#(thanks to the nature of fantasy names they are all very gender neutral names too)

[sleepingdeath-light]

Can we get some otis driftwood stuff please

Smut Headcanons | Otis Driftwood (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as gender neutral

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

note : i went with some smut hcs because you didn’t specify (also this got very long - i offer no apologies, i am a massive simp for this man lol) so yeah… feel free to send in more otis requests haha

relevant links : masterlist | slasher blog

very much so a given, but otis is a massive sadomasochist with strongly dominant leaning tendencies - particularly those of a cruel/mean dom

like he enjoys beating the shit out of his partners and having his partners cut him up and all of that, but he will not ever let up control - him being the one in charge is non negotiable, i’m afraid

doesn’t give a shit if anyone sees or hears you when you’re having sex and is more than happy to show off who you belong to if a victim’s getting too handsy for his taste - whether that manifests as a lewd makeout session in the living room whilst still working on lowering their guard or if he straight up brutally fucks you in front of them when they’re tied up and as good as dead

incredibly possessive by nature so expect to receive plenty of marks - including both more temporary ones (bruises, black eyes, bite marks, burns, cuts, hickeys, etc.) and more permanent ones (like a tattoo or brand of his name or his artwork that he designed specifically for you)

related to the above, definitely gets an ego boost if you affirm that you’re his - his partner, his fuck toy, his property - when you’re having sex

but he also enjoys when you’re possessive of him and affirm that he belongs to you as well - and not just because it usually leads to some rough sex and power-play where he reaffirms your places in the bedroom

has a naturally filthy mouth but it gets so much worse when it comes to the bedroom - like his dirty talk is on another level

he’ll call you his filthy, desperate little cocksleeve, his obedient cum pet and his pathetic sex toy in the same breath that he instructs you on exactly how to ride him or suck his cock - all the while praising how good you feel and how you look so damn pretty with all those bruises on you

big on hair pulling and choking as a way to exert his control over you - especially when he’s taking you from behind (either grabbing your hair or your throat to force you back against him as he utters all sorts of deprived comments and fantasies into your ear)

breath play is another favourite of his and he loves seeing the fear in your eyes when you’re unsure whether he’s going to let you go or let you die - especially when he’s keeping you from breathing through your nose when he’s fucking your face or when he’s got one hand around your neck whilst he’s fucking you hard and fast against whatever surface he can find

blood play? blood play.

yours, his, a victims; it doesn’t matter! he thinks you look hot as fuck when you’re covered in blood and he’s not ashamed of that - which you can definitely tell from the look on his face and the prominent hard-on he’s packing between his legs

would definitely be open to pet play - in that you’re his pet and he’s your owner - but this will only encourage him to amp up his teasing bullshit to a ten

like you’re not moaning or whining for attention, you’re barking/yapping/mewling and he needs you to zip it if you want a treat (and he will ignore you until you quiet down)

he’ll have you sat on the floor beside him when he eats or works, keeping you as exposed as possible with a leash and collar around your neck at all times

otis will do anything to demean you and emphasise your role as his pet, really

impact play is something he’d bring into the bedroom, but he’d only ever use his hands rather than a toy: spanking, slapping you across the face, punching your abdomen, etc.

loves seeing you all bloodied and battered and covered in a mixture of your cum and his; he’s definitely tried to replicate it in his art on multiple occasions but, much to his frustration, he can never seem to get it quite right

would definitely enjoy roleplay scenarios that involve him hunting and trapping you, especially if it revolves around his daily life as a killer - e.g. cnc and predator-prey where you pretend to be an innocent bystander within a group baby lured in

doesn’t moan so much as he grunts, groans and growls - usually this involves cusses, degradation, degrading-praise, instructions, your name and other such things

gets especially loud if you start cutting and biting at him because he enjoys the pain

definitely the type to brag about how good of a sex life he has to others, parading you around as something that they can see but they sure as shit can’t touch - no, that’s just for him - with the cockiest grin on his face when he does so

unquestionably a fan of drugged up and intoxicated sex - and probably becomes a much more gentle, affectionate and giggly partner when he’s inebriated

like, he’s still otis and he’s still rough with you, but when he’s high he just wants to be close to you and talk about how good you make him feel - laughing because he’s absolutely out of it whilst simultaneously manhandling you to keep you exactly where he wants you whilst you ride him into a state of complete and utter bliss

he’s happy to go down on you but he’s very bitey and will leave you in tears and screaming before long - like he’ll have a vice-like grip on your hips as he forces you to sit against his mouth and he ruins you with his tongue and teeth

he’s giving you what he wants so the least you can do is stay there and let him have his fun as well - that’s what he insists, at least

despite all of this roughness and pain play, however, otis does genuinely care about you and your well-being and would never do anything to put that at risk - he knows his limits and knows how to be rough without actually killing you, don’t worry

though he’d be caught dead before ever openly admitting something so lovey-dovey

so you’d definitely need a solid safe word and safe action with him if you want to be intimate and once either is used he’ll stop dead and will rip on you a bit but he’ll do his best to make sure that you’re alright before letting you get your rest whilst he goes back to whatever it was he was doing before you started

#sleepingdeath #reader insert #hcs #headcanons #gender neutral reader #smut #smut headcanons #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher smut #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood smut #minors dni

[cilil]

Do you have any Yandere Irmo headcanons?

𝓐𝓝 ~ Sure do! I'll go over my general yandere Irmo ideas in this one. Side note: A lot of these can also be applied to nightmare!Irmo as they're similar in their manipulative, predatory nature.

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~ Gender-neutral pronouns are used in reference to whoever Irmo is pursuing, so it's up to the reader's imagination ♡

𝓣𝓦𝓼 ~ Yandere, obsessive behavior, manipulation

𐀔 Both Fëanturi are a more neutral force in the world. It's more evident with Námo than with Irmo, however: Just like there are dreams and nightmares, there are also darker sides to sweet, kind and joyful Irmo.

𐀔 Desire is in his name, and desire he does indeed, very passionately so in fact. He's used to getting what he wants, thanks to his boundless charisma, and won't be dissuaded easily once he decides there's something - or someone - he wants.

𐀔 To any prospective lover, Irmo would seem nothing but sweet and caring. He would invite them to Lórien to relax and unwind and use the opportunity to watch them carefully to find out about their deepest and most secret desires; and if they don't reveal them to him willingly, they might unwittingly do so in their dreams.

𐀔 Irmo visits the dreams of others often and with an air of careless innocence that makes his appearances almost seem like accidents, but this is very much an illusion. He knows his way around the unseen realm like few others and has perfect control over dreams, be it his own, the shaping of dreams that he plants in the minds of others or the manipulation of other people's dreams.

𐀔 And thus, any (un)fortunate person he wishes to claim as his lover would have their deepest desires and most hidden fantasies coaxed out of them through their dreams and twisted according to Irmo's design, so they may further his goals. He may show them romantic encounters, him pleasuring them like no one else can, sometimes even an entire life spent together to plant a seed of longing in their heart - a longing that he would be too happy to fulfill, should they ever ask.

𐀔 Conversely, Irmo may also manipulate their thoughts and feelings to make them hate or fear other people who stand in the way of him having his love all to himself - be it through carefully placed comments or visions and nightmares he designed for that purpose.

𐀔 Seeing through the facade of Irmo's sweet persona is nearly impossible and requires an extraordinary level of insight and resistance to the manipulation of others - or a mistake on his part. As emotionally intelligent and skillful in all things related to mind and spirit as Irmo is, he himself has strong emotions and can be impulsive. His control over himself has improved over the ages, but it's not always perfect.

𐀔 However, even if the person he's pursuing manages to see through his many deceptions, they would have a hard time finding help and support. To most other inhabitants of Valinor, the idea of sweet little Irmo doing bad things and hurting someone is simply inconceivable - and even if he has done something to them in the past, that memory has long been erased.

𐀔 And so, he most likely will end up with his darling in his arms anyway, binding their soul to his until the end of time.

#cílil anwers #irmo #lorien #yandere!irmo #dark!irmo #silmarillion #ainur #valar #headcanons #my headcanons #tw yandere #cw yandere #cw manipulation

[retroaria]

Sapnap: Fluff Alphabet

cc!Sapnap x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

warnings: just swearing

here’s my 500 Follower Event ^o^

A is for Affection (How do they like to show affection?)

sapnap would give you so many compliments omg. he loves making you all smiley and blushy :) he just wants to make sure that you are always aware of the fact that he thinks you’re the most perfect thing to ever exist

B is for Bond (What kind of bond do you guys have? What could your relationship be labeled as?)

the best friend couple!!! sapnap tells you literally everything. any drama going on or any strong emotions he’s feeling, you know about it. most of the time, the second something happens his brain immediately goes “omg i have to tell y/n”. you guys always complain about the same things and get excited over the same things. you are genuinely one of the most important people in his life and he doesn’t know how he’d do it without you.

C is for Comfort (How do they comfort their s/o?)

he will literally drop everything just to hold you and not speak for like hours if you so needed. he strikes me as a naturally comforting person to the people he really cares about so I say he gets an A+ in this department

D is for Dates (What are dates with them like?)

dates with sapnap are either really chill or super fun. he’s the type of guy that would take you to play laser tag or to an arcade or a trampoline park. he’s like a little kid i love sapnap :3

E is for Emotions (How do they express their emotions around you?)

he’s a pretty expressive person when it comes to certain things. at the very least he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve a little so it isn’t hard to tell even if he does try hiding stuff. and like I said he tells you everything.

F is for Fiancé (How long into the relationship before they propose?)

I feel like he’s so young and he really just wouldn’t be thinking about that too seriously for awhile. like he loves you and you guys have talked about having a future together but he isn’t in any rush at all. hell just do it when he feels is the right time not matter how long it takes.

G is for Gentle (Are they gentle?)

it depends on the situation. he’s definitely the type of guy to pick you up from a super comfy position and just body slam you on the bed. but if he can tell you’re not in the mood to play around like that he’ll just sit down and hold you, so yeah he can be gentle. but most of the time be prepared for playful fist fights and getting picked up and thrown every now and then lol.

H is for Hand Holding (How do they like hand holding?)

sapnap always holds your hand. in fact he makes an effort to search for it whenever you aren’t holding hands. and sometimes he’ll even get whiny about it especially with like a lot of people around he’ll be like, “babe, why aren’t you holding my hand :( what if I get lost how are you gonna find me this place is big”

I is for I Love You (Who said “I love you” first?)

he did !! the first time sapnap said “I love you” was probably one of his most confident moments. he was so proud to be able to say it and so sure of himself and his feelings for you.

J is Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

YES OH MY GOD. he gets super jealous and it’s so easy to tell omg. his attitude starts to get like super bad and he is very clearly annoyed by the situation. he won’t ever be too overbearing about it and if you ever feel like he is once you sit him down and explain that he’ll back off a bit. but he’s still gonna be bothered by it so just always remind him that he love him and no one else.

K is for Kiss (What’s kissing them like?)

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IM ACTUALLY GOING TO BE DESCRIPTIVE SO IM SORRY IF ITS CRINGE. anyways, he’d be a pretty deep kisser but not like full on making out every single time. he just likes to make them last and he isn’t one to just give you random kisses all throughout the day so it always feels special. kissing him makes you feel all warm and happy inside.

L is for Love Language (What’s their love language?)

sapnaps love language is quality time or acts of service!! i’d say mainly quality time. even while long distance he just likes having you on call while he does stuff or even just complaining to you about how tired he is while actively not going to bed so he can keep talking to you lol. he just likes having you around it’s a huge comfort for him. i say acts of service because he would get so giddy and happy anytime you did something special for him. he would show it off and brag about it forever and it would genuinely mean so much to him aahhajdxh i love sapnap

M is for Memories (Their favourite memory with their s/o?)

For your first time seeing each other irl, sapnap flew to where you live and you guys spent a whole week together. his favorite memories are definitely from that first week of seeing each other in person. of course you guys already had an amazing relationship while long distance, but there’s something so different about finally meeting the person you’re with in real life. it felt like he had to start over from scratch and you guys had to get to know each other all over again. also the idea of now having to build a physical bond. it was just such an amazing and beautiful experience. definitely the one that made him realize he really is in love with you.

N is for Nicknames (Their favourite nicknames given and received?)

IM SO BAD AT THINKING OF CUTE NAMES USHSJDH. probably just babe tho lol. for fem!readers, i can totally picture him using princess in a slightly sarcastic tone.

O is for Open (At what point do they start opening up to you about their life and feelings?)

mmm i’d say he actually starts opening up to you pretty early into the relationship. If you guys were like really close friends before hand he’s definitely already opened up to you. He doesn’t really have that many people in his life that he doesn’t trust.

P is for PDA (Are they into PDA?)

not really but he isn’t like super shy about it if that makes sense ??? like he’s 100% fine with hand holding, hugging, and light pecks when saying hello or goodbye.

Q is for Quiz (How much do they remember about you?)

I don’t think he really tries to remember stuff but he just does and he’s always making connections to you and things he sees and stuff it’s so cute :)

R is for Romantic (How romantic are they?)

he tries but he isn’t exactly the most romantic boy. like I said before you guys have a best friend type of connection so when it comes to romance he doesn’t go too above and beyond because he just doesn’t feel like he needs to. but on special occasions he will do something nice for you. He likes taking you out places !!

S is for Security (How protective/possessive are they?)

very much of both. once again, total sapnap vibes. i’d say he’s a lot more possessive than protective. he would never stop you from doing things like going out without him and having guy friends or making flirty jokes. he trusts you so much partly cus he’s a little narcissistic LMAO. but when a serious threat comes about he can get kinda crazy.

T is for Try (How much effort do they put into the relationship?)

GAAAAAA HE PUTS SO MUCH EFFORT IN!! you would probably be like his first ever serious partner so he would try his best at literally everything. in the beginning of the relationship you could totally tell how nervous he was at times but as you guys got more comfortable he just became an effortlessly amazing bf

U is for Uphold (How do they show you they’re proud? What kind of support do they give you?)

he talks about you so muchjahsjxjxh mostly to dream and george or on stream and he brags about you too. he can get pretty cocky about it but his friends can’t get mad because it’s literally adorable how whipped he is.

V is for Vaunt (Do they like to show off?)

YES OF COURSE !!! it’s sapnap guys…come on. literally any little accomplishment you make is turned into a way bigger deal than it should be because of him. he’s so proud of for literally just existing and he talks about all the cool stuff you’ve done all the time

W is for Wild Card (A random fluff headcanon.)

you guys really like going to different food places and eating different items compared to other places. THIS IS SO RANDOM LMAOO but like…sapnap would definitely have fun doing that

X is for X-ray (How well can they read you and your emotions/feelings?)

mmm he can usually tell if you’re acting strange or being distant. he cant always figure out exactly what’s wrong but he knows it’s something and he would confront you about it like almost immediately or whenever he thought would be a good time for you

Y is for Yearning (How much do they miss their s/o when they’re gone?)

he literally talks about you non stop when you’re apart. and when you guys are on the phone he comes up with all these plans for you guys to do when you see each other again and he always wants you to join vc on his streams if you can. in conclusion he misses you like crazy

Z is for Zebra (What kind of pet would they want with their s/o?)

A CAT!! or like a bearded dragon lol.

IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN GONE FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS HAGSKDHD

school is literally kicking my ass so hard man 😔

i’m gonna try to write more, working on a karlnap weed fic rn too LMAO

I’m taking a major creative writing class rn so between writing for school and writing for tumblr i am so drained but i promise i’ll get back into the swing of things soon :)

love you guys, thank you for everything and stay safe <333

@crackityy @fantasy-innit @joyfullymulti @k-l-a-w-s

#mcyt headcanons #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #sapnap preferences #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #sapnap headcanons #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader #sapnap fanfic

[gukyi]

for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem. 

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies. 

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other. 

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture. 

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime. 

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left. 

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly. 

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it. 

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against. 

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer. 

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered. 

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing. 

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like. 

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright. 

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar. 

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever. 

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be. 

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet. 

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place. 

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you. 

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place. 

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart. 

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it. 

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen. 

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully. 

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you. 

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes. 

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal. 

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades. 

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle. 

Maybe another day. 

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself. 

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor. 

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view. 

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back. 

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room. 

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case. 

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of. 

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly. 

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given. 

You’ve been replaced. 

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch. 

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity. 

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with. 

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something. 

You’re determined to figure out what it is. 

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home. 

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can. 

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway. 

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons. 

“So it seems,” you say bitterly. 

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good. 

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you. 

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process. 

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did. 

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine. 

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over. 

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again. 

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour. 

Just your luck. 

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room. 

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time. 

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent. 

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party. 

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different. 

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack. 

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this. 

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s. 

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment. 

And then, out of nowhere, 

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths. 

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you. 

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding? 

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?” 

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor. 

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable. 

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom. 

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment. 

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it. 

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it. 

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.  

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off. 

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed. 

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list. 

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite. 

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks. 

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects. 

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half. 

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you. 

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done. 

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him. 

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut. 

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes. 

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly. 

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge. 

Sweet. As always. 

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield. 

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts. 

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J. 

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other. 

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat. 

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave. 

Having to spend more time with J. 

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed. 

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well. 

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy. 

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual. 

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word. 

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer. 

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch. 

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste. 

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once. 

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner. 

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now. 

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough. 

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out. 

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain. 

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough. 

“Yes, a question?” J asks. 

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer. 

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy. 

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then. 

Now is a completely different story. 

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity. 

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned. 

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck. 

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field. 

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while. 

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight. 

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed. 

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over. 

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak. 

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking. 

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other. 

No. Way. 

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever. 

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future. 

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice. 

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever. 

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly. 

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further. 

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen. 

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was. 

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well… some insight. 

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.  

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague. 

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God. 

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into. 

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once. 

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him. 

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on. 

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt. 

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it. 

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt. 

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye. 

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you. 

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things. 

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away. 

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first. 

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Uh… what the fuck?” 

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it. 

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes. 

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale. 

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them. 

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip. 

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him. 

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise. 

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face. 

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon. 

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him. 

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside. 

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked. 

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you. 

“As you say,” she says, skeptical. 

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that. 

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier. 

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh. 

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand. 

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon. 

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead. 

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague. 

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under. 

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle. 

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road. 

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide. 

“Skipped?” You clarify. 

“That’s what I said,” J confirms. 

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster. 

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all. 

Clearly, you were mistaken. 

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this. 

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long. 

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before. 

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area. 

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis. 

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own. 

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest. 

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s. 

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally. 

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin. 

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do. 

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means. 

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions. 

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it. 

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty. 

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life. 

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider. 

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you. 

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless. 

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night. 

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area. 

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat. 

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of. 

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled. 

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same. 

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world. 

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you. 

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much. 

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly. 

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung. 

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung. 

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket. 

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down. 

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is. 

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through. 

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise. 

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s. 

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully. 

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day. 

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. 

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly. 

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over. 

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with. 

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in. 

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail. 

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot. 

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold. 

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks. 

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval. 

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious. 

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd. 

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him. 

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here’s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment. 

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh. 

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says. 

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say. 

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice. 

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him. 

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him. 

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again. 

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land. 

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake. 

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side. 

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach. 

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur. 

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face. 

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis. 

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise. 

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped. 

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side. 

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes. 

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore. 

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go. 

The wind stopping in its tracks. 

And an arrow headed right for your heart. 

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger. 

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence. 

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate. 

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates. 

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body. 

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe. 

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown. 

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other. 

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer. 

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today. 

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like. 

“Is he even in today?” 

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble. 

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here. 

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen. 

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time. 

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work. 

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered. 

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open. 

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands. 

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick. 

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him. 

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five. 

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder. 

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot. 

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily. 

“Huh?” He asks, turning around. 

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you. 

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes. 

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces. 

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open. 

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together. 

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television. 

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show. 

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you. 

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home. 

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment. 

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself. 

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island. 

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek. 

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch. 

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize. 

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed. 

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl. 

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none. 

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic. 

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate. 

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques. 

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something. 

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board. 

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens. 

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday. 

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming. 

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around. 

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut. 

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear. 

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch. 

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair. 

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice. 

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice. 

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment. 

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings. 

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them. 

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead. 

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks. 

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually. 

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off. 

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him. 

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking. 

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information. 

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly. 

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says. 

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open. 

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?” 

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch. 

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right. 

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye. 

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending? 

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #bts enemies to lovers #bts friends to lovers #w: for you anything

[imagine-loki]

strangers

TITLE: strangers CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/? AUTHOR: hiddlemediddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a psychologist set to question Loki during his incarceration in Stark Tower. Initially, he scoffs at the prospect of a ‘psychological examination’. However, Loki grows quite attached to you and complies to each and every programme you have in store for him. RATING: MATURE NOTES/WARNINGS: Hullo! The only warning I can give is that my wonderful self has had her hormones flying around. Time to channel them into something useful.. such as writing some Loki.. I’m going to stuff the whole Y/N and Y/L/N faff and just give you a name. Also, it’ll be less of a psychologist but more of a counsellor - but a bit of both really. With regards to POV, I want to say that despite the fact that I use ‘she/her’ pronouns to refer to the character, I want it to be as gender neutral as possible to accommodate to you all, though I am conscious that the vast majority of you will be female readers. I have written from a male perspective before for Loki as I am very passionate about more LGBT representation in writing, but this particular fic will be she/her despite the second person 'you’ narration. Please do message me (I’m hiddlemediddles) if you have any queries - I love messaging you guys and it makes me so happy to know there are beings out there in this chaotic world who have the time to read my Loki fantasies… !! Hope that all agrees. Brilliant - let’s gooo! - The task seemed simple enough. Redeem an evil mastermind from continuing to think like an evil mastermind. You had done it countless times before, with men that were.. admittedly… a lot less problematic than this one. This Loki that you had been assigned was a tough one. Not only that, but he was an alien. Or a 'god’, as these spies liked to emphasise that he was. God or alien, it didn’t matter too much. A patient was a patient.

But this patient was going to be a tricky one. He had attacked New York on a whim with an army of extraterrestrial beings, murdered countless people in that attack.. all under the control of what they explained to be something called an 'infinity stone’. A stone which had taken control of the man’s mind and driven him close to the brink of sheer insanity. Now these stones were all destroyed before some purple alien got them, this Loki was experiencing the aftermath of that stone. They said he was still deranged, but a lot less deranged than what he had been a month ago. That was at least partly uplifting. “Think you’re up to the task?” Nick Fury asked. “Yes. As ever.” You said, lamenting how strong they had made your tea. Being British, these things were of paramount importance after all. “It’s settled then. We will inform Loki that he is to see a counsellor slash psychologist tomorrow morning at 11am. Shall we call it.. an introduction?” “Yes, if you like. But how will this all be conducted? Without me being in danger of a premature death?” “He will still be contained in the glass cage. The one designed for the Hulk. You will be on a chair on the other side of the glass. You will be able to hear each other perfectly well. We will be observing the exchanges as they are held in this area. In the future, we hope that it can resemble something more.. relaxed. If we are all in agreement that he has improved during this.. rehabilitation, let’s say… then the cage will no longer be necessary.” “Right. Brilliant. I suppose it all depends now on whether he’ll cooperate.” “Miss. Croft, you are one of the most qualified people of the job. Isn’t it in your expertise to prompt cooperation?” he asked sceptically. You smiled at Fury as though he were an old friend. “No need for formalities. Call me Robin, don’t bother with the Miss. Croft rubbish. And I don’t prompt cooperation. It’s more like.. inviting it. Some people close off, others respond. Human nature is a bit like that, Mr. Fury.” With everything settled, you left a half full cup of tea at the meeting table of Stark Tower and proceeded to shake the hands of multiple men. Mental note: hand sanitise. Immediately. “Robin Croft. A pleasure to have met you.” “Yes. You too, thank you. See you soon.” You said hurriedly. Perhaps a bit too hurriedly. You were desperate to get back to your apartment and shaking all of these hands was driving you towards becoming infuriated by the whole situation. Who needed an entire board of governors to discuss Loki’s rehabilitation anyway? They did, apparently. At last, the breeze of the autumn air ruffled your hair as you stepped out of the stuffy Stark building. Thank goodness. Realising that the apartment wasn’t too far to walk, you abandoned the idea of a taxi. Very expensive and often (but not always, thankfully) driven by a misogynist ready to make comments about women wearing suits. You adjusted the lapels on your own light blue suit as you made my way to your apartment. Thankfully, heels hadn’t been on the menu today. Flats. The most wonderful sensation to the feet. After having met with multiple clients, you felt just about ready to collapse into bed. Hot chocolate and a book first. Something daring, adventurous. Anything to spark the flame, even if it was fictional. Admittedly, you revelled in reading dark, mysterious heroines with troubled pasts. Even better if they were women. But they were often men, which was also wonderful. Women, men, non-binary. It was all wonderful. As long as they were mysterious, dark pasts and had a sharp jaw. That sharp jaw.. You hauled myself up the stairs, feeling like going in the lift would be some kind of capitulation. Once you made the first flight, you cursed myself for being so foolish. The lift would have done perfectly. Ah well. Soon enough, the slippers were on and the book was out. The hot chocolate nearby too, of course. Just how you loved it. Just as you had lamented Stark Tower’s attempt at making a cup of tea, you felt the pangs of dejection at your lack of foresight. The bloody wine. You had completely forgotten to pick up a bottle - the sequel to the hot chocolate. Another night. You flicked open the page with the bookmark. It would continue from that part in the story when the two lovers are separated for some annoying reason and the sexual tension is rife. You sighed as you read the detailed descriptions of yearning, longing, sexual frustration. You read the descriptions and felt no affinity to them at all. Of course, you could relate to the sexual frustration, but there was none in your life at the moment. You were satisfied. Heaven forbid that a man or woman came and ruffled this contentment. You had hoped the days of lusting after human beings had passed. But it never does pass. You hoped earnestly that whoever was to come and screw up your life by your falling desperately in love with them was not coming soon. Thankfully, the job was rather straightforward (mostly). No strings attached, just bringing human beings back to the world where they belonged and into society again. Nothing more, nothing less. Socially. things were nice. A few nights out every now and then with friends, but nobody had caught your eye in a long time. It didn’t matter as you enjoyed your own company far too much to let it go so easily. So willingly.. or unwillingly. The story progressed. The man was being… the man.. by withholding some essential piece of information that the woman would become frustrated about. I groaned at the predictability. Couldn’t they just have sex already? Perhaps you were sexually frustrated after all. Hmm.. one night stand. But how the hell will you schedule that in now with that new client? That.. Loki. You sighed. A new client that will likely be the most demanding of them all. But you weren’t a world expert psychologist for nothing. Years upon years of work had led to this. Led to a branch of the government, the spy service of all places, having employed you as the gateway to Loki’s redemption. How hard could it be? A few meetings and he’ll be on his feet. On his feet and walking amongst the people of earth. A valued member of society. At least, that was the goal. ** Waking up bright and early, you were gathering the questions you had prepared for the man. Right.. 11am. Ready. Ready to face a murderer, madman.. Asgardian? Well, a madman controlled by a.. stone. A magical stone. You prided yourself on your punctuality and made it at Stark Tower for quarter to eleven. Fury led you towards the door which would take you directly to Loki inside his glass cage. A shiver rippled across your spine. Whether it was excitement or fear, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was definitely anticipation. Just before 11, Fury let you in. “Good luck.” he said. The doors opened. x

#Loki #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #strangers #chapter 1 #hiddlemediddles

[staytheb]

Immortal Soulmate [1team edition]

Genre: immortal!au, soulmate!au, supernatural!au, fantasy!au, slice of life Word Count: 1,110 Summary: werecat!bc, faerie!rubin, werefox!jinwoo, vampire!jehyun, werewolf!junghoon with genderneutral!ocs

9.21.21

EDIT! due to Xen and Jehyun redebuting, i included OX in the tag due to that. maybe in the future i could add the rest of the OX members. for now i’ve just done this and to hope clear any confusion.

notes: bullet-list. five in one. a brief introduction of each immortal member as different types of otherwordly beings. also i’m not all that familiar of 1team and hope it’s good enough for y’all!! (Sol means Pine, Namoo means Tree, Yiseul means Dew, Hanbyul means One Star, and Haru means Day just an FYI on why i chose the names lol)

alright hello! the original request was something different and realized that i just couldn’t write it even if i tweaked it. so i would like to apologize to @rainbowglitteramythyst for waiting so long to read something and it wasn’t of your original request. i hope this one is good good enough even though it was an older worked titled Immortal Soulmate with different idols, but i felt that i could do something with that for the 1team boys here. also why it’s titled the same with the brackets since i really do like that title in general lol but yeah anyways, who doesn’t love some dark romance right? i honestly had a lot of fun writing this one and imagining as said immortal being. maybe one day i could actually write a fuller fic for the boys, but for now it’s just this. anyways, thanks for the request, and sorry once again for not writing it out. as for everyone else, hope y’all enjoy as this is my first gender neutral ocs as i usually write the ocs as female! kthxbai, Admin Lia~

werecat!CSH

name is Chin Sungho

appears to be in his mid-twenties, but is actually over a few centuries years old

his cat form is an abyssinian

loves being pampered while in cat form

while in cat form likes to steal the neighbors' laundry for some reason

while in human form owns two actual cats named Shy and From

can play the flute and saxophone, but has no effect on his soulmate

he's pretty laid-back, but reserved around strangers

by day he's a university student, but by night he's part of the rap underground

and how Sungho manages to be a cat in-between his beyond him

some powers includes: night vision, inaudibility, stealth tactics, and spiritual awareness

Park Sol is a normal human also in their twenties

Sol is indirectly Sungho's owner as Sol's mother was the one to adopt the apparent 'stray' cat

Sol's unaware he's is a shape-shifter and that both are unaware that they're soulmates

they both attend the same university with Sungho majoring in veterinary science and Sol's majoring in visual arts

the mother named him Bryan, but Sol calls him Rayi instead

while in cat form, Sungho adores Sol, but as a human, he's quite aloof for some reason

Sol also own two other cats, Andante and Texas, but they don't quite like Sungho in either form

faerie!LRB

name is Lee Rubin

appears to be in his mid-twenties, but is actually over a few centuries years old

half-elf, elven mother and human father

neither good or evil, neutral although a bit mischievous and playful

is wondrous, but slightly haughty

changes hair color constantly

looks human despite an ethereal glow and unnatural beauty to him

gets into a lot of arguments with the butterflies when it comes to flowers

is still learning french despite his age

can play the piano and guitar although this has no effect on his soulmate

besides elven abilities, faery magic, and ecokinesis, Rubin has large sparkly wings and can manipulate fairy dust

Kim Namoo is a normal human also in their twenties

they have been neighbors since babies, but are not friends as Namoo tells people

Kim Namoo is unaware of his true background and neither of the two are aware of the fact that they're soulmates

they both attend the same university and are both majoring in fine arts

Rubin likes teasing Namoo the most, but is quite protective of Namoo if others mess with them, too

he's the reason why Namoo has dreaming and sleeping issues

Namoo has a beagle named Ruru and a scottish fold named Prince and they both have a love-hate relationship with Rubin

werefox!LJW

name is Lee Jinwoo

appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old

his fox form is an arctic fox

in his fox form he has three tails with each having their own personality

is quite active and may be why he eats a lot in either form

favorite food is ramen and fried rice, especially with animal heart and liver

has a great sense of smell and hearing

as a fox loves cuddles and has perfect heat insulation

Jinwoo is super shy with strangers, but very lively with closed ones

despite being a fox spirit, Jinwoo actually likes dogs

some powers includes: illusions, enhanced physical skills, possession, and fox-fire

Baek Yiseul is a normal human also in their twenties

Yiseul lives in the same apartment complex as Jinwoo, but on different floors

they also attend the same university with Yiseul majoring in photography and related media and Jinwoo majoring in nutrition

Yiseul is unaware that he's a shape-shifter and is his soulmate

Jinwoo knows that Yiseul his soulmate due to the invisible galaxy-colored fox flower tattoo on their upper back

he's the reason why Yiseul's pet hamster, Malik, goes missing and returns a few days later

Yiseul's pomeranian, Zayn, hates him because Zanik knows Jinwoo's a fox spirit

vampire!MJH

name is Moon Jehyun

appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old

dhampir, vampire dad and human mom

a natural charmer and a smooth talker

enjoys pulling pranks on unsuspecting humans

prefers animal blood over human blood just as the same with animal meat to human meat

eye color changes based upon current mood

still needs to be invited inside

owns two cats name Coco and Kkotnim

by day he's a university student, but by night he's a street dancer

besides vampiric abilities and umbrakinesis, Jehyun has bat-like feathery wings, can shape-shift, and walk in sunlight

Sun Hanbyul is a normal human also in their twenties

they live in the same house block and have a circle of mutual friends

Hanbyul is unaware of his true nature and background and that their his soulmate

Jehyun knows Hanbyul's his soulmate because he recognizes the old soul within them that glows pale lilac

they attend the same university as fashion design majors although Hanbyul thinks Jehyun should be a model instead

Hanbyul works at a late night dessert bar cafe and Jehyun would stop by during one of his nightly visits

Hanbyul has a jack russell terrier, Groovin, who isn't quite fond of Jehyun

werewolf!LJH

name is Lee Junghoon

appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old

his wolf form is a mix of the grey and red wolf

as a wolf Junghoon's fur coat is tawny brown with silver and golden highlights

can shift body temperature to accommodate any weather and climate changes

has a cool demeanor and doesn't hold grudges

can be a bit emotional and sad at times, especially during the full moon

isn't particularly weak against silver or related substances, but it hurts a lot when it happens

usually craves raw meat, but will eat a rare to medium rare

by day he's a university student, but by night he's also part of the underground rap scene

some powers includes: enhanced physical skills, healing factor, invulnerability, and area affinity

Jung Haru is a normal human also in their twenties

they've been acquainted since babies as their great-great-great-grandparents have been long time friends

Haru's unaware of Junghoon's background and that their his soulmate, but feels a strong attraction to him

Junghoon knows Haru's his soulmate due to their scent smelling like the spicy fragrance of the night gladiolus

they both attend the same university with Haru majoring in social welfare and Junghoon majoring in environmental education

Haru has a samoyed named Juan and an alaskan malamute named Frizzy that absolutely adores Junghoon

Haru also has a friend that's part of the underground scene and would accompany that friend

#staytheb #1team scenarios #chin sungho #lee rubin #lee jinwoo #moon jehyun #lee junghoon #omega x scenarios #xen

[thatsparrow]

(fleabag/priest • read on ao3)

I love you, too.

It'll pass.

Much like God, that last bit turned out to be a lie. 

—

It's two years later and things are—fine, actually. Good, even. Cashiers ask you how you are, and you say, "I'm doing well, thanks," and it doesn't even feel like a lie. The cafe is, somehow, still a success—enough so that you can afford to do things like buy a new awning and replace the linoleum. You even spend a weekend with drop-cloths spread out over your nice, recently-replaced linoleum and give the interior a new coat of paint. You choose this pastel, light-washed teal color that looked cheery on the swatches but mostly reminds you of watered-down mouthwash. Still, when the sun comes in during the afternoons, it looks nice. You get compliments on it.

All the guinea pig pictures are still up, of course.

Both Hillary and Stephanie (who is, you remind people, actually a hamster) are also doing well, which feels like a miracle. A few months back, Hillary caught some sort of guinea pig flu and that had led to an emergency vet visit and several very-panicked Google searches about guinea pig lifespans, but then she'd gotten better and apparently they live for four-to-eight years anyway, so, she'll likely be around for ages yet.

(Hamsters, on the other hand, only live about two. Sorry, Stephanie.)

That banker—or, former banker? You never did find out what his new job was—still comes by. At least once a month, and usually on Chatty Wednesdays. He brings his wife, too, as he'd said he would. She has kind eyes—which is the sort of description you don't use very often, but suits her—and is both soft-spoken and full of questions. You learn that she bakes, because of course she does, and every so often she brings along a cloth-lined basket of lavender cookies or rose-frosted cupcakes or something equally Martha Stewart. They're fucking delicious, too.

Claire still commutes from Finland, but less often, now that she lives there. She has an apartment in London for when she visits that's obscenely beautiful and rarely-ever used—dark granite countertops and these funny-looking geometric sofas and lots of tasteful artwork (though, none of them done by your cunt stepmother). It should all be gathering dust, but Claire pays someone to clean it once a week and to keep the fridge stocked (on the off chance she comes for a sudden visit, which she never does). Sometimes, when you've been out late and your own place is too far away, you stay there for the night. Claire did give you a spare key, after all, and it seems a shame that no one is getting any use out of those million-thread count sheets or the quinoa salads in the fridge. You don't particularly like quinoa, but that isn't the point. 

The two of you don't talk often, but often enough. You know that she's busy, and when she does call, it doesn't feel like an obligation. Like, sure, maybe your sister needs a calendar reminder to phone you, but when she does, she sounds genuinely happy to hear from you. (She also just sounds genuinely happy about her life, which is such a wonderful change of pace.) Tall, blonde, beautiful, Finnish Klare posts pictures of the two of them on Facebook sometimes (yes, you got a Facebook just to friend him)—mostly selfies, all taken by him, of him and Claire in various corners of the world. Stern-looking, northern cities where the sun doesn't rise part of the year, and bright, fruit-flavored beaches where the sun never sets. Claire looks half-annoyed in all of them, but the kind of annoyance that's covering up how pleased she really is. Like she isn't allowed to look too happy about her tall, blonde, beautiful, Finnish boyfriend and how much he clearly adores his tall, brunette, equally-beautiful, British girlfriend.

"If you have a child, will you also name it Claire?"

"What? Don't be silly, we're not having a child. I don't even know if we're going to get married."

(She does, and they are.)

"You could spell it with a ch so it's a little bit different. Something silly and American, like C-h-l-a-y-r-e."

"Stop it."

(She's smiling on the other end of the phone. You expect they'll announce the pregnancy by the end of the year.)

"It's gender-neutral, too, so you're set either way. Come on—you both have perfect bones and perfect hair and it'd be such a shame to waste that. "

"You're ridiculous."

"Always, but I think I'd be a great Aunt to little Chlayre."

"I'm going, now."

Apparently, having sex with someone who has the same name as you is weird, but you get used to it. And, apparently, the sex has been so amazing anyway that it's worth a little weirdness. Good for her. God knows she needed it.

(Speaking of God—)

He moved parishes shortly after the wedding. Not God, of course, but—well, you know. You'd thought it a little dramatic to move entire cities just because you'd had sex, but it was also arguably less dramatic than his leaving the Church, so. Likely he had made the right call. You probably would have ended up hating each other by the end, anyway, if he'd stayed. It wouldn't have worked out, because when do these things ever? It's good that he left. (It isn't.) It is.

Still.

You think about him less than you used to, less than in the days after—I love you, too. It'll pass—the bus stop, when it was all still so fresh and new. When you were feeling dramatic (drunk), you'd liken it to the feeling of having lost a limb, like he'd taken one of your hands or some vital organ when he'd walked away. When you're feeling less dramatic (sober), you liken it to having lost something you'd only been promised—something fanciful, like someone told you that they'd invented the ability to breathe underwater and it had all turned out to be a lie. 

Except it wasn't a lie. He did love you. He just loved God more.

One afternoon, you'd been running errands that had happened to take you past the church (six blocks out of your way, actually, but close enough) and ducked inside—not even to say anything, just to see him, maybe—but it had been empty except for Pam arranging some pamphlets at the front. You'd asked about him, because of course you had, and she'd said he was "gone."

"Gone gone? Like—"

(Dead?)

"No, sorry, my mistake. Moved. This lovely parish on the coast whose own priest passed away a few weeks ago. A little quiet, but he says it's very charming."

"You've spoken to him, then?"

"Yes, of course."

Of course—like it's so simple.

You leave ten minutes later, after Pam's talked you into donating another ten pounds to the collection and volunteering at another church event the coming weekend, but it doesn't really hit you until you're nearly back at the cafe that he's—gone. Not dead gone, but might as well be. That, much like Harry taking that stupid dinosaur toy, he'd wanted to close the door permanently. Maybe he knew you well enough to know that you'd come back to the church someday, or maybe he knew himself well enough to figure it was only a matter of time before he turned up on your doorstep, and so he'd taken the choice away from you both. What a stupid, frustratingly-adult thing of him to do.

You hate him and love him a little bit more for it.

You don't really know what moving on looks like, but you figure it out. You drink a lot, at first, and then a little bit less. You stop feeling weepy whenever you see a Bible, or a G&T, or photos from the wedding. Rebound sex isn't as good as you'd imagined (except with the Hot Misogynist), and so you quit bringing people home quite so often—at least until you can stop comparing everyone to him. You still masturbate over him, of course, but it feels less like a need and more like a way to treat yourself. Like, if you eat all of that kale salad and only have a glass of wine with dinner, then tonight you can wank over his stupid strong arms and his stupid beautiful neck and that stupid little smile of his. If you just make it through a whole lunch with your dad and your cunt stepmother and not say anything too profane, then you get to touch yourself and imagine waking up with him in the morning and him making you pancakes and other sickeningly domestic fantasies.

It's been two years, so of course you've moved on, but you've moved on in a way that lets you keep loving him. Perhaps it's irresponsible, but you're not willing to let him go entirely. Not yet, anyway.

 —

 Then, your cunt stepmother announces that she and your father are adopting a baby.

"I'm sorry, what—"

"You've got to be fucking kidding—"

They'd waited until Claire was in town to make the announcement. They'd invited you both over for tea, and you should've known something was strange about that, but then you're sitting in the garden with a mouthful of Earl Gray and your cunt stepmother says she's adopting and you have to flip a coin between spitting out the tea all over her tasteful linens or scalding the inside of your throat.

You end up swallowing the sip, but it's a close call.

"Well, you know, I've never really ruled out having children—it's such a blessed, beautiful part of life—but, unfortunately, I can no longer conceive naturally, and so your father and I have been discussing—"

(It wasn't a discussion.)

"—and we submitted the applications and met with a mother this week. Lovely girl, terribly awful home life, can't afford to raise the baby on her own, but she's just got the most marvelous cheek bones."

(Cunt.)

"Anyway, she's due in a couple of weeks and then we'll be bringing little Felicity home—"

(Felicity?)

"—and we'd just love it if you two were there for the christening."

"Yeah, because this family has such a great record with godmothers."

Your cunt stepmother is still smiling but the look she's giving you is acidic enough to peel paint.

"Oh, look, I don't know." Claire's grip on the teacup is so tight, you're surprised she hasn't cracked the porcelain. "I've just taken time off to come home, and I'm really not sure I'll be able to again so soon—"

"No, but you must—mustn't she, darling? Your father just couldn't bear it if you weren't there for such an important day, and we did so miss you at the wedding reception."

(Two years, and she still hasn't let that go.)

"Say you will, Claire. Please? Promise us you'll be there." How your cunt stepmother manages to look so pleading is a mystery, but fuck her if she doesn't have it nailed. Your father is still mostly silent, as he's been throughout this whole ordeal, but Claire must see something in his expression because she relents with a, "Yes, fine, alright. I'll be there."

For the christening. The christening of the baby they're adopting. Your father's going to be in his fucking seventies at the kid's graduation.

"Oh, how marvelous! It won't be for a few months or so after the birth, so you should have plenty of time to get everything in order. The whole thing will be just splendid."

(It won't be.)

 —

 The day of the christening creeps up like a bad dream.

(You know those events when you think you'd rather get a bikini wax and then take a bath in lemon juice than attend? This is one of those days.)

You found a dress that seems like a good church dress, a boat-neck, sky-blue thing that doesn't really do anything for your figure, but it is a christening, so. You get there early because your cunt stepmother asked you to (demanded it), and because Claire will be getting there early as well, and maybe the two of you can sneak some of the church wine. You figure you'll probably be handing out programs or directing people to their seats or whatever else happens at a christening. It'll last about an hour, and then there will be a tasteful reception with champagne and sparkling cider and your dad and cunt stepmother showing off baby Felicity in her white, wedding-like christening gown, and then you can go home and forget the whole thing ever happened.

That's the plan, anyway.

You get to the church a half-hour before the christening starts (which is still later than you were meant to be here, but fuck it) and your cunt stepmother is already in—well, a tizzy. She's wearing this funny, artsy-looking gown that's patterned like stained glass and you wish it looked worse on her than it does. She's not yet holding baby Felicity (because this day isn't really about baby Felicity) but she is deep in conversation with the priest up near the altar, who's already dressed in his own decorative christening robes. Then your cunt stepmother looks up and sees you standing in the aisle, half-debating whether you could hide under the pews, and she's calling out your name and saying, "Thank God you're finally here—sorry, Father," and, "Oh, do you remember—?"

(It's him.)

"—he's the priest who officiated our wedding. He's not in the parish anymore—such a shame—but when I knew we'd be adopting little Felicity, I contacted him to find out if he'd be willing to perform the ceremony. Such a dear, isn't he?"

(It's him.)

"I do so love the symmetry of it. And it seemed such a hassle trying to find another priest we'd connect with when we already knew such a nice fellow."

(It's him, it's him—fuck me—it's him.)

He smiles when he sees you, a nice, polite, church smile. Of course, he's had however many weeks to prepare for this whereas you've just had an anvil dropped on you like you're Wile E. fucking Coyote.

"Pleasure to see you again," he says. He even sounds sincere.

"Likewise—" you say, but then your cunt stepmother is coming down from the altar and shepherding you into the back and putting you to work folding programs—"Make sure you're lining up the corners, dear,"—and you've never hated her quite so much. Of course, if it weren't for her and baby Felicity and the whole stupid christening, he wouldn't be here in the first place, but you're willing to ignore that for the sake of hating her. Fuck, he'd looked good, too. And here you are in your fucking church-appropriate dress folding fucking programs and by the end of the day he'll be gone back to the fucking coast and—

You need a cigarette, or ten. Fuck the programs.

It's quiet in the alley, enough so for you to take a couple of slow, deep, wonderfully nicotine-filled breaths and get yourself together. It'll be fine. It'll be miserable, but it'll also be fine. You'll sit in the pew, and you'll watch him perform the ceremony, and try very hard not to think about how beautiful he is underneath the fancy christening robes, and tonight you'll drink yourself unconscious and then wake up tomorrow and forget the whole day ever happened. It'll be the worst day of your life, but then it will be over.

(Second-worst, actually.)

The cigarette is nearly burned down to your fingernails, and you're about to stub it out when you hear the side door opening, and you say, "Sorry, Dad, I'll be there in a moment, I'm just—"

"Got a light?"

It's him.

(It's him.)

You nod, your breath feeling very shallow as he comes up next to you, leans in towards you with the tip of his cigarette. The orange light looks like paint on his skin, like he's been pulled from a Renaissance painting. He still smells the same.

"Aren't you worried about ash on your—" you gesture down at the fancy christening robes.

"Not really." He exhales, slow; his hand is shaking a little. "I doubt anyone but your stepmother would notice, anyway."

The thought gives you a sudden rush of satisfaction. Fuck, you do love him.

"I tried to quit for a while," he says after another breath, the smoke hovering in front of him, "then found I didn't really want to."

(You hope he isn't actually talking about cigarettes.)

"Better than me—I've never even tried to give it up."

(You, at least, are definitely not talking about cigarettes.)

"How have you been?" he asks.

(Miserable, then less miserable, then better, and now miserable all over again.)

"Good, actually. Haven't run myself out of business yet, so. That's something. How about you?"

"I was pretty lonely, for a while. New parish and all that. But it's not so bad now, and I quite like being so close to the water."

(You're happy that he's doing well, and also a little unhappy that he isn't doing worse.)

"That sounds nice, actually. And it's good of you, to have come all the way back for the christening. You didn't have to."

He's giving you a look. You hope it's the sort of look that means, yes, I did.

"Well, your stepmother can be awfully persistent."

"Yeah, well, she's a cunt."

He laughs at that, both amused and unsurprised. "I don't think I can mention that during my speech."

"No, probably not."

His own cigarette is nearly gone; you'll have to go inside, soon, and then the moment will be over. You really, really don't want it to be over.

"Do you ever think about moving back?" Your palms somehow feel very dry and very sweaty at once.

"Sometimes. Often, if I'm being honest, but—" he exhales instead of finishing the sentence. "There's plenty to keep me busy where I am now."

"And how's—God?" You're just fishing for time now. Badly. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Mostly the same. A bit disappointed in the state of the world, but still filled with an infinite capacity for love, forgiveness, et cetera."

"Right. I think I remember something like that in the Bible."

"Love, forgiveness, et cetera?"

"Exactly."

He laughs again, then pauses. "Do you still have it, then? The one I gave you, I mean."

(You know what he meant.)

"Yeah, I've got it somewhere." 

(In your nightstand, but he doesn't need to know that.)

He nods, then lets his own cigarette fall to the pavement.

"Well, I should—"

"You should probably—"

If you were braver, you might kiss him. If he were braver, he might kiss you. You don't really want him to leave, and he doesn't particularly look like he wants to go, but without being brave, neither of you knows what's supposed to happen next. He'd go back inside and then go back to his new parish, probably, and you'd never see him again. It's painful, how much you don't want that.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looks both curious and a little afraid for the question. "Yeah, of course."

He'll be going anyway, whether or not if you fuck this up. There's no reason not to try—other than that you're a little bit of a coward, but that's not really an excuse.

"You said it would pass." You feel a little dizzy. "Did it?" His jaw goes tight a little, like there's a wire running through it. "I'm just—curious, I guess." You take a slow breath. Fuck, what you wouldn't give for another cigarette right now, or an IV filled with whiskey. "Because it didn't, for me."

At that, he lets go of whatever tension he was holding in his jaw. He lets out a half-laugh that seems—relieved, almost. "No?"

You shake your head.

"No. It didn't for me, either. I feel like I've spent the last few years cheating on God—loving him and loving you."

There it is, in the open then. I love you, too.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You want to kiss him, or maybe have him fuck you against the wall. You think he probably would, too. It's exhausting, feeling this elated and miserable at once; by the time you go back inside, you hope the needle has landed on one or the other, you almost don't care which.

"What does that mean, then?"

He laughs again. "Fuck if I know. Like I haven't wasted two years trying to figure that out." He sighs, impossibly weary. "I still don't want to leave the church."

"Okay."

"But I don't want to spend any more time without you, either."

"Okay."

"It would help if you said anything else."

"I would, if I knew what else to say."

(Kiss me, fuck me, marry me—none of those are particularly solution-oriented, though.)

"It's been a while since we were friends. We might not like each other anymore."

(Bullshit. To the friends part and the not liking each other part.)

"Yeah, maybe."

"We could still end up hating each other."

(We wouldn't.)

"Also true."

"But—I could come back. See you again. See if this is still—"

(It is.)

"I'd like that."

He nods, weighty, like you were just discussing how to solve world hunger instead of whether or not he'll move a forty-minute drive back inland. 

"I should actually get back inside, now, before your stepmother castrates me—"

(Which would be a shame, now, after all that.)

"—but I'll be in touch? If you want?"

"I—yeah. Yes, I do."

He nods, and then he's stepping away, back towards the side door and the interior of the church. You wish he'd moved the other way, wish he'd push you up against the pitted brick wall and kiss you like it'd kill him to do anything else, but he doesn't. He's already in his fancy christening robes, after all, and it'd be a shame to wrinkle them now. Besides, you've waited two years. You can wait a few weeks or months more. You can wait, and then the two of you will figure out what happens next. He loves you as much as he loves God, and that already feels like a better place to start.

You brush the ash from your own dress and go back inside.

(You had said this was a love story.) 

#fleabag #fleabag x the priest #fleabag fic #the priest #3600 words in like two days I really was feeling inspired #my fic

[zoldyckangel]

Hello Admin Shy! I was wondering if you could do yandere/possessive HC for the adult trio? Thank you!!

Sure thing! Yandere or possessive adult trio isn’t hard to imagine.  They each have a bit of a dark side. And You’re very welcome! I love my yandere boys. Her/She pronouns used and some NSFW/some noncon mentioned Below.  

 Illumi 

Illumi is by far the most possessive out of the three. If he sees the person he has fallen in love with talking with any other man in a way he sees as ‘flirtatious’ his goal would be to trap his crush, so she can be forever with him and never talk to any man that could take her away from him. Whether it be forcing marriage upon them using threats to do so or locking them in a room with everything they needed to survive he would do it.

 Even if she began to hate him and told him this, he would see it as love in his delusional mind. Anytime she would scream “I hate you” at him he would just respond by giving her a creepy grin daring them to say it again  “I love you too (Name). Don’t worry.” If they constantly told him this or even used violence against him, he might grow a bit volatile with them and threaten to chain them to the walls next, taking the last bit of their freedom away.

If she behaved for Illumi he might ease up a bit and take them out for walks like some pet of his. Plus he might use the excuse being out of the sunlight sometimes can be harmful to her. If she tries and escape during these times, Illumi will just use Mike to hunt her down. Mike, of course, won’t kill her, just perhaps rough her up a bit. If Mike fails, then Illumi himself will track them and will do anything, and I mean anything to get her back.

If she ever succeeds in fleeing from Illumi and ran away from him. There will be hell to pay if he finds her and he will use friends or even family to get her back. The first person he would kill be someone like a friend, using them as an example and that next would be much worse. The next thing he would do is to threaten her family, and if she hasn’t come to him with him using that threat, then they would be dead in the next 24 hours. 

He likes picking outfits out for his ‘wife,’ and he would be very picky on how she dressed around him, and he would do her hair/makeup to even choosing what jewelry she would wear that day.  If she wasn’t wearing the outfit he picked out for her, he would forcibly undress them, and make them wear the clothing he picked out for that specific day.  If they struggled with him, he wouldn’t use much violence on them, the farthest he would go would be a push/shove to even a harsh slap on the cheek.

 To further trap his so-called ‘lover’ he might try and impregnate them as soon as possible, so sex or even rape (it wouldn’t be rape to him even if she were screaming/saying no) would happen often. In his eyes, if he gets her pregnant with his child, then she will be forced to stay with him to take care of the child with him. To him, his ultimate fantasy is having one big and ‘happy’ family just like his own family, the Zoldycks.  The more kids, the better.  

Hisoka

The man is a full-blown stalker, and he won’t hide it either, he will make sure his crush sees that he’s always lurking. Whether they’re at the market, going out to eat, shopping, going to school, work, going home, he won’t be far behind them. If she notices the clown trailing behind her and asks him to stop or holds any conversation with him, it will just make it worse. He would just go, ‘my my my, my little birdie finally noticed me.’ and start saying other weird or creepy lines.

Everyone knows Hisoka is naturally a pervert, so as a yandere this trait would be tripled by a thousand. This man for hours stares at pictures snapped of the woman he is currently ‘obsessed’ over, and he would use these to masturbate and moan too. All he needs is a little bit of skin on her legs to be revealed to masturbate too, or even a picture of her bent over picking something up. Hisoka’s imagination can and always will run amock.  

He is a big time dirty panty sniffer. Hisoka is not a big thief, but he would find ways to obtain a pair of her dirty panties by ways of breaking into her residence to even forcefully removing her underwear by ripping them off using his nails after he forced her down someplace like an alley or even her own home.  He might even have a collection of her dirty panties wherever he is staying in a box labeled ‘Y/N  Chan.’  Or ‘Mine’ with a heart.

Gropes and fondling her privates in public would happen very often from Hisoka. It doesn’t matter where she is, as long as there was a large crowd he would use this to his advantage by groping her ass or even her breasts from behind. He might even get a little frisky and try to slip his hands into her underwear. 

Rape could definitely happen with Hisoka if he were a yandere. He gets a sexual thrill off the struggle and the fight she would give him. It wouldn’t be fast either, this could go on for several hours. The more she hurts him by biting or scratching or punching at his chest, the more turned on he becomes, and the more he stretches out the length of intercourse. Though if she were completely still and didn’t put up much of a fight, he might lose his interest in short notice and leave. 

Other past or current lovers/crushes of the girl he is in ‘love with’, he would find unacceptable.  He would track every single one down to kill and murder them brutally especially if he finds out one of her lovers are strong. It would only push the factor of wanting a fight to the death over ‘love’ and whose love would prove stronger in the end. Which of course, would be Hisoka’s love.

Chrollo

Chrollo is by far the darkest and most manipulative out of the three.  He is a smart man, and he uses words and his natural charismatic behavior to try and ensnare the girl he has his eyes set on. Obviously, his charm might not always work if the girl sees right thru him, and that’s when he takes desperate measures and means. 

He is a professional thief and a mastermind. So break-ins and things going missing from the woman’s/girls apartment would happen often. First, he would steal little and unnoticeable things. Such things as a piece of jewelry of hers, to things such as clean pantries or bra, to even a couple of her favorite books to read in his spare time. Then he would steal bigger things like her phone, laptop, or any tech that holds personal information. 

As a yandere, he would use everyone’s abilities in the Phantom Troupe at his fingertip. For example, he would use Shalnark to hack into any computers/phones of the woman to learn everything about her. There would be not a single text message or photo on her computer/phone, that would go overlooked by Chrollo.  He would also use Phinks and Uvogin, as a couple of thugs to scare her on her way home so she falls right into his arms or he could be the prince to swoop in and save her.

 Chrollo can be extremely creepy in times when he breaks into her apartment/home. Sometimes he would even get so daring to break in while she is currently inside of her home and active.  During these times, he would either watch her from behind the shower curtain, staring at her curvy silhouette like prey,  to even watching her sleep soundly and grazing his fingers lightly against her arm. All the while his face remains neutral, and his eyes predatory. 

Uses the date rape drug often. Chrollo is quick, and if he sits next to her or even behind her at a restaurant, he can easily slip something into her drink when she or her friends weren’t looking. He uses such drug in cases where she is getting too close to the opposite gender to make her sleepy, and he wants her to go home. He would use it not to rape her (He is to ‘classy’ of a man for that), but to actually watch her sleep so he could stare and lie next to her.

He is prone to snapping behavior if the woman he currently is ‘seeing’ is active in a relationship and dating websites like Tinder. His true side would slowly start to creep out, and that’s when he would use Feitan, to get rid of the person she is dating. And as we know Feitan, he is active in the art of torture. So a video would be filmed and sent to her thru email of Feitan torturing the poor victim and attached to the email sent would be ‘Do not betray my trust like this again or someone else’s blood is on your hands.’ 

#Admin Shy #HunterXHunter #adult trio #illumi #Hisoka #chrollo lucilfer #hxh #yandere

[ansu-gurleht]

ok, breton time!

so at first glance, bretons seem pretty boring, yeah? pretty standard Boring White Fantasy Dudes, with Kings and Knights and Castles and Royal Squabbling, right? while they feature some of those aesthetic qualities, they are certainly much more interesting than that, even taking into consideration the little lore we actually have in canon. and, of course, i am feverishly willing to flip an entire aviary of birds towards the writers for the elder scrolls and make up some of my own shit, b/c sometimes there’s little gaps that need a little filling.

so let’s get down to basics by starting with square one: what are they and where’d they come from? i think it’s fairly well understood that they’re sort of the “half-elves” of the setting, despite looking nothing like elves, really. they’re the result of a bunch of nedes (a race of men probably from atmora who were especially populous in the deathlands, aka hammerfell) making their way into high rock and finding out some elves already lived there. 

those elves were altmers who’d found the adamantine tower (where convention took place, establishing linear time and also shooting lorkhan’s heart across tamriel) and kinda decided to settle around there, while basically the rest of the elves decided to go and make their own towers elsewhere. this clan of elves who stayed in high rock were known as clan direnni. it seems that with little conflict the nedes kinda just fell into a subservient role to the direnni in a strict feudal system, with the elves at the top and the nedes at the bottom.

part of this seemingly accidental arrangement (i’m not sure how i feel about the supposed “ease” with which the nedes were enslaved - ahem, “integrated”) was a particular privilege the direnni enjoyed: the “perquisite of coitus”. this kinda gross rule/law made it that any mer could at any time “engage in recreational intercourse” with any man (i’m using this term gender-neutrally) they wanted.

apparently the direnni didn’t know how protection worked or just didn’t care. see, in the tes universe, when two races can interbreed, the offspring always follows the race of the mother, with some traits from the father inherited. so we start seeing a bunch of biracial children result from this “perquisite”; those with elvish mothers seem to have all been integrated into the direnni society, whereas the ones with nedeish mothers are rejected by their elvish fathers. buuuuut these elvish-fathered nedes, due to having elvish blood, begin to be considered higher-classed than the rest of the nedes. they’re still rejected by the direnni, and at some point it seems the perquisite is canceled, but at that point there’s already a lot of nedes with elvish blood.

so over time, since they can’t mate with the elves anymore, the beratu, which is ehlnofex for “half,” begin to mate with the other, pure-blooded nedes. eventually, the nedes go extinct simply through this integration (as well as through war elsewhere, esp. in hammerfell w/ the ra gada), in a similar way to how we likely made neanderthals go extinct by interbreeding with them.

a more complicated feudal system then arose, where bloodlines and legacy become extremely important to high rock society. the direnni were at the top, then there was a spectrum of power from bretons (the eventual corruption of the ehlnofex beratu) with the most elvish blood being dukes and counts, to those with hardly any at all being serfs. eventually, the overzealous expansion of territory by the direnni overcame them, and they fell back to the isle of balfiera in the iliac bay. a bunch of nords flooded into the northern territories the direnni couldn’t hold anymore. 

but the bretons and their new feudal system went on just fine without them, and eventually they remained the dominant force in high rock, despite the nords from the north, the redguards from the south, and the orcs from orsinium. apparently, this wasn’t even done through war - it was done through trade, and also by further assimilating the nordic population.

okay, everything i’ve said so far is canon history stuff. you’re probably here for more interesting speculation, though. trust me, i just had to get this stuff out of the way for a bit of context.

so we know that the bretons are really magical b/c of their elvish heritage. we know they’re very sectarian, having had likely almost twenty (i couldn’t find an actual number, sorry) contesting kingdoms and city-states constantly squabbling over territory prior to the warp in the west, which brought us down to five. they’re also pretty big in the empire business, seeing as probably most of the emperors have been bretons, and high rock have always been avid supporters of the empire. (except maybe in the 4th era? i seem to remember them seceding, but i might’ve been thinking about hammerfell, b/c i can’t find anything about it.)

bretons worship basically the nine divines, but they also have a few other gods. they worship magnus, the guy who left mundus and didn’t bother to close the sun-shaped hole behind him; jephre, which is another name for y’ffre, which you can’t convince me isn’t pronounced “yiffer”; and phynaster, who uh, sounds important, but.....doesn’t seem important. (they also acknowledge sheor, aka “the bad man,” which was a way of the altmer demonizing the nords’ shor. there could possibly be breton cults devoted to him, but we just don’t know.)

magnus makes sense, seeing as he’s the god of magic and all. jephre though, he’s interesting. he/she was worshiped by the altmer and falmer as well, but he’s most notably worshiped by the bosmer. he’s the guy that started the green pact and all! BUT, even more notable than that: he’s not an aedra, or even just some ancestor spirit. he’s an earthbone! meaning that she completely sacrificed herself to create and stabilize nirn and the mundus.

but, you may ask, why’re the bretons so invested in him? they’re pretty distant from valenwood, and they were ruled by altmer, not bosmer! to which i say, well, the altmer worshiped him too! and you say oh. yeah, right. i forgot.

BUT that would be giving you the short answer. the better answer? they worship him b/c he’s right under their feet! the adamantine tower’s smack dab in the middle of high rock! that’s where convention happened, and the spirits who made nirn decided what to do about it! that’s where they got separated into aedra, daedra, magna-ge, ehlnofey, and earthbones. 

so, depending on how you interpret earthbones, or how they work or whatever, you could say y’ffre either became an earthbone in high rock, or is the earthbone of high rock. i’d argue against the latter, tho’, b/c he’s obviously the earthbone of valenwood, which i think most people will agree with. but....her influence definitely lingered in the place where she made that choice. especially considering that place was literally the first freakin’ tower, one of the pins holding up reality on nirn.

and this definitely has an influence on a lot of the things we know about high rock and the bretons. we know there’s a lot of magical creatures not found many other places in high rock, and we know that there are witches covens there, and we have a hint that there is some kind of group called the druids of galen.

okay, what? druids of galen? what’s that? oh, it’s fine if you don’t know, they’ve been mentioned literally only once in the entire series. when you pick to be a breton in the first game, arena, it mentions them. literally just name drops them and doesn’t elaborate. that’s not a lot to go off of, but that’s never stopped me before.

first, let’s get this out of the way: the whole “beratu” etymology is obviously just a retroactive excuse for the fact that they’re called bretons after the real-life bretons of northern france. the bretons were/are a celtic culture, in the same vein as the irish and scottish and welsh. and if you know anything about celtic cultures, you’ll know that they traditionally had people called druids, who were sort of like clerics or wizards (as in “wise-men,” not dumbledore), and are associated with the various stone circles in the british isles, like stonehenge. and, nowadays, thanks to a lot of fantasy stories of the past century or so, druids have come to be heavily associated with nature and magic associated with protecting nature and stuff.

so it’s fair to say that the “druids of galen” were probably modeled after that more contemporary concept of druids. then who the heck is galen? i reckon he was an elf or half-elf nede who somehow discovered or invented a kind of nature magic akin to that of the bosmer. the way i reckon it to have worked was that the trees they worshiped were somehow “connected” to the earthbones, probably through the roots. and then he started an order of druids to continue the practice.

what’s really interesting is the fact that this magic likely somehow manipulated or used the power of the earthbones. we have other canon examples of this kind of magic: the thuum of the nords, the tonal architecture of the dwemer, and i think also the spinners of the bosmer. this earthbone-magic is extremely potent, b/c the earthbones are a huge part of what lays down the laws of reality. if you can make them do what you want, either by yelling really hard, banging metal together, or telling weird stories, you possess REALLY great power. 

(and here’s something i just found out while writing this: apparently there’s another reference to the spinners in the eso crown store, which notes that “in high rock, [they’re called] the vicars of jephre”. which is just a really huge bonus for me!)

i think that the druids of galen were able to somehow tap into a similar power to the spinners through their nature worship. i once also suspected that this cult might’ve had political influence in getting rid of the direnni, but i’m not really sold on that anymore. it definitely seems, though, that by probably the 2nd era or so, the druids of galen were no more. (perhaps they or their remnants became the vicars of jephre, but i’m not sure if they hold the same power or recognition as they did as the druids. if they do, they likely are no longer able to tap into the power of the earth-bones, and are simply a religious cult to jephre.)

there’s also the witch wyrds, or covens, of high rock, which may also be descendants of galen’s traditions. there’s a few notable ones, such as the skeffington coven of phrygia (mentioned in the 2920 series), the beldama wyrd, who the book “the witch covens of northern high rock” outright claims to worship jephre as an ehlnofey and earthbone that established the laws of nature, and the glenmoril wyrd, most members of which having become hagravens. 

i’m very tired and have written a lot, so i’m going to stop here. i might talk more about bretons at a later time, most notably their culture, which i kinda seemed to skip here. an accident, but one which gives me a bit of more solid topic for next time.

#tes #tesblr #teslore #breton #bretons #high rock #altmer #jephre #y'ffre #ehlnofey #hagraven #direnni #clan direnni #nords #nedes #nord #nede #redguard #redguards #hammerfell #cyrodiil #tamriel #nirn #mundus #orcs #orsinium #orsimer #lorkhan #speculation

[zombriekid]

“A Drunk Man’s Words...” [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: “...are a sober man’s thoughts.” aka you shove your whole foot in your mouth while drinking with alucard.

Warning: dialogue about virginity and sex; brief mentions of sexual activity (nothing explicit, however)

  “Is vampirism really determined by virginal status?”

  It’s over a bottle of wine that this question finds its bravery.

  The drink itself has some boujee French name that you can’t even hope to pronounce, and its age dates back at least fifty years before you were born- probably worth twice as much as you too. And though your palette is accustomed to the four dollars a bottle variety the wine’s color reminds you of your drinking companion and admittedly it’s rather damn tasty, fruity and light and sits sweetly on the back of your tongue, so when the drink was offered you accepted a glass graciously. 

  Then you accepted another glass, followed by one more... three and a half glasses in and you’re ready to discuss all of the subjects that are considered conversational taboo where you’re from. Instead of politics and religion, however, you opt for something He’s a tad more familiar with than most.

  The stemless crystal pauses a hair’s width away from His lips, and though He doesn’t spare you a glance it’s obvious that you have His attention. Obvious in the way the slight heat of His breath fogs the clear, glossy surface just a little, obvious in the way His scarlet eyes seem to flit over the scene of the drink, and in the way the arch of His brow tugs up in tandem with a broad shoulder.

  “That’s the theory, though I suspect that there are more conditions beyond one’s sexual experience.” Alucard replies, His tone suggesting an air of casual aloofness. “It seems that it’s the most plausible, however.” 

  From the back of your throat comes a thoughtful hum before you wash it down with more wine. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Him do the same, though far more elegantly due to the fact that you can’t even hear Him sip, and you take this moment to... consider Him.

  Consider His impossibly long legs, and how one crosses over the other with such poise- trapped, caged, restrained by them; consider the generous expanse of His chest, nearly too large for the dark vest that conforms around His slim waist- on top, weighing down, or underneath, firm support; how slender His fingers are, artistic, almost like spider legs in the way they curl around the glass’ globe- gripping flesh, neck, in between thighs- pianist fingers; you watch the sharp cut of His chin tilt back to allow more sour grapes to pour down His milk white throat- which bobs with every subtle gulp. Your drunken brain craves the visuals of clean bed sheets and sticky skin and the weight of His body, and it doesn’t tell you to peel the dried layers of skin from your lips with your teeth but you do it anyways cause it’s hot and stuffy in this room and you’re wearing far too much clothing.

  Alucard is... attractive. Terrifying, and awful, but attractive nonetheless. 

  This is a reality that you’ve come to accept, yet even on your best days do you refuse to let that thought linger, refuse to let it fester and chafe your already confused emotions. However, now... here, in a recreation room with plush cushions at your back and a bottle at your side, you might be tempted to...

  ...maybe it’s the wine talking, or maybe it’s the sharp peak of His large aristocratic nose... but you’re attracted to Him. Sober Murray would deny that, shut that shit down immediately and remind yourself of all of the torment He’s hurled you way, however you’re not sober Murray right now. You’re drunk Murray, and drunk Murray can only think about how well versed this creature is in salacious pleasure.

  Wait... is He? He has to be- well, no, He doesn’t have to be, just seems like He would be. How much experience does He have? Does He have any?

  ...is He still, and you hesitate to ask yourself this because the concept of “virginity” makes your eyes roll, but is He still a virgin?

  When your mind, unfortunately, finalizes that thought it supplies you with the following information: Alucard is looking at you, direct eye contact being made and maintained, with the drink in His lap and both of His dark brows pushing into His hairline.

  He looks... shocked? Which in turn surprises you cause you ain’t never seen Him caught off guard before. Perhaps you’re wrong? After all what could be so alarming to startle fucking Alucard?

  The corners of His lips twitch as the rest of His handsome face relaxes, red eyes no longer the size of dinner plates, and He regards you with a quiet, droning chuckle. “And why do you wish to know that, little hunter?”

  ...what? Know what? Did you ask Him something? What did you ask Him?!

    Ya asked if He’s a virgin, jackass, whatever remains of your sobriety reminds you, and though you could’ve swore that all of that internal dialogue was just that, in your head, apparently your sloshed brain is slower than your mouth and now you’ve opened up rather personal dialogue with a very powerful vampire.

  It’s time to back-pedal kiddo and you had better be quick about it.

  “W-well you’re vampire,” you blurt, ears and cheeks and neck feeling hot. “And if virginity is the determining factor here than obviously you were before, and I’m just curious if you are still.”

  The eye contact doesn’t break; you notice that His are moving, studying, though never leaving you, and your memory jogs with the numerous instances you’ve suffered when you have had His absolute, unwavering attention. Instincts haywire, brain sending confusing signals to gut because neither can determine what the threat genuinely is, heart pumping so rapidly that it nearly seems like it’s not even beating... In all twenty six years of your human existence you’ve never encountered anyone or anything that’s tapped so intimately into your primal monkey brain, so when He finally removes His graze it honestly feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Crisis averted, Murray.

  “To answer your question, no I am not a virgin,” Alucard says. Not one moment later, a smirk slithers across His lips until it blows out into a full grin, and it’s wide enough to reach from one ear to the other, and any relief you’ve might have felt starts to fade. “Now that I’ve indulged you...” He glances at you out of the corner of His eye, “... it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

  There’s a heavy pressure wrapped around your right shoulder, a hand, judging by the fingers squeezing tight on your collarbone and the thumb gripping the back of your neck. It’s not coming from your vampiric fantasy companion- He’s still sitting in the lone chair, one hand cradling His nearly empty wine glass and the other on an armrest- yet instinctively, whether it be from generations of evolution or from years of mediumship, you know that somehow He’s involved.

  This is confirmed when you watch Him lean forward in His chair, fangs on display, and a small puff of hot air ghosts across the corner of your jaw.

  The gasp that’s forced out of your chest isn’t born from fear. 

  “So riddle me this, my curious little revenant.” The grasp on your shoulder stiffens a fraction, the fingertips curling into the bone while another cloud of breath passes down the pulse in your neck; His own fingers tighten around the glass, and His grin spreads some. “If I were to bite you right now...” another rush of hot air, this time on the curve of flesh and muscle that connects neck to shoulder, and you resist your body’s natural reaction to flinch, “... would you turn?”

  Your lungs expand as you draw in a deep breath. A tingling sensation erupts all over your body, goosebumps from head to toe with every single fine hair standing on end, and your heart pounds away at your ribs- a response that sends blood battering into your head, into your ears. You feel dizzy. And, again it might be the wine talking, yet you’re not scared. You’re not afraid. 

  Drunk Murray is not afraid of Alucard.

  (Well... not entirely.)

  And drunk Murray wants to rise to the challenge.

  It takes every inch of your spine to do this, but you manage to straighten your posture with squared shoulders and your chin tilted up. And after clearing your throat, albeit not exactly quietly, you dared to look directly in to His eyes and say “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

  You didn’t think it possible but the smile stretches across His face even more; for the first time ever Alucard looks pleased with you.

a/u: strong start weak finish, that’s how i feel about this. but considering the fact that i’ve been in a writing slump as of late, along with my arm recovering from the tat session this past monday, i’m just proud that i’ve managed to finish something, ya know? also i wanted to try a slightly different writing style, along with doing a saucy piece, so hopefully you guys will like it. if ya did, then please show your support through them likes, reblogs, comments, and criticisms! and if ya wanna request something, my inbox is always open. thank you for taking the time to read this!

#hellsing #hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfic #hellsing fanfiction #writing #hunter murray

[salavante]

For the character ask thingy, Ganzrig!

Someone’s popular! 

Full Name: Ganzrig Khalgar

Gender and Sexuality: Female and to be honest, haven’t decided if she’s bi or a lesbian, she seems to heavily lean to women in any case.

Pronouns: she/her

Ethnicity/Species: Steppe Orc or “Red Orc” as they call her in Godslaughter. They’re orcs based loosely on red river hogs, and can have more or thicker body hair, different colors of skin ranging from gold to dark reddish orange, depending on where they are from and how much human has been mixed in with them. Humans mix pretty freely with all the other races on Ismes, and most people probably have a human or two back in their family tree somewhere. I always thought it was really weird that most fantasy worlds are divided racially rather than nationally, so, all of the nations on Ismes (Ors, Umbra and Aurelia) are multiethnic, with Ors being the most varied, then Umbra, then Aurelia. Ors is a placeholder name and if I figure out something better, I’ll probably rename it.

Birthplace and Birthdate: I generally don’t keep track of birthdates for settings that would have different calendar systems, honestly. But Ganzrig was born on the world of Ismes in the northeastern part of the map, in the steppes of the nation of Ors, which is a collection of nomadic societies with a pretty wide roaming area. On the day she was born, her family hit an opal mine on their otherwise fallow property, making them wildly rich practically overnight. On Ismes, opal is a multicolored, iridescent ore that can be made malleable with heat and is very good at absorbing magic, making it ideal enchanting material. It is probably the rarest and most valuable material in the world. The Khalgars are set for several generations down, or when the ore is all mined out.

Guilty Pleasures: Ganzrig is a big old hedonist and has the usual set of wine, women and song type preferences, and when she dresses up does so very gaudily with lots of bright colors and opulent jewelry. Drinks and eats like an absolute monster. Unlike August, she fucks with technology even if she didn’t understand it (she went through a lot of cellphones because she’d get mad at it and throw it out a window or something). Likes makeup a lot! The red/white/grey markings on her face are all facepaint, and in the offseason, would probably have done some crazy stuff with eyeliner/eyeshadow/etc. 

Phobias: This is kind of sad, but Ganzrig was genuinely afraid to die. She kind of lived through her life planning to be immortal until otherwise notified. At her death, she was shocked and terrified. While she wasn’t afraid of him, August also made Ganzrig very uncomfortable, because while they are in close proximity to one another, their passive abilities kind of cancel out and she didn’t like feeling like a normal, vulnerable person.

What They Would Be Famous For: On Ismes, Ganzrig is famous for being a sort of folk hero, as she just kind of roamed the countryside getting into fights (that she always won) and being an all-purpose adventurer. On the Hunt, her charisma, brutality and showmanship won her a lot of points, and she quickly became a fan favorite. Generally speaking, the public at large and the other more rough and tumble members of The Hunt preferred Ganzrig to August.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Everything tends to go well for Ganzrig, so she kind of ignores most laws and rules in general. So, pretty much anything. Starting fights, taking things that don’t belong to her, etc. It all works out in the end, as far as she’s concerned.

OC You Ship Them With: No one to be honest, haven’t really found a character she clicks with, and I’m content to leave it at that. Not all my characters need a romantic partner. 

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: In-game, Ganzrig was ultimately killed by a very potent soothsayer named Hawkmoth, who’s predictions allowed him to cancel out her divinely good luck. He stabbed her in the chest in the hometeam’s war balloon when Ganzrig and Iona infiltrated it to take back August (who had defected) by force.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Ganzrig probably has a perfectly adequate level of literacy (once the Khalgars were on the trade map and had money, they made sure all the kids learned how to read and write and speak at least one other language) but not one that makes her enjoy reading. In movies, Ganzrig probably likes anything particularly irreverent, humorous or trashy. She’ll laugh at very crass humor but would probably enjoy most comedies as long as they don’t get too high brow. One of my few characters that’d I’d say probably enjoys Romcoms just for the schadenfreude.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Definitely does not enjoy anything too serious or somber in tone. She likes to be entertained by her media.

Talents and/or Powers: Ganzrig carries a one-handed axe and an ornate miquelet lock rifle with an ivory handle. She can, however, improvise with pretty much anything, whether it’s a weapon, object or throwable person. However her most meaningful trait is Fortune’s Favor, the compliment to August’s passive ability Miasma of Misfortune, which gives her preternaturally good luck. Everything sorts itself out in her favor. If she’s hungry, she’ll find food. If she needs somewhere to stay or a way to travel, that will come to her in its own way too. Naturally, most of her hits land, and most things do not hit her. She abuses this power for spectacle quite often, in and out of combat.

Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s charismatic! Ganzrig absolutely oozes confidence, charm and attitude, and like-minded people find themselves very enthralled by her. Always an extrovert, Ganzrig is the life of any party, and is more than willing to entertain everyone around her with her antics. She has a few party tricks that she pulls thanks to her powers, like asking people to throw hatchets or other dangerous objects at her while she drinks a stein of beer, and then dodging all of them while not spilling a drop. There is a glamorous, larger than life quality to her that is intoxicating.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: People who aren’t as extroverted or are physically weaker than Ganzrig will easily find that she is kind of a bully, and will push people around to get what she wants. She is prone to mocking others and punching down when harassing people for sport, and does not tolerate people talking shit or otherwise lurking around plotting to try to take her down a peg. She’s quick to anger and violence, and will knock someone’s lights out for relatively small trespasses. Ganzrig has a lot of privilege that she doesn’t fully comprehend, which blinds her to the plight of others who have not had the same opportunities as her. She’s kind of a shallow person.

How They Change: In Kismet Ganzrig will have to deal with who she is without her luck on all the time, how much it defines her, and how it has shaped how she interacts with the people around her. In the tabletop game, Ganzrig herself didn’t change, but the guy who killed her kind of slowly realized that perhaps he didn’t have to, and that while she was not good, she was perhaps not as bad as he had been led to believe. At the end of the game, Hawkmoth will be accompanying August back to Ismes to bring Ganzrig’s ashes back to her family, where I’ll get to introduce Ganzrig’s two sisters, Kuirik and Dodi.

Why You Love Them: Sometimes, it’s fun to have a character who’s just kind of mean. Ganzrig is a very pure spirit who I can with confidence say is one of my few truly neutral characters. She has undeniable charm, which made her one of my favorite background characters in our game, even if she died like halfway through it. I liked her enough to decide to make her and August’s frenemy-ship one of the core relationships in Kismet. I think she makes a really awesome foil to him, I think they could learn a lot from each other.

#flowerwench

[simplyoriginalcharacters]

Aischylos

So I haven’t figured out the story setting completely yet, but it’s a fantasy world based on many mythos, mainly Greek ones. It’s a pseudo-modern world; think early 1900’s but without real-world events. Sorry it’s vague.

(Find the rest of this profile and the critique under the cut! -Kyo)

There’s 4 harpy clans (Aello, Ocypete, Calaeno, Podarge) which are run by the namesake leader as well as a council of warriors and shaman. Races aren’t important and are mainly for aethetic differences.

Aischylos’ flock in particular live on a lake connected to the ocean via a natural dam. Their camp is located on an island in the middle of the lake which is covered in huge, ancient trees. They live in nests but have tools and basic magic. In this world, harpies are a female-only species that asexually reproduce (like white tail lizards) and it’s VERY rare that a male is ever born. Due to this, males are seen as weak and omens and are usually abandoned at birth.

The design of the harpies are tall humanoids with bird legs who are completely covered in feathers except for the face and hands. The hands are clawed and the top part is covered in light scales. The skin and scales are the same colour usually. These harpies are able to change their arms into wings and only the more practiced ones can have both “out” at once. They have beaks for noses (think the Rito from Zelda?).

The basic premise of the story is: Among the harpy clans there is an ancient truth: Males are never born. But when Bethesda decides to keep her son, Aischeylos’ faces a life of danger and abuse from his fellow flock members. Nobody expects him to live up to his ancestor’s honour or even survive until adulthood.

For some backstory about the other mentioned characters; Bethesda is a leader in the flock and a rather stoic woman; Hero is the same age group and is also part of a famous bloodline, she’s spoilt and considers herself a good guy because of it; Polyxene is another of the same age group, she was born with 4 wings/arms and isolates herself because of it; Pallas is Aisch’s older sister and a rather famous warrior, she lives in another clan however; Velvet is Aisch’s childhood best friend and was born deaf; Hagne is the local “priestess” who seeks to correct the wrong of Aisch’s birth, by teaching him to be a good harpy.

His backstory is still largely a WIP, so sorry if it’s a bit vague.

Name: Aischylos (meaning Shame) Aliases: Aisch Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Unknown/Bi? (harpies are weird in the way that they’re all basically aro-ace, but some have an interest in members of other species) Age: 21 years old Birthdate: 4th of September Occupation: Scout

Alignment: Neutral Group/Organizational Affiliations: Aello Clan

Family: Bethesda (mother), Pallas (older sister) Best Friends: Velvet Relationship Status: Single Significant Other: None Other Relationships: Hero (rival), Polyxene (enemy), Satyrion (friend), Hagne (mentor)

Height: 5'6" Weight: Underweight Build: Lithe/Light Skin Tone: Creamy-brown Hair: Dark mocha colour with darker tips Eyes: Amber Identifying Marks: Multiple scars including a missing claw, prominate dark stripes (markings). Appearance: Small, lithe male with shiny dark brown feathers that look rainbow in certain light (I can’t remember what this effect is called). He has a light cream underside and black-brown stripes on his back and wings. Has many scars including a large on across his face (forehead to down his nose and his left cheek), a missing claw on his right foot and a plucked chest which reveals many smaller scars obtained during his youth.

Personality: A curious but shy young harpy. He is nervous around others of his kind, but warms up quickly to strangers of another species. He is naturally cautious, but tends to be forgiving. Aggressiveness is not in his nature as he prefers to avoid a fight. He has a strong interest in humans and their technology. Due to his upbringing, he tends to be a loner, distancing himself from others for his own sake. He dislikes large groups and will usually hang out on his own or with Velvet. He’s nervous around essentric or loud people; instinctively afraid of them due to the bullying he’s suffered from Hero. Aisch is rather submissive as well, constantly apologizing for his mistakes even if he doesn’t make any. However, he’s not exactly self-loathing. Thanks to Hange’s teachings, he’s aware that others’ hatred of him stems from his gender, not who he is personally. Due to this, he tries to judge others based on their personality rather than what they look like.

Motivations: The reputation of his bloodline, his personal pride, the need to protect Velvet Current Goal: To be respected among his peers Life Goal: To uphold the family honour and escape the misandry of the clans. Ultimately to seat himself at the head of a clan council and prove himself worthy

Motto: “Life is about being the best you can be, even if it’s worse than the people around you. If you do your personal best, that’s all that matters.”

Best Quality: His curiosity and open-mindedness Worst Quality: His anxiety and paranoia Fears: -Bullies -The sea -Being alone -Storms -Lightning

Hobbies: Studying humans, collecting artifacts (usually human tools or artifacts from other mythos species), watching the lake

Talents: Flight- Due to a life of running away from bullies, he’s adept at flight; mainly turning sharp corners and flying through tight spaces. He’s able to pull up from a highspeed dive as well.

Skills: Stealth- His small size and mottled feather patterns allow him to hide easily in nature.

Secret: He often wishes he was born female and sometimes pretends to be one in secret or when playing with Velvet. He doesn’t suffer from dysmorphia however and is not trans

Influential Memory: (Spoiler territory for my book) At age 12, he and Velvet were flying around the dam exploring the coastline. Deciding to be a bit daring, they fly out to sea a little and fish around. Soon, a storm blows in and in the middle of it, they’re tossed around and barely escape being drowned. However, as they reach the dam wall, Velvet is struck by lightning and killed, scarring Aischylos for life.

Role Model: Bethesda, Pallas Crush: - Source of Embarrassment: His gender and small build Source of Pride: His intelligence and flying ability

Hello! It sounds like you have a really interesting setting concept here, and I'm very interested in how this all fits together. At first, though, I was honestly a little concerned - there are a lot of worldbuilding details here, and I thought you might be submitting your setting for critique rather than your character! I was relieved to see that this is not the case, but in future, you may want to pull back on telling me too much about the setting. Remember, we don't need to know everything about it. Just the basics are fine!

So let's get into the basics of Aischylos, shall we?

First off, this is a character name that could actually use a pronunciation guide. I know how it sounds in my head, but I'm not sure if that's how it sounds in your head. I find myself stumbling over it whenever I read it in a sentence, and it's hard to spell it without looking at it. That may be something you want to take into consideration for future readers. I like that you've included a basic statement of the relationships he has with the other mentioned characters in parentheses with their names; that helps me keep them straight in my head. His basics and appearance make sense since I know that he's a harpy from your setting description. I believe the effect you're referring to on his feathers is "iridescence", but I could be wrong.

I like the personality you've described for Aisch. It makes sense, given the culture he was raised in. However, you haven't really included a backstory for him, so I can't tell you if it would fit in with where he's coming from. Normally, I wouldn't even provide a critique for a character without a backstory, but I'm making an exception in this case because I think that you do have one - it just isn't explicitly written out in paragraph form. You need to work on that, if you choose to revise Aisch.

Since you haven't included any questions for me to address, I'm not sure what you're looking for in this critique. The major problem I'm seeing here is that without a backstory, it's very hard to make out where Aisch is in his story and where he's going from here. On the one hand, one of his motivations is to protect Velvet; on the other hand, he has a memory of her death. Is she alive or not? I don't know. You could also use some proofreading - there are a few minor typos and places where you could tighten up your sentence structure, although they're not too jarring.

You clearly have some very solid ideas here and I think you know what you want out of this character and where you're going with this story. You just need to bring it across more clearly in this profile, so that I know, too. If you choose to revise Aisch, I would be happy to take another look at him. Until then, I hope this helps, and good luck!

-Kyo

#SOC Critique #OC Critique #submission

[tumblunni]

HEYO! oh man now my friend helped me get all inspired again for working on my Cathedral Tower Defense game so WOO lets have another long post of miscellaneous ideasies for storyness! may not be very coherant tho cos i am super tired and ill! but happy!! THANKS SUMMON-DAZE FOR BEING MY ULTRA BESTIE

* Okay now I am super sure that I’m gonna let you choose the gender of the protagonist! And I wanna keep it so that their name is Amity either way, cos that’s kinda stuck in my mind. Surname Amity, player gets to decide the first name, but people will still be calling you Amity a lot at first cos you start off all awkward and formal with everybody. You’re a newcomer to this cathedral town and nobody knows whether to trust you, from their perspective you’re this dangerous person theyre forced to accept just because they need you to help protect them, whether you’re good or bad. They’re all worried what price they might have to pay for this, trying to figure out how to minimize the damage if you turn on them... and its not like they’re bad people for being untrustworthy, they’re just scared people huddling in a church and trying to keep their families safe at any cost. So try and prove your worth to them, and help them learn to protect themselves too, and make this ramshackle settlement into a real home! ....anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, gender selection is a good! And it could be relatively easy to impliment too, cos of the situation. Doesnt even necessarily have to be a menu or anything, it could just be like sir amity/lady amity/master amity. Cos you’re this paladin knighto, itd make sense for them to ask for your title. And it could just be like a shot of protagonist’s badass silhouette in the gateway of the cathedral and then you get the dialogue choice to pick your identity, and its all Super Cool~!

* It also actually gives me more of an idea of what i could do for their design, like I dunno maybe they have some sort of face-concealing helm or headdress or something. I was just thinking of them being dressed like a generic nun or princess but maybe emphasize more on the knight aspect instead of the holy part? So like anyway, maybe they have a very all-concealing outfit and that could be the framing of the first scene instead, its like *pulls off the mask and you’re into the character selection screen* Orrrrrr maybe there doesnt need to be any magical setup for a gender selection and it can just be a menu before the first scene starts XD Or maybe you have a cool face-concealing helmet thing anyway, like all three gender options just have a different one, lol

* More random magical names i got via the cool name generator site summon-daze linked to me! Dunno if I’ll actually use any of these but im writing them down here so i dont forget. Berebath, Betnia, Amurziz, Jetre, Miemahl, Semdach, Batxahl, Sidefarch, Botolohn, Vausach, Thammoch, Droibhal, Lekonach, Zeidhal, Tieloch, Rabrohm, Maesur, Smoiroch, Baelbuhr, Axoth, Jige, Chushou, Hukru, Nejeget, Roucu,  Jinah, Aujus, Yekoth, Nugresah, Israfel, Jabriel, Tabris, Douma

* Also I’m remembering Jade Cocoon and how I liked that the different ‘families’ of monsters shared naming traits. Like how all those weird snake/slug cutiepies that i loved best were nushab, rashab, etc etc. And tamatoch and somethingtoch and so on. I think there was at least one where the modifier was a prefix too? I dunno why i’m talking about this, but there you go. I just think if i wanna do full original made up names for demon species then i wanna make em stuff that just... feels like that. I dont actually wanna make like five different elements of each one tho, i wanna have only one per element and then they have like two different higher level finalized forms. Like, the human characters can have two job classes each and the demons can have two specializations within an element. That helps me think about how to limit it down to four or five elements, if we can combine common fantasy elements together! And yeah I was thinking it’d be cool if the demon ‘job classes’ could have their own evolving appearances and new names!

* Thoughts for the ol elemental groupings! The only one I really have finalized is grass + poison = same thing. Florin, why u always the character that gets developed faster than everyone else XD And I’m thinking giving them their own made up names would make it easier! Like how in SMT you have spells being stuff like ‘media’ and ‘agi’ instead of cure and fire. But here (hopefully) it’d be easier to memorize cos its just the element names that’re fantasy words, and the attacks themselves would be a little more self explanatory. i just think it’d work cos like... the idea i had of rock and fire being one single demon type, you could just call that magma. But i mean, what can you call plant + poison? Except.. like.. plant. Cos poison is reasonably often a grass type skill anyway. And i mean, game creators dont often worry about making sense, what with how ‘grass’ is the common element name when thats just one plant in a million. I cant stop thinking about that now I’ve noticed it! I legit thought grass was a synonym for plant when i was a kid, i learned to read from pokemon yellow... ANYWAY IM GETTING OFFTOPIC AGAIN The other idea I had for groupings was fire + non-elemental together? I was just thinking like... aura. Non elemental/physical attack as a ‘magic’ could be fighting spirit! And thematically speaking it tends to be shown as fire effects in anime, i guess XD But then i couldnt put fire with rock and that means I’d have to redesign malachi again. his design ended up looking more firey than rocky :P Another idea is maybe darkness + non-elemental together? like, interpret non-elemental as ‘void’. Or light and dark could be together actually, that could be an interesting way to do it, instead of having them opposing. Like maybe the elements could be colours! Grey element, able to specialize into white or black but neither is any sort of ‘good and evil’. And then the rest could be like green or like.. instead of red maybe fire could be bronze and thats why it has rock skills too? or man, maybe rock and metal could be one element and fire could be grouped with something else. And would water and ice be too ordinary and boring? do they already kinda count as one element? should I throw in something else? GAHHHHHHH

* Ideas for the multiple religious groups aligned with each element! I’m thinking I want one of them to interpret the setting’s absent god as two deities. like, every perspective on this deity is a wildly different character, this one is just even more so! they’d see malahat (tentative name) as two people, but kinda more like a shared soul that can manifest as either a male or female form. But there’d be ambiguity and debates in the mythos over whether this is actually a genderfluid god, or if its ‘twins who were cursed to never exist at the same time’, or various other variations on the story. I wanna make it like real life, where even within (for example) catholocism, there’s different sects and different translations of the same text. And where there’s predjudice against minority groups and people like to twist their faith to ‘justify’ it, even when parts of the original tale could easily justify treating those people with kindness too. So there’d be some followers of the twins religion who are very openminded to LGBTQ people, and historically anyone trans was able to hold a unique position as a priest, being treated as someone blessed by god. But like in norse mythology, this wasnt necessarily a sign that society was 100% okay with LGBTQ people. Its kinda depressing to read about how trans women and gay men were considered the only people able to become a specific kind of witches, but also how you kinda HAD to take this one safety net in society to stop people from making you an outcast. It was like ‘make them fear me so they dont fuckin kill me’. You had to become a medicine person and at least claim to believe in these magic powers, you had to be blessed by the gods to prove you were like.. one of the good ones. Otherwise its like youre saying the gods made a mistake when they made you, or youre choosing to be a deviant against nature. i can only imagine how terrifying it must have been if you believed in that religion and had to like.. be forced to go against it and leave society, or be forced to lie about being chosen by a god for a higher purpose, while believing that any moment you might get struck down for lying. And then I read in other history books about how the concept of homosexuality was far different in that old society too, how male-on-male sex was accepted at sea as long as you were the dominant one and you were forcing something unwanted onto a lesser shipmate as punishment. Like ugh, rape being more socially accepted than consensual LGBTQ relationships! I guess the only solace is that we can never be 100% sure how much of historians’s theories are correct and what might have changed in retellings of history, but honestly I can believe the past is this fucked up when the present is already fucked up in different ways. BUT ANYWAY I wanna explore those themes in my story maybe. And I wanna do more research into the subject to make sure I’m doing it justice, even though its a very sad subject that might be quite stressful. Maaaaan, I remember how I used to obsess about researching norse myth as a kid, it was one of my first Special Interests and I really wanted to see all the different reinterpretations of Loki and write my own fanfic/adaptation/vaguely inspired original story about What If He Stayed A Good Guy. Man I had soooo much sympathy for the poor sod. I mean it depends on the retelling whether he was always evil or whether he was like a comedic neutral ally to the gods who just abruptly becomes evil and gets killed off without remorse in the final story. And gahhh he’s like the biggest LGBTQ bastion in the whole mythos, and how can I not feel sympathetic?? When we get all these stories about him being a literal genderfluid shapeshifter and giving birth to half of his children and just like seriously its like The Story Of the One Trans Man In Homophobic Transphobic Valhalla and he was probably meant to seem Bad and Funny and whatever but im gonna sit here and grumpily cling onto the idea that he was deliberately written as trans, or that if these gods actually do exist out there somewhere then Loki would support me. *pout* I just have a lot of good memories of how this was like the first sign of me realizing my own gender, back when I first learned about Loki in school and then devoured every damn history book about the dude. And got in a million internet pissing matches about how innacurate the marvel version was XD Also it sucks that we like to believe that modern times are always 100% more enlightened in every way, yet its modern adaptations that always censor out the bits about him shifting gender identities and getting pregnant once. ... man this has gone offtopic too much, im really tired but seriously its funny how teenage bunni had NO CLUE they were nonbinary, no clue why they got so obsessed researching gender-defying mythological figures and historians who created gender neutral pronouns in the 1800s. i was so supernaturally oblivious, holy shit...

#cathedral tower defense