“He deserves it.”

You snorted, then curled your fingers between his, lacing them loosely together. Just resting there. Just holding. Sebastian nearly blacked out.

You didn’t even seem to realize what you were doing, just looked down at your intertwined hands with an easy, alcohol-softened smile before shifting again, tucking yourself even closer into his side.

“You always smell nice, too."

Always. That meant you’d noticed before. You noticed him.

Sebastian forced himself to clear his throat, trying for something casual—something to keep from absolutely combusting.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “What do I smell like?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Like…” Your brows scrunched slightly, like you were trying to pinpoint it exactly. “Something warm. Like... like… cinnamon. And cloves. And something kind of… smoky? But not in a bad way. Just… cozy.”

Sebastian was about to die. Right here. Right fucking here, in this speakeasy, drunk with you pressed against him, completely unaware that you were absolutely wrecking him. And then, because you weren’t done ruining his life, you sighed. All content and pleased and nestled against his side like you belonged there, like this was normal, like you weren’t setting his entire fucking world on fire.

“And you’re always so warm,” you murmured.

Sebastian’s throat bobbed as he forced something out.

“You cold?” he asked, trying to sound unaffected.

You hummed, nuzzling slightly into his shoulder. “Not anymore.”

Sebastian was dangerously close to losing his mind, and he needed a distraction. Immediately.

“So,” he said, shifting slightly, trying to ignore how easily your body moved with his, “since I did such a terrible job listening last time, how about another speakeasy lesson?”

You perked up instantly, blinking at him in adorable surprise, then huffed, amused. “Oh, so now you’re interested?”

Sebastian smirked. “Figured I should at least pretend to be an attentive student.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly in your seat to face him better—though, in your drunken state, that mostly meant you leaned even more into his side.

“Well,” you began, slipping into a more thoughtful tone, “like I was saying before you zoned out completely, speakeasies got their name because people had to speak easy—keep their voices down so they wouldn’t get caught.”

Sebastian nodded like this was brand new information, even though he vaguely remembered you mentioning it earlier. Meanwhile, you draped your arms over your lap, tilting your head against the back of the loveseat as you spoke, your words a little slower, your thoughts a little more meandering.

“But what’s funny,” you continued, your finger tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your dress, “is that even though the entire point was secrecy, some speakeasies were huge. Like, big bands, huge dance floors, completely over-the-top. They wanted the allure, the glamour, y’know?”

Sebastian did not know.

Because he was too busy watching the way your lips moved around your words, the way your lashes fluttered when you got lost in a thought, the way your entire body seemed to sway slightly with the rhythm of your own storytelling.

This was not helping his situation.

At all.

“So some of them weren’t hidden?” he asked, if only to remind himself to keep his brain functional.

You shook your head, a little slower than usual. “Not really. Like, technically, you still had to know someone to get in. They had passwords, secret entrances… but everyone knew where they were.”

Sebastian hummed, watching the way you twirled a loose strand of hair around your finger. “So what you’re saying,” he mused, smirking, “is that criminals are just show-offs?”

You snorted, rolling your head to the side to look at him. “That’s what you took from that?”

He grinned. “Am I wrong?”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “No, you’re not wrong, but historically speaking—”

Sebastian could have stayed here forever. You, curled into his side, talking about some random bit of history you’d read in a book. Your voice laced with alcohol, your words a little softer, a little slower, but still so full of excitement. It was so easy. So perfect.

His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your dress, twirling the soft material between his fingertips, completely absorbed in the warmth of the moment, in the way you looked at him, in the way—

Then you let out a heavy sigh, shifting against him.

“I need to break the seal,” you muttered, groaning dramatically.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown from his thoughts.

You pouted, stretching slightly as you tilted your head toward him. “I have to pee,” you clarified. “And I don’t wanna move.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “That is a tragedy.”

You groaned, snuggling further into the cushions, making no move to actually get up. “Ugh, this sucks. I'm so comfy.”

He nudged you lightly. “Go on, love, I'll be right here when you get back.”

You whined, literally whined, before finally, reluctantly pushing yourself up. You stretched as you stood—your dress shifting dangerously as you straightened yourself—and Sebastian was definitely not looking. Not at the way your dress shifted up the curve of your thighs, not at the way your arms lifted over your head, making every inch of you somehow even more tempting.

Nope.

He was absolutely looking straight ahead, nowhere near you.

But as you turned away—taking slow, slightly unsteady steps—something in his chest twisted. Not the usual ache, the fuck-I’m-in-love-with-her feeling he’d been drowning in all night.

Something else. Something wrong.

He tried to shake it, tried to tell himself it was just the drinks, just his dumb possessive instincts making him hyperaware of you.

But still.

His smirk faltered slightly as he watched you make your way toward the washrooms.

It wasn’t far. Just across the lounge, past a few tables, through a hallway.

But still.

Sebastian shifted in his seat, his foot tapping idly against the floor. You’d be back in a few minutes. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Sebastian knew it the second too much time passed.

At first, he kept himself distracted, letting Garreth and Imelda pull him into their bickering over pool shots, letting Ominis make dry, unimpressed comments about their collective lack of skill. Sebastian nursed his drink, felt the warmth of the alcohol hum through his veins, tried to tell himself you were just taking your time.

But then a song ended. And another. And you still weren’t back.

Sebastian’s fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, his brows pinching slightly.

Then he checked the time. And the wrongness that had been sitting, low and uneasy, in his chest all night curled tighter.

He straightened in his seat, setting his drink down, his entire body suddenly too alert.

It was fine. You were fine.

Maybe you’d just gotten distracted. Maybe you were reapplying your lipstick, or fixing your hair, or—

No. No, something was wrong. And suddenly, Sebastian wasn’t drunk anymore.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just moved, ignoring the way the others glanced at him in mild confusion.

“Be right back,” he muttered, already walking away.

His heart picked up speed as he cut across the bar, past the lounge, weaving through groups of people, gaze sharp as he scanned the room.

The hallway to the washrooms was dimly lit, tucked just slightly away from the main bar, just enough that it made something uncomfortable roll through his stomach.

He stepped into the corridor, his footfalls suddenly too loud in the muffled quiet. The wrongness in his gut went from unease to something razor-sharp.

Where were you?

Sebastian glanced toward the entrance to the women’s washroom, waiting—listening—for any sign of you. Nothing.

His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at his sides. He turned his head—

And froze.

Just past the corner of the hallway, tucked slightly out of view, a sound. A muffled whimper. Quiet. Shaky. Then a voice. Low. Murmuring. Unfamiliar.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists, he rounded the corner so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and there you were.

Pressed against a door, your shoulders curled inward, hands shaking as you tried to push him away. Your dress, torn at the strap. That man—his hands on you, gripping your waist, his body too close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured something low, coaxing, like he was trying to convince you, like you weren’t already crying.

Sebastian’s mind went blank. One second, the bastard was pressed up against you, gripping you like he had any fucking right, and the next—

Crack.

The man hit the opposite wall, hard, eyes blown wide as he let out a stunned, choked gasp, lip split and bleeding.

Sebastian was already on him.

His fist caught the bastard’s shirt, dragging him forward, shoving him so hard the walls rattled.

Sebastian was breathing too fast, seeing too much, his pulse roaring in his ears. The man let out a pained groan, hands grabbing at Sebastian’s wrist.

“Hey—”

Sebastian slammed him back again.

“You think you can touch her?” His voice was low, deadly, his face so close that the bastard flinched.

“She was asking for it,” the man spat, mouth bloody, words slurred. “Didn’t say no, just got shy—”

Sebastian snapped. His fist came down hard—one, two—again—

“How fucking dare you?”

The man gasped, wheezing, hands scrambling to stop him.

Sebastian was going to kill him. Was going to beat him into the fucking floor.

And then a hand. Light. Shaking. Fingers curling around his arm.

“Sebastian?”

Soft. Trembling.

Sebastian’s lungs seized. He turned his head, still breathing hard, still shaking. And fuck—

Tears streaked down your cheeks, your lip trembling, your eyes too wide, too stunned, too afraid.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. His grip tightened for a breath, then, with a sharp, ragged exhale, he let go.

The man hit the floor hard, scrambling back on his hands, panting, nose crooked.

Sebastian didn’t even look at him. Because you—

You were still standing there, your hands clutching your torn dress, fingers shaking, chest rising too fast, breath uneven.

Sebastian felt sick.

And then voices. Footsteps. A sudden surge of noise as the dim corridor flooded with people.

Sebastian barely turned in time to see Ominis, Garreth, Natty, Imelda, Nerida, Poppy—the whole group—rounding the corner at full speed.

Garreth’s face twisted into something Sebastian had never seen before, his usual easy demeanor vanishing as he took one look at you, then the man on the floor, then Sebastian—still fuming, still shaking, still breathing too fast—and understood immediately.

Natty sucked in a sharp breath.

Nerida froze.

Poppy clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

Imelda’s knuckles cracked from how hard she clenched her fists.

And Ominis—

Ominis, usually the calmest among them, took one step forward, and his voice came out cold. “What the fuck happened?”

Sebastian didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight. You hadn’t moved.

Then another voice, unfamiliar, but undeniably authoritative.

“Out. Now.”

Sebastian turned his head to see the bouncers push through the group.

One of them grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt. The bastard let out a choked noise.

“You’re done,” the bouncer growled, dragging him toward the exit. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The man spluttered, voice slurred from his split lip. “I—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sebastian watched. Watched as the man who had his hands on you got ripped away, thrown out like trash, shoved into the night where he fucking belonged.

And yet Sebastian still wasn’t breathing right. Still wasn’t calm. Because you were still shaking, still—

“We’re leaving.”

Ominis.

His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Sebastian nodded automatically. They all did.

The group moved quickly, no hesitation, no time for words as they all started toward the door, the bouncers giving them a wide path through the crowd.

Sebastian barely noticed the murmured whispers around them. All he noticed was you. Still silent, still staring down, still breathing too fast.

The cold air outside hit like a shock, cutting through the drunken haze that had lingered over the night.

Sebastian barely felt it, but the moment the chill hit, you shivered violently. Ominis moved instinctively, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth motion.

“Here.” His voice was still tight, still controlled, but softer than before.

But when he stepped forward, offering it—

You flinched. Sharp. Instinctive.

And Sebastian—watching it all unfold—felt something deep inside him break.

Because it wasn’t just anyone you flinched from. It was Ominis. One of your closest friends. The gentlest, kindest, least-threatening person you knew. And if you recoiled from him—

Sebastian swallowed hard, his throat tight as the entire group went silent, the weight of it suffocating.

Ominis stilled, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the fabric of his jacket before he pulled back, his face unreadable, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t try again. Just exhaled slowly, fingers twitching once before he let his arms drop to his sides.

Poppy, who had always been the most gentle of them, shifted half a step toward you, lips parted like she wanted to say something—but stopped herself. Because she saw it, too.

You weren’t just shaking. You were wrapped up inside yourself, arms clutched around your middle, shoulders drawn in tight, like you wanted to disappear.

Sebastian’s chest ached. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. Didn’t know how to fix this. Didn’t know how to make the world feel safe for you again.

He wanted to grab you, hold you, whisper that he would never let anyone touch you again—but he couldn’t. Because what if you flinched from him, too?

Ominis—always steady, always rational—was the first to move.

"Let's go, we need to get off the main street," he said, voice measured, composed—but there was something else beneath it. Something tightly wound.

No one argued. The group moved as one, huddled close, protective.

Imelda and Nerida flanked either side of you like an unspoken shield, while Natty and Poppy stuck close behind.

Garreth, for once, was silent, his face set in a rare, grim seriousness as he cast sharp glances at every single person still lingering outside the club, as if daring someone to look at you wrong.

And Sebastian stayed right in front of you, hands curled into fists, jaw aching from how tight he had clenched it.

Together, they moved toward the nearest side street, somewhere quieter, somewhere out of the open. Only once they were tucked into the dimly lit alleyway, far from the club and the weight of watching eyes, did Ominis finally speak again.

"Who’s flat is closest?"

"Mine," Sebastian said instantly.

That wasn't technically true.

Natty and Garreth’s place was closer—objectively the better option. If this had been any other night, any other situation, logic would have dictated the choice. But logic didn’t mean shit right now.

Not that anyone protested. Because of course it was going to be Sebastian. Of course he was the one taking you home.

Garreth let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Right. Let’s get you a cab, then."

"Fuck that," Sebastian muttered. "I’ll Apparate."

That stopped everyone in their tracks.

Ominis immediately frowned. "Sebastian, we’re in Muggle London—"

"I don’t give a shit." His voice came out sharp, barely restrained. "I’m not making her sit in some goddamn cab, not after—" He cut himself off, exhaling hard, trying to shove down the fresh wave of anger clawing at his throat.

It was the last thing you needed right now.

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Apparition was dangerous under the best circumstances—let alone when he was like this, let alone when you were like this. Not to mention, doing magic in a heavily populated Muggle area was risky as hell.

But fuck that. He wasn’t going to make you wait. Wasn’t going to let you sit through some excruciatingly long cab ride, squirming in silence, trapped in a moving metal box.

No. He was getting you out of here. Now.

Natty stepped forward, voice level. "Sebastian."

He clenched his jaw. "Natty, I swear to—"

"Sebastian."

She was stepping in front of you now, her dark eyes steady, sharp, cutting through the thick, suffocating tension like a blade.

Sebastian knew that look.

Natty had always been practical—calm, calculated, always thinking a step ahead. And right now, she was looking at him like she was measuring him, like she was assessing him.

"You're not going anywhere with her," she said, her voice even, "unless she wants to go with you."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. His gut reaction was to be offended. To snap that of course you wanted to go with him, because who else would it be?

But Natty’s expression didn’t change. Didn’t waver. Because this wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about what he thought, what he wanted, what he was sure of. This was about you, and whether you still felt safe with him.

Sebastian swallowed hard. The thought that you might not be wrecked him, made his stomach twist, made his ribs feel like they were caving in.

The idea that you—his everything—might not want to be anywhere near him right now. Might not trust him. Might not even be able to look at him after what had just happened. But if that was what you needed then he wouldn’t fight it. Wouldn’t blame you. Wouldn’t say a damn word.

Sebastian nodded, and Natsai turned to you slowly, her movements deliberate, careful. Her voice softened, but still held its steady, grounding weight.

"Do you want to go with him?"

A moment passed. Sebastian held his breath.

Then you nodded. It was small, barely more than a twitch of your chin, but it was everything.

Sebastian exhaled, something sharp and unbearable unwinding in his chest. He stepped forward, slowly, his movements deliberate, careful.

Held out his hand and waited.

Your fingers trembled, but you reached for him, sliding your palm into loosely into his.

"Ring us when... when you have a minute," Ominis said, his voice level, steady—but heavy. There was something unspoken in it, something Sebastian understood immediately.

Sebastian nodded once. No words. No drawn-out goodbyes. He didn’t have it in him.

Then, without another thought—he turned on the spot, pulling you with him.

The world twisted. The sharp pull of Apparition coiled around his ribs, wrenching them through the dark, until—

Home.

Sebastian’s flat was silent. Dark. The shift from the crowded club to the emptiness of his space was jarring.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was your breathing. Uneven. Shallow. Sebastian’s stomach twisted.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, and he didn’t want to let go, but after a second, he forced himself to loosen his grip. A silent offering. A choice. And after a beat, you pulled away.

Sebastian felt it like a wound. The warmth of your skin slipped from his grasp, and the absence of it left something hollow in his chest.

But he didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t let it show. Because this wasn’t about him.

He unsure of what to do now, though. How to talk to you, what he was even supposed to say. He felt like he was balancing on the edge of something sharp, a thin, precarious line between giving you space and giving you what you needed—except he didn’t know what you needed.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice hoarse, heavy. “Let's sit you down. Get you comfortable.”

He turned toward the living room, motioning toward the couch as he moved. “I’ll—” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I’ll get you something else to wear.”

But before he could take more than two steps, you shook your head.

Sebastian hesitated. “You don’t—”

“I’ll go with you,” you murmured.

Your voice was quiet. Unsteady. But certain.

Sebastian blinked, thrown off. He didn’t understand. You had to be exhausted, had to be drained, and the couch was right there, waiting.

But you weren’t moving toward it. You were waiting for him. And something in your expression—something small, something subtle—made the words click in his mind.

You didn’t want to be alone.

He swallowed hard then nodded. "Okay, come on.”

When he turned toward his bedroom, you followed.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, stepping inside first, letting you follow at your own pace.

Sebastian’s room was… messy. Books stacked haphazardly on his nightstand, a half-open wardrobe in the corner, a few stray clothes abandoned on the chair near the window.

He ignored it all. Went straight for the dresser.

He rifled through the drawers, trying to find something soft, something comfortable. Something that wouldn’t remind you of tonight, that wouldn’t feel like a weight pressing against your skin.

A worn sweater. Sweatpants. That would work.

He turned, holding them out for you. “Here.”

You hesitated. You weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was down, locked on the clothes in his hands like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He softened his voice. "If you want something else, just say the word.”

Then, quietly, almost too soft to hear.

“Can you... will you help me?”

Sebastian stilled. For a second, he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

Help you?

His first instinct was confusion. You’d flinched from Ominis outside. You hadn’t wanted him near you. Hadn’t wanted to be touched. After what happened, Sebastian had assumed you’d want privacy, that you wouldn’t want to be seen at all.

But then he looked at you, really looked at you, and he understood.

Maybe, right now, this wasn’t about not wanting to be touched. Maybe it was that you didn't want to touch it. Didn’t want to unfasten the dress yourself, didn’t want to peel the fabric from your skin, didn’t want to register the places it had been touched, gripped, pulled by someone who had no fucking right.

Sebastian exhaled, slow and careful, schooling his expression into something even.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Turn around for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling where you clutched the hem of the sweater he’d handed you. But then you did, shifting slightly, your back to him.

Sebastian took a slow step closer, hands hovering just behind your shoulders, giving you the chance to change your mind.

But you didn’t move away.

So he gently, carefully, reached for the zipper at your back.

And fuck, he’d imagined this before. Ten thousand times, maybe more. Peeling the layers off you slowly, seeing what was underneath, watching the fabric slip down the curves of your body. His hands, his, mapping the warmth of your skin as he uncovered inch after inch, drinking in the sight of you like he’d been starving for it.

But this—this wasn’t like that.

This was the first time he had ever done this, maybe the only time he ever would if he didn't get his shit together, and the circumstances were so utterly, sickeningly wrong that it made his chest feel hollow.

He wasn’t looking at you with desire. He wasn’t seeing the expanse of your skin the way he would have if things had been different.

Seeing you like this just hurt.

The fabric was still warm from your body, but that wasn’t what made his stomach twist. It was the broken strap, the torn seam, the evidence of what had happened—of what he hadn’t been able to stop sooner.

Slowly, he dragged the zipper down.

The dress loosened, slipping slightly off your shoulders, the weight of it threatening to pull away completely—and for a second, he panicked, his brain scrambling to make sure he wasn’t making this worse for you, that he wasn’t exposing more than you were comfortable with—but you stayed still.

So, with a deep breath and slow, careful movements, he tugged the dress down, guiding it past your arms, your waist, your hips. The fabric slipped easily, pooling at your feet.

His stomach twisted. Seeing it like this—abandoned, discarded—it felt like something sick and wrong. Because that dress had looked so fucking beautiful on you. Had clung to you like a dream, had made him ache. Had made him stare.

And now... now, it was nothing but a reminder of what happened.

“Step out of it, love,” he murmured, voice low and gentle despite the ache in his chest.

You obeyed, lifting one foot, then the other.

Sebastian grabbed the discarded fabric from the floor and tossed it far away—out of sight, across the room, like it didn’t deserve to be near you.

Then he picked up the sweatpants from the bed.

"Step in," he murmured.

You did. The sweater came next.

"Arms up for me."

You obeyed again, and he tugged the sweater over your head, guiding it gently over your arms, down your torso, covering you, shielding you from whatever still lingered on your skin.

The moment it was on, Sebastian exhaled deeply.

"All done."

You let out a breath. A slow, shaky thing. Then, for the first time since entering his flat, you met his gaze.

And Sebastian felt his chest cave in. Because you still looked so shaken. Still looked wrecked. But the difference was, you were here now. Fully.

"Thank you."

Your voice was small. Quiet. But present.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the unbearable ache in his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Of course.”

You shifted slightly, like you wanted to say something else, but the words didn’t come. Instead, your arms wrapped around yourself, small, like you were still trying to make yourself disappear.

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to touch you. Wanted to reach out, wanted to pull you into his chest and hold you there until the shaking stopped.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

So, instead, he exhaled carefully, ran a hand through his hair, and nodded toward the doorway. “Come on,” he said, voice softer now. “Let me make you some tea.”

You blinked at him, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to you. But after a second, you nodded.

So, he turned, leading you back into the dimly lit apartment, moving toward the kitchen. And you followed. Because you still trusted him.

Sebastian pulled open the cabinet and reached for your mug—the oversized one printed with tiny blue flowers, the one you always used when you visited. It had been a birthday gift from him last year, and after unwrapping it, you’d immediately set it in his cupboard and said, This one stays here.

He set it down on the counter and filled the kettle, flipping the switch with the practiced ease of routine. Something about the motion, the normalcy of it, settled the restless tension in his chest.

His hands worked on autopilot—pulling down the tin of loose tea, measuring out just the right amount, stirring in the fixings the way you liked. Far too much sugar and milk for his taste, but he didn’t hesitate, mixing it the exact way you always did.

By the time he turned around and pressed the mug into your hands, steam curling between you, he finally caught the way your fingers trembled as you curled them around the ceramic.

And then—soft, broken, barely above a whisper—

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian went completely still, something sharp, something furious, coiling in his chest.

“What?”

Your gaze dropped, staring into the depths of your tea. “I—I don’t know. Just for all of this. For ruining your night. For—”

“Don’t.”

He took the mug from your hands, just for a moment, long enough to force you to look at him. His brows furrowed, his mouth tight, like the words physically hurt to say aloud.

“You don’t apologize. Not for this. Not to anyone.”

You swallowed, hard, but you didn’t look away.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice quieter now, but no less fierce, his grip tightening briefly around the handle of your mug before handing it back. “Not one single fucking bit of it. Do you understand?”

You hesitated, like you weren’t sure you could understand. And fuck, that made something ugly rise in his throat.

Sebastian had never felt anger like this—like something helpless and raging, burning at the back of his skull, at the hollow space in his chest where you had been hurt and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

You sniffled, swiping your sleeve across your eyes, shaking your head like you were mad at yourself. “I should’ve—” Your voice was thick, strained. “I should’ve pushed him away harder. Been more assertive. Asked one of the other girls to come to the bathroom with me, or—or been more aware, or not drank so much, or—”

“Stop.”

You shook your head again, watery, miserable. “I just—”

“No.” His voice was hard, unyielding. “This wasn't your fault, there's no magic combination of things you could have done differently to make someone else not be a fucking piece of shit. It wouldn’t have mattered, because he's still a monster. And you—” His voice softened, just a fraction, his chest aching. “You did nothing wrong.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing.

“It wasn’t even that bad.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened.

You let out a wet, unsteady laugh, shaking your head. “It could’ve been worse. I just— I just froze because of Tyler.”

The second the words were out of your mouth, Sebastian saw it—the way your face froze, the way your lips parted slightly, like you hadn’t meant to say that. Like you wished you could take it back.

But it was too late.

Sebastian’s brain snapped back to a year ago.

The breakup.

How you had shown up at his door, quiet and withdrawn, a forced little smile on your lips as you told him your relationship was over. No details. No explanation. Just done.

How he had asked if you were okay, and you had nodded, too quickly, and said you didn’t want to talk about it.

And he’d let it go. Because you always told him things when you were ready. But now—now he was seeing it, the way your shoulders curled inward, the way you were smaller, like you wanted to disappear.

And something inside him snapped.

What the fuck had happened back then?

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and controlled. “Tell me,” he said, voice low, but steady.

You blinked. “What?”

“Tell me what happened. Please.”

You hesitated, curling your hands around the mug like it was the only thing keeping you tethered. “It’s not—” You swallowed, eyes darting away. “It’s not important.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Minimize it.” His voice came out rougher than he meant, but he couldn’t help it. “I need to know, love.”

At the nickname, your fingers tightened around the mug, just slightly. You opened your mouth, then closed it. Sebastian waited.

He’d wait all fucking night if he had to.

And then, finally, you exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. “It was at a party,” you murmured, not looking at him. “I—I don’t know why I froze tonight. It wasn’t even the same. Not really. I just… the moment he grabbed me, I was back there.”

Sebastian hated how softly, how passively you said it. Like it wasn’t something that had haunted you. Like it wasn’t something that still had its fucking claws in you.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t push, because you were still talking, and if you stopped, he didn’t know when you’d let yourself say these words again.

“I told him no,” you whispered. “Tyler. I told him I didn’t want to go upstairs with him, that I was tired. But he kept—” You broke off, shaking your head. “He just kept talking, kept trying to get me to change my mind. And I just—I shut down. I just let him. I didn’t fight, I didn’t—”

Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore.

“I swear to God,” he said, voice hoarse, pained, “if you say you should’ve done something differently, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Your throat bobbed, eyes flicking up to his.

“He was supposed to stop," Sebastian insisted. "That’s it. That’s the only thing that was supposed to happen.”

You just stared at him, wide-eyed, like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. Like no one had ever said it to you so plainly before. And then, finally, you spoke—so softly, so small.

“But I let him.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. “No,” he said, voice firm, unwavering. “You didn’t.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, trying to say the right thing, because fuck, he couldn’t mess this up.

“If someone keeps pushing, keeps coaxing, keeps pulling you in when you’ve already said no—you didn’t let them. They took advantage of you.”

The words sat heavy between you, and Sebastian saw the way they hit you. Your grip on the mug went white-knuckled, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, and then you were crying.

Silent at first—just the shake of your shoulders, just the quiver in your lips. But then your breath shuddered, and your face crumpled, and the first broken sob escaped.

Sebastian stood there, feeling useless. Helpless.

Should he reach for you? Should he give you space? Did you want to be touched, or would it only make things worse? His hands hovered, twitching at his sides, unsure. And fuck, he hated it. Hated not knowing what to do, hated feeling like he was just standing here while you broke apart in front of him.

But then—

You set the mug down too quickly, tea sloshing over the rim, spilling onto the counter, and Sebastian barely had time to react before you collapsed into him.

His breath hitched, his arms automatically wrapping around you as you buried yourself against his chest, shaking, small.

And then he wasn’t thinking anymore. He just held you. Tightly. Protectively.

One arm wrapped firm around your back, the other cradling your head, fingers threading gently into your hair, like maybe if he held you close enough, it would put you back together.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, and Sebastian closed his eyes, exhaling shakily against the crown of your head.

What the fuck do I say?

What words could he possibly put together that would make any of this better? He quickly realized there were none.

So he didn’t speak.

Didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless reassurances, didn’t tell you to calm down, didn’t tell you it would be okay. Instead, he just held you, strong and steady, like a wall—one you could press into, lean against, fall apart against.

Your breathing was uneven, shaky against his chest. Each sharp inhale like it was trying to hold back the flood.

Sebastian pressed his cheek to your hair, gentle, careful. “I got you,” he murmured, voice raw. “I got you.”

You let out a sound, a soft, aching thing, half a sob, half relief, as the tension in your shoulders cracked, your weight fully sinking into him, like you’d been trying to hold yourself up all this time and just couldn’t anymore.

“I got you,” he whispered again, like maybe, if he said it enough times, you’d believe him.

You stood there for a long time. You didn’t pull away, and Sebastian didn't let go. He would have stood there all night if you needed him to.

The tea sat abandoned on the counter, growing cold, the soft hum of the refrigerator filling the air while the kitchen clock ticked away the minutes.

Your breathing—ragged at first, gasping, uneven— slowly, so slowly, steadied, fading into quiet sniffles. And that was when Sebastian finally moved. Carefully.

He slid one arm under your legs, the other holding you steady against him. “Up we go, love.”

You let out a soft noise of surprise as he scooped you up, pressing your face instinctively against his shoulder.

“You don’t—”

“Shush” he murmured gently, affectionately, and you didn’t fight him as he carried you across the room, lowering you onto the couch.

But the moment he tried to pull back, your fingers tightened in his shirt again.

Sebastian obeyed, sitting down and letting you tuck yourself against him, curling into his chest. His arms wound around you again, warm and solid. His hand moved instinctively to your hair, fingers slipping through the strands, slow, soothing strokes.

It had always been this easy, hadn’t it?

Sebastian wasn’t sure how long you both stayed like that. Long enough that your breathing evened out. Long enough that his own heart stopped pounding with anger and ache.

And then, after a long silence—your voice, quiet, hesitant:

“I’ve been stupid.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “Don’t—”

Your hand shot up, pressing lightly against his mouth, and whatever Sebastian had been about to say died instantly.

His breath caught. His lips parted slightly against your palm, startled, thrown completely off balance. But it wasn’t the touch that had him frozen.

It was your eyes.

Raw. Red-rimmed from crying, but so fucking clear. Like you had figured something out—like whatever had been sitting between you for so long, uncertain and unspoken, was now suddenly blindingly obvious.

“...You know I love you, don't you?”

Sebastian froze.

He did know. At least, sort of.

He’d always known you loved him as your best friend, as your constant, as the one person you always turned to. He had felt it in the way you sought him out first in a crowded room, in the way you always made one too many cups of tea just in case he wanted one. He had seen it in the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, in the way your hand lingered when you touched him.

But he didn't know if you loved him as more.

Of course, he'd imagined your confession the late hours of the night, when exhaustion blurred the edges of his thoughts. In the quiet spaces between glances, in the way his chest always felt too full when you laughed. In the way he always waited for you to arrive at his door.

But he always imagined hearing those words for the first time in a moment of joy, in the golden hush of a summer afternoon, in the warmth of a stolen moment where nothing hurt, nothing felt too heavy.

His throat bobbed. “You—are you saying—”

But the words felt too big, too heavy.

You huffed a laugh, sniffling softly as a stray tear rolled down your cheek. “I was so stupid. Maybe if I had just told you how I felt, if I had just—”

Sebastian cupped your cheek before you could finish your sentence, his palm warm and steady against your tear-streaked skin.

His mind was racing, his chest too full, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something so fierce, so all-consuming, so fucking relieved that it almost hurt.

Because you meant it. You loved him. Not just as his best friend. Not just as his constant. But as something more.

He searched your face, memorizing everything—the way your lashes were still damp, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your breath trembled under his touch.

And fuck, he didn’t know what to say.

He hadn’t been ready for you this moment to happen like this. Not when your voice was still raw from crying. Not when your hands still shook in your lap. Not when he had spent the last hour trying to piece you back together after something that should have never happened. Not when you deserved so much better than this moment.

He couldn't stop his mind from imagining what this would have been like if things had been different.

If tonight had just been another night.

If you had just come over, curled up with him like you always did, nudged your socked feet against his under a blanket, laughed at something stupid on TV. If he had turned to you and just fucking said it, just let it be easy.

But it wasn’t easy.

And yet, his the words left his mouth in a breath, like they had been waiting there, like they had been sitting at the back of his throat for years, clawing at his ribs, aching to be spoken. Because they had.

"Fuck, I love you too."

And the second they were out—

Relief.

Like something had cracked open inside him, something tight and suffocating finally letting go, leaving his chest too light and too full all at once. Because it was the truest thing he had ever said.

But right behind that relief came the guilt, because he should have said it sooner.

He should have said it a thousand times before now—should have said it when you were laughing, when you were happy, when you were light and warm and untouched by pain.

He should have said it last week, when you had fallen asleep on his couch, curled up with his sweater wrapped around you, mumbling something incoherent before sighing in contentment.

He should have said it months ago, when you had grabbed his hand without thinking at the crowded market, weaving through people like you had never once considered not holding onto him.

He should have said it years ago, when you kicked his ass in that very first duel.

Sebastian huffed a humorless laugh, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "God, I wish I’d just told you sooner. Over a bowl of popcorn, some dumb movie playing in the background.” The corners of his mouth twitched, a rueful little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I imagined it a thousand times—telling you. Watching your eyes light up, seeing you smile like you do when you think I’m being stupid.”

Your lips quivered, the hint of a smile breaking through the tears.

“I wish it had been easy," he said. "Because you deserve easy. You deserve soft and gentle and everything good.”

You leaned into his touch, your hands reaching up to cover his. Your eyes searched his—gentle, knowing, certain.

“Easy’s never really been on brand for us, has it?”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard for half a second. And then a breathless, broken sound left him, something between a scoff and a laugh, something small and raw and achingly fond.

Because you were right.

Since the very beginning, since the moment you had first collided into his life, it had never been simple. Never straightforward. There had always been something else—a complication, an obstacle, an unsaid feeling caught between glances and lingering touches that neither of you were ever brave enough to name.

You sniffled, wiping at your face with the sleeve of his sweater—the one you were drowning in, and fuck, you were so beautiful even now, despite the weight of the night still lingering in your shoulders.

“Do I wish none of this had happened?” Your voice was quiet, raw. “Of course I do. But fuck, Sebastian, you were there. You're always there." You gave a watery laugh, the smallest, softest thing. "When I'm at my best, when I'm at my worst. It's always been you. And I—"

You exhaled shakily, voice thick with too much. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there tonight,” your voice dropped to a whisper, eyes locked onto his. “There's no one else I would have gone to. No one else I would have let see me like this. No one else I trust the way I trust you.”

Sebastian’s throat felt tight, his breath coming uneven, chest aching under the weight of realization.

This wasn’t just about tonight. Or last night. Or last week.

It was about every night. Every stolen glance, every quiet moment, every time you had reached for him first. It was in the way you always found him before anyone else, in the way you always chose him, in the way you always trusted him—with the good, with the bad, with everything.

When things went well, when they didn’t, when you needed comfort, when you needed a co-conspirator, when you needed someone to just be there—it had always been him.

It settled into him all at once—the weight of years pressing against his ribs, filling every empty space inside him that had ever questioned what he meant to you.

Because it had always been this. Not a revelation. Not a shift. Not something new.

It had simply always been.

And you must have seen something in his face—the way he looked at you like he wanted to fall apart, because you gave him a small, wobbly smile, something barely there, something hopeful, something real.

“Say something, Sallow," you teased.

Sebastian let out a breathless, unsteady laugh, shaking his head. His eyes burned, his own tears threatening to fall. He let his hands move—one tangling in the fabric at your chest, the other sliding to the nape of your neck.

He leaned in, slow, deliberate, like he was giving you the chance to pull away, like he was making absolutely sure—but your hands curled into his shirt, pulling him in the rest of the way, and then—

Then you kissed him.

It was soft. Hesitant. Testing. Like neither of you could quite believe this was finally happening.

But then Sebastian felt you melt into him, felt the warmth of you, the way your grip on him tightened, the way your lips parted—

And suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant at all.

A soft sound rumbled in Sebastian's throat, something relieved, something grateful, something aching with all the things he had never let himself say, and he kissed you like his life depended on it, because maybe it did. Like he had been waiting for this for years, because he had. Like you were the only fucking thing in the world that mattered, because you were.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.

Sebastian huffed a soft laugh, his lips brushing yours. "…'bout time, huh?"

You let out a wobbly, teary laugh, nuzzling closer. "About time."

And Sebastian held you—tightly, unshakably, like letting go wasn’t even a possibility, like something fundamental in him wouldn’t allow it.

Because maybe this wasn’t how he had ever imagined this moment. Maybe it wasn’t wrapped in golden light, in laughter, in the warmth of an easy, stolen moment where everything was simple and good.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten to plan for it, hadn’t had the chance to say it first, hadn’t gotten to look at you when you were smiling, when you were happy, and tell you what had been the truth for so damn long.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be saying I love you in the aftermath of something that had hurt you.

But this was still you. And this was still him. And that was all that mattered.

Because love wasn’t just about the easy moments. It wasn’t just about the days when the sun was shining, when your laughter came freely, when things felt light.

Love was this too—love was holding on, love was being there, love was standing in the wreckage of something awful and saying I’ve got you. I’m here. And I’m not leaving.

Sebastian pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his grip tight, his fingers curled against the fabric of his own sweater on your frame, holding you close, keeping you safe.

And he knew, with every piece of himself, that he wasn’t letting go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

[jksian]

When the end comes

You loved him with all your heart, held onto the person you knew will never be yours; but, the only regret you had was, you weren't able to tell him about those feelings.

Pairing: best friends brother JK x reader

Genre: ANGSTY, unrequited love

W/c: mid length?

warnings: depressing thoughts and implied suicidal thoughts, character dea*h, workplace harrasment, illness, family drama and step-parent, one sided love from oc' s side, tattoo artist Jk, age gape

A/N- This story is incomplete and I don't intend to continue it, but I'm still posting it because I wanted to share it with you guys and since many of you expressed your desire to read it :⁠-⁠)

It was during the autumn season when he first met you.

Not in a literal sense; but that was the day he thought he finally come to knew you. A side of you, he never thought he would be able to witness.

Just like the sight in front of him right now.

He did not even fathom the idea of seeing you like this. Beautiful eyes which once shined so brightly under the sun; are now closed. Not even a hint of flickering of your eyelashes which you usually do while being extremely nervous.

Now, autumn has returned again; but, despite the comforting warmth of the cozy weather being replaced by the harsh wind blowing away the leaves from the trees, creating the atmosphere unbearably gloomy and dull.

Because the warmth is gone, along with you.

…

15 years ago…

“Why is he coming, now!? Fuck, I have to meet Sam!” Jia was beyond frustrated after knowing that her brother was coming to picked her up from the school.

Both you and Jia had been friends since your childhood. From being scolded by teachers to helping each other in anything and everything and being the ‘crime in partners’ duo, everyone in your school knew you two were inseparable.

She was always been a free-spirited girl. Generous and helpful, she was kind of a friend who stick by your side in bad times. Other than that, there were many good things about her and one of those were, her brother.

Jeon Jungkook.

The first time when you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t able to remove the image of his glowing face ever since then. He was gorgeous as well as kind. You were smitten by his beauty. He was popular among girls. With a face like that, it was a very common fact, girls often got trapped by his good-looks which wielded them to the world of imagination.

And, you were one of those girls.

You often found yourself daydreaming about him, made silly scenarios in your little head. Your weekly visits to his sister’s house and getting to watch him closely more than any of those girls could, doesn’t help with your increasing amount of fake scenarios growing inside of your mind.

It was a stupid little crush, but you still held onto the possibilities of those cringe worthy romantic stories in your head to manifest it into reality.

Whenever he was around, every time you got a little bit shy but you tried your best to hide it from others.

“Someone clearly isn’t happy to see me.” Your best friend’s brother sing song those words towards his sister, pointing out her scowl which was very much evident on her face upon seeing him. The fact that she was planning on meeting her so-called-date in the name of fake extra classes would be caught red-handed, made her panicked and mad.

“H-hello.” You asked him even though your heart was racing at the speed of 100 mph and your hand was sweating like the Niagara waterfall, you still conjured up some courage to start the conversation.

“Moon? How are you?” He immediately replied with a sweet smile on his face. People often compared his face with the bunny and you can say why. There are some significant similarities.

You got a little bit flustered whenever he used that name. He gave that name to you because you loved the moon. So much so that you escaped from your school with your Jia to watch the night sky.

It was the first time you witnessed the true beauty of the moon. Sitting on the edge of the river near her house, you both admired the shinning moon light spreading on the water as it sparkled.

You both got scolded for your little escaped not just from your parents but your teachers also. From that moment, he gave you the name ‘moon.’

He was in his sophomore year of college, got an scholarship to study in abroad. It was winter at that time when he got back in his own country during holidays. Even though the atmosphere was cold, Jungkook radiated warmth wherever he goes. He was always been the one who shined brightly in whatever he did.

Jia’s endless pleading didn’t helped much in convincing her brother, so she didn’t had any choice but to went back home. Through out the way to her home, she kept on cussing him.

“You go on dates too! Even, you have a girlfriend!” That was the first time you experienced your first heart break. It felt like someone had put a knife into your heart.

“So? Are you the same age as me?” Jungkook reasoned with her but the thing you noticed that, he didn’t denied it. Your friend wasn’t lying.

The brother-sister duo busy their selves in an argument about “Jia should go on a date or not” where you went silent, had a emotional turmoil within you. It was so random, your little heart weren’t prepare for that news.

The thought of your crush loving someone else who was never gonna be you, shattered your heart. That day, you cried your heart out into your pillow at night when no one was around to heard your broken sobs.

…

Thanksgiving came and it was time for celebration. It was the time for eating delicious food, show our gratitude to the universe and spending time with our loved ones.

But, you weren’t particularly enjoying.

Every year, the Jeon’s and your family celebrated most of the occasions together, due to your father and Mr. Jeon being friends apart from your friendship with their daughter. But , this year, one more family joined in. You didn’t mind if it was just another random someone, but it wasn’t someone random.

The food was excellent as always. Mrs. Jeon had always been a great cook. All the food was mouth-watering but still, you found your self concentrating more on the scene unfolding in front of you rather than your food.

Jungkook invited his girlfriend to his house on Thanksgiving. That was the first time you saw the girl, your crush was in love with.

She was beautiful would be an understatement. Long, silky hair which was dyed brown, tall with a sweet personality. Anyone could have said on the first glance at them that, they were made for each other. There were many similarities between them too, like both were studying at the same college, Jungkook being art major and she was in the literature department, both belonged to the same city but never met each other before and the most importantly, both were at the same age.

Where you were four years younger than him, basically same age as his sister.

He probably think of you as his sister. No. Definitely he did.

You were burning with rage when you saw them holding hands. Even though everyone was around them, they didn’t seem to care much. It also seemed like Jungkook’s family liked her so much. They were happy that their son have met someone who made him happy. Both their families were happy about their relationship.

When it was evening, everyone was chattering and laughing inside the house but you were on the balcony, standing alone. You couldn’t help but cry. It was too much for you. You’d been crying for days now, but now that you’ve seen his girlfriend, there was no denying that it was real. Their relationship was real and you didn’t had a chance anymore.

“Moon is watching the moon?” You didn’t noticed when Jungkook came here. You abruptly wiped your tears away from your cheeks. He came closer to you and stand beside you, you took a step away, tried harder to hide your face from him.

When he noticed you hadn’t answered his question, he continued “I picked the right name for you, didn’t I?” he asked again, tried to humor you but you were nowhere near to laugh or even smile at his jokes.

You were standing there silently, not staring at the sky anymore. You lowered your gaze and your head fall downwards, shoulders slumped. He must had sensed that something was wrong with you, that’s why he asked “Hey, are you okay–,”

Before he can finish his sentence, an ugly sob slipped past your mouth, unable to held it back anymore. This time he didn’t held back, he placed his hand on your shoulder and made you look at him. You were insistent on not to face him so he settled with just holding you by your shoulder.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks without any resistance but his hands felt comforting even though he was the one hurting you at that time.

“What happened? Does someone hurt you?” you could sense the concern in his voice, his voice was so soft like he was afraid of hurting you. That made you cry even harder.

“____, please tell me what happened?” This time he was rubbing your arms up and down, a gesture of comfort. He patiently stand there until you calmed down and was ready to talk.

When he saw you finally wiping your tears away, he took a loose strand of your hair and tuck it behind your ear. That little affection felt like someone poked a needle into your heart.

“I like someone.”

You whisper to him , tried your hardest to not burst out crying again. You saw his expression turned into confusion, so you continued “But, He doesn’t like me.”

Again, your eyes were filling with tears. The image of them together encrusted into your mind will always hunt your down for sure.

Jungkook seemed to contemplate on how to respond to you. Then, he asked “How could you know that he doesn’t likes you?”

“Because, he has a girlfriend.”

Jungkook was taken aback by your statement. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, like he was sad about the situation you were in.

“I- are you sure? Also, do I know them by any chance?”

You avoided his gaze but nodded to his question. You were afraid that he might know about your secret crush on him. What if, he hates you after knowing that he was the person you likes?

No no, you couldn’t let that happen.

“how old is he?”

“Same age as yours. And, I’m sure that he has a girlfriend. I’ve seen them together the other day. You- you might know him but I don’t know…” You shifted on your feet, fidgeted under his curious gaze. He was staring at you, you felt that even though you were looking at the other direction.

“May I know his nam– ,”

“No.” Before he could ask the question, you dismissed immediately. There’s no way in hell you were gonna tell him that.

After seeing your defensive state, he didn’t push that question onto you anymore.

“Okay. You know, you’re a beautiful girl, right? You’ll find someone better than him in the future who will love you.” His smile was surreal, he was looking at you like you were the only one existed in the world, Eyes so gentle.

He was such a kind person, always helping who was in need, from offering jacket to a random person at a cold night to rescuing you from getting embarrassed in front of thousands of people on your first day of period. Even if you tried to assume that he was being caring only to you, that you’re special to him, you knew it wasn’t true.

You were just a random girl who was happened to be his sister’s friend.

He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to you. Your tears were as stubborn as you were, “If he is my age then, that means he is older than you –,” the realization hit him.

“–___, he didn’t do anything to you right?” his worrisome expression made you think that why does that matter? His brows were pinched as he searched for your eyes.

“N-no, why are you asking that?”

“You should be careful from people, especially older guys. I’m not saying all the older guys are bad, but you haven’t see much of the world yet, so it might be difficult for you to identify who is good. You also haven’t matured enough–,”

“What do you mean by that!?” you got offended by the those words. Matureness doesn’t comes from age, also why was he acting like a seventy years old grandpa?

He got off guard from the sudden change in your tone. Shifted on his feet, he tried to make you understand his prospective, “I mean, many guys in our college targets younger girls like you to take advantage of, and… I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“W-why?” you wiped your nose with his handkerchief as you asked.

“Who wants something bad happens to the people they care about?” his smile was so genuine, the way he looked at you back then, made you feel things you’d never felt for anyone else.

That night you realized that, maybe, your silly little crush on him wasn’t just a crush. It was more than that. Something that might ruin you in the end but, still you let that thing to engulfed you completely.

That night, you found comfort in the person who was the reason behind your heart break.

…

That year, your father got transferred to a different country, so without a doubt, it was the time when you part your ways with your best friend.

It was painful, parting ways with the friend you’ve spend your almost entire life, but what’s more painful, was not able to see your childhood love ever again.

That was the last time you saw Jungkook on your way to the airport, walking hand in hand with his girlfriend.

You didn’t knew back then when someone’s in love, how they looked like. That radiant smile on his face and the glitter in his eyes when he looked at her shined so brightly made you think that, maybe it was the face of a man in love.

But, the sad thing was, you were not the reason behind that smile on his face.

…

8 years ago

Life wouldn’t be anymore shittier.

After you left your country, you tried your hardest to overcome and forget about Jungkook.

You left everything behind and those memories you’d made with some of the closest people there, weren’t leaving your mind even for some moments. Every little thing you did back then, reminded you of them, especially Jungkook.

Still, you managed.

You did graduated from a college and got a job. Everything was going fine until you found out that you had pancreatic cancer.

Doctors said that it wasn’t in it’s last stage yet but after thousands of medications and appointments for half an year, before that day, they declared that you only had 10 months to live only.

Not even an year.

It was so unfair. You had dreams and goals which you still had to achieve but life had other plans for you.

Your health wasn’t well enough to maintain a 9-5 job, but, you still did it because you didn’t wanted to be a burden on your family.

You were twenty-four when you realized your life was going to end soon.

“What is this!? Are you gonna present this in front of the client?” Your boss shouted at you, that bald-faced nuisance who doesn’t even know how to pronounce ‘future’. Yeah, his future was as clear as his empty bald-head.

You’ve submitted the same project for the third time, because he wasn’t ‘satisfied’ with your work, but the truth was, he doesn��t even turned the first page of it to check. Clearly, he was just messing around with you or to be honest, harassing you.

The reason behind it – rejection. You rejected his offer of ‘get a promotion just by spending a night with him’. He was adamant on sleeping with you. His flirty remarks wasn’t very subtle, you knew this pervert would come to this point at sometime.

“Make this again!” he threw the file across the table towards you. It hits you and you cursed under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, his chimpanzee like face contort with anger once again.

He got a pretty punchable face.

“Have you checked my project, sir?” there was mockery in your voice which his one brain cell wasn’t able to comprehend.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” his brows were pinched together, flared his nose like a fucking dragon.

“I submitted the same project for the third time yet, you didn’t noticed that. Is your ego got hurt so much so that after my rejection, you’re doing this pity things to me now?”

His face goes through seven stages of grief, fear flashed through his eyes but, soon turned into rage. He abruptly stood up from his chair, banging his fist on the table, “What the hell are you talking about!? Have you forgotten your place? Don’t cross the limit, ____. You’re nothing, a good for nothing! You should know that, I’m your senior here, talk to me with respect! Or –,”

“Or what? Are you gonna complain? You know, I’m also going to complain about something…” You said, your tone as calm as ever but eyes hard as a rock.

He knew, what filthy texts he had sent you and obviously, you didn’t deleted them even though he had told you to. You thought, he might explode right at that moment out of anger, “Are you threatening me? Huh? What? Are you gonna complain about me now?”

“Yes, you asshole.”

“Bitch–,” He was going to hit you with a file but before he could do that, your colleagues interrupted and he stopped midway, pretending like nothing happened.

You stormed out of his office, never minding him calling your name continuously. Everyone in your office looked at you like you’d grown two horns on your head. You didn’t gave them any attention and straight up went to the CEO’s office.

He had threatened you countless times about how you were gonna lose your job if you don’t work how he wants you to, accordingly.

But, you had nothing to lose anymore.

After you filed a complain and submitted the resignation letter, you left that company. For good.

On the way to your home, you called your parents and told the you left your job. Your step-mom was more furious than your own dad.

Of course, you knew that would happen but what was the benefit of continuing the job when you won’t be alive anymore.

You hang up the call as soon as you heard her shouting from the other side.

You felt lost. What were you doing all these years?

Barely surviving.

You didn’t even know how it felt to live life. Not surviving, living.

All you did was, earning money with your fragile health to make it stronger but instead, it worsen even more at the end.

Now, you were on the brink of death.

Is it okay to leave everything behind? You thought. It wasn’t like you had much left in your life anyway. Your parents were stressed all the time because of you. Your sister were depressed after knowing about your condition.

Is it too soon to die in this moment? You asked yourself while standing at the edge of the bridge which connected two cities together. Staring at the river below, almost 136 meters high. You kept on staring blankly at the way water flows by, wondering where it might took you if you jump at this instance.

Before, your intrusive thoughts controlled you, your eyes landed on a bird, it’s wing crippled. It kept on chirping and tried to fly, but every time it does, landed on the surface of the barrier.

You slowly shifted closer to it, not wanted to scared it away and held it in your palms gently, “Hey, let me bandage you, okay? You will be able to fly again then!”

Fortunately, you had a small box of fast aid kit with you. Being a full-time patient and a regular visitor to the hospital, you got accustomed with the medical kits and medicines.

You swiftly bandaged the wounded wing carefully while rubbing its back.

“Do you have a name?”

The bird wiggled into your hold a little. You realized how dumb that question was, but you’d always liked talking to animals even though they couldn’t reply back to you or even understood you. All they did was, stare at your face dumbfoundedly, probably judging the crazy women in front of them.

After you were done, you released it from your hold and you saw the bird flying again.

The happiness you felt at that moment was indescribable. It felt like, you were cured from your deathly disease and your death sentence has been halt for a long period of time.

You felt like, you could live your life, just like that bird.

You felt…alive for a moment.

You didn’t knew when you started crying, tears ran down on your cheeks, on their own. You saw the bird fly happily. It wasn’t fully recovered yet, but still, the determination and courage ignited something inside of you.

At that moment, you regain the courage to live your life.

Not surviving anymore but, living your life to its fullest. At least for once.

…

Convincing your family wasn’t easy, especially your step-mother.

You had decided that, you want to spend your last days of your life in your hometown, which meant, you all had to move back to your old country where, once you left everything behind.

“I want to live my life before I die, dad. I want to live and do all those things while I’m still alive… because I don’t want regret it on my last days. Please, let me fulfil all those dreams before I left this earth?”

You father rarely saw you crying since you’d grown up. Not that you often cried in front of people, you always preferred crying silently in the dark of your room, hiding from everyone.

It was surprising to him.

But, the most surprising thing was, when you saw tears in his eyes. Your father was someone who believed that, crying was a sign of weakness.

But, he didn’t showed that to you, hiding his face from you, he said, “Then go, start packing your bags.”

You didn’t believe your own ears, did you heard it right?

You couldn’t contained your excitement as you hugged your father from behind and said, “Thank you.”

Tears breamed from your eyes after realizing that, finally you were going back to your country.

…

The streets still looked almost the same where you had spent your entire childhood, just not as much calm and warm as it used to be.

So many residents were built there now, it was more hectic and crowded. Thankfully, your old house was on sale at that time. The owner whom your father had sold that house to, wanted to sell it and your father bought it.

The walls of that house held so many memories, many untold truths and evidence of your cruel sleepless nights. The whispers of heart break buried in a corner of your room. All those memories came back to your mind and you found yourself day-dreaming about your old crush again.

“Where Jungkook might be right now?”

“What are you thinking about?” your sister came up behind you, noticing your eyes fixed on the direction of his house.

Your sister had graduated at the same year when you guys moved here. You were more than happy that she decided to start her career here and stayed with you, at least for that reason, you were able to spent your last days with her.

She knew about every single thing happened in your life and Jungkook wasn’t exceptional.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t lie. You were thinking about Jungkook, right?”

Oh god. Hearing that name after so many years, felt surreal. It only intensified the longing you were feeling all those years. Your eyes slightly widened but you dismissed immediately.

“No, you idiot. Go and do your work.”

“You don’t? Okay then, if you say so… but you should probably call Jia, she will be so happy to see you again!”

“I’ll call her later but now, my head is aching! Can you please make me some tea?” you pouted at her, gave her those innocent doe eyes. She glared at you in return, with bombastic side eyes, she left the room.

You giggled and heard her cursing back at you. You laughed a little more at that. Your bond with your sister was special. Something very close to your heart. She was the only family you had, according to you.

Your parents got divorced when you were only twelve years old, so figuring out what was going on and adjusting to the situation was difficult for you. Separating from your mother was especially harder, you thought of her as your best friend but…

No one’s gonna stay with you for forever and you learned it the hard way.

Ever since then, so many things changed in your life. Your father married again in the hope that, you and your sister might be able to experience the motherly love from her, but instead you got more pain and suffering.

She was at your throat for every single second, peace was something you used to crave, if not love. You never felt at home. When you found out about your disease, it was a disaster; but still, all she cared about was money.

How thoughtful!

You decided to take your sister’s advice and called your best friend. After eight years, you were again in your hometown. It was so nostalgic that you got emotional.

All the furniture were yet to be settled, your bed wasn’t ready to be used so you took a seat on your window, staring outside.

As you saw the canvas of the evening sky transforms into a masterpiece of hues, a tapestry of twilight unfolds, painted in soft pastels — a symphony of peach, lavender, and whispers of indigo. That moment felt celestial as your heart filled with an unknown warmth and you found yourself embracing your own body into your arms.

You had called her few times in all those years and she did too; but, with time, the busy schedules and hectic day to day life forced both of you to grew apart. The calls kept on reducing in number and, then it stopped altogether.

The call rang for four times before she picked up. For some moments, you were just staring at each other’s faces, network wasn’t working on your favor so it took time to get a clear picture of her face.

“You’re still alive?” was the first thing she asked you, very typical ‘Jia’ like behavior.

“Yeah, I’m still alive. Thank you very much! How are you?” you humored her and you saw her scoffed.

“You tell me, where were you? Huh? NO calls! NO massages!… were you gone underground or something? Oh no, wait! You forgot about me, right?”

She kept on blabbering her nonsense, falsely accusing you, dramatically thrown tantrums at you. You saw her brows pinched together as she glared at you which was supposed to be intimidating.

“Well, I’m in our hometown.”

“…What?!”

She couldn’t believe your words so you turned the camera around and gave her the view of the street where you guys used to run and play.

You saw her eyes widened and mouth gaped at the view, she scrutinized the area a little bit longer and made sure it was indeed her hometown.

“Fuck, bro! why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you, but well, looks like you’re not here.”

Her face turned into a sad expression from irritation, mirroring your own face.

You knew you would’ve told her, but you genuinely wanted to gave her a surprise with your arrival, in which failed miserably!

“It’s fine, I’m coming home in a few days.” That comforted you to some extent, knowing that you would be able to meet your best friend after all those years finally, before you die. It certainly gave you some comfort.

No one knew about your condition except your family, not even your best friend. The reason being, you wanted a normal life.

You didn’t wanted those sympathetic looks from others or them doing things for your just because you are gonna die soon.

No, you wanted them to act normal, just like they always did.

You didn’t wanted them to felt some urgency or pressure.

You didn’t wanted them to feel bad or guilty for you.

No, you wanted them to treat you normally, just like they had been with you ever since they met you.

Just a normal life before you die, where you can enjoy every second of your life and live it with others. Was that too much to ask for?

“Come back soon then,” Your smile held a sense of nostalgia and melancholy in it and for a brief second, you thought you saw tears in her eyes.

“By the way, have you informed others?” She changed the subject, probably didn’t wanted to cry at that moment of happiness.

“Yeah, we are going to meet at a club in this evening.”

“That’s great! Have fun then and also… is Jay coming?” she smirked at the camera and arched a brow at you.

Having a crush was different but this guy was on another level. He was head over heels for you. You never understood his obsession or love (what he used to say) for you. He was the same age as Jungkook. It wasn’t like he wasn’t good looking, on the contrary, he was charming. A guy for any girl would fall for. Topper of his class with that cute face of his, he got the whole package.

But, you never felt anything for him. So the first time he confessed to you, you straight up said ‘no’. Maybe it was a bit rude, not that you were denying but You never grasped the concept of leaving someone in ambiguity without providing a clear response, especially when it involved feelings.

“Do you want me to bonk you in the head? Why would he come to our reunion party? Come on…he isn’t even belong to our friend circle!” You said in disbelief and she rolled her eyes a little more.

“Dude, he was obsessing over you for such a long time! I’m sure he might be into you after all these year– ,”

“Jia–, you know how I feel about this–,” Yeah, she does. She knew everything, “Can we please drop it?”

She dropped the topic after your pleading. You always got irritated whenever she acted this way, teasing you by someone’s name who had a crush on you, constantly encouraged you to start dating one of them. You being you, never listened to her.

You both talked about things in general after that and then hang up.

Yeah, it was good. If not telling anyone about your sickness helped you live the way you wanted to, then, it’s okay.

As soon as you hang up the call, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You breathed in and out as you tried to endure it. Probably because you hadn’t took your medications yet. That’s why it was happening. You’d accustomed with all this by that time, so it wasn’t any thing new to you.

You were fine.

…

The city you lived in looked different but still, there was a familiarity in it.

Sidewalks hum with activity as people strolled, laughter echoed from cafes, and the distant sounds of traffic created a vibrant urban symphony. The evening air carried a blend of aromas from food vendors, filled your noses trills and made your stomach grumbled.

You met with your school friends at the club 15 minutes away from your house as planned. Coming to a club doesn’t made sense to you, because you weren’t able to drink alcohol, but.. well… you were there because of your… friends.

You sat on a stool which were lined the polished counter, where patrons sipped drinks and shared laughter. You watched your friends danced across the crowded dance floor, lost in their own world.

You saw Kai from your friends group, approaching you, came straight at the direction where you were seated. You quickly reverted your eyes to somewhere, acted like you hadn’t even noticed him just now, like any other introvert, focusing on your drink in your hand.

“Hey, ____! Long time no see.” Yeah, it would be longer if he weren’t just interrupted your peaceful time there.

He was grinning ear to ear like he just found some treasure. You adjusted yourself to looked at him, “Yeah, Hey! How are you?”

“Oh fine, just living the busy life of a busy man. You say, what you’re been up to these days?” oh, nothing special, just waiting to be embraced by death and, oh! Also trying to have a peaceful time which now has been disrupted. You hoped you’d be able to say that on his face but… oh, well… manners!

“Nothing special –,” He pulled a stool beside you and hopped on it, “You say?”

You watched him settling beside you comfortably. You internally rolled your eyes when you realized he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He started talking about his life which you didn’t mind any attention to, you were busy finding loopholes to escaped the man in front of you. You eyes darted frantically everywhere around the club to found any of your friends, anyone, but the crowd made it harder to spot any of them.

He offered you a tequila which you politely refused. Then, he continued insisting on buying you a drink, his words laced with determination, the alcohol in his system clearly kicked out at that moment. The background buzz of the bar heightened as he tried to charm you into accepting, created a moment of tension which wasn’t a good kind.

Despite your clear signal of disinterest, he remained persistent. It ultimately left you annoyed than ever. The last time, your refusal was harsh, words came out of your mouth was rude but the situation particularly made it harder for you to be calm, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a drink? It would be great if leave me alone.”

He took that to his heart, it seemed, because the look he gave you was similar to Chihuahua dogs when angry. You never got what this boy’s problem was, even any other boy who tried to pursued you before.

Why boys don’t know when to stop and have no shame? Universal question. The whole world wanted to know the answer, included yourself.

“Why the attitude? I’m just trying to be friendly! Damn, seems like you don’t deserve that–,” He scoffed, “you’ve become more hot, not gonna lie; but, that hard-to-get bitchy attitude is still there.”

The audacity he had!

You raised an eyebrow but maintained your composure. “Friendly doesn’t usually come with comments like that. It’s about mutual respect,” You retorted.

He leaned against the counter, undeterred. “Come on, no need to be so serious. I’m just being honest here. You were always good looking and now, you looks irresistible, but the attitude…”

You sighed, contemplated on if you walked out of there or slap him across his face, “Honesty is appreciated when it’s respectful. Your comments are crossing the line.”

Unfazed, he chuckled, “I just call it like I see it. No harm meant.”

“Well, it’s causing harm. I value my personal space and expect to be treated with respect,” You stated firmly.

He scoffed again, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a bit. Not every compliment is an attack.”

As his audacity reached new heights with an attempt to grab your arm, frustration surged within you. You were on the verge of snapping back, but just in the nick of time, a familiar voice called your name, halting your impending outburst.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

You turned your face to your left and saw Jungkook standing there, a n knowing smile on his face which he usually made when he got annoyed or angry.

Relieved and equally surprised to hear his familiar voice, you redirected your attention, grateful for the interruption regardless.

You stared at him with wide eyes, still thinking that if he was real or not. He glanced at the guy who had attempted to grab your arm, his smile faded into a more serious expression. “Is everything okay here?" Jungkook asked, his tone carried a subtle warning.

The guy got tensed, visibly uncomfortable under Jungkook’s scrutiny, stammered, “Just a misunderstanding, man.”

Jungkook’s demeanor remained stern as he replied, “Best not to misunderstand personal boundaries. She’s not interested.”

His hand was on your shoulder in a comforting manner. With that, Jungkook subtly positioned himself between you and the guy, creating a clear physical barrier. The unwelcome intruder, perhaps sensed the shift in dynamics, made a hasty exit. His protective side kicked out.…

…Like any other big brother might had.

Being the protective big brother he was, Jungkook had a younger sister, so dealing with guys hitting on her became a familiar scenario for him. He had accumulated experience in handling such situations.

Yeah, he still saw you like his little sister.

“Jungkook…” Words came out breathy form your mouth like you still hadn’t believe him standing there. The feeling you had buried in a corner of your heart years ago resurfaced once again, the bittersweet warmth you used to feel whenever you saw him bloomed inside of your heart.

Jungkook’s gaze held a mix of familiarity and affection, and you found myself lost in the moment, the years melting away.

“Hey –,” He said softly as he stand in front of you, “Are you okay?”

When he smiled at you, you realized his smile was still the same, radiated warmth and playfulness. That boyish innocence was still there but with a mix of mature allure that time. That doe-like, expressive eyes that held a certain depth, his gaze was both inviting and enigmatic, in which you found yourself drowned.

There were significant changes in his appearance though, like the tattoos on his arm and those piercings on his eyebrows, ears and even his lips. You stared at him absentmindedly before he spoke, “Moon? I asked if you’re okay?” That name again!

“Yeah, right… I’m okay. Thank you, Jungkook.”

He smiled at your response as he said, “I didn’t knew you were in the town.”

“Yeah, no one does actually. I wanted to surprise Jia, but she is out of the country so…’

“Right, she is.” Then silence settled between you two. Before it could got more awkward, Jungkook said, “So…how is life going?” as he took the seat on which Kai was settled before.

How were you gonna answer that? Your life… you felt like it was never yours. You moved out of the country because of your father, you got a college degree so you could help your family financially, then you diagnosed with a disease which eventually going to kill you so you didn’t had much time left.

But, in all of these, what you did for yourselves? When was the time you actually lived your life?

You didn’t had an answer to that tbh.

“Nothing special. My dad got retired so we thought about coming back to our country.” You answered, swirling the glass of virgin mojito in your hand. “and, what about you?”

“Me?” He asked, his doe eyes staring wide at you, chucking a little, he replied, “Came back to my home after realizing, I’m not gonna get a job there any time soon, not bad though–,” He glanced over your shoulder as you saw something flickered in his eyes, “ –Then thought about starting my own business, now I got my own tattoo shop.”

You saw him frequently glancing over your shoulder, as if someone was behind you whome was trying to see.

“Oh! That’s awesome!”

He didn’t replied and kept staring at a particular direction behind you. When you attempted to look behind, he stopped you by grabbing your arm. “Yeah, it is.”

He let out a laugh which clearly indicated his nervousness. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is someone behind me?”

“Yeah… it’s just my ex.”

He said that casually as if he wasn’t just trying to desperately snatch a glance at her. You didn’t understand, his ex?

You remember his girlfriend. What was her name again?

Nina? Nanny? Ah, no. Yes!

Nancy. She was his girlfriend whom he invited to the thanksgiving party. As far as you knew, they were still dating according to Jia even though she confessed that to you a long time ago.

“Umm– Jungkook? I need more context to understand what you’re talking about. So, fill me in what I’m missing out?” You squinted at him dramatically and he laughed a little at your ministration.

That same smile which was enough to make your heart flutter and skip a beat.

“It’s nothing, just that…” He paused midway and glanced over your head again before continuing, “We broke things up a few months ago. Decided to go separate ways because we didn’t work out eventually?”

There was a question mark at the end, you wondered why was that for. Was he not know why they broke up? That’s sounds silly. Maybe, he was confused after they broke things up and thought that he made a mistake there? He might still wanted to be with her?

Before your train of thought escalate even further, He tapped you on your shoulder and brought you back to the reality, “Earth to ___,” You saw him smiling at you, “What are you thinking?”

You were wearing off shoulders, so, the naked touch of his fingers upon your skin kindled a transient flame, imprinting an indelible mark of his presence that will linger unwelcomed for the next few days.

“N-nothing, what were you saying again?” shaking the dizziness from witnessing the stars in his eyes, you asked. It’s normal for a human being like you, feeling dizzy after touched by someone made of stars. Gotta be grounded, you aren’t allowed to touch the stars, you reminded yourself.

“I asked, if you want to dance with me. Would you?” He asked as he extended his hand for you. You knew, you shouldn’t touch the stars but the shining flow of it made you blinded to the upcoming consequences of your actions.

You should knew well, why he was asking for a dance. His ex was still behind you so the only reason would be to – made her jealous, still you reciprocated.

You warned him about your lack of knowledge in dancing, nonetheless, he pulled you to the dance floor.

Placed your hands on his shoulder and his on your waist, he instructed you to move. As soon as, you two stepped on the dance floor, the song changed to a melodic one from a upbeat song.

Apocalypse by cigarettes after sex started playing in the background and you found yourself staring at the men in front of you for a second before you broke the eye contact.

Even thought you turned you face to the other side you could feel his eyes on you, making your mind go blank.

He pulled you closer, bodies Pressed together as both of you started to move in sync with the music. His breath hit the side of your face, making your breath hitched after knowing the close proximity between you two.

“____,” He called, your name sounded pretty from his lips, “Look at me.”

It sounded like a demand but his tone suggested other wise. Tender and delicate, as his soft lips brushed against your hairline, made you gulped the lump forming in your throat.

You did look him in the eyes. His gaze, held galaxies within, each flicker echoing the poetry of an undiscovered universe, in which you found yourself lost.

“You’re doing good. Just don’t think too much and let your body move according to the rhythm –,” He said, his gaze focused on your face, closer than before. The ambient lighting casted a soft glow, accentuating his delicate features, his words gave you courage, an unfamiliar sense of comfort and his face made you thought that you had someone you could rely on.

In that shared gaze, time momentarily freezes and you found yourself falling for him, again.

“Aish…I sounded like some know-it-all, I think? don’t mind it, please.” There was nervousness in his voice, fleeting glances searched for reassurance to make sure you didn’t found that offensive.

You didn’t help but realized how thoughtful and considerate a person could be that he was worrying about something so small. It wasn’t even sounded offensive to you, it was just a suggestion, guidance to someone who doesn’t know the ‘D’ of dancing.

Like a delicate melody played on uncertain notes—a sincere expression that made his words all the more genuine and endearing and you found that oddly charming.

You couldn’t help but smiled at him, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind at all, but… I might get offended if you don’t tell me the truth right now.” You teased, slightly grinding at him.

He pinched his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are you. . . Somehow trying to make your ex jealous? Because if you are, I think it’s working.”

His eyes widened a bit, clearly wasn’t expecting something like that. He, again, glanced over to the girl who was still standing at the same spot for ten minutes, observing every move you two made.

“I– No–, I mean not exactly,” He looked at you with a hint of guilt in his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile, “Well, not gonna lie. I did tried to make her kinda jealous – but it wasn’t the entire reason why I asked you for a dance.” You found a hint of panic in his eyes, again looking like he didn’t wanted to offend by any means, which you found enduring. Why does he cared so much? You thought.

You couldn’t help but saw this little things in people, especially the people you held close to your heart.

“Then, why did you asked?”

“Because, I wanted to.” He said casually, as if he didn’t just made you skipped your heart beat a little faster. You shifted your gaze to the other side, feeling weird emotions about the person you wouldn’t felt. Nonetheless, you chuckled a little bit.

“You would have told me earlier, then I might have put more effort.”

“So, you aren’t putting effort yet?” He giggled, eyes gleamed under the light.

“No – I didn’t mean that, but, now we have a mission in our hands, so we better win it!”

He made a look of knowing, realized what you were implying. He let out a chuckle, shook his head at you adorably and gripped your hand a bit firmly, pulling you a little bit closer as if there were any gap in between.

Your chest flashed against his, the burning heat of your cheeks might be visible by then, you felt his thumb rubbing slowly at your waist where he was holding you. That small gesture was supposed to be comforting but it only made your cheeks grew a shade brighter.

You thanked the dimly lights of the club.

The evening went by just the two of you holding each other close as you swung your bodies to the unfamiliar melodies. This time, there was no barrier in between you two, like, ‘he see me as his sister’ or ‘he has a girlfriend.’

…

Sometimes, It was hard for you to understand Jia.

That one time when she asked if she could borrow your white gown on her birthday. Of course you gave that to her. It was her birthday party in the evening, so you didn’t grasp the fact why she wanted to wore something …old, when she had a new dress waiting for her in her wardrobe.

But, then switched her dress to that very new black dress in the middle of that party. When you asked her, she refused to gave you an explanation, which baffled you and left you confused.

Even though you didn’t liked her odd behavior that night, you let that slipped.

“Taehyung is looking at your direction –,” one of the girls from your class whispered in your ears as she giggled like a typical teen girl next to you.

All of your friends were sitting at the cafeteria, munching on your food. It was a typical boring day at school until your eyes landed on Jungkook. He was in the senior year and also the captain of school soccer team.

When you were busy drooling over him, your friends started making their own theories.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him staring at ___ quite often.” Other girl from your same table passed a comment.

Kim Taehyung was in the soccer team as well but a year older than Jungkook, but they were like brothers, the ‘IT’ best friend duo. It was quite usual for you to saw Taehyung whenever Jungkook was around. He was with him almost all the time.

But, you never noticed him staring at you. You thought they were making silly scenarios in their little head in hope of some Juicy gossip until you noticed, Kim Taehyung staring at your direction.

“Stop, guys! He is probably looking at somewhere else or looking for someone? Who knows!” You shrugged them off, not wanted to participate in their nonsense.

The men, they were talking about was the ‘sweetheart’ of your high school, every other girl was smitten by him, so it was a bit difficult for you to accept that he might had a crush on you.

“___, you are dangerously oblivious.” Then they laughed as if they just discovered the funniest joke of the century, their laughter echoed through out the cafeteria except from you and Jia.

It was easy to assume someone’s weight just by looking at the structure of their body until you had to carry them.

“Fuck! He is heavy dude!” Jia cursed under her breath, unable to hide the suffering of carrying Jimin all the way up to the 5th floor to Jungkook’s apartment.

“He doesn’t seem like–,” You were about to trip and fall, but adjusted yourself quickly. “yeah, he is heavy.”

The knock on his door wasn’t too loud as you made sure not to woke any neighbors up 2 in the morning.

You heard a groan along with some footsteps before the door swung open in front of you and you wished that you wouldn’t saw what you’d saw.

There was Jungkook, naked and standing in his full glory. Thank God, he had a sweat pant on.

You immediately looked down out of respect and…well, shyness? Because the way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing. You were flustered and you hoped, no one noticed.

Jungkook made a surprised gasped and scrunched his brows out of confusion, “What are you guys doing here at this hour? I- wait, is that jimin?”

“Yes!! Now help us, dummy.” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s arm but not before shooting a glare at his sister’s direction, gave her a look of ‘you better shut the fuck up.’

He took jimin from you two and carried him like his weight was nothing, held him like a feather. Before the three of you could reach out to the sofa, you saw Taehyung came out of another room.

“What’s going on in the middle of the night?” His deep voice was an octave lower, clearly he was in his dreamland. With a scowl, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his very drunk friend, “Wait – Is that jimi– Is he dead?” He dramatically gasped.

“No. But, tell me, are you two…gay?” She asked them quietly, made it more dramatic by her expressions. Her mischievous eyes shifted to Taehyung from Jungkook, then again on Jungkook.

Taehyung gave a glare at her direction, no words left from his mouth. The poor guy just woke up at the middle of the night and accused of fucking Jungkook. You held your laughter back, didn’t wanted to make it more chaotic than it already was.

“No– I mean you look like you just had a rough night and–,”

“Jia, will you shut up?” Jungkook’s voice was stern, as if he was holding himself back. His sister knew how to get on his nerves, for sure.

Ignoring the fact that she was about to bring scolded by her elder brother, she took the responsibility and filled him up with the information.

“We were at this bar and we saw Jimin there…lying on a couch. The owner was searching for his friends but, since they weren’t there, we took him here.” She chirped, feigning innocence as if she didn’t just called her brother gay.

Jia decided to met you at this famous bar, again you went along with the idea even though you knew the fact that, you won’t be able to drink anything.

At least you liked the ambience of the bar, until you found a very drunk blonde haired guy laying on a couch, almost knocked out. The owner was literally about to kick him out if it weren’t for you and Jia arrived at the right time.

“He was supposed to join us.” Taehyung shook his head in disappointment, letting out a huff, he walked over to Jimin who was finally knocked out on Jungkook’s couch. Following Taehyung’s lead, you sit beside Jimin, scrutinizing his face for any discomfort he might had.

Your gaze briefly flickered towards Jungkook, caught him staring at you, before he quickly averted his eyes towards Taehyung. You knew, it wasn’t anything you might had thought of, but the way your stomach flipped over wasn’t something normal.

“What you guys were even doing?” Jia asked exaggeratedly, squinted her eyes at both men in front of her suspiciously.

Yes, Jungkook and Taehyung was like brothers since they were in high school, probably saw shits of each other which might had never been seen by anyone, their bromance was top-notch but that doesn’t allow people to question about their sexuality. You knew, Jia was just joking and probably pulling her brother’s leg off and besides, Jungkook has a girlfriend. Or so, had.

They might broke up, but the possibility of him having feelings for her was strong, because of the dance you two had that night at the club. No person who doesn’t had any feelings for their ex would did such thing to just made them jealous. He doesn’t said that, he doesn’t had to, it was all clear in his eyes or so you noticed.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I write stories in horror genre. I've been wanting to incorporate more disabled characters in these, because I feel like they're really underrepresented in the genre except for either demonizing roles of antagonists, or a random victim who dies/is exploited for cheap shock because of their disability. One of the stories I'm working on has intellectually disabled protagonist/narrator. Are there any things you'd recommend to avoid in writing a character with ID in context of horror genre specifically?

Hey!

I have a few problems with ID characters in horror media. Two of the three biggest ones you've actually already covered in your ask, so I'll just add quick explanations for people not familiar with them.

First is the "big intellectually disabled man murders everyone", not even because he's evil or is seeking revenge or whatever, but because he "doesn't understand" that murder bad. It's absurdly insulting and writers don't seem to understand that a lot of real life cases where an ID man "committed" a brutal crime are a result of police manipulation and tricking them into "confessing", but that's a very long and frustrating topic.

Second one is the victim thing. Hardly exclusive to any minority, but with ID characters it often seems like they're the first of many victims and their death is usually ignored because who cares (granted, pretty realistic) until more people start dying and all that. Dogs tend to get more sympathy (also realistic).

Third thing that I hate is the "everything is normal... until the character is revealed to have mental [R word]! (scary music)". Generally in the sense that the situation seems completely fine, the protagonist has no actual traits of ID, but then at some point they find out they have ID (usually severe or profound, which is ridiculous in this context) and suddenly the actions of those around them are pretty clearly fucked up (the character is actually held hostage, kidnapped, about to be murdered, you get it). It uses intellectual disability as a shock factor and as some worst-case scenario nightmare fuel for abled people, even though the situation makes no sense (no, a profoundly ID person isn't going to be reading their medical records and find out this way) and wouldn't happen. It's insulting nonsense.

Another thing that is insensitive in my opinion is the institution/SPED setting. Definitely not because nothing evil happens in there (quite the opposite) but because the way it's usually treated is completely devoid of empathy and the actual victims are portrayed as animals almost (or not so almost). I'd just stray away from the extreme real-life abuse scenarios (abusive caregivers, borderline slavery "work"places, purposeful medical malpractice) that do actually happen if you don't have a lot of experience or aren't working with someone who does.

Last thing, kinda connected to the third, is to not make any bizarre connections between the disability and the horror. ID can make someone trust others more which could lead to a situation that's potentially Scary, but it doesn't have much to do with demons or the parents doing something fucked up before the person was born.

There are of course other things that are kinda tired, but not completely made-up. ID people are victims of crime way more often, that's a statistic that's been true since the dawn of time. But it doesn't mean that they won't fight back because they're disabled. I'd love to see a character who actually wins against the antagonist at some point (even if just for a moment, considering it's horror) - whether they're physically stronger, or know the place better so they get away, or manage to keep calm because they haven't realized they're in a dangerous situation, it would be awesome to see.

Some additional notes that might or might not apply depending on what kind of horror it is;

A lot of people with ID aren't going to be reacting to the regular horror stuff the same way as your average horror character might. They might not think much when they hear a Suspicious Sound and not go investigate it, or be too scared because it's an Unfamiliar Situation. What would be more realistic in a scenario like this is the ID character actually reaching out for help (depends on the settings what that would be); most of us get it drilled into our brain to listen to authority, so they would probably be calling the cops rather than going into the Scary Basement, even if just in the fear of not doing the thing you're supposed to.

In more of an eldritch horror setting where there is an incomprehensible Thing happening, a character with a significant intellectual disability literally has an advantage over abled people. It's just one of many incomprehensible things. Many of us are simply used to ignoring things that don't make sense since the majority of people don't have the patience to explain things in a way that's actually helpful.

It'd be also cool for the ID character to actually have a goal, objective, or whatever else to drive them forward and have some development. Whether that would be the desire to find out who murdered their ex-husband, or why the sink has blood instead of water, or just to survive the voyage, basically anything other than just standing there only experiencing things when some abled savior shows up and tells them how to feel and what to do (both bad for an ID character but also just a poorly written protagonist of any kind).

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[writing-in-sin]

KAISHIN OPINION: COUSINS REVEAL?

Since I haven't watch the movie yet, I can neither confirm nor deny the whole cousins spoiler thing. Whether or not its true, 20+ years is a long ass time and I've ignored canon before so this won't stop me.

If they truly are cousins in the movie and it ends up being canon in the manga too? Then fuck it. It won't be my canon. Especially when Aoyama is also the one planning to make Toichi alive after literally putting Kaito through horrific trauma of witnessing his father's murder and mourning him

No. Just NO

I respect that its his manga and his characters, and I as a fan, I am only borrowing his creations. But even so, as a fan, I have the right to chose what I wish to do with whatever happens in canon in my FANWORKS

Either I acknowledge that they're cousins and continue shipping them (I'm asian so the whole cousins being lovers thing isnt anything new in my culture nor is it a crime in my country...or a number of asian or southeast asian countries if I'm not mistaken. Granted, it doesn't usually happen simply because people tend to fall for friends or colleagues but cousins marrying dont raise any eyebrows here)

Or I ignore canon entirely and they stay unrelated in any way

However, if those who followed me for my kaishin content then dont worry, I'll still post anything of kaishin that comes to mind

Most likely, I'll ignore them being cousins if it ends up canon. Because honestly? There's a lot of things in canon I dont agree with so ignoring them as cousins won't be the first thing I've ignored or changed in canon. In that same vein, I'll ignore Toichi being alive too because while something like that is usually something to rejoice in any other situation or story, the whole thing is unnecessarily cruel and borderline an inhumane thing to do towards your own child. In my opinion, Toichi should not be written in such a way so for my fanworks, he will not be

To those who want him alive, thats okay. Go ahead but I will not acknowledge that canon

Also, for those who are uncomfortable at the possible canon cousins reveal then thats more than okay. You are free to unfollow or block me or any kaishin posts

So....yeah, I'll ship kaishin whatever the outcome is because in the end, the characters and manga are FICTIONAL so I can change, acknowledge or ignore canon as I wish

_____________

Anyways, thanks for reading this far. Also, here! This is my twitter side-account for all things DCMK & KaiShin moonlit_death because I'm a petty couch potato and will NEVER stop shipping KaiShin dammit!

[armybratz123]

The Netflix Devil May Cry show: Why I Think it's Utter Trash

Okay, this is usually not my thing. My sister, Froggy, is the one who usually goes on rants about stuff. Usually, her gothic stories and Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss stuff. But I need to get this out somewhere. My sisters don't know the story as well/don't want to/are tired of hearing it. My brother hasn't seen the show (and no way in hell am I letting him), so he only barely understands when I manage to explain it to him.

So now I'm finally using my account for something outside of my quick ideas that I need to get out and decide are good enough to post.

First off, I want to start on the subject that has the most controversy and mixed reactions among the audience of the Devil May Cry Netflix show. The Makaian refugees, I was wierded out by the concept at first, honestly.

The reason why I didn't care for the Makaian refugees in the Netflix show is that what made Devil May Cry so impactful is that Demons are born bad. With these instincts to hurt and kill and make others miserable. It's what makes stories like Sparda, Trish, and Bradley (a Demon who fell in love with a human in the 2007 anime) so impactful.

Because despite their instincts, their heritage, and how they were raised, they chose to be something different. Something good. It felt out of place, but I could deal with it...... until they started using the refugees to pretty much spit on Sparda's name. The White Rabbit's whole motivation is that humans are ruthless creatures, in his eyes they are the true Demons, and Sparda is an idiot and the real Bad Guy because he chose one helpless, but cruel/unworthy race, over the other helpless race that are suffering, dying, and of his own kind. Another thing that took away the impact of Sparda's deeds.

I didn't entirely care for the Makaian refugees at the start, because I saw them as what I thought them to be, at the time, a tool. Mary (I'm not calling her Lady, that woman in the show is not Lady. She's no Walking Arsenal, she's a fake) was written to hate Demons to the extreme x10, they needed something to the extreme to knock her down a few pegs. Thus, the Makaian refugees.... And then I watch what basically was a reenactment of the Holocaust at the end of the episode. When I was watching the show, there was one part that really stuck with me. It was when the Darkcom soldiers were loading up the refugees under Mary's orders onto the trucks, you know, the ones meant to hold demons with flamethrowers on the inside? I was getting nervous. All I could think of was the stupid flamethrowers, but I had to remind myself that this is supposed to represent change, the humans, overall, are the good guys here. Seeing and helping the refugees will help them see the bigger picture- oH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?

The Vice-President ordered them to kill them all, and they fucking lined the ones left in the building up, and my mind kept blanking out, the images from the stories I read, the stories I learned growing up, of how Jews would be lined up in the streets, in broad daylight even, and executed for the crime of existing. There were tears in my eyes because I saw what was coming next. My gut was screaming about it since I saw the refugees being loaded up in those damned trucks, and I was reminded of the showers in Concentration camps, only this time, instead of gas, it was fire. Which could be argued to be a worse, more painful death. I was crying in the end, not sobbing though, my mouth was too busy hanging beneath my shoulders in horror to be sobbing while I cried.

I wasn't the show's biggest fan or anything, but before that point, I thought the show was okay. I could deal with it, it's not canon, no skin off my back. It could be a what-if Dante never knew his Father and who he is, and Lady had already killed hers since the beginning, so she was no longer after him for revenge. But they did that.

Whether or not the Makaian refugees wrecked the Devil May Cry universe and the impact it was meant to be, we still had reason to cheer for humans, for our people, for justice to come out on top. The whole point of Devil May Cry is to push the boundaries of justice, of what's considered right and wrong, because Demons don't consider those boundaries, so sometimes, tough decisions are made. The point of Devil May Cry's lesson was to reveal the shades of grey that make up the real world and that we alone are in charge of making up our identity. Instead, the Netflix show decided to dig their heels in, shovel themselves a deeper grave, and show us that there is a Black and White, but both are to the extreme that you can't even tell what was right and wrong anymore, with just of sliver of Grey in the middle and the grey is actually just Dante.

And right after that episode, we saw the White Rabbit's and Mary's backstories. It was cool how they did it with the music, little to no sound, music was great too. And then they hit me with the ending again and I just wanted to groan.

I was already emotionally tired and done with the show because the extermination of the Makaian refugees literally just happened at the end of the last episode.

By the end of the show, I just settled for cheering for Dante and hoping he beat the White Rabbit so the divide Sparda made wouldn't be destroyed. He did, and then he mentions him and Mary partnering up and fighting Demons together, protecting humanity. I though I saw Lady, that we were going to get out duo, they will build the Devil May Cry shop together, okay. Alot of sucky bits, but I can be happy with this ending- Mary just betrayed Dante and drugged him to unconsciousness.

Vice President stole the White Rabbit's portal device and is now using it to invade Makai because his Ego is the size of a continent.

And now Dante has been put on ice, like he's a weapon being put away until ready for when is in need to be used again.

You can't- You can't just give me the one thing? Just the one? Seriously? Are you for real? I was ready, I was ready and willing to give you a chance. I am a hardcore Devil May Cry fan who looked into the lore outside of the games and was willing to give you a chance. In fact, I gave you multiple! And in return... You Give Me....... THIS FLAMING PIECE OF HOT GARBAGE!!!

For over an hour. I was pissed for over an hour and felt like I just wasted four hours. Of. My. Life. I wasted four hours of my life right there, because, of course, I binged it. They nerfed Dante, Mary killed more high-end demons than he did, made Lady a backstabbing bitch with a potty mouth worse than Nero's, twisted just about everything that made Devil May Cry what it was, and just pumped up everything to the extreme.

Down in the comments, tell me, did anyone else just give up and start cheering for the demons at the end after Dante was put away? Because to be honest, when Vergil showed up, I wasn't happy he showed up because I like Vergil, no, I was in relief because I was FREAKING CHEERING FOR THE DEMONS AT THE END OF IT!!! I should NOT be cheering for the demons! I was even imagining how Vergil would rescue Dante due to this ending. Just-! JUST-! uuuUUUURRRGGGHHH!!!!!

.

.

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So yeah. Not a fan.

And yes, being a Devil May Cry fan did make me hate the show. I am aware of my own bias, but I also know myself. I don't like the writing of this show, even if I weren't a Devil May Cry fan, I wouldn't like this show. I wouldn't feel hot burning rage and as if I wasted four precious hours of my life, but I still would dislike the show. I don't know if I would still call it trash if I weren't a fan.

But I am a fan.

So, it's Trash.

[ave-on-main]

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you! I also hope that you're doing well! I want to start off by saying that I adore your fics, particularly the ones that you write about Brudick. They're really great, and I often reread them on occasion. The many different ideas you have for them, along with your grasp of their characters, are so fun to read and feel so accurate honestly! I love seeing your comments as well even if its on your own fics or others with your analyses about them, and it genuinely brings me joy to see. Thank you for writing stories about them! 🖤💙

I also have a question that kind of popped into my head in regards to them that made me wonder if this is a thing that mostly or only Dick has the privilege of. It's often been pointed out how Dick usually can be physically affectionate with Bruce in comparison to anyone else, like he can touch him freely without Bruce getting upset for the most part or being on guard, and I was wondering if that's the case within canon. I feel like it is, but I'm not entirely sure, though I do know for sure that Dick is someone extremely special to Bruce regardless of whether it's platonic or romantic.

Hi! I hope you're doing ok too! Thank you so much for the ask and the kind words. I always appreciate people commenting on my writing. 💕 And these two are undoubtedly very dear to me!

How physically affectionate Dick and Bruce are in canon changes a lot, tbh, which means people's opinions on it really depend on what panels someone has been exposed to. Often there can be a wall between Bruce and Dick, but they grow most affectionate when they are grieving (and that doesn't need to be a person). Bruce has given out hugs to other Bats, but canon does give the impression that Dick can initiate physical contact more easily and often than others. I think specifically for ship purposes, tearing this wall down further is a lot of fun.

How I see their physical affections comes down to their fighting style. They are very much in tune with each other, and Dick would be used to a kind of physical connection given he is a trapeze artist.

Fighting for them means contact. Sometimes painful, othertimes not.

We have a lot more hands-on a shoulder or other body part panels than hugs. Maybe because the panel from Tec #38 is so iconic, but more likely because they are guys. There are a few instances of Bruce hugging others, but Dick remains a source of comfort for him too, which is different from the role others play in Bruce's life.

The hand on heart is a newer thing, but I'm not complaining about it.

A lot of it is interpretation, of course, but I think it says something that when Dick played the role of the Joker in Batman 2011 #1, the way he was exposed to be Dick to the readers (before the true reveal) was by him touching Bruce a ton, lol.

And, of course, Dick was carried to safety a lot when he was younger. Sometimes he even did the carrying himself.

Dick can, very easily, be in Bruce's bubble because he isn't an intruder. They share 4 to 6 years of living together depending on canon and crime fight together for even longer on top of their shared trauma. That doesn't automatically translate to physical contact = good, but it helps.

[tryingtimi]

Books of 2024 (in no particular order)

Hi, hello dears! Since I’m out here trying to bring back things, I’ll give a shot to this one too from last year. The “rules” were to list 9 books you’ve read and loved this year, and boy I’ve got recs to gush about. (somehow I could read 40+ books which is just insane)

No pressure tagging: @bloodlessheiratnight, @the-void-writes, @barbex, @indigowriting, @aalinaaaaaa, @approximately20blorbos, @wildswrites, @dyrewrites, @odysseywritings, @jadefyre, @goldfinchwrites, @sodaliteskull, @astarlightmonbebe, @tc-doherty, @forthesanityofstorytellers and anyone who’d like to join!

So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole. ya fantasy, Jamaican-inspired, dragon riders, M/F and F/F focus

God I wanted to yap about this one for so long. This book literally got me back to reading, so naturally it became an instant fav and a life-changing book. And, honestly, gave me hope for some YA since I’m not the audience for those usually. The setting is as breathtaking as fresh within the genre, and the story is a very exciting one with all the dragon riding, the academy and the gods that would loan their power. Not to mention the characters which I surprisingly grown to love very much. (And man the romance part made me kick my feet and squel in excitement at some point). So yeah, give it a try please all. Like, now.

Why We Swim by Bonnie Tsui. non-fic, great audiobook, title says all

The read that rekindled my love for swimming and being in the water. A very interesting little book about incredible lives that were saved by or moved by swimming and the waters, while it also shows light on some beneficial aspects that not everyone might know. It’s a half memoir/biography too, but that part wasn’t as impactful I’d say. However the rest did make a strong impression on me so I’d recommend this to everyone who wants to know whats the swimming and water crazed people’s deal.

Jade City by Fonda Lee epic&urban fantasy, east-asian martial art movies and the godfather vibes, grimdark

And here we come with the big guns. I didn’t know this story is gonna be the second all time fav fantasy series on my list, nor that Fonda’s gonna become the tradpub female writer idol for me, but life’s just that unpredictable. Seriously, this book has me by the throat and I don’t want the grip to soften. All that you can imagine from the bleak, smoke filled gangster life to the flying-jumping double kicks of Michelle Yeoh, it’s in it. The story also very heavily leans onto the political intrigue, and lore aspect so keep that in mind. Oh and the best ever erotica (for my taste personally) is sprinkled around there casually too, so there’s that.

Penance by Eliza Clark litfic, fake-true crime, thriller

I was never a true crime girlie, but I was a litfic one. This book is kind of a satire about how true crime impacts people, especially teenage girls, and what's up with the obsession over it. It also explores where reality and fiction blurrs, and how that can impact lives. A brutal read, in my opinion, and I ate it up in two days smh. Also, I'm going to be real honest with y'all here; I was very confused at the beginning because I never read a fake investigated interview/essay before, so I completely believed it to be true (even tho I found it in the fiction genre). So yes, Eliza Clark is brilliant in that sense, will definitely check out her other books, and will never forget the true tragedy she based the crime in the book. Oh and when she brought up tumblr and tumblrinas in the book... ugh.

Cultish by Amanda Montell. non-fic, great audiobook, title says it all

2024 was the year of litfic and non-fic on my end, or at least I tried and am still trying to get back to them. This one was a very interesting book about cults and how cult leaders use language as a tool to create their communities. Or, well, not just them but everyone. I love learning about how and why we use language as we do, and I also love learning about anything cult related even tho they make my skin crawl. This book luckily did justice on both ends.

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. litfic, fake-rockumentary, fleetwood mac/stevie nicks-inspired

Continuing my march on the "reading the books my favourite series and movies are based upon" journey. Daisy Jones is something that was great in book, but excellent on tv. The whole fiasco and the documentary part works better on screen I think, especially after they literally wrote, produced, sang and perfomed songs. Like what the hell. Still listening to the songs cuz some of them are peak 70s. However, the book and the series has the same vibe, so that's why I could enjoy both. (not to mention it inspired me too) What I would really highlight tho, it’s Simon’s story in the series because my god I love her so much. Sometimes even wish it would have been about her than Daisy, lol.

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang. (ya) historical fantasy, very heavy war stuff, chinese mythology

It's not ya, okay? There are elements that match that, but overall, it's just not. What the book (and the whole series) actually is tho, is a raw portrayal and an essay about the horrors of the Second Sino-Japanese War, and what went down there, coated with a touch fantastical world and some magical/mythical elements. Loved the first book to pieces. This one might be the closest to ya, with all the academy time, the hint of enemies to whatevers, but only up until the half of the book. After that it blurrs and morphs. Still, the whole series is the most educational fantasy I've ever read, and will always keep the first book as a favourite. It's something everyone should read at least once, I think. But never ask me about the last installment.

The Red Palace by June Hur. ya historical fantasy, mystery, romance

Imagine a book that literally reads like a korean period drama. I mean, literally. Funny enough, I needed a second try to get to this book, but after that, oh man it checked all the boxes. It's easy to read, a fun little murder mystery in the palace, and a great experience if you're a kdrama junkie like me. I still think about this book from time to time, and will read all the other works from the author for sure. (fun fact: the royal family stuff are usually historically accurate because that's June Hur's whole sthick, which i love that for her)

We Will Devour The Night by Camilla Andrew. gaslamp fantasy, court intrigue, light vs dark, some impeccable erotica

We all know and love Cammie. And trust to bring an amazing next installement to the The Essence of the Equinox. I loved the book to pieces, because it contained everything I'd crave in a continuation. An interesting and gorgeous expanded world, escalating political intrigue and a ton of great character interactions. While, of course we still got to spend time with our best girl Laila, and best dick Darius.

[txtmetonight]

Revelation ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ When a date gone wrong...goes right!

pairing *. * Yang Jeongin x Fem! Reader (ft. Hwang Hyunjin)

genre⋆ ★ Fluff

warnings *. Mentions of blood and violence, crude language

call duration⋆ ★ 1.9k

a/n*. * I feel bad for not working on my other works but then again I realize I'm doing this for free out of my own enjoyment so... I hope you enjoy it!! Also, look out for the little surprise at the end ><

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

Dating apps suck, everyone knows that.

Jeongin knows that too, but you find it ironic that you both found each other on a matchmaking platform but as best friends. You two had too much in common to continue anything further than friendship.

But as of right now as you stare out of the window of your car (parked in a five-star restaurant for your date) you think of it as a mistake. You know it’s a mistake.

Yet you still proceed with hiding your feelings and push past the negative overtone with dating apps (due to the whimsical horror stories that each app gains) to find your next person.

The new one that would bring feelings of elation. And usually, when you find a decent human being, they do give you sweet joy! But only for a short while until you’re back on the hunt again.

“I can’t believe you found another person that quick,” Jeongin sighs. He sits in the driver’s seat and fiddles with the radio until he finds something that he likes.

You give him a quick queasy grin and settle into your seat. Your date said that he was going to be there at six. The clock currently reads five fifty-seven.

“Well…I like to keep my options open.” He rolls his eyes at your words and places something in your pocket. When you pull it out, you notice that it is your favorite candy, the one that you keep with you on every date to help calm you down. He must've noticed that you were running out.

"I love you what the fuck"

“Yeah yeah, I know, I love you too." You give him a crinkled smile. "But be careful because one of those ‘options’ could actually an axe murderer and the next thing I know is that you’re found in a ditch. Dead. And you’re suddenly on a true crime podcast.”

You snort at his words, heart in your throat when he gives you a cheesy smile and unlocks the door so you can get out. You wish to stay, though.

“You’re being dramatic, Jeongin. Plus, this Hyunjin guy seems nice. What guy with a dog named Kkami sounds like he would kill someone?”

“You would never know.” He shrugs his shoulders and suddenly leans a little forward to wipe away at the corner of your lips and you feel your cheeks tremendously heat up.

You’re lucky that it’s getting dark to see the way that your eyes dart to his lips. When he pulls back, you try not to scamper over to his warmth; missing the touch it left on you.

“But anyways, you know the drill. Call me if he gets weird or if you’re done. I have to go pick something up, so I’ll be in the place,” Jeongin drawls as you get out of the car. He slowly rolls down the windows when you wave at him.

“Sure thing. Don’t miss me.”

He chuckles and pulls out of the parking lot, leaving you alone with a huff of your breath. And then you turn towards the towering restaurant with thoughts of regret.

You’re tired of pretending and you’re tired of going on meaningless dates. And with all honesty, deep down in your heart, you do this to make him potentially jealous. Does it work? You don’t know.

You just want to be with the one you want and get what you crave, differently

You’re right. And Jeongin is…probably, ninety-five percent wrong. Maybe your date is a killer, and you don’t know yet. But Hyunjin is a nice guy and he’s sweet as honey.

He’s sickeningly handsome too, right up your alley but he doesn’t bring that same spark that Jeongin does, so you feel bad as he pours you another drink. You still let yourself indulge in some of his flirty gestures though; they’re kind of cute–really.

“Do you have any hobbies?” He asks, cutting up his (your) lamb chops. You two are playing a classic game of twenty questions but with a twist. If you two have anything remotely similar, you both switch meals.

It’s quite fun and you’ve taken two bites of Hyunjin’s chicken piccata, not counting the one that you shovel into your mouth as his eyes glint at you.

It churns your stomach when you realize that you only see Jeongin’s twinkle in your mind. You’ve fallen bad. Horribly bad.

“Uhh,” You think, “Art. I do a lot of visual art–all kinds I suppose.”

He seems to light up at your words. “Really! Me too!” He takes a small pause. “Maybe you can show me one day.”

“For sure.” You laugh at his excitement finding it endearing. You then gesture to take back your plate. It goes slowly dwindles down; the eagerness and it becomes a little suffocating as you try to think of a question to ask the man in front of you.

Hyunjin who you see doesn’t really mind, picks up the atmosphere immediately and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. A waiter comes by in the meanwhile and fills up his drink, placing a lemon on the top.

Staring at the fruit, dazed and in thought that’s when you recognize that even though Hyunjin was a great man, maybe you should put the date to a stop and apologize.

You felt bad that it was going to be another failed date and that you were going to go home without your feelings sorted and a semi-broken heart.

Your heart aches in a familiar sense as you pull out your phone to text him to pick you up soon.

[You] heyy can you come pick me up???

[Partner in crime] sure, i’m already here. did he do something weird?

[You] nah, he’s sweet. he’s just not my type ig

[Partner in crime] mmmmm ok. does he look as good as he does in his pfp?

[You] why?? are you jealous?

[Partner in crime] …

[Partner in crime] maybe

You’re about to respond to his cryptic texts, your thumbs ready to get sore but Hyunjin suddenly sits down in his seat, and you’re forced to put down your phone.

He takes another bite of his food, finishing it off with a sip of his drink, which he quickly cringes. He quietly tells you that the lemon was too sour for his taste. Meanwhile, you try to open your mouth to say something, but he quickly beats you to it.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

Your eyes widen and your apologetically twist your lips to the side, nodding nervously. Yet he just smiles at your assent and calls for a check.

“I’m sorry. I just…I currently have someone else that I have in mind. You didn’t do anything.”

He just shakes his head. “It’s fine–really. I kind of knew from the start, it’s sort of obvious.” Hyunjin takes a winding sigh as he pays for your meals (you try to refuse but you find him stupidly stubborn).

“Who ‘s the lucky guy though?” He questions, taking your hand so he can help you up before he places a chaste, friendly kiss on the back. You flush a little at his gesture. God, you wish that you didn’t meet him. You feel terrible.

“My friend.”

“I see. How about this? If I walk you to your car right now, you’ll ask him out on a date.” He boasts and you giggle. You accept his preposition, gaining courage from Jeongin’s texts from earlier and let him open the door for you.

You spot Jeongin’s car in the deserted parking lot and point your finger at the black sedan.

On the walk there, you learn a little more about your date and his horrible pick-up confession advice. It’s so stupid that he stumbles around a little because of both of your laughter.

He pushes you when he trips over a well-seen rock like it was your fault that you placed it there and you giggle. He was probably the best date you've had from this app before (excluding Jeongin).

When you get to a respectable distance, you notice that Jeongin isn’t in the car. You suppose that it was so Hyunjin didn’t think you were going home with another man. And even if your date already knew the truth you were grateful that you could have your last words with the man.

Turning around to face him, you smile.

“I’m so sorry Hyunjin.”

His eyebrows furrow and he wobbles a little in his spot, swaying with the wind.

“You…you’ve already apologized. Why are you doing it again?”

You take a step back. “I’m sorry.”

You suppose that you half-heartedly are remorseful because Hyunjin’s an amazing person and you gave him up.

But really aren’t when Jeongin smashes into his face with a wooden bat, splashing blood onto your clothes. Hyunjin falls to the ground, and you grin back at your lover before you both drag the body into the backseat of the car. A bottle of pills in your pocket sears into your skin as you pass the sour drug back to Jeongin.

You two had too much in common; you both met with each other with the same plans unknowingly. You both shared the art of jubilation and the fascination of the dead. Too alike.

But as you stare at him you realize how much you two aren’t. He likes fried chicken. You like it spicy. Jeongin loves the cold, you like it warm.

Yet what makes your heart thrum more is that he takes care of you so charmingly it makes you sick.

He wipes the bodily fluids off you when they splatter, runs you a hot bath after your escapades, and makes sure you eat when you can’t make yourself to. You love him, you really do.

‘Another dead body discovered found off a highway just now…more reports coming to you soon’

The radio buzzes lowly in the background but you don’t pay attention. You only regard Jeongin. The lingering smell of metal wafts through the vehicle even though you already disposed of the body just moments before in a ditch.

You did it together and now you find the bravery that Hyunjin gave you earlier once again.

“Did you make sure to delete the footage?” You start off saying and he gives you a playful glare as if he was offended.

“Of course I did. I was able to get rid of a whole week of film and I even parked in a blind spot when you got him out. Just to make sure.”

You sigh and pull out your phone. It glints off the blood on your face.

“You’re really fucking amazing.”

“I know.” He speaks. You tap him on the shoulder, and he slows down the car a little to face you. Jeongin grins when you pull up your texts with each other.

“What did you mean when you said that you were jealous?”

“Exactly what you think I meant.”

Clicking your tongue, you softly push him. You try to think of what to say because the words of your confession are in your throat and they burn as you try to express your feelings coolly, but Jeongin all of a sudden stops the car and turns off the headlights.

He grabs your hand and interlocks it with his, fingers pressing into your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“What the hell Yang Jeongi–”

He kisses you. And you immediately reciprocate with your bloody hands on his cheeks, staining his skin with the ruby smears. This only pulls him closer towards you as you pull apart for air, just for him to close the gap again.

This time the kiss is sweeter, and you feel the love coursing between your veins. The rush of energy you look for is right here in your arms.

“I love you,” He whispers. Your lover nuzzles into your hands.

“Yeah? Me too.” You kiss his cheek. “But why so suddenly?”

“I didn’t like you with Hyunjin. I actually don’t like you going on dates anymore–I never have. You might leave me if you find someone better.”

You scoff, “Like I would. Don’t worry, you have all of me, Innie.” He stares at you in silence, and you can see the admiration swirling in his eyes.

“All of you?” He squeezes your arm three times and rubs at your lips, where some of the blood collects.

“Always have.”

He kisses you again.

[tbgkaru-woh]

hi! i was just wondering what it is specifically that you dislike about wangxian? i'm kind of intrigued, because while i get how someone could find them boring, i've never really considered anything about their dynamic (and as you mentioned in response to a previous anon, their confession scene) particularly off putting. no pressure to answer this, and this is in no way hate towards you i'm just genuinely curious <3 (i love your art by the way it's gorgeous)

Thank you for the compliment! ♥ This is gonna get ranty so I will hide it below read more as not everyone has to deal with reading this, so proceed with caution :'D

Wangxian is the weakest WWX dynamic. On god, even if I'm not fond of Yanli, they have very loving relationship where they are protective of each other and gentle with each other in a harsh world. I don't ship WWX/JC but their story and complicated love of someone you grow up with and care for deeply but clash constantly with is more interesting than anything wangxian ever had. Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian clicked together so naturally, they are chaotic and are similiarly not too interested in being up to rules. Jin Zixuan and WWX had a potential of going from enemies to partners in crime, to become family and have each other's backs but JZX was cut short and WWX never really cared afterwards either. WWX with the wens took time to build up but his YLLZ farmer era was one of the best WWX's in the story. Damn, even Lan Xichen who's always amused with WWX's temperament and secretly has a drink with wwx and is altogether looser with the rules while still being lawful matches with him way more than LWJ where there's... nothing. They were smashed together for convenience and we were suppossed to just go with it cause they are the two main characters. LWJ feels like he was just made so WWX has a "hot stoic top" to fuck him and the rest of the characters are actually build with the story and therefore feel more natural

Wangxian don't feel like they are in love, not in the way the fans make them out to be into some romantic picture perfect angsty deserved lovestory. LWJ's personal space is constantly disrespected, he's punished constantly for WWX's mistakes, he constantly needs to be the one to adjust to how WWX is instead of the other way around and after all that, LWJ doesn't really /know/ WWX so his attraction feels very idealized. WWX is the bad boy that goes against the rules and LWJ wishes he could be that (or with that) but it's almost a childish infatuation from their Gusu days that never evolved into something more mature. And WWX? I can't see how he'd like LWJ as anything more than in a physical sense. Even their obnoxious "Back then I wanted to sleep with you" confession scene is purely physical. He doesn't really know LWJ or respects him, LWJ is just a familiar face in a world that is against WWX and he's a hot body that likes him. LWJ is an easy score in a way, he's a safe option. And it'd be SO interesting if they went into that, but instead it's played like the only true love (dont forget, they are meant to be as the ONLY gay pairing in MDZS which I find insane when everyone else has more chemistry and in the end gets shat on so wangxian can fuck in a bush. I mean, LWJ leaves LXC to be depressed and alone after everything LXC stands for and did? Fucking ridiculous.)

It tries to "subvert" tropes but ends up being more stereotypical than anything. WWX was almost meant as this jock-y rebellious hotshot but instead we got a quirky twink, early 2000s shonen protagonist and every yaoi's Uke I've been seeing since like 2008. Are they suppossed to be different because the "stoic white-coded" one is not the bottom? Is the bar this low? If anything, this ornament top is the most usual top, let's be real, LWJ barely has personality or growth or focus, he's there to fuck WWX.

This is a petty reason but MXTX's "wangxian is the only gay couple" everyone else being implied straight as if to highlight just how real their love is that they are gay in time period where it's frowned upon, even though Yi City and 3zun combinations had more chemistry than anyone is. Annoying. And so is the "Don't ship them with anyone else and don't switch their dynamics" that fuels some of the most obnoxious people in the fandom to go after fanwork creators that do/like things differently.

All in all Wangxian is THE face of danmei, they are the most known even outside of danmei circles and they are extremely mediocry written for that. I mean, fuck, you put straight couple in their place and I guarantee no one would like it, it has the depth of a high school hormone-riddled couple who have different classes and "only" get to see each other during breaks and make out during lunch with others at the table, idk it's so fucking annoying to me when I know there were better options, when WWX had so many interesting dynamics that got shat on in favor of bland ass ship and I'm tired of having to like it/tolerate it just because it's gay.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, this was extremely healing 🤣

[pruneunfair]

"My feelings on" part 9: Resetting lady, how it uses too much edginess and shock value, examples of edginess done well.

I normally can reread a book rather easily even if it was awful but this one took the whole cake, it was painful to go back and fourth to read.

Synopsis: essentially the FL Karen has died and came back over 100 times (the exact number can vary based on translation but it's usually 117) and because of the endless cycle of dying, regressing, trying different tactics only to die again. Karen officially goes off the deep end and becomes a lunatic.

The synopsis sounded like the beginning of a creepy pasta which really intrigued me into reading 20 chapters but after 5 chapters it stopped being interesting and just got confusing. So to keep readers interested, I've noticed that the plot of resetting lady relied on shock value from it's edgy story line. Within the first few chapters Karen already kills someone via strangulation, at first you think it's Isella, a snobby rich girl who got Karen killed a few times before but its revealed it was actually a maid named Nancy (who also killed Karen in one of her past lives) and thats only one of the deaths. Now obviously that doesn't make the story bad on it's own, after all the summary of the book tells you she's going to murder people.

HOWEVER it's how its executed that makes it honestly cringe worthy. The vibes I got from Karen seemed like a mix of Jeff the killer and someone's joker impression. Like a self insert you'd make when you had a bad day and you want something to get that anger out of you. There's also times where there's just little build up and BOOM! someone dies by Karens hands, some of the characters honestly don't even deserve death.

The plot also jumps back and fourth and since the translation isn't that great it became tiring to actually read it. The ortolan chapters for example started out with a good idea of the dishes resembling greed but then it just got dragged out and confusing. I see what its trying to do but ehh.. it feels as if less effort was put into it so all the time could be spent on the blood and violence, most of it is either just political story lines that get dragged on or a true crime plot

Its not like it's impossible to have edgy content either there's 2 ways edginess can work.

1: serious plot with balanced edginess

Sister im the queen in this life is an example of a serious plot with balanced edgy humor, I may not like it too much but it balances the edgy tone with a light hearted moments relating to Arabella and Alfonso along with the blood and violent behavior being kept at a minimum, Ariande may be a little unhinged and is an evil person but she still works for the most part because her character doesn't feel embarrassing to follow all the time. Another example of media with a lot of edgy humor is an anime I'm a big fan of: Devilman Crybaby, a 10 episode anime that starts off with a lot of gore and TONS of sexual humor but evolves into a deep and tragic tale about two friends ever-growing toxic relationship and how it led to the sucker punch of an ending. I would explain further but honestly Devilman Crybaby is an anime you should watch yourself all the way through to get the full feeling.

The second example of how edgy humor can be done correctly is: A goofy storyline with lack of an actual plot full of as much edgy humor as possible. Now this style is less liked seeing as it's not for everyone (for good reason too) but sometimes you will find yourself a funny dark humored show or book that's just shock humor but it's the right setting and tone to have that level of edge lord humor. Robot chicken is an example of this style and yes it has started to devolve in a lot of ways but nevertheless remainds iconic for its style and humor.

What makes Resetting lady worse then these examples? It tries to be a serious plot with complex characters yet it still tries to hamfist in constant blood and death combined with long arcs that keep bouncing back and fourth. It doesn't have the entertaining plot to keep you invested and it's shock value humor gets old quick when you realize it's the same thing your supposed to be rooting for.

But by far the worst thing resetting lady has done was this

Karen SA's her fiancé and continously disrespects him when he tells her no. This was what really ruined Karen's character and honestly the entirety of the comic when you realize they want you to sympathize with a sexual abuser.

Now I'm the queen in this life and robot chicken dont handle SA great either but at the very least when there is SA you aren't expected to sympathize with the perpetrator, Resetting lady however pushes it to the side because she's unhinged and a troubled FL so that means she's immediately justified in the eyes of the narrative.

By now I stopped reading the rest of it because it was becoming a genuine chore.

Conclusion: Edgy humor and shock value have its place and making a story revolving around said humor isn't bad on its own as long as it's executed properly but resetting lady executes it in one of the worst ways possible, the humor is stale, most of the characters are either extremely unlikable yet your supposed to like them or they have little personality, only ones I was more interested in were Isella and Dulan.

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

so i'm about to post the third chapter of stardust, my goro akechi palace au, and i figured, since i did all that research and incorporated it into my fic i may as well explain all the parallels for the people who are curious or don't know all that much about the mythological figure. i'll do my best to keep this short but jic i'm once again wordy as hell i'll put the rest of this under the cut.

however, one quick note: in addition to some general research, the main sources i used in the research of this fic are the well known disney movie, this classic live action movie (which is really fun and i highly recommend!!), this older novel retelling (also highly recommended, though make sure to find a version that is unabridged), and this newer novel retelling. the older novel is mainly sourced from early legends, while the newer novel is largely sourced from later legends. whenever i make a claim about something happening in the robin hood legends, just know there are many variants, and i'm either presenting one version or an amalgamation of several versions, not the entire picture.

okay, nuff boring preamble. let's get into it already.

robin hood

so, most people know the basics of robin hood, and i clearly state all the ways he directly parallels joker in the text, so i won't go on about that here. however, i did want to take the time to go over the events of the robin hood legend that i covered in the fic. firstly, we have the execution: every adaptation has a version of this scene, but funnily enough, it's almost always a different character who has to be rescued from the gallows. i decided to go with it being robin hood who needed to be rescued, as a part of a general pattern where i took legends that involved the various cast of the myths and instead put robin hood in the starring role. the other example of this in my palace au is when robin hood is the one to join the sheriff's men--in the original it's little john who infiltrates his ranks, all literally just to have a laugh. of course, i changed that aspect to parallel akechi infiltrating the thieves closer. i thought turning robin hood into the star of these stories fit extremely well with akechi's self-centered view of the world. he's the only one who can fulfill these roles, because he has no friends to fill out his merry men who usually star in these legends.

prince john & king richard

despite appearances, robin hood is highkey monarchist propaganda, and its support of the status quo increased as the myth spread--after all, the status quo couldn't let this disrespectful thief be too disrespectful to those in power, right? anyway, that's all to say that while robin hood opposes the current sitting ruler of england, that's because he believes that man has no true claim to the throne. in short, king richard is away fighting the crusades, while his selfish brother prince john rules unjustly, oppressing the people. robin hood is loyal only to king richard, and fights for his sake in his absence--he believes that were he to return, king richard would restore justice to england. also, no, robin hood is not the secret prince or anything like that like in my palace au, that's just made up to parallel akechi--though he is often former, now disgraced, nobility.

guy of gisborne

guy's role in the myth differs depending on the adaptation--in some, he's a nobleman aligned with prince john, while in older legends, he's a fellow outlaw who kills indiscriminately. in the older novel i read, robin hood became an outlaw after committing manslaughter, and he then made an oath never to take another life. however, near the end of the myth he confronts the despicable outlaw guy and determines that he is too evil to be allowed to live--the sheriff and prince john have failed to make guy see justice, and so it falls to robin hood to break his oath and kill guy to protect innocents from his terrible crimes. robin hood murders guy and believes it to be just--and i agree, but it is a terrible tragedy that the failures of a society that abandoned robin hood forced him to abandon his moral codes in order to defend that very society. god. i love early ballads robin hood. he's So Good. anyway, in my adaptation guy more or less stands in for all the lives akechi has taken before he killed akira.

maid marian

maid marian, if she is present, is usually a high lady, sometimes a ward of the king. however, in the earliest legends she appears in, she is a fellow outlaw and master at the sword who beats robin hood while in disguise as a young man, before revealing herself to be his lover. yeah, maid marian rocks. it's too bad they nerfed her in the later updates. unlike in my adaptation, she survives the legend, along with little john--they are both the only ones still present for robin hood's untimely death. (robin hood has two hands.)

the sheriff of nottingham

the sheriff is pretty much always portrayed as the incompetent enforcer of prince john, a stupid man who fails to capture robin hood at every turn and is easily fooled. i enjoyed weaponizing this aspect of his character to portray akechi's anger at joker for dying on him. the sheriff is the one to set up the arrow shooting contest as a trap to capture robin hood, though he usually does not participate in the contest himself. the sheriff dies at the end of the legend, during a final battle with robin hood's merry men. after this battle, robin hood grows sick with regret at killing the sheriff and goes to rest at a nunnery, where he is murdered. yeah. here's the thing: robin hood is a tragedy.

the ending

speaking of, let's get into the ending of the robin hood legend. not only does robin hood die, but while king richard is temporarily restored to the throne and prince john punished, king richard is later sent back to the war and dies in battle, leaving england to prince john's corrupt hands. robin hood loses. he dies, killed by a random nun, the cause he fought for having been for naught now that the king he was loyal to, who should have restored england to its former glory, is dead. 

fucked up, right? yeah, the modern movies don't touch that part of the legend, and for good reason...i thought it fit akechi pretty damn well, though.

[mightyostanes]

Against the Uwuification of Sheydim

"'I've upset you. I see that. But you know what it is to carve out your place in the world, to have to fight for your life at every turn. You can't imagine how much worse it was in my time. Women were sent to madhouses because they read too many books or because their husbands tired of them. There were so few paths open to us. And mine was stolen from me so I forged a new one.' Alex Jabbed a finger at Belbam. 'You don't get to turn this into some kind of feminist manifesto. You forged your new path from the lives of other girls. Immigrant girls. Brown Girls. Poor Girls.' Girls like me. 'Just so you could buy yourself another few years.'" -Galaxy Stern shutting up a soul eating revenant Source: Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

First off this is my first post on Tumblr so please forgive any issues with formatting. I'm still getting used to this site's layout let alone writing anything that isn't solely for my own addled and deranged mind. Still, I hope that this is at least somewhat insightful.

Over the last few years I've noticed that there has been a tendency among young Jews online to make our folklore and mysticism 'cuddlier'. To suggest that not only do we have a hell but that quite literally everything in our cosmos is friendly and misunderstood. Sheydim become relatable mascots of groups traditionally marginalized within the Jewish community. The leviathan is treated as G-d's pet who isn't dangerous whatsoever and is instead merely a big fish. Malachim generally like humans and are on good terms with the Jewish Community. And Lilith becomes an empowered girl boss with her malewife Ashmedai. A lovely story that makes great fanfiction and Jewish aus, the only problem is that it's completely ahistorical and utterly misses the point of these stories.

Sheydim while not exactly ontologically evil were usually depicted as predatory, amoral and capricious. A good portion of Bava Batra 74-75 is dedicated to describing how pants shittingly terrifying the Leviathan is and how it could theoretically destroy the world. Malachim are often depicted as threats and enemies of Israel especially in narratives regarding the revelation of the Torah at Sinai (Exodus Rabbah (41.7; 44:8), Tanhuma (Ki Tissa 20), PdRE 45, and Deut. Rabbah (3.11). And Lilith as well all know kills newborn children and was the terror of expectant Jewish Mothers for centuries. With the origin of her being 'Adam's first wife' coming from the Alphabet of Ben Sirach. A satiric work written in the late Middle Ages centuries after the first attested use of amulets and incantation bowls to ward of Lilith or lilin in Mesopotamia. Even Ashmedai for all his honor and piety was still treated as an enemy of mankind on average even if he was by no means an enemy of G-d. Of course, that is not to say that Jews haven't worked with spirits in fact the opposite is true. Merely that these spirit workings were often treated as incredibly dangerous works that were a mixture of lion taming and nuclear engineering. Descenders of the Merkavah had to battle through throngs of angels to reach the throne. Sar Torah mystics had to gird themselves with spiritual armor not to be annihilated by the angels for the crime of existing in a similar dimension to them. Even the act of Indulcio or sweetening the spirits often performed by wise women in many Sephardic communities was very much akin to paying off the mafia or in more historically accurate terms, paying Jizya.

My personal opinion on the reason for this trend is specifically because most Jewish content creators have been immersed in culturally Christian environments their whole lives. So, it would make sense for them to want to participate in the modern trend of telling things from the monster's side of the story. Something that is intrinsically tied to the fact that most of these monsters were metaphors for or linked to the powerless and the marginalized. In these scenarios, to show the story from the monster or demon's perspective would be an easy way of challenging societal narratives that do have real harmful impact even if very few people use the literal threat of werewolves and Medusa as bludgeons against marginalized communities.

Second of all there has been a major trend in making Judaism 'the leftist religion'. The religion without the fire and brimstone ideas of sin and hell that turned so many people to secularism. Progressive Judaism often advertises itself as the religion where evil is simply a misunderstanding and that's all cleared up there will be no more evil. We prided ourselves for years for fighting people who wanted to annihilate use with compassion and understanding. That surely rather than being bad they were merely tragically misguided souls who needed our help.

The problem with this in a Jewish context is that from the destruction of the Second Temple onwards our monsters were usually much more powerful than us in every sense of the word. In our stories, the were-panther who preyed on children was not the despised woodsman but the local bishop who no doubt incited very real pogroms against us. In our folklore, the heretical necromancer wasn't some liberated free thinker but someone who converted to the dominant religion and helped to persecute their former compatriots. Even Lilith who has become the mascot for a sort of 'persecuted heterodox' Judaism was by no means persecuted on the world stage in most Kabbalistic Treatise. In these works, Lilith was not the despised vagabond crushed by a patriarchal power system but the consort of Samael and the Princess of the realm of Edom. Symbols of the Christian and Islamic empires that have persecuted us for thousands of years. Or to put it in a snappy manner, the Lilith of the Zohar has much more in common with Margaret Thatcher than Rosa Luxemburg.

Now is there sexism and xenophobia in our own stories of monsters and demons? Unfortunately, yes. The amount of sexist and ethnically chauvinist tropes applied to Lilith in the Zoharic corpus alone are almost impossible to count and deeply troubling for modern readers. But that doesn't change the fact that Lilith was first and foremost a metaphor for SIDs and later on the non Vatican sanctioned medieval Marian Cults that replaced the drinking of sacramental wine with the spilling of Jewish blood as their main devotional acts.

Nor do I think that having progressive or universalist values in Judaism is at all a bad thing. I fully believe in the inclusion of those marginalized by the Rabbinic establishments in the past and do not wish to see us delight in cruelty. In fact, one of my biggest fears is that we might begin to ignore the suffering of gentiles because we rightly or wrongly assume they hold strong antisemitic biases. It's just that now, in an era of increasing antisemitic violence from all sides of the aisle it doesn't seem like a good idea to try and fight people who want to destroy us with beatific compassion and understanding.

[north-noire]

Hello!! :D I haven’t sent an ask before. But honestly, I just want to say how much I love your AU! It’s quite original if I’m being honest, and very well written. I can tell how much you put into making a good story. I also love how you portray certain characters, like William for example. As we see in the first arc, he’s kind, caring and try’s to help out his friend despite him being the one to cause his pain- he has a more positive vibe to him but in the most recent chapter, he’s cold and honestly just doesn’t seem really like himself anymore. I mean, I get it, he got away with murder. Yet he still cares about his kids. And I just love the writing when Henry and William interact (post Henry knowing about what Will did). It’s just so well written. All I’m here to say is I love your AU a lot <3 and I’m happy The Emily’s are getting some love! Because in my opinion, they’re super underrated. And remember to take breaks, writing a fic must be really hard- so just remember to rest, eat and drink water! ^^

OMG I just saw this just now!! Hello!! This is going to be a REALLY long post so to not clog up everyone's feed I'll add a "read more" so I don't feel like I'm talking so much X"D

Oh my god for real?? This means so much to hear (and quite motivating I'll be honest -- it gets difficult writing/creating on some days, you know)! I guess all my work I've spent on writing/making OC stories on the side really came into clutch for it (though, funnily -- writing HH AU had also actually helped me rewrite/revamp a LOT of those stories so it's kind of like a mutualistic symbiotic relationship, haha), but also, thank the beta readers I have + the FNAF brainrot besties (you know who you guys are) for helping me be confident and be able to brainstorm plot and story scenes while keeping everything nicely tied into a bow! Be thankful for them, they also help me polish scenes/give their feedback on how I could improve things!

I'm really glad a lot of people seemed to really like the way I wrote William! I'll be honest, I used to be extremely anxious (I sort of still am) about it because I thought people wouldn't like it or think I'm coddling him because he deviates a bit from how people usually portray William (which isn't bad at all, by the way! Canon-adjacent wise, it totally checks out that William would have abusive tendencies towards his children to some extent, considering how effed the 70s-80s were, and sometimes an evil William really does pack a punch and can be written MASTERFULLY for sure. Some people are really just assholes, after all.), but I really wanted to have a take where he's still capable of human emotions (unfortunately, like most abusers tend to be) while still being very much someone unpleasant and selfish. It probably helped that most of the people I took inspiration from is Bojack Horseman (shitty guy) and Felix Kranken (from TWF) haha.

I know it's heavily implied/outright stated that William killed Charlie out of jealousy in the novels (which is true), and while it also does applies my interpretation as well, he is actually pretty guilty of what he did to the Emilys to some extent, because he actually cares about both of them, they are his family friends, after all. But because he's a coward (and a selfish man at this point), he just never owns up to what he did, just choosing to let everything move past what had happened for self-preservation, in the guise of "who will be the one taking care of the kids if I get in trouble for this"?

I really like writing the contrast of William's a genuinely good father to his kids (though he's not perfect, he's still a shitty guy to some extent) and compared to his interactions with basically everyone else lmao. It just really highlights how selfish and self-centered he is -- kind of like parents who stick by their kids who had committed crimes or really horrible acts, I suppose?

It really means a lot that you think the interaction of William and Henry post-Charlie's death is really interesting! I love writing it too, there's so much passive aggressiveness and then so much unspoken resentment, it's insane, given how close they both used to be as friends! I really wanted to emphasize how distant their "friendship" (if you can even call it that) became!

It really really means a lot that you love the writing, I can't emphasize it enough (and for the other readers who might be reading this post) -- like genuinely, I don't know what to respond with, but it really means so much! You guys are the reason I really give it my all with this fic <3 It always amazes me and shocks me to find out people still stumble on my fic and decides; yeah I'm gonna read this!

Oh, the Emilys are extremely underrated, 100 percent. Somehow I ended up being very attached to them, but hey, I'll take it. I'll never shut up about them, but hoping that the FNAF 2 movie gives them a little more spotlight, hopefully? Because that'd be nice!

Thank you for the reminder, I do my best to take care of myself, even though I do have my bad days. You should take care of yourself too! I hope you have a wonderful day, and just know that this ask really made my night <3

[residentevilbrews]

~RE OCs interview~

~OC Interview Questions about Their Partners~

1.Can you describe your partner in three words?

Fawn: oh I've got two partners...fiddlesticks, give me a minute!

Shiloh: full of himself.

Alan: She's so independent.

Fawn: Okay! For Claire, she's smart, understanding and focused. Leon is charming, sweet and....dog-like?

Shiloh: The hell Fawn? Dog-like? seriously?

Fawn: .....Is that technically two words?

Alan:.....Does it not count since it's two words?

Shiloh: The hell should I know??

2. How did you meet your partner?

Fawn: In a police department building. He was a cop and I was in a cell.

Shiloh: Context Fawn! context!

Fawn: What do you mean?

Shiloh: It sounds like you flirted with him to get outta prison.

Fawn: I-I wasn't imprisoned for any crime! It was because I was gonna be um...offed by the chief.

Shiloh: I met my....partner in Spain. He kind of just followed me like a lost stray. -rolls her eyes-

Alan: I was shot down by her while I was in my helicopter and she almost killed me. -smiles-

Shiloh: The fuck?

Fawn: Should I be concerned?

3. What is your partner’s biggest passion or hobby?

Fawn: Um....Claire loves her motorcycles, she races them, and even can fix some depending on the brand. -Thinks-

Shiloh: Aside from science and research, Luis enjoys reading. The fucker has a whole office of books in his apartment. He's very much into mythology and fairytale like stories the most....yeah, it's not all true, but the tales are exciting to him.

Fawn: Aww, do you like seeing him excited over those books?

Shiloh: S-Shut up....I'm just glad it shuts him up. You also forgot to answer about Leon's hobbies or passions....if the dork even has any.

Fawn: Oh right! Leon's into photography.

Shiloh:.....He's into photography??? Are you serious?

Fawn: -nods- he likes taking pictures of nature and cities....he likes being able to remember the good times ya know.

Alan: I don't know where to begin for Inez. But her biggest passion is her children. Her hobbies outside of missions and her kids....surprisingly she enjoys quilting by hand, because she's used to being stabbed.

4. What’s one quirk or habit your partner has that makes you smile?

Fawn: Claire holds my hand a lot when we're at the bar. Mostly to let people know I'm taken....it's really nice to feel wanted. Oh! And Leon tries to dance with me....even though he can't dance to save his life.

Shiloh: He can't dance?

Alan: I would've thought that Kennedy boy knew how to dance? I mean look at his hair.

Fawn: N-No....he's so shy about bringing that up. When I told him I danced a lot, I specialize in disco. When he learned I loved dancing....he admitted he didn't know how. i'm still teaching him. -smiles-

Shiloh: Pfftt, Luis ALWAYS 'monitors' his and my house whenever I'm visiting or he's visiting, always looking at the windows and doors. It's become a bit of a habit....he says he's always trying to make sure we're safe when we talk or hang out. It's sweet....in it's own overly protective kind of way I guess?

Alan: Inez writes down my favorite things.....she always puts it into her 'remember' book. It's a book she has to remember important things about people in her life.....I thought it was odd....till i realized how important it is to her to make sure everyone around her is happy. The stressfulness of being an agent and a single mother makes it hard for her to remember stuff that's why she has that book. She does so hard for everyone around her. I really appreciate that about her.

5. How does your partner handle stress or tough situations?

Fawn: Claire tries to play it cool and calmly. Leon does the same thing, but he does this thing where he constantly brushes his hands through his hair....or he drinks sometimes.

Shiloh: -sighs- Luis laughs it off. Smiles through it. He's kind of a hard optimistic kind of guy.

Alan: Inez is very quiet, she sometimes forgets to respond to me when I talk to her. She usually blocks the stress out and work it out later I'm assuming.

6. What is your partner’s favorite way to spend a weekend?

Fawn: Claire likes leaving to travel on her motorcycle finding a small town or city she's never been to. And spending her weekend in motels or hotels..she says it's like leaving her life behind for just a few days.

Shiloh: There'll be weekends where Luis won't respond to me or call, because he decided to binge read...sometimes he forgets to eat when he's reading. I have to go over to his place and make sure he does.

Alan: Inez loves spending time with her kids. When she's not able to do that, she tends to be working on her garden, or if it's cold...she's often working on her quilting.

7. What is one thing your partner does that you admire?

Fawn: Claire's thing is her ability to keep going, even if the odds are against her. She's so cool like that. -hums- As for Leon, when he's sleeping he does this...thing where he clings to whatever he's holding....it could be his blanket or pillow....it's so adorable.

Shiloh: So....you admire Claire's confidence....and Leon's cuteness?

Fawn: -nods her head- Yup. What about you Shy?

Shiloh: -Sighs- If you can say that about Leon, then for Luis....it's when he's getting frustrated over something he can't control. -smirks-

Fawn: Like....?

Shiloh: Like when he doesn't have the answer to everything. -snickering-

Alan: For Inez, it's when she's able to multitask, she once was on the phone while preparing dinner and she even had time to finish the crossword! I've never met a woman who could do that before.

Shiloh: you're impressed with a crossword?

Alan: yes....she's such a great woman. -smiling-

8. How do you and your partner communicate?

Fawn: This will take a while, um, Claire and I tend to talk the most. Like once we start talking we can't....Leon often has to step in if we've been at it for multiple hours....or sometimes he joins in.

Shiloh: I usually have to message Luis to quit staying up all night. We're well social wise? -shrugs-

Alan: We talk frequently on the phone, but whenever I'm busy, she leaves sticky notes in my office or my kitchen whenever she stops by to deliver me lunch or dinner. or buys me groceries....I do shopping for her too....but she insists I ask her before hand cause I forget what the kids are allowed to eat. I remember I bought junk food cause kids like ice cream.....Inez was thankful I was thoughtful, but she got frustrated that the kids had sugar rushes....so I can't buy anything with sugar or is processed or--

Shiloh: Alan, nobody wants to hear you talk about groceries.

Alan: Oops....sorry.

9. What is your partner’s favorite memory with you?

--SWITCHING TOOOOO THEIR PARTNERS--

Claire: My favorite memory with Fawn? Gee, that's a toughie.

Leon: What about that picnic? -looks to Claire-

Claire: Maybe, let's see, it was before 2003, she and I went to the store. We were doing window shopping, she kept staring at this doll. I asked her what was wrong? She said she never got that many toys when she was a kid and never got a chance to play with the other girls with their dolls.

Leon: She didn't?

Claire: No, so I bought her a custom doll after finding out what type she wanted, surprised it to her for her birthday. -smiles- What about you Leon?

Leon:....I guess it was after i came back from that Krauser mission in 2002.....I....she was waiting for me at the airport during my time off. It felt like something out of a movie.....-looks away-

Luis: ALRIGHT, My turn everyone~ -smirks-

Inez: you have no patience do you Serra?

Luis: Nope, not me. -chuckles- My favorite moment with Shiloh was when she first told me she was attracted to me.

Leon: To this day I still wonder how that's possible.

Claire: Leon shh.

Luis: It was after a long night at the lab, she was in nothing but a trench--

Shiloh: YOU FUCKING DICK THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY BETWEEN YOU AND ME YOU LITTLE--*Getting dragged away from Fawn and Alan to go back to the other room*

Inez: -sighs- Now it's my turn. My favorite memory with Alan has to be when he was helping me with a bake sale for my kids school, I had no clue he was talented. The way he kept focused, his consideration for allergies and helping with the other parents during the sale. It made me feel like....I have someone who completely understands my goals for my children.

10. What are your partner's dreams or goals for the future?

-SWITCHING BACK TO THE MAIN CHARACTERS-

Fawn: Claire's would be to make the world a better place through Terrasave. As for Leon....it's to just do what he can to protect the innocent.

Shiloh: Something about getting us a Farm for us to live on? For some reason....he wants a damn donkey to name Dapple? -shrugs-

Alan: She wants to give her kids the best education possible.

11. Can you share a time when your partner surprised you?

Fawn: Claire once snuck into my bed.....with a container of ice cream.

Shiloh: WHY?

Fawn: She said she was bored and wanted ice cream but didn't wake me to ask if I wanted some.

Shiloh: What about Leon?

Fawn: He surprised me once when he joined her in the bed.

Shiloh:......You seriously surprised they didn't share?

Fawn: YES.

Shiloh: -sighs- Luis surprised me by actually being jealous of other guys. So seeing him irritated was hilarious.

Alan: I was surprised she didn't kill me when I fell out of that helicopter.

12. What do you think your partner values most in a relationship?

Fawn: Claire's is honesty, and Leon values our partnership.

Shiloh: My opinion.....sometimes.

Alan: Respect towards everyone she knows and loves.

13. If you could plan a perfect day for your partner, what would it look like?

Fawn: Well, I know we'd all love to go to one of those resorts? For just one day of relaxing and hanging out and having fun. That's how simple our perfect day is.

Shiloh: ......His would just be sleeping in, and a good coffee, oh....and cinnabons.

Alan: Taking Inez and her kids to the amusement park, I'm scared of rollercoasters....so maybe not those? and....mirror mazes...I had a bad experience with mirror mazes.

THAT'S ALL FOLKS~ UNTIL NEXT INTERVIEW~