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writeslikeanaria · 9 months

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i’ve seen the devil in every face

ominis gaunt x reader (technically sebastian sallow x reader)

summary: your boyfriend lives with the demons of never being able to see what you look like. that's when he figures out a way to finally be able to look at you; by wearing the face of his best friend.

word count: 5k+

warnings: SMUT, consent is tricky but i'll just stick with dubious, immoral use of the polyjuice potion, angst, confused reader, m!oral, p in v, opportunity for an incredibly angst filled part two

Potions class seemed to be longer than normal. Having finished your potion earlier than everyone else, your only task now was to finish theory book work, a task that genuinely pained you to complete. Books strewn open, you rested your head against the desk, eyes closed, trying to find will within you to actually dip your quill in the ink that rested next to you.

With your vision gone, you used your imagination to picture the chaos happening around you. A cracking pop sounded off in the room, followed by a stench of rotten fish. Fizzing arose in the room, making your skin prick up from the feeling of electricity. From behind your eyes, you could see a bright white light flash, and a groan from your upset classmate followed suit.

For a moment, you realised that this was reality for your blind boyfriend, Ominis, only able to use his other senses to imagine the world. A brief sadness crept over you, leaving a whimper to come out of your mouth, something that was noticed by your potions partner next to you, Sebastian.

“You alright?” He glanced over at you, cocking an eyebrow, quill hovering in the air.

You opened one eye, adjusting to the bright overhead candle that filled your vision in a flood of white. Sebastian looked down at you, some sort of concern on his face, chewing on the end of his quill. You groaned. “Just peachy…” You paused. “Just thinking.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

Lifting your head slightly, you look across the potion classroom, until your eyes land on the innocent target, blissfully unaware of your stalking eyes. Ominis, busy hunched over a potions book, was reading some words out to his partner, Leander. He seemed frustrated though, eyebrows furrowed deeply, as he kept rubbing his milky white eyes out of pure exhaustion.

From just what you could witness, you knew how annoyed your boyfriend was getting by the ginger’s antics. You had heard many times about how “utterly useless and incorrigible” Leander was, through Ominis’ midnight rantings. Laying in bed, head on his heaving chest, you listened to his stream of consciousness. You pouted at the sight of his anger.

“Ominis doesn’t look happy today.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian turned back to his book. “When is he ever when he's in potions class? Poor thing has to deal with Leander for two hours twice a week, I’m surprised he hasn’t ripped all his hair out of head. Pure misery, that’s him.” Sebastian bit his lip, a thought entering his head. “And it doesn’t help that he’s been unusually stroppy the last couple of days.”

You peered at Sebastian, narrowing your eyes, confused. You had barely had time to see your boyfriend in the past couple of days, so you hadn’t noticed any foul behaviour. “What do you me–”

Unfortunately, your question remained unanswered, as the shrill voice of Professor Sharp rang off across the classroom, scolding none other than Garreth Weasley. His face was so close to Garreth’s that they were almost touching. “How dare you not follow my instructions? Detention all next week. Now, clean this up and complete your actual task for homework.”

You snickered, burying your head in your arms, unable to hide away the humour in the situation. Making eye contact with the boy in trouble, he shrugged his shoulders at you. Although Professor Sharp had just told him to discard his potion, you watched as Garreth blatantly discarded those instructions, instead pouring the potion he was working on into a separate flask, before collecting his books back up.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class, but you stayed rooted to your seat as you watched Garreth with intrigue, suddenly fascinated with what he was up to. As everyone filed out of class, you opted to corner your ginger friend, closing in on his defeated stature. His face was sallow, but he still kept a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Backing away your bag, you vaguely registered Sebastian trying to talk to you, but you brushed him off, flaying your hand in the air, dismissively. As much as you loved your best friend, you currently didn’t have time for his questions.

Sliding on over to Garreth’s station, you pick up one of his scrawled notebooks, cheekily. “A little birdie told me you got told off again.”

Garreth jumped slightly at your appearance. “Well, then someone should do something about that gossip of a bird.” He lunged towards the book you were holding. “And we give that back!”

There was no point keeping it anyway, unable to read what covered the pages anyway. Garreth’s handwriting was like chicken scratch. Handing him back his book, you laughed at him, before eyeing the suspicious potion peeking out of his satchel bag. “What’s that?”

“Nothing interesting.” Garreth closed the lid on his bag, keeping the mystery out of sight. You frowned, not usually having to deal with Garreth’s secrecy. Normally, he lets you into his devious plans.

Sighing, you began slowly walking away. “Oh, but it would be such a shame if Professor Sharp found out that you kept some of the potion he told you to discard–”

“Alright!” Garreth stopped you. “It really isn’t anything interesting, I promise, but if you’re still curious, meet me in the abandoned potions classroom on the second floor at midnight. Don’t be late.”

You grinned. You weren’t planning on it.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

When midnight finally came, you were more than excited for your nighttime escape. Cladded in a woollen jumper and tough shoes, you quietly crept down the staircases into the darkness of your common room. As you were about to slink through the door, a voice stopped you in your tracks, calling your name.

“Is that you?”

You immediately recognised the confused tone in your boyfriend’s voice, and a soft chuckle slipped from your mouth. Embarrassed, you covered your reddening face. “Hello darling, I didn’t see you sitting in the dark.”

Ominis pouted. “I didn’t realise a lamp wasn’t on. I was just doing some reading. Have you come to join me?”

“I would love to, truly, but I had other plans for tonight.” You bit your lip in thought. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

A loud groan escaped from Ominis, as he landed his heavy head in his lap. “Can’t sleep, too busy… thinking.”

You moved towards your troubled boyfriend, placing your hand around his. “A penny for your thoughts? I’ve noticed you’ve been… antsy recently, and I can’t help but feel like I'm doing anything for you.” You placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “What’s going on?”

Ominis cringed. “I don’t know how to speak about this; it’s too difficult to even word. And I don’t want to think you did anything wrong–”

“Wait, what?”

“–You’ve been nothing but amazing with everything. You’ve been doting, and kind, and thoughtful, and the time I spend with you, just you, is more cherishable than any worldly possession.”

“Then what’s wrong?” You pressed.

“I–” Ominis sighed. “Everytime we are intimate, I get sad.”

That definitely wasn’t what you were expecting Ominis to say. You retracted your hands for him, unsure if it was out of shock or mild disgust towards what he had said. Never in a million years had you expected your boyfriend, your loving, passionate boyfriend, to admit that love making with you had a melancholic effect on his psyche. Your face contorted with defiance, but you didn’t know how to fight this battle.

You pursed your lips. “Do I disgust you?”

In a flash of seconds, you could see every stage of grief flash over Ominis’ milky eyes, as he reached back towards your hands with comfort. You always relished in the warmth he would give you.

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Ominis started. “I just meant that I feel as though my loss of sight is hindering my experience. Obviously, it’s not, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on seeing you, my beauty, my radiance, the light of my life. Sometimes I wonder how I can feel whole if I can’t even see my other half. Every single time I hear someone compliment your appearance, I just wish I could see you. Everytime you’re under me, I just wish I could see you. Do you understand?”

You didn’t know if you did, but you nodded carefully, stroking small circles on the backs of Ominis’ mole-covered hands, in an attempt to find comfort for him. What you did understand was how difficult this must’ve been to tell you, and you couldn’t be happier that he was actually communicating with you. Leaning into him, you smiled. “Would you like to talk more about this in the morning?”

Ominis smiled. “Sure.”

“Would you like to accompany me to the abandoned potions classroom on the second floor?”

Ominis screwed his face up in confusion. “Why on earth would you want to go to that musty place at this time of night?”

You giggled. “Garreth seems to be working on a secret potion, and I’m curious to see what he’s up to.”

It didn’t take long to convince your stubborn boyfriend, as in a matter of minutes, you were slinking hand in hand, under a disillusionment spell, across the deserted halls of Hogwarts at night. It was a peaceful adventure, one that really helped calm you both down after the intensity of your previous conversation.

Unfortunately, the words Ominis had spoken still lingered in your mind like cigarette smoke. You couldn’t help but ponder what he had said, as if you were the problem. You knew that Ominis would never place blame on you, but you wish you had noticed sooner.

Every time you crawled into bed together, a mess of teeth and tongue, flesh and slick, you should’ve noticed the abundance of tension seeping out of his muscles, or the way he would hold back from touching you, from being close to you. There were so many signs that you were embarrassed that you hadn’t caught on to any of them. Were you a bad person?

Those thoughts were soon pushed out of your conscious mind when you arrived at your discreet destination. Creeping open the door, you were welcomed by the most vile stench you had every smell, bile rising in your throat as you coughed violently.

“What the hell are you making in here?” You spluttered, unable to think properly from the fumes. Luckily you had your boyfriend holding you arms, stopping you from falling over.

Garreth’s lifted his head up as he noticed you walk in, a giant grin stretched across his cheeks. “Ah, you finally came, and you brought a guest. The more the merrier, they say.” He welcomed you in, clapping his hands against your back. “You’re just in time for the main event.”

You could still hardly breathe from the vileness secreting into your sinuses. “Please make this worth it. I cannot begin to describe how putrid this room smells. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up in the hospital room because of this.”

“You’ve got it easy.” Garreth laughed. “I have to drink this.” With fascination plastered on your face, you watched as the ginger placed the last ingredient into a small volume of the potion, and swirled it around his flask. You watched as the liquid changed colours very slightly.

Finally, Ominous asked the million dollar question. “What actually is that?”

With one gulp, Garreth drank the entire flask, pouring it down his throat with ease, but reacting to the taste like hot lava. After every last drop was swallowed, he finally gave an answer to the question. “Polyjuice potion. Tastes disgusting, but the results are fascinating. That last ingredient I added in? Those were human hairs, belonging to Professor Sharp. In just a few moments you’ll see what I mean by fascinating results, because the polyjuice potions changes your appearance to make you look like someone else.”

He wasn’t lying. Within short moments, Garreth had grown several inches, became thinner, more wrinklier, with his usual flaming locks transforming into dark brown hair. It was exhilarating to watch your best friend become a whole different person.

You spoke first. “Garreth?”

Your friend rubbed his eyes, no longer focussing on you two. Instead, he squinted in frustration. “Ugh, Professor Sharp’s eyesight sucks; It’s so blurry. This man cannot see shit.”

Laughing at those comments, you dismissed them right away, but your boyfriend seemed intrigued by what Garreth was saying, still rubbing his eyes out of annoyance. “What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me that you’ve adopted the same eyesight as Sharp?”

“Yeah, and it’s awful.” Garreth laughed. Walking over to a deserted closet in the classroom, Garreth grabbed out a bunch of clothes that bore a striking resemblance to the ones that Professor Sharp would normally wear, but you took no interest in Garreth’s immature plans. You believed fully that Garreth’s next plans would include terrorising a bunch of year two’s who were still awake at this time of night. What interested you the most was the quizzical look on Ominis’ face.

“What are you thinking?”

Ominous grunted. “Be quiet, I have a plan.”

For the next few minutes, you made careless conversation with your friend, who explained to you the extent of his plan for the next hour, which included, but was not limited to, sneaking into the teacher’s quarters, stealing all their sweets, and trying his luck at the restricted section. With adrenaline, Garreth’s bumbling attitude had him out the door within minutes, leaving you and Ominis alone in the classroom. Alone with the remnants of the polyjuice potion.

Your boyfriend struck first, heading towards the still full potion. You tried to stop him, but with no luck. “Ominis, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I found a solution to our problems. One mouthful of that disgusting potion and I’ll be able to see your beautiful face, in all your glory. I have no care to worry about the temporary, but I’ll be able to finally see my shining star, my angel. You don’t realise how hard it is to go about my life, wishing I could see your eyes, and your smile, and your hair, and your beautiful lips. I need to do this.”

“And then what?” You questioned his frantic plan. “We share intimacy? You may be sharing intimacy with me, but I’ll have to stare at the face of someone who isn’t mine. I’ll have to live with the guilt of knowing another man who isn’t you.”

“But it is me!” Ominis raised his voice at you. “I am me, emotionally, spiritually, consciously. All you will have to know is the physicalities of another man.” His voice settled, calming down a bit. “I understand your point of you, and all I have to counter it is, for me? I know I cannot force you, but I know I can plead with you, even if you shut me down before I can even present my case.”

You bit your lip in anguish. “How sure are you? I need to know you are completely comfortable with this. This would be the strangest thing we’ve ever shared between us, and I need to know that this is exactly what you want.”

“I want this.” Ominis sighed, cupping your face with his hands. “Finally, I want to know you with all my senses.” He placed a kiss against your lips. “I need to know what love at first sight feels like to a man.”

You returned the kiss with fervour. “I will. I will for you. I love you Ominis.” Resting your head on his shoulder, another question popped into your mind.”

“Ominis.” He hummed in response. “Who are you going to choose to, you know, turn into?”

“Don’t worry. I have someone in mind.”

•┈୨♡୧┈•

Sebastian looked like he was about to doze off at the breakfast table, eye bags dark, head lost between the pages of some tatted book that he probably found illegally in the library. His brown locks were a mess atop his head and he had taken no notice of you and Ominis standing in the entrance of the hall, watching him from a distance.

“Sebastian.” You asked incredulously. “Really?”

Ominis scoffed, brushing you off. “He’s the only choice really. He’s the only person I trust you to know physically, since he is my best friend. I’ve also heard that he’s quite handsome, so I don’t know why you’re objecting.”

“I- It’s Sebastian! He would never agree to that.”

“He wouldn’t have to know.” Ominis smirked. “Now be a good girl and help me distract him so we can get a few hairs off of the top of his head, okay?”

And that’s how you found yourself sitting abnormally close to Sebastian, basically breathing down his neck, trying to get him to lean down just a bit more, but it proved to be a more difficult task than you initially thought.

“No, I don’t see the runes at the bottom of the page.” Sebastian squinted once more at the page in front of him, but refused to move his head downwards like you needed him to. You were about to give up when an idea struck, noticing a strange fold in the page. Just as Sebastian moved the book slightly, you pointed downwards.

“Did something just fall out of the book?”

Sebastian ducked immediately. “Where?” His voice went gruff as he finally looked closely at the bottom of the book, giving Ominis an ample opportunity to gently pluck a few hairs off of the top of Sebastian’s head, without the poor boy even noticing. When Ominis gave a nod, you knew that he had gotten what he needed.

You tutted. “Nevermind, it’s just a fold in the page.” You rested your head in your hand and sighed dramatically. “I thought I saw something.”

“It’s alright.” Sebastian muttered. “It’s no use anyway. I’m so tired, I just want to go to bed right now.”

“Early night?” You joked, but then saw Ominis shaking his head at you. Right, you guys would need the dorm room tonight, for activities. “You could– uh, sleep in the undercroft! Surely sleeping in a room without Ominis’ incessant snoring is exactly what you need tonight.

“What I need is a beater’s club to my head,” Sebastian smirked. “But a night alone sounds great as well.”

•┈୨♡୧┈•

It was almost time. Saying goodbye to Sebastian and sending him on his way was easy enough. With enough encouragement, he was gone before the sun had even fallen asleep beneath the hills, leaving the entire dormitory to you and your boyfriend, whose eyes had not stopped glinting with mischief all day.

The entire day had been a mixture of teasing touches, and whispers of dirty promises. You could still feel the feeling of Ominis’ hands creeping up your skirt in class, tracing your delicate thighs with the traction of a feather. The hot breath of his words still melted against your ears like an ice cold glass of water, and you were so thirsty.

But first, Ominis had to drink the potion.

“I really hope it’s not as awful as Garreth said it was.” You said, eying the murky brown liquid. “But by the smell of the classroom last night, I don’t think it’s going to taste like liquid gold either. Promise you’ll drink some water afterwards?”

Ominis sniffed the flask suspiciously. “It may taste, and smell, differently after adding the hairs, but I doubt so, unfortunately. I wonder if my taste buds will even survive this torture.”

“Well, for my sake,” You pointed downwards, towards your woman region,“and for my girl’s sake, I hope your taste buds come out the other side of this stronger than ever.”

The innuendo was not lost on your boyfriend, who now eagerly added the final remaining ingredient to the flask. Like last time, the colour faded slightly, into more of a mellow mud colour. Bringing the potion up to his nose, Ominous took a sniff, but didn’t recoil.

“Well?”

Ominis hummed. “Isn’t as bad as I expected. Almost woodsy. Like tree bark, or forest leaves. Doesn’t carry the same putridness as the one from last night. I’d even say this one is somewhat pleasant.” He dipped his finger in the potion. “It feels warm. Like a cup of tea. It’s odd.”

You egged him on. “Are you gonna drink it?”

“Patience.” Ominis laughed, but he followed through with your queries, throwing his head back and swallowing the potion in one.

The effects started showing immediately. The white blouse that Ominis was wearing became too small for his torso, looking like it was about to burst at the seams, as his muscles filled out, and his shoulders broadened like the parting of a sea. Shrinking only half an inch, he now sat at Sebastian’s height, now growing into those features. Gone were those chiselled cheeks, replaced with the smattering of freckles across his face. Hair turned from gold to bronze, and eyes from the ocean to the earth.

“How do I look?” Sebastian– Ominis asked, voice now replaced with the slightly Scottish tenor of his best mate’s, turning towards you.

It was all so confusing. There stood your best friend, but with the mannerisms and posture of your boyfriends. Your body was conflicted too, as you couldn’t help but look at the physicality of your best friend in a new light.

Ominis seemed to be going through his own internal conflict. When he first took the potion he really had no idea if he was going to notice any change with his sight, but when it became bright, too bright, he knew that his hypothesis had been true. It was strange at first, adjusting to a whole new sense. His brain was confused, angry almost, trying to force him back down into a headache, but he persisted.

The world seemed strange. Finally, he knew what it meant to see colour, to see light, and to see beauty. He thought the bed was beautiful. He thought the floor was beautiful. He thought the walls around him were beautiful, but most importantly, the woman in front of him was more than beautiful.

Like an iridescent angel fallen from the heavens above, she was perfect to him. Beautiful didn’t even cover the beginning of what he thought about his girlfriend. Unable to articulate verbally, he stood motionless, as the angel before him tried to capture his attention away from his admiration.

“Ominis, are you okay? Did it work?” You asked cautiously, worried about what emotions he could possibly be feeling if the answer was no, but the way he was actually facing you, actually looking at you, you were sure that you knew the answer.

Ominis took a breath. “I understand what beautiful is.” He took one step towards you, reaching outwards, but your body didn’t naturally move towards him, still hesitant about yearning for Sebastian’s face and Sebastian’s physique. It wasn’t quite right.

It didn’t feel quite right as his lips touched yours, moving naturally, but feeling like a stranger. You melted like you normally did, but it was with effort, still getting used to the scent of Sebastian wafting into your veins. Reciprocating Ominis’ love filled kiss was more difficult than you would’ve ever thought. You hated how you felt.

“I need you.” Ominis muttered, his voice silky like Sebastian’s. “I need to see what you look like when you’re pleased. I need to know what pleasure looks like dressed on you. I need to see you contort yourself like a good girl. I need you.”

How could you deny such pleads? Nodding along to the words he spoke, you started on the buttons of your blouse, but were soon swatted from your task, your hands quickly replaced by Sebas– Ominis’ hand. It didn’t feel right watching Sebastian undress you, so you closed your eyes, resting against the unusually broad chest in front of you.

If Ominis noticed your internal conflict, he didn’t mention it, having the time of his life running his hands down the curves of your soft body, melting at the images he now didn’t have to visualise himself. Reaching down, he placed open mouthed kisses against your throat, eliciting moans from your throat.

He was marking you, you knew that. The mouth of your best friend was claiming you as a lover, and you enjoyed it, finding pleasure in the heat of the moment, pooling in your panties shamefully. Something about what Ominis was capable of made you fall from your grace and become nothing but a dog in heat. Wrapping your arms around his frame, you pulled him in closer, under you could hear his voice against the shell of your ear. “Get on your knees.”

You knew it was your Ominis, but you hesitated at Sebastian's voice. Obeying anyway, suck downwards, opening up for what was expected. Except, it wasn’t the familiar cock of your boyfriend. It was different from usual, slightly thicker, shorter, with unfamiliar veins running up the length.

“Suck it.” Ominis’ domineering personality crept out, and you obeyed. It was odd at first, but you got used to this new weight. At first, you placed a gentle kiss at the tip of his cock, watching the precum leak out in generous blobs. Your tongue darted out, lapping greedily at what you were given. Even the taste was different, slightly saltier, slightly muskier. Slicking up the entirety of his cock, you coated it generously, before opening your mouth wider to take more.

With enthusiasm, you took him all, pumping what was remaining with your left hand, and leaving your right hand to rest against his thigh, that twitched with every harsh sucked. His skin, covered in goosebumps, was on fire, the electricity of the moment throbbing in his cock. Ominis wasn’t going to last long, and you knew it.

Still, you threw your head forward, swallowing the tip, feeling him stutter with your movements. Hands threaded in your hair, tugging on your roots, getting a good grip on your head. Ominis had obviously had enough of your teasing, and decided to use you as he needed. It wasn’t long before until you felt his breathing change and his voice falter.

“I’m gonna–”

Cum. It splurted down your throats, in thick ropes you had never experienced before. It was all too much as you lurched away from the cock, more cum landing across your cheeks and necks. Looking up through glazed eyes and thick eyelashes, you watched Sebastian above you, peering down at you curious.

Nimble fingers stroked your face, moving around the sticky liquid, making even more of a mess as his face lit up in delight. You hated the way your body clenched at the thought of Sebastian taking you, needing that spent cock inside of you as soon as possible. You whimpered.

“Please…”

“Please what?” Ominis asked, tugging on his spent cock, slowly hardening again in the palm of his hand. You ducked your head embarrassed.

“Please fuck me.”

You were surprised he didn’t make you beg, as he lifted you up with an ease he’d never experience. Manhandling you onto the nearest bed, he pressed your chest down on the mattress, and flipped up your skirt. You didn’t even have any time to voice your confusion before the thick cock slid into your slick folds, forcing a moan out of you immediately.

Reaching for the blankets to have something, anything, to ground yourself with, you took the hammering like a champion. The immediate pace was frenzied, with no warming up on your part at all. You felt more alive than ever, alert as his deft hands curled around your wrists, holding them together as leverage to get a better angle.

You were drooling on the blankets. The angle was perfectly hitting your g-spot with every rough thrust, the material of the duvet rubbing against your swollen, patient clit, in desperate need of some attention. Every nerve on your body was screaming in pleasure and pain, completely conflicted with every emotion that struck your heart. At least you didn’t have to look into the eyes of your best friend.

Finally, Ominis let go of one of your hands, snaking around your front so he could begin his assault on your clit. His voice was gruff in your ear. “I need you to come for me baby.”

You nodded pathetically, eyes rolling back as every thrust inside of you became more agitated than the last. Tears were free falling from your face now. In the midst of your pleasure, you didn’t even notice the door to the dormitories open, until you heard the voice of…

“What?!”

Turning your head, you couldn’t help let a pained sob out of your throat as you laid eyes with another Sebastian, the Sebastian. In an instance, there was no longer a body pressing down on you, letting you sink down onto the ground. You barely registered that sound of an angry spell being cast across the dorm room, followed by the patting of footsteps both across the dorm, towards the door, and towards you.

You knew it was the real Sebastian still left in the room as you felt a blanket cover your half naked form, keeping your modesty. You knew it was the real Sebastian as when you fell into his shoulder, unable to keep in the tears, he hesitated before placing a comforting hand against your bare shoulder. You knew it was the real Sebastian as he asked you repeatedly what was going on.

You knew he saw himself, fucking you like it was a matter of life and death, a reflection of a reality that his brain couldn’t comprehend.

You, on the other hand, had no thoughts left, falling unconscious on the shoulder of your best friend, with your boyfriend having run away in shame.

“i've seen the devil,

down sunset,

in every place,

in every face.”

–––

ouch angst. owie.

taglist: @slootmagix, @pretendthisusernameisgoodd, @froggyinaspen, @bxrabbito, @1800-madisonnn

#ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #fanfic #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x you #angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Fresh Pain

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍭🍭🍭

Hot pain shoots down your arm. You groan as you wiggle your fingers and give up. It hurts too much. You gnash your teeth and whimper. You puff through your nose as agony courses through your muscles.

The gunshot echoes in your mind. Birdy. You should’ve known she’d blab. You really didn’t think she was that stupid. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?

You sigh. What can you do now? Stay angry? She might deserve it but not as much as they fuckwads who took you.

“You’re not helping yourself,” the man says as he rouses in the chair. He sits up and stretches his neck. “You tense up like that and it’s only gonna get worse.”

“Like you give a shit,” you growl. “Easier to trade us like cattle if we can’t fight back.”

He snickers, “well, I did tell him not to fire into the goddamn car but I think he did us all a favour clipping your wing.”

Your eyes roll back and you curl your lip. His arrogance reminds you of Sam in a way, but there’s less humour there. He’s king shit among the shitlords.

“So, how much am I worth? Is it a bundle deal?”

He pokes his tongue out, gliding it over his lower lip as he runs his index down the cleft in his chin. He’s amused. You’re not.

“You know, I don’t think there’s a price worthy of you. As much as I could use the pocket change.”

“Bullshit. You’re working for them. I know a goddamn pig when I see one.”

“Ex-pig. Fed.” He explains, “pays a lot more to work for myself.”

“Oh, yeah,” you wince and hiss as another pang coils in your arm, “and what about the other two?”

“Business partners.”

“Oh, if you asked me, I would’ve thought the other one with the shit stache was the leader. You fall in line right behind his greasy ass, don’t you?”

He rumbles, half a growl, half a chuckle. He leans forward, hands clutched together, “you’re trying to provoke me.”

“If this is a job to you, you should finish it,” you sneer, “arm hurts so bad, you’d be doing me a favour.”

“And what about your friends? You don’t care about them? You haven’t even asked.”

“I don’t gotta ask,” you suck in a breath and shake a hand in front of your arm, not daring to touch your wrapped wound, “goddamn it. God… urgh.”

“I told you to relax,” he chides.

“Hard to fucking relax with a jackass sitting in the corner like a goddamn Bond villain.”

“August,” he stands, “if you’re wondering. And you’re Candy. Fitting, you are a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

Your eyes list away and you drop your head back weakly. He’s irritating, almost as much as Sam. This is why you sold a dream to mean and not the real thing.

“I got some painkillers,” he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, “if you ask nicely, I could slip you a few. Strong stuff, too.”

You glare at him. You’re not stupid. A bullet wound isn’t going to save you. It’s just another disadvantage.

“I’m good,” you snip.

“Strong, I like it. Stubborn, don’t like that so much,” he traces his fingers along your shoulder, “but that face balances the tables, don’t it?”

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

“Hmph, aren’t you a picky bitch?” He scoffs and grips your arm, squeezing until you shriek. You kick as lightning shoots up to the joint and ripples through your flesh. “I’m tryna be a nice guy here and you’re not helping, are you?”

“Fucker–”

He rips his hand away from your arm and taps your cheek. Not a full slap but enough to sting. He frames your chin and forces your head straight.

“Enough of that. I don’t like girls with ugly mouths,” he seethes as he leans in.

“Talk about an ugly mouth,” you retort.

He shoves you back, slipping his hand down to your neck. He squeezes and pins you to the pillows. You cough, arm thrumming until you squeak. As if this couldn’t be worse. A new set of psychos to deal with.

“You got two choices, cupcake. I can feed you some pills or something else. All I’m asking is for a little gratitude. Just… be nice.”

You furrow your nose defiantly. A scream curdles in the air and permeates through the wall. Birdy. As much as you hate her, you don’t want her to be hurt. Your eyes flit to the door and you try to sit up without thinking. He keeps you down without effort.

“She’ll be fine,” he bends over you, close enough that his breath wraps around you, “as long as you behave.”

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x candy #au #sweet treats #mission impossible: fallout #series #dark!fic #drabble #drabble series

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buzz-in-your-veins · 28 days

Text

Beginning.

Angel had met Husker before.

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing.

Pain Blood Cold

Those were the last things Antony remembered.

Hot Pain Sick

That’s how he woke up.

He wasn’t were he fell asleep. Was that a fucking pentagram? What a trip. The only think he knew in that moment? Antony was never buying of Henry’s lackeys again. His PCP must’ve been fucking laced.

Looking down was strange, he felt tall as shit. Seeing a bunch of fluff was a shock. So was the soft pink spider body he apparently possessed. And the- What. The. FUCK?!

His feet. His fucking feet!

“You new kid?” A gruff voice spoke with humour

“What?”

“Are you new here?”

“New where?” Looking to the voice, a cat with… wings? Came into view. Old-looking, with rough black fur.

“Hell.”

Okay so the cat was mental. “Hell?”

“Shit you are new. What’s your name kid?”

“An-” he stopped, this cat was batshit crazy, was telling his real name smart? What to say what to say? “Angel Dust.” Apparently to blurt the first fucking thing that came to mind.

“Angel Dusk huh? I’m Husker.” A name to the face he know to avoid. “Your in hell. It might sound dumb, think about what you remember.”

Drugs Cold Blood Pain Gun Needle Smoke

He hadn’t been able to get as much PCP as he liked. So he scored some coke to go with it. And some rum. Smoking his fag, he’d prepped the needle, and inserted it. The rush hit about twenty minutes later, belly warm with straight rum. Two more doses and three hours later, Antony knew something was wrong.

Surging up and stumbling to the bathroom, he spewed red.

Blood.

He was shaking and swearing.

Fuck.

Gasping for breath, Antony recognised the feeling of arms around him, fur ticking his nose.

The cat was hugging him.

He hugged back.

“Shit kid, never seen a reaction like that.” Pulling back the cat looked at him. “You gotta get strong her-“

A staticky voice cut him off.

“HUSKER!”

Looking back the cat sighed. “Shit kid, I gotta go. Take some advice, stick to to yourself whilst you get your bearings. Don’t accept any deals. Stay alone.”

God did Antony wish he’d taken that advice.

Seeing the same cat decades later was a shock, but he covered it up with a flirty remark and a wink.

Begging the cat not to recognise him.

Feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Reupload.

~Vyrus.

#hazbin hotel husk #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #angel dust #husker hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husk definitely remembers Angel.#he also knows that’s not his name.#watching Angel try so hard to see if husk remembers was too funny to spot acting #alastor is curious #cherri finds it hilarious #vyrus.is.a.virus.

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moiraineswife · 7 months

Text

The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves - A Siuaraine Fic

Title: The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves

Warnings: Spoilers up to episode 3 of season 2. Safe for non-book readers. Trigger warnings: Mo's general mental state atm which is, as we know: Not Ideal. Mentions of rape/threatened rape in the context of forcing a bond.

Summary: Set/written after the first trio of episodes of season 2 to deal with Lan and Moiraine's dramatic bond-divorce via the power of Siuan Sanche, currently in possession of the only known braincell in Randland. AKA: Moiraine is making bad decisions, spiralling out of control, and smashing every 'self-destruct' button she comes across and she very badly needs Siuan to slam on the brakes before she yeets herself off a cliff. AKA: Moiraine needs a 'come to Jesus' talk so badly and who better to give it to her than the wizard pope/her wife?

Teaser:

'“Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Siuan’s heart clenched painfully and the love in it for this woman caused a pang of regret to pulse through her. But she steeled herself and refused to give Moiraine an easy way out of this. It would be painful, but she needed it. Light but she needed it.'

Link: AO3 or Read Below:

“Where’s Lan?”

This simple, casual question instantly changed the atmosphere in the room the way a storm changed the feeling of the wind on the sea and instinctively made Siuan shiver.

Moiraine turned away, putting her back to Siuan, making a casual show of looking out of the window, the gesture effortlessly woven into the absent circles she was walking around the room anyway. But Siuan knew her too well for her to get away with that shit, and a flicker of anxiety immediately tightened in her stomach. She was far too calm for him to be ill or grievously injured, and if he was dead Siuan doubted she would even be upright, let alone coherent, but–

“At the Tower, I expect,” Moiraine replied lightly, absently tracing the delicate petals of a rose in the vase on the window ledge.

“At the Tower?” Siuan repeated, bewildered, “Why in the name of the Light is he there?”

“I sent him there,” Moiraine said, moving away from the window to continue her lazy, seemingly mindless circle around the room. "He should have arrived by now. No doubt he's enjoying reuniting with Nynaeve. Likely as we speak,” with the suggestion of a little smirk on her lips and a faint laugh. It was as flat and empty as her eyes, which remained cold and distant and sad throughout her little performance.

Enjoying reuniting with– Siuan opened her mouth to demand an answer to just such a question, but no. That was deliberate misdirection. Moiraine’s too casual air, that forced smile. She wanted her to focus on something, anything, other than what she should be focusing on. And that was an answer to the question of: what in the name of all that was bright had happened at Verin’s quaint little cottage? Clearly it’d grown more interesting since Siuan had last visited.

“What do you mean you ‘sent’ him?” Siuan asked, very quietly, and very intently, so Moiraine could not avoid the question unless she very obviously side-stepped it, thereby revealing it as a sore point.

Instead of further attempts at deflection, Moiraine returned with that false little smile that Siuan loathed. The one that held no humour at all and that she only used when she was trying to make light of a situation that could not have been darker if it was taking place within the Dark One’s own arsehole.

“I’m not really sure what’s causing you confusion,” Moiraine said with that mildly patronising inflection in her voice. “I sent him, that is to say I arranged for him to go from one place and to arrive in another of my choosing.”

Siuan might have throttled her, but she needed her hands to massage her temples to try and stave off the headache she felt coming on. Light and she’d thought this would be a simple question. She had forgotten that, when talking to Moiraine bloody Sedai, there was no such thing as ‘simple’.

Moiriane, the Light blind her, had the gall to add blithely, “couriers do that sort of thing, you know. I was sure you’d be familiar with the concept.”

Siuan snapped her eyes up to meet Moiraine’s as she cut in sharply, with no trace of amusement or indulgence of the little farce she’d just been forced to witness, “your Warder is not a package.”

The coldness in her voice brought Moiraine up short. Her false little smile faded as her expression hardened. Then she set her jaw in that way she’d picked up from Lan years ago, without either of them realising it and stared icily down at Siuan. As if that was going to put her off.

“That man cannot just be ‘sent’ anywhere,” Siuan continued, utterly unphased by Moiraine’s glare, “anymore than you can send a hurricane to ‘a place of your choosing’,” she repeated sardonically, each word snapping out harsher and faster than the last, until she was practically spitting the last ones. “He has been more devoted to you than a sailor who hasn’t seen a tavern in a year is devoted to his first mug of ale." Her eyes bored into Moiraine’s, and she met the stare defiant and unflinching as ever, so Siuan pressed harder, "I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d died and his corpse just got right back up and refused to stop following your fool self around," she said bluntly.

Then she paused for a moment, letting the implications of that sink in properly, watching the subtle nuances of Moiraine’s expression shift. It was like reading the currents of an ocean, something anyone unfamiliar would miss entirely, but were as obvious as words on parchment to those that knew. Siuan caught the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, the flickering blink, there for half a heartbeat then gone, the slight tightening of the skin around her eyes, and felt as wary as she would spotting a cleverly hidden riptide beneath the waves.

“What happened, Moiraine?” she asked quietly, in the same stone voice, unbroken and unweathered by time or tide, every inch the one she used when she made a demand as the Amyrlin Seat. One that would be obeyed.

With a swirl of deep blue Cairhien skirts, Moiraine turned on her like a summer storm. Siuan held her ground, unmoved, even at the sight of the flare of anger that flashed in her partner's eyes. For a long, charged beat of tension they stared at each other, gazes locked, jaws clenched, heels dug in, both ready to go ‘til the last breath if needed.

Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Instead, Siuan crossed the room and knelt down on the floor at her side, staying close, while still giving her the space she needed. Reaching out and gently twining their fingers, stopping Moiraine from agitating the already red and ragged skin around her nails that she’d been worrying at in her agitation. Siuan waited, patient, thumb stroking over the back of her hand, giving Moiraine time to gather her thoughts.

Finally, without warning, like a horse suddenly bolting for no flaming reason at all, as they did, Moiraine launched abruptly into speech.

“I tried for months to make him leave me,” she began, with an obvious frustration in her voice, punctuated by her little huff, “to make him see reason.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head and looking exasperated and hopeless at once. “Nothing I did worked,” she muttered impatiently, “no matter what I said, or what I did, aloof, or indifferent, or even cruel I was to him: it never made any difference. He can be damned stubborn when he wants to be,” she grimaced.

Siuan decided it was not wise to interrupt Moiraine now she’d finally started talking, and clearly had a lot to get off her chest, to point out the frankly hysterical level of irony and lack of self-awareness in her calling any other person in any turning of the Wheel ‘damned stubborn’, but she had to bite her tongue to manage it.

“The more I tried to push him away the more insistent he seemed to become on staying,” she frowned, as though unable to even fathom a suggestion of why he’d acted that way.

Siuan bit her tongue harder still to save bursting out a deeply sarcastic suggestion of why it might be that the man who had been the other half of her bloody soul for decades, and who loved her more than all the stars loved their sky, became more reluctant to abandon her the more clearly unwell and irrational she acted.

Something shifted in Moiraine and Siuan snapped her focus sharply back to her. The atmosphere around her became suddenly very cold and still. As though a funeral shroud had slipped down behind her eyes, they darkened, and she had to swallow to clear her throat before she could continue. Siuan reached up and placed her other hand gently on Moiraine’s side, feeling a need to anchor her against whatever memory threatened to pull her away in its current.

“What?” Siuan prompted as gently as she could, but she still felt the bite to the word that snapped out before she could stop it as concern flared in the pit of her stomach.

“That night, after I found out about the breaking of Lanfear's seal," she clarified quickly, clearly struggling to wrangle her thoughts into some semblance of order, "I left to set out for Cairhien and I–" she paused, mouth tightening and Siuan frowned, sensing her change her mind about what she'd been about to say. Before she could comment, Moiraine blurted out abruptly, "we were attacked by three Fades.”

Siuan swore she felt her soul attempt to leave her body for a moment at the horror of those words, but she wrestled it back down like a troublesome line. Though she knew that, clearly, they had both survived the ordeal, she couldn’t help herself gripping Moiraine’s hand with the fear that had gripped her.

“It was my fault.” Moiraine whispered unsteadily, that familiar shadow of self-loathing turning her sea blue eyes to chips of black ice, “entirely my fault.”

The hand Siuan was not holding curled into a too-tight fist she knew would make the nails bite painfully into her palm.

Mouth trembling, Moiraine went on with difficulty, “ “Lan was fighting, protecting me, but there were too many. It was too much,” she wiped away the tears that threatened in her eyes with a careless, impatient hand. “I was injured, just lying there on the ground like a discarded doll–” she choked on the word as disgust and frustration mingled and silenced her momentarily. “Pointless,” she spat out, words returning, along with her anger at herself. “I was useless, Siuan,” she breathed, shaking her head, “I was so useless. Like a frightened child in the middle of a warzone,” she shook her head again. Her voice was shaking so badly now that Siuan had to concentrate to make out her words. “They were going to kill him and I did nothing to save him, to help him, I– I couldn’t–”

She was crying now, tears streaming from her eyes, her anguish ignoring the hand she used to try and brush them away. Siuan squeezed her hand as her heart tightened in sympathy with her. Moiraine tried to speak several times, her efforts largely incoherent, though Siuan thought she heard the words ‘I tried to channel’, but in the end Moiraine gave up. Swallowing hard she finally just shook her head to indicate that the power had not come when she had needed it.

“I failed him,” she choked out bluntly, “utterly,” she added, ignoring Siuan shaking her head and opening her mouth to chastise her for that. She was still speaking, firm and matter-of-fact now, “I knew then that I had to get him away from me,” she whispered firmly, a new resolve giving her the strength to continue, though it shattered something within Siuan to hear her phrase it like that, as if she were a blight, infectious, corrupting, “whatever it took, I could no longer stand to keep him at my side, shackled to my danger, and my weakness.”

Siuan was quiet for a long moment, letting those words fade from ringing declarations of pain, to fading echoes, until they were mere memories of the agony they once held. Abruptly, Moiraine got to her feet, and moved away. Siuan made no move to stop her. She stayed quiet, watching Moiraine tremble herself to stillness again, the agitation slowly working its way out of her body as she hugged herself, pacing, before finally coming to a halt at the window again. One hand resting on the sil, she stared out of it with a posture and smoothness to her face that said she’d done this many times before, and took several slow, deep breaths, gradually regaining control. Her shoulders hunched slightly and her eyes seemed distant and exhausted again, as though this brief flicker of true emotion had drained her of what little strength she’d managed to cling to.

Finally, when she felt Moiraine was ready to hear it, Siuan broke the silence.

“Do you remember all those years ago,” she intoned softly, “when we agreed that you would search the world for the Dragon, and I would remain at the Tower to maintain our informant networks, and try and politic the bickering Ajahs into something that vaguely resembled a useful faction against the Dark One for when the time came?”

Moiraine nodded, looking too exhausted to speak, but she turned her head over a shoulder, watching, waiting for more.

“I told you that you needed a Warder,” Siuan went on calmly.

Moiraine nodded tiredly again, but with a slightly more impatient air, as though she felt an ‘I told you so’ twenty years after the fact was a little pointless. Siuan agreed, which was why that wasn’t at all what she was headed towards.

Unruffled, Siuan reminded, “you didn’t want one,” and heard a barely perceptible little sigh in response. “You told me that you didn’t want a Warder, didn’t want someone in your head, able to feel all of your fears, and your flaws, and your insecurities,” she went on doggedly, apparently oblivious to the disparaging little frown pinching Moiraine’s face. “You thought it would be invasive and unbearable, and that it wasn’t worth all that. But I insisted.”

‘Insisted’ was actually a very polite way of describing what she’d done. If memory served the conversation had been a lot closer to beating her over the head with a broom and demanding it than anything as polite or civilised as ‘insistence’. Moiraine looked too worn out to point this out, however. Siuan pushed through the worry she felt coiling in her stomach, determined to see this point through.

“So we observed, and we gathered information, and we made notes, and conducted thorough investigations into all of the Warders currently in training at the Tower to find someone who was suitable and competent,” she said, remembering their girlish excitement, their first spy mission undertaken together as budding Blues, “and, more to the point, someone that you might actually manage to stand without driving one or both of you to murder or suicide within a week,” she added wryly, a fondness now tugging at her heartstrings at the memory.

The corners of Moiraine’s mouth even dared to lift into something like a true smile, warm and real, her eyes softening, meeting Siuan’s gaze with such love at the recollection. Without seeming to consciously make a choice to do so, she crossed the room back towards Siuan and reached down twining their fingers together.

Siuan burst the romantic bubble blossoming between with customary brutality before Moiraine became concerned that such uncharacteristic behaviour meant her wife had been replaced by a Forsaken.

“Then you thoughtlessly toppled weeks of our hard work into a fire pit on your way out on that hairbrained scheme you had in mind when you left without so much as a ‘by your leave’,” Siuan grumbled, not missing the way Moiraine rolled her eyes. Undeterred, Siuan forged resolutely ahead. “One week later you waltzed back to the Tower with a man neither of us had ever met before in our lives and announced that you’d bloody gone and taken him as your Warder!” she concluded.

Siuan made sure that her words appropriately conveyed how distinctly incredulous, not to mean miffed, she’d felt at little Lady ‘no Warder is good enough for me’ Damodred pulling a stunt like that after rejecting every one of her carefully selected candidates.

Siuan shook her head in mock-disbelief, but couldn’t stop the smile that was starting to blossom on her lips, “I thought you were insane,” she said bluntly. “Couldn’t even have told me his favourite colour if I’d held a knife to your neck,” she snorted with derision, “but you’d gone and bonded the great stoic stone lump, eyes colder than a dead shark’s and all,” she muttered, fully smirking now.

In spite of the lightness of her tone, and the fact that Moiraine was well aware Siuan loved Lan in his own right after all these years, she did not miss the slight tension that flared for a moment at the insult to him, affectionate or otherwise.

Stroking her thumb soothingly over the back of Moiraine’s hand to stop her spikes making an appearance, Siuan continued, “I was wrong,” she said softly, “and I’ve never been as happy to be so, either,” she added for good measure. Moiraine looked down, as she looked up, their eyes meeting. A faint glint of tears reflected in Moiraine’s again as Siuan murmured, “that man is the best thing that’s happened to you since, well, since I did,” she teased, and was rewarded by a feeble, wobbly little attempt at a smile from Moiraine for her efforts. “And he is, without a doubt, the only reason you didn’t starve to death two months in because you forgot to eat for three weeks straight,” she added mildly.

Moiraine’s weak little smile had the audacity to shift at once into a much stronger little scowl, as though Siuan had claimed something utterly unreasonable or false when they both knew it was true.

“The day I met him, he didn’t know you from the next haughty little Aes Sedai,” Siuan continued, remembering this more clearly than what she’d eaten for breakfast that very morning, “but I knew that he would follow you wherever you led. I knew,” she insisted firmly, “that every step you took, he would be right there at your side, taking each one as you did.” A single tear slid down Moiraine’s cheek at those words, and she gave a tiny nod of affirmation. “I was right,” Siuan agreed, nodding herself, “that’s what he’s done every day for the last twenty years, Moiraine,” she reminded her pointedly, as though she had forgotten that she had lived them, or, perhaps, as though she had simply forgotten that she’d ever lived at all.

“Exactly,” Moiraine murmured and for a brief moment, if she hadn’t known her better, Siuan might have entertained the idea that the stubborn pain in her arse might have seen reason. Unfortunately, she knew her very well, and sensed this was too easy long before Moiraine proved it to her by insisting in a hollow, self-loathing little voice that didn’t suit her, “he has wasted enough of his life on me already.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Siuan argued back, preparing herself for a long, agonising night of attempting to beat some sense into this woman.

Carefully worded logic rarely worked on her when she was like this. Typically she needed a good solid reality check with the approximate subtlety of a brick to the face. This sort of clobbering generally fell to Siuan since her Warder, for all his admirable qualities, was far too gentle with Moiraine for her own good sometimes.

“You can’t just ask someone like Lan, someone who lives and breathes for one single thing, one single goal, one single purpose,” she said, laying a steady emphasis on that final word, not missing the tightening around Moiraine’s eyes that said she knew very well what she was getting at, "to give all of that up and abandon you. He needs you, Moiraine,” she murmured quietly, “as surely as the stars need the sky.”

"He does not,” Moiraine half-growled and half- groaned back. She drew her hands from Siuan’s and took a few steps away from her, gazing unseeingly out of her window again at the night sky and the stars it held beyond. “He has never needed me,” she muttered, arms wrapping around herself, “except perhaps in needing me to stay away from him,” she added darkly.

"He would be dead without you,” Siuan countered bluntly. “If he'd never met you, and you'd never convinced him to trust you and become your Warder he would have died twenty years ago.”

She saw the flash of pain in Moiraine’s eyes at whatever memory of Lan, broken and hopeless as he’d been, and knew she felt the truth of her words. So she kept going, the moment before a catch broke the surface of the water at last was no point to slacken your grip on the line.

“Without you there would be no Lan,” she stated, clear and precise, with all the conviction of a simple truth. “Even if, by some miracle, he survived that suicide mission he set out on, he wouldn’t be the man he is today without you.” She gave that a moment, a brief handful of heartbeats, for Moiraine to come to terms with, then pressed on relentlessly. “And I know you love and trust and respect the man that he’s become at your side more than almost anyone in this world,” she all but growled, “And you know that he has more earned the right to choose to stay with you until the end."

"Enough, Siuan,” Moiraine snapped finally, rubbing the spot between her eyes that marked where the sharpest pain of the migraines that had plagued her since they were novices tended to gather when she was stressed. “I have listened to him argue with me about this every day for the last five months,” she muttered wearily, “I am not going to endure the same from you,” she said with an irritated little jerk of her head, obvious frustration in her.

Well if she was finally frustrating her that meant at least they were starting to get somewhere.

"You listened, did you?” Siuan retorted sceptically, eyebrows raised. “Did you actually listen to him and what he said to you?" she demanded knowingly, “or did you just pretend to hear him the way you do when you know someone is making a reasonable point that you don’t want to acknowledge?” she pressed relentlessly.

Moiraine turned and managed a scowl that looked positively like her old self as she said coldly, "I know what you're doing and it won't work. My mind is made up,” she bit out firmly, seeing Siuan open her mouth to reply.

Then she turned away, her eyes again on the window, and the world beyond, as though she could see through the buildings, and the trees, and the hills as if they too were glass, to the man that she had not been parted from this way in twenty years.

Lowering her head she added in an undertone, “even if you did it's too late now. It is done. It is broken. That is the end,” she concluded very softly, swallowing hard and looking down at her fingers, away from the window, cutting off the invisible thread Siuan had imagined joining her and Lan for a moment.

Siuan paused, pretending to actually deliberate and consider this idea, then she said evenly, “it could still be undone.” Moiraine took a very deep, very slow breath, lifting her chin very slightly towards the ceiling, as though silently begging the Light for patience. “It could be fixed, if you tried,” Siuan said, completely ignoring Moiraine’s reaction.

"Not everything that is broken can be fixed, Siuan," Moiraine replied, a new darkness gathering at the edges of her words, like night steadily swallowing the evening sun and all its warmth.

"No,” Siuan agreed, and she could not maintain her previous toneless, matter-of-fact even cadence now, not when she knew that Moiraine did not only mean to imply her fractured relationship with Lan, but also her fractured self. “Not perfectly or completely,” Siuan went on, made herself go on, made herself say those words, with the full force of the belief that lived behind them. “Maybe it can never be exactly as it once was. But it can always be better than it is now,” she said, and she felt her father’s voice echo in an unheard harmony alongside her own, his lessons, his wisdom, still a core of who she was and, more importantly, who she strived each day to be.

There's no such thing as perfection, so there's no excuse to ever stop trying to improve.

Her head and her heart were still full of his sayings. If they’d been rich, she’d often thought, he could have become one of the greatest philosophers of their age, quoted from Tear to the Two Rivers.

Usually Moiraine knew the feel and form of Berden’s little pearls of wisdom. Usually she would tease her and tell her that her accent became stronger, more Tairen, when she said them, as though her father truly was sharing his words with his daughter’s voice. Usually they coaxed a smile from her, and a pause to the ceaseless spinning of her mind. Usually they connected to her in the same place that she connected to Siuan, a tether to a welcome shore that promised a safe harbour.

This time nothing. No response. No acknowledgement at all. To the point that Siuan was sure she had barely even heard her speak, let alone what she’d said. She opened her mouth to say something more but Moiraine beat her to the catch,

“Not this,” she whispered, and she was staring at the window again, but this time she clearly didn’t see it, or anything at all for that matter, save whatever memory had gotten its hands about her throat and started to crush the breath from her. “Not after what I–” she began in a tremulous whisper.

Abruptly she broke off, as though remembering herself. Siuan watched as she reflexively corrected her posture, straightening her spine, standing tall and confident, the very image of a perfect Cairhien noblewoman. But though her face, as she turned back in Siuan’s direction, was perfectly calm and smooth, she would not meet her eyes.

Something went very cold and dark inside Siuan as she realised that she had made a damned rookie blunder and allowed Moiraine to distract her from the one key detail she clearly hadn’t wanted to discuss.

“How did you get him to agree to go to the Tower without you?” Siuan asked slowly, fear rising in her throat and choking the word near to silence. “You never answered me.”

She’d thought Moiraine had given Lan some false instruction asking him to fetch something for her that she could not, due to her exile. But no, Lan knew her far too well to fall for something like that. Especially after what Moiraine had done to him the night before she’d gone to the Eye of the World. And from the look in her eyes,, the hunch in her shoulders that all to clearly gave away her bone-deep guilt–

“Moiraine–” she began, unable to keep the warning from her voice.

Quiet engulfed them for a long, heavy moment, that seemed to press down with a greater weight than the world they’d carried between them all these years.

“I wrote to Alanna and asked her to meet me at the crossroads so that she might escort Lan to the Tower while I carried on alone to Cairhien” Moiraine answered at last, trying to speak stoutly and confidently, but Siuan could hear the tremors of the fracture lines she was close to breaking along, no matter how well she tried to hide them.

Narrowing her eyes, Siuan bit out, the words sharpened by the tension that was winding ever tighter in her, “it’s a good thing she has Ivhon and Maksim. I imagine that would make it much easier to bind and gag Lan and throw him over the back of his horse, which is the only bloody way I see him going to the Tower with Alanna while you ended up here.”

It could not have been clearer that Moiraine could not meet her eyes. She stared down at her clenched fingers, the skin of which was red raw from how she had agitated it during their conversation. All at once, it was as though she could not even stand to be in her own body, to be herself at all. So great was the guilt and pain and shame that seemed to physically press upon her as Siuan watched, that Siuan thought she might collapse between it. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, as they darted wildly about the room seeking another anchor point, and for that single beat of time, Siuan felt as though she glimpsed Moiraine’s true self, trapped and smothered within the cage of her bones, huddled and broken, given up on trying to break free.

“What the fuck did you do, Moiraine?” Siuan whispered, terrified, genuinely terrified, for the first time in years.

“I told him–” Moiraine began, then broke off, as if gagged by her oath, though Siuan knew there was a far simpler, far more human barrier between her and the words she struggled to speak this time. “I told him that if he refused to go willingly–”

Again she stopped, this time needing to take down a gasp of air as her whole body shook. Even then she seemed to be struggling to breathe, as though something constricted her throat, each word needing to be forced out past an ever-tightening noose, and Siuan suddenly felt dread grip the very heart of her. All at once she did not want to cross this line. She did not want to know into what darkness this woman she loved had fallen.

“I told him that I would have Alanna take his bond by force if I had to,” she whispered in a strangled little voice.

Siuan recoiled. The movement was instinctive, and she couldn’t have stopped it if she’d wanted to. Nor was she sure that she did. Light– That was– Light. Forcing a bond with someone against their will was one of the most invasive and horrific things it was possible to do with their power. It was not only a violation of the body, but of the mind, the very soul itself. For Moiraine to have even threatened that– Threatened Lan with it–

“I thought that you loved him,” Siuan said, horror and disgust rising in her words as well as the back of her throat. “I thought that he was family to you,” she breathed, revulsion forcing her, for the first time that she could remember, to step away from this woman that she had spent most of her life waiting to run to. “How could you do that to him?”

“I didn’t!” Moiraine cried, stricken, a burst of emotion rising in her, stronger than anything else she’d been able to muster as she stared at Siuan with desperate urgency. “Of course I would never have allowed it to get that far, but–”

“You threatened him with it!” Siuan interrupted, a snap in her voice, words rising to a shout in her disbelief and her anger and her horror.

That she had done this in what Siuan assumed, what she begged the very Wheel itself, was in a wild moment of utter desperation was one thing. But to stand here now in the cold aftermath and defend the choice?

Siuan felt as though she were looking into the eyes of a stranger, a nameless, unknown creature wearing her face. Because this could not be her Moiraine. The Eye of the World had taken that woman she had loved for decades, that woman she would have ripped the world apart seam by seam to protect, and spat out something else, something that looked like Moiraine, sounded like her, but could not be her in truth.

Still in disbelief, bile burning the back of her throat she went on, hoarse with shock and ever mounting rage, making her voice waver, “the fact that you actually managed to get those words out past the First Oath to spit in his face?” Her lip curled and she spared no effort at all to hide her disgust as she growled, “I think that’s far enough.”

“Why don’t you understand?” Moiraine whispered, staring at Siuan as though she barely recognised her either. As though they were two strangers seeing each other for the first time. "I was so sure that you would,” she murmured, her eyes going unfocused as she looked inward, seeing something that Siuan could neither see nor even fathom. “I was so sure that you–”

Flinching back with a sudden twist of contempt at that very suggestion, anger rose in her. “How could you ever think I would understand something like this?” she demanded, furious, “let alone accept it!”

“Because you know me!” Moiraine shouted a little wildly, her voice rising and wavering out of her control, like a loose sail stolen by a strong gust rippling and writhing as the rage of the ocean claimed it. “You know me, Siuan,” Moiraine whispered, thumping her palm flat against her chest, just over her heart in a broken display of utter desperation, “you know me better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” Siuan breathed, her face still hard and cold as her heart had become, petrified and crumbling in the face of this unprecedented darkness in the woman she adored. “Before tonight I never would have believed you capable of this. Not for all the light in this world.”

Moiraine looked utterly broken for a moment, her face falling into lines of clear agony, her eyes closing against it. For a moment Siuan was sure that reason and sanity had returned, and it had hit her just how awful what she’d been suggesting was.

“I swear to you,” she breathed softly, “I swear to you on my father’s name that I did this for the right reasons,” she all but begged, her eyes wide and shining with tears, “I didn’t do it to hurt him, Siuan–” she began.

But Siuan’s anger flared once more and she cut in, “then I’m sure it wouldn’t have,” she snapped with a furious spite twisting each word, “I’m sure he wouldn’t have felt any pain, or violation, or betrayal at all,” she spat, the words firing from her mouth like crashing hailstones, “not as long as you made sure you had him raped with good intentions–”

Moiraine flinched violently at that word as though it was a physical lash Siuan had branded her with. But Siuan couldn’t find any pity for her. She had blinded herself with willful ignorance and justified this to herself somehow, but Siuan would be burned to ashes before she let her ignore the harsh reality of what she had held over the head of a man who had trusted her enough to dedicate his life to hers for two decades.

“I would never allow Alanna, or anyone else, to hurt him like that,” Moiraine snarled, anger deepening her voice so that it almost seemed to echo up to her from the depths of the ocean itself. “If I could not channel I would put a blade through their heart before they even tried to do such a thing to him,” she went on, emotion burning so palpably from her now that for a moment Siuan felt as though she stood beside a raging sun, “And if I had no blade then I would tear them apart with my bare hands before they even thought of harming him.”

There she was. Yes. That was Moiraine, her Moiraine. Without question. There was no mistaking the blazing intensity in her eyes, the strength of will that seemed to rise from every taut muscle and sinew of her body like a heat haze as she set out her goal and swore every fibre of her soul to see it done, as no one Siuan had ever met could do.

But again, Siuan saw her in the slight tremble of her mouth, the brightness of her eyes, the frightened woman who lived beneath that raging force that at times felt as if she could halt the Wheel itself by virtue of the strength and stubbornness of her command alone. The woman you could almost forget was there, fragile and afraid as any other mortal creature made of flesh and blood and foolish, foolish love.

“But I will not apologise for trying to save a good man from an unjust fate,” Moiraine whispered, the near overwhelming fire of her earlier words suddenly ash, and though there was a crack to her voice there was no less conviction or intent because of that, as she now met and held Siuan’s gaze.

Even now, after she had been emotionally beaten and branded for her choice, she maintained that, if it could not be called good, it could also never be called wrong.

Siuan wanted to shake her. She wanted to shake her and ask how she could have endured what she had at the Eye, how she could have felt someone use their Power to strip away her own. How she could know as keenly as it was possible to know what it was to be left behind, vulnerable, and violated, and helpless– how she could feel that pain, and then threaten someone she loved with the same in the name of protecting them.

But she had spoken one truth, amidst the rest of this shadowspawned blight: Siuan did know her. She had known her, and loved her, since they’d been little more than children in the Tower together. So she had to believe, if she believed that there was any light left at all in this forsaken world, that Moiraine had meant well, and could still be made to see some bloody reason.

“Explain,” she murmured tautly, with every flaming bit of restraint that she was still just clinging to.

“There is no chance that either of us will live to see the world we hope to save,” Moiraine said with an honesty that was as casually brutal as it was familiar; and it was as familiar to both of them as cold beds and lonely hearts. “Not until the Wheel turns us out together again in another life. You know that,” she said very quietly, her eyes never leaving Siuan’s, never dropping, never even blinking as they confronted this truth, and this tragedy, of their life, and their love again. “We both made our peace with that years ago when we started all of this. We knew what the price would be if we were to take this path. And we both agreed to pay it."

Siuan nodded, but her brow creased in a slight frown as she said slowly, "Lan would give his life for this, for you, just as willingly, without even thinking about it."

"Of course he would!” Moiraine snapped, sounding almost insulted on her Warder’s behalf, as though Siuan had implied the opposite.

Slamming her palm down against her thigh, frustration rankling through her, she lifted the same hand to press against her head, as though trying to help it resist some unendurable pain. Then she looked up at Siuan, her expression softening, the lines of tension and stress smoothed away, so she appeared half a child again, innocent, and naive, still able to find the hope they had begun this all with years ago.

“But he doesn't have to,” she whispered, the words near a plea, to her, or the Wheel itself, Siuan didn’t know. But it was as honest and as raw a prayer as she had ever heard pass this woman’s lips. “He is not bound to that fate as we are. He would give his life for it, without hesitation, I know he would, I do not question that. But he does not have to die for this unless I drag him into the grave that has already been dug for me.”

Light but there was still good in her, Siuan thought with gentle despair, her heart aching with it. Perhaps too much.

“He can still have this life, a good life,” Moiraine insisted, the words apparently sounding reasonable and fair to her, when to Siuan they just sounded like the nonsensical plea of a loved one to save a fallen friend who’s heart had long since stopped beating, “a life that he deserves at last. That is all I wanted for him, and everything I have done has been for that. For him,” she implored.

Siuan believed her. Light but she believed her.

“You hurt him,” Siuan said quietly, still adamant that she would get an acknowledgement on this point, before they went any further. “No matter why you did it, or what you hoped to achieve, you still hurt him, Moiraine. More than anyone else ever could, and more than you ever should,” she added firmly, because she understood now, but that did not mean she accepted.

“I know,” Moiraine said, something darkening in her eyes. Shame, Siuan realised, shame for what she had done.

All at once she seemed to fade before her, the ghost of the woman that had once stood in her place. She moved as though in a daze and sank down onto the edge of her bed again, head in her hands. Cautiously, Siuan moved to her side once more and sat down next to her.

Her presence seemed to give Moiraine the strength she needed to speak. Raising her head, she said softly, “I knew I was hurting him every day that I spoke to him so callously. Or looked at him as though he were a stranger I did not trust. I could see that pain in him, as clearly as I see you standing here before me. And it destroyed me, Siuan. You have to know that. But– He is no longer caught up within the threads of my Pattern, so he need not be hanged by them as I will be,” she said, her eyes wide, the words caught somewhere between a statement and a question; wanting it to be true, but needing Siuan to make it so.

“Moiraine,” Siuan said, achingly tender, the way she would have wrapped her last breath around her name before she rammed the dagger of mercy between her ribs to spare her a fate worse than death.

Moiraine trembled to hear that, and all the gentle agony it promised.

“Nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves,” Siuan murmured, combing her fingers through Moiraine’s hair, smoothing it back from her face. “It’s time,” she said softly, “you can’t hide from yourself anymore, love. You know, you’ve always known, in your heart, that you can’t do this alone.”

Moiraine’s face crumpled at those words, and she buried it against Siuan’s chest as she turned her face against her shoulder. Siuan cradled her, comforting her from the pain that she herself was inflicting with each word she spoke. Yet she spoke them still, feeling the weight of irony in each one, but knowing they were needed.

“You and Lan are bound together with something far more powerful and lasting than any Warder bond,” Siuan told her, sharing a truth she had seen the moment she had met Lan, standing at Moiraine’s side, and feeling, for the first time since they’d heard the prophecy, and chosen their paths, that Moiraine might be safe on hers, with him beside her. “Your Patterns are intertwined, absolutely and inextricably, and always have been,” she murmured, achingly gentle. “Your fate is his; and his yours.”

Moiraine’s whole body shook with the weight of the breaths that heaved through her chest as she struggled to bear yet another burden Siuan laid upon her back.

“I told you that there would be no Lan without you,” Siuan said, still cradling Moiraine in close to her body, “but equally there is no you without Lan,” she murmured.

As she spoke she rubbed Moiraine’s back in broad, soothing circles, trying to convey without words that it was nearly over. A few more words, and Moiraine would have survived the harshest torture that any person could know. That of having the deepest fears that gave your soul its shadow to contrast its light laid bare before you with simple, merciless truth.

“You need him, Moiraine,” she said, then again, one last time, to be sure, “you need him.”

Moiraine’s shoulders slumped, and she laid her head completely in Siuan’s lap, then shocked her by actually saying, very quietly, “I know.”

A pause while she trembled, and wiped furiously at her eyes and mouth with the back of her hand, obviously trying to regain a grip on herself. For a moment, it seemed that she might succeed. Then she wavered, taking several breaths that palpably shuddered through her whole body as she tried to contain the heavy sobs that Siuan could almost feel weighing her down before she managed to get out, “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

The shock of that hit Siuan like a brick to the face. She had expected her to talk about the Pattern, about the future, about the impossibility of the task that had been demanded of them, of the cruelty of the world, and the indifference of the Wheel. She realised now that this had been the last bit of strain needed to snap the entire line, and that everything Moiraine had been holding in since Lan had left, likely since she’d started pushing him away at all, had finally become too much for even her to bear.

“Oh Moiraine–” Siuan breathed sadly.

“I look to my left to catch his eye and seek out his approval before I remember that he’s not there,” she said, the words flowing from her as thick and fast and uncontrollable as her tears. “I hear his voice each morning telling me that I need to eat something before I start my day,” she said, as Siuan stroked her hair and let her weep, “I find it strange when my plate doesn’t have a little more potato or an extra bit of bacon on it than it did a moment before, because he’s slipped me some of his without my noticing.” Siuan smiled at that, at how simple, and ridiculous, and utterly Lan such a gesture was, how it was always the smallest, stupidest things that said ‘I love you’ without ever needing to use the words. “I pour out two cups of tea without even thinking about it. When it all feels too much, and the weight of the world is crushing me, and I do not know what is right or if I can even trust myself to tie my own shoes, I wait for his reassurance, for his hand on my shoulder, or his steadfastness through the bond but– but I–”

Siuan sensed that there was more, so much more, a lifetime’s worth of tiny moments and instinctive acts that had become as thoughtless as breathing, not noticed until they were gone, and then their absence was an agony worse than dying. But there were no more words left to her to speak them. The mask she’d clutched to her face and hidden behind all these months was little more than ash snatched at by the wind. She was bare, and barren, with no more shields to crouch behind, and no more barriers to break her fall. All she could do now was feel, feel every ounce of grief and pain she’d been pushing aside and struggling to ignore for months.

Moiraine broke, utterly and completely, and Siuan held her as she did. She rocked her gently in her arms as she sobbed and screamed until her throat was raw. She stroked her hair as she gasped and heaved and struggled for each breath she sucked in past her grief. She rubbed her back as she convulsed and trembled until at last her exhausted body could give no more, and it lay still and silent in Siuan’s arms.

Afterwards, Siuan remained quiet. Like the first breath the world took after the passing of a great storm, this was not for her to do, this was not her silence to break, only to keep watch over, until the time came. She knew that it would. Some things were inevitable that way, and she had learned patience as a babe strapped to her father’s back on his little fishing boat, waiting for the tides to carry them home. She had kept that patience for twenty long years, spending each day waiting for Moiraine’s return. She had patience now for this.

Wiping her eyes with that frustrated little gesture, sniffing repeatedly, Moiraine pushed herself tiredly into a sitting position, still leaning against Siuan’s shoulder to help keep her upright.

“I must sound so foolish,” she muttered, voice dulled by fatigue and exertion. Catching Siuan’s expression out of the corner of her eye, she seemed to realise that had not been entirely clear, for she clarified, “crying over cups of tea and potatoes when the Forsaken are stirring and the Dark One’s shadow spreads further each day across the entire world which may be lost if we cannot save it,” she said, with a truly admirable amount of dignity maintained between her hiccups.

Siuan smiled fondly, smoothing out Moiraine’s hair, “a bit,” she admitted, though she made it clear from her tone that it was meant to tease. Kissing the top of Moiraine’s head she sighed out a long resigned breath and said, “I think you need your cups of tea and potatoes and… whatever else,” she said, struggling to remember the precise details of Moiraine’s long, only mostly coherent list. Fortunately this lapse made Moiraine snort with suppressed laughter, knowing her far too well to feel aggrieved, so Siuan continued, “and that’s okay,” she murmured, giving Moiraine a bracing little squeeze. “It’s the same reason I still practise my nets and lures by hand every day,” she said, seeing the soft, fond smile and distant bob of Moiraine’s head in acknowledgement of this, “we need something to keep us sane while everything else goes mad around us.”

Moiraine considered that and then she said very quietly, “So many times, Lan has been the only thing protecting me from death, ever snapping at my heels. But he has also been my net,” she said with a watery smile, catching Siuan’s eyes, “keeping me from the insanity always clawing at the edges of my mind.”

Siuan nodded as Moiraine’s mouth trembled with the burden of the realisation Siuan had just watched settle heavy upon her soul. She stroked her cheek, anchoring her, but did not interrupt or say the words for her. She needed this, needed to purge herself of this truth as surely as if it were trolloc poison.

“I was selfish,” Moiraine managed to whisper at last. Siuan closed her eyes, a tension she had carried since she had asked Moiraine where Lan was at last allowed to leave her. “I convinced myself that the pain I caused him was worth it, if it kept him safe but… nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves, does it?” she murmured, repeating the wisdom Siuan had given her earlier. She closed her eyes, her face a mask of pain, and Siuan felt such pride, and such love, swell within her as she found the strength to confront the person she had been, and hold her accountable for what she had done. “I sought to break him, to break the love, and the loyalty I did not feel I deserved because I knew that it would break me to lose him as well.” Silent tears escaped her, sliding down her cheeks as she whispered, “I was so selfish.”

“I know,” Siuan said, the harsh simplicity of that truth balanced by the soothing tone in which it was spoken.

“He must hate me,” she said, unable to entirely smother the small sob that choked from her as she spoke those words.

“Maybe he should, for what you did to him,” Siuan said, as softly and gently as she had spoken her last truth.

She saw the reflexive flash of shock and betrayal in Moiraine’s eyes, before she blinked it away, along with the tears that had shone there, and nodded heavily.

"But I’d still stake my life on the bet that he doesn’t,” Siuan continued very quietly. Whether that made him a fool or a hero, she didn’t know, and perhaps it wasn’t her place to decide either way. “You know that’s not him. He will forgive you. Even for this. As long as you give him a reason to."

Moiraine looked up at her for a long moment then, finally, blessedly, she nodded. She looked utterly exhausted as she did so, but she did so, and that was enough for now. Siuan kissed her head. There was still more to say, on this, as well as the other events of the last six months, but Moiraine clearly wasn’t up to hearing so much as the day’s catch right now, let alone anything like that. So Siuan scooped her up and drew her down onto the bed beside her, stroking her hair and wiping away her latest tears.

“Rest now,” she told her softly. Moiraine started to open her mouth to protest, but Siuan just pressed a finger to her lips, “I will stay and shield your dreams,” she said quietly. It was a risk, she knew, not to return to the Palace, but Leane would make her excuses if that became necessary. Siuan judged that the hour-long grilling she would get from her Keeper about where she’d been and why was worth it to allow Moiraine to get a chance to actually recover some of her strength. “You need to sleep,” she insisted, in a tone that warned there would be no arguing of that point.

“You know so well what I need,” Moiraine growled huffily, the words barely distinguishable through the blanket Siuan was already pulling around her.

“I do,” Siuan agreed, as though Moiraine had spoken the words as a mere statement of fact, and not an obviously petulant complaint.

More grumpy sounds issued at this, though none were coherent enough to be made sense of, and were thus very easy to ignore, as Siuan bundled Moiraine up in the densest, heaviest blankets she could find, then wrapped her arms around her and held her close. She was asleep almost before Siuan had finished weaving the shield around her mind to protect her from Lanfear’s influence, at last safe enough to allow the sleep she so desperately needed to claim her.

There was still a ways to go, she knew, the shore was only just visible as a faint line upon the distant horizon, and their little boat still had a vast ocean to cross to reach it. But if things had not yet been fixed, they had been improved. Tomorrow they would improve again, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Until the sand of the shore turned to earth, then to stone, and they reached a place where the turbulent sea was little more than myth, and the oar they carried was mistaken for a staff.

****

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 months

Text

Lost & Found - Chapter Thirteen.

One Friday update for you all, besties! Hope you have a lovely weekend :D

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Words - 3,986

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

The grasp upon the top of her arm was so tight, she could feel pain down to the bone, his thick fingers vice-like, manhandling her, dragging her along as she stumbled and slipped upon the perfectly polished floor.

That glossy marble was hard on her knees as she was thrown into a heap, turning to face him, grunting in pain when he kicked her in the thigh.

“What’s what right there?”

“Wh-what?”

His hand went to her hair, pushing her head down. “That there, you blind puttana!”

A tiny smudge upon the floor, Emma pulling the cloth from her pocket and immediately buffing it away. “I-I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry, R-Rocco.”

“You damned oughta be.” Each stern word was bitten off from his boxy, white teeth. “Now get out there and mow the lawn, you lazy cunt. Move it!”

His foot hitting her in the ass was the breaker of her dream, Emma sitting up with a gasp in bed. Gathering herself and her bearings, she caught her breath, at least glad she hadn’t woken in a zoned-out state and ended up in the closet or the corner. Unfortunately, she had disturbed the man who always found here there.

“Y’okay, Em?” he muffled sleepily from within the pillows, his hand moving to stroke her back. Unfortunately, the prazosin she’d been prescribed to treat her nightmares hadn’t kicked in yet, the doctor explaining it would take a week or two, perhaps longer. At least she was on the right track with it, though.

Thankfully the drugs he’d given her to decrease anxiety were starting to work in her waking life, which was a definite ease of emotional burden. Sudden loud noises no longer spooked her, and she was much less nervous around new people. Shouting still made her jumpy, though. Baby steps.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay now.” Sighing, she reached for the lamp, turning it on and locating her water bottle. Chugging back a few mouthfuls, she saw Guero’s hand making a grabby motion coming into her line of vision. “There you go, my little brontosaurus.”

He snorted softly, taking a few gulps. “For someone who hisses like a demon in her sleep, you need to knock that shit off. I never know whether I should pinch your nose or call a fucking priest.”

“Oh, so he’s comedy brontosaurus!” He tickled her for that, handing the water bottle back as she giggled. Humour. It was about the only way she knew how to deal with the nightmares from her ordeal, two months after finally escaping it. At least he indulged her in it, being a comic person by nature. Okay, so there was a fair amount of smart mouthed sass that also went hand in hand with it, but still, nobody made her laugh like Guero.

There were also other ways she dealt with the lingering effect of her nightmares; ones that also involved something else he was very good at.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, after she’d turned over and huffed for the fourth time.

“Nope.”

Moving the covers off them, he shifted himself between her legs. “I gotta real good remedy for that.”

He truly did, pushing her thighs apart to bury his mouth between them. She gasped, his tongue pushing through her folds, taking that first explorative lick at her. Using his fingers, he parted the petals of her cunt, licking her again, a slow, flat drag of his tongue causing her back to arch off the bed, bending elegantly like a bow. He smirked to himself, the thrill of having caused such a response with a mere two licks.

His eyes took in her glinting hole, sparkling pink and dewy with need already, pushing his tongue within her, a cry leaving her mouth, slowly dragging a hard lick up to her clit and proceeding to circle, softly at first, making her tingle. He coaxed further exclamations from her, those responses causing his cock to harden, fast little flicks over her bud making it swell.

“Mmm, you like that, huh?”

“Oh, I’ll give you about a month to stop!” Her words made him chuckle deeply, gently kissing her, wrapping her clit in the soft, pillowy heat of his full lips and sucking, her nails digging into the thickness of his shoulders as she trembled. Her head spun, running her nails over his scalp as she quivered, hips softly undulating against his face, each lick at her clit like wet heat driving cool fire as he built her up steadily.

The sensations of bliss pooling against his mouth turned his groans to gravel, eating her with more fervour, devouring every last bit of her pink, sending pleasure sparking up her spine. Her release brimmed forth, her little cries of ecstasy driving him on, his tongue lashing hard against her. It sent her reeling as she teetered and then exploded, the release washing over her, her waves crashing against his shore and leaving her breathless.

She was still warmed to her veins with the haze of bliss when he moved behind her, hooking her leg under his arm and gliding into the satin of her pussy, Emma mewling softly at the delicious stretch of him parting her walls. Another thing she’d managed to procure from the discreet doctor were contraceptive pills, of which he’d furnished her with enough of to last until their next appointment.

The hot, naked drag of him within her, no longer barriered by latex felt incredible, his mouth buried at her neck, kissing a constellation onto her flushed skin as he groaned faintly. Glimmers shot through her from the insanely deep punch of his cock, the pace slow and rolling, his hips quivering against her as she fluttered around him.

For her, it was the kind of intensity that made her heart swell, bolts burning brightly in her chest. His hand reached beneath her neck, turning her head to lean his face near, nuzzling her softly before he kissed her with smouldering desire. Sex with Rocco had never been like that, but then again, since it was against her will she understood well that what she had with Guero was a million miles from it.

What they shared was beyond anything she could have ever imagined back then.

“Fucking love you so much, baby,” he groaned, kissing her again with stormy affection. It was the moment she’d longed for, for years and years, to have a man fall in love with her, hear him tell her that with sincerity unmatched. God, her heart.

“I - oh fuck, fuck, fuck - I love you too, ahhh!” she cried, her voice breaking as the deep spear of his cock sent pleasure bursting through her.

“And if that isn’t the most beautiful way for me to hear you say it, right between those pretty little moans.” It gathered momentum, swirling like a tempest, sharp little shocks skittering over them, their bodies heated and sweat slicked. A frisson of warmth pooled low in her, the sudden overflow having her crying out, her mouth breaking from his as she wailed. He followed her into the abyss of undoing, his teeth sharp at her neck, hot breaths blasting against her skin as the tight clutch of his hands upon her finally slackened.

He lay inside her for a time, fingers trailing her breasts, kissing her shoulder as they enjoyed the feeling of their nerves still tingling in afterglow. Finally, he slid from her with a slippery pop, pulling the covers back over them, his arm tightening around her waist. She slept very, very soundly that night, waking from a long sleep at 9am, she and Guero with nowhere to go and nothing to do for the morning.

“Why did you choose the moment you did to tell me you loved me?” she asked out of nowhere, stroking his chest idly.

It was a question he hadn’t been expecting, Guero smirking a little with the randomness. “Um, might’ve been prompted by the fact I was balls deep in you at the time.” He puffed his cheeks out, eyes rounding as he looked down at her, the expression cracking her up.

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“And so damned romantic, huh?” The playful sarcasm dripped from him, lacing his fingers through hers and kissing her hand, turning to her. “I did mean it, though. I did. I do. You’re incredible. You’re beautiful and gentle, and so much stronger than you know, too. Haven’t told a woman that in a long time either, that I love her.”

“Who was the last before me?” she asked, skimming his collarbone with her thumb.

He winced slightly, but offered an answer all the same. “A girl called Astrid Henry. We were together for five years before I found out she’d been fucking my cousin for the last fourteen months of it.”

Her mouth dropped open immediately. “Who in their right mind would cheat on a guy as great as you?” It baffled her completely. To her eyes, he was the complete package.

“Someone who was being neglected, but still liked the lifestyle offered to her from dating an outlaw. I was coming up in the club more back in Tuscon, reconnecting with my dad, too. I didn’t put her first a lot of the time. Then when I found out, me and my sparky fucking temper acted before the rational side kicked in. I should have just called it quits with her, but nah. I went and fucked her best friend, because I’m vengeful.” He scrunched his nose up, shaking his head. “Wasn’t my proudest moment.”

She shrugged, squeezing his hand. “At least you acknowledge it. I think the person I’m slowly starting to become now I’m out from under the weight of Rocco recognises that, the need to hurt if I've been hurt. I can feel there’s something growing within me that wants to get back at him, and it’s gnawing at me that I can’t. Anyway, I’m not making this all about me. What did Astrid do when she found out about you and her friend?”

“Threw a lamp at me,” he began, biting the corner of his lip, “because when she found out, I was piledriving the friend in question at the time. Set it up so she’d catch me doing it, wanted to hurt her as badly as she had me. It all fucking went crazy after that, cops showed up because of all the yelling, I spent a night in the cells because of it, until my dad came down and smoothed things over with the local PD. I then got one of the famed Ibarra rants for the entire journey home about not thinking with my dick. I guess he was right.”

“From what you’ve told me, he seems like the type who’d never miss an opportunity to call you out,” she laughed, watching him nod vigorously.

“Uh huh, the old man was all about that. Teachable moments, delivered at a billion decibels.” He smiled, thinking of his dad, the sadness that they were only just getting back on track again before he’d died stinging at his insides. Those few years they’d had at the end of his life weren’t enough. He brightened then, remembering something. “There was another thing he told me that’s always stuck, something useful.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

Turning her onto her back, he pinned her there, hands curling around her arms as he leaned to place kisses against her throat. “That if a woman can still get up and walk after you’re done with her, you didn’t do your job properly.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s your aim here, hmm?”

His mouth continued to glide, the crush of his teeth around her nipple sending a jolt through her. “Total paralysis.”

Once he was finished railing her into the bed, she could still walk, but it was extremely bow legged and wobbly. After showering and having something to eat, they headed down to the clubhouse on foot, Axl trotting along between them happily. He usually didn’t head down of a Sunday, but Emma had reason to that day, booked in with Hank to begin a project they’d discussed a couple of weeks back. She tired of her scars, and he was the very man who could help her with that.

A couple of other guys were hanging around, Gilly, Nestor and Bottles, EZ absconded to his trailer with some girl or another, from the sounds coming from it as they’d walked past. Hank was all set up in the corner, greeting her with a big smile.

“You ready, then?”

She nodded, cringing a little bit. “As I’ll ever be.” Removing her top, Hank cleaned down the area first before taking one of the two transfers he’d drawn out, making sure it hit her skin just right before placing it down. “Like we discussed, this is just to give me a guide. Anything else I can free hand, make sure every last scar is covered up.”

He’d suggested the flowers he was placing upon her, a full colour piece of tree peonies and oriental poppies, flowers with large blooms to cover the most, the vivid reds, purples and oranges she wanted them in acting further to camouflage what lay beneath.

Arranging herself on the table, she prepared for pain, Hank beginning with the outlines first, of which he’d told her to anticipate would be the worst. The needles hit her skin, yet her face didn’t change. He exchanged a glance with Guero, the men raising their eyebrows a fraction in surprise. She’d probably start to make some kind of noise to voice discomfort as soon as he hit bone, he wagered, but once there, her reaction was zero. She sat solid.

“I hope you know you’re making your guy here look like a pussy right now by comparison,” he chuckled, Guero raising his middle finger. “When I put that elephant on his side, he bitched and complained the entire time.”

“That shit hurts!” he exclaimed, Emma curling her lip a little.

“Eh. It isn’t too bad. Kinda soothing.”

“Soothing?” A head shot up across the clubhouse, Gilly ambling his bulk over. “Nah, you’re cheating and using numbing cream, girl. Ain’t no way anybody would claim ribcage tattoos are fucking soothing otherwise, nah. Uh-uh. It’s hell.”

She shrugged lightly. “Hell is being held down by your throat and having red hot knives held against your flesh. Gives you a new appreciation for how cattle must feel, I can tell you.”

At hearing that snippet, Hank stopped tattooing immediately. He’d been much too considerate of her privacy to ask exactly how she’d gotten her scars when she’d shyly revealed them to him, but hearing that sent a chill through his blood. Gilly’s too.

“Wait, Lombardi did this to you?” the bald man asked, his forehead crinkling from the depth of his frown.

“He did,” she hummed quietly, reaching to stroke Guero’s arm, noticing the little giveaways of his temper flaring. Tight jaw, flared nostrils. It still made him seethe.

Gilly shook his head. “Motherfucker, doing that to a girl. What the fuck? Damn, no wonder you’re sitting it rocksteady. I’ve burned myself on hot metal before lemme tell you, I’ll take tattoo pain every time!”

“Yeah, me too,” Hank grumbled, nodding as he looked at her. “You’re damned tough, Emma.”

Having a couple of big, scary outlaws tell her that was perhaps the highest praise, she thought. “Did what I had to do to survive. This is why I said it was soothing. Cathartic, even, covering up what he did with something beautiful.”

Although they had no comprehension over everything she must have gone through, they could understand that desire, at least. She sat relatively unflinching for the first two hours, all the outlines and a little of the colour done, having a few sips of water before she lay back for the remaining two, soldiering on, wanting the first half finished.

“Can we do the outlines for my lower back too while we’re at it, or are you getting hand cramp?” Emma asked, Hank flexing his hand after putting the tattoo machine down.

“I could, but you’ve sat for long enough today. Go get something to eat and rest.” Pausing, he then picked up the large mirror at his side lifting it onto his lap. “Ready to see it?”

She nodded, Hank turning it around as she shuffled side on and lifted her arm. Immediately, she let out a little sob. They were gone. Every single one of them, and in their place something truly, truly beautiful. “Hank! Oh my god, I love it! Thank you.”

He returned the hug she slid down to give him, feeling his cheeks flush a little when she kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome. Let’s get it covered for you.” One large dressing applied and she was done, Guero moving to hug him.

“It’s dope as fuck, man. Thanks for doing that for her.” he told him earnestly with a nod, Hank smiling. Looking over at Emma, it was worth the hand cramp he’d lied about having, knowing how important it was to her that she cover up at least one third of the scars that obviously brought her emotional stress. She seemed to stand a little taller, her smile a little wider as she stood talking to Bottles.

“I have to walk around like this now, like I’m doing the half chicken dance!” she exclaimed, holding her arm up, Bottles shaking with laughter. What a difference to the terrified young woman who’d first entered the clubhouse in Guero’s arms two months prior.

They decided to remain at the clubhouse for the rest of the evening, Bishop and Lee arriving, ordering in pizza, beer and tequila flowing. They flowed so much, in fact, that Emma got to witness a first; a smashed Guero.

“You gonna be okay getting him and the dog home?” Nestor asked, who had Axl lying across his lap, enjoying the belly rubs he was receiving.

Emma turned to view Guero, him and Gilly near cry laughing at something Bottles was telling them, her guy collapsed on the bar. “Not too sure,” she replied, before calling out to him. “Honey! Can you walk?”

“Pfft, course I can, hic, walk!” he yelled through a loud hiccup, sliding off the stool onto his feet, wobbling. “M’drunk, not, not... th’thing where y’can’t walk.”

She shook her head, resting a hand to her brow. “No, but he’s definitely the thing where he can’t talk.”

Nestor snort laughed as he reached to squeeze her arm. “I’ll help you get him back.” Guero protested this, yelling that he was ‘habsoltey, hic, fine!’, Nestor shaking his head and steering him away from walking into the doorframe. It continued along the twenty-five-minute walk back to the house, Guero entertaining them if nothing else.

“Baby, be ready. Cuz’ imma, hic, smash the hell outta you when wh’home,” he proclaimed, turning to Emma with a huge, dopey grin, Nestor moving quickly to prevent him from walking into a streetlamp.

“Bro, the only thing you’re gonna smash is yourself. Eyes forward man,” he advised.

“You can’t tell me whadda do!” His roared words filled the mostly desolate street, Emma in soft fits as she walked, Axl trotting along obediently at her side. “Gonna go bone the living fhuk outta my woman!”

He continued to behave like a complete liability for the rest of the journey home, stumbling up the drive, their return heard by the local all-seeing eye next door.

“Fuckboy hammered outta his mind, yo!” Tyrone yelled, his high-pitched laugh sounding as he emerged from behind the curtains. Immediately, Guero’s face lit up.

“Tyrone! Whassup, bro?” he beamed, steaming across the lawn at full, drunken stampede.

“Oh Jesus. Apply brakes man, slow down... woah!” he cried, scream laughing as Guero heaved himself up and then promptly vanished through the window rapidly, landing in Tyrone’s living room with a loud thud. Emma and Nestor couldn’t breathe for their hysterics, walking over, peering in to see him lying on his back laughing, Tyrone hissing with tears running down his face. “Fuckboy be all up in here with his bad gymnastics. You scored a solid two point zero for the window vault, my man! You okay, bro? Fuck!”

"M'great! Window vault was at least a, hic, seven, holding out on me, Tyrone!"

The big man continued to laugh, wheezing hard as he turned to Nestor and Emma. "I know I give the mofo' shit, but I love this guy so fuckin' much! He the damned best when he hammered!"

Guero finally peeled himself off the floor, grabbing a handful of chips from the bag and shrugging. “Love you, too, big poppa! Gonna go score higher in the sexy ghymnhast-hics!”

Tyrone continued to hiss laugh. “You ain’t doin’ shit other than passin’ out!”

“WATCH ME!” he roared, spraying a mouthful of chips everywhere before vanishing from the room. Emerging through the front door and slamming it behind him, he stumbled over to Nestor, holding his face in his hands and kissing his forehead. “Love you, Sacagawea. Later!”

His words were followed by another hiccup, Emma thanking Nestor for his assistance and saying goodnight to him and Tyrone, surprised to see Guero actually manage to get his key in the front door and slide inside, almost toppling over. Oh, god. After unclipping Axl from his leash, the dog moving to curl up on the armchair, she ventured through to the kitchen, finding Guero raiding the cupboards.

“Love, what are you doing?” she groaned softly, a packet of soup mix hitting the floor with a thud.

“Need instant choffee.”

Confusion creased her face. “But you don’t like instant coffee.”

“Need it! No time to, hic, do choffee macheeeen! Makin’ my dad’s sober drink. Called in the, hic, resurrector.” He paused, burping, giggling to himself and muttering something undecipherable. “Well, m’not gonna be properly sober, but it wakes a dude up.” He continued his searching, finally finding it, hiccupping again. He poured a frightening amount into a mug, putting water into another and taking it to the microwave, putting it on and then staggering to the fridge.

“An egg, hot sauce and Red Bull?” Emma inquired, raising her eyebrow.

Guero turned, grinning. “Trust the process. Ten minutes and m’gonna be alive aghain.”

She expected the process was going to make him throw up, if she was honest. Watching him concoct the disgusting sounding remedy, she felt ill just imagining the flavour and texture of it. Guero paused, taking a deep breath before knocking it back. Immediately, he heaved.

“Bathroom, now!” she ordered, pointing in the direction. “Really, honey. I can’t deal with cleaning up puke.”

He held his finger up, heaving again, swallowing hard. “Ten minutes.”

“Are you going to be alright if I go shower? I’m too hot.”

He beamed. “Damn right, y’are. Leave it on cold f’me.”

She left the bathroom door open, anticipating a thud she’d have to go and collect him up off the floor from, showering carefully around her fresh tattoo. He entered the room about five minutes after she’d left him in the kitchen, singing to himself as he brushed his teeth. Remaining unconvinced of the process she was meant to trust, she exited the shower, switching it to cold, Guero climbing in.

“MOTHER FUCK, that’s freezing!” Well, he sounded less slurred. Still, though, the expectation was for him to hit the bed and pass out. What she didn’t expect was a steadier looking Guero to enter the room, whisk the covers off her and hum with approval.

“Spread your legs, baby. Lemme see that pretty little pussy.” Doing as instructed, she pulled her legs splayed, her knees touching her chest, Guero’s grin widening. “Mmm, fuck yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Her day might have begun with a nightmare, but how it ended was anything but.

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #guero smut #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc season 5

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saints-who-never-existed · 5 months

Note

What are your thoughts on the relationship between Terror's lieutenants? Both in canon (book and show) and whatever ideas you yourself might have.

I'm wanna know what you think their reactions to Jopson's promotion or to John's death were. But I'm especially interested in what was going on before the walk out, just how they interacted in your mind onboard the ship.

I got curious because of the music fragment from the book where Little and Hodgson argue, and because of Kajganich's comments about Hodgson probably being Little's closest friend on board.

Thanks and cheers!

So this got real long real fast! Not even sure I fully answered your question, friendo. I just thought too long about The Lads, got emotional, and produced this deeply-passionate word vomit. Enjoy!

On the one hand, it’s frustrating that we see so little of the relationship between the three of them, either on-screen or in the book. But on the other, it’s fantastic in that it leaves so much room for interpretation!

I think no one will be surprised that I have absolutely made the most of those few scant snippets and references, and interpreted a deep, abiding, loving friendship from them… :')

I see their relationship in the book as the more straightforward and positive of the two.

The Hodgson and Little Musical Disagreement is an excellent example and I’m glad you mentioned it. Not only does it show a softer side to Little, who in the book is a much simpler, stoic kinda guy, it also gives us the pleasure of guessing at his reasoning. Does he just like to see Hodgson happy and is willing to compromise to make that happen, or does he know that his garrulous friend just won’t shut the fuck up until he gets his way? Who knows? Take your pick! Either way, it shows they’re buddies who care enough about one another’s happiness not to sweat small stuff like that. (My own personal headcanon is that Little secretly quite likes Hodgson's shite music. He’s definitely got a sense of humour in the book, even if quite a sarcastic one, so it's not hard for me to imagine book-Little as the Roy Kent of the Expedition with a lighter side he's at pains to keep hidden.) We also have, for example, Irving doing Hodgson a solid and pulling a double-watch when the latter is ill which again shows a willingness to be there and make sacrifices for one another. And one of my favourite little snippets comes early on, during Tuunbaq's attack on Strong and Private Heather. By the time Crozier even makes it out of his cabin to investigate, the three lieutenants are already there, arms full of weapons and 100% ready to rock so not only are they friends in my mind but they’re a tight and efficient unit on a practical level too, a well-oiled machine.

There’s definite friendship and a strong working dynamic in the show too, though I do think you have to search even harder for it in many instances. And I definitely see a more complex, bittersweet edge to their relationship in general.

They still care about and make sacrifices for each other – think of wee Irving, for example, taking one for the team and breaking the bad news to Crozier about all the men abandoning him for the flagship. (He says that Little asked him to but I choose to believe he's a good, caring, Christian boy at heart and did it himself to relieve his friend after a tough night). There’s definite trust there too. There's a teeny wee fleeting moment I like where the booze-hunting party returns to Terror with Silna and the late Mr Hornby. Little briefs Hodgson, asks him to deal with the former, and specifically expresses trust in him ("She'll be fine with Lieutenant Hodgson") which is well warranted - Hodgson sees that the job is done right away and with minimal fuss. Another little example that springs to mind from that same episode is a deleted line from the script. After the hatch is smashed, Crozier asks who's on deck and Little answers immediately, painfully aware that Hodgson is up there, painfully aware of all that’s at stake.

I think the biggest factor in the stymieing of their in-show friendship is The Horrors in general, but also Crozier specifically. Not to turn this into one of my patented anti-Crozier rants but I think he affects the men under him in two ways.

Firstly, at his worst, he’s an extra enemy for them to deal with, an extra problem. In many ways I think it brings them closer – Us vs. The World, Us vs. Our Boss’s Bullshit – but it’s almost for the wrong reasons, if that makes sense? If nothing else, it doesn’t leave much room for tenderness or levity or relaxation or any of the other things that make up friendship. Secondly, I think he infects them with his secretive, insular nature. That’s the most heart-breaking thing of all to me – all three of them are suffering so much in their own ways but we see no real indication that they're getting sufficient chance to confide in one another about it. They just keep it all bottled up inside with no outlet for it.

That's another difference, I think, between book and show, and it's what I'll end this absolute diatribe on in specific relation to Irving's death - that fatal lack of catharsis.

I've just reread the chapter that includes Irving's funeral and genuinely had tear in my eyes at the end. Hodgson is distraught, having witnessed the grisly aftermath of Irving's murder and while we don't directly see a reaction from Little, the chapter ends with he, Hodgson, and a variety of other officers dismissing the men so they can take on the responsibility of burying Irving themselves. They couldn't protect him in life but they find value and seek a practical outlet for their grief by doing what they can to honour their friend in death.

Whereas in the show, they get no such luxury. They don't get a real chance to stop or process anything. They don't really get a chance to do anything productive with their grief. They do try - I think both attacking the Netsilik and arming the men in camp stem from a deep and frustrated need to feel like they're doing something, anything. But it's just not enough - that kind of reciprocal violence isn't a worthy substitute in the first place for the simple act of love that is burying one's friend.

When it comes to the show, I still think the love was there. It didn't change anything. There was nowhere for it to go. There were too many forces against it, bottling it all up. But when it comes to the show and when it comes to those three, the love was absolutely there.

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #Ask #Ask game #Friendos #Long Post #Very Long Post #You simply will not believe how long and convoluted this post is #Yet here we are #No coherence only vibes #Terror Lieutenants #George Hodgson #John Irving #Edward Little #I should stress that I haven't gotten far enough in my reread to remember what happens when Hodgson joins the mutiny #I may need to revise my thoughts after that #But still

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jazzisackerman · 1 year

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲

p. geto suguru x f!reader. hurt/comfort. cw. injury, blood mentions. emetophobia. swearing. wc. 1.0k.

"SHIT, SUGURU."

He laughed, wincing as he jostled a budding bruise on his upper arm. "You could at least say hello."

"Hi," Y/N teased, bending to his eye-level where he sat on one of the infirmary beds, brushing some of his hair out of his face to kiss his cheek. "Where’s Shoko?"

"Out with Satoru, I think. They got sent to some village in the middle of nowhere to deal with a semi-grade 1. It got a bunch of civilians, so they had to send her."

She hummed to acknowledge the information, busying herself with trying to dig out some medical supplies, since it appeared her boyfriend was still in too much pain to patch himself up. "Where were you this time?"

"Three blocks away. I think the higher-ups set me up, because that curse had to have been close to special grade."

She winced sympathetically, returning to his side to dab with an antiseptic swab at some of his cuts. "Are they making you … you know."

He pulled a black orb out of his pocket in response, rolling it about in his palm once before putting it away disgustedly. "I’ll deal with it later. You were in Saitama, right? Are you okay?"

"Me? Ah, I’m fine." Y/N shook her head, measuring out part of a roll of gauze. "I had to exorcise fifteen or so lower grade spirits, nothing much. I’m more worried about you."

Suguru closed his eyes, tilting his face away from her. "Sorry."

She frowned. "For what?"

"Making you patch me up. I probably should’ve just ingested the curse and gotten on with it."

"Suguru?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

He huffed out another soft chuckle at that. "Sorry."

It didn’t take Y/N long to clean out his wounds (most seemed to be fairly minor at skin level, Suguru was just experiencing a deep exhaustion due to overuse of his technique), but she lingered awkwardly after washing her hands and disposing of the used medical supplies. "Do you want me to leave for this part?"

He was rolling the compacted curse around his hand again, but his attention snapped to her the moment he registered her sentence. "Please don’t."

She pulled a chair up to his bedside, twining her fingers together with his. "Okay. Let me know what you need me to do, then."

Suguru nodded, making face for a brief moment before pushing it into his mouth, his expression contorting into revulsion as he struggled to swallow it in its entirety.

Y/N gently tilted his head back with two fingers, waiting until his throat bobbed as the curse slid down it before she released her support. He gasped, coughing violently with his free hand over his mouth and bending over.

"It’s okay," Y/N tried to say in her lightest voice, though her stomach was twisting at the fact of seeing him in such discomfort. "Let me get some water."

She felt utterly helpless as she raised a cup to his mouth, tightening her grip on his hand and trying to convey her presence with the warmth of her fingers.

"Zero stars," Suguru wheezed, in a weak attempt of humour, downing two more consecutive glasses of water. "Would not leave a good review on Yelp. Please improve customer service."

Y/N giggled, abandoning her chair to squeeze beside him in the pathetically small infirmary bed, pressing close to his side. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"I probably taste gross," he said. "I mean, I want to throw up every time I put that shit in my mouth. It tastes like someone threw up in my mouth."

Not to be deterred, she pressed her lips to his for a moment, immediately yanking back with a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."

"I told you," Suguru teased, pretending to lean in again.

"Gross," Y/N whined, rolling away and nearly falling off the edge of the bed. "You’re right, it was disgusting."

"I’m sorry," he apologised, a genuine regret in his voice. "I mean, I don’t think anyone should ever have to taste that."

"No, like …" She pressed herself back to his side again, head nestled in the crook of his neck. "That’s fine. I don’t mind tasting that a bit if it makes you fell better. If anything, I’m sorry you have to do that regularly."

They lay in silence for a moment.

"Was that cotton candy flavour in your chapstick?" Suguru grinned.

"Seriously?" Y/N laughed, feeling his body shake with his amusement.

"Answer the question!"

"Yes, you’re right."

"Mm." His hand squeezed her at the waist, fingers tracing a pattern she couldn’t make out. "Tastes good."

"You’re insufferable," she groaned.

"What I am is your boyfriend, Y/N," he smirked, voice cracking in amusement as she pretended to huff. "But I like that chapstick."

She reluctantly prised herself out of his hold to stand and get more water. "Well, you can kiss it off me later. After you’ve brushed your teeth."

"That’s so unfair!" he protested. "You kissed me first!"

Y/N tilted her head over her shoulder to respond. "I love you, but that was disgusting, and I’m not doing it again."

Suguru pulled his legs up to his chest, staring at her with an open tenderness. "I love you too."

She glanced back at him, sighing at his puppy eyes. It took barely five seconds before she gave in and strode back to his side, kissing his temple briefly. "I know. You can kiss me all you want later."

He grinned cheekily. "I think I will."

#love.jazzi.#sakura.mochi.#geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 11 months

Note

I’ve really enjoyed your writing and I was curious to know if you ever experience writers block and how you try to drag yourself out of it? (I’m in need of advice)

thank you!! and i most definitely have omg. only rarely do i actually have, like, ideas for a fic. most of the time the hours are ticking past and i’m like FUCK i don’t have a goddamn thought pinging in my brain rn for tonight’s fic 😭😭 so i deal with writers block several times a week lol. i have a couple strategies for it.

1. this one is more of a future set up thing. over the weeks and months i’ve set up a saved folder where i use social media the most —inst*gram — and every time i see something that either reminds me of the blorbos or i think has story potential (which takes some time to start noticing, don’t worry if it’s slow at first, i used to add to the folder like once or twice a week and now it’s once or twice a day lol), i save it:

sometimes i send the post to a friend with a vague outline of what i’m doing, which looks something like this:

and screenshot that for later. this way i have this folder of ideas and one-offs to turn to when the well has run dry. it doesn’t always work, but it works enough that i think it’s worth the effort.

2. this one is less cool and suave, but when i don’t have any ideas, i try to just…write whatever. i don’t mean, like, write a random story, i just mean write random ass words and see what happens. i tend to work best with dialogue, so i’ll just type out a random sentence and see what happens, see what my brain does without me focusing on it. i’ll walk you through one of those now:

“Don’t.”

there’s a random starting word. just a single word. it could go literally anywhere, from humour to actiony order-barking, but i’m getting a bit of an angsty vibe to this, so i’m just going to pick a character — my beloved — who i’m very used to writing and can picture easily and add a dialogue tag.

“Don’t,” Lance warns.

okay! now we’re getting somewhere farther. now i try to ask myself one or two prodding questions: what does his voice sound like? can i hear him saying this in my head? who’s he saying it to? what emotion is he portraying? i don’t have to actually answer any of the questions, but now i’m thinking, baby steps, and i can get going easier, because i’m actually starting to hear this in my head:

“Don’t,” Lance warns, voice wobbling. “Don’t do this to me.”

from here i just see where i can go. one thing i have to remind myself is that no one is holding me to a standard but me. this can be two words or two hundred. a page or a novel. whatever i come up with. i’ll give it a fair chance, but if it doesn’t go anywhere, that’s okay, i’ll try again later. i try to just get into things and go. i’ll lean into what’s familiar to make things easier on myself:

“Don’t,” Lance warns, voice wobbling. “Don’t do this to me.”

Keith looks away. He has a hard enough time keeping steady with Lance normally, when he’s smiling, smirking, when he puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and teases him about his hair.

But when he’s looking at Keith like Keith has a choice to make? And he’s making the wrong one?

It’s almost physical, the ache. The pain of knowing he’s hurting someone but doing it anyway.

“I have to,” Keith says quietly. He clutches the strap of the duffel bag hanging over his shoulder, picking uselessly at a loose thread. “I can’t stay here.”

“You can.” Lance’s voice is still weak, shaking, but there’s something steady to it, a resolution. He’s sure he’s right. “You always can. You’ve never had to run.”

Keith says nothing.

“Don’t run away from me, Keith.”

Lance never pleads. He’s too proud. Keith pretends he doesn’t hear the desperation in his voice, for both of their sakes.

“I’ll call,” Keith offers. He looks up as he says it, but he still doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes. He’s afraid to see the hurt that he knows is there, the disappointment. If he doesn’t look he can pretend it’s not.

“No, you won’t.”

He says it like it’s a surety. Space is vast, time expands, and Keith won’t call. Keith is running away, again.

Keith turns around and leaves without another word.

that took me about six minutes. took some thinking, here and there, but it was easier as i kept going. i stuck to what i’m good at, remembered i don’t need any context for this (it’s just an exercise!) and moved forward.

i hope this is helpful! feel free to dm me if you’re still stuck, i’m happy to bounce around ideas :))

#i hope this was actually useful #ask #my writing #writing advice #writers block #i didn’t put any photo ids bc that’s a shitton of writing but if you need one please let me know!!#longpost

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Never Have I

Summary: During a break in Seoul, Jimin runs into Sooah - and she’s not alone. Meanwhile, Hoseok sees a different side of Chaeyoung’s life.

Pairing: Jimin x OC, Hoseok x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Exes; humour, banter, flirting, bickering, angst

Word count: 11.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, a lot of alcohol, peer pressure, shady characters

A/N: It’s happening! Jimin is back to dealing (or profusely not dealing) with his baggage when it comes to his ex, and Hoseok is back to being a pain in the ass for his best friend’s little sister - just a day in the life 🖤 Takes place a couple of months after A Phone Call and about six months after Movie Night.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids

Listen to: “anna (go to him)” by the beatles

jimin masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Sooah checks her phone as she steps out of the building, squinting slightly at the sunlight. The battery is depleting fast; she hopes it’ll last until she gets home. She considers plugging it into her scooter, when she remembers. Whipping around to run back into the building, she halts in her tracks when she spots her target jogging out of the building in Sooah’s direction.

“Hey!” The younger girl - for she has to be younger; no one her age still has bag tags with fur on them - waves and stops in front of her, panting slightly. “Sooah, right? You forgot this.” In her hand is Sooah’s power bank, slightly frayed on the edges but still sturdy and reliable, her name written in the corner in silver ink.

“Right, thanks.” Glad she doesn’t have to go all the way back inside, Sooah tucks her yoga mat under her arm and smiles. “Your phone good and charged?”

“Yes, thank God. You’re a lifesaver,” adds the other girl, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on the class at all if my phone had died.”

“You concentrated alright, from what I could see,” remarks Sooah. “That was a hell of a backbend.”

Her smile brightens and she looks almost shy, as though she isn’t used to getting compliments. “Thanks.” She tilts her head up towards the sun, her long hair shining in the brightness. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Don’t start. “I did have plans but then my boyfriend got called into work which is where he’s going to be all weekend.” She shakes her head, trying not to sound too disgruntled. “Unless something goes really right and he gets a couple hours off tonight, I’m probably going to sit around with no one but myself for company the entire time.”

The girl winces, and Sooah gets the impression that she truly understands. “Well, I mean, if you’re not doing anything…” she begins, shrugging, “my roommate and I are having a party tonight. If you want to come?”

Sooah squints and frowns, somewhat amused that this girl doesn’t seem to realise she’s invited a total stranger to a party at her house. She asks the first question that pops into her mind. “You, uh… where do you live?”

“Hongdae,” she supplies. “There’s going to be drinks and music and dancing… I mean, only if that’s, like, your thing,” she clarifies suddenly. “Totally cool if it isn’t.”

“No, it’s… it’s definitely my thing,” murmurs Sooah honestly, realising she’s actually considering it. “I - will your roommate be okay with you inviting someone she doesn’t know? Or he?”

“Oh, no, Sungmi is cool. We both have free reign to invite whomever we like.” She leans in a bit then, lowering her voice. “To be honest, I won’t know a lot of people there,” she confesses, looking a bit sheepish. “So I just thought a familiar face would be nice. But, no pressure. Obviously.”

“Of course.” Sooah nods. “I’ll let you know if I can.”

“Sure.” She smiles again. “I’ll give you my number; you can text me in case you decide to come.”

“Cool.” Sooah dictates her number as the girl saves it. A moment later, she hears a ping from her own phone. “Got it.” As the girl waves and starts to leave, Sooah suddenly remembers. “Hey, uh… what’s your name, by the way?”

She looks confused for a second before her eyes go wide. “Oh, God, I’m such a ditz. I’m Chaeyoung,” she says, skipping back over and sticking out her hand for Sooah to shake. “Hope to see you tonight, unnie.”

—

The sun is just setting beyond the horizon when Jimin exits the elevator of the Big Hit building into the basement, with a spirited young idol who’s apparently just made his debut.

“... saw you in Wembley, too,” he gushes, in step with Jimin. His youthful face is full of energy and wonder, and his smile is the exact kind that Big Hit looks for to plaster on billboards everywhere. “My group was in the audience - we couldn’t believe it. The stage was just on fire.”

Jimin grins, a mixture of gratitude and pride. Next to him, Hoseok cracks a bashful smile. “Oh, come on. We all saw your debut. You guys are fantastic - you’ll be at Wembley in no time.”

The younger idol - Alex (“half British, half Korean”) - almost chokes. Even taller than both of them, certainly Namjoon’s height, he looks almost deferential. “We’re just learning from you, hyung,” he says humbly. “Even the hours in the studio are crazy - but it’s worth it.”

“Make good use of the free time you have then.” In a sweet yet clear way that they must now part, Hoseok pats him on the back and waves. “Have a good evening, Alex.” He and Jimin walk towards their car as Alex goes in the other direction, his shoulders clearly reflecting the tiredness Jimin remembers from his own debut days.

“Shit, I feel for them,” he muses, watching him until he disappears behind a pillar before turning to Hoseok. “Remember when Jungkook tried to sneak us that half bucket of fried chicken and got caught?”

“And put the blame on Taehyung?” Hoseok chuckles at the memory while Jimin laughs. “Man, we really had to beat some sense into that kid.”

“Still a work in progress,” remarks Jimin as he climbs into the shotgun seat of the car. While Hoseok adjusts the rearview mirror and straps himself in, Jimin checks his hair and smirks at his reflection. “The blond really suits me, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t believe we have to go to this,” grumbles Hoseok, sighing and reversing out of the parking spot. “Such a bad idea.”

Jimin deflates, realising that this tirade of it’s such a bad idea that had been a constant during their recording session just now, was only going to continue throughout this car ride. “Hyung, I’ll say it again. We don’t have to go.”

“Yes, we do,” mutters Hoseok, driving out of the private exit at the back of the building. “Chaeyoung invited me - because I invited her to my house. If I snub her invitation, she’ll probably go running to her brother or something.”

Jimin squints skeptically. “Really? She’ll go running to her brother if you don’t attend a house party thrown by her roommate?”

“You don’t know her like I do, Jimin.”

He rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s serious tone, unable to understand what it is about that girl Chaeyoung that riles him up. “Fine. Can we listen to music?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Jimin connects his phone to the stereo and puts it on shuffle, easily bopping to the music while Hoseok drives with a scowl on his face. Finally, he speaks again. “Hyung? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, Jimin thinks he isn’t going to answer, but then Hoseok sighs. “Nothing.” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “I just don’t know how to be around her. She’s different and grown up and… we were never really friends.” He shrugs uneasily. “It’s just weird.”

Jimin nods, not quite understanding the extremity of his friend’s reaction. Still, he tries to be supportive. “Well,” he begins, shifting lower in his seat, “speaking as a person who just met her, she’s pretty nice. Fun. You’ve met her a couple times, too, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, at that shoot for Vogue - but she was only filling in for someone,” says Hoseok. “We didn’t really get an opportunity to say anything to each other except a hi.”

“It’s a good start.”

Hoseok cracks a smile. “Thanks for coming with me, though. I know I probably hijacked your Saturday night.”

“Nah, not really. I didn’t have plans.”

“And now your plans involve hanging with Chaeyoung all night.”

“I don’t mind. She’s cute.” When Jimin gets no response, he looks up and does a double take when he sees Hoseok staring at him. “What?”

“She’s cute?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Come on, hyung, don’t be weird about this,” he says dismissively. “She is cute. Jungkook thinks so, too,” he adds casually.

“Do I need to put a leash on you two or something?”

He snickers. “Kinky. Do you think Chaeyoung would -”

“I will drive us into a tree,” warns Hoseok, “and I won’t regret it.”

“No, you won’t,” he retorts, unimpressed. “This is Suga hyung’s car. And I was going to say: do you think Chaeyoung would mind that you brought me along?” Jimin clicks his tongue. “You’re being really high-strung about this. Do you have a crush on her or something?”

“Ugh. Let me know if you see a tree, yeah?” When all Jimin does is hum in response, Hoseok sighs. “I don’t think she’ll mind. She said herself that she won’t know a lot of people there, so she’ll probably be glad to see a familiar face.”

“You’ll be one of those familiar faces, too,” points out Jimin. “That’s probably why she invited you.”

“I guess.” Hoseok is quiet for a minute. “I know she’s not going to complain to her brother. It’s just easier to think that because I don’t know what she’ll do otherwise.”

“Here’s an idea: get to know her.”

Hoseok makes a choking sound. “Let’s not get carried away here. We’re not friends.”

Jimin is about to point out that they can be, but for some reason he feels as though the suggestion would be lost on his friend. He therefore leaves Hoseok to his pensive thoughts and stretches in his seat, feeling like he’d rather enjoy this impromptu weekend plan than sit around and decipher his friend’s many sounds and sighs every time Chaeyoung is brought up. In fact, if he’s learnt anything since he was a wee rookie, like that Alex they just met, it’s that free time cannot be treated callously.

With that thought, they reach Chaeyoung’s apartment twenty minutes later. The sun has now fully set and the buzz of a Saturday night is all around Hongdae. Hoseok parks a couple of buildings away and both of them keep their heads low as they pass the crowd, smoothly making it unseen.

“Jesus,” breathes Hoseok, when they step into the building. His tone betrays nothing except that of something unexpected, and Jimin can’t help but agree. Chaeyoung’s apartment is meant to be on the second floor, but it’s no matter since the entire building seems to be in party mode. It looks like how college dorms are portrayed in movies, with young adults bustling around in various styles of clothing, a thin haze of smoke permeating every corner, and thumping music that seems to be playing through the walls.

“Are you sure she lives here?” Jimin asks as they gingerly step in. He dodges a couple sharing a cigarette and grinding to the music at the same time. “Maybe you should call her.”

“No, this is it,” replies Hoseok grimly, snaking his way around a bunch of guys chugging huge mugs of beer. “Come on, I can’t wait to see how this generation parties.”

As it turns out, the aforementioned generation parties alright. The door to Chaeyoung’s apartment, while open, is still on a floor that’s less crowded. There isn’t as much smoke and most of the partying seems to be happening indoors.

Hoseok and Jimin pause at the door, peering in hesitantly. Jimin, at least, recognises no one - although he sees a couple of people do a double take at the sight of him. He smiles back charmingly while next to him, Hoseok gets on the tips of his toes, as though hoping to spot Chaeyoung in the middle of the party.

“Let’s just go inside,” suggests Jimin, and pulls Hoseok with him by the arm. The apartment is small but lively, seemingly held together at the seams, but has the unmistakable air of cool. Jimin can tell, especially when they walk further into the apartment and he catches a glimpse of someone familiar.

“What the -”

But she’s disappeared. Jimin frowns, knowing it’s too much of a coincidence for Sooah to be at this party, this awfully random party, but also knowing that he’d recognise her face anywhere. “Hey, hyung, did you just see -”

“Chae!” Hoseok’s voice is filled with a mixture of exasperation and relief, and Jimin turns to see Chaeyoung making her way through the crowd towards them, a glass of dark liquid in her hand.

“Hey, you came!” She sounds bright and cheerful, not to mention rather relieved as well. “And you brought Jimin! Hey,” she adds with a light laugh, reaching up to give him a one-armed hug. Jimin raises his eyebrows at Hoseok’s stony face over her shoulder and stifles a laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says cheerfully, straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s still searching for the face he knows he saw. He forces himself to look at Chaeyoung. “Nice party.”

“My roommate’s party,” she corrects, shrugging and looking around. “I unfortunately don’t have friends cool enough to smoke out of rolled up bills and still be doing body shots in this day and age.” She chuckles, but doesn’t sound judgmental. “It’s fun, though. You look great,” she adds, fingering the lapel of his jacket.

“Hey, thanks. You, too.”

“Thanks,” she replies sheepishly, sounding slightly self-conscious. “You look good, too, oppa,” she says after a moment, turning to Hoseok.

Hoseok, who’d been watching this exchange with no signs of amusement, takes a moment to realise he’s being spoken to. “Oh, uh - thank you. So do you,” he says a moment later, glancing and immediately averting his eyes from her bare legs under the short skirt she’s wearing.

Chaeyoung seems satisfied with this level of small talk. “You guys should meet Sungmi - she should be here somewhere…” She trails off, peering at the crowd.

“And Sungmi is… your senior?”

“Yeah, from college. Her boyfriend is here, too,” she adds, turning back around and taking a sip of her drink. “He’s pretty cool. Kind of quiet. But his tattoos are rad.”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows while Jimin makes a noise of appreciation, still subtly searching the crowd for her. “What, uh, what kind of tattoos?” asks the former.

“Nothing much. A tattoo sleeve on his arm, a bunch of stuff on his back,” she supplies, her head bopping subtly to the music. “The usual. His cousin’s are even cooler.”

“His -”

“Yeah, they hang out here a lot. Oh, there he is!” She points to the far end of the living room where a guy in his late twenties emerges out of a hallway, a tall girl swaying to the music beside him. His hair is a frozen blue, and Chaeyoung seems to have missed his most important tattoo - the one on his face. “That’s Ice, and Sungmi with him.”

Even Jimin lets out a low whistle, glancing over at Hoseok who looks scandalised. Neither of them bother to ask if his name really is Ice.

“How, uh -” Hoseok swallows. “And, uh, where - where did she meet this gentleman?”

“A concert.”

“Yeah? What was he doing at the concert?”

Chaeyoung gives him a look. “I don’t know. What do you do at a concert?”

Jimin snickers while Hoseok narrows his eyes. “I perform. What does Ice do?”

“Oh. Duh.” She lets out a light laugh. “He was just in the crowd. She met him while he was filming the mosh pit.”

Hoseok chokes just as the most familiar face comes back into view for Jimin - and this time, she spots him, too. “Of course,” he whispers, his heart already racing as her eyes light up with recognition.

Next to him, his friend seems to spot her, too. “Hey, is that Sooah?”

Chaeyoung frowns in surprise and turns around as Sooah makes her way over to them. In a shimmery top and black jeans, she looks, once again, like she just heard about this party and turned up to it, dressed to perfection for the occasion.

“Guys, hi!” She sounds more relieved than any of them at the sight of familiar people and immediately reaches up to give Jimin a hug before moving to Hoseok. “I had no idea you’d be here,” she adds, sounding slightly breathless and turning to Chaeyoung.

“Yeah, same here -” Jimin starts to say, but Chaeyoung beats him to it.

“Wait,” she says, pointing to Sooah and Jimin, “how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we’re -” She catches Jimin’s eye and gives him a small smile. “We’re old friends.” She looks at Hoseok. “How do you guys know each other?”

“Same,” replies Hoseok, gesturing to Chaeyoung. “We’re old… neighbours.”

Chaeyoung wrinkles her nose. “Smooth.”

Hoseok makes a face while Jimin swallows, feeling the familiar rush of excitement and anticipation at seeing his ex-girlfriend. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.

“I didn’t either,” she agrees, taking a sip of her drink - a whiskey, from the looks of it - and nodding. “It was shaping up to be a pretty shit weekend in all, but then someone -” She throws a friendly arm around Chaeyoung’s shoulders and squeezes it “- invited a practical stranger to a party at her house.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, a faint blush spreading to her cheeks. “You’re not a stranger. Today was our fifth class together,” she points out. “But I’m glad you know these guys,” she adds, pointing at Jimin and Hoseok. “I was feeling a bit guilty, thinking you’d only have me and your boyfriend for company.”

Jimin’s mind does a double take but he can’t immediately pinpoint why. When he notices Sooah’s gaze flicker to him, he remembers.

I was a bit nervous to tell you that I’m seeing someone, if I’m being honest.

He’d balked at the word “seeing” but thankfully, Chaeyoung’s remark answers a question he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to ask - at least, not without letting Sooah think he really cared.

“You guys should meet him, too,” she says lightly after a moment. “He’s really great.”

“Of course,” he says, glad to hear his voice sounds normal, for if he really thinks about it, he doesn’t mind.

As he thinks about it, he scans the crowd, automatically wondering which one of the guys in this room could be Sooah’s new boyfriend. There’s the one in the middle of a circle by the sofas with a charming smile and a girl on either side of him; if this were high school, this guy would be Jimin’s first guess. But if she doesn’t know anyone at this party then neither does her boyfriend, so Jimin moves on.

There’s another guy by the dining table where all the drinks are, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket - in the summer: also potentially Sooah’s type. Then there’s one by the balcony, not really standing outside but not standing inside either, smoking a cigarette while he stands alone. Not quite Sooah’s type of boyfriend, but definitely Sooah’s type of distraction.

Jimin’s brought out of his surveillance when Hoseok nudges him. “I’m going to get a drink,” he says, somewhat pointedly. “You want one, too?”

“Um…” He meets Sooah’s gaze, who gives him an innocent smile. Fighting one of his own, he shakes his head. “You go ahead. I’ll, uh… I’ll think about what I want.”

“Okay.” Hoseok shrugs and turns to Chaeyoung, his tone shifting. “Alright, what have you kids got to drink here?”

She clicks her tongue as they walk away. “Sungmi is, like, two years younger than you, oppa…”

Jimin watches them, fully aware of Sooah taking a couple forward until she’s right next to him. He catches a faint whiff of her perfume, something like roses and sugar.

“You look great,” she says, giving his frame a quick once-over.

He tries, for a moment, to think of something witty to say but gives up. “Thanks. You, too. But you know that,” he adds.

“I hoped.” She nudges his shoulder softly. “I’m really glad to see you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Sooah holds his gaze for a second before her shoulders fall slightly. “Come on, Chim. This isn’t going to be awkward, is it?”

Jimin flushes, suddenly feeling rather juvenile. “Of course not. It’s really good to see you, too, Sooah,” he says after a moment, realising he means it.

“Great.” Sooah nods in what he imagines is sympathy. “I would… really like for you to meet him.” There’s no need to specify who “him” is referring to. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Of course. Sooah, come on, I know we were… fooling around,” he says, and they share a sheepish smile, “but we haven’t dated in years.”

“Five years, to be exact,” she remembers softly.

He swallows. “Yeah. We’ve both dated since then. It’s not a big deal,” he adds, not fully sure if he even believes it himself.

Sooah watches him for a moment before nodding. “That’s true. I guess we’ve just never been friends while dating someone else. This would be the first time.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

She laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “I have faith in you, Chim.”

“And I have faith in you. Which is why I hope that I didn’t get replaced by a guy wearing metallic buckles in his jacket.”

She immediately turns in the direction he’s gesturing in, before snorting. “God, no. It would be so difficult to take off,” she adds cheekily.

“That’s what I thought.” He taps his temple dramatically. “The guy with the red hair, though -” He points at the makeshift bar, “he just drank the foam out of the mug while he poured his beer.” He lets out a low whistle. “Come on, that’s got to be impressive.”

“Everything a girl looks for in a guy,” she agrees dryly. “Any other guesses?”

Jimin grins, for this exercise feels like a crash course in Sooah’s romantic past - the one list Sooah has admitted in the past that was topped by him.

“Oh, I don’t know. How about that one over there? We all know how much you love facial piercings.”

“A real winner.”

“And he’s got one of those cool wrap-around earphones. Sooah, you may just have hit a jackpot with -” He breaks off when he sees Sooah’s gaze shift to something behind him.

“All worthy guesses, Chim,” she begins, clearly trying to suppress a smile, “but it’s time you met the real one.” She pats his shoulder and grins. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Jimin takes a second to process this abrupt change in topic but turns to watch her wade through the crowd, only to reach -

“Fuck.”

The word falls out of his mouth before he can help it, and he hasn’t a clue what it means. All he knows is that when he sees Sooah reach up to hug debut rookie half-British-half-Korean Alex, he almost wonders for a moment if coincidences really do occur in the universe or if the universe just enjoys fucking with him.

As Sooah brings Alex over, Jimin is suddenly conscious of his hands. They hang by his side uselessly before he quickly stuffs them into the pockets of his jacket, just as Alex catches sight of him.

“Jimin sunbaenim!” Alex exclaims, loud enough that a couple of people even turn to look. “Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, too! Sooah, do - do you know him?”

Sooah doesn’t speak for a moment. She looks up at him and nods before, with what looks like an enormous effort, she turns to Jimin. “Yeah, we know each other from school,” she says to Alex, while her gaze bores into Jimin’s, as though daring him to say something.

Jimin, for all his self-control, gives her a wide smile. “It’s true,” he agrees. “Sooah was the most popular girl in our class.”

“Really?” Alex grins down at her and they seem to share a momentary private joke. “Somehow, I can believe that.”

“And Jimin was the best dancer in our class,” she adds, nudging his arm. “And the best at math.”

“I can believe that, too. The dance part, not the math,” corrects Alex immediately. “I mean - I’m sure you were good at math, too, hyung.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Jimin chuckles. “It’s okay. You didn’t tell me this was your night off.”

“Big Hit must have gotten more lenient over time,” offers Sooah, giving him a knowing look.

Alex doesn’t catch on. “We’ve been rehearsing for three days straight so they gave us tonight to go home. But I haven’t seen Sooah in a while, so…” He shrugs and puts an arm around her shoulder. Jimin is surprised to see the smile that involuntarily appears on her face, when Alex continues. “You would know what that’s like, though, hyung.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s the price of debuting,” he says finally, slowly looking over at Sooah, whose smile fades slightly.

“Seems like it’s worth it.” Before Jimin can process why this response stings something ancient in his heart, she turns to Alex. “Let’s get you a drink?”

“Oh…” He winces apologetically. “Sorry, noona, I can’t drink tonight. We have that shoot tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” She bites her lip before linking her arm with his. “Alright. Why don’t you come with me while I get a drink? You should say hi to Chaeyoung, too.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, sunbaenim,” he says to Jimin, eyes shining, before he and Sooah leave for the drinks’ table.

Years and years ago, when Jimin had first accompanied Sooah to one of their high school parties, he had wondered for the umpteenth time whether they even made sense together. When they were alone, they did. They laughed, bickered, kissed in empty classrooms and texted all night underneath the covers. Beautiful, popular Kim Sooah was goofy and silly and funny and adorable, and Jimin felt like he’d won the lottery at sixteen.

But out in public, Kim Sooah was Kim Sooah, and Jimin was the boyfriend that everyone subconsciously frowned at momentarily before smiling and introducing themselves. Sooah hadn’t left his side, though, not even when her friends had called her over, not when the drinking games had commenced. She’d given him his first drink - a vodka - a little hesitantly.

“This doesn’t make me a bad influence, does it?”

She’d bit her lip, red and plump, as she tugged her tube top up her chest. Jimin, who’d been fairly curious about alcohol anyway, had only one answer in mind.

“Of course not,” he’d said, smiling and taking the glass. “I need to fit in with your friends eventually, don’t I?”

“Don’t worry about them,” she’d said dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to drink that if you don’t want, Jimin.”

He appreciated it, but Jimin knew he had a rare opportunity. Boys like him didn’t attract the attention of girls like Kim Sooah; if he had any hope of sustaining this, he needed to prove he could fit in with the cool kids.

Across the room, Sooah mixes herself a gin cocktail, hands moving with ease. Next to her, Alex reads the label of a soju bottle before muttering something to her that makes her laugh and nod.

“Wow, you’re Jimin, right? From BTS?”

Startled, Jimin turns to see a girl about his height, her face flushed as she takes in his appearance.

“Um -” He clears his throat. “That’s right.”

“Wow, I can’t believe it,” she breathes. Behind her, a couple of more people spot him, their eyes going wide. “Can I take a selfie with you?”

“Uh, sure.” Before he knows it, she’s leaned over to him and raised her phone, clicking a series of pictures in succession in which she’s pouting and he’s just about registering what’s happening.

“Thank you,” she gushes, reaching over and giving him a half-hug that he returns hesitantly. “Find me later,” she says in a low voice before stepping away. “If you’re still here.”

It takes Jimin a moment to gather his bearings, even as a lightness spreads through his insides. Suddenly confident, he struts over to where Sooah is standing next to the mantle, this time by herself.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the wall next to her as she scrolls through her phone, drink in her other hand. “Where’s my biggest fan?”

Sooah doesn’t even look up. “Probably in a dark room somewhere, stalking your flight schedule?”

“Not him,” says Jimin, unfazed. “My other biggest fan.” He leans closer to her, his bangs brushing hers. “Noona.”

“Don’t start, Jimin.”

He laughs. “What? I thought you hated being called noona.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Really? You threw a piece of chalk at Taehyung’s head when he called you that once.”

“That’s because he was fucking with me,” she clarifies, finally looking up at him and holding up a finger. “Secondly, it’s a little hard to get annoyed by it as you get older. There’s too many people calling you that all of a sudden.”

“Including your boyfriend. Where is he, by the way?” Jimin asks, scanning the crowd briefly.

“He ran into someone he knew.” Sooah turns to face him, leaning sideways against the wall. “Jimin.”

“Sooah.” He grins down at her, his gaze involuntarily flickering to her red lips. “Did he mention that I ran into him at Big Hit?”

“No. Was he supposed to?”

“Fans do that sometimes. How have we never been introduced before? I mean, we seem to have a lot in common.”

Sooah scoffs. “This might surprise you, but you are not first in line of the people I want to introduce my boyfriend to. But wait a second,” she adds, straightening up slightly, “weren’t you dating a girl, too? When do I get to meet her?” She looks around, as though hoping to spot her. “You didn’t bring her?”

Jimin frowns and it takes him a second to place the name. Ahnjong. The name, still one of the sweetest he’s ever heard, swims through his mind, as does the disastrous ending to their date two months ago.

“Yeah, that…” He rubs the back of his neck. “We, uh… we decided to see other people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not like, say, your boyfriend.”

“Jimin,” she repeats.

“Sooah.”

She sighs. “God, you’re cocky.”

Jimin chuckles as she rolls her eyes. “Hey, I love my fans, alright? They are what keep me going, Sooah. You should be more respectful of that.”

“Shut up.”

“What? You used to be one of them,” he reminds her.

“Yeah, and now I’m dating one of them.” She holds his gaze. “He’s my boyfriend, Jimin.”

“He’s a rookie.”

Sooah raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Whatever Jimin had been about to say goes straight out the window in an instant. “And…” He pauses, desperate suddenly to change tacks “… where does he find the time to date?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Where did you find the time to date?”

“I didn’t,” he points out forcefully. “That was the problem, apparently.”

“That was not the -“ Sooah breaks off abruptly, exhaling. “No. No,” she mutters, shaking her head before looking up at Jimin. “You really want to do this now?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he shoots back, even as his heart races. All it takes is a momentary lapse of emotion for them to fall back into the darkest pits of their history, and Jimin isn’t sure she wants that. Not with her new boyfriend in the vicinity.

Sooah sighs and looks away uncomfortably. “Look, aside from the girl that I met at yoga class today for the first time, I don’t know a single person here. Except for you.” She tilts her head and frowns slightly. “Can we please not do this now?”

A vision of teenage Kim Sooah, soft cheeks and sparkling eyes, whining cutely at him for the first time clouds Jimin’s mind. Even sweaty after volleyball practice with her hair unbrushed and tumbling down her shoulders, she was irresistible.

“You know Hoseok hyung,” he points out after a moment, mimicking her position.

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t count. He’s busy. In fact,” she continues, just as Jimin opens his mouth “word on the street is, he’s been prowling around the apartment and was last seen in the kitchen, taking pictures.”

He frowns. “What? Like, selfies?”

“No, pictures of the kitchen.” Sooah drops her hands from her hips to her sides. “I mean, I’m sorry to tell you this, Jimin, but your friend might be a crazy person.”

None of this makes a jot of sense to Jimin. He stares at her before clearing his throat. “Okay, we’ll - we’ll circle back to that,” he says quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So… what? We’re going to play drinking games until your boyfriend joins us?”

“Yes,” she answers, looking relieved. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Fine. Twenty questions.” He smirks.

Sooah rolls her eyes. “Oh, God. Okay, twenty questions. But I’m warning you, you may not actually want the answers to some of your questions.” Her gaze darts to something over his shoulder and Jimin turns to see Alex wave back as he talks to a girl. “Do you mind if he joins us?”

Do I ever. “Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I am all for hanging out with -“

“Do not say my biggest fans.”

Jimin scoffs. “I was going to say… I’m all for hanging out with my ex-girlfriend’s… new boyfriend.”

Sooah gives him a look before chuckling. “You are so transparent, Chim.”

Jimin laughs. “What? You can invite him if you want.”

“Nobody should play drinking games with you,” she states, poking him in the chest. “Not without supervision.”

He nudges her shoulder playfully with his. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?”

“And we both know I’m a really good influence.” She taps his shoulder and grabs his arm, steering him to the drinks table. “Go on, choose your poison. Oh, wait, I know your poison,” she chuckles, grabbing the vodka and cranberry juice.

Jimin snickers as she makes him his drink, taking sips of her own from next to her. When she hands him the pink cocktail, smelling like just the right combination of sweetness and youth, he suddenly feels as though the entire night was leading to this: a wild Saturday night with Kim Sooah.

“Cheers.” She clinks his glass with his and watches as he takes the first sip, grinning when he dramatically smacks his lips.

“You can become a great bartender,” he tells her genuinely, his face already feeling warm from the vodka. “If this entire event planning thing doesn’t work.”

“It’s worked out well so far,” she says serenely. “I get to meet a lot of pretty cool people that way.”

Jimin bites his lip, remembering the last time he’d attended an event she was working at. He wonders if she’s truly being so bold as to bring that up, when he remembers that a work event is also where she’d met Alex. His drink seems less pink all of a sudden.

Sooah doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay, I’m going to go rescue Alex now,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

“For twenty questions?”

“Or something.” She rolls her eyes but smiles, already taking a step in Alex’s direction. “Don’t make me regret this, Chim.”

Jimin simply raises his glass in response as he watches her go. Across the room, Alex doesn’t seem at all like he needs rescuing; his smile is the smile, the media smile that’s drilled into every trainee as he nods at the girls speaking to him.

It’s not quite Sooah’s move, he reflects. Jealousy had never been part of the many issues they had dealt with, which made sense given that there had never been another person that had entered their relationship. Just the two of them had been enough for it to implode each time.

As she reaches Alex and joins the conversation with ease, however, it occurs to Jimin that his data points are limited to their relationship only - and just because she wasn’t jealous with him, doesn’t mean she doesn’t get jealous at all.

The realisation confuses him to no end, as does the annoyance that comes with it. He gives her a proper once-over; she’s as gorgeous and sexy as ever, still somehow the life of the party despite not knowing anyone, but the attraction ends there. There’s too much baggage that prevents him from going further and the fact that one of them is in a relationship can finally signal the end of their ambiguous connection.

Sooah leans into Alex’s side then and he puts his arm around her shoulder. Jimin rolls his eyes, deciding he can’t watch this anymore; just because they’ve moved on doesn’t mean he needs a front row seat for their honeymoon period. He turns around and heads into the kitchen, only to be met by Hoseok with his phone pointed at nothing in particular.

“Uh, hyung?” Jimin steps in gingerly. “What are you -”

“Look at this,” interrupts Hoseok, not taking his eyes off the screen until he clicks a picture. He points to something in one of the lower cabinets and Jimin peers over his shoulder to check it out. “Look at how close the gas line is to that plug point.”

“The -”

“What if it sparks?” Hoseok shakes his head, eyes wide and manic. “The entire apartment could catch fire!”

“That’s a bit unlikely,” points out Jimin hesitantly. “And… why are you taking a picture of it?”

“I’m sending it to her brother,” he mutters, going back to examining the offending gas line. “God, this is so typical of Chaeyoung. So irresponsible.”

“So your solution is to tattle on her?”

“Well, she’s not going to listen to me.” Hoseok scoffs, turning and pointing to one of the upper cabinets. “Look here. Do you see that?” he asks, tapping a splintered piece of wood jutting out at his eye level. “I almost knocked my head on it.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Well… she’s about six inches shorter than you so it’s probably not as much a problem for her?”

“Irrelevant,” he dismisses immediately. “Anyone could get hurt. Look, I don’t like having to take such drastic measures, alright?” he continues. “But believe me, she is going to resist every single suggestion that either of us -“

At that moment, a shorter figure comes barrelling into the kitchen, leaving a faint flowery scent in her wake.

“Oh, God, it’s true,” she exclaims with dread. Reaching forward and snatching Hoseok’s camera, she gasps as she sees the picture on it. “Jesus Christ, oppa, why do you have to be such a freak?”

“I’m the freak? Look at your gas line!”

“There is nothing wrong with -”

“Chae - do you have any idea how dangerous it is to have it so exposed that it’s -”

“It doesn’t even matter! It’s not my apartment,” she reminds him, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “It’s Sungmi’s, and I can’t go around changing things without discussing them with her.”

Hoseok glares at her before exhaling through his nose, apparently trying to calm himself. “What about this?” he demands, pointing at the broken cabinet.

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows “What about it?”

“Do you need her permission to get things fixed, too?”

“Um, kind of, yeah,” she answers, looking a bit incredulous now. “I can’t afford to get things fixed by myself in any case. And besides,” she continues, reaching up and tapping the piece of wood, “neither Sungmi or I can even reach this.”

“I’m sure Chan will be more than happy to help you out.”

Even Jimin, who hasn’t known Chaeyoung very long at all, knows from the way her eyes widen that this was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, of course you think Chan needs to come to my rescue!” She scoffs and places her drink on the counter with a loud thud. “You really don’t think I can make it a second without my perfect brother, do you?”

“That’s not what I meant! I just - okay, I’ll pay for it,” he backtracks hastily. “I don’t mind, really, just as long as you -”

“Seriously? I don’t even know when I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“You don’t have to -”

But Chaeyoung cuts him off. “And you’re overreacting, oppa,” she informs him, folding her arms across her chest. “The only person who can even reach this is Ice, and he’s never brought it up in all the -”

“Ice? How often is he over here?” He whips around to look at Jimin, as though expecting him to have the answer. Before Jimin can stutter out a response, however, someone else joins them in the kitchen.

“Hey,” a voice drawls, sounding like it’s coming from miles away. Everyone turns to see the aforementioned Ice, blue-grey hair, facial tattoo and crooked smile on full display. In one hand is a glass of whiskey and in the other, a joint between his fingers. “Thought I heard someone say my name.”

“Oh… hey, Ice,” says Chaeyoung, taking a step back.

“Hey, hey,” he replies, swaggering into the kitchen with that distinct aura of speaking from far away. “Everyone having fun?” he asks, reaching down to hug Chaeyoung without warning, who simply pats his shoulder as he steps away.

Ice doesn’t seem to realise, drifting sideways to hug Jimin next. “It’s a party, yo,” he informs them, raising his joint. “Come on in, man,” he says to Hoseok, apparently waiting for a hug. When he doesn’t move, Jimin suppresses a snort, immediately burying his face into his glass.

Ice frowns, looking mildly confused. “No?” He places a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. “I like this one,” he says to no one in particular.

Hoseok, clearly speechless, simply stares at Ice’s hand before looking back at him, and then at Chaeyoung as if to say Really?

Even Chaeyoung shrugs, looking somewhat embarrassed until a few more people enter the kitchen and Ice is successfully distracted.

Jimin, who had been greatly enjoying the episode between Hoseok and this girl from his past who irritated the life out of him, takes this opportunity to intervene.

“Alright, who needs another drink?” he asks in a low voice so only the two of them can hear.

Chaeyoung turns to him as though just realising he’s there. “Jimin,” she states, “will you please tell Hoseok that he’s being insane?”

“Oh, grow up, will you?” Hoseok snaps back.

“You grow up -“

“Okayyy, tensions are high,” interrupts Jimin soothingly, “because everybody’s too sober.” He turns Chaeyoung around by the shoulders and steers her out of the kitchen. Hoseok follows without a word, rolling his eyes.

They reach the drinks table again where Sooah seems to have successfully rescued her boyfriend.

“Sooah!” Jimin points at Chaeyoung and Hoseok frantically. “We have a sobriety emergency for you.”

“On it,” she replies, without missing a beat. “Cosmo for you and… Hoseok? For you?”

“I’m driving,” he answers sullenly.

“We’ll get Suga hyung to pick us up,” interjects Jimin hastily. “He’ll have tequila,” he tells Sooah.

“Perfect.” She bustles around the tables, gathering her paraphernalia and mixing a row of drinks with precision. Jimin watches with admiration, amusement and a bit of nostalgia while stealing glances at Hoseok and Chaeyoung beside him, both of whom glare in opposite directions.

“Alright, drink up, everyone.” Sooah passes a drink each to Hoseok and Chaeyoung, followed by one for Jimin. “You need to freshen yours up, too,” she adds with a smirk.

He holds up his half-finished drink. “But I’m not -” He breaks off when Sooah clinks her own half-empty glass with his. “Right.”

“Bottoms up, Chim.”

Both of them guzzle down their drinks in one go before emerging, warm and flushed. Jimin’s face feels like it’s on fire and his throat burns. But when he spots Sooah shaking out her hair and reaching enthusiastically for her fresh drink, he rallies.

“Cheers, guys,” he says, turning so that Hoseok and Chaeyoung can clink their glasses, too, when he notices something amiss. “Alex,” he adds, raising his eyebrows. “No drink for you?”

Alex, standing a step behind Sooah and smiling as he watched them drink, looks surprised to be spoken to. “Oh, I - I have rehearsal tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And… well, I don’t – I don’t want to be hungover during it.” He chuckles sheepishly. “Yeonjun hyung will kill me.”

“One drink won’t get you hungover,” says Jimin dismissively, reaching for a can of beer on the table and tossing it to him, which he catches at the last moment.

“You don’t have to drink that, Alex.” Sooah cuts in. “Jimin.”

“What?” Jimin half-chuckles, but there’s suddenly far less humour in it. “He can’t be the only one not drinking. They’re called drinking games for a reason.”

“I don’t mind,” says Alex quickly. “It’s just one drink, noona. And… beer doesn’t have sugar,” he adds a bit uncertainly, glancing at the label.

“Exactly. And he’ll work off the carbs at practice tomorrow, anyway.” Jimin grins. “Been there, done that.”

Sooah fixes him with a steely look that he returns innocently, taking a sip of his vodka drink. Behind her, Alex’s face seems to crease at the mention of carbs.

“Just one,” he mutters to himself, before holding it a few inches away and cracking it open. A bit of foam overflows and drips on the floor, but he takes a big gulp anyway. “Good beer,” he says after a moment.

“We also have breezers -” Chaeyoung starts to say but Hoseok catches her eye and shakes his head an infinitesimal amount, causing her to fall silent.

“Alright, now that everyone has their drinks,” continues Jimin, deliberately not looking at Sooah, “we can begin. Twenty questions, you said?”

“You said. And drinking games are perfectly possible without alcohol,” adds Sooah, apparently not about to let this go. “Remember your first drinking game?”

Jimin’s smile fades a bit as flashes surface from the recesses of his memory: a crowded house, a glass of Coke - and laughter from his classmates. Sooah hadn’t rushed to his defense this quickly then.

“Yeah, I remember,” he replies after a moment. “Just making sure Alex doesn’t make the same mistake.”

“That’s not your call, though. He can decide what he wants to do.”

“Wow, did you hear that, oppa?” Chaeyoung pipes up. “Sound familiar?”

Hoseok scoffs. “Seriously? How is what I said similar to this?”

“It’s the way you said it, like you think I can’t do a single thing right.”

“That sounds familiar,” mutters Jimin into his drink, just loud enough for Sooah to hear.

“Oh, God, Jimin,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “Now you’re just reaching. You can drink if you want, but you don’t get to tell others how to -”

“It’s a party! Let loose here because you can’t anywhere else - remember when you told me that?”

“I remember that that was in the context of you worrying about your math homework at a party, Jimin.”

Jimin gasps, his cheeks growing hot. “Never have I ever worried about my math -”

“Oh, are we playing Never Have I Ever?” A voice interrupts them, sounding incongruously excited. Everyone turns to see Sungmi and her boyfriend Ice in tow, holding a drink and a joint respectively. When no one responds, she frowns. “No? Damn, this party must be going worse than I thought.”

“We can play Never Have I Ever,” offers Chaeyoung, turning to the others. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever… poked my nose in someone else’s business,” she finishes, looking straight at Hoseok.

He gives her an unimpressed look and takes an exaggerated sip of his drink, wincing slightly. Meanwhile, everyone else in the circle takes a sip as well, some sheepish, some shameless and, in Jimin’s case, with a bit of guilt.

“Your turn, Jimin,” says Chaeyoung, sounding satisfied.

“Okay, um…” Jimin wracks his brain, the alcohol suddenly making his mind swim. “Never have I ever dated a carbon copy of my ex.”

He watches as all the expression leaves Sooah’s face, but he turns away, looking questioningly at everyone in the circle. Hoseok wrinkles his nose while Chaeyoung snorts and shakes her head. Sungmi tilts her head thoughtfully and takes a sip, however. Across the makeshift circle, Sooah deliberately places her glass on the table while, to Jimin’s surprise, Alex takes a small sip of his beer.

“Alright, your turn, hyung,” says Jimin after a moment.

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he scrambles for a question. “Um, never have I ever… been to a party where I don’t know a single person apart from the host?”

Every single person in the circle takes a drink, including Ice, who takes a sip of his girlfriend’s.

“That was a good one,” remarks Sungmi, smiling with humour. “Okay, I’m next - and we’re going to make this exciting now,” she adds, rubbing her hands dramatically. “Okay, never have I ever… had a sex dream about someone in this room.”

A sort of silence seems to spread through the circle. Swallowing, Jimin takes a hesitant sip of his drink, glancing as quickly as he can at Sooah. She takes a sip, too, her eyes on the contents of her glass the entire time. Apart from them, Alex takes a sheepish sip, and Sungmi and Ice both take turns as well. Jimin feels something move next to his elbow but ignores it, eager to move the game along.

“Babe, that was an easy one,” drawls Ice, winking at the circle. “We’re all people, we all love, we all dream,” he rambles, taking another long puff of his joint. “I’ve had dreams, too, you know? I’ve had dreams about my lovely lady here -” He pulls Sungmi to his side by the waist and kisses her neck “- I’ve had dreams about my tattoo artist, I’ve have had dreams of Sungmi and my tattoo artist, Sungmi and her roommate -”

“Wait, what did you say?” Hoseok begins sharply, but Chaeyoung immediately interrupts him.

“Okay, no, the game, the game! Uh, Ice - it’s your turn, I think,” she adds hastily, stepping closer to Jimin. But Ice waves a hand good-naturedly.

“Nah, I’m good, sweetheart. I live here, in the mind and the -”

“Okay, moving on,” interrupts Sungmi, and Jimin guesses her boyfriend has finally made her uncomfortable as well. “It’s, uh - your turn,” she says, pointing at Alex. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, I’m -”

“This is Alex,” says Jimin brightly. “He’s Sooah’s boyfriend.” Sungmi’s blank expression tells Jimin a moment later that she obviously has no idea who Sooah is either, but she shrugs eventually.

“You go, Alex.”

“Um -” With his wide eyes, full and parted lips, and his hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, he looks like every label’s dream idol. Jimin taps his foot impatiently, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by a few others.

“Okay, uh, never have I -”

“Make it a good one, Alex,” warns Sungmi.

“Ah, I’m sure he will, unnie,” snickers Chaeyoung, raising her glass encouragingly. “Come on, Alex, the pressure is on!”

“- ever - okay -”

“They’re just kidding, babe,” murmurs Sooah with a smile, squeezing his arm.

“Only a bit,” adds Jimin, winking and ignoring her frown.

“- lost my virginity to someone in this room!”

Everyone processes this before a few chuckles break out. “Alright, that was a good one,” allows Sungmi. “Not one I can drink to, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, we may have gone into historic territory here,” agrees Chaeyoung, “but you just made the game a lot more interesting. Cheers.”

No one seems to notice Jimin and Sooah lock gazes for a moment before quietly sipping their drinks. Memories that Jimin had always treasured threaten to resurface, but there is nothing he wants to be reminded of less at the moment.

“Your turn, Sooah.” Alex nudges her gently.

“Right.” She clears her throat and stares at the floor. “Never have I ever lied to someone while breaking up with them.”

Jimin scoffs audibly but it fortunately gets drowned in a sea of agreement, with almost everyone taking a sip of their drink. He doesn’t, however, shaking his head slightly at Sooah. A part of him is unsurprised; this had to happen eventually. There was seldom a time when he and Sooah got together and didn’t begin descending into their history - and it was never pretty.

“My turn, then,” chimes Chaeyoung. Her drink is almost over now and she stumbles slightly next to him. “Um… never have I ever been cheated on.”

Sungmi rolls her eyes and drinks, as does Hoseok. Across from the circle, Sooah lifts her drink to her mouth and pauses for a moment before drinking. Her eyes flicker to Jimin before looking away.

His heart thuds in his chest. Nothing would ever be good enough for Kim Sooah. Not two years of a relationship, not how much they meant to each other - none of it. All that would ever matter to her would be how they broke up - even if part of it wasn’t true.

“Jimin?”

He comes out of it, chewing the inside of his lip. “Never have I ever…” His eyes dart up to Alex, who seems to be realising that something is awry. “... dated another idol’s ex-girlfriend.”

No one drinks, predictably. Jimin ignores the “huh?”s and the joking groans, his gaze solely on Alex who, frowning at Jimin, slowly takes a sip of his drink. Next to him, Sooah closes her eyes.

Jimin waits to feel victorious, for it’s clear that Alex now knows about his and Sooah’s shared history. But a deep-seated bitterness creeps through instead. New boyfriend in, old boyfriend out.

“Okay… who’s next?”

“Oh, that’s me, I think,” says Hoseok distractedly, reaching out to steady Chaeyoung. “Um - I don’t know. Can I pass?”

“I’ll take your turn.” Sooah’s voice rings out, calm and sharp. She looks at Jimin through steely, heavy-lidded eyes; standing next to a tall and handsome boyfriend, Jimin can almost imagine this is high school once again - but in a parallel universe where she would ever look at him with anything but affection.

“Never have I ever caused a friend’s break-up.”

There are scoffs from around the circle, with Sungmi and Ice both taking a sip each. From next to him, Chaeyoung takes a sheepish sip as well, while Jimin glares at Sooah. The cranberry and vodka drink suddenly looks vile in his glass and he feels like he could throw up.

“Think I need some air,” he mutters, turning around and leaving the circle amidst the mild chatter. He places the glass on some surface on the way as he nudges his way through the crowd of drunken young adults. He just about exits the apartment when he realises he has no plan whatsoever of where to go, but he knows he can’t go back. So he carries on, reaching the end of the hallway where the warm summer breeze of the night gives him some respite from the haze of smoke at the party.

He hears footsteps behind him then, right on cue.

“Storming out, Jimin?” The footsteps stop abruptly. “Really?”

He doesn’t even turn around. “Don’t start, Sooah.”

“Jesus Christ. You have to grow out of this.”

“Grow out of this?” Jimin finally whips around, momentarily surprised to see her standing so close to him. Goosebumps have erupted on her bare shoulders but she doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Yeah. It’s been long enough.” Sooah gives him a distinctly unimpressed look, as though this fight isn’t worth her time.

“You know what? Why don’t you just go back to your boyfriend?” Jimin says scathingly.

“I will, just as soon you stop - okay, no, you are not walking away from me right now.”

Jimin rounds on her the moment he hears footsteps behind him again. “You completely attacked me in there!” he blurts out accusingly.

“Because you attacked Alex!” Sooah sighs in frustration. “He’s my boyfriend, Jimin. You can’t go there - you know that.”

“You’ve known Alex for three months. And you’ve known me for six years, Sooah,” he reminds her, knowing deep down that it hardly matters. But the words spill out like they’ve been pressing up against his vocal chords, desperate to get out since the evening began.

She’s quiet for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, well.” She gives him a look that’s part firm and part sympathetic. “Unfortunately, current boyfriend trumps ex-boyfriend. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

Jimin scoffs, ignoring his stomach sinking. “What happened to old friends?”

“You are an old friend, but you’re also my ex. And boyfriend trumps -”

“Yeah, I got it,” he interrupts her, rolling his eyes. “I thought it was all in good fun,” he says after a moment, looking away from her.

Even without looking, he can hear the skepticism in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes. I - I may have gone a bit overboard in the end,” he admits, swallowing as he remembers Alex’s confused face, the realisation dawning on him. “I just… didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Definitely not with someone.

“Jimin, it’s been five years,” she reminds him in a low voice. “We’ve both dated other people since then; it can’t be a surprise that -”

“I don’t care that you’re dating him,” he interrupts her again, realising as he says it that it’s true. He doesn’t care, not really. Not like that, anyway. “You and I dated in high school. I never expected us to end up married or anything. Okay? We’ve all moved on.”

Sooah doesn’t say anything, just continues looking at him, a small frown on her face. She’s confused.

Jimin can relate. It’s immeasurably frustrating not being able to put his finger on the problem. “It’s just weird… seeing it up close,” he finishes lamely, knowing it’s the best he can come up with right now.

“Even now?”

“Yeah. I mean, the last time I saw it up close was…” He shrugs. “... when we were sixteen. With Daehyun.”

Sooah’s eyes widen right on cue. “Oh, God,” she exclaims, taking a deep breath.

“Come on, you know that -”

“If you bring up Daehyun one more time -”

She’s interrupted by the door to the apartment thudding open. A couple of people spill out, loud and drunk. Sooah turns back to him.

“Alright. I’m done.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. Because I can’t have this conversation one more time, Jimin.” She shakes her head. “I’m going back inside.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Jimin watches her walk back inside, steps quick and steady, despite how much she’s drunk all night. Just as she enters, two people pass her by. Jimin realises with a start that it’s Hoseok and Chaeyoung.

“- only came here to criticise me!” Chaeyoung’s voice is loud and shrill compared to Sooah’s low one.

“If you think this is criticising, then you’re missing the point,” says Hoseok loftily, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t want you to kill yourself, okay? Sorry for being the only adult around here,” he mutters, striding down the hallway towards Jimin.

“Oh, please,” she snaps, scoffing. “You’re just programmed to find something wrong with everything I do.”

“And you’re just programmed to be a brat!”

“Great! Now you sound like my dad. Why don’t you call him and have drinks over it?”

“Seriously? I’m looking out for you because you’re my best friend’s sister,” he points out, turning around to face her. “I didn’t have to spend my Saturday night with Fire and Ice, you know?”

“Oh, because she has red hair? Clever.” Chaeyoung crosses her arms across her chest. “And you know what? Your best friend,” she continues, “doesn’t give a shit, alright? He knows I’m not twelve anymore. If he doesn’t care, why do you?”

“I - I don’t!” Hoseok sputters, going red in the face. “You know what? Fine. Hang out with that Ice and his group of Neanderthals - I don’t even care.”

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “Now you sound like the Hoseok I grew up with!” With one last glare, she turns around and stalks back into the house exactly the way Sooah had a few minutes ago.

Hoseok stands motionless for a moment before turning to face Jimin, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Jimin shakes his head, lost for words. “I have no fucking idea,” he mutters. “Do you want to call Suga hyung or should I?”

—

The doorbell rings and startles Namjoon, who spills a couple of drops of milk on his t-shirt.

“Damn it,” he mutters, dropping his spoon back into the bowl of cereal and holding the t-shirt away from his chest. “Can you get that?” he asks Jungkook, who’s sitting across from him at the breakfast table.

Jungkook nods and heads towards the door as Namjoon disappears into his room, opening it to see someone he hasn’t in a while.

“Sooah?” He chuckles in mild disbelief. “Um - hey, noona. Didn’t expect to see you… here.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says lightly, biting her lip. “Is Jimin here?”

Jungkook’s pause before he nods tells her that he knows something happened last night. “Come on in. He was pretty drunk last night so he went straight to bed,” he adds, shutting the door behind her and beckoning her inside. “I’ll just get him.”

Sooah nods as he shuffles inside, hearing a door open and him softly calling Jimin hyung. “He’ll be right out,” he says generously, coming back out from the hallway and going back to the kitchen table. A minute later, Jimin emerges from the same direction, his hair messy and eyes still a little droopy. He doesn’t look wholly surprised to see her.

“Morning,” she says after a moment. “How’d you sleep?”

“Crap.” He gives her a quick once-over. “Are you hungover?”

“Not in the least. You?”

He shakes his head, frowning a little at the movement. “Nope. Not at all.”

“Right.” Sooah falls silent, glancing surreptitiously at Jungkook as he scarfs down his breakfast. Jimin copies her, and they stare at him until he looks up from his phone.

“What?” he asks through a mouthful of cornflakes.

“Hey, Jungkook,” she begins. “Um, do you mind if…” She trails off, biting her lip when Jungkook simply frowns.

“Leave us alone for a minute?” Jimin prompts, and Jungkook immediately nods.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Right.” He climbs off the chair, gathering his bowl, a plate of toast and a bowl of ready-to-eat kimchi, with his phone piled on top of the bread. “I’ll just… finish inside,” he mumbles, balancing everything and precariously walking inside.

Jimin turns back to face her again. “So… what’s up?” He frowns as she throws something to him, catching it easily. “Hangover pills?” he reads off the label. “I told you, I’m not hungover.”

Sooah shrugs. “Just keep it. For some other time.”

“Okay,” he says, slipping it into the pocket of his track pants. “Thanks. Was that it?”

Without his hair styled and his expensive clothes, he looks… young. His cherubic face, even with a straight expression and tired eyes, stirs an old, innocent adoration in her.

“I wanted to talk about last night,” she says. “Sober.”

Jimin shakes his head. “We don’t have to. I was - I was a bit of a dick, I know.”

“Yeah… but so was I.” Sooah’s eyes flicker to the floor. “I got defensive when you were picking on Alex and… I may have said some stuff I didn’t mean to.”

He nods slowly. “Guess I didn’t know what it’s like on the other side,” he says, cracking a half-smile. “I’m sorry if I… did I get you in trouble? When he found out that we used to…” He gestures between the two of them.

“No, you didn’t. He was a little surprised, yeah, but… kind of impressed?” She shrugs. “He really looks up to you.”

“That’s nice of him, I guess. He seems like a good kid.”

She chuckles. “He’s not that much younger.”

“No?”

When he doesn’t say anything further, Sooah sighs. “Jimin… I didn’t mean to say all that stuff last night.”

“No, you were right. Current boyfriend trumps ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, swallowing. “You weren’t the only one thinking it.”

“No, Jimin, that’s not true. Okay, fine, it’s true if I have to choose between them,” she amends, rolling her eyes. “In that case, I’m forced to choose my boyfriend over my ex.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“So don’t make me choose.” Just as she’d expected, Jimin’s shoulders relax, as though he hadn’t considered this. “Jimin, you are my ex but you don’t have to be just that for the rest of our lives. Come on, we’ve been broken up for longer than we were together - isn’t it time we actually became friends?”

“Friends?” He says it like it’s a foreign word. “I - Sooah, I get what you’re going for, I really do, but…” He takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself to say something. “I don’t know how we’ll do as friends, honestly.”

“Why? I can be a good friend,” she says, a little defensively. “I had a pretty good circle of friends, you know?”

Jimin chuckles. “No offense, but that is not a group I want to join. Come on, you’re talking about your high school friends, right? Sooah, they were awful,” he confesses, shaking his head. “Those girls didn’t have a shred of loyalty - they’d sell their mothers for gossip. And those guys you hung out with?” He exhales in disgust. “They weren’t friends. They were complete jerks and they just wanted to get with whichever girl would give in first.”

There’s a moment while Sooah processes this. “Right,” she says. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says immediately, the regret audible.

“I know you didn’t,” she assures him. “I know, Jimin, because you’re a good guy. You were the best person I knew,” she admits, hoping he believes her. “That’s why I fell for you, and not any of those other jerks.”

Jimin says nothing, his eyes falling to the floor.

“You still are one of the best people I know,” she adds after a moment. “And I don’t want you to just disappear from my life because I’m dating someone. I’d rather have you as my friend than this - this guy from my past I hook up with a couple times a year.”

When Jimin still doesn’t respond, she sighs.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m still your friend.” Sooah stares at him, hoping for something, anything. “Bye, then.”

“You really think it’ll work?”

“Yeah, I do. We get along pretty well, in case you haven’t noticed. We can try at least,” she adds when he continues looking doubtful.

“You’re sure you won’t fall in love with me?” he asks seriously.

Sooah stares before snorting. “Jesus, Chim,” she says admonishingly as he bursts into giggles, “don’t say whatever pops into your head.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re dating another idol now. Probably not a big deal for you,” he allows.

“It wasn’t a big deal when I was dating the first idol either.”

“Not even with his abs?”

“I preferred his calculus notes over his abs.”

Jimin makes a face. “Some friend.”

Sooah smiles back. There’s still something resembling hesitance in his expression, but she hopes it’s temporary. It’s unchartered territory for both of them, but a necessary change. She suspects it was what scared Jimin last night in the first place.

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I just came to…”

“Ask for my forgiveness?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

Jimin grins, and she breathes a silent sigh of relief. He walks her to the door and for the first time in a long time, Sooah looks forward to their common future.

“By the way,” he asks, just as she’s stepping out, “you - you don’t actually think that I cheated on you. Right? When we broke up?” he clarifies.

Sooah frowns. “Um… no. Why - oh, the game? Last night?”

Jimin nods, his lips pursed. “You drank.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She shakes her head and pats his arm comfortingly. “That wasn’t about you. Like you said,” she adds with a half-chuckle, “most of them were jerks.”

—

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