#like i said earlier: exclamation points!!!!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello hello!! I was not expecting requests to be open again so fast, but i am DEVOURING your writing, so i shan't complain!

What about Dogday getting saved by a teenager who’s desensitized to the horrors of the factory? Like of course, they’re perturbed, but aside from initially seeing Dogday(because holy shit), the biggest reaction they’ll give is a cringe and a “eugh” or some other mild exclamation of “that’s fucked up.” Essentially just Dogday interacting with a kid who’s weirdly chill with the circumstances and tries to be silly sometimes despite the persisting horrors.

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!!

Awe thanks! Have a good day/night too!

.......

"You..you're Poppy's angel..come to save us-"

"Eugh..what the hell happened to you?"

While back in the day, Dogday would've scolded you for using profane language...he finds it understandable considering you discovered him in his....erm..current condition.

The initial shock of seeing him would have anybody from outside the factory deeply disturbed.

But he's surprised that you're not fully freaked out and didn't run away.

Instead you manage to get him out of the Playhouse (while curbstomping a few little critters who tried crawling into his body along the way) and found a safe spot to rest.

Despite his insistence that you should leave him, you point out that he mentioned you saving him earlier.

"When you said "us", I thought that included you, too."

"I-I meant the others. The ones who can still walk..and still have a fighting chance. Look at me, kid. All I'm gonna do is weigh you down."

"....I mean, you are kinda heavy. But I've lifted worse with this grabpack. I got you."

He's confused by how oddly calm you are about everything.

If you were able to get down this far in the facility, you would've had to cross paths with Huggy, Mommy, Catnap, and Miss Delight at some point.

By all accounts, you definitely should've been traumatized at least from seeing all the bloody toys laying around.

Yet you're cool as a cucumber as you try your best to fix him (with assistance from Kissy, Ollie, and Poppy, of course, who are stunned you came out of the Playhouse alive)

Dogday remembers how scared the children were during the Hour of Joy, comforting them as he helped them flee the terror...so to be comforted by a kid now felt strange.

Yet your calm demeanor helps ground him whenever he starts to have a panic attack over Catnap finding him or if he feels like a critter or two is already inside of him, trying to take hold and eat whatever organs he had remaining (but it's just a sensation he feels from time to time).

You snap him out of it by asking rather silly questions.

"What if I stuck a flare in your mouth? Would that deter them?"

"...what? Um...I-I suppose that could work, but hopefully it's not a theory we have to test anytime soon.."

Even if Poppy decided to show you the Hour of Joy tape (which he had to look away from and tried persuading you to do the same), your only reaction is a slight grimace and a simple "damn wtf....you guys think any of those workers were running late or didn't go in that day?"

Dogday is shocked you'd joke at a time like this...but she knows you better and tells him you're just like That(tm).

You do care about them. You do wanna destroy the Prototype and save whoever you can along the way--including him.

It just may take some time for him to get used to your personality.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Dialogue

Dialogue is a spoken exchange between multiple characters in a play, film, TV show, or another type of creative writing.

Writing dialogue reveals character development, speech patterns, and mannerisms, which can also propel the plot forward.

Often, authors employ realistic dialogue that captures how specific people speak.

Sometimes they use direct dialogue (showing what a character wants), and other times they are rich in subtext (illuminating depth beneath the surface of the exchange).

How to Format Dialogue Dialogue formatting can show verbal exchanges between two characters effectively.

Consider these guidelines on how to punctuate dialogue:

Quotation marks. Writers should use double quotation marks to encase a character’s spoken words. Single quotation marks may appear within dialogue when someone is quoting another.

Dialogue tag. Writers typically insert a comma at the end of a sentence as a dialogue tag to denote the speaker (such as: “Let’s eat,” Travis said.). The comma should appear comma before the closing set of quotation marks.

Closing punctuation after quotation marks. An exclamation point or question mark may also appear before the closing quotation marks.

New paragraph. When characters talk back and forth to one another, start a new section each time another character speaks a line of dialogue.

How to Write Dialogue

Consider the following writing tips from Judy Blume on how to craft strong dialogue:

Dialogue breaks up your text. Writers can use dialogue to enliven long blocks of text. “I'll flip through a book, and if it's dense, dense, dense, dense, no paragraphs, no dialogue, I don't want to read it,” Judy says. “But dialogue lightens up your book on the page. You want white space on the page. Dialogue gives you that: playlets, I often put in little playlets in my book; it's like a little play within a scene.”

To write better dialogue, read more of it. Authors write great dialogue by reading great dialogue. “Reading and reading and reading, you will find what's good dialogue, what you think is good dialogue, and what you think is wooden and not very good dialogue,” Judy says. “And you will learn from that just by reading it and reading it and going to the next book and finding it because it's there. It's in every novel. There's dialogue.”

Keep your word choice simple. In a few of her earlier works, Judy did not use the word “said” when writing dialogue. “I decided that I would write this whole novel without ever using he word ‘said,’ that said was such a boring word,” she says. “‘He said.’ ‘She said.’ I had my thesaurus by my side, and my characters did everything but say. My characters exclaimed. They beguiled. And they did everything but say. Throw away your thesaurus when you’re writing.”

Write realistic voices. Developing a character’s voice requires observing real-life exchanges and using smart word choices. “It’s a question of capturing the way people talk when they're talking to each other on the street, you know, in the workplace, wherever,” Judy says. “Your characters should each speak as themselves, meaning they are believable and recognizable.”

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟒𝐤

↬ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬/𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭

↬ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐥'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐄𝐎.

"Oh, my God!"

Your sudden exclamation of excitment startles both of your friends, their pretty eyes quickly shifting from their plate of snacks to your face, waiting for you to continue.

The alcohol has already made its way into your system and different than both Aeri and Jimin, you're more of a lightweight, so it didn't take more then three shots for you to get tipsy. But after a week, especially this particular dad, so exhausting and challenging, you're more than just ready to let it all go and enjoy yourself.

Working for Park Jongseong has definitely been...an experience. Your schedule isn't as demanding and physically exhausting as your previous part time jobs, yet the responsibility being a secretary comes with has definitely taken its mental toll on you. The urge to do everything as perfect as possible, just because you're genuinely afraid of disappointing your boss is a lot more than you thought and at this point you're not quite sure if you can actually handle it all.

To your luck, you've got something similar to a week off, due to Park Jongseong's physical absence, yet you're pretty sure you'll still have enough to do until he's back. It's not like you don't actually enjoy your job, it's more about your subconscious desire to please and satisfy your boss to gain his validation and approval.

Before you can actually get to the part where you curse at your father for not being part of your life, you turn your phone to show your girls the chat between you and Park Nayeon, your self proclaimed guardian angel, who is about to head over to the manifesto as well, leaving all three of you incredibly excited.

"That's so cool", Aeri giggles and takes a sip from her cute little cocktail, "I really hope she spends some time with us, too. I sound like a pathetic school girl who wants to be friends with the school's IT girl, what the fuck."

Her self awareness has you all chuckling, the music blaring in the background as you're all too comfortable to actually get up and dance. But neither one of you cares enough as the drinks do exactly what they're supposed to do and the need for sexual satisfaction from earlier has almost completely disappeared.

"Apparently it's Lee Heeseung's birthday", you say after reading Nayeon's next messages, "and Seoul's big four are headed here to celebrate. Yeonie said she's gonna try and have us invited into the VIP section as well."

It's this particular statement which has the three of you stop in your tracks. Just the thought of spending a night at the club with the four most important men of the company you all work for seems a lot less inviting than a single addition to your girls' night.

Jimin takes a deep breath and from the way she nervously puts her drink down, you can tell that the anxiety has yet to lose the fight against the alcohol in her system.

"I'm out", she quickly says and looks around, "I can't even look Mr. Park in the eyes when we happen to get into the same elevator at the company, there's no way I'm going to party with him. Or whatever he does at a club like this."

With a soft nod you agree with her words, feeling quite similar about your boss' presence, especially after the praising incident from earlier today.

"Let's just head out and have some beef at Ruby's", you say and start looking around to find one of the pretty waitresses who played a huge role in the greatness of your night.

"Oh, come on, babes!" Aeri suddenly says and looks at the two of you with her pretty lips pushed into a faux pout to gain your sympathy.

"Just an hour", she says and scoots closer to you on the little couch you're both seated in, "and then we'll leave and the meat's on me, I promise."

Jimin quickly shoots you a look of uncertainty, which you simply mirror as you start nibboing on your bottom lip.

You really don't want to run into your boss and his friends, no matter how nice they are, they're still your superiors and you can't help but feel like you're under constant observation when it comes to them.

On top of it all you really, really don't want Park Jongseong to look at you and remember the things you had said a few hours ago, the embarrassment and humiliation still very prominent in your guts.

But you're also more than aware that there probably won't be another opportunity like this for you to spend time with Nayeon, since she's a lot busier than she claims to be and you're usually too shy and hesitant to hit her up.

"I'm so tipsy already", you whine and roll your eyes once you realise you've all silently agreed to stay in this very moment, "I guess I just won't speak. Please don't make me embarrass myself even more, I'm begging you."

"Don't worry, Babe", Aeri says and holds her drink up with a big smile and excitement gleaming in her eyes, "we're going to have a great time!"

Just as you're about to join your best friend, the music suddenly stops and the crowd on the dance floor underneath the three of you as well as everyone else starts cheering, "Happy Birthday" replacing the previous hip hop song and that's when you realise who just arrived.

With big, curious eyes you watch Seoul's most known and loved Bachelors walk into the club, all of them dressed simply, yet as classy as one might expect.

With the owner of the club, TPC's very loved and appreciated CMO and today's birthday boy leading their pack, Lee Heeseung looks as charming and cool as ever. All four of them are dressed in simple dress shirts varying in colors, with their classic slacks, yet adding their own charms to the outfits with individual pieces of jewelry you know cost more than your monthly salary.

You don't even realise who your gaze has shifted to, until his dark eyes meet yours through the crowds of people, as if he felt your presence before actually seeing you.

Park Jongseong.

With your heart thrumming in your throat, you try to calm yourself down, yet as soon as you notice the way his usually so cold and stoic gaze starts roaming your face, you can't stop your brain from remembering your conversation from earlier, jolts of weird excitement and anticipation rushing through you. Maybe you'll actually have a good time with each orher tonight.

"Oh, no, not her."

You don't even get the chance to properly process Aeri's comment as your focus shifts from the CEO to the angel like women on his arm.

Her face is small and petite, shaped like the one of an ancient goddess and for a moment you actually forget to inhale.

Yoo Shiah, one of Seoul's biggest fashion influencers, who just so happens to be the daughter of famous and influential business man Yoo Yongho, one of The Park Company's biggest and most important partners to this date.

You physically can't stop yourself from staring at her and it doesn't take you long to realise it's mostly because of how close she is to your boss, rather than her beauty.

A weird feeling starts spreading in your tummy and like a child caught doing something forbidden, you quickly lower your head. You hate how much the sight of them so close together has affected you within just a few minutes.

You're surprised at your own behavior, since you, just like the entirety of South Korea, knows about the close bond those two share with each other. They're not titled Seoul's couple of the future for nothing after all.

"Let's just say Hi to Yeonie and then leave, please", you say and gulp harshly, too ashamed of the emotions your body's currently trying to process.

You genuinely don't understand where these feelings of envy and jealousy come from. You've only known Park Jongseong for about six weeks and besides the fact that he's never talked to you about anything that's not work related – with today as an exception – there's absolutely no reason for you to feel and think all of these things.

With a soft sigh, you try to hide the sudden wave of sadness overwhelming you, right before you actually curse your absent father for putting you into this situation in the first place.

If he had actually kept his promise and showed up when you needed him to, you wouldn't have gotten your hopes up from a single, simple verbal praise from your boss.

"Yeah, I really don't wanna be around that annoying bitch", Aeri adds casually and downs the rest of her cocktail in one go.

Jimin remains completely silent and for some reason you find comfort in your shared anxiety regarding this particular situation.

By the time the celebration song comes to an end, the four business men as well as their few friends have made their way to the VIP section, finally giving you the room to breathe, only for the loud call of your name have everyone's attention shift to you.

"There she is, the prettiest girl I've ever seen!"

Park Nayeon's voice is filled with excitement, slightly slurred and despite the discomfort of being stared at by your boss and his friends, you can't help but mirror your new friend's big smile as you hand Aeri your glass and get up to approach her.

"I'm so glad we finally got to see each other again!" Her voice is loud and you can feel everyone's eyes boring into you from all sides, but without actually hesitating, you pull the sweet brunette into a tight hug.

"Me too", you say and chuckle at the way she actually places a soft kiss on your cheek, "you look amazing."

"Says you! How does it feel to sit at the table for the sexiest girls in the club?"

Nayeon doesn't miss a beat as she throws her arm over your shoulders and turns to look at your best friends, waving at them with her pretty lips stretched into a bright smile before she introduces herself to your girls.

"Why don't you guys join us in the b-", "Thank you so much, Yeonie. But unfortunately we were just about to leave!"

You're quick to interrupt her to make sure your boss, as well as his friends who have actually approached the four of you as well, hear exactly about your departure.

"Happy birthday, Sir", you say once your gaze lands on the the handsome face of Lee Heeseung, who just thanks you with a soft smile.

"All three of you are sincerely welcome to join us", Sim Jaeyun says and casually shoots you a wink, his plump bottom lip pulled between his teeth and for a moment you can't hide how flustered you get.

The sudden clearance of a throat gains your attention and slightly confused you let your gaze fall to the tallest of the men in front of you.

"Hi there, sweetheart", Park Sunghoon, the company's head lawyer says, his voice just loud enough to reach you through the music and you physically can't stop yourself from smiling even bigger.

"Hi, Hoonie", you smile back and push a strand of hair behind your ear, enjoying the way he seems so genuine when you both know about his reputation.

You'd never sleep with him, not because of the things everyone has to say about him or because he's not your type, but because you'd rather not be part of the girls on his long, long list.

For some reason, your conscience forces you to also verbally acknowledge the main reason for your discomfort, so with a bit of an uncomfortable smile, you turn to look at your boss, who just so happens to have his eyes fixated on you already.

"Good evening, Sir", you say and hate how much you crave his approval, only to be disappointed when Jongseong doesn't deem you worthy of a verbal response. All you get is a nod.

A fucking nod.

"Are you guys sure?", Yeonie asks with genuine sadness in her eyes, yet it's not enough for you to change your mind. You have to leave right now or the mixture of alcohol and anxiety is going to embarrass you to the point of no possible recovery.

"I don't think it's appropriate for us to join you", you suddenly reply way too honest, surprising all of them, including the CEO, with your response, "I know how strict Mr. Park is about keeping things between himself and his employees strictly business, so it's better if we leave now."

Aeri and Minie don't add anything but head movements to your little explanation, too flabbergasted to speak and too overwhelmed to react otherwise.

You have no idea what's gotten into you, the sudden urge to be petty just taking over without giving your brain the time to overthink.

"Well, you're not my employee and these two don't give a fuck about that, too", Sunghoon chuckles and looks at you with amused eyes, "three beats one. We'd love for you all to spend some time with us."

"Come on, Y/N", Lee Heeseung suddenly says and leaves you absolutely defenceless, "are you really going to leave me hanging on my birthday?"

With a quick look to your girls and a nod in response to your silent question, all you can do is shake your head and accept their offer.

The following hour passes with a lot more laughter and silly jokes as well as old high school stories from your boss and his friends than you would have expected, and despite the fact that said superior has yet to acknowledge your existence, you're actually having a good time.

By the time 1AM rolls around, you feel the exhaustion and tiredness of the past week finally catch up on you and with a soft smile, you excuse yourself to go to the ladies' room, refusing your best friends' offer to join you, since you can feel the urge to be by yourself slowly take over you.

After giving yourself five minutes and touching up your lipstick, you make your way back to the group, only for your plans to be stopped as you run into a strong chest.

"What the – Changuk?"

Your ex boyfriend's name leaves your lips almost instinctively as you look up at him and manage to recognize the face you had loved for over a year.

Overwhelmed by the sudden run in, it takes you a good moment to realise that he's wearing a suit, a tiny little label clipped to his chest which approved your assumptions.

"You're a security guard?"

"Well, hello to you too, pretty one", he chuckles and for some reason you forget about your shared past for a single moment. You haven't seen each other in several months, six to be exact. And as your slightly clouded brain tries to stay focused on the most important things, you can't help but somehow feel a sense of comfort hit you.

"Congratulations", Changuk sudddnly says with his pretty lips stretched into a genuine smile, "I heard you got a job at The Park Company."

"Thank you, Chanie", you sigh and try to remain as composed as possible, "I guess I can only give that one back. How come you started working here?"

The two of you catch up a little, your ex boyfriend never once missing the opportunity to start a few flirting attempts, which you determinedly shut down to make sure he doesn't get the wrong message.

You made the mistake of going back to him once, you're not about to make it seen like you'd ever do something as stupid as that again.

As your conversation with the security guard continues, you don't even notice how much time passes, yet you're quite sure nobody would actually notice the length of your absence.

Little do you know that Park Jongseong's eyes have been glued to the very back of the VIP section for the past ten minutes.

And with every additional minute, it seems to get more and more difficult to keep his composure.

Jongseong doesn't understand what it is about you, yet the urge to not only keep you close to himself but also make sure you're alright and well taken care of in general has slowly overtaken every single pore of his body.

He doesn't care about you. He shouldn't. The rules he's set up for himself with your employment are as clear as possible, yet they don't seem enough to stop him from getting up.

With a made up excuse, Jongseong casually makes his way to the very back, knowing he would never forgive himself if something actually did happen to you, even if the possibilities are small.

As he slowly approaches the toilets, Jay can't help but wonder at what point he decided to act on these stupid urges and how he threw all of his plans of keeping everything between the two of you as professional as possible out of the window.

Maybe it's the few glasses of whiskey finally settling into his system or maybe it's his natural protector instinct, but for some stupid reason, he can't help the way he feels about you.

Knowing you've never had a man give what you've obviously been longing for has given him these false hopes that maybe he's the one to do just that.

He's been thinking about your reaction to his little comments about your phone conversation for the past eight hours and the fact he found himself fucking his fist to the thought of you kneeling between his legs, looking up and quietly asking for nothing but a few sweet words of praise and affirmation definitely didn't help with the chaos in his head.

Jay's never had these issues with an employee before. For fuck's sake, he's never had these kind of thoughts about any women before and he absolutely despises it.

You're twentyone years old, way, way younger than the women he usual goes for. On top of it all you work for him, a fact which is usually more than enough for him to ban you from his mind, but here he is.

And as his eyes finally find your pretty figure, Jongseong can't comprehend the amount of annoyance and jealousy flooding his body as he watches the way you chuckle and giggle about whatever the fuck that guard's just said to you.

With his jaw tightly clenched and his hands balled into fists, the CEO tries his very best to calm himself down because there's absolutely no reason for him to react this way.

"I'm glad you're doing so well, pretty one", the guard says softly and slowly lifts his hand to graze your cheeks, sending another hot jolt of jealousy right into the pit of Jongseong's stomach, only for the way you're quickly moving away from his touch to suffocate the flames in one go.

"We're not together anymore, Chanie", you say and push a strand of hair behind your ear, "let's keep the distance that comes with, yeah?"

That's my girl.

The first thought to cross his mind is to claim you, when he hasn't even said a single word to you the past two hours.

At this point Jong feels like laughing at himself for his pathetic behavior.

"Oh, come on, Babe", the tall guard suddenly says and leaves you no room to escape as he cages you in with his hand against the wall, right next to your head, "we're still a dream team, why can't you see it?"

Jongseong carefully and attentively watches your reactions and besides the obvious discomfort, sudden anger grazes your face, a sight he hasn't seen before and can't help but feel intrigued by.

"I don't think one party of a 'dream team' could claim that title after cheating on the other", you spit back at him, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

So, turns out your previous boyfriend wasn't only a headache in bed but also a god damn cheater.

For a moment, Jongseong struggles to maintain his composure, the thought of all the pain and heartbreak you went through because that stupid fucker couldn't keep it in his pants simply makes his blood boil.

Despite your reaction, Changuk doesn't seem to be very fazed by it and with an awkward chuckle he just grabs your chin and pulls you closer to his body; his sudden use of strength surprising you to the point where you can barely push your hands against his chest to move away from his touch.

"I've always liked that mouth of yours", he casually replies and nudges his nose against yours and for a moment Jongseong's vision actually turns completely black, the fact that man dared to not only verbally disrespect you but also seems to give absolutely no fucks about your lack of consent leaves him absolutely flabbergasted.

"Back the fuck off, Changuk", you say and struggle to push your ex boyfriend away, forcefully turning your head to the side to escape his attempt of a kiss and as soon as he somehow finds his way back to reality, Jongseong's body acts on his anger before his brain can even give it a single thought.

With just a few steps, your boss appears right behind your ex boyfriend, his brows furrowed and nothing but deep anger lingering in the usually so empty brown of his eyes.

A little yelp escapes you in response to Park Jongseong harshly grabbing the back of Changuk's collar and forcefully pulling him away from you. You don't even get enough time to realise what's happening when Jongseong turns his back on you and gives his full attention to the security guard on the floor.

"M-Mr. Park?"

Because of your boss's height you can't really see your ex boyfriend's expression but just from the shaking of his voice you can tell how genuinely scared he is. As he should be.

It's been about time he finally learns what it means to back off when he's told to.

"If I see you bother her again I'm going to turn you into a plastic surgeon's biggest nightmare, got it? Take your things and get the fuck out of here. Don't bother talking to Mr. Lee about this, I'll do that for you in great detail. Now fuck off and pray to whoever you believe in that we don't run into each other anymore because I won't hold back the next time. Pathetic piece of shit."

You don't know, if it's the meaning behind his words, this particular choice of or just the fact that they have given you a sense of protection in a way you've never experienced it before but for some reason you feel your heartbeat slowing down and a wave of calmness overcoming your anxious system.

Jongseong doesn't say anything else, just waits for Changuk to get up and walk away before he finally turns around to face you and the softness and worry grazing his pretty features definitely surprises you.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" His voice is gentle, his eyes nervously roam your face to look for any kind of discomfort or pain and you hate how much you love the way he looks at you. It's like he'd do anything to keep you safe and protected, comfortable and at ease; something you've never felt with anyone before. And it really had to be with your boss, of all people.

"Yes", you whisper and finally meet his strong gaze, losing yourself in the sweet brown of his iris quicker than you woukd have ever expected, "I mean – Yes, Sir. Thank you so much for stepping in."

"Of course", Jongseong replies quickly, the urge to take your pretty face into his hands and just pull you into his chest taking every bit of oxygen out of his lungs.

"I'm sorry for causing you so much stress and discomfort tonight. It won't ever happen again, I promise. The girls and I are gonna leave now so you can also enjoy the night with your friends and girlfriend."

As the words leave your mouth, you feel a wave of shame and embarrassment hit you yet again; the thought of being the reason why your boss couldn't even enjoy his best friend's birthday like a troubled kid definitely makes you want to disappear forever, yet there's no point in overthinking it.

"Shiah isn't my girlfriend", is the first ghing he clarifies and for a moment you're simply confused as to why he felt the need to do that, "and you didn't cause me any discomfort or stress. I enjoyed tonight and your company really changed things up a bit. Don't be so mean to yourself, Y/N."

"Oh." You physically can't stop the sound from escaping your lips and with big eyes you look up at your boss, only then realising just how close he is.

You can't help but wonder how it might feel to be held by him. The question if his embrace feels even safer and more protective than his presence lingering in the back of your busy mind.

"Thank you, Sir", you whisper and finally get yourself to look away. Your heart not strong enough to lose itself in any more false hopes as it is your boss you're currently looking at.

"Good", Jongseong has to physically bite down ln his tongue to stop himself from crossing a line he's been so adamant about drawing between the two of you by adding a single word, and as he watches the slight shinmer of anticipation dying down in your eyes, he knows he did the right thing. No matter how much it hurts his heart.

The young CEO simply can't do anything which might give you the wrong message. He won't sleep with you and despite the disgusting need to give you verbal affirmation and make you feel good about yourself, it's never going to go past that.

And after so many years and meeting different kinds of women, Jongseong knows why you're looking at him like that. You want what he can absolutely give you, yet for the first time in his life he can't bear the thought of the possible outcomes.

"I'm gonna call my chauffeur so he can drop you off at home and please text me once you've arrived. I wanna make sure you're all safe."

Those are his last words before he finally forces himself to turn his back on you again, not realising that his lack of self control regarding you is going to be a bigger problem than he could have ever imagined.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: and here we are! different than the other two smaus this one started off pretty esrly with the written chap but i felt like it was needed to understand their thought process for the following chapters! i hope you guys enjoyed it and thank you so much for all the love and support, i love you so much 🥺 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!!!!🧸🤍)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @starlightmkl @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @soiimo @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @glitterssim @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

[ymiwritesstuff]

Not really smutty (though it could lead into it) but how about tav helping halsin brush and braid his hair? This man deserves to be pampered and have someone care for him as much as he does for everyone else

WOWOWOWOWOW I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! This was so much fun to write thank you Anon!! I hope this turned out the way you were hoping!! Halsin deserves all the pampering!!! Enjoy!

A Moment Together

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin x Tav!Reader

Summary: After a long day of hard work and battle, you and Halsin decide to spend the remaining hours of the day in each other's company during which you are eager to make sure he feels as relaxed as possible.

Notes: Fluff (so much that it's disgusting lol), hair brushing, no spoilers, just good vibes :)

“Alright, that should be enough.”

The heavy pieces of firewood you had spent almost the entirety of the day gathering fell on the ground with a loud thud, the positive exclamations of gratitude from the others soon following. It was always a rather tedious task, but it proved to be one of the most rewarding. No one could sleep or relax after a hard day in the coldness of the night unless you happened to have an infernal engine for a heart. Karlach was lucky in that aspect, you thought.

The sun still peaked through the thick trees of the forest, though it would not take long until it would retreat behind the horizon. Looking around the camp, everyone seemed just about ready to shed the weight and responsibilities of working to find a solution to your parasite issue and enjoy some much needed rest. The tents were put up, the bedrolls were set around the campfire and the heavy pieces of gear and armor were abandoned in favor of something more comfortable.

You ought to do the same soon.

However, your mind soon wandered when a certain druid entered your vision. A smile crept up to your lips. You were reminded of something you had said earlier in the day, a promise of a moment for just the two of you. Halsin was quick to relax his gaze as he looked over the camp and noticed how everyone seemed content. Should there have been an issue, he would have most likely been the first one to volunteer and offer his help, being the kindhearted druid he was. The thought only made you smile more.

As soon as his eyes found you, you were quick to point to the edge of the camp with a tilt of your head, your feet slowly carrying towards the direction. You were inviting him for a stroll, as you had discussed previously, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten, as he quickly followed you.

The camp slowly disappeared behind you and once it did, Halsin was quick to intertwine his large hand with yours, a gesture he often did when you shared a moment together. You were sure the rest of the camp was privy to the way you two shared glances, some of them were rather… perceptive, and secrecy wasn’t something either of you desired. Perhaps it merely felt more natural when there weren’t others present. Halsin certainly seemed more at ease like this.

“You seemed quite busy today,” you commented, remembering how you hadn’t seen him much all day. It was not terribly unusual, but to say you did not miss him would be a lie. He hummed.

“There was a shortage of potions and other healing items. So I made a longer journey to find a merchant.” You nodded as you listened, but also frowned your brows.

“We do have you and Shadowheart with us…” If you were honest, you were not sure why spend the effort to gather potions when your group consisted of more than one healer. Your thoughtful muttering reached his pointed ears and he was quick to let out a hearty chuckle.

“That may be so. But it does not hurt to be resourceful. We do journey separately at times, after all.”

“That’s true.”

You could not help but smile. Halsin had always been looking over everyone, making sure to offer his help whenever it may have been needed. His kindness was admirable, and in truth, it was needed during times like these.

You continued to walk by his side, his larger stature perfectly framed by the setting sun that continued to seep through the branches and leaves. To not look at him would have been a crime, so you allowed your eyes to wander, taking in his utter beauty as you walked. He had a small but fulfilled smile upon his lips, and his eyes idly looked around ever so slightly, marveling at the grace of nature.

The journey led you two to a gentle stream that flowed through the forest. The water was crystal clear and the warm colors of the sun were reflected on the calmly moving surface beautifully. You were sure this same stream spread into the vast lake just next to your camp. 

Giving glances at each other, the silent decision was made to rest here and unwind after yet another long day, maybe even fall asleep. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and Halsin always made sure to keep you warmer in ways a mere campfire never could.

You carefully sat down on the ground, Halsin keeping your hand in his until you were fully seated. He then laid down, placing his weary head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile that made your heart swell. The habit of his was incredibly endearing, there was just something about this druid, built like the most durable stone wall, gently lying beneath you at the mercy of your touch.

Smiling at him, your hands immediately went to his hair, pulling it back until all of it pooled in your lap. Tilting your head, you looked at his locks, noticing how they had some woodchips and tangles in them. Not a rare sight, quite natural, even. But you frowned, though playfully.

“Shall I brush it?” You asked, making sure to not pull on the knots with your fingers. A small chuckle left his lips.

“I have my doubts you’ll let me get up if I do not accept.” The sarcasm in his tone was obvious, it made you scoff jokingly.

“Of course not. What would the others think?” You sighed and groaned dramatically. “Imagine how horrified Astarion would be!”

Halsin laughed, that pleasant sound ringing in your ears long after he stopped. His laugh was contagious, so you briefly joined him, while reaching for your pocket and pulling out a comb. You looked down at him again.

“Well, what say you?” Your smirk was once again jesting, but his smile was genuine.

“Go right ahead, my heart.”

Smiling, you carefully began running the comb through his hair, noting how he let out a deep breath at the sensation. Brushing his hair had become somewhat of a regular activity, you did it for him every time you could. He enjoyed it. To be surrounded by nature and touched by you so attentively, he could not even begin to think about any better way to forget about the harshness of reality that affected everyone.

You had always thought that Halsin was far too considerate for his own good. He often put himself before others, especially with you. Though it was an incredibly valuable trait, it often left you wondering if anyone ever did anything for him. That’s why you helped him whenever you could, that’s why you held his hands and asked if he needed anything, that’s why you brushed his hair.

Halsin’s breathing was calm and paired with the gentle trickle of the stream as the sun slowly set, you felt like all the horrid things that happened around you did not exist, even if it was for a brief moment. 

His hair was mostly rid of its previous debris and the comb flowed through it effortlessly. You were more or less done but felt like something was missing. Placing the comb down, you ran your fingers through his locks, marveling at the length. His long hair was always open, flowing freely in the wind. As nature intended, you thought.

You took a brief look at him. His eyes were closed as if he was asleep, but you doubted this was the case. Regardless, he looked peaceful and you felt a wave of satisfaction hit you. It would be a lie to claim that it didn’t feel rewarding to see this druid, so concerned for everyone else and working tirelessly to ensure safety among everyone, at ease and utterly relaxed.

Gathering his hair into your hands, you sectioned it and began interweaving them. Halsin surely felt it, as his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. You had never done this before.

“Trust the process,” you said to which he gave a humorous hum. His hand rested on his abdomen and he took a deep breath, simply enjoying the way your fingers touched and gently tugged his brown hair.

As you reached the end of the braid, you looked for something to tie it with. You spotted a flower, white petals practically glowing in the moonlight. It had already been plucked from the ground, so you did not feel bad for reusing it for the greater good. You took a small piece from the base of the stem and used it to tie the end of the braid, to ensure that it would stay put.

You looked at your work and Halsin seemed to sense that you were done, as he slowly stood up, and turned to you. And as you looked at him, you could not stop the heat that spread across your cheek.

The loose braid rested upon his broad shoulder and his large frame was illuminated by the moon, giving him an almost otherworldly aura. His fingers brushed along the braid, there was some surprise in his expression, but it quickly melted away when he noticed how you looked at him.

“I suppose I can compete with Astarion now?” Halsin chuckled as he spoke to which you couldn’t contain a smile.

“Well, almost.” Your hand reached for the flower you had used to tie his hair with and you scooted closer to him, lifting yourself so your eyes were on the same level. Even when sitting down, he towered over you. Carefully, you brushed some of his hair that framed his face behind his ear, the flower following soon after. It came to rest against his ear, giving him a look that seemed to blow you away.

You retreated from him, grinning on the outside, but screaming and squealing inside at how incredibly beautiful he looked.

“Now I’d say you have a chance.”

Halsin pulled you to him as you both laughed, holding you close. He was warm, he always was. You pulled away to look at him, the affectionate sparkle in his hazel eyes warming your heart.

“Thank you, my heart. You… Do so much for me.”

If only he realized. This was nothing compared to what he did not only for you but for everyone. You smiled for what felt like the thousandth time and kissed him, keeping your hands on the sides of his face. The night had fallen, and all possible thoughts of returning to the others faded away. Tonight, you would sleep under the stars, dozing off to the soothing sounds of the stream with him next to you before repeating the grueling routine of the day all over again.

But it felt worth it. For moments like these, you’d do anything.

~

Feel free to support me on ko-fi!❤️

[peelingpaint-heavyheart]

i need an excuse to talk about kissing alhaitham on new year. it just makes me kick my feet and smile like an idiot

---

contrary to normal couples, you and alhaitham didn't go to a party or celebration on new year's eve. instead, you two stayed inside, cuddling on the couch as alhaitham read from his book and you watched a movie.

this was your ritual to stay awake every year, occupying your minds so that you could both make it to midnight to share that special new years kiss. although some years were unsuccessful (where you both fell asleep before midnight), you were determined to stay awake this year.

however, despite your determination and your boyfriends reluctant compliance to said determination, you can already feel your eyes dropping shut. it's only when the subtle rise and fall of his chest is disturbed, his weight shifting as he changes his position on the couch, do you snap back awake

"i'm awake!"

you hear alhaitham chuckle softly at your exclamation as the page turns.

"of course, darling, wide awake."

you pout at his teasing but you readjust your position against his body so your both comfortable again. you check your watch for the time, hoping midnight had drawn closer since you spaced out

"there's only five more minutes! we'll definitely make it this year."

you say smugly, looking up at alhaitham with a grin. he looks away from his book, closing it but holding his finger between the pages to keep his place.

"how about we just kiss now and go to bed? you're already nodding off"

"i'm not falling asleep!"

you insist stubbornly, sitting up from where you lay against alhaithams frame. you stare into his eyes, challenging his words with a defiant glint in your gaze. you have to stay awake now, if only to prove him wrong and be rewarded with the traditional kiss.

you can see his lips widen into a knowing smirk, like he's holding something against you that you're unaware of. and despite yourself, you can't help but find that expression of his quite attractive.

"whatever you say"

he opens his book again and resumes where he left off, a trace of arrogance lingering on his face. you roll your eyes and retake your spot next to alhaitham, focussing on the movie that was temporarily forgotten.

five silent minutes pass between you, interrupted by your watch beeping as the digits flash 12:00 AM. alhaitham finished a sentence before placing the book down completely, turning to you expectantly.

you were still awake, at this point fuelled solely by your will to prove alhaitham wrong. alhaitham watched you, waiting for you to initiate the kiss you had anticipated all night, yet all you did was turn off the beeping on your watch and stare at him.

"happy new year y/n"

alhaitham says quietly, eyes momentarily flickering to your lips before returning to meet your gaze.

"happy new year haitham"

there's a brief silence as alhaitham's distracted glances become more obvious, yet he doesn't make the first move. you notice how his brows furrow slightly and his lips quirk downwards, how his eyes narrow as he tries to figure out why you haven't kissed him.

"is this about earlier?"

he asks, his pout becoming more prominent. gods, he looked just adorable, you could pinch his cheeks and tease him for acting so cute, but you decide to save that for another time.

"what makes you think that?"

you reply, a poorly hidden smile blooming on your face.

"don't make me wait all night for a kiss just to act petty, darling"

"i'll act however i want, dearest. just admit that i was able to stay up all night."

the smile wins it's way onto your face, unable to be suppressed, and you feel all the more triumphant as alhaitham sighs in defeat, shaking his head at your antics.

"you were close to nodding off though-"

"that's not the same thing!"

you interject, laughing at how he tries to avoid compromising his earlier words.

"fine," he smiles affectionately, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "you were very awake the entire night."

"that's better," you say, your finger tilting his chin to you, his mouth toward yours.

"you're insufferable" he whispers

"yeah but you love it"

and you start the new year with a proper kiss, even if you were a few minutes late

---

happy new year :))

[somelokivariant]

Based off of this prompt

Merlin was back at work serving the King after nearly dying saving the kingdom. Just another average Tuesday.

Last night was fairly rough, Merlin arriving home after midnight with a rather pretty dagger sticking out of his abdomen. Gaius stitched him up and made him drink this very disgusting solution (God what was in there???). And after two little hours of sleep he was back serving this dingbat breakfast. Obviously he couldn't ask for a day off. What was he supposed to say, "Oh sorry Arthur, I found myself face to face with a fae cursing Camelot! I fought her with my magic but she threw a knife at me." Honestly he probably could say all that and Arthur would think Merlin spent too much at the tavern again. Merlin internally rolled his eyes. For now he was carrying on with work and Arthur's stupid comments like every other day.

He hobbled over to set the table for the king, his stomach burning. Merlin paid attention to not show it on his face.

"Why are you walking like that?"

"Like what?" He didn't pay attention to not show it in the rest of him.

"Like one of your legs is longer than the other."

"Oh, uh... I ran my hip into the table earlier"

Arthur just rolled his eyes and muttered to himself. Luckily Merlin was just clumsy enough for that to be entirely likely.

Merlin polished armour sitting down, and washed the laundry with magic. Unfortunately he couldn't find a way around Arthur's training. He could barely keep his coordination on a regular day, how on earth was he supposed to do this with stitches up his side. Stupid king training with his stupid muscles and sword. Merlin tried his best dueling Arthur while keeping his composure. He didn't want Arthur asking anymore questions, because honestly he was to beat to deflect them. Arthur swiped and Merlin dodged, a sharp burn going up his side. He felt like toppling over from the shock. Apparently that sludge solution from Gaius was not as effective as it was supposed to be.

Merlin almost audibly sighed relief when Arthur called for a break.

This was Arthur's break though, not Merlin's. "Go fetch cold water for his highness", he grunted under his breath as he made his way towards the castle. His stomach was still aching from that one-off swerve, he lifted his hand to hold some pressure in attempt to soothe the pain. Instead he just felt warm and wet. He paused to look down at the spot of blood that was slowly growing on his shirt. Merlin looked back at his hand dripping red, and staggered, finding the wall with his orher hand to support him. His vision started growing black spots and his ears rang. Merlin was only partly aware of the impact of his knees hitting the floor, and the pain in his side.

○○○○○

How long does it take to get some water? This dollop head probably got lost in his own damn castle.

Arthur rose from the field and started walking towards the kitchens. I have to do everything my self.

When he reached the castle he noticed a Merlin shaped lump half way down the hall.

"Fell asleep on a five minute walk?" He called out. The Merlin lump didn't move. As Arthur got closer he noticed the red on the floor surrounding Merlin. At this point he began to run.

Merlin was crumpled in a pool of blood. There was so much it took a minute for Arthur to find where it was coming from. He eventually recognized a few stitches in Merlins abdomen. Stitches? It wasn't a fresh wound.

Careful about the stress he was putting on Merlins body, he picked him up and ran as well as he could with a body in his arms - Merlin was actually quite heavy - towards Gaius's chambers.

He swung the door open with his foot, not bothering to knock.

Gaius turned around startled, but paused mid-exclamation when he saw Merlin limp in Arthur's arms.

"Set him down on this table here", he said while clearing scrolls and miscellaneous bowls.

Gaius lifted Merlins shirt and started dabbing around the cut with a rag.

"Get more rags from over there and start wiping down Merlin's stomach." Gaius got alcohol and thread. "His stitches came out. I told that boy he needed time to heal. Hold this. Pour here."

Arthur did exactly as he was told.

Arthur didn't know why his heart was racing so much. When this dollop head wakes up I'm going to kill him myself. Arthur sat back beat and stared at Meflin on the table.

Gaius finished cleaning Merlins blood and fixing his stitches.

"Arthur... Arthur?" Arthur looked up and Gaius came into focus. "I suggest you also go change out of your bloody clothes."

Arthur didn't want to leave Merlins side. He continued to sit exactly where he was.

Finally Merlins eyes opened, and he groaned as he propped himself up onto his elbows.

"Gods Arthur you look awf-"

Arthur leaped up and grabbed Merlins head, cutting him off with a very strong kiss. Merlin looked surprised. He gently put his arm around Arthur as Arthur buried his face in Merlins neckerchief.

After a moment Arthur pulled away and pointed a stern finger at Merlin. "NEVER do that again", he said in his commanding king voice. Merlin just stared. His king voice never worked on Merlin. "I mean, who will wash my drawers?"

Merlin aggressively rolled his eyes but Arthur recognized the hints of a smile.

@sonamysunivers @goddessofenergy @1asbrightasthestars3 @marvelqueenhere @faiirysecret @chloethebananana @m-nerd44

A/N: this is an unserious one shot rushed fic, OP also write an amazing one <3

Tag list

If ur mentioned its bc u asked to get tagged in op's post 👍

[defectivevillain]

took an axe and amended things

pairing: kratos x reader

reader’s pronouns: he/him 

[reader with they/them pronouns here!]

warnings: canon typical violence, blood and injury 

You’re venturing out in the forest when you come across a rather unusual sight: a young boy standing across from several Draugr. You initially think that your eyes are deceiving you. Even so, you move closer and realize that the kid seems to be in trouble. His only weapon is a bow and arrow; unfortunately, there are too many Draugr for the distance weapon to be of much use. You contemplate walking away for a long moment. Ultimately, you decide that you can’t leave him.

You take a deep breath and pull out your sword, lunging at the creatures closest to you. You manage to cut through a few of them. You’re preoccupied for a few moments, which causes you to lose focus and forget the boy. This mistake nearly costs you, as the kid lets out a chilling shriek. You immediately race over to him, shoving him aside. The Draugr that had been descending upon him lets out a strangled noise and plunges a clawed hand into your abdomen before you can react. A sharp burst of pain shoots through you and you quickly finish off the creature, before turning back to look at the boy. He looks mostly fine, save for a few scratches and scrapes. The kid stares at you with wide eyes, looking around for more Draugr before walking up to you.

“Thanks,” the boy says breathlessly, sending you a warm smile. The happiness quickly fades from his face when he sees the wound tearing through your abdomen. You try to muster up a calm expression, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. “Oh no…” The kid grimaces for a moment.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, stumbling forward as you try to take a step. Quick as lightning, the boy is standing at your side and steadying you. You can’t help but lean on him, despite knowing he’s a child who probably won’t be able to withstand your weight. Against all odds, though, the boy seems strong enough to support you. Before you can apologize and try to walk away, he slings your arm around his shoulder. The hand you’re pressing to your abdomen is slowly turning a dark crimson. The boy begins to walk forward and you have no choice but to clumsily follow.

“Our house is around here,” he remarks, leading you onwards. Your vision is blurring by the second, but you can make out a structure that looks like a house in the distance. Unfortunately, that distance seems rather large in your current condition. “Just hold on.”

The walk is long and painful. The cold air makes your chest burn and the wound on your abdomen isn’t getting better. You’re losing strength and gradually becoming dead weight for the kid to support. You idly wonder—through the painful haze you’re stuck in—what he’s doing out here by himself. Then again, he said our house, didn’t he? The boy evidently lives with someone else. Even so, should he have been all alone in the forest in the first place? You don’t think so.

Your thought process surrounding the boy only lasts a few moments, before it takes a backseat to the immense pain ripping through your body. Shadows creep across the corners of your vision. You stop in your tracks, grinding your heels into the snow to stop the boy from leading you onwards. Vertigo is hitting you out of nowhere, to the point where the ground seems to be spinning under your feet. You weakly grasp at the boy’s shoulder, but you can’t keep yourself standing. Before long, you’re crumpling to the ground. The kid lets out an exclamation and the world fades to a dizzying black.

You seem to waver between unconsciousness and wakefulness. There’s a loud thunk that breaks you out of your slumber, but you keep your eyes closed in the hopes that you’ll find rest again. Amidst the darkness, you can catch traces of conversation between the boy from earlier and another person.

“Boy, what did I tell you about strangers?” The voice you hear is deep and timbered; it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I know, Father, but-”

“A childish mistake. The moment you let your guard down to someone, they will swiftly destroy you.”

You eventually abandon the notion of rest and open your eyes to find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling; the torches hanging from them are the only source of light. For several seconds, you remain still and stare up at the ceiling. Your balance feels lopsided, despite the fact that you’re reclined on the floor. Before you can even begin to push yourself up, there’s a quick glint of metal as an axe presses up against your throat. You look up to find a huge man towering over you. He wears a stiff shoulder guard, leather forearm wraps, and a belt across his waist. His eyes are steely and there’s a malicious aura radiating off of him.

“Get out of my home,” the man orders, pressing the axe further against your neck. You can’t stop the hiss that crawls from your throat when the metal digs into your skin. “Now.” There’s nothing but hatred in the man’s brown eyes. You swallow hard and try to push yourself up to a sitting position, while avoiding the axe at your throat. The slight movement hurts far more than you expect and you let out a strangled breath.

“No!” The boy from earlier exclaims. You glance to your side, only to find him sitting next to you. He places a hand on your shoulder and you realize that his grip is surprisingly strong. Now that the boy is closer, you’re able to see that he has clear blue eyes. He’s even smaller up close. Just how old is this boy? You’re not sure you want to know.  “He needs rest.” You raise an eyebrow at the unexpected defense.

The man holding the axe glares at the boy, who stares right back. Admittedly, you’re impressed with the kid’s fearlessness—especially in the face of this brute in front of you, who’s holding a rather dangerous-looking axe. “Atreus.”

“Father, he saved me,” the boy—Atreus—interjects. At this, the man stills. His gaze falls to his son for a fraction of a moment, before he returns to glaring at you menacingly. “I was surrounded.” He continues. Your head is swimming and takes an immense amount of effort to focus on what he’s saying. “I tried to fight, but I was outnumbered… A Draugr got close and was about to strike me. This one was a lot faster than Draugr usually are, and I reacted too late… He pushed me out of the way and took the blow.”

The massive man is still staring at you with a scrutinizing gaze, evidently trying to find the fault in his son’s story. You grimace, half in pain and half in intense discomfort. For a few moments, there is nothing but silence. Then, the axe at your throat falls to the man’s side. You push yourself up to a sitting position and take a deep breath. Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t seem to be over, as the man’s axe is still in hand.

“Why did you save him?” The axe isn’t pressed up directly against your skin any longer, but it still hovers menacingly above your neck.

“He’s just a boy,” you murmur, struggling to make sense of your thoughts. “I don’t know; I didn’t really have time to think about it. It just… happened.” The man’s eye contact is intense, so much so that you have to avert your gaze after a few seconds. Whatever this man is looking for, he seems to find it in your expression.

“He can stay until he heals,” the man says, hardly sparing you a glance before turning to his son, “You will supervise him.” Atreus nods and immediately turns back to you. His father glares at you one more time, before turning his back and walking to one of the other rooms. You stare after him in disbelief.

“Sorry about Father,” Atreus sighs, drawing your attention back to him. He seems to be making some sort of ointment to apply to your wound. “He doesn’t like people very much.” You shake your head, trying to reassure the boy that it isn’t his fault and that you don’t mind. You are a stranger in their home, after all. “This is going to hurt.” Atreus presses the ointment to your abdomen and you inhale sharply. It burns for a few seconds, before cooling pleasantly.

Feeling a sudden heat, you look up to find Atreus’s father lurking a short distance away. He looms next to a wall, hiding him from his son’s view. The man crosses his arms over his chest and stares at you with a strange expression—which morphs into a murderous look once he realizes that you’re staring back.

“What’s wrong?” The boy asks from his place at your side. He’s looking at you expectantly and you tear your gaze away from his father, who slinks off into another area of the house and out of sight. You bite your lip. Despite Atreus’s curiosity, you can’t bring yourself to betray his father’s actions.

“Nothing.” You say with a shake of your head. Atreus finishes preparing the bandages and begins to wrap them around your abdomen. The boy’s bandaging seems to be a bit clumsy, but you can’t bear to feel anything but grateful for his help—especially when he stood up to his father for you. “Thanks for healing me.” You decide to voice your gratitude.

“It’s my fault you got hurt in the first place.” Atreus murmurs, just quietly enough that it takes you a  moment to realize you didn’t imagine the remark. You try to argue, but the boy has finished your bandages and he’s already walking away before you can entirely comprehend the statement. As much as you want to go after him, you’re essentially bound to the floor—your injuries are too grave for you to even try moving.

You fall asleep for a bit, until you’re woken by the eerie feeling of someone watching you. You dazedly blink your eyes open, only to have a mini heart attack when you see Atreus’s father looming over you. Is he here to kill you, now that Atreus isn’t present? You don’t get much time to wonder, before the man is speaking.  

“That boy…” You can hardly let out a protest before his father gets down on one knee and tugs at your bandages. You let out a weak protest, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He instead pulls off the bandages with an almost mechanical precision.

“I don’t even know your name, yet,” you joke weakly, trying to distract yourself from his proximity and the pain flaring up in your abdomen. As expected, the joke doesn’t register with the man. He looks annoyed at the mere suggestion.

“You have no need for it.” You stare at him. Your disbelief and mild irritation must show on your face, because the man looks back down at the bandages and steadily refuses to meet your eyes. For someone so intimidating, this guy seems to be almost… timid. Perhaps he’s just unaccustomed to social interaction. That would make a lot of sense, actually. His house is in the middle of the woods, deep enough that he likely doesn’t encounter many people. “Kratos.”

You raise an eyebrow and tell him your name, although you suspect that he doesn’t care what your name is. Sure enough, the man doesn’t even acknowledge your remark. His rather large hands are fiddling with the roll of bandages, and you’re almost tempted to help him out. You reach out, only for him to meet your eyes once more.

“If it weren’t for the boy…” The man’s eyes darken. He looks down to wrap the bandages around you. He tightens them a bit too fiercely, causing you to suck in a startled breath. Kratos looks up when he’s finished and levels you with a menacing glare. “I’d kill you where you stand.”

You gulp. His hands brush your skin for the briefest of moments, sending a wave of heat down your spine. It’s hard to focus when Kratos is so close to you. Thankfully, once he’s finished with the bandages, he gets to his feet and stares at you.

“For whatever reason, the boy has developed a liking for you,” Kratos states flatly. There’s an unconvinced look on his face, as if he can’t comprehend why his son even mildly tolerates you. You feel a little offended at that—are you really so insufferable to be around? “I expect you out of here the moment you’re fully healed.”

“Alright, thanks,” you answer, having half-expected a remark along those lines. The two of you are then locked in a pseudo-staring contest—as if you’re sizing each other up—for a few seconds before Kratos turns his back and walks away.

As you rest, your conversation with Kratos dominates your thoughts. Unfortunately, you don’t have much else to think about—your healing isn’t going as fast as you’d like. Time seems to drag on, especially when all you do is sleep or eat small meals. You’re amazed you’ve been given any food at all; although, you then realize that Atreus is likely hunting for you.

“I’m not who Father thinks I am,” Atreus remarks one morning, as he’s changing your bandages. He noticed his father’s adjustments and since then, he’s been fairly high strung. You remain silent and let him continue. “I’m strong, I’m smart. I’m capable.”

“You are,” you agree, happy to see the pink flush on the boy’s cheeks at the acknowledgement. Unfortunately, Atreus’s bashfulness doesn’t last long, as his eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a scowl.

“Then why doesn’t he see that?” Atreus exclaims. You put a finger to your lips to get him to lower his voice, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice the gesture. “I don’t understand! He always leaves, he never talks to me or teaches me. He doesn’t even want me!” The boy’s voice cracks and your heart breaks just a little more.

“Atreus…” You bite your lip, feeling an overwhelming sympathy overtake you. You feel like you’re listening in on something you shouldn’t, despite Atreus’s voluntary disclosure of information. “I don’t know your father, but I know that you’re wrong. He does want you; he loves you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Atreus whispers. He sounds so unsure that you feel your eyes begin to burn. Is his father’s approval really so foreign to him? It doesn’t take you long to choose what to say next.

“Because I’m still here,” you answer. You hadn’t intended to tell Atreus about his father’s threats, but now, you think they’ll serve as evidence to your claims. “He’s keeping me here because you asked him to. If you hadn’t, I’d be dead right now.”

“That’s not true,” Atreus fires back.

“He told me as much,” you admit. Atreus’s lips part and he stares at you in disbelief. You take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again. “Anyway. Your father doesn’t seem like the type to use his words, but… his actions couldn’t be more transparent.” Atreus is silent at that. You frown, wishing there were some way to convince him. An idea passes through your mind and you decide to speak your thoughts. “I know I’m not your father, but-” you break off, “I am proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Atreus huffs, his ears turning red. You give in to the urge to ruffle his hair and he scowls dramatically, turning his attention to your bandages. You allow him to escape the conversation and the two of you soon change topics and talk about innocuous things. Eventually, Atreus leaves to hunt and you’re alone again.

You find yourself alone in the house rather frequently. You can’t bring yourself to be irritated with it—after all, you’re pretty much an uninvited house guest. Furthermore, it appears as if your wound is healing rather well… It should take only a few more days of rest before you’re ready to go home. A small part of you wonders if this cabin could be your home, if this father and son could be your family. You quickly disregard the concept.

Somehow, you manage to heal faster than you expect. Within a few days, you’re up and walking again. Almost the moment that you realize you can walk, you head towards the door. Kratos’s threats from earlier are living in your mind. I expect you out of here the moment you’re fully healed. You press your palm flat against the door and push, only for a voice to interrupt your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” You turn around, dread coiling in your chest as you find Kratos standing in the space you had previously occupied. He’s regarding you with wariness and skepticism. You frown at that, unable to dissuade your own confusion.

“Um… home?” If it weren’t for the boy, I’d kill you where you stand. You gulp. You had hoped to avoid an awkward confrontation—or even a fight— by slipping out of the house undetected. That was wishful thinking, apparently. For the next few moments, you’re frozen in the doorway as Kratos stares at you with a scrutinizing gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s nothing but frustration written in the lines of his tense shoulders.

“The boy likes you,” Kratos eventually says, breaking through the strained silence. Tension settles in the air. You’re admittedly not fully recovered, and your balance is a bit testy. You place a hand on the wall in a casual gesture, pretending that you don’t need the stability. Kratos seems to recognize what you’re doing regardless, as he reaches out. You resist the urge to flinch. His hand rests on your shoulder and there’s a strange look on his face. “Stay.”

You stay—not that your decision has anything to do with the relieved expression on Kratos’s face when you step away from the front door. That doesn’t run through your mind at all. You make your way past Kratos and sit down on the floor once more.

When Atreus returns home that day, he launches himself at you and hugs you before you can object. You smile and wrap your arms around him in return. The boy doesn’t seem keen to let you go any time soon. You look over Atreus’s shoulder, only to accidentally lock eyes with Kratos. His fists are clenched at his sides and he quickly turns away. Your chest burns as you return your attention to Atreus, pretending not to have noticed his father gazing at the boy with a remorseful expression.

When the two of you break apart, Atreus stares at you expectantly. You turn your head to the side in an attempt to avoid his gaze, but the movement draws a pained hiss from your lips. You grimace as pain flares up your back. You don’t think you’re quite subtle enough, because Atreus’s eyebrows furrow.

“Your back hurts,” the boy realizes aloud. Damn it, why is this boy so observant? You bite your lip and remain silent, not wanting to further incriminate yourself. Atreus seems to have his mind made up, however, as he looks at you. “Haven’t you been sleeping on the floor? That’s probably why. You should tell Father.”

“No thanks,” you say with a shake of your head. Your conversations with Kratos are awkward enough on their own. The last thing you want is to bring up your discomfort, especially when he and his son have been so kind as to let you reside here. “Besides, there isn’t another bed for me to sleep in or anything.”

Atreus stares at you with a rather complex gleam in his eyes. His mischievous expression throws you off, and you get the feeling that you should be nervous. “Father likes you, you know,” the boy remarks. You blink once, twice—convinced that you misheard him. Once you process the statement, you look at him in confusion.

“There’s something about you,” Atreus continues, “He doesn’t hate you as much as he hates everyone else.” You want to laugh, but the sentiment seems to strike true—Kratos clearly dislikes people. The portion of Atreus’s statement concerning his lessened hatred for you is definitely untrue, though. Instead of arguing, you keep quiet and let Atreus continue speaking. “Ever since Mother died, he hasn’t been quite the same. But he’s better, now that you’re around.”

“You think so?”

Atreus nods silently. You don’t know what to say; Atreus seems similarly lost for words. “It’s healing nicely,” he says, nodding at your wound. You look down at the warped scar tearing through your skin. That scar is probably going to be permanent, you realize with resignation. Atreus doesn’t elaborate on his previous remark and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

The next day, the strange interaction with Atreus falls to the back of your mind, as you begin to busy yourself with attempts at full recovery. You slowly begin to start walking around again, and before long, you’re able to walk around the house with relative ease. One day, you even walk outside to get some fresh air. You don’t realize how much you needed the sunshine, until you feel a smile breaking out on your face. The midmorning rendezvous gives you a bit more energy.

For a few days after your attempt at departure, you don’t see Kratos at all. You almost want to think that he’s avoiding you, but you recognize that notion to be rather self-centered. He’s probably just busy. You decide to remain patient. Your patience does eventually pay off, because Kratos ambles into the room you’re occupying and stops to stand next to you. You send him a small smile, which he doesn’t return. Silence dominates the air for a few more moments, before Kratos speaks.

“The boy says-”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to call him by his name once in a while,” you interject. Kratos glares at you and you glare right back for a few moments, until you eventually get sick of the charade. The man raises an eyebrow, as if to ask: Are you done? You roll your eyes in response.

“The boy says your back has been hurting.” Kratos finishes, a note of something unreadable in his voice. You don’t dare to analyze the emotion beneath that remark.

“He’s too observant, sometimes,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You quickly feel the need to defend yourself. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Kratos snaps. He looks askance and it almost feels as if he’s trying to pretend you aren’t in front of him. Despite the rather harsh statement, though, his eyebrows are furrowed and he seems more irritated than usual. “You’ll sleep in my room tonight.” A million thoughts run through your head all at once. What does that statement mean, exactly? Surely, he means you’ll sleep on the floor of his room. Perhaps there’s a plush carpet. Honestly, you’ll take anything over the hardwood flooring of the main cabin area.

“Okay.” You murmur, once you realize that Kratos is waiting for a response. His lips are pulled taut and he stares at you for a moment longer before walking away. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Thankfully, it’s only midmorning. You have the rest of the day to put the thought off.

Unfortunately, the day passes unusually fast. Before long, it’s beginning to get dark. Kratos doesn’t seem to be around, but his words from earlier still echo in your ears. For a moment, you contemplate sleeping on the floor in the main room again. You quickly dismiss the notion when you see Atreus pouting at you. Rolling your eyes, you allow him to tug you by the arm until you’re standing in Kratos’s room.

There’s only one bed. Thankfully, Atreus leaves and doesn’t insist on anything stupid—like sharing the bed with his father. You’re sure that you’d wake up to an axe pointed at your throat, and you’d rather not have a repeat of your first meeting. There is a fluffy carpet in the corner of the room and you shrug, before lowering yourself down to the ground and curling up on your side. It’s far from comfortable, but you’re so tired that you can’t find the energy to care. Before you can muse about your unconventional sleeping arrangements any longer, you’re drifting off into sleep.

Your sleep is rough for a little while. You hear bits and pieces of noise, but you’re never fully torn from slumber. Then, out of nowhere, you’re jostled and you slip into a weird void between slumber and wakefulness. You vaguely register an arm under your knees and another supporting your upper back. Suddenly, there’s plush material beneath you and you can’t stop the miniscule exhale that leaves your lips at the feeling. You swear you hear a huff of amusement, but you’re far too exhausted to ponder it.

You wake hours later feeling remarkably refreshed. It’s the first time since you resided here that you were actually able to rest. You push yourself up slowly, taking a moment to survey your surroundings. It appears that you’re in Kratos’s room. Wait. You’re not on the floor… You’re on his bed. You quickly throw the blanket off of you and try not to panic. He can’t kill you if he doesn’t notice—

“You were on the floor.” Fuck. You look up, only to find Kratos hovering in the doorway. He stares down at you expectantly.

“Well, yeah,” you frown, pushing yourself off the bed to stand across from him. “Where else was I supposed to go?” Kratos has a rather disbelieving expression on his face as he regards you. His lips part and he’s about to say something when there’s a loud rapping sound. The man whips around and stalks out into the main room. You follow at his heels, secretly grateful for the interruption. You weren’t quite looking forward to the awkward conversation surrounding how you ended up sleeping in his bed last night.

“What was that?” Atreus asks, emerging from one of the other rooms. You put a finger over your lips and then turn to Kratos, who is glaring at the front door hard enough to set it aflame with his gaze alone. The three of you are entirely silent as you wait to hear the sound again. About a minute passes and you’re about to relax when there’s another harsh noise; it sounds like someone is knocking on the door. Kratos turns around and stares at you determinedly.

“Watch the boy.” He demands.

“But-” You try to say, beginning to sense what is going on. Evidently, this visitor isn’t coming for a housewarming party.  Whoever it is, they must be an enemy—if the vicious expression on Kratos’s face is anything to go by.

“Go.” Kratos snarls. Your heart is racing but you decide to obey him. Atreus seems like he wants to fight, but you place a hand on his shoulder. He sighs and walks a few steps until he’s standing in front of a pile of cushions and blankets. Atreus pushes them to the side, which reveals a sort of trapdoor mechanism. The boy tugs at it before lowering himself down into it. You take one final glance at Kratos, before following Atreus into the makeshift cellar. The moment you’re with Atreus, Kratos closes the trapdoor and Atreus and you are left in pitch-black darkness.

“Will he be okay?” Atreus voices. Within a few seconds of that question, you both hear a rumbling sound and raised voices. You can’t quite see Atreus, but you can hear his leg bouncing restlessly.

“Of course,” you murmur quietly. You’re sure he’ll be fine and you try to bring that conviction into your voice to combat Atreus’s nerves. The boy stares at you for a moment, before practically throwing himself into your arms. You embrace him hesitantly at first. As the two of you continue to wait with bated breath, you bring your hand up to the back of the boy’s head and cradle him close. He’s far too young to be going through all of this, you think to yourself.

You hear a loud crash and hastily put your hands over Atreus’s ears. He whimpers and you close your eyes, trying not to flinch as you hear inexplicable noises from above. A part of you wants to peek out from the trapdoor and see what’s going on, but you promised Kratos that you’d protect Atreus. Knowing that, you hold him close to your chest and try to wait for the end of the crashing noises.

Ironically, after all of that ruckus, there is… nothing. You have no idea how much time passes after those sounds. Your ears are buzzing and you anxiously await any sort of noise. After an immeasurable amount of time, you hear footsteps from above. Atreus clenches your shirt in a tight grip and you pull him closer. The trapdoor creaks open ominously, and you instinctively turn your back to protect Atreus. A few seconds pass, and nothing happens. You warily turn your head, only to find Kratos looming over the trapdoor. You let out a sigh of relief and relax your hold on Atreus, who peeks out from your shoulder and looks up at him.

“Father!” Atreus exclaims, relief evident in his voice. He steps up on the chest nearby and Kratos hoists him up.

“Atreus,” Kratos responds, staring down at his son. The boy launches himself into Kratos’s arms, murmuring things that you pretend not to hear. You smile at the sight, despite feeling a bit out of place; you vaguely feel as if you’re not supposed to be witnessing this rather intimate and private moment. After a few moments, Atreus releases his hold on his father and you accidentally lock eyes with Kratos over the boy’s head. There’s blood splattered all over the man’s face but he appears to be fine.  Atreus moves away and Kratos extends his arm to you. You don’t hesitate to take his proffered hand, allowing him to loftily pull you up from the cellar. His grip remains, even as Atreus pulls the cushions and blankets over the cellar. In fact, Kratos’s hand rises from your hand to grasp your forearm.

“You alright?” You ask. Kratos answers with a huff that you’ve grown to associate with amusement. There’s something lingering on his shoulder and you move to brush it off. Kratos stiffens and freezes, a guarded expression rising on his face. Despite his evident wariness, he doesn’t push you away. You brush the debris off his shoulder and quickly explain. “Sorry. You had, um, some dirt.”

“You looked after the boy,” Kratos says, apropos of nothing. You blink at him for a second.

“Of course,” you respond. You glance over at Atreus, who appears to be doing something in one of the other rooms. He’s too far away to hear your conversation, but your voice comes out like a whisper anyway. “I care about him. And… you asked me to.”

There’s a vulnerability in Kratos’s expression—a sentiment you’ve never seen from him. His eyes are wide and shining with emotion. You’re almost convinced that you’re seeing things. Despite the uncharacteristically expressive look on his face, he doesn’t speak for a few minutes. “You were prepared to die for him.” Kratos’s eyes fall to the pile of cushions over the trapdoor, evidently referencing how he found the two of you. You had instinctually shielded Atreus.

“I mean, don’t give me too much credit; it’s what anyone would have done.” You ramble, feeling strangely off-kilter with Kratos standing so close to you. His eyes have yet to leave your face and his gaze demands your attention. You stare at him and he stares at you. Kratos reaches out and cradles your jaw. He swipes at your cheek with his thumb and you freeze in surprise.

“When you were about to leave,” Kratos begins, his hand falling from your face and down to the crook of your neck. His lips part as if to continue speaking, but no words come out.

“You don’t have to explain,” you say, noticing that his shoulders are tight and his posture has recovered some tension. Kratos has an utterly tortured expression on his face and you feel immensely guilty for provoking that feeling in him. “Seriously, it’s fine-” You try to say, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue.

“You knew how to handle the boy,” the man continues. “I was envious at first. I… never had that kind of relationship with my father, and it affected my own relationship with the boy. When you appeared, I thought you would take him from me.” It appears as if speaking so much is actively harming Kratos, as he winces and stiffens with every word. He looks profoundly uncomfortable and determined at the same time. You remain silent, despite the conflicting feelings roaring in your heart.

“You understand the boy, in a way I have never been able to. I couldn’t bear to hate you, not when you gave Atreus his joy back. He hadn’t smiled since his mother died.” That, you hadn’t known. Suddenly, your throat burns as you remember the smiles Atreus has given you. “I have failed Atreus again and again, yet I tried to rob him of the one person that truly understood him… because that person was not me. What kind of father am I, for envying what you have with him?”

“A normal one, I think,” you answer honestly. “Kratos,” you break off, reaching out to him. Kratos grabs your wrist before you can reach him, a resigned expression on his face. He’s beginning to bury his emotions again. The light is slowly draining from his eyes. It feels as if he’s slowly slipping away from you.  

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Kratos says quietly. Your eyes catch on the bloodstains on his face and you begin to realize what he’s alluding to. Everything begins to make an absurd amount of sense: the giant axe, the ease with which he handled the unknown intruder, the entirely unaffected expression on his face as he ordered Atreus and you to hide.

“I don’t,” you acquiesce. Kratos’s hand is still on your wrist, but you manage to move your arm and clasp his forearm in return. “But that doesn’t matter—none of that matters. What matters is that you’re trying.” You take a deep breath. “Atreus needs you… and I do, too.”

Your eyes lock again and you realize that Kratos’s eyes are rather glassy. Is he crying? No, you must be seeing things. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but before you can speak, Kratos is tugging you towards him. You go along with the sudden momentum and, in the blink of an eye, he’s kissing you.

The gesture feels far too short, as a voice grounds you back to reality. “Finally.” You freeze and regretfully break away from Kratos, only to find Atreus staring at the two of you from his position in the far doorway. You feel extremely mortified and you try to salvage the situation by removing your hands from Kratos’s shoulders, but you fear it’s already too late.

“Boy…” Kratos trails off, evidently lost for words. Despite the fact that you’ve been found out, the man still hasn’t removed his hands from your waist.

“What?” Atreus asks innocently, a rather mischievous smile on his face. You sigh fondly at him, before beckoning him closer. The boy runs over and throws an arm around you, before doing the same with his father. Kratos looks startled for a moment, before he brings Atreus closer with his free hand. You smile to yourself as you’re surrounded by Kratos and Atreus—your newfound family.

[effeminateboyninja]

WAGER

3.2k | Toge Inumaki x gn!reader

S Y N O P S I S : You and Toge have been dancing around what everyone else already knows to be true, when finally a bet between friends brings it all to the forefront.

C O N T E N T : friends to lovers, fluff, brief mention of alcohol

A / N : loosely inspired by a song from OKLAHOMA! of all things. anyway it’s my first fic in a long time i hope u enjoy ! mwah!!

You rush down the sidewalk past buildings that flew by in a blur, feet tapping against the stone in a rapid procession that matched that of your thoughts.

Rarely, if ever, was there notable gossip within your group of friends. Sorcerers all, the daily tribulations of your shared profession usually stole the attention that might be reserved for petty speculation enjoyed by more typical individuals of your age group. Rarer still, were you the subject of such gossip. That novelty, and the eager sense to immediately share the news is what propelled you now at such a frantic pace towards the courtyard where a familiar figure was waiting. Toge — the white shock of his platinum hair coming into view first as you round the corner to approach him where he sat. Dutifully obeying your instructions to meet you there, texted to him just a few minutes earlier.

His eyes light up as soon as you come into view, widening when it’s clear that your rapid advance doesn’t seem to be slowing. You reach the bench where he’s sitting and barely manage to skid to a stop, the momentum of your actions toppling you down beside him with an exasperated sigh.

“Kelp.” He chuckles, amused by your dramatic arrival.

You give him a quick obligatory, “Hey, Tog,” as your hand reaches out in a well-practiced motion for the zipper on his collar, pulling it down below his chin so you could see his mouth and the marks on either side of it.

“You wouldn’t believe what I just heard!” the exclamation comes just as soon as the afterthought of a greeting leaves your mouth.

He looks back inquisitively and you continue without missing a beat. “So I overheard Yuji and Nobara talking...”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles and he types something on his phone: “You were eavesdropping…”

“Okay fine, I was eavesdropping!” You relent, “But that’s not the point! The point is — they have a bet… About us!”

You pause dramatically, waiting for an appropriately scandalized response and when none comes you continue, only slightly deterred. “More specifically, the bet is about whether or not we’ll start dating. Us.” You huff, “Can you believe that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, his tone level and his expression unphased. “Salmon.”

“Right?! That’s what I said. Like why would-“ His response finally registers in your mind and you do a double-take. “Wait, what do you mean?!”

He pulls up the notes app on his phone again and his thumbs dance across the screen before turning it so you can read the message he’s typed.

“well I mean maybe if you didn’t flirt with me so much… 🤷‍♂️”

You scoff and raise your eyebrows skeptically. “Oh, I’m the one who flirts? Please. That’s all you.”

He furrows his brow slightly and tilts his head to the side.

“Oh don’t play dumb with me. You practically act like my boyfriend.”

“Bonito flakes.” He protests, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

The truth is Yuji and Nobara’s bet is not unfounded — not in the slightest. The two of you have been playing this game for far too long for your younger friends’ nearly nonexistent patience. But Toge loves it. He revels in the fact that your friendship with him teeters on the edge on something more and cherishes every little slip up that shows it.

“Whatever, liar.” You smile and shake your head. “We need to set some ground rules.”

He raises his eyebrows curiously.

“Ground rules, you know? A list of things you need to stop doing so people will stop thinking we’re a couple.”

He smirks, the cursed symbol on his cheek twitching upwards.

“I’m serious!” You reach and arm out to give him a playful shove, but he dodges it expertly. His smirk only grows, earning him an eye roll.

“First of all,” you start, ignoring his smug expression, “you’re way too good with my parents. You’ve got to stop impressing them so much or my mom will never stop calling you her future son-in-law.”

He scoffs, hastily typing up his rebuttal.

“are you actually complaining that your parents like me rn?? my bad, let me just make them hate me 💀”

You groan, “You know what I mean! You brought my mom flowers that one time, like c’mon.”

He smiles, remembering the occasion last year. It was your mother’s birthday and he knew that you’d be spending the day with her, which meant he wouldn’t be able to. He needed an excuse to at least see you for a few minutes — and so the white-haired sorcerer dropped by a flower shop and made his way down the familiar route to your house with a small arrangement of carnations and daisies. She’d loved them of course, and insisted he join the two of you for lunch. Mission accomplished.

He sighs dramatically, but relents “fine, no flowers for your mom… she’ll be devastated tho”

His add-on at the end makes you chuckle. “I’m sure she’ll survive.” You assure him.

“anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you respond to his newest note and sit up a bit straighter, putting on a playful air of haughtiness. “Don’t laugh so much at my jokes. I know I’m devastatingly funny, so that might be a challenge, but it gives people the wrong idea I think.”

His thumbs are tapping his phone screen before you can even finish your last sentence. “Who laughs at your jokes? 🤔”

The quip earns him another shove. One that lands this time because he’s too busy laughing at your shocked and offended expression to dodge it. Toge’s laugh is a soft, bubbling sound that in spite of your last statement, you could listen to a million times and it would never be enough.

He catches his breath and straightens up a bit then points to himself, an ever present ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “My turn” he mouths.

That’s only fair, you think. So you nod, encouraging him to elaborate. He crosses his arms into an “X” in front of his chest — no more — then he points to your eyes with his index and middle finger, then points to himself.

You stare at him puzzled for a moment. “I’m not allowed to look at you?” You ask incredulously.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, mouthing. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” You laugh.

“Like this,” his lips move silently once more and he reaches out his hand, cupping your cheek to hold your gaze, his lavender eyes locked with yours, sparkling mischievously like he’s got a secret he’s about to share with only you. There’s a beat of silence. And you have to work to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him. He just looks so pretty. Had his lips always looked so soft? So perfectly paired for your own…?

“Alright fine,” you exhale, shaking yourself from your reverie and grasping for an excuse to turn away from his touch. When his hand falls away from your face and you can breathe normally again, you speak once more. “The notes then. You’ll have to stop collecting them.”

You’re referring to the scraps of paper the two of you use to communicate when his riceball ingredients aren’t enough and he’s too lazy to pull out his phone. The ones he refuses to throw out, opting instead to fold them into his pocket and place them neatly into a shoebox under his bed later for safekeeping. They might just be random bits of paper, small snippets of past conversations with no context, but he doesn’t need any. He can recognize if you were happy, excited, sad or angry when you wrote each one by just the subtle changes in your handwriting. Keeping those notes is important to him; each one of them a memory that he has of you, and has no intention of kicking the habit any time soon.

This is one rule he won’t entertain. He shakes his head defiantly and furrows his brows. “Bonito flakes.”

There’s a sense of relief at his refusal as you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. This habit of his was one that had always made you feel important to him in a way that separated you from all his other friends, and it reassured the tamed and quiet part of you that hoped this familiar game would someday come to an end in your favour to see he didn’t want to relinquish it.

“Alright, I suppose you can keep the notes,” you say, and he beams, relieved by the knowledge that you enjoy his more sentimental tendencies.

Relieved too, that you clearly didn’t understand his one and only ground rule, because there you are again looking at him with that magnetic gaze that makes his heart melt.

You’re so focused on him that you don’t notice the phone he’s holding up for you at first, and he has to wave it slightly to get your attention.

“is it really so bad though?”

“What do you mean?”

“is it so bad that people think we’d make a good couple?”

No.

Your inner voice answers before you even have time to process that he’s asking you this — Toge, who’s occasional flirting you entertained, sure, but who you had convinced yourself long ago was off limits. Only allowing yourself a little self-indulgence once in a blue moon, wondering about what it might be like to take the plunge and turn your friendship to something more. A subtle touch every now and then, lasting just a bit too long. A moment of absentminded closeness, eyes flitting to lips before embarrassment comes blundering back in, followed by a blush and flustered change of subject. Those things were more than enough for what you had long ago accepted as just a silly and wholly unserious crush on your closest friend. It wouldn’t be right to risk all the trust and comfort the two of you had built as friends for just a chance at knowing what it would be like to call him yours. But here he was asking — what would be so wrong if you did?

Or was he? The doubt creeps in to cloud the excitement just as quickly as you’d let yourself believe he might return your feelings, and you begin convincing yourself that it’s just too good to be true.

Toge can see the gears in your head turning, the adorable and familiar way your features twist in concentration when you’re thinking really hard about something. He imagines reaching out his thumb to brush away the lines that have formed between your eyebrows as you furrow them at him, trailing it down to trace your lips and bring it back to touch his own — an inadvertent kiss.

But he doesn’t. Now, he needs to know your answer.

Your response finally comes as a tentative murmur, purposefully vague and noncommittal in an effort to suss out whether he’s being genuine or just teasing. “I guess not…”

His face falls just slightly. “you guess?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know..” You huff, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “What do you think?”

“i don’t mind at all.”

Your eyes race over the words a few times, just to be sure, then flick up to his face searching for any break in his level expression to indicate he was kidding around. But there’s nothing. Not even an echo of the smirk he wore earlier. An answer eludes you and you can only purse your lips and stare at him, desperately trying to figure out how you’re supposed to respond.

That’s when the young sorcerer rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, his patience finally being worn thin. The game had been fun he thinks, but your obliviousness was getting downright painful at this point. If he has to spell it out for you then so be it.

He looks you in the eyes, his expression as serious as it’s ever been on his most important mission and takes hold of your hands in his. They give a gentle squeeze, urging you to pay attention. Then, he points his index finger to himself, makes a heart with his hands, and points to you. Repeats twice more for good measure, and looks at you with a gaze he hopes says I’ve loved you since I met you, you are so, SO precious to me.

There, he thinks, there’s no explaining it away this time; there’s little room for interpretation in those movements.

Your face morphs with the motions of tentative understanding, a curious disbelief present in your expression. You could imagine his voice, the sound of it dutifully committed to memory despite its infrequency — saying the words along with each movement: I. love. you. I love you. I love you.

“Don’t mess with me Toge,” the last vestiges of your hesitation voice themselves, stern despite the giddy excitement that sent your stomach fluttering, “flirting is one thing but this is entirely different, it’s cruel.”

My god, the cursed speech user thinks to himself. You’re certainly not making this easy on him, a fact he supposes is only fair considering how long he’s let this go on. He shakes his head, a baffled smile playing across his lips. Well, that only leaves one option.

“I love you.”

This time, the sound of his voice is not imagined. He doesn’t imbue any cursed energy into the words but the air around you two still seems to tingle with a latent electricity in their wake. You shoot him a shocked look, eyes wide as saucers as your mouth opens to chastise him. But Toge is quick — and somewhat impatient after all this time — leaning in before your accusation can be fully voiced to cut it short with a long overdue kiss. Your admonitions are forgotten completely the moment his lips meet yours, mind consumed with the feeling of it, with him.

It’s a soft thing, your lips moving gently together for only a few precious seconds that still manage to send your head spinning. When you retreat slightly, forehead resting on his own, he grins wildly before pulling you back in for another, deeper embrace that brings his hands to either side of your face and presses yours eagerly against his chest.

Minds rushing with the thrill of it all you both stay there for the better portion of the evening, making up for the lost time. Lips on swollen lips, hands in tangled hair, just kissing, kissing, kissing…

***

A few days later, you and Toge are at Yuji and Megumi’s apartment to gather with all your friends for the first time since the two of you made it official.

The group chat went absolutely wild when Toge announced your status as a couple by casually sending a picture he’d taken of your arms wrapped around him and face buried in his neck — and after a barrage of excited texts, decided that you all needed to get together to celebrate.

“Finally!” Yuji exclaims loudly as soon as you walk through the door, wrapping both you and Toge into a tight bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground. “I knew it! I totally called it. Did I not call it?”

“Hardly impressive on your part,” his roommate chimed in from behind him where he stood with his hands in his pockets. “We all knew it was going to happen eventually.”

Fushiguro nudged around his loud, enthusiastic friend to greet the two of you with handshakes and quick ‘good to see you’s before retreating to the kitchen to get drinks for his guests.

“I called it.” Yuji insisted. Then, “come!” He waved you both towards where everyone was gathered and joined them. Maki and Nobara were wedged on the couch, sharing the one remaining cushion not occupied by Panda’s hulking form. And Yuta, smiling proudly at the two of you like he especially had known the inevitability of this pairing, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

You and Toge exchange greetings with the others, join Yuta on the floor, and fall into easy conversation with the group who had only grown closer in the years since graduation. Toge’s arm wraps around you instinctively, pulling you close to him. He’s so caught up in the boastful satisfaction of the action he hardly notices when Fushiguro returns passing out drinks. You take his drink for him along with your own, offer an apologetic smile for your raven-haired friend that is met with an understanding smirk and shake of his spiky head.

Hours pass, drinks are downed and conversation gets louder and more interspersed with raucous laughter.

“So which one of you started that bet anyway?” You ask eventually, playful and curious. “And which ones of you bet against us, huh?” You cross your arms over your chest and look at the group, narrowing your eyes in faux suspicion as you examine them. It’s this action that stops you from noticing the way your boyfriend straightens, sharing a look with his best friend across the coffee table. One that contains the guilty awareness of a schoolboy about to be caught in his mischief. Yuta stifles a laugh.

The rest of them exchange confused looks, then looks of understanding, before joining Yuta in suppressed amusement.

“You haven’t told them yet?” Maki directs her incredulous question at Toge, and scattered snickers and gasps follow from the rest of them. You watch him intently for his response. Which, is at moment, only a sheepish grin and deep blush of his cheeks.

Just like the night that he kissed you for first time and told you he loved you, this time slightly dulled by the drink, the gears in your mind start to turn and you start putting it all together. Then it clicks.

“Oh my- I’m so dumb.” You chastise yourself for the delayed understanding and Nobara bursts out laughing. Grabbing her stomach and falling back dramatically against her girlfriend who only halfheartedly rolls her eyes before joining in with a chuckle of her own. Of course Toge had been the one to start the bet. Which was in truth less a wager on whether or not the two of you would get together, but how quickly. Of course he knew Yuji and Nobara wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, eventually making it known to you.

You turned on him then with a knowing smirk and leaned towards him, “Were you planning on telling me, hmm?”

He shrugged, blushing more furiously now as your face neared his.

“Well,” you say, now just inches away from him, “I’m glad you did it either way.” You close the last of the small distance and catch his lips in a kiss. He kisses you back, and the way it sets his heart racing is enough to distract him from the teasing hooting of your friends who are most definitely not going to let him live down either this display of public affection, or his part in the bet that started all this. Which is just as well to him. He’d been playing the long game after all, and the outcome was exactly as rewarding as he’d hoped.

[so-many-ocs]

a guide to formatting dialogue (it's harder than you'd think!)

a request from instagram that i'm posting here. buckle up, because this is a long one!

if a spoken sentence ends in a period, don’t use a dialogue tag. either replace the period with a comma or replace the dialogue tag with a separate sentence indicating a related action or description.

incorrect: “I need to go.” he said.

even more incorrect: “I need to go.” He said.

correct: “I need to go,” he said. or “I need to go.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

this rule does not apply to other types of punctuation such as question marks or exclamation points.

leave the dialogue tag lowercase, no matter what. (proper nouns remain capitalized)

incorrect: “When are we leaving?” She asked. ("She asked" is not a complete sentence)

correct: “When are we leaving?” she asked. (the line of dialogue is included in the complete sentence)

when formatting dialogue, you can add natural pauses by breaking up a spoken line with a dialogue tag or an action.

correct: “Wait,” they said. “I feel like this is getting overly complicated.” (within the lines of dialogue, ‘wait’ is its own sentence, so you use a period after ‘they said.’ you can remove the dialogue tag and it would be written like this: “Wait. I feel like this is getting overly complicated.”)

also correct: “I’m running out of sentence ideas,” they muttered, shifting in place, “but writing doesn’t sleep and neither do I.” (if you wrote the dialogue without the tag and action, it would look like this: “I’m running out of sentence ideas, but writing doesn’t sleep and neither do I.” adding the dialogue tag lengthens the natural pause created by the comma. also it’s 3am while i’m writing this. “go to sleep,” you say. to which i say, “did you not read my example sentence?”)

still correct i think (probably but english grammar is a total bitch): “I am going to stop now—” Here, she began rummaging through her bag, before producing a slender vial filled with shimmering liquid, “—and show you something of great importance.” (if you removed the interrupting action, the sentence would be written like this: “I am going to stop now and show you something of great importance.” there is no comma, so the pause being added is for effect, rather than for grammatical purposes. use an em dash (two hyphens, formats like: —) or ellipses (...). additionally, the action is its own separate sentence, rather than being attached to the dialogue as a tag, so it is capitalized.)

an additional note on em dashes: if they are used in a sentence, be it for an interjection, an interruption, a pause, or a secret fourth thing, there is no space before or after the dash. here’s an example from my wip: “Now, though—and overnight, it seemed—the two were acting as a unit, leaving her on the outside.”

if, for whatever reason, a character is speaking in paragraphs, the formatting gets a bit wonky.

“This is going to be the shortest example paragraph ever, but here goes. I am going to write three sentences so this qualifies as a paragraph. Two sentences might also qualify, but I am nothing if not committed to the bit. “New paragraph,” she continued, “same speaker. Wow, look, I incorporated an earlier concept to demonstrate it in a different context. How cool is that? You should totally follow whoever is posting such great writing advice.”

there is no end quote after the first paragraph, but there is a start quote at the beginning of the second paragraph. the end quote comes whenever the speaker is finished. why? i have no idea; i didn’t invent the english language, i just work here.

you can use colons and semicolons in dialogue. it gets a bit awkward, but we’ve just covered paragraph formatting, so how hard can it be?

correct: He asked: “What on earth are you talking about?” (colon in place of a comma when a dialogue tag is placed before the dialogue)

also correct: They said, “It’s getting late, isn't it?” (comma when a dialogue tag is placed before the dialogue)

incorrect: “What on earth are you talking about?”: he asked. (the question mark functions as a comma and eliminates the need for a colon. also, as a rule of thumb, the ending punctuation does not get placed outside of the quotation marks)

still incorrect: He asked; “What on earth are you talking about?” (use a comma)

you can also use colons and semicolons within lines of dialogue (as you would in a normal sentence)

stylistic choices

you do not have to use quotation marks in dialogue, but whatever you choose to do, do it consistently.

For example, some writers format their dialogue in italics, they said. But grammatical and punctuation rules still apply.

Others don’t use italics and just hope people can spot the dialogue or action tags, she supplied. This can get a bit confusing, but I think that’s the point.

— Some use dashes to indicate the start of a line of dialogue, and, of course, the standard varies from place to place and language to language.

‘Still more use single quotes,’ he offered, ‘though I’m not sure why. Maybe it looks better.’

that's it for now! really, you could probably write a book on this topic alone, and cover every minute detail of grammar within dialogue (how would one format an interrobang, i wonder?), but here's a kind-of-basic-but-still-dense guide :)

buy me a ko-fi | what's the deal with radio apocalypse?

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Heart's Vocalization Thoughts and Feelings

Hello and welcome to another round of Moonlight Chicken Posts That Literally No One @respectthepetty Specifically Asked For:

Heart Edition Round ?? i've lost count.

Mx. RTP may have gotten me hooked on red/blue through clothing but my first and truest love will always be lighting so I need everyone, but especially Professional Life Ruin-er Formerly Known as "Petty" (you're my best friend now, sorry I don't make the rules), to understand that this specific lighting ruined my life. Like on a cellular level, my body is a wasteland, my mind will never recover. Stepping in from the outside world, from Heart's world, Heart's life, Heart's home in to the rich, red, warmth of Li Ming's world, Li Ming's home. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, if my memory serves me correctly we never see Heart in warm lighting until the end of Episode 4, and we definitely don't see Heart in red lighting until Episode 5. Up until this point when Li Ming and Heart are together, there is always blue lighting on them, and especially when they are in Heart's home there is always a blue wash on the whole scene. So finally, finally we get red lighting babyyyyyy, fuck yeah!

Ok, sorry, I'm normal again.

Initial thoughts going in to the actual scene are as follows: 1. Stripes, my beloved! 2. Heart is so head over heels for Li Ming it's ridiculous.

Anyway, I love the small little smile that Heart has on his face here when Li Ming is essentially giving him an 'I told you so' to Heart about asking his Mom. I know that Li Ming sees Heart earlier on in the episode, but he isn't present for the conversation between Li Ming and his mother so regardless of whether he knows that Li Ming talked to her, I don't think he knows the specifics. But he follows this comment up with "You're smart. You can persuade her." Obviously he knows that something happened because Heart's mother has never listened to her son before, why would she start now?

So! Much! Red! Lighting! They are in love your honor. I am so grateful for every moment we get to see of Li Ming and Heart alone together having fun. They may be on the edge of adulthood, but there is still so much repressed youth in them that has been dying to get out and can't because it's been contained by parental shame, by the need to work to survive, by the nature of generational gaps and unsuccessful attempts to protect your loved ones.

When Heart and Li Ming are by themselves (with the exception of the post confrontation mental breakdown session in Ep. 5) there is so much joy between them. And look at Li Ming, he is so proud of himself here, for successfully persuading Heart's mother to let Heart leave the house. They don't have to sneak out anymore, Heart's parents are finally starting to understand that they can't make their son problem go away if they just keep Heart cooped up.

Once again like father-figure uncle like nephew, Li Ming has found himself a love interest that is also obsessed with the family cat. Honestly, this cat is living the dream, all he has to do all day is be held for approximately 30 seconds and get fed a fuck ton of treats. So far this scene is just very cute, Heart taking in his surroundings, attaching himself immediately to the cat, absolutely bathed in red light. And there is something so simple I love about the set up this moment brings to the important turning point that immediately follows...

Heart's holding the cat with both his hands. He can't text or sign.

Side Note: I am curious if Thai sign language has finger spelling.

And here we go! Heart speaks, not just vocalizes, it's not an exclamation of surprise, it's not a shuddering breath, or a sob. It's not a squeak or random sound Heart makes because he can't hear how loud he is being. Up until this point, every time we have heard a sound from Heart it has been unintentional. This is the first time we hear Heart speak. And importantly, he doesn't have to. He doesn't have to say anything. There isn't anything urgent, nothing that would require a sound to get Li Ming's immediately attention. He doesn't need to say Jimbo's name, literally right before this he looked at Li Ming and pointed to the cat. He could have ended the acknowledgement there. But he doesn't. He speaks. And he absolutely does not look at Li Ming while he does it. He keeps his eyes trained firmly on the cat in front of him.

I stole this gif from @earthpirapat because I don't know how to make them, and because I need anyone who reads this to see Li Ming's reaction in this moment. He is also looking at Jimbo, because he, like the audience, believes that Heart is going to end his acknowledgement of the cat's name by pointing to the cat. Li Ming is content to watch his friend play with his cat, and that's all he is expecting. Until "yyim-" tickles his ear, and Li Ming's head snaps straight up to Heart's face. You can tell how surprised he is at the way he pulls his head back a bit more to really look at Heart. To make sure that what just happened is actually real when he says "bo".

And I think it's important to know that Heart does not really seem hesitant to speak. He just...does it. What he is hesitant to do is look at Li Ming. He waits a full two seconds after he's said "Jimbo" to look up from the cat he is holding in his arms.

But he has nothing to worry about because when his eyes go to Li Ming, what does he see?

A puppy dog of a man, radiating excitement. Li Ming is beaming. It's funny to me a little bit that the thought has never seemed to cross Li Ming's mind that Heart, who only went deaf three years ago, is actually able to speak. But nevertheless he is thrilled.

"You can speak?" he asks, and he's chuckling a little and pausing and you can see all the gears in his head turning as he signs because it's like his whole worldview just got rocked. And GOD I love this moment so much because from the second that Heart speaks Li Ming's eyes never leave Heart. Or if they do it is literally an unconscious thing that is happening when he's trying to remember his signs. Heart puts Jimbo down and Li Ming literally folds his body in half, to follow Heart's movement, bends over to tap him on the shoulder. "Hey, you can speak?" he says again.

"Yeah? Can you speak again? I want to hear." he asks, and he's baffled. He's losing his signs. Like he is signing successfully to Heart, sure, but it's taking him much longer to create his sentence than it normally does because he's still in such shock over what just happened. That Heart can speak, that he heard his voice. His brain cannot keep up with his emotions.

The face of a man verrryyyy skeptical that his voice would be that exciting for anyone to hear.

"I"

"Want"

"To Hear"

"Your Voice"

I have no thoughts. I have no notes for this. It is just an incredibly powerful moment to me in furthering Li Ming as a safe zone for Heart, as someone trusted and precious. Each sign is deliberate. This is a deliberate request. This isn't a question built on surprise, "wait wait do it again" this is specific. "I want to hear your voice"

Look how pleasantly surprised Heart is. Look how happy, how bewitched he is in this moment. A few weeks back, I wrote a post analyzing Heart's communication. At the time I wrote it, I was doing a lot of speculating about Heart and his ability to talk and what it meant for the character if he could versus if he couldn't. The tl;dr version was me essentially wondering how much agency Heart has over his own isolation. Is he capable of talking and chooses not to to test the people around him, maintaining control of his own isolation, with speaking as a lifeline, or because Thai is a tonal language did he lose the ability to speak because not being able to hear might impede his ability to make distinct tones. Either way he has the ability to talk, it's a matter of whether or not he could be understood if he did vocalize his words.

I got a pretty quick reply from @littlederxxnged with a link to this Tweet quoting P'Aof and Heart's voice:

And if this quote is real, if the reason Heart doesn't speak is because he lacks the confidence to, this makes the scene all the more important and all the more wonderful for me. Because it's showing us, the audience, that Li Ming makes Heart feel confident. Li Ming makes Heart brave.

And I love that I don't get a sense of fear from Heart in any of this. Surprise? Yes. Confusion? Yes. Skepticism? A bit. Hesitation? Absolutely. But it doesn't seem to come from a place of fear. Heart is not afraid of using his voice around Li Ming, and he is never afraid of what Li Ming's reaction will be. He certainly has no idea what Li Ming's reaction will be, but it shows how much trust these two have built in one another, that Heart feels safe enough with Li Ming to test his voice.

I don't know if Heart will speak again the show. I don't care if he does. Speaking is not his primary language anymore and he doesn't owe his voice to anyone. I just want to establish that before I say I find it so much more special that Heart says his own name, rather than Li Ming's here. Why? Because the way I interpret Heart's character at this point is a man who is far more certain about what he wants out of life, now that he is able to live his life again. We get to hear Heart's name, we get to hear Heart speak for himself.

Something really cute about this moment as well is Li Ming's reaction. "I heard you just say your name!" I love that he signs to Heart what he heard. I love it so much. We know that Heart is hesitant to speak, and it takes him a second to get the word out, and I'm sure he can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords when he says his name, but he can't hear it. Li Ming is SO obviously happy, so obviously thrilled.

But this is about Heart, Li Ming's feelings have nothing to do with it. Okay, Li Ming's feelings have everything to do with it for Heart. But Li Ming's initial, gut-reaction response to hearing Heart, hesitantly say his name, is to hype the ever-loving FUCK out of that boy.

"You're great! You're awesome! How can you speak? You're so great. I'm happy." and GOD Heart can't even hear him say it. Li Ming isn't signing here, I mean he is very obviously happy, and very obviously showering Heart in praise. But Heart cannot hear him. For most of the hug he can't even read Li Ming's lips. But the pride, the joy, the excitement is so palpable. He's jumping up and down, you don't really need to hear his words to feel how happy he is about what just happened.

He pulls back "How could you do it? I'm happy. Can you see? I'm so happy," He is talking so fast. He is talking so so fast. He cannot contain himself. But he has integrated himself so much into Heart's life, that despite the fact that he is fully forgetting to sign here, he is touching Heart, he is jumping up and. down with Heart, he is showing Heart how much being trusted with his voice means to him.

Sweet baby angel, you are talking so fast. He sees a bunch of words coming out of your mouth but does not hear what you are saying. And he looks confused because he definitely did not anticipate this strong of a positive reaction to just saying his name. Especially when you consider he isn't confident in his voice. He looks confused because he almost certainly did not anticipate this outcome.

(Ignore the subtitles on that second picture, focus on Heart's smile)

Does Heart owe us his voice? No. Did we ever need to know if he could speak? No. Does this moment hit particular hard after the confrontation scene last episode concerning the use of the term "mute" in reference to Heart. Absolutely. We saw how much it hurt Heart to learn his mother refers to him as mute.

We know Heart has to beg Li Ming to even tell him what she said, Heart can see how much Li Ming hesitated to deliver that blow. He saw how strongly Li Ming was standing against his parents, he's a smart kid. He might not be able to follow the full conversation cause it's happening quickly, and they are shouting which fucks with lip shape to read lips, and Li Ming and his mother are both facing away from him. But he knows his mother said something bad, he knows Li Ming defended him.

It is so so so so so SO important to me that Heart decides to speak in this moment. That he uses his voice casually, to say a cat's name, in private, with just the two of them.

Heart's voice is not a commodity, it's not a novelty. It's a gift. And Li Ming treats it as such. Heart is being vulnerable with Li Ming. Heart hasn't spoken to anyone in three years, and when he does speak in front of Li Ming for the first time Li Ming literally cannot contain his joy. I love how many times the camera cuts to Heart's face in this, to show us to tell us that Heart loves this. That he is surprised by it, but that he is more than happy to speak again, that he is smiling the whole time because he knows how important it is to Li Ming. Because it's important to him too.

If you finished this whole post, congratulations you have won an invisible medal.

[hylias-library]

@muffin-min I had to change blogs, so I don't have your original ask anymore, so I'll just tag you here and use screenshots!

You told me to go where I pleased after this conversation, so I did xd. I kept the conversation similar but replayed the scene with my own words. I hope you like it!

Also @pinkittwice you wanted a tag for this as well^^

[Navigation]

"Ok. Me and Warriors will check in at the guest house. Hyrule and Legend will get potions. Four and Sky will get new weapons for Wild. Y/n and Twilight will get new food rations." Time stated and then locked gazes with the Champion and the Sailor.

"Wild and Wind."

They looked everywhere but at Time.

"Don't cause a scene like last time. No fire around buildings."

They begrudgingly nodded, wandering off to explore the area while the other groups set off to gather what they needed.

You watched them retreat with a little half smile, then locked gazes with Twilight, who just shrugged. "They'll get over it."

Snorting, you shook your head and passed the rancher. "Come on. The food's not gonna buy itself!"

Twilight rolled his eyes with an amused huff, joining you. "You don't say."

You smacked him on the shoulder, laughing. "Just let me have this."

Happy you got paired with Twilight, you strolled towards a cluster of stalls you've spotted earlier. You had really taken a liking to the Hero of Twilight, and you welcomed every opportunity to be able to get a little closer to him.

Little did you know he felt the same way.

You've been browsing through the stalls of the market, Twilight already carrying a few new food items in his bags.

It was a lively place, with people shuffling all over and merchants giving each other shouting matches, trying to sell off their wares.

You had just stopped at another stall, looking at a few vegetables, when one of the merchants next to it started to yell.

"HEY YOU! YOUNG LADY!"

Confused, you looked around, then to the vendor, then to Twilight, then pointed at yourself.

He nodded energetically. "Yes! YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE!"

You blinked a few times, completely confused. "The one?... for what?"

What was he on about? You glanced at the rancher next to you, who just looked as lost as you were, shrugging his shoulders.

The man waved his hands around, gesturing intensely. "You're the one meant to be with me! My one and only future partner! So beautiful and graceful! I can already see it before my eye! A GREAT wedding! I knew as soon as I laid eyes on you!"

Your mouth fell open at his exclamation, stunned and at a complete loss of words. "I... what??"

The merchant nodded in approval. "I know. It's stunning to meet your soulmate. Of course, you'd be too flustered to say anything!"

He went around his stall, over to where you stood, and grabbed your wrist. "I bet you're going to look absolutely dashing in white! You should meet my family right now! They're going to adore you!"

You watched him in disbelief and started tugging on your wrist. He had a damn tight grip and was very much crazy to you. "No. Let me go. Now."

He ignored you, rambling on and on about his family and his delirious wedding plans, while trying to drag you along against your will.

"Let me go! You're making me uncomfortable!" You exclaimed, this time in a mix of annoyance and concern.

No response. Only more rambling. People were already starting to look your way to see what the cause of this ruckus was.

You were just about to protest again when someone grabbed you and pulled you behind them.

It was Twilight, who had watched the scene with growing displeasure.

"And who are you supposed to be?" The salesman asked in annoyance.

"I'm their friend." Twilight stated in a sour mood.

The salesman just huffed. "Can't you see I'm busy planning our wedding?" He said while trying to grab you again.

In concerning speed, Twilight grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it away from you. His gaze was cold and sharp, disapproval showing clearly, as he held the merchant in place.

"They said No."

The clerk shrunk under the ranchers, intimidating eyes. "I- I'm sorry."

Twilight tilted his head, his upper lip lifting slightly, as if he was baring his teeth.

How dare this random guy lay a finger on you. You were supposed to be with him.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

You've never seen someone nod their head as quickly as this guy before, instantly turning to you.

"I'm really sorry for my behavior and for making you uncomfortable." He tried to bow as good as he could, still being trapped by Twilight's iron grip, glancing at the rancher nervously.

Twilight wasn't satisfied. "And?"

The salesman gulped audibly. "And it will never happen again."

You nodded, having watched everything until now. "Yes." You replied soberly. "It should never happen again."

With that, Twilight let the man's wrist go before pulling him in harshly by his collar, making you gasp. Hands already gripping onto his tunic's sleeve. "Twi. Please, the people are already looking at us weirdly."

Twilight locked eyes with you, his gaze softening instantly, and nodded with a deep sigh.

His gaze snapped back to the now trembling vendor, eyes practically spitting fire.

"If I ever see you anywhere near them again, you'll have to deal with me. And I won't let you get away this easily a second time."

With that, the rancher let go, and the salesman scrambled away as fast as he possibly could.

Twilight cleared his throat when you let go of his sleeve. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause a scene."

You softly huffed through your nose. And with a gentle smile on your lips, you stood on your tippytoes and placed a kiss on the hero's cheek. "It’s fine. Thank you for scaring him off."

Eyes traveling to where you've last seen the salesman, you rubbed the wrist that had been grabbed by him. "This was really creepy."

Seeking Twilight's gaze again, your lips lifted upwards again. "Let’s finish the shopping and then maybe take a rest at the river we saw earlier?"

Twilight smiled back, offering his arm to you, which you happily accepted. Maybe he'd shoot his shot with you sooner than he thought. It seemed he really had a chance.

"Anything for you."

[kkulbeolyeonghwa]

Ainu Language (1) アイヌ イタク （シネプ）aynu itak (sinep)

So because literally one person said that they'd read my posts about Ainu, I'll make this post.

Before reading: I am not fluent. I’ve been studying this language for about one year now. What I’ll present in this series is a bunch of translations and my interpretations of various sources (which are mostly Japanese, inaccessible to non-linguists, or both). I am mainly using the Southern Hokkaido dialects. I try not to include hyper-local dialects and use the most widespread versions of words, but as the Ainu language has multiple dialects, I might have to use dialects at times.

I will be using both katakana and Latin for this series. However, if you know katakana, you cannot just read the text as if you were reading Japanese. Get used to the Ainu katakana system before reading. If you're studying with the romanization, you can start reading right away as it is more true to the actual pronunciation compared to the katakana.

Grammar point 1.1) ク= | ku= | I 

So, “ku” is used in sentences to mean “I” when it’s a subject. This = notation is important in Ainu; it shows that this word is to be attached to a verb! Here are some examples:

ク ミナ ku=mina (mina - smile/laugh) I smile.

Here, the = sign shows that the subject, ku, is attached to the verb, mina. = does not have a sound, it is only used for ease of reading.

ク チシ ku=cis (cis - cry) I cry.

Again, ku= is attached to the verb cis.

Grammar point 1.2) エ= | e= | you

This one works the same way as ku=! Try to make sentences using this and the two verbs! Here are some new verbs to use;

エ モコロ e=mokor (mokor - sleep) You sleep. エ オマン e=oman (oman - go) You go.

Verbs are not conjugated in Ainu, so you can switch the pronouns and verbs up to make more sentences without worry. However, remember to keep the sentence structure the same and attach the pronouns correctly; the = should be attached to the verb.

ku=mokor, ku=oman, e=mina, e=cis.

Grammar point 2.1) Adding objects

ワッカ クヌカラ Wakka ku=nukar. I see water.

Wakka means water. The object is added before the subject and the verb.

チャペ エ ヌカラ Cape e=nukar. You see a cat.

Cape means cat. (Pronunciation tip: “c” in Ainu is pronounced like the “ch” in Japanese or English. “Y” in ainu is pronounced like “I”.)

Remember that these are only the pronouns to be used as a subject. 

Grammar point 2.2) He/She/They…

In Ainu, the 3rd person pronoun is dropped from sentences.

アプカシ apkas - (he/she…) walks シニ sini - (he/she…) rests カラ kar - (he/she…) makes

Remember, the verbs don’t have conjugations, so you can just stick the pronouns from earlier to these and call it a day!

You can also add a noun as a subject;

エカシ アプカシ ekaci apkas - the old man walks. チェプ シニ cep sini. - the fish rests. チャペ ミナ cape mina- - the cat smiles.

Grammar point 2.3) Commands

These are easy. Just say the verb and add an exclamation mark! No conjugation, no subject, no nothing. Simple!

エク! Ek! - come! ヌ! Nu! - listen! ヌカラ! Nukar! - look!

Want more Ainu? Like this post! I'll make more if there is demand!

[sugaredoleander]

i just took my final ancient greek exam of the semester yesterday and have been avoiding studying for my microbiology exam all day. so let's talk about these three devastating lines from anne carson's translation of herakles

and by talk about i mostly mean here's a bunch of different translations

Ἡρακλῆς μαινόμενος - Herakles by Euripides, lines 1398-1400

c. 416 BC.

original text in Ancient Greek via the Perseus Digital Library

Euripides. The Complete Greek Drama, edited by Whitney J. Oates and Eugene O'Neill, Jr. in two volumes. 1. Heracles, translated by E. P. Coleridge. New York. Random House. 1938.

Herakles translated by Anne Carson in Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides (pg 81-82) 2006

Internet Archive

H of H playbook by Anne Carson (not a direct translation but a reimagining of Herakles, 2021)

Euripides: Herakles, translated by Tom Sleigh, Oxford University Press, 2001

Ian C. Johnston, 2020

Heracles, translated by William Arrowsmith, from Euripides III: Heracles, the Trojan Women, Iphigenia Among the Taurians, Ion (The Complete Greek Tragedies - Euripides III, University of Chicago Press, 2013 (Arrowsmith's translation itself is from 1956)

my own translation with notes under the cut

* everywhere that I have used [] I have inserted a word that does not technically appear in the original text.

Theseus Stop! Give [your] hand [to me], [your] servant [and] friend. 

*more literally: Stop! Give [your] hand to a servant/helper [and] friend.

* Ancient Greek uses different punctuation, though the : symbol is used roughly the same way as it is in English and exclamation points are not used, verb conjugation in English does not differentiate the imperative mood, which παῦσαι (sg.2.aor.imperat.med-pass) is in, and often the way we show imperative mood in written English is with an exclamation point. 

-The word δίδου (sg.2.praes.imperat.act.) is also imperative. 

-παῦσαι is said in reference to Herakles’ earlier lines, lamenting his - well, the plot of Herakles.

* The particle δὲ has been omitted from the translation. It’s usually translated as but, and, or then. 

* The possessive pronoun your - σός - does not appear but is implied.

* χεῖρ᾽ is the short version of χειρός - hand

* ὑπηρέτῃ φίλῳ are both nouns in dative, here answering the question to whom? The word and - καί - does not appear between the two, likely because poetic language. The word ὑπηρέτῃ can also mean rower, an underling, servant, attendant, assistant, and is often translated here as helper. The word φίλῳ is a form of φίλος - friend, loved, beloved, dear

Herakles No, lest I wipe off blood on your garments.

* Word order changed slightly. The first word is ἀλλ᾽ - poetically shortened version of ἀλλά - usually translated as but, however, here: lest.

* ἐξομόρξωμαι (sg.1.aor.med-pass.) means wipe off or wipe away, but stain is, in my opinion, not an inaccurate translation in regards to the meaning conveyed.

* πέπλοις means any woven cloth, here usually translated as garments, robes or clothes. 

* αἷμα means blood and is grammatically either nominative or accusative, probably accusative, μὴ means not and σοῖς is a second person possessive pronoun in plural dative.

Theseus Wipe it off, spare naught: I [do] not refuse [you].

* ἔκμασσε (sg.2.praes.imperat.act.) - wipe it off - is imperative again, so is φείδου (sg.2.praes.imperat.med-pass.) - spare.

* μηδέν I translated as naught as in nothing, οὐκ means not

* ἀναίνομαι is in sg.1.praes.ind. - so present tense would be the most literal translation, ie. I do not refuse you, but the meaning might best be conveyed in English with the use of future tense, ie. I will not refuse you. The word can also mean reject, deny, renounce and disown, or be ashamed. Possible other translations: I don’t deny you; I won’t reject you; I am not ashamed; I won’t renounce you.)

That's all on Herakles, the rest is me rambling about Ancient Greek grammar for interested parties (mostly myself). If I could put a second cut here, I would.

Some further notes on the grammatical cases and verb conjugation. You'll have noticed that I've followed verbs with parentheses with some abbreviations. I'll break those down a little for those not in the know: unlike English, Ancient Greek has different endings to denote the person in verb conjugation - 1.sg being first person singular as in I, and so on with 2.sg - you, 3.sg he/she/singular they, 1.pl - we, 2.pl - plural you, 3.pl - plural they. There's also technically an extant dual form in some texts (when speaking of a pair of two) but it's rare. Ancient Greek conjugation also varies a lot by the temporal tense, the ancient greek times are present (praesens - praes.), future (futurum and futurum III), imperfect (imperfectum), strong and weak aorist (aor. - this one doesn't exist in any modern languages and is a bit of a jeremy bearimy but is usually translated as either present or past, depending on the context), perfect (perfectum), and pluperfect (pluscuamperfectum) - all of these except imperfect and pluperfect (which only have indicative forms) then have various forms - indicative (ind.), infinitive (inf.), imperative (imperat.), optative (opt.) and conjunctive (coni.). Verbs also have an active (act.) and middle and passive or active and mediopassive (med-pass.) form, except some verbs only have mediopassive versions and are thus translated as either active or mediopassive depending on the context. This is as complicated (and fun!) as it sounds. (editors note: the fun! was not sarcastic - i am a medstudent who hasn't had to take two semesters worth of classes on this, nor do i have to keep taking ancient greek next semester but i'm going to)

Nouns in Ancient Greek also have grammatical cases, nominative, genitive, dative, accusative and vocative, as do adjectives. They also have genders, and adjectives of course have positive, comparative and superlative (good, better, best) forms.

Ancient Greek also uses a lot of participles, which is like a noun-ified verb. Participles are also a concept in English, just - a lot simpler in English, and also I think in English a participle is a verb that has some characteristics of an adjective or noun, whereas in Ancient Greek participles and verbal adjectives are separate concepts. Participles are derived from verbs and have the same grammatical cases as nouns, nominative, genitive, dative, accusative and vocative, and singular and plural versions, and have three genders, masc., fem. and neut. - they also have active and mediopassive forms, and differ based on the temporal conjugation of the verb, retaining its augment, reduplication, characteristic added letters (for example σ in the future tense, and θη + σ in the passive future) or lack thereof, also they can have different endings or roots based on the tense. So, yeah, "conjugate and translate this verb in part.fut.pass.sg.masc.gen. and II aor.part.act.sg.acc.fem." is what a test question might look like at my level of studying ancient greek.

Sentence constructions also differ from English, some of the most common ones are AcI, NcI, genitivus absolutus. accusativus duplex and nominativus duplex. They also will often skip words (particularly the verb to be they often deemed unnecessary) and poetic language is its own can of worms with its own theoretical dialects and prosody.

All of this is like, barely scratching the surface, there's also a bunch of different dialects, stuff varies by era, all of the noun cases have like, a Bunch of different uses, and it's all terribly interesting.

[luniidae]

~ Of Gold and Blood ~

~ The Encounter ~

Chapter I

Note: Hi everyone! I recently started to rewrite some chapters of my fic to improve it with new scenes, lore, and new illustrations... There will be details which won't respect the DnD universe, just so you know. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy it!

Please keep in mind that English isn't my native language, thanks! 🖤

You can now read it on AO3 ✨

            What could be said is that Luvia didn't have an ordinary childhood, but actually, she didn't really have the time to have one. The little girl was only 6 years old when she crossed paths with a certain warlock, Korilla Hearthflame. 

This encounter would change the course of her life, but no one could say yet if this was for the better or the worse...

           Korrilla was on a mission for her devilish boss, Raphael, when she stopped at the Sunken Flagon of Neverwinter. The air was fresh but not cold, and the uproar of clinking mugs and the cheerful exclamations could be heard from the outside. 

She didn't intend to stay for the night though, since the boss's business doesn't wait. She still took the time to relax a bit with some refreshment before hitting the road again. It had been a long day after all, and it wasn't over yet. She was on her way to collect a particularly ancient and rare book for her master. It belonged to a wizard who was so desperate to possess the absolute knowledge he was ready to part with his most precious possession.... And his soul. His delicious, power hungry, soul. 

              A simple and pretty common request from a mortal of his kind, the usual routine. As promised, he knew everything.... And anything. From the most useful information to the most insignificant one, and it appeared to be far less entertaining than he expected. Researches were an important and stimulating part of any wizard's life, but what is the point of searching when you know everything already? Beside the incredible boredom of his new life, he didn't certainly expect his brain to be too "small" for such an amount of knowledge. The flow of the thoughts in his mind was so intense and unstoppable that the poor man eventually went mad and threw himself from the window of his tower. What a pity.

              A few uninteresting chats and a pint later, it was time for our golden dwarf to get back to her work. However, as she left the inn, she suddenly felt like she was being watched. She scanned the surroundings and caught the sight of two red points in the darkness of a rooftop, facing the establishment. 

             There it was, a tiny silhouette sitting near an open window that probably overlooked its bedroom. It didn't move an inch and silently observed the passers-by from the shadows. Its eyes, like two rubies glowing in the night, were locked on her.

Korrilla thought it was a vampire at first, but the spark in its gaze seemed.... Different. Anyway, she decided to keep an eye on the little creature, just in case it would have been stupid enough to see the warlock as a prey. 

             The dwarf took to the road again, the wizard's tower was no longer far from here and she could reach it on foot in less than an hour or so. A soft breeze was caressing her face while she was walking, and the smell of the night air was invigorating, helping her to clear her mind after the beer she drank earlier. It was nice sometimes not to use a portal, she thought. 

But she remained on her guard, because she knew she was being followed, and she knew by who, or what. Korrilla wondered what interest she could have aroused. Did the creature want her gold? Her blood? Or was it simple curiosity? That's what she would find out soon...

                As she was approaching her destination, she felt a presence in her back, but nothing like what she perceived earlier in the shadows. This time, there were really someone behind her. The warlock didn't give her little spy the time to do or say anything since she suddenly turned on her heels to face them, ready to vanish in a mist if necessary. It was a girl and she didn't fight back when the young woman grabbed her forearm firmly. She instinctively curved her back like a frightened kitten, and the grip of her tiny hand on Korilla's as she was trying to remove it was weak and ridiculous. The creature seemed harmless and miserable, but Korilla was now able to take a closer look at her. She had long and dark brown hair, a bit messy, she had pointy ears and two little horns. Her eyes were a deep red tone and her skin was pale.... But not pale enough to be a vampire. Moreover, it seemed like she had no pointy teeth either. 

"Hmf, nice try, little Tiefling", the young woman said, a smug look on her face. But she interrupted herself as she observed the girl. She didn't look exactly like a tiefling despite her appearance. She had no tail and none of those sharp traits. Actually, she looked more like an elf with horns and vampire eyes. 

               What a strange mix... She thought, but her attention was caught by something else. The little girl had a few bruises on her, not big ones, but still... Korrilla got lost in her thoughts for a second. Those bluish marks on a so young skin reminded her of her life before she moved to the House of Hope with her sister. 

               Her previous master had no consideration for her, giving her nothing but crumbs to eat.... Well, when she could. Being at the service of a devil might have seemed problematic for some, but at least, Raphael treated her well. Korilla came back to her sense and looked at the horned creature in the eyes.

"What do you want?", she asked.

She paused for a few seconds, her gaze locked on the child's face and more specifically, those scarlet eyes. There was something strange about her... But she couldn't really explain it or tell if it was in a good or a bad way. The young girl's lips parted.

"I......", she started to whisper without finishing her sentence. She didn't really look scared, but surprised and lost, as if she herself didn't know why she's been following her from the tavern. 

"You should get back home, kid, the streets aren't safe at night", the dwarf added. 

At those words, a slight change occured in the child's gaze. She suddenly looked reluctant and tried to take a step backward in an attempt to break free from Korilla's grip.

"Ouch !", the girl exclaimed. 

She looked down at her feet, and so does the warlock. She had stepped in a few pieces of broken glass, and the poor fabric of her shoes was too thin to prevent the sharp object to pierce the flesh.     

           She stood on her other foot, making little jumps while she was removing the glass pieces. Korrilla released her grip on her, allowing her to run away when something caught her eyes again... A few little and red swirls of magic appeared when she accidentally cut herself. It was very weak, but it came from her wounded foot. She raised an eyebrow and was about to call after her, but she eventually did nothing. She looked at her go in the dark streets, noticing two little red point looking back at her from time to time as the creature moved away quickly. That was magic trace, not blood, or not entirely, she was sure of this. But she couldn't afford to waste any more time and she kept heading to the tower as planned. 

             Once Korrilla collected the precious book she came for, she opened a portal to the House of Hope. It was good to be back home, but she couldn't help but think of her last encounter. Where did the girl go? Did she go back home? Why did she look suddenly so concerned when the warlock told her to do so? To this last question, she could easily guess the answer. The bruises she had seen on the creature's arms weren't due to some too enthusiastic child plays. But she quickly chased the thought out of her mind and headed to Raphael's office. 

              The door was open but she knocked at it nonetheless. Her boss was focused on some paperwork at his desk, he spoke without looking up.

"There you are, Korrilla. I hope my ambitious yet tragic client has not been to reluctant to honor his part of the deal". The cambion chuckled, amused by his own joke.

He knew the wizard wouldn't handle such power, so much knowledge was simply too much for a pathetic being like him. The cambion haven't even bothered himself to take the book right away when he made him sign the contract. 

"Oh do not worry, I'll come back in a few days to take my due, and you'll tell me everything about this new and fascinating life of yours. I can't wait...", he had said to him. 

Korrilla smirked as she took a few steps forward, "Oh he was delighted to part with it", she answered. She put the packaged object on the desk.

"I suppose you have faced no difficulties there", the devil said, taking the book to remove delicately the fabric it was wrapped into.

"Not at all. I just have been slowed by... A curious little thing...", the dwarf answered.

"Is that so...?"

"Oh nothing important really, just a strange kid who's been following me all the way to the tower"

Raphael raised an eyebrow, "You've been slowed.... By a child.... ?"

Korrilla caught a mix of disbelief and exasperation in her boss's eyes, as he was trying to understand how such an insignificant nuisance could have been important enough for her to mention it. 

"Well, this kid didn't look like an ordinary one after all", she quickly added as if she was trying to make it look like a good excuse, "And her blood smelled like pure magic"

The devil slightly frowned.

".... Magic?", he said with a sceptical tone. For a second or so, he almost seemed to stare at her in order to check if she was drunk or something. 

"Yes"

The mention of the girl was a bit weird already, but this particular detail managed to catch his attention though.

"Did you kill her to know such a thing?"

"No, she cut herself actually", she answered with a hint of exasperation in her voice, "I thought she was a vampire Tiefling"

"But she was not... ?"

"No and I had a weird feeling about her when she looked at me", she admitted.

"My my, it seems that she made quite an impression on you", Raphael noticed, "How was she ?"

Surprisingly, Raphael really looked curious about it. His warlock didn't used to waste her time with minor details, so it was quite intriguing to see her react this way and he wanted to know why. 

            The dwarf made him a detailed description of the child, talking about her non-tiefling features, the absence of tail, her pointy ears, and those particular red eyes. The cambion looked very serious as he listened to her, as if he was thinking about something at the same time, taking mental notes of her words. 

"Hm...", he seemed lost in his thoughts for a few seconds, "Keep an eye on her", he simply said, his chin resting on one of his fists. 

The young woman looked a bit confused. This horned little creature was strange for sure, but did it worth it to watch over her?

Nonetheless, she nodded, "Alright, consider it done"

"Good", Raphael made a gesture to indicate her to leave him alone, and so she did. 

He didn't say anything but the description Korilla gave to him reminded him of something. Something deep and ancient.... And certainly useful if his suspicion happened to be true. But he needed to make some research first. 

             When he was done with his current matters, he headed to his library looking for some specific books. He had an idea of the nature of the child, he suspected her to be a Dracanist, even if it seemed pretty unlikely. But the reaction of the blood and the uncomfortable aura were two fundamental elements to him, the only details which made him doubt and think there might be something interesting to find out.

             The Dracanists were an ancient race, extinguished for centuries. Or at least, they were supposed to be. This people was known for their regenerative faculties and their unique and particular use of blood magic. Raphael remembered having seen some of them in his young years... They could have been easily mistaken with Tieflings or devils, but unlike them, they had no tail (and no wings). A simple yet important detail when you wanted to make the difference between them, but most of the mortals wouldn't pay attention to it. 

           Apart from that, they all had pointy ears, as long as high-elf's, and characteristic scarlet eyes which could be seen in the dark. Not very discreet, he thought, but probably terrifying for whoever happened to cross paths with them in the middle of the night. And they had horns.... Very special horns. There were so little information about these that no one actually know how it worked exactly, but those horns were the source of their regenerative power. They used to be cut sometimes, but only a very short amount of it, to be used in some healing processes. There were a very few known cases of people cured thanks to a Dracanist horn, and the effects on average creatures such humans were apparently incredible. 

              But it wasn't even the most interesting part. Their power was great, impressive, dangerous.... But there was also a reason for them to be called "Dracanists". They were apparently related to dragons, but nothing to do with dragonborns or something. All the Dracanists were capable of turning themselves into blood dragons. Creatures so fierce that the Githyanki's red dragons themselves almost feared them. They didn't breathe fire, but something like bloody putrid waves, devastating and painful, making instantly rot anything in their wake.

              A slight grin appeared on Raphael's face. If the girl Korilla met was really such a being, and this young, it could be interesting to keep her close. He was a very ambitious devil after all and, one day, he would take over the nine hells, he was sure of that. But it required a meticulous and very well prepared plan... And some specific artefacts. He didn't have all of the necessary elements yet, but he could keep the pretended Dracanist near him, manipulate and shape her just like he would like to so he could

use her powers in due time. In the meantime, he would eventually pay her a visit soon...

To be continued...

Bonus: Chapter 1's first version illustration

[wooahaes]

community & pumpkin patches

pairing: non-idol!vocal unit & gn!reader

genre: fluff! platonic content <3

word count: 0.9k~

warnings: food mentions. just silly pumpkin patch visits w the boys!!

daisy's notes: oh to go to a pumpkin patch and hold hands with jeonghan and take pics w seungkwan and--

For the past few weeks, you had today marked on your calendar in red. PUMPKIN PATCH W/ THE BOYS!!! (Yes, with three exclamation points, because that was how important today was to you.)

The six of you had met up at the pumpkin patch outside of the city, and came together to enjoy everything it had to offer. Jeonghan’s hand found your own all too soon as he stood between you and Joshua’s, swinging both of your hands as he walked with you. He’d been excited, too: this place had a small petting farm, and the two of you admittedly gushed a little over seeing baby sheep. Seokmin came up to your other side, hand slipping into your own as he walked alongside you. Jihoon and Seungkwan were walking slightly ahead of the four of you, Jihoon staring down at his phone. You’d seen this place’s website open on it earlier.

“Vernon said the apple cider is here,” he mused aloud. 

Seungkwan let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “I also said that it's good.” 

“You did?” Jihoon looked up, saying nothing for a moment as his cheeks turned red. “Sorry.” 

The moment passed all too quickly, as Seungkwan pointed out the sunflower field off to the right. There was a sign talking about prices for people to pick sunflowers, but… “I want to take pictures before we leave,” he said, turning back to face the rest of you. “Okay? We’re not leaving until we take pictures together.” 

Joshua smiled. “We know, Seungkwan.”

The six of you had been talking about this trip for the past week, after all. Jeonghan quickly brought up the fact that he and Seungkwan wanted to get maybe a smaller pumpkin for their apartment to keep near the entrance—they’d carve something cute into it as a little greeting for guests—and maybe stick a scented candle inside of it. Joshua pulled his hand free from Jeonghan’s at one point, drifting off to look at something that had caught his eye, leaving you to wander onward with the rest of the group. Jihoon split off to get apple cider, Seokmin coming after him with the promise to get you a cup as well, leaving you and Jeonghan to swing arms as you pranced forward together. Seungkwan rolled his eyes for maybe a minute before Jeonghan grabbed his hand, too—and you caught a glimpse of that smile on his face. The Jeonghan smile that often said “I’m not stopping until you smile, because I’m your favorite nuisance.” 

Only for him to look ahead, letting go of both of your hands. He turned back, calling your name as he rushed ahead toward the little petting farm, slowing down as he approached it as to not scare anything. He waited for you near the sheep, crouching down to look at the more curious babies that had come over.

Jeonghan ushered you over, almost like a mother would with her kid (team mom Jeonghan always seemed to shine through on these group outings). “Seungkwan-ah, get a picture of us!”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes yet again for a moment, unable to suppress a smile. As embarrassing as it might be to have friends like this, you knew that he loved you all with his entire heart. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m only giving them cute stickers.”

The two of you posed just long enough for Seungkwan to take a nice picture before you immediately turned to carefully pet the baby. You were sure that you could hear the shutter of Seungkwan’s phone as he snapped more pictures, but you were riding this high of ‘baby animals adorable’ instead. 

“I think,” Joshua announced as he came back over, “I made a good purchase.”

You looked up from where you were watching Jeonghan was trying to attract a cow that was on the other side of its pen. Joshua pulled out a small pumpkin, big enough to fit snugly in his hand, from behind his back.

Fuck, he was right. Solid purchase, ten out of ten, he needed to watch it because you might try to steal it. Pumpkins were cool and all, but baby pumpkins? They had the additional factor of ‘tiny’ to make them cute (similar to the way Jihoon acted sometimes where that tiny ‘whoa!’ was one of the cutest things he could ever say). 

Jihoon and Seokmin eventually rejoined the group, carrying cups of apple cider for the rest of you. For a moment, the six of you walked away from the petting farm area, enjoying the chill of autumn and the combative warmth of the apple cider, sweet and tart on your tongue. Jihoon had admitted that Seungkwan (and, technically, Vernon) had been right about it, all while pulling his scarf a little more snug, while Seokmin huddled closer to you for warmth. 

“Just for now,” he said softly, “I promise.”

Truthfully, Seokmin could cuddle closer to you in the middle of summer and you probably wouldn’t have the heart to shove him away immediately. But now, in the colder morning? His presence was more than welcome, and you’d slipped your hand out of your pocket to hold his again. Sure, it would warm up a little more later, sure, but the six of you had agreed to come out early to try and avoid any heavy crowds and the heat. It was nicer this way, too: you liked having these moments with your close friends, always finding something interesting to do. 

Maybe the six of you would come back next year. If you didn’t, at least you would have plenty of pictures of the six of you together by the end of it, standing in front of sunflowers and beaming with joy from being together again. 

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | thirteen

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away. Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch." He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know. It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care—he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it.   'Oh, the girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.'

Bad Decision #13 - Work of Art

warnings: jungkook discovers boobs! we rejoice! wahooo!! okay so this entire chapter is basically titty worship (no titty sucking (sad)). lots of paint. curious art. shower (again) mutual masturbation (for realsies this time) jaykay aka my dream man. the chess plot device is born! the mirror kink is also born! WE THRIVE!!

soundtrack: vibez- zayn

wc: 11.8k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

"Why did you write it like that?"

"Like what?" you say, coming to sit beside Jungkook at a pair of easels towards the back of the room. The last few tasks were carried out by the pair of you, Jungkook insisting on helping despite the fact he had no clue really what to do. You'd ended up asking him to move a couple of boxes you couldn't reach just to appease his need to lend a hand.

He looks at your bird once more, and holds it open for you to read again. You knock your head to the side and shrug.

"Guess it's just how I feel about it."

"Like screaming?"

"Kind of," you laugh. It's written in just the same way as the last one - full capital letters, zero context, and more exclamation points than any one person should use. "I guess it's like... a big one for me?"

"How big are we talking?" Jungkook asks as he looks at it again. It's just a single word, but he knows there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with you.

You pull one of your feet up to the chair and wrap your arms around your knee. The apron you'd been wearing earlier is up on a hook, and Jungkook finds the simplicity of your outfit all very intriguing. You're monochromatic, which isn't much of a surprise, in a large white shirt and black slacks. The caps of your hightops peek out from the hem of your trousers, and a satin scrunchie is around your wrist instead of in your hair.

You're lacking a little sparkle. There's still some across your lashline, and little specks on your skin that your makeup remover hadn't managed to get, but what with the paint and the two showers you've had since the paint party, there's really not all that much left.

He wonders if there's any glitter glue in the art supplies. Thinks you should just use that instead. You're really not quite yourself without it.

"My ex was a tittie guy," you say, and Jungkook's eyes widen as if he'd forgotten the topic of conversation. You laugh. "Is it really that much of a surprise? Ass guys are hardly gonna go for me."

"Your ass is fine," Jungkook says. He means it as a compliment, but realises 'fine' isn't the way to ever really describe a woman's assets—and so he corrects himself. "Good, I mean. Your ass is good."

There's a look of disgust on your face as you question why on earth he's been looking at your ass, which causes him to roll his eyes. There really is no winning with you.

"I'm an ass guy," he shrugs.

"Doesn't give you any right to look at it."

"Oh give over," he laughs. "It's literally just a body part. No different to me looking at, I don't know... your wrist. Something like that."

"Well, it depends," you argue back. "Are you into wrists?"

Regretfully, the answer is yes.

"I don't know!" Jungkook protests when you grill him for how the fuck he can be 'into' wrists. "They're just dainty! And pretty! I don't know! It's not my fault."

You narrow your eyes, and hide your exposed wrist behind your knee. He looks at you with a poorly hidden smile, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His lip ring always dances along his peachy bottom lip when he does so, and it makes you laugh - but you're still feigning disgust.

In all honestly, you like your wrists. Would put them in your top five for your physical attributes. Completely understand why he would be into wrists, just like you're into forearms. You like arms that feel safe.

Kind of like his.

But still, he's an ass guy.

"See, this is why you and I would never work," you tell him, and nod to the piece of paper he's still holding, adorned with a singular scribble:

!!!!! TITS !!!!!

"We want different things," you clarify. "You're after a good ass, I'm after a guy who knows how to handle a pair of tits."

"Hey! That's not fair. I never said I didn't know how to handle them," he scoffs - although now he comes to think about it, he's not sure he actually does. "Like, sure, maybe my exes have all had great asses, but they all had a pair of tits, too. I'm not opposed to a pair of tits."

"Yeah, but there's a pair of tits, and a pair of tits, yanno?" You say, using your hands to really emphasise the point. "Anyway my ex really liked them."

"So?"

"So, I really liked that he really liked them," you shrug. It's painfully obvious to you, but Jungkook is still a little confused. "I just... The idea of someone else doing what he did to them just... makes me wanna run, yanno?"

"The fuck did he do them?" Jungkook laughs.

"Nothing obscene," you smile, though when you think about it, perhaps 'obscene' is the only way to describe how much he enjoyed them. "I guess it's more so that it was always a part of sex? Most guys I've been with pick and choose whenever they want to deal with them, but with him..."

You don't mean to trail off, but fuck. You're thinking about Seokjin, how his plump lips would trail down your throat. He'd inhale the scent of your perfume and fucking whine, only stopping to latch himself to your nipples. Would spend more time on your tits than he would any other part of your body. Spent so long once that he made you orgasm from the simulation of it all alone.

And so now they're off limits. It doesn't matter who it is. The second someone reaches for your bra, you shake your head, reposition their hands, and pretend you hate your tits being touched. It's not like it's an unreasonable lie. You know it's one of Danbi's least favourite forms of foreplay. If anything, she'd be a good match for Jungkook. In fact, now you come to think about it, she's got a cracking ass from all of her dog-walking.

Maybe you should cool the deal off. It's highly likely they're compatible. Fucking around with Jungkook would only complicate things in the future if they discovered that themselves - but you know Taehyung's interested in her, and Jungkook hasn't given any indication of interest further than friendship with her.

It's not like this is anything beyond friendship, you reason with yourself.

Jungkook stays quiet as you work through your thought process. Assumes you're skimming through traumatic memories. Doesn't realise you're actually playing matchmaker in your head for him and your best friend.

"But with him?" He asks.

You're drawn from your thoughts. Feel a little guilty. Wonder if you should really be doing this - not for your sake, but for his.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask, ignoring his question entirely.

"About?"

"Doing my birds?"

He purses his lips - and now he feels guilty, too. Funny, how you're both more concerned about one another than yourselves.

"It's entirely your choice," he says. Doesn't want you to feel pressured into it - but it just makes you feel like he feels pressured into it.

"No, but, that just feels to me as if you don't want to," you tell him. "And like, that's totally fine, if you don't, but-"

"Byeol," he says all rather plainly. "I'm the one who suggested it. If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here right now, would I? I sought you out. I came here. This is all on me."

The worry on your features softens, and he's pleased to see you smile again no matter how subtle it may be.

"Only thing I will say is that I don't actually know what 'exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, tits, excla'"—

"Kook, you don't have to say every single exclamation point."

"Right," he nods. "Well, that. I don't know what that exactly entails."

And truth be told, nor do you. So you just sigh. Press your lips together a little tighter than usual. Think about it for a moment. Draw a blank. Furrow your brows.

Jungkook looks just as perplexed as you. He's looking away, trying to find inspiration in the room around him—and when his eyes land on the 'gallery' wall where there are imitations of famous works, an idea comes to mind.

"So this is all about separating physical acts from emotional intimacy, right?" He says, and when you nod, he continues. "So what if we do something that involves"— he laughs, because he's a child. —"Touching your tits"—

"Real mature."

"Shut up. We'll do something that involves touching your tits," he has to pause so that he doesn't laugh, but you're grinning too. Just as immature as he is. "But something that isn't sexual at all."

"Alright," you muse. "I'm listening."

"You got any black paint?"

You narrow your eyes. Turn your nose up a little. Question if he's lost all of his brain cells. "Jungkook, this is an art cafe."

"I didn't wanna just assume," he feigns offence. "Are there security cameras in this place?"

"Only by the front entrance. None into the studio area."

"Okay, good. Go get some black paint and I'll get the blinds."

"No blinds," you say, nodding over the windows. "Chiffon curtains. If we turn the main lights off and just keep the lamps on, it should all be obscured. Let's just... not be too close to the windows—and what's the paint for?"

"Will tell you in a bit," he says as he heads to the windows. "Chop, chop, Byeol. We've got a fear to overcome."

You stay as you are for a moment, watching him with unrivalled wonder. There's an enigmatic energy to him that makes it seem as if he's the one constantly covered in glitter, not you. It's quite alarming that this is Jungkook operating at half capacity. His confidence was knocked quite considerably after his heart was broken, and he's yet to recover. You know this. Know that's what his birds are all about. Know that once you've worked through them with him, he'll be an unstoppable force of nature.

In the time you've known him, he's been nothing but an angel. Cocky? Yes. A little petulant? Make that incredibly petulant. And yet he's a joy to be around. Shines without the need for artificial sparkles. You envy it. Wish you could emulate it.

It's as you're getting the paint, and a few extra supplies that you'll figure you'll need - some brushes, some washcloths - that Jungkook begins to explain himself. He's drawing the curtains shut, glancing over at you every few words just to check you're paying attention.

"So I saw a video the other day - something to do with easy Halloween crafts, don't ask - and there are two options for you. One of them is quite literally painting your tits and pressing it against a canvas"—

"You are not painting my tits."

"Noted. The other one was way more family-friendly," he says, before he mulls it over and changes his mind. "Kinda. Maybe. It's a skeleton hand shirt."

"Okay..."

"It's super simple, one person covers their hands in paint and basically just grabs the other persons tits"—

"Does that mean I can grab yours too?"

"I don't have tits, I have incredibly defined pecks," he states rather sharply. "Please rephrase the question, Byeol."

You just grin. "Can I grab your tits?"

"No."

"Boring."

"Look," he smiles as he walks over to the easels where you'd been sat before. He turns the chair and sits on it backwards, arms resting over the back of it. There's a casualness to the way in which he carries himself. One that you quite enjoy. "This is a quick, easy and totally platonic way for you to have your tits touched, and it not be sexual at all."

"It'll just ruin my shirt."

"Or not," he says as he nods up to the wall where canvas sizes are displayed. There's also a plain tote bag and white tee pinned to the wall, still up from a promotion put on during the back-to-school season. It had been Hoseok's job to take them down, but he'd just broken up with his girlfriend at the time and had spent the entire week face down in the back room - getting him to do anything had been impossible - and so they remain as they were. "Would your boss notice if one went missing?"

You shake your head. Your boss really has no clue about the day-to-day goings on.

Still, you're hesitant. "If I get fired"—

"Then I'll fire Yeonjun and you can have his job," Jungkook bullshits. If he was gonna fire anyone, Yeonjun would be the last to go. "C'mon, you gotta stop stressing the small stuff, Byeol."

You're making excuses. You know you are, and so does he.

"Can we at least do it at your place?" You ask. It feels rude to invite yourself to his apartment, but it's honestly probably where you feel most comfortable. It's where the birds are, and it feels like a sanctuary for your fears. When done in the confines of his room, you're able to shut them away and never think about them again - at least not until you return.

Jungkook thinks it over. He's got no problem with it, just isn't sure if Jimin is in. He tells you as such and is met with a shrug.

"If he's in, he's in," you say. "We can just say we're working on planning an event for Tae's exhibition, say that I'm using you for cheap labour."

"Oh shit yeah," Jungkook gasps, suddenly reminded of the fact Taehyung had been here with a purpose. "How did it go? You think your boss will approve."

You nod. "Don't see why not. It's a solid pitch and we haven't held an exhibition in a while. I have some contacts saved up from our last couple of shows so can get together a guest list for the opening night."

It's more than Taehyung would have hoped for. The painting cafe is unassuming, in a way, which makes it a great underdog location for hosting such events.

"Sorry to have sent him here without warning," Jungkook adds. "I wasn't even sure if you did things like that."

"Not often," you admit. "I really enjoy them, though. I'm always keen for more."

The pair of you gather up your things and head back to Jungkook's place, talking about his friends, and their careers. You learn Taehyung is an artist by night, but a teaching assistant by day, which makes his love for arts and crafts all the more sweeter, you decide. Jimin works at a local interior design firm, which suddenly makes so much sense considering the books you remember being on his desk when you were bent over it.

Namjoon works at the local off-branch of the national paper, with a focus on environmental reporting, which is how he'd met Yoongi, who works as a sustainable carpenter, specialising in local woods and materials. Running his own studio, Mins, he'd done a promotional interview a few years back around the time it opened, and had then introduced Namjoon to the rest of the boys.

Their friendships run deep, and it's nice that Jungkook is so willing to share that part of his life with you. The way he sees it, you're well on your way to becoming a part of the group, too.

When you arrive at Jungkook's place, he enters first.

The shower is running, loud enough to obscure any noise of his arrival, so he ushers you in and straight to his room. The sneaking around is getting a little old already, but he figures soon enough it will be commonplace for you to hang out with the both of them.

Jimin isn't naive to your friendship, he just isn't aware quite how friendly you've become.

And so you keep your voices down, even when the pair of you are trying your hardest not to laugh, hands covered in paint, neither of you wanting to be the one who goes first. He's in a black shirt, so your hands are covered in white paint. You're in white, so his hands are coated in a layer of black paint instead.

It's stupid and it's juvenile, but also incredibly sweet. You appreciate how much Jungkook tries to ease you into things. Baby steps.

"No, no," you whisper. "I'll go first. On you. Easier that way."

He knows it will make it no more difficult nor easy no matter who goes when, but he understands what you're saying. It will make you feel more comfortable. Of course, he obliges.

"Stand behind me," he says quietly. "Can you see in the mirror?"

"Not really," you say. His back is broad and he's obviously far taller than you, which pretty much obscures the entire mirror. If you lean around, you can see part of it, but it makes it harder for your to get an equal placement on his chest.

"Okay, just stand straight. I'll guide you."

The way he knocks your hands into position, mostly because his are also covered in paint, is just as gentle as the tone of his voice is.

"Three, two, one," he counts down. "Now press."

You do as you're told and are confronted with potentially the firmest pecks you've ever laid your hands upon. Sure, Seokjin had a body built like a God, but Jungkook? Jesus Christ. He must be something entirely... unhuman.

"Anddd pull away," he whispers. The shirt sticks a little bit, but as your hands peel off, Jungkook smirks. "Your hands are so small."

You take great offence to this for absolutely no reason other than to bicker with him. "Says you!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't exactly have massive hands," you goad him, seeing if you can get a rise out of him, and as if by magic—

"Turn the fuck around, Byeol," he says, almost forgetting the volume control. You do as you're told, grinning like the smug little bitch you are. "Don't have massive hands? I swear you say shit just to piss me off."

"Who me?" You feign innocence. "Never."

"Yes, you," he laughs, but he makes no attempt to reciprocate the shirt creation. Instead, he holds back. Wants to make sure you're okay with it. You tell him you are, but he still doubles down on confirmation. "If it's too much at any point, just say."

You nod. Wonder if he can see the beat of your heart running through your veins. He can't. But he can see your eyes in the mirror, and recognise the trepidation they're drowning in.

"You ready?"

And again, you nod. Exhale. "Ready."

He's tentative in his approach, palms wide, fingers outstretched. He lets his palms rest on the sides of your chest first. You stop breathing for a moment.

"You okay?" He checks, to which you nod. "Okay, Byeol. We're going at your pace. The second it's too much, you let me know, okay?"

He waits for your go-ahead, and then lets his fingers squeeze into the softness of your chest. He sort of assumed he'd eclipse them like he always has done with his former partners, but he doesn't quite manage it with you. It takes him by surprise. Stops him in his tracks. Makes you nervous.

"Kook?"

Whatever trance he's in, he snaps out of it. Realigns his focus. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod. "Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he parrots back. "Just being careful."

"It's fine," you smile. "I'm not a porcelain doll—and this is fine, actually."

"It is?"

"Mhmm. This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be."

"You're welcome."

You laugh, and tell him to shut up. He squeezes ever so gently around your chest, and as much as you hate to admit it, a fucking moan is lodged in your throat. You don't let it out. Don't want him to know it feels electric having his hands on you like this. God, it's nice. It's good. Comforting. That's what surprises you the most.

You've spent so long avoiding contact like this, that you had forgotten why you liked it so much in the first place.

In fact, you find yourself pouting ever so slightly when he pulls away, revealing two black handprints cradling your tits. His is the reverse, white paint on a black shirt.

"See," he smiles. "Told you it was cool. When they're dry, we can go in with markers and outline the skeleton shapes."

The pout on your lips as you look at him is sweet, eyes full of wonder. He thinks he's only ever seen you like this when you're drunk. It's all hazy, and it's like the glitter that's normally on your cheeks is in your pupils instead.

Silence resumes in his room, both of you conscious of Jimin milling around in the kitchen. Jungkook tells you to take the shirt off —"be careful, don't let the paint touch anywhere else"— so that it can dry properly.

It's as you're both standing there half-naked with your backs to one another, that he's caught off guard.

"Let's do it."

"Hmm?"

"Let's do it," you repeat. "That first idea. The canvas. I packed one just in case and I... I didn't think we'd need it - but it wasn't entirely horrible, and-I-think-I-wanna-see-if-maybe-"

"Byeol," Jungkook laughs, cutting you off, but doesn't turn around to face you. He's still trying to be as respectful as he can be. "Breathe. If you wanna do it, we can. No biggie on my part."

"It's a biggie on my part," you say quietly.

Jungkook frowns. Doesn't like how vulnerable you sound. "I know. It's okay. We can make it not a biggie."

Your mind races at a mile a minute. You've not let anyone other than Seokjin touch your bare chest in such a long time. The idea of Jungkook doing it now makes you feel nervous, but you're ready for it. Ready to feel renewed. Ready to finally fucking let go.

"How do you want to do this?" You ask, because one decision is enough for you. You'd rather let him be in the driver's seat, now. Leave your destination unknown. Leave it up to him. You're just here for the journey. Here for the ride.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yeah," you say. You don't mind him seeing you like this - you're shirtless, but you still have a bra on. He takes a second to look at your back; how your spine trails down it. Wonders if there are dimples at the bottom of it. They'd be hidden by your trousers now, and he doesn't really remember checking after the paint party.

He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, as he heads to the curtains and draws one of them shut. The other curtain remains open, but neither of you will be standing in front of it, so he doesn't think it matters all that much.

Jungkook comes to stand behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands are on your shoulders, still a little paint-ridden, but nothing that bothers you.

"So I'm thinking," he says quietly, eyes on yours in the reflection as he toys slightly with the bra straps over your shoulders. "That this comes off."

You swallow so hard that Jungkook thinks you might choke. You don't.

But you also nod.

"Is that a yes?" He checks for consent.

"It's a yes."

His hands are slow as they stroke down your back. He's not really thinking. Just working on auto-pilot. This isn't about him. It's all about you. What you need. What you want.

"Then, I think we need more paint," he says, his fingers working to unclasp your bra. You feel the tension ping and release, and you think you might have a heart attack. He notices the change in your breathing. "If you need to stop, you just say, okay? Tell me okay?"

"Okay," you nod, knowing you're in the safest hands you possibly could be.

"What will you say? Give me a word. Something obscure. A safe word."

You shake your head and shrug, trying to think. "I don't know - chess?"

Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly where your eyes must have been focused - on the shelf by his desk, where his chess set sits undisturbed. "Okay. Chess."

"Chess."

"Just say it, and I'll stop."

You're silent as he reaches over for the paint, and tells you to toss your bra on his bed. The click of the acrylic bottle opening and closing beats in time with your heart. Jungkook's warming the paint between his hands, trying to make this as comfortable for you as he possibly can.

You're entirely bare from the waist up, and don't take much comfort in the fact that he is too. It feels a hell of a lot scarier for you, and you both know it.

"I'm gonna touch you now," he says, and waits for you to nod. You close your eyes. Bite on your lip. Wait for the contact—and when his palms softly connect, your brows knit together. Jungkook watches on, apprehensive. It almost looks like you're in pain, but as he begins to spread the paint over your breasts, they ease. "That okay?"

You nod. "It's okay."

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away - and Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch."

He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know.

It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care - he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. The girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.

Jimin's fully aware of the friendship. Knows you've been in the apartment a handful of times. Jungkook never hides it from it; just tells him after the occasion. He doesn't mind.

In fact, Jimin quite likes your company whenever he bumps into you. Is quite glad you're not weird around him just because you've had sex. If anything, it gives him high hopes that maybe you'll be up for round two on the nights he can't find anyone else. To be honest, it'd make you the perfect candidate for a friends-with-benefits type situation with him. He hasn't had one of those in a while.

He doesn't share this thought process with Jungkook. Isn't sure how well received it would be. See, Jungkook's been incredibly vocal about how embarking on a friends-with-benefits situation is potentially the stupidest thing a person can do.

He'd lost his best friend—the girl he could have spent his life with—that way. Hasn't spoken to his favourite person in months because her new boyfriend doesn't like her hanging out with people she used to fuck. Makes sense. He can't argue against it.

He can think about it in the quiet hours of the early mornings, though, and weep a little out of frustration with how fucked up the best thing in life became.

There's a naive hope within him now that thinks he's fixing his previous wrongs with you. Doing things he's already done, without taking it too far, this time. A broken heart can't fall in love, after all. It's different.

Your eyes land on his; dark and frightfully deep. He's not sure what you're thinking. Tells himself it's better that way.

"My hands," he corrects. "Eyes on my hands, Byeol. Watch what I'm doing."

It takes you a moment to pull your eyes from his - and when you do, something about it feels catastrophic. Paint covers the skin of your chest; only a few small gaps of exposed skin are still on display. He squeezes. Moves his fingers. Doesn't specifically aim to cover those spots, but know it's the end goal.

There's a muffled moan hiding in your throat; revelations of a lost pleasure that you've refused to let yourself indulge in.

"Kook-" you begin, but he hushes you.

"Just feel it. Watch it."

And so you do. His chin rests on your shoulder, watching your body, keeping an eye on the way your heartbeat begins to calm, yet races all the same. The ink on his hand is hidden by the paint, his forearms just as much of a mess as your chest. You fight your instincts which tell you to close your eyes; to lean into his touch.

The moan that's made it home in your throat decides it's been trapped for too long. It tickles at your lips, vibrates into the room. You catch it with a gasp, and Jungkook can't help but let an airy smirk fall from his lips.

He never thought you were kidding about how much you liked it, but it's different seeing it in the flesh. There's an insolent nature to his teasing, and it makes you want to fucking whine.

"How does it feel, Byeol?"

Your eyes flick up to his, your lips resting ajar. The heaving of your chest is far easier to see when he stops massaging your chest. You smirk back at him. Roll your eyes.

"You don't wanna know," you tell him, because as much as he tried to make out that none of this would be sexual, your body doesn't agree.

And honestly, nor does his.

"No," he says, closing the minuscule gap he's been keeping between his crotch and your ass. The corners of his lips twitch upwards when you feel it—feel him—press against you. "I think I do wanna know."

His smirk is laced in sin, dark eyes hazy, as your chest begins to stutter all over again. You bring your hand to rest over one of his. Encourage his movements. Let your eyes close. Don't hide the moan that travels through you.

"I thought you said this wasn't gonna be sexual," you eventually say a little breathlessly. You encourage his movements still, just to let him know you're not entirely opposed to it.

"It's not," he purrs against your ear, and presses himself against you again, a little firmer this time. His breath is hot against your skin as you lean your head back, a laboured grunt stuck now in his throat. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.

You let your eyes rest on him in the reflection. Take a moment to read his face, and decide you've no idea what this man is thinking.

Truth be told, he's not really having any cognitive thoughts.

"You're hard," you tell him.

His eyes rest shut, a bashful smile on his giddy lips, neck turning ever so slightly to rest his forehead against your hair. And then he whispers, "Don't tell me you're not wet, Byeol."

"Mhhm," you moan with a little humour. "Dry as the Sahara, buddy."

"God, if my hands weren't covered in paint-"

"You'd what?" you interrupt with a sardonic smile. "This isn't sexual, remember?"

He scrunches his face up. Looks at you. Looks at your chest. Looks away from the mirror, and down to watch his movements. He alters his pace, playing with your tits just for the fun of it, seeing how he can toy with them. It might not be what usually gets him keen, but he can see why you attract boob guys; can also understand why your ex would keep coming back if he is a boob guy.

"You ever do this to yourself? Like, for fun?" He asks, ignoring your last question, seemingly hypnotised by the overspill between his fingers, and the way it jiggles for him.

"Like non-sexually?"

"Mhhm," he says as he repositions himself. Cups the undersides of your boobs. Lets his thumbs flick against your nipples. You moan in a way he hasn't heard before. Does it again. Same result.

"Fuck," you hiss. "Yeah, I do it - fuck, Kook - for fun. Not like this though. This is"—

"Just for getting you wet?"

Yes.

"I'm not wet."

"Such a liar, Byeol."

His fingers pinch, gently clasping at your nipples. Has you mewling. Has you amazed you haven't been letting anyone do this during sex. You've been making yourself suffer to solidify your heartbreak. Maybe if you'd have been fucking people how you like to be fucked, instead of using it as a tool of validation, you'd have found the whole thing a bit easier. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'll never know.

"Are you trying to make me wet?" You challenge, eyes on him, watching the way he's watching himself.

He shakes his head. Nestles it against your hair. Likes the scent of your shampoo. Inhales a little deeper. Is breathless when he rasps, "Just helping out a friend. How your body reacts to me is its own problem."

You scoff. "My body's reaction has got nothing to do with you."

"No?" His grip tightens. You whine.

"Kook-" is all you can manage, chest heaving, heart in your throat. Your back is arching, pushing your chest further into his grasp.

He's about to mock you; about to tease you a little more. Make some dumb remark, you sure, something that will have you fighting back against him—but it's interrupted.

"Hey, Jungkook?" A voice shouts from the living room. "You in?"

The way Jungkook pulls away from you is so abrupt you almost lose balance. He pulls a shirt from his chair, chucks it in your direction without looking back and darts for the door at such speed, you wouldn't be surprised to see him in a comic book like one of his damn figurines.

He opens the door just a crack, keeping you hidden, ignoring the fact his door handle is now slathered in black paint - the corner of his pristine white wall, too.

"Hey," he squeaks as Jimin stops in his tracks. He'd just been about to reach for Jungkook's doorhandle to invite himself in, but the look on Jungkook's face tells him to stay away.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "This isn't suspicious at all."

Behind Jungkook's head, Jimin can see his bed. It's made, not disturbed in the slightest, but the way Jungkook is guarding the room makes it incredibly clear he was up to no good. It's all very amusing. Just out of his eye line is your bra.

"Was just letting you know I'm off out," he smirks. "But I'll leave you to it. Don't think I'll be back till morning, so stay safe, young padawan."

"Right," Jungkook purses his lips, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything.

Jimin doesn't care to watch Jungkook squirm. Would rather let him get back to whoever it is with him in his room. The kid's been out of action for so long that he's frankly pleased to see him acting so shifty. He's never known anyone who needs to get laid as much as Jungkook does. Hopes this means he's finally over the last girl.

He turns on his heel, but calls back, "Don't forget to wrap it up! Can't be arsed with baby-proofing the apartment."

"Jesus Christ," Jungkook mutters as he closed his door. He rests his head on the frame for a moment, before turning his head to find you in a state of absolute horror.

"Kook!" You whisper, eyes wide, heart thumping into your chest. The shirt he'd thrown at you is still on the floor because it's a white shirt, and you weren't stupid enough to actually pick it up. You kick back across to his chair, hands covering your chest without touching them. You don't want to end up as messy as he is.

Jungkook strides across to you with a scrunched-up face and just moves your arms, laughing to himself slightly as he cups your breasts in his hands. He holds them firmly. Squeezes an apology. Admittedly, you do feel more protected like this.

"Shush, shush," he coos quietly, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. His hands are temperate, but they squeeze at you a little as his shoulders lift ever so slightly. "He's not out the door yet."

There's a pause as you both wait with bated breath. There's a faint click, which Jungkook knows is the front door going, so he nods. A second click follows.

"You're safe," he laughs, and you can't help but laugh, too. Your hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, but his hands are already there, so you drop them again. His forehead rests against yours. His frivolous energy is contagious, the pair of you breathlessly giggling at the weird fucking situation you're in. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you shake your head, keeping your forehead against his, almost brushing your nose with his. "Not your fault."

"Got a little carried away, though," he whispers, his smile fading as he harshly swallows back. "Should've tapped out. I should have said chess."

You shrug. Whisper, "Takes two to tango."

The moment lingers. Wraps you both up in a ribbon, and ties a bow where his hands meet your chest. Safe and secure. A memory to be tucked away under your list of bad decisions, but for the moment, you'll convince yourself it was a good idea. You're not thinking of Seokjin, at least, and that was the real goal.

"Let's finish this off," he says, nodding over to the canvas. "We need more paint, though. I'm pretty sure I've literally, like, moisturised it into your skin. I don't think that's a good thing."

"It's definitely not a good thing," you cringe, knowing that your pores must be screaming beneath the acrylic. You wait for his grip to leave your chest, but it doesn't. It's only when you raise a brow and shake your head at him that he realises.

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah."

It's a lot more clumsy this time round. Jungkook's second-guessing himself, almost as if he hasn't just spent God knows how long grappling with your tits. He laughs, and so do you, the pair of you finding every little thing hilarious. Perhaps it's nerves, or perhaps you're trying to play this off as something totally normal between friends, but either way, you think you're glad you're with him. Glad he took a chance on your birds.

"How do we even do this?" Jungkook hums in confusion when he holds up the canvas. He puts it in all kinds of positions, but can't seem to figure out the best course of action. You tilt your head and mull it over.

"Gimmie it," you say softly, holding your hands out to retrieve it from him. His palms have left prints on the edges, but it doesn't matter. Turning to the mirror, you can't help but smile at how much of a mess you are. Such a stupid idea, and yet it's worked perfectly. "Okay, stand behind me again - keep your boner away from me this time, though."

"My God, I don't even have one anymore," he whines, and it's true. It's just a semi.

"Sure," you tease, but begin to instruct him further. "Hold them, like, underneath. How you did earlier. Yeah, yeah, that's it," you nod.

His long fingers support the base of your breasts, his thumbs resting on the sides. Chin on the top of your head, it's a lot less intimate than it had been. This, you think, could be argued as non-sexual.

A momentary lapse in judgement is fine, and that's what you'll chalk earlier up to.

It's not like there are set rules to this whole arrangement. Mistakes will be made; bad decisions, too. What matters is that you don't make the same ones twice.

"Okay," you muse quietly, holding the canvas up to your chest, trying to line it up perfectly. "I'm gonna press down. Keep still."

Jungkook doesn't dare move. Too scared you'll notice his semi and tell him off for being a randy bastard. It's circumstantial. He's never spent so long holding a pair of tits. It's just... hormones. Maybe. He isn't really sure.

Pressing the canvas against your poised chest, you apply as much pressure as you can, trying to get the imprint. You're mumbling affirmations of a good job to yourself —"Okay, good. Just a little more. Little more pressure, c'mon."—before pulling it away.

It almost peels, the paint a little tacky, but sure enough, the imprint is there, and pretty damn perfect if you do say so yourself. A pleased, albeit a little surprised, laugh escapes your lips.

"Oh, that's fucking cool," Jungkook beams. "Looks like one of those inkblot tests."

He's not wrong. There are two well-defined black circles, the imprints differing ever so slightly, smudging outwards. To you, it's plainly obvious it's a pair of tits—but then again, they are your tits. It's a lived, breathed experience of yours. Anyone else looking might mistake them for something else.

"Mmm," you agree. "What do you see?"

You're holding it up in front of you, blocking the mirror from your view. Jungkook's head dips to your shoulder, where his pointy chin rests but you don't complain. One of his structured hands eases, slipping to a more natural grasp on your boob, while the other drops. It slinks around the front of your waist, his forearm keeping your back pressed against his chest.

"Big ol' pair of titties," he says in potentially the most childish voice he could have chosen. You pull away from his grasp and give him a look of disgust. "Sorry, I mean... not a pair of tits?"

"You're a fucking child, Jeon," you scold, to which he tells you that he's actually very mature and you're just being a boring old bint. Turning back around to study it a little more, you tilt your head. It's missing something. Jungkook's grasp on you had never fully eased, but both of his hands rest now at the dips of your waist. You pay it no mind. "I think we should add to it."

"Watcha thinking?"

"Not sure," you muse. "It is a little bit too obvious."

"So you're saying it does look like a big pair of"—

"Oh my God," you groan, walking away from him and to where the paint is sitting pretty. "Lie down."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. Lie down."

You don't look at him as you say your commands, instead you spend your time picking between the paints. The silver is your favourite, but as much as he likes to wear it in the form of jewellery, you know that gold is his colour. It's the one that suits him best - or at least, suits who he is.

He's hesitant, but he does as you say. He lies on his back horizontally across the bed, like how the pair of you do when you look at the birds, one of his arms resting over his stomach. He looks up to them now, no smile on his lips, but an overwhelming sense of contentedness.

Before you, he used to look at the birds and feel guilt. Was harbouring feelings that he'd told everyone he had let go of. They're still there, but they're diluted. Too much of you filling the empty spaces for him to dwell on the birds made for her instead.

You come to perch next to him on the bed, sitting on your ankles as his gaze falls to yours with great curiosity.

"What are you doing, Byeol?"

With a smile, you say nothing - just uncap the paint lid, and turn it on its end over the top of his chest. He doesn't object. Just watches you quietly. Patiently. Hisses when the chill of the paint comes into contact with his skin, but lets you do as you please.

Capping it shut with a click, you reach over to put the paint on his bedside table. Still shirtless, Jungkook watches the way your tits move, and doesn't even try to hide it.

"Eyes up here," you say as you regain full posture, but he keeps his eyes on your tits.

"Can't. Hypnotised."

You're laughing as you roll your eyes. "Such a liar, Mr 'I'm an Ass Guy'."

He finally looks at you, almost in horror, thanks to the voice you just did impersonate him. "Is that how you think I sound?!"

"It is how you sound," you tell him, knowing that you should have deepened your voice. Instead, you'd deliberately raised it a few octaves. "I'm a voice actress in my spare time," you lie. "I've been told I have perfect pitch on many occasions. That was an exact replica of your voice."

It's said with such a straight face that it would be believable if it wasn't for the fact that Jungkook does have perfect pitch. His music teacher always tried to make him pursue a musical career, but he was fearful of failure. Didn't want to put himself out there just to get rejected.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he mutters as your finger begins to draw over his chest with the paint. "Most annoying girl I've ever met—shit"— He winces as you flick his nipple, his hand coming to rub at it almost immediately. "Byeol!"

"Hmm?" you smile. "Sorry were you saying something?"

He says nothing, just narrows his eyes at you as you get back to work, spreading the paint over his chest.

"We've already got an imprint of my tits," you muse, pressing the metallic gold into his muscles, quietly in awe over his physique. "And now I wanna get an imprint of your tits, too. Over the top of mine. I think it'll look cool."

"You mean my pecks?"

"Yeah, sure," you say. "Your tits."

"They're pecks!"

"Okay?"

"One of those birds better have 'fixing my attitude problem' on them," Jungkook huffs, but it's all in good humour. You tell him your attitude is golden—just like his tits are. "They're fucking pecks!"

Reaching over for the canvas, your golden palms are just clumsy as his had been, leaving little marks on the edge of the canvas. Laughter fills his room as you try and decide how to place it, with the pair of your twisting and turning the canvas to try and figure out your best bet. You don't want to obscure your tits entirely, but his chest is broad.

"Don't think you thought this through," Jungkook teases. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my chest."

You flick his nipple again.

"Jesus Christ! One more time and I'll"—

Oh, how you love a threat. Can't wait to see if it's a promise.

And so you flick the other.

"Right, that's it."

It'd be a lie if you said you knew exactly where he flung the canvas - you were too busy trying to avoid his grasp as he got to his feet - but there are only so many places you can run to in his room.

In fact, you only actually get about three steps away by the time his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his grasp. The paint on his chest is slick against your back, but he doesn't really think about it as he turns you around, pressing you up against the window that doesn't have the curtain pulled shut.

His large hand clasps both of your wrists, holding them above your head just to keep them away from his damn nipples. The chase was minimal, the catch far too easy - and yet you're both breathless. Chests heaving. Your nipples are gilded in gold. He's far too fucking close.

"Kook"—

"What did I say about flicking my nipples?" He looks down at you, desperately trying not to smirk. The anger he's feigning is convincing, but even if he was furious, he's painted like a chryselephantine statue. In all fairness, he's got the body to match. A Greecian God if you ever did see one.

"Can't help it," you pout. "Your tits are just so perky."

He doesn't even insist on the fact they're pecks this time. Just lets his eyes drop to your tits, then back to your eyes. Repeats this four or five times. Shakes his head.

"If that's the metric we're going with, Byeol, then you're well overdue half a dozen nipple flicks."

"Nooo," you whine, squirming to get out of his grasp. He doesn't let you immediately, but ultimately decides it's for the best. Needs to calm himself down. Can't be having another repeat of the night before.

As soon as his grasp eases, you bolt away from him, and retrieve the canvas from the foot of his bed. He notices the gold on his window, and ignores it. Will deal with it later. It's an easy fix. A logical one.

For now, he's got a half-naked force of a woman in his room that he doesn't know how the fuck to deal with. No logic, no reason, no rhyme seems to help him figure you out.

"Please can we finish the canvas?" you say sweetly, as if you haven't been the one derailing things every single step of the way.

He says nothing. Spread his arms wide. Beckons you forward.

Pressing the canvas to his chest, you throw all of your deliberations out of the window. You don't really care for the outcome, now. Just know that the pair of you need to not be topless anymore.

It's platonic, yeah, but it is tempting.

The canvas peels much like it did when your impression was made, the paint tacky on his skin. The pair of you are dumbfounded as you take in the result for the first time.

It's fucking beautiful.

Metallic gold weaves around the black, overlaying ever so serenely, creating an abstract interaction between the shapes.

"What do you see now?" you ask softly, quietly proud of your creation together.

"I see a masterpiece," he grins, and that arm of his that likes hooking around your waist so much finds its favourite spot once more. His chin is on your head. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Look there"— he points to a small 'v' shape, just above the imprint of your chest that's free of gold. "Looks to me like a bird."

"Holy shit."

"A fear set free," he muses.

"Well done us," you beam, holding your hand up for him to high-five. He does so with ease, before reaching for the canvas and propping it up on his desk.

"C'mon," he grips onto your shoulders. Eases you forward and to his bedroom door. Reaching round to open it, he lets his hands fall to your waist, and then back up to cup your tits as you walk together. "Shower."

"Are you ever gonna let go of them now?" You laugh, finally pointing out just how bloody handsy he is.

"Don't think so."

"Brilliant."

He eventually does let them go as you're both washing your hands beneath the tap of his bathroom sink.

"Got a little paint in your hair," Jungkook says as you're drying your hands. He goes to twiddle at it in an attempt the break the dry paint down. It's not a lot, but it does mean you'll need to wash your hair to avoid the bleached strands from staining.

"Shit," you curse, knowing that Jungkook definitely won't have any silver shampoo, nor will he have anything more than a bog-standard conditioner.

"Hold on," he says, moving you to the side to rummage in the cupboard beneath the sink. There's a small clatter of bottles as he pulls a basket from the back of the shelf with a triumphant smile.

It's a grin that's quietly pleased, lips thin, pressed together, lip ring flipping in that way which always makes you smile. The basket itself is just as interesting as Jungkook's face—a myriad of coloured tubes, and lo-and-behold, the same brand of silver shampoo you use.

"Jimin had a phase," he explains. "Well, no actually, he's had a few - but this is from the coloured hair phase. You need the purple shit, right?"

You nod. "The purple shit."

"Take what you need," he says as he gets back to his full posture, leaving the room only to return a moment later with a bottle of conditioner in hand. You know the brand. It's pricey. You only buy it when it's on sale. You furrow your brows, and he just shrugs. "I keep my good towels out of the bathroom, Jimin keeps his good conditioner out of it instead."

It's funny, 'cause you do exactly the same. Danbi has been blessed with hair from the Gods, so never has to pay much attention to what she uses. A string of bad dye jobs and unhealthy heat habits have left you with a deep conditioning complex, and there's nothing worse than going for a shower and realising the conditioner you paid and an arm and a leg for is all gone.

Will this stop you from using Jimin's special conditioner? No, absolutely not. You care more about your hair than you do about his annoyance.

"How are we doing this?" You ask casually as Jungkook starts the shower up.

"Well," he contemplates far too hard for the sentence that follows. "I think we get in the shower, and then I think we... shower?"

"Right," you nod, as he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Silly me. Of course it's that simple."

"Well it can be," he shrugs. "We both know we didn't really do the shower bird to completion, and aren't we saying 'fuck it', now? So why not?"

He's got a point. You feel far less on edge about the whole showering thing since the last time. It's like you've been working through it in stages, and it's helped.

"So..." you say quietly. "I don't know about you, Kook, but I normally shower naked."

He just shrugs. "Really, Byeol? Do you not think we've already crossed that boundary? I'm quite literally staring at your tits right now."

You look down to your exposed chest, and suppose he's right.

"Just... don't look, okay? You get in the shower first and like, face the wall or something."

As much as he thinks you're being ridiculous and that it really doesn't matter, he agrees. Your birds are, after all, all about you, and what you're comfortable with. Just because he is doesn't mean you will be.

He strips down, and discards his clothes into a pile. He'd be lying if he said he was entirely confident, but he definitely feels the pressure a lot less than you do.

"I'm in," he says encouraging you to follow suit.

Against your better judgement, you do.

You toss your trousers on top of his, panties too, and make your way into his shower. It's warm, just the right temperature, still set to Jimin's preference from earlier.

"Now was that so hard?" Jungkook asks, still facing the wall.

"No," you say airily. "I can see why you're an ass guy."

He turns his head, and sure enough, your eyes are on his ass. "Double standards."

"It's really good," you say, a little in shock at just how toned it is; how you'd kill for yours to be as peachy as his. "But you're right, you're right - I'm sorry."

"Can I at least turn around now?" He asks. "Seeing as you've already broken rule number one."

"What rule?!"

"Looking! You set the bloody rule!"

"Oh yeah," you grimace. Part of you considers turning around, but in all honesty, you don't want his ass-loving eyes to fall on yours and be disappointed. "Um, yeah. Sure. You can turn."

He's cupping his balls as he does so, hiding himself. It's sort of sweet in a way, and matches your own awkward stance.

"C'mon," he says, knocking his head back, encouraging you further into the stream of water. "Need to wash you off."

"You need to?"

"Well, yeah? Only fair. I'm the one who got you like that." He senses your hesitation, and offers you an out. "Or you can do it. I don't mind either way."

And for some reason, you don't actually seem to mind the suggestion. "Go for it."

He steps a little closer. "Say the word and I'll stop."

You reach for his hands. Lift them to your chest. "I don't think I'll say it."

He begins to massage at them, easing the paint off ever so gently, but it's stubborn. "Could do with some shower gel. Scent preference?"

"Hmm, strawberry?"

"Great choice."

You still find the fact he has more than one shower gel on the go hilarious, but you enjoy having a choice. It's one of the fantastic things about Jungkook; you're never backed into a corner. He'll always give you an option. A way out.

And yet as he gets reacquainted with your chest, you don't think you want one. The things that scared you before - forgetting Seokjin, losing his touch - seem like a world away. Yes, it's different with Jungkook, but it doesn't mean that it erases what you had with Seokjin. It also doesn't mean that you have to subject yourself to a life of boring sex just because you're harbouring guilt from a relationship breakdown that really wasn't your fault at all.

Seokjin had strayed, though. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Had you questioning the things you thought he'd loved about you - your tits included.

Seeing how Jungkook - a self-professed ass guy - reacts to them has been so validating. So needed. Will do you wonders in the future, you're sure.

It's as he's kneading at your tits that you notice he's becoming a little moany, too. A little unstrained. God, it's so satisfying.

He closes his eyes. Rests his forehead on yours. Squeezes around your tits as he swallows so harshly you think you can almost hear it. Nods, and then says, "Still an ass guy—but fucking hell, Byeol. You might convert me."

You laugh now, and Jungkook is obsessed with the way your boobs slide beneath his fingers, sopping wet and moving in time with your body. He still doesn't open his eyes.

"Fun aren't they?"

Again, he just nods. Doesn't wanna think about anything too hard.

If he does, he knows he'll have to deal with the fact his cock is now hard, too.

He thanks the high heavens that you just aren't mentioning it, because there's no way you haven't noticed.

It's not like he meant for it to happen. One moment he was trying to be respectful, and the next all he could think about it how soft and warm they are in his grasp. Was all beyond his control.

Thing is, Jungkook has no idea how hard it is for you to resist reaching down for it. It feels like second nature; like it's what you should do.

But it's a boundary that's still intact, and you'd like to keep as many of those as possible.

So would he - but he's fucking solid, throbbing, balls tight. Can't remember the last time he got like this. Sure he's been hard. Been horny. But this is on another level.

And so he just says fuck it.

Tells you so.

"Byeol if I don't cum in the next five minutes I think I'm gonna die."

His admission takes you by surprise. You want to laugh, but remain deadly serious as you say, "I think you'll be fine."

"No," he insists. "I will actually die."

"How?"

"Ruptured ballsack?" He grimaces. "I don't know, but I do know that my life is quite literally flashing before my eyes right now."

"Poor baby," you pout, and stroke at his hair just to wind him up a little bit more.

"Don't," he whines. "I'm one more sarcastic comment away from sucking your tits just to shut you up. You know how many pairs of tits I've sucked?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "None. Always thought it was weird. But now? I'm so horny I'm literally delirious. Willing to do anything."

Yeah right, you think.

"That's not very platonic of you," you state, using the exact tone of voice you know is winding him up.

"Byeol, I said one more."

"One more what?"

"God," he lets out a tortured sob. "It's like you want me to suck your tits."

"Me? Want that? Never."

"But it wasn't on the bird," he says, as if the birds really do dictate every single one of his actions. "Can't do it."

"In all fairness, Kook, nor was anything else that happened tonight. It was literally just the word 'tits'."

He tries to think straight, but he really can't. Doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just never knew how much he liked tits. Either way, he's absolutely done for.

He runs his thumbs over your nipples, and—fuck—the way you moan really does have him wanting to take them in his mouth. It's always been a no-go for him. Always thought the concept was a bit weird.

But it's all he can think about, now.

All he wants.

"Oh my god," he whines, again, obviously going through a little inner turmoil. His forehead drops to your shoulder. "Why do I want it? Why do I wanna suck your tits?"

"Mummy issues."

"Byeol! You're not helping."

"Just get yourself off," you laugh. "Once you get the orgasm out of you, you'll be able to think straight."

He nods. Knows you're right. "What about you? Do you need to?"

You've a much better grasp on your desperation than he does. You're a brat through and through, and find it hilarious that men seem to think they 'tame' you. In reality, you're the one who calls the shots. You're always in control. Just let them think they are.

With Jungkook, you've not needed to play up for him, so you don't realise how unaware he is of the fact your inner thighs are coated in your slickness.

"Can do," you shrug.

"That's not a yes."

You roll your eyes. "Look at me."

He does as he's told, and you decide very quickly that he would be so incredibly easy to turn into your bitch if you wanted him to be. It's cute. His lips are parted, brows pushed together, a crease forming above his nose. He really does look like he might die. Poor baby.

Dipping your hands to where your legs part, you run two fingers along your folds, and hold them up for Jungkook to see. You separate your fingers, the clear fluid suspended between the two of them. He whines again. Rests his head on your shoulder.

"The bird," he says. "The bird that we kinda did, but didn't do."

"What of it?" you toy, knowing exactly what he wants.

"Can we?" He rasps, unable to get his sentence out. One of his hands is on your chest, the other pressed flat to the tiles beside your head. His cock is desperate for contact. His hips are pulsing against nothing. If he doesn't grip onto it soon, he's gonna rut too far and end up touching you.

"You wanna get off together?"

He just nods. Mewls. "Please just give me the green light, Byeol. Please."

And as much as you want to keep fucking with him, it feels cruel now. His veins are engorged, flooded with blood, in desperate need of him to do something - anything - to have his heart beating normally again.

"Okay," you whisper. "Get yourself off."

He doesn't waste a second. Has his hand around his cock by the time you've finished the sentence. The change in his breathing is stark. There's a moan caught with every tug on his cock, his hand moving at a speed you didn't was humanely possible.

And it excites you.

Has you clasping the tit that he isn't currently holding onto for dear life, while your other hand sinks to your folds. You're soaked, clit throbbing, begging for even the faintest bit of attention. When Jungkook hears you moan too, he thinks he's done for. Holds his cock so tight he's scared he'll ruin his orgasm.

You know your body though. Know how to get yourself off within a minute when duty calls.

"Keep going," you tell him. "I can get close."

"That quickly?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Women are magic," you say between pants, dipping your fingers into your entrance for a little bit of fiction to your g-spot, just enough to really get you there.

"Fucking magic," he husks, his body edging a little closer to yours. You don't mind. In fact, you think you'll prefer it, so you let go of your chest and encourage him to close the gap. Your hand is on his waist, pulling him closer. He looks up. Regrets it, 'cause he never needed to see you looking like this. Doesn't ever wanna fuckin' look away. "Sure?"

"Mhhm," you moan, unable to get a word out because of how close you are—and then you can feel the tip of his cock press against your stomach, just below your ribcage. His movements are frantic.

"I'm not gonna last."

"Then don't."

His forehead rests on yours, the pair of you breathing so heavily that you're basically surviving on one another. Inhale, exhale. You're one and the same.

"Oh, fuck," you mewl, so incredibly close. Your fingers massage at your pussy just how you like it; spank against your clit a little, tease it to the near point of no return. "Kook, I'm about to"—

"Me too," he chokes. "Where?"

"It's fine," you husk, knowing he's asking where to cum. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"Sure?"

"Just fucking cum, Kook. Cum on me."

"Shit."

The release is just as undignified as the build. The pair of you are messes, whining as you come undone together. The voltage runs from the tips of your toes to the tops of your fingers, so intense that they go fucking numb for a moment. You're overstimulated almost as soon as it hits, unable to do anything but pant against his shoulder.

The tip of Jungkook's cock is pressed against your skin, his release painting you in the most glorious sin. He cums, but it feels like it never stops. Every time you think it has, he whines again, wanks a little more, unloads another spurt onto your torso. It trails down your hip, to your thigh and then sinks to the shower floor; washed away like a bad decision never to be repeated.

Breathlessness overcomes the pair of you, remaining as you are for a few moments, until Jungkook finally breaks it.

"I swear I never usually cum that fast."

You just laugh. Pat his head. "Sure."

"Fuck off, I don't," he says, laughing now too. "Christ. What the fuck was that, Byeol?"

He lifts his posture from how it's rested against you, turning to press his shoulders to the tiles beside you. The shower is still running, so he reaches over to turn it off. Neither of you are fully clean yet, but you'll get back to it in a moment. No point in running his water bill up just because he can.

"Well," you exhale. "I think you just discovered boobs."

He laughs. Tilts his head back against the tiles. Bites his lips as he shakes his head. "To be fair, I think you might be right."

You laugh now too, and that's how the evening remains; full of laughter. Jokes about how platonic and totally friendly the entire exchange has been. There's no weirdness, but in all honesty, you never thought there would be.

Jungkook lends you a pair of sweats and one of his shirts after the shower, your hair air drying beautifully thanks to Jimins oh-so-expensive conditioner. You feel a little bad for using it now, but you made him cum once, so you think you're even.

"And when Jimin asks where it's come from?" You question as you watch from Jungkook's sofa while he hangs your artwork up on the wall. It's next to the television. Really fucking hard to miss. Will be the first thing he notices.

"I'll just say it's one of Tae's," Jungkook shrugs.

"And when Tae comes round?"

"I'll... think of another lie?"

"Sounds foolproof," you muse, sipping on your glass of water, thinking that he's possibly the biggest idiot you know.

"Either way, neither of them will know what it is, or who made it. It'll be a mystery. Wait, unless," he stops himself. Furrows his brows together. Tries to join dots in his head. Even uses his hands to help with the mental work. "Would Jimin be able to tell?"

Your lips purse up, forming a thin line between your cheeks. You shake your head.

"No?"

"No," you say. "He never... Well, I meant what I said about them. Keeping them off limits. Or at least, kept."

"Yeah," Jungkook nods, accepting your truth, but thinking of hypotheticals. "Did he not see them, like, at all?"

"Um," you say to buy time, questioning how much you should divulge. "You really wanna know?"

Jungkook shrugs. Nods his head again. Makes no difference to him.

You adjust in your seat, trying to think of how to phrase the events of your night with Jimin, and finally settle on, "Well, I was fully clothed"—

"What?"

—"And we did it from behind." You watch as Jungkook stays silent for a moment. He's doing that thinking face of his again. The hand is moving. Figuring things out. And then you realise what he's doing. "No! Gross! Don't imagine it!"

"I'm just trying to get a visual!" He protests with a small pout. "Just trying to understand how!"

"My god," you cringe, hiding your head in your hands. "Never should have done that bird with you."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he comes to sit beside you, admiring his handiwork. He actually really likes the painting. Is glad you added him to it, too.

"Yes, you should have," he says. "You admitted it yourself, you kept your tits off-limits, but it's clearly a big part of sex for you, right?"

You nod, not looking at him, but up at the canvas. It really is pretty. "Right."

"If you could do all that with me, you can do it with anyone else. It'll make a huge difference to how satisfying you find casual sex, which is like, the whole goal, right?"

And again, you nod.

"Exactly," he beams. "Now, say 'thank you Jungkook'."

"I'm not saying thank you," you laugh. "You literally got cum on my feet. You should be thanking me."

"Oh my god," he groans. "I'm never showering with you again."

"It wasn't the shower that was the issue!"

The pair of you bicker a little more, until the reality of it being the early hours of the morning kicks in. You're both yawning, hardly able to keep your eyes open. He offers up his bed, but you'd feel guilty taking it two nights in a row, so call for a taxi instead.

You're still in his clothes, but you'll just return them the inevitable next time.

He tells you to let him know when you get home safe, and you do, only for him to reply a few minutes later with a message that makes you consider blocking him.

Jungkook: Still an ass guy, btw.

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