#based on vibes which one should i do

[x-enocyon]

new ldb in the works

[gifti3]

the goverment is definitely figuring out this alien situation asap right?? cause whats happening currently is not feasible in the long run is it not??

im sure they are trying to maybe figure it out...probably, but part of me feels like it is not being treated with the seriousness it should be by them, which ig is in character LOL

pretty much relying on one guy (who doesnt even wanna be doing this) is actually scary

and the mc still has to like 'encourage' him to do it, tho its much easier in the 'ray ending' for sure. that man just wants to live a regular life with mc (unfortunately for him that means continuing to be binary star and dealing with aliens)

and if i was a citizen and knew this id be panicking

like yea u have these other heroes helping and stuff which im sure looks comforting from an outside point of view! but like the actuality is that its ray keeping things afloat

AND ON THE TOPIC OF THE MC, i was definitely in my head like....wouldnt rays superiors (managers??) get like curious about them? like no way theyre not being nosy about it after a certain amount of time passes. it really feels like something that could be leveraged against him,,, (if there is fic about this pls send it to me lol)

honestly i feel like mc and rays relationship would have moments of high stress. like there will be good times but also the bad times will also be there and its sometimes gonna be because of outside factors they cant control

[softness-and-shattering]

.

[quatregats]

hello Please Please do tell us about your 'the famous flower of serving men' story for the aubreyad (judging by the folk song alone I am intrigued!!)

...also I am of course interested in hornblower the tank engine.

The Famous Flower of Serving Men Aubreyad Crossover is entirely the fault of me getting brainworms about that song and then making it about my blorbos even though it is patently Not About That. It's somewhat of a fantasy AU and it is considerably less Bleak and Bloody than the song, which for those who are unfamiliar is about a pretty awful situation (warning: it is 10 minutes long and will put you into a trance despite being Bleak and Bloody), but otherwise it has a lot of what it says on the tin. Also I wrote it while reading Canigó so some of that might have seeped in. Here is a snippet:

One day in the early fall, the king was preparing for a hunting trip. The kingdom was at peace: the harvest had been bountiful and the people were content. The borderlands to the south were full of thick forests and fine game, and the king longed for a ride through the fresh air of the mountains before winter set in and confined him to his halls. “I’ll be back in a fortnight,” he said. “And I’ll leave the house to you—I hope you’ll keep it in good order.” His friend’s face looked oddly drawn and tight. “I will keep it in as good an order as I have every day, and I do not need your prying eye to help me,” he bit back. “It will only be a fortnight,” the king said, unsure of the source of this sudden displeasure. “And I will tell you of all the birds and beetles and snakes when I return.” “Sure, and I will be happy to hear of them,” the man agreed, but the unhappy look did not disappear from his face even as the king rode away the next morning at dawn.

And, well, for your interest in Hornblower the Tank Engine, I will provide you with a Rev. W Audry-style beginning-of-book letter, since I have almost finished writing this lad and will try to publish it soon-ish:

Dear Reader, Some of you have been asking about a little tank engine named Hornblower, who has been very hard at work on the Indefatigable Branch Line as of late. Some of you might have heard of his adventures with Exploding Bridges or Plague-Ridden Cattle. Not many people, though, know about his time at the dockyards, and about how he went up against a very dangerous engine and nearly won. He told me that story last September, and his Controller thinks that he has been such a Useful Engine as of late that I should tell it in a Book. We both agreed that he was Very Brave, and we think that it is high time other people thought that too. We hope you enjoy his story. Sincerely, The Author

[saltyfilmmajor]

Takes 4 hours to watch a 2 hour film because I keep pausing to talk about localization quirks

[wordiestwyrm]

people should start inventing their own numerologies and comparing notes. slash s r s

[jerichomere]

Oh great. One of my professors is brand new.

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[gifti3]

i need to make an angel that absolutely despises A

[pisceantarot]

⋆ ｡  𐀔  ° ‧     what type of celebrity would you be?

PICK A GIF AND DISCOVER... why do your fans admire you? what makes your energy so captivating? would there be any scandals? 🤭 a fun reading to see what type of celebrity you'd be!

                      ꕤ * ．   pile one.           →           ꕤ * ． pile two.

                      ꕤ * ． pile three.           →           ꕤ * ． pile four.

relax your body, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. ask yourself: "which pile has a message for me today?" when you open your eyes, what image did your eyes fall on? what image do you feel most drawn to energetically? that's your pile!

this reading is timeless! it will cross your path whenever it's meant to find you 🍀 this reading was made with the purpose of giving you a confidence boost! perhaps this energy will inspire you to channel your inner star 💫 you deserve to be seen and admired, that's for sure!

PILE # 01 : JENNIE

you walk into a room and people just sense your stardom. you command respect, but not in an imposing way. no, you do so quietly (from a place of utter self-love and self-respect) and people admire you even more for this! you're quite smart, you play the game well. i see that you can be very strategic and easily sense people's intentions with you. this is your gift! your intuition will always lead you down the road of success. you'd have an unshakeable sense of self, yet are always ready to evolve and be ahead of the curve. no one would do it like you, that's for sure! (i'm hearing that you don't even play the game, you make the rules. definitely it-girl/a-lister vibes!!)

you have the energy of someone who'd be a great influencer! you're a trendsetter, you'd wear/promote something and the following week 50 micro-influencers are wearing the exact same outfit. people would have pinterest boards filled with your pictures!! i'm hearing that you could sell scraps of paper and people would still fight for it just because your name is associate with it... your fans would be very passionate about you, writing essays in the comments defending you 😭 but i also see that you'd be the type of celebrity that people just know. if you were a singer, for example, even if people didn't know your songs they would still recognise your beautiful face<3

it's very lonely at the top, though. i'm sensing this pile might be a little bit more sensitive, and it makes me feel very protective over you 😭 it's funny because i see this pile being disillusioned by fame very quickly. you'd hate the backstabbing, the hit pieces, the superficialness of those around you (despite loving your craft). there could be fears of being misunderstood, the pressure of perfectionism weighing heavy on you... you're born to be a star, but the way everyone wants a piece of you doesn't feel quite right...

channeled message based off of this energy:

spirit wants you to know that you can be your authentic self. your voice and words will resonate with so many people!! if you want to be a content creator of any type (or if you want to create/become an artist), i see that your path to fame won't be paved by anyone else before you. no, your path is unique. you should follow your own intuition when it comes to your career and do what feels most aligned, because no class or mentor will provide you with any meaningful answers 😭 while this path might appear isolating and frustrating, make sure not to drown yourself in loneliness. don't compare yourself to others when you're meant to be on a whole different level! just focus on your own projects and development, and things will align the way they're meant to be!

PILE # 02 : SABRINA

oh, you're so incredibly charming<33 you smile and people just fall at your feet! they can't help but feel giddy and swoon at even a fraction of your attention... the power you hold, pile 2! you're a force to be reckoned with, i heard this very clearly... as a celebrity i see you being very determined to succeed. you have your eyes set on the prize and you refuse to back down. you're the type who built themselves from the ground up, and this is something to be proud of! your hard work paid off and everything you earned would be rightfully deserved.

people might have the tendency to underestimate you, though. they look at you and think you're harmless... but then you go and prove them wrong by blowing them away with your talent... you made them look like a damn fool for ever doubting you, that's for sure 😔</3 i love the energy of an underdog here, it makes people want to root for you!! when people first look at you, they might not expect you to be as talented as you are. so when you finally show them what you're made of, they're just absolutely dumbfounded that they didn't notice you earlier. i see you playing into this misconception and using it to your advantage, though! i just heard elle woods say: "what, like it's hard?" loveeee this

your fans would absolutely adore you, fanservice would be something that's very natural to you! i don't see you hating this either, you really enjoy casual interactions with people who support you. you'd be a very grounded celebrity, too!! you don't let the fame or the money get to your head, because you know where you started and how long it took you to get to the top. you don't lose yourself in the chaos or the hate or any fears... quite the opposite, actually!! you use it as an opportunity to get even stronger and wiser! love this attitude<3

channeled message based off of this energy:

this pile is very lucky because i'm seeing many (unexpected) blessings heading your way! your next era in life? sitting back comfortably while you watch your heart's desires unfold in front of you. i see a big manifestation coming in, your hard work finally paying off!! very abundant energy, i'm very excited for you<3 spirit wants you to know that you've earned these blessings, that you've come a long way from where you were before. this period of your life is really about thriving rather than surviving. very beautiful energy!! (i also heard that, if you're facing any issues, that they will resolve themselves. just trust your guides and watch how your problems disappear into thin air!)

PILE # 03 : LILY-ROSE

ohhh, you'd definitely be an enigma! people will love this about you, but it will also frustrate them. you have strong boundaries about what the public is allowed to know about you. (i'm sensing vibes of not having any big social media presence, being annoyed at interviewers when they ask intrusive questions about your personal life rather than the project you worked so hard on, no one knowing who you're dating, etc...) yet you're always invited (having front row seats, mind you) to all the big events. (your fans might receive scraps from you but... if they do get something, they absolutely devour it!! even in 2025 they wouldn't be able to shut up about that beautiful haute couture dress you wore in 2021 😭)

there's a sense of intrigue and mystery surrounding you, because no one knows a thing about you yet everyone is always captivated by you. i'm sensing siren/dark feminine type of energy. very seductive! you teasingly play things off with a shrug and a million dollar smile like "wouldn't you like to know?" you'll never reveal yourself to them because 1.) you loooove being seen as a mystery 2.) you find it absolutely hilarious to keep people guessing and 3.) they don't deserve this type of access to you.

people never know your next move and this is your power. i see people really admiring your talent (and knowledge)! you're the authentic celebrity where you're in it for the love of the art rather than the fame and the fortune (even if it's a nice bonus!). you're the type of celebrity that studies the history of whatever field you're in and are well versed in different genres, admiring and respecting many great figures who came before you. you don't care about what people think of you as long as you are satisfied with the outcome of your project. this is very mature and attractive energy!

channeled message based off of this energy:

you're hard to read, i won't lie to you 😭 if you've been working on setting boundaries i really see that this is something incredibly beneficial. you're comfortable in your own energy, and this is very seductive! if you have the tendency to be overly critical of yourself, i'm hearing spirit say that you might need to be less demanding and kinder towards your body. you have a tough outer shell, i don't think you're the type to easily open up to people. this is a good thing! just make sure that you aren't pushing people out who mean well. you can be vulnerable with the right people and have it be a safe experience!! you deserve to be taken care of (i'm feeling like i just want to pamper you) and experience the softness of life!!

PILE # 04 : SHAY

you'd definitely be your celebrity's favourite celebrity! you move in silence, but once you make a sound... boy, people are ready to drop everything in order to pay attention and listen! your fame isn't bombastic or over-the-top. it doesn't need to be, because people respect you. you command respect through your raw authenticity. you're not a manufactured doll who needs to put on a whole spiel in order to appear interesting. you don't need to do this because your talent speaks for itself. this is very potent energy!

what i'm picturing is a musician standing on stage with only a microphone and a guitar. you don't need a big show or any grand gestures to capture people's attention, they're willing to give it to you just because you're you. you might have striking features, i'm sensing there's a beauty about you that's just sooooo mesmerising. (i'm feeling like i want to get lost in your eyes... feeling a bit shy...)

people would absolutely root for you (i'm sensing the vibe of people being absolutely outraged if you happen to lose a grammy or an oscar or whatever prestigious award 😭 and it's not just your fandom, several different fandoms would be banding together to express their anger). this is simply because they know you're the best of the best. you worked hard for everything you achieved, you don't need scandals to keep your name relevant, and you always show up! this is what people love most about you, the fact that you always show up at the top of your game without any complaints<33 you paved the way for everyone behind you, too!

channeled message based off of this energy:

god, i wouldn't be surprised if this pile went through hell and back. i really see you coming back stronger every time something (or someone) tries to bring you down. nothing fazes you anymore, you just take it on the chin and move on. spirit is telling me that difficult times are about to end soon!! you will find peace and you will find comfort within yourself (and your environment). i'm hearing so clearly that you always got your own back, but spirit wants you to know that they got your back as well! you're born to succeed simply because of who you are. once you truly embody what you know you deserve, i see so many opportunities bringing you great abundance!! know that you don't have to fight so hard to get what you want, practice being in a state of receiving rather than chasing<33

[cj-the-random-artist]

I let them get friendship married so Narinder can get his tax benefits lol

But legitimately. I mulled this one over repeatedly for literal months. Like. Do I want them to get married in front of the cult? Should they even get married? It would be hilarious if the Goat married them and then cried at the altar the whole time, but also... that doesn't feel right, so maybe I won't do that. And then once I decided it should be a personal friendship-marriage ritual where it's just the pair of them making vows to each other, I wrote four different scripts and hated them all and ended up just pulling this one out of thin air pretty much on the spot and that was that. At one point, I wanted Lambert to basically suggest this idea and then have them get friend-married on the spot, but that didn't feel right (and it was also gonna be unreasonably long) so that's why there's no context going into this one. And the actual friend-marriage ritual is... maybe not the best designed one ever? I wanted it to in some ways be similar to like, the way I imagine a romantic marriage happening in the cult- the parties exchange vows and do rings and stuff...? (If it's not obvious, I haven't been to many weddings...) But I figured they wouldn't want an audience, or to party with the whole cult afterwards, or anything like that. I also had them kiss each other's rings as opposed to like... faces... because one of the fights I had with myself in deciding how I would want this to go was whether it would make sense for them to kiss or not. And I ultimately decided that in this AU at least they just wouldn't want to. They're also wearing the rings on their not ring fingers cuz. Honestly it just felt right that way. Based on vibes. But basically I just wanted them to exchange a vow of eternal partnership in a very casual, chill setting, because I don't picture QPR AU Narilamb doing... anything other than that.

Also this is the rest of Lambert's office, which I actually had a pretty clear vision for after my last doodle but I didn't really bother to draw before starting this comic. Maybe I should've but eh it looks good enough. Interior backgrounds are hard......

Anyways. I think I'm happy with this one? I was enamored by the concept of a chill friendship marriage, so I definitely leaned into it here. As per usual, it's not perfect, I think I could've done a lot of stuff better / differently, but honestly?? If I were to ever get friend-married I would want it to go about like this, it makes my little aroace heart happy, and I spent too long on it to not show it to anybody. Thus. Enjoy, and also happy new year cuz I totally forgot to make a post individually about that...

[fragranticareviewers]

As someone who doesn't know a thing about perfumes, reading what you have to say about them is so unbelievably cool!

If I may ask something, what would a magical girl use, but not the pink main one, maybe the orange/yellow one?

ive been sitting with this for a little bit rotating it in my head... this will be a long one

so im putting my answers into two different categories:

one is for the Orange Magical Girl Archetype, which is how i was thinking of the first one. in my head, the orange ones are usually sporty, energetic, and have a sun or fire theme going on, while still maintaining a lot of that youthful sparkly fun vibe. (i also personally associate them with citrus, because, well, orange) so i was thinking of that. this will be my first category of answers.

olympea solar by rabanne - yummy! white florals and mandarin orange.

h&m sunray - golden warmth by h&m - straight up smells like summer. sunscreen, coconut, slightly floral?

orange ice cream by colornoise - i have no idea if this one is good or not to be honest. but it looks like it should fit. i trust it. i believe in it.

dr. botica poção da criatividade by o boticário - ok pause. i have never seen this mentioned before by anyone and found it by accident. what is this. this is ridiculously cute. how do i get my hands on it? the bottle is so cute! it has a star for god's sake

sundrunk by imaginary authors - "oh noo it's so linear" "it doesn't smell like a city on fire or bull's blood" i don't care. smells like artificial orange flavoring followed by neroli. yummy

...so this was my first thought.

then i started thinking: what about the actual orange magical girls from things i've watched? what do i associate with them?

and then i realized: WHERE ARE ALL THE ORANGE MAGICAL GIRLS?? i can think of, like, 5 total! all of them have completely different personalities! everyone's always like "ohh toei hates making green magical girls, we're starving, please feed us more green magical girls please" as if there is not currently a CRISIS of MAGICAL GIRLS WHO WEAR ORANGE in their series even greater than this...

with that said: the 5 magical girls i can think of who are primarily orange all have completely different associations for me, so i figured it'd be fun to pick a perfume or two for each of them.

cure soleil from star twinkle precure - i think they technically classify her as yellow so she might not even count. that's stupid. she's orange. being blonde does not change the color of her outfit.

for her, i pick aqua allegoria nettare di sole by guerlain. it has solar notes, which are critical for her IMO, along with beautiful white florals, which i think matches with her association with flowers.

hazuki from ojamajo doremi - ah, i'm struggling with this a bit.. she's very shy, naive, and studious, with an interest in things like violin and ballet. i was hoping i could find something with maybe a light varnish accord, but no luck. instead, i looked for things with an old book/paper smell without being overly dark or old, and i'm stuck between these 2...

gion by fantome - powdery rose tea with honey and books. light and cute.

morning room by solstice scents - you thought i was gonna do a recommendation post without mentioning solstice scents huh? huh?? *beats you up* this is another powdery and light floral, this time mostly based on violet instead of rose. and, of course, there's a paper note in here.

cure sunny from smile precure - i'm realizing that, in my head, she is the prototypical orange magical girl. i may be biased because she's also my favorite. i want to find something that evokes fire without being overly smoky or autumnal.

beach bonfire by alchemic muse - a firey gourmand with a little bit of nice sandalwood and amber, nice!

fire opal (orange 2; natural) by dsh perfumes - planning on getting a sample of this. bitter orange that people are complaining is "too masculine"

sailor venus from sailor moon - oh god. is she orange? anyways, i think i'd associate her with like, makeup accords, like the way lipstick smells. but fun and silly. it'd be cool if i could find a light and fun fragrance with a hot iron accord because she has a chain attack and all that, but no such thing seems to exist

iris crush by jimmy choo - powdery floral lipstick. yay!

nagisa momoe from puella magi madoka magica - is this even a question?

cheesecake by arcana wildcraft.

anyways, to be transparent, a lot of the time i don't answer fandom/character requests because it's always things i've never watched/read/played/etc. before. but mahou shoujo... well i've heard of it

[thefudge]

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

[shinysobi]

ecobrutalism (kim mingyu)

because drafting tables are not meant to be anything more than a decoration.

☆ annoyances to lovers: architect!mingyu x therapist!reader ☆ wc: 5k ☆ genres: non-idol au, annoyances to lovers, office setting? romance, fluff, comedy, no angst (this is a first for me) vibes based on second wind ☆ regular warnings apply; mingyu is both delusional and dramatic, jihoon is tired. ☆ notes: tiya was one of my first mutuals here on tumblr, and she's always been one of the people i can count on to listen to my yapping and not think of me as a strange person (is this weird? i dont think so) but our birthdays are only one day apart, and so, because i can't send a gift from so far away, here's my gift, a small mingyu fic that i hope will bring a smile to your face. happy birthday, @gyubakeries, i hope i know you for a very long time <3 thank you to alta @haologram for making the banner at my speedy request, and @mylovesstuffs for betaing this (if there are errors, there aren't.) masterlist

“She’s insane,” Mingyu mutters, holding on to a pamphlet, “she’s insane, and she’s going to make me insane too.”

“She’s not insane,” Jihoon mutters, sipping his tea, “she’s just a therapist. You’re projecting.”

“I’m not,” Mingyu mutters, “she’s the one who’s arguing about stupid rules in the building code that doesn’t even make any sense. I mean, who brings a folder with color-coded tabs to every meeting? Why does she have opinions on how we should build and decorate, for every shop in the building? No one even makes use of these codes in today’s day, they’re virtually obsolete.”

“So, object to them,” Jihoon shrugs, “you’re good at that, right?”

“I’m not, actually,” Mingyu groans, “I’m not even good at ignoring her. It’s making me anxious and irritable. To the extent that it’s affecting how I behave with my clients.”

“Your clients, meaning the old ladies who come here to ogle you and then force their husbands to get their shops redesigned by you?” Jihoon arches a brow, “I hardly doubt those count as actual clients, Kim Mingyu. You’ve got admirers here.”

“They bring money so yes, they’re my clients,” Mingyu snaps, “and you’re one to talk, hyung. Didn’t I catch you yesterday, buying random books from the bookstore? You don’t even read post-war Japanese crime fiction, for heaven’s sake. You were trying to get with the bookstore owner, weren’t you? You even composed a song for her, don’t even think about denying it.”

Jihoon colors, “none of your business, Mingyu.”

“None of your business, Mingyu,” Mingyu taunts, “anyway, help me out with this woman. She continues to get on my nerves at every possible opportunity, and I don’t know how long I can hold on before I inevitably lose my shit and kill her or something like that.”

“Not long for that,” Jihoon muses. 

“Shut up, and try and help me.”

Jihoon sighs. He’s been tolerating Mingyu’s antics since the past year when the younger man decided to open his shiny new office in their dilapidated shopping centre, and while his perfect visuals have helped in footfall, it also means Jihoon has to take care of Mingyu and his tantrums on a semi-regular basis. Semi-regular now that he’s managed to find himself a sworn enemy. It’s not even a big deal, Jihoon does not understand why he keeps swearing to high heavens that he hates her guts. 

“She doesn’t seem so bad,” Jihoon says, trying to get Mingyu to calm down to a certain degree, “you don’t even typically get this angry, do you?”

“I don’t,” Mingyu shakes his head, “imagine how royally annoying she has to be, to get me this mad.”

“Huh,” Jihoon turns it over in his head a few times, “are you sure it’s not just a random one-time thing? She’s not proposing bad things as such, she’s just telling us to be more aware of the city’s building rules and regulations. Something which I thought you would have been a stickler for, given how you are the architect here, not her.”

“I do care about building rules and regulations,” Mingyu seethes, “I’m just not a bloody fanatic about it.”

“Ah, so that’s the problem,” Jihoon shrugs, “anyway, sort this shit out amongst yourselves, all this is seriously cramping my rizz.”

“Your rizz?” Mingyu scoffs, “hah! You’re just going to spend all your money at the bookstore, aren’t you? You’ve got no rizz to speak of.”

“Speak nicely to your elders, you little shit.”

“I’ll speak nicely to you when you actually show me proof of your rizz that goes beyond stupid yearning from a distance,” Mingyu taunts, “wait, have you even talked to her? Or are you just planning to stare at her and creep her out? You know that’s not how anyone asks someone out, right?”

“Shut up,” jihoon ‘s looking intently at the door, “I’m actually trying to get her to go on a date with me.”

“And have these thoughts found any other home outside of your mind, Lee Jihoon?”

“You know she’s friends with the therapist you keep yelling at during the meetings,” Jihoon groans, “until you stop fighting with her friend, she’s not even going to look at me or give me the time of day. Now make up amongst yourselves and for once, let me go on a fucking date.”

He leaves to go back to his regular yearning duties, and Mingyu is left seated in his chair, pondering over two things; the current state of his finances, which would absolutely not withstand the onslaught of a renovation putting it to date with the city’s newest regulations, and Jihoon’s love life.

—

“Why the fuck won’t he just comply with whatever I’m asking?” you yell, throwing up your hands, “it’s the city’s regulations, stuff that he should be familiar with, given that he’s an architect, for heaven's sake, not me! Why the hell am I the person telling him things?”

“Maybe it’s because you can be a bit annoying about these things,” the bookstore owner, your only friend in this goddamn place, pipes up from behind her stack of books, “maybe if you weren’t so pushy about it, he’d hate you a little less.”

“He’s just an asshole," you say, “I need to look into his architecture degree.”

“Not to that extent,” she holds up her hands, “but you can be really pushy and I think maybe, if you’re really this concerned about the building regulations, then you should come to a compromise with him before the next building committee meeting two weeks later.”

“That soon?” You groan, “oh god, he’s going to be so annoying when I approach him first, isn’t he?”

“It’s not about who’s more annoying, it’s about who is more reasonable out here,” she shrugs, “have you ever seen me pick fights I don’t need to?”

You shake your head, “god knows how you manage to do it. If it were up to me, I’d have his head on a pike outside my office.”

“And risk facing the wrath of all the neighbourhood aunties?”

“Yes, that’s the only thing he’s good at,” you seethe, “he’s basically eye-candy for all the neighborhood aunties. Why the hell is he on the neighbourhood watch? He didn’t even live here until a few years ago!”

“Neither did you.”

“I did! I moved back!”

“Look, the point is that you need to make amends with him,” your friend reasons, “or else living in this shopping complex will be difficult for you. People actually like him a lot more than you think they do, which is why it will not be difficult for them to get you out of  here.”

“Out of here?” you shriek, “what do you mean out of here? They can’t do that to me, not legally at least.”

“They can make your life a hundred times more difficult than it already is, which will make it worse for you to run a business,” she replies, strangely calm, “I’ve been here far longer than you have. Being likeable is currency. They want someone likeable, not someone who sticks to the rules and makes everyone more annoyed than they already are.”

“Ugh, I knew I was right about him the moment I met him,” you mutter, and your friend frowns. 

“You really did have a poor choice of words back then.”

You shake your head, ignoring the jibe, “So, I need to be nice with him.”

“Precisely.”

—

Mingyu is trying to be nice, he really is. Jihoon has been blowing up his phone, asking him to fix things so he can go back to creepily stalking the bookstore owner, but he’s a good friend, so he’s going to be nice. 

Which is what he’s been telling himself since the moment he stepped foot into the clinic run by that woman. Happiness Clinic, he repeats, looking at the sign on the wall, how stupid. 

“Kim Mingyu,” you say, surprised to see him walking through your doors in the middle of the day, “strange to see you here.”

“No business?” he asks, offhandedly, making a motion at the empty waiting area. 

“I have a consultation in half an hour,” you reply, “what do you want?”

Mingyu sighs. He’s really not looking for an argument, but your attitude is not helping his current goal. “Look,” he says, after a whole minute, “about the newest resolutions, can we at least work it out? Most of the residents don’t want to upend their entire businesses to make sure their stores are up to code.”

“Yes, but shouldn’t they be making sure they’re not violating code?” she argues, “and you of all people should be making sure they’re not being fined by the city officials. You’re an architect. I’m just a random therapist.”

“You’re not a random therapist,” Mingyu argues, before taking a deep breath, “even the city officials generally give the store owners a window of time within which they have to comply with regulations. At least give them more than a week.”

“Fine,” she snaps, “just so you know, I’m not doing this as a favour to you. I’m doing this as a favour to my friend.”

“The bookstore owner?”

“Yes, the bookstore owner,” The sarcasm is not lost on him, “she’s the one who told me I have to at least make sure the residents don’t hate my guts.”

“See, she’s got it down,” Mingyu suddenly feels a bout of gratitude towards the bookstore owner, whose name he still is not familiar with, but he’s going to give her a basket of flowers the next day. “You need to compromise to some degree, to be able to cohabitate. Life is all about cohabitation and compromise, you know.”

“Yes, yes,” she makes a face, “fine, I’ll tone down the arguing. They can make their arrangements taking as long as they want. When the city officials come knocking on their doors, don’t say I did not warn you.”

“Noted, doctor.” he gives her a mock salute, before turning to leave the same way that he came. You groan, before making a rude gesture, which Mingyu catches. He just laughs, before walking away. Cute. 

—

“Hyung,” Mingyu has been running for an hour, he thinks, knocking on Jihoon’s door, until the older man opens up, angry expression on his face, “why the hell did you take so long to open the door?”

“I was taking a nap, Mingyu,” Jihoon mutters, “it’s four in the afternoon, and I don’t have customers right now, so of course I was doing what any normal person does, and was taking a nap.”

“Wow, you’re such a productive member of society, hyung,” Mingyu scoffs, before opening the door wide open, “okay, I need your help with something.”

“I don’t have money.”

“It’s not—why does everything have to be about money?”

“We live in a capitalistic society, Kim Mingyu-ssi, of course everything is about money.”

“Ugh fine, but this one is not,” he waves a hand, “I think I’m going crazy.”

“And it took you this long to figure out?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow, “wow, you really are a genius, as they say.”

“This is not a time to make fun of me, hyung,” Mingyu wails, which, in retrospect, is not the best look on a grown adult man, “how did you even know you liked the bookstore owner?”

“She has a name, you idiot,” Jihoon swats the back of his head, “and no, why would I tell you?”

“Just help me out once, please,” Mingyu wails again, “I’m seriously never going to ask you for help again if you help me out here.”

“Fine,” Jihoon is not entirely convinced with his declaration, but he sits down at the counter anyway, “what seems to be your problem?”

Mingyu takes a deep breath, “I think I like her.”

Jihoon scowls, “like who? There are eight billion people in the world, you have to be specific here.”

“The therapist!” Mingyu throws up his hands, pacing around the shop, “I seriously think I like her or something like that. I’m going crazy here, just help me out once.”

“Might I suggest a psychiatric hospital?”

“Hyung.” 

“What do you expect me to say?” Jihoon makes a vague gesture with his hands, “until yesterday, you were vowing to kill her with your bare hands or something like that. Now you’re here at my door, telling me you like her. I’m not the only person, you ask anyone else, they’ll all say the same thing; you’ve got to check yourself into a hospital or something like that.”

“You’re not even getting the point,” Mingyu groans, “up until last night, I never even had thoughts about her in that way.”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. It reminds him of his elementary school teacher, just as terrifying, “Mingyu, what have we said about catching feelings from a sex dream?”

“It was not a sex dream!”

“So it was worse,” Jihoon leaned back into the chair, “go on.”

“I don’t know man,” Mingyu sighs, “I went to meet with her yesterday afternoon about the upcoming meeting, and she was actually nice to me.”

“You mean she did not actively argue with you?” Jihoon tries to smile, although it’s more of a grimace, “you seriously need to rethink the reasons for getting attracted to someone.”

“It’s not even like that!” Mingyu protests, “she was actually nice to me. And she didn’t even yell that much!”

“Mingyu, last week, at the committee meeting, she told you to go fuck yourself.”

“And I’m coming to that,” he holds up a hand, “she actually did flip me the bird when I was about to leave.”

Jihoon’s got an expression on his face that makes it very clear he does not understand anything Mingyu’s saying, “she flipped you off? Made the sign which tells you to go fuck yourself?”

“Yes, but there was no real malice behind it,” Mingyu waves, “that’s not the point here.”

“I think you’ve gone insane,” Jihoon sighs, “and what, she flipped you off, and you fell in love with her?”

Mingyu makes a face, “why would I fall in love? I’m not that stupid.”

“Yes, you just dreamed about her and are now yapping to me,” Jihoon mutters under his breath, “nothing stupid.”

“Anyway, last night, I literally saw her in a dream,” Mingyu explains, waving his hand about, “it was not even an explicit dream, I legitimately just dreamt of us going on a picnic. And I woke up, and kept thinking about her. Now, whenever I think about her, my heartbeat rises just slightly, not noticeable enough to be concerned, but just enough to make me stop and think, ‘oh? Do I actually think about her in my spare time?’ and it turns out, I actually am thinking of her in my spare time! I even went down to her clinic today, to make sure what I was feeling or thinking about were not just random feelings, and I saw her through the glass doors, and my heartbeat increased to 119, I’m not even kidding, hyung, look at it—”

“Mingyu!” Jihoon yells, “calm the fuck down, you’re rambling.”

“Am I?” Mingyu clutches at his hair, “I really don’t know whatI’m supposed to do, it’s so embarrassing, I want to die.”

Jihoon sighs. This is new. “Look, Mingyu,” he says, cautiously, as if approaching a spooked fawn, “are you confused or are you scared?”

“What do you mean?”

“These feelings, for her,” Jihoon shrugs, “do they confuse you, or do they scare you?”

He pauses, and then replies, “scares me. I’m terrified.”

“That’s good,” Jihoon replies, going to the small fridge in the shop and offering Mingyu a diet coke, “being scared of your feelings means you’re at least acknowledging the attraction. If you were confused about what you were feeling, I would have told you to drop it.”

“Yes, but like you said, I’ve only had about three civil interactions with her, and now I’m feeling attracted to her? Is this normal?”

“Attraction does not follow the rules of normal social behaviour, Mingyu,” Jihoon replies, feeling very much like the father of an emotional teenager, “it does not follow what we want it to do. And being attracted to someone is not a bad thing. She’s not a minor, nor does she have a boyfriend or girlfriend. You’re allowed to like her.”

Mingyu groans, before shoving his entire face into his hands, “I just feel like I’m going to mess everything up if I even try to like her. I mean, she’s never really going to give me the time of day, so why bother? Just look at it this way, hyung, if I go up to her right now, in that stupidly well-lit mental health clinic of hers, and tell her, ‘hey, I think I am attracted to you’, what do you think she’s going to do?”

Jihoon muses, “Probably take your teeth out with a punch.”

“See!” Mingyu wails, “even you know she’s going to think this is all a giant joke or a prank and that I am exactly what she thought of me in the first place.”

“And what exactly did she think of you in the first place?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow, although he’s perfectly aware of the exact words you had said. Mingyu had agonised over it for a whole hour, before deciding to just embrace the misconception and go with it. Shallow, you had called him, a shallow man with no sense of right and wrong. “And you’re sure if you go ahead and tell her you’re attracted to her, to a certain degree, she’s going to label you as a shallow person?”

Mingyu nods. 

“She does not seem like the person to do that,” Jihoon says, “and if she really does do that, then I’ll tell you to just forget about her, because that does not seem like the characteristics of a good person.”

“So, what do I do right now, hyung?” Mingyu asks. 

“For starters, go to your office, and leave me the fuck alone,” Jihoon shrugs, “and in the evening, just go over to her office with a cake or something, and ask her to work with you on which regulations the business owners should adopt in the upcoming meeting.”

“Wow, hyung, look at you go. Who would say that you’ve been single since birth?”

—

“I think I’m going to be killed.”

Your friend stares at you, seated across the table in the bookstore, two lunch boxes open in front of you both. She takes a gulp, swallowing down a large piece of kimbap, and manages to warble out a “come again?”

You sigh, “I think I’m going to be killed soon.”

“By who?” she half-yells, taking a swig from her water bottle, “who the hell wants to kill you?”

“Kim Mingyu.” You whisper conspiratorially, and her face falls. “What?” You protest, “he’s really out to get me, you know that, right?”

“You told him that he was a shallow, self-centred man within thirty minutes of meeting him,” she replies, going back to eating, “I’m going to be surprised if he hasn’t made any attempts on your life yet.”

“You don’t get it,” you wail, “yesterday, he came to my office, asking about the committee meeting next week, and even made an appointment to draft a joint resolution that accommodates both the new regulations of the city and complies with the business owners’ demands of more time and extra funds.”

“And?” She's still not getting the point, which is making you slightly frustrated at this point, “he’s trying to make amends, and he’s actually doing something about what the larger community wants and needs, instead of yelling at everyone and annoying them in public meetings.”

“I’m going to ignore that jibe because I’ve got better things to think about,” you mutter, “he also smiled at me when I flipped him off! He smiled!”

“And you flipped him off, like a middle schooler,” she sighs, “was it a creepy smile, or was it a normal one?”

“Pretty normal, but you can’t really know with Kim Mingyu, right?” 

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s much more normal than you,” she replies, still calm in the face of your anxiety, which in other circumstances would be a good thing, but right now, it is not, “has he done anything else that would give you the impression that he intends on killing you?”

“He’s also asked me to meet him in his office this evening to discuss the joint resolution.” You say, “why the hell would he do that if he did not have nefarious intent?”

“Maybe he just wants to draft a joint resolution,” she counters, “after all, you both argued for so long last time, the committee had to disperse on their own. They even postponed the whole voting process and argument over the resolution because they wanted you to come up with a joint solution to the problem. And he’s the one who’s been making steps towards peace, not you.”

“You’re my friend. You’re supposed to be on my side, not his.”

“I am on the side of whoever makes me not attend those boring meetings,” she yawns, “the last time it ran for over an hour and half, just because you two were fighting so much. This time, please make  sure you play nice with him.”

You narrow your eyes, “Are you sure you’re saying that because you want me to be nice to Mingyu, or are you saying that because you want to flirt with the music store owner?”

“At least I have better social skills than you,” she counters, “and I’m not running out my only chances at normal socialising out with a proverbial broom.” The last part of that sentence is said in English, which goes over your head. 

“What the hell do you mean by that? Stop using complicated  English words because you’re a bookstore owner.”

She sighs, ignoring the second sentence, “the music shop owner is Lee Jihoon, and him and Kim Mingyu, yes I know you hate him, are the only people in this shopping centre who are of our age. The rest of them are all thirty years older than us. People don’t come here to have fun and open up swanky offices, they come here to retire in peace and get a sense of community.”

“I do not get the point you are trying to make.”

“The point is, if you at least tried to be friends with those two, we would have someone of our age to at least talk to. We could go on dinners, trips, ask them to set us up with their friends—”

“Hold on,” you raise a hand to stop her, who’s rattling off things to do with friends, “why do you even want to hang out with those two after work? We already see them here seven days a week, is that not enough for you?”

“No, it’s not,” she makes a face, “I cannot be fraternising solely with senior citizens, you know. I’m not old. But talking to these women, every day and every week, has made me feel like I’m some sort of ahjumma, too. Last week, I corrected a child’s posture.”

“You probably spared them some very expensive spinal surgery down the line.”

“Does not matter!” she snaps, “I don’t want to be correcting a child’s posture, I want to actually go out and have fun, after I close up my shop, instead of just sitting around my house and doing nothing!”

“You actually spend a lot of time doing inventory.”

“And you are going to go and talk to Mingyu,” she practically chases you out of the door, “and don’t even think about coming back here without fixing this mess!”

—

“There, all done,” Mingyu holds up a document, waving it around like he’s won a war, “this is the joint resolution we are proposing, right? Don’t go back on it, please.”

“Now why would I do that?” You ask. 

‘I don’t know, general issues. Maybe you’ll hate the way I dress in the meeting.”

“Do you plan on wearing something wildly inappropriate?” You ask, eyes narrowed, “then I will reconsider.”

“No!” Mingyu yelps, taking a step back, “I do not plan on wearing anything inappropriate for the meeting. In fact, I shall be the most appropriate man in the room that day.”

“That’s good. Bare minimum, but good,” you snipe, wondering how and why your friend wants you to be nice to him, given his penchant for saying the wrong things at the wrong times, “let’s get a meal next time, yeah?”

It’s a polite question, of course, one that does not require a proper answer, of course, no one expects an answer for this question, but Mingyu perks up instantly, wide grin in place, “do you want to get dinner with me right now?”

“Right now?” You check your wristwatch, it’s ten p.m already. If you were to stick to your usual schedule, you would have been at home by now, sitting in front of the television to catch up on your daily hour of peace and entertainment. But the man in front of you seems unable to take no for an answer, nor does he look like he’s someone who has been told no very often. Did no one ever reject him, you wonder, and contemplate idly how it would feel to be the first person to ever say ‘no, thank you’ to his face. 

But he’s looking at you with an open and honest expression, so you sigh, picking up your bag, “let me close up.” another day. I’ll tell him to fuck off another day. 

—

Mingyu is going insane, really. He should have left her alone, their work was done, so why bother to even hang around for another couple hours? But Jihoon’s words from earlier have kept bugging him for longer than he would care to admit. He’s even messed up a semi-important meeting and has been forced to reschedule it. Hell, he’s been so fucked up over this one little thing, he even went back to drafting plans by hand, using the same vintage drafting table he’s used exclusively as decoration. Even that failed, and he spent the rest of the evening wallowing in his misery. 

Why the hell was he looking forward to spending time with her? 

Even now, he’s aware that she doesn’t really want to get a meal with him, and he really feels bad, he does, but he’s also slightly selfish, and he wants to make sense of his own feelings, preferable in a setting separate from their usual one. Proximity breeds affection. Maybe all this is because I’ve been spending too much time in that shopping centre. 

“What’s your favorite architectural style?” She asks, picking up a piece of mushroom from their soup. 

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes, “I asked you what your favorite architectural style was. I assume you have one, since you are an architect.”

He ignores the jab, “Organic architecture, actually. All throughout university, I was obsessed with the works of Frank Lloyd Wright.”

“The architect of Jiyu Gakuen, right?” She asks, shrugging, “I had an architect as a patient. Back in Seoul City Hospital.”

He files that information for later, “yes, the architect of Jiyu Gakuen. I was so obsessed I even took a trip to see the Fallingwater house in Pennsylvania. And yes, I made several trips to see all his Japanese works.”

“What draws you to him?”

“It’s interesting, how he uses nature, not as a foil, but as a companion to human existence,” Mingyu replies, smiling slightly, “I think I fell in love when I saw pictures of the Pope-Leighey house, when I was in my first year. Honestly speaking, I don’t think I would have been an architect if it was not for—” he pauses, “are you trying to therapize me?”

She laughs, “is it that obvious?”

“You are not as slick as you think,” he laughs, “you said you moved here from Seoul.”

She sighs, “I was hoping you would not hold on to that.”

Mingyu shrugs, “if you don’t want me to, then I won’t, but if you don't mind me asking—”

“I mind, actually.”

“—why did you move to a new clinic? From Seoul City Hospital, too.”

She sighs, “look, there were personal reasons, that’s all I will say. Other than that, I just realised one day that the big hospital did not allow me to look after my patients as well as I could. So, I moved here.”

“And opened the clinic?”

“And opened a clinic.” She smiles suddenly, broad and open, and Mingyu’s smartwatch beeps; abnormal heart rate detected: 109 BPM. 

Damn, he’s fucked. 

—

She’s actually having fun. Mingyu might be out to kill her, but he’s a terrific dinner partner, to the point where she does not miss the warmth of her familiar house and her familiar sofa and the familiar tv dramas. This is concerning. 

—

“Traitor,” your friend scowls, over lunch the next afternoon, “did you get dinner with Kim Mingyu?”

“How the hell do you know that?” 

“Mingyu posted it on his instagram story,” your friend holds up her phone, where Mingyu had posted a picture of her, seated across from him in the restaurant, eating dinner. It could very well have been mistaken for a soft launch picture, if no one was aware of the facts. It should be embarrassing. 

“Huh,” you mutter, going back to organising your notes for all your patients, “I did not think he’d post a picture of me.”

Your friend narrows her eyes, observes her for a full minute, “you like him, don’t you?”

“I—what the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t even give me that act,” she scowls, and for a split second, you hesitate, thinking back on the whole evening, and whether or not it would have been embarrassing if anyone had caught you out with Mingyu, of all people, and, “answer the question.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing,” you murmur, half in disbelief. 

“What?” Your friend asks, but she’s heard it too, only asking you to repeat yourself. 

“I said it was not embarrassing!” You yell, and immediately clap your hand over your mouth. What the hell was that about?

“Knew it. Lee Jihoon owes me ten thousand won.” Your friend grins, self-satisfied, before settling back into her chair. 

“Were you actually betting on this?” You shake your head, “you’re such a traitor.”

“A traitor who will buy you coffee after work,” she grins, “happy now?”

“Ugh, I would be happier if I was not attracted to him,” you sigh, finishing your lunch, “and he was really respectful about the whole thing too, which makes it even more annoying. How can I hate him in peace when I know that he likes Frank Lloyd Wright’s work and wants to repurpose old concrete buildings into designated ‘breathing spaces’ filled with greenery? Like, that is objectively a beautiful idea.”

“Selfless, too.”

“And selfless!” You wail, “I cannot even hate him in peace. All I can do is be annoyed with myself.”

“You like those concrete buildings, don’t you?” Your friend asks after a beat, “they’re symmetrical.”

“And orderly! I like order in my life, which is why I like those buildings.”

“And he wants to turn them into ‘breathing spaces’.”

“Who the hell has heard of something so annoying?”

“It’s not a bad thing at all, you know,” she says, putting a mini sausage on your rice, as though she were comforting a small child, “not everything goes according to plan at all times. Order is well and good, but some sunshine is also good for your health.”

“I’d rather die.” You scow, “just wait, I will never even talk to Kim Mingyu ever again. Even if he shows his stupidly handsome face back in here, I am never talking to him! Never, on my life, never again—”

The door swings open, and a brightly-smiling Kim Mingyu pokes his head in, “what are you doing for dinner?”

“Nothing,” your friend says on your behalf, “she’s free after eight.”

“Great, I’ll see you for dinner, then!” He waves again, and it’s annoying, how you automatically blush, “it’s a date!”

The door closes, and your friend laughs, “should I look up architectural style names now?”

You sigh. I’m really screwed. 

[luvergirl-535]

full court distress

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.0k

c/w - weed & drinking, fluff, azzi is going thru it and paige is just trying to vibe 🥀. pure chaos. not a serious bone in my body apparently. based off one of my headcanons :)

a/n - in which paige pays the price for something she didn’t do, but kinda deserves anyway.

most mornings between them are soft, routine: azzi wakes first, then paige. azzi allows herself five minutes, no more and certainly no less, to lay with paige’s sleeping figure, holding her, admiring her, borrowing her warmth. and then she will slip out of bed to do mundane things like taking off her bonnet and tidying up and dressing. paige will wake up to the sounds of azzi bustling around, or to the feel of her hands stroking through paige’s soft hair.

so it comes as a bit of a surprise when paige wakes earlier than usual and realizes it’s because her girlfriend has been watching her sleep with a pouty expression for who knows how long.

paige blinks a few times in an attempt to un-blur the morning. “hey, weird-ass,” she says, voice thick with sleep. once her vision finally clears, she looks at azzi again. she frowns when the pout is still firmly on azzi’s face. “what happened?”

azzi’s lip juts out further. she’s typically pretty tough, not quite as soft around the edges as paige is. she’s gentle and kind and sweet, but the pouting and baby-talk are mostly reserved for special occasions. which is why her wide, misty eyes and quivering bottom lip have paige concerned. “az,” she says when azzi doesn’t reply. “c’mon, what’s up, babe?”

azzi shakes her head, and paige is a little relieved to have at least some reaction from her. still, it’s strange. paige isn’t used to prying information out of azzi—it’s usually the other way around.

bracing herself for a potentially bad start to the morning, paige shifts closer, tangling their legs under soft sheets and slinging an arm around azzi’s waist. “baby,” she says, trying to soften the sleepy roughness from her throat, “tell me what’s goin’ on, sweetheart.”

azzi shakes her head again, lip trembling aggressively enough now that she nestles into the crook of paige’s neck to hide.

“aw, nah, don’t cry,” paige coos, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s cheek to try and nudge her out of hiding. “look at me, mama, for real.”

azzi stays strictly put. “it’s nothing,” she says, voice muffled in the skin of paige’s neck.

“why you making me fight for this right now?” paige asks. it’s a valid question—usually, azzi will go to paige for comfort without needing to be prompted. even when she is more closed off, all it takes is some cuddles and a few pet names to get her talking. but paige is putting on her best soft girlfriend right now, and azzi is still being oddly stubborn.

“it’s just embarrassing,” azzi grumbles.

paige frowns. they’re far past the point of getting embarrassed around each other. “don’t gotta be embarrassed.”

there’s a beat before azzi’s quiet admission—“i don’t want to tell you.”

paige’s eyebrows furrow at this. she tilts her head back, placing both hands on azzi’s cheeks now and lifting her face up. azzi goes more willingly this time, eyes a little watery and sad and cheeks flushed pink. the sight worries paige. “are we okay?”

azzi nods.

“is it something i did?”

azzi hesitates, then shakes her head. the hesitation is odd, but not enough to completely sway paige. she trusts azzi to tell her the truth. “okay, mama,” she says, pressing a tender kiss to azzi’s forehead. “you don’t have to tell me. but you should, eventually.” she makes a face. “mostly because i’m nosey.”

that gets a small, amused smile out of azzi, which is a relief in and of itself. she lowers her head again, settling into paige’s chest. “just want you to hold me for awhile,” she mumbles.

paige hums. “i can do that.”

they end up falling back asleep, and for the moment, it’s forgotten.

❀❀❀

azzi doesn’t let it stay forgotten for long.

in fact, paige thinks she only gets another hour of sleep before she’s being nudged awake.

she grumbles, turning away from her girlfriend to bury her head into the pillow.

“paige,” azzi whispers, poking at her back.

“still early, baby,” paige grumbles. then she remembers the events from earlier on in the morning and says, “you crying again?”

“no,” azzi huffs.

paige nods, satisfied that she has no girlfriend duties to fulfill at the moment. “‘kay. lemme sleep.”

“you can go back to sleep after,” azzi says, poking her again.

“after what?” paige yawns. her monkey lesbian brain goes straight to sex, because of course it does, but also azzi was all emo just an hour ago and that’s probably not what she’s waking her up for.

“after you help me,” azzi says, sounding almost a little annoyed that paige isn’t getting it.

monkey lesbian brain conjures images of all the ways azzi might need paige’s help—like to de-stress, perhaps, or maybe she’s sore and wants a massage…

“i gotta pee,” azzi explains.

monkey lesbian brain shuts down.

“okay,” paige replies, confused. “go piss, girl.”

“it’s dark out there.”

paige cracks an eye open. yeah, it’s still dark out—maybe it’s a little earlier than she thought. still, she’s not getting it. “use your flashlight.”

“babeee-uhhh,” azzi borderline whines, which is, again, unusual for her usually poised, mature girlfriend. “it’s scary.”

and, okay, the two of them might be a little codependent. paige isn’t denying that. but for the most part, they’re pretty capable of emptying their bladders without the other present.

paige turns over, eyebrows furrowed. “you fucking w’me?”

“no,” azzi says. she’s propped up on an elbow, eyes wide and round. “just, come with me, please?”

as far as paige can tell, she has two options: argue with azzi, henceforth postponing her sleep even longer, and end up losing the argument and doing this for her girlfriend anyway, or just getting up and doing it now.

she thinks about how kk will demolish her for being a simp if she ever finds out about this, and slowly sits up.

“aight, let’s go,” she says, motioning for azzi to get moving.

azzi stands and waits until paige is up, too, before taking her by the hand, then wrapping her free hand around paige’s bicep, effectively shielding herself with paige’s arm.

paige looks down at her, sure azzi’s about to laugh at her and say ‘gotcha’, but she’s just staring wide-eyed at paige’s cracked bedroom door and the dark hallway beyond.

paige guides her out of the room, keeping her eyes half-closed in the hopes she’ll stay tired. “you’re letting me sleep after this, right?” she double-checks as they make the slow, sleepy trek through the hallway.

“uh-huh.”

“you have a nightmare or sum’?”

azzi shudders. “something like that.”

“what about?”

azzi chews on her lip, then points at the light switch outside jana’s bedroom door. “turn that on.”

“jana’s gonna kill me if we wake her up,” paige mutters.

“so jana’s more important than me now?” azzi asks, releasing paige’s hand with a dramatic little flourish, stepping back to cross her arms.

paige is much too tired and much too confused to decipher whether azzi’s messing around or being serious. “c’mon, azzi, quit it.”

it’s too dark to make out her expression—especially without contacts—but she can hear the eye roll in azzi’s scoff. “whatever. maybe you should just go back to your room. let me go alone.”

if it weren’t the middle of the fucking night, paige would probably have the energy and emotional capacity to comfort her girlfriend, despite the drama of it all. but it is, in fact, the middle of the fucking night, and it’s her second time waking at an ungodly hour, and her patience is worn thin.

“fine,” she snaps, already turning. “maybe i will.”

she doesn’t even take a full step before azzi whisper-yells, “wait!” and grabs her wrist, tugging her back. “don’t leave me. it’s dark.”

“you were being all sassy to me,” paige says. “you want me to leave, i’ll leave.”

“i was obviously not serious,” azzi hisses.

“oh, what—so you gotta attitude so i can baby you or somethin’?”

“yes, actually,” azzi mumbles. “now can we go to the bathroom?”

paige opens her mouth to argue, but stops. it’s not like azzi to so openly fish for attention, and it gives her pause. makes her think about the crying earlier. the clinginess. the sharp edges covering something softer.

maybe azzi’s picking a fight because it’s easier than admitting how vulnerable she feels. “yeah, okay. whatever.”

azzi takes hold of paige’s arm again, once again shielding her body with it as they make the rest of the way to the restroom. once they get there, azzi flips on the light—paige squints against the sudden harshness of it—and pulls paige inside before closing the door.

“ughhhhh,” paige groans, sliding down the door to sit against it, hiding her face between her knees. “it’s brighttttt.”

“stop being dramatic,” azzi says. “i turned on the lowest setting.”

“it’s still bedtime,” paige argues. “i shouldn’t be seeing any light whatsoever for at least the next five hours.”

“you’ll go back to sleep after this,” azzi waves her off. paige rubs at her eyes, squeezing them shut, but even with her knees blocking the light out a dull headache begins to form at the base of her skull. she rubs the back of her neck and looks up to find azzi sitting there, staring ahead.

“are you taking a shit?” paige asks. “because if you are, i’m leaving.”

“no,” azzi replies solemnly, “just feeling too lazy to stand up. trying to find the will.”

paige sighs. “would a countdown help?”

azzi frowns, thinks about it, then says, “sure.”

“okay. three, two…” she pauses, giving azzi time to gear up before saying, “one, go.”

azzi stands, looking quite proud of herself, and paige gives a small round of applause as she pulls up her sleep shorts.

“ten outta ten,” she says, watching azzi move to the sink to wash her hands. “great form. perfect leg work.”

azzi smiles at her through the mirror. “thank you, thank you.”

paige makes a fist, holding a pretend mic up to her mouth. “azzi, how’d you find the courage to perform such a brave endeavor?” she sticks the mic in azzi’s direction.

azzi grabs a hand towel and turns around, kneeling so she’s on paige’s level and leaning towards her hand. “well, i couldn’t have done it without my ridiculous girlfriend.” before paige can gasp in mock offense, she stands up, holding a now-dry hand out for paige to take. “c’mon, dummy, let’s go to bed.”

paige lets azzi pull her up, their fingers tangling automatically like they’ve done this a hundred times before. which, to be fair, they have.

“i think that counts as cardio,” paige mumbles, leaning her weight onto azzi’s side.

“don’t know how much coach would agree with that,” azzi says.

paige hums. the hallway feels a little colder now that they’ve left the bathroom light behind, but azzi’s hand is warm, steady.

“you know,” paige says, “this is above my pay grade.”

azzi raises an eyebrow. “what, helping your incredibly brave girlfriend pee?”

“exactly,” paige says, yawning into her shoulder. “i should unionize.”

azzi snorts. “pretty sure that makes me your boss.”

“god, don’t say that,” paige groans. “now i feel like i need to clock out.”

azzi opens the bedroom door for her with a flourish of her hand. “enjoy your unpaid overtime, baby.”

paige flops into bed face-first. “i hate you.”

azzi climbs in after her, grinning as she worms an arm around paige’s back. “you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

“what was that?”

paige nuzzles into azzi’s neck, poking at her ribs. “just playin’.”

they settle into the blankets, limbs tangling easily, comfortably. within seconds, paige is already halfway asleep, and azzi presses a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“thanks for the countdown,” she whispers.

“mm-hmm,” paige mumbles. “ten outta ten. great form.”

❀❀❀

this time, when paige wakes first, she doesn’t think twice about it. considering azzi had seemingly two nightmares last night—maybe more—it’s best for her to get some extra sleep. she fiddles around on her phone for a few minutes, taking a picture of azzi sleeping soundly on her chest and then staring at the picture for a solid five minutes before deciding it’s time to get up.

carefully, she places a hand under azzi’s head and another on her shoulder, maneuvering her over so she’s lying flat on her back. azzi makes a little sound at the movement, and paige presses a kiss to her forehead, shushing against her skin until she settles again. she takes a few more seconds to admire her girlfriend, then slips out of bed, wincing at the cold floor on her bare feet. sun is shining through the curtains now, and she rubs her eyes as she pads down the hallway.

in the bathroom, she listens to a story time on tiktok while she brushes her teeth, volume turned just low enough for only her to hear. her goal is not to wake azzi up—because she needs the sleep but also because she tends to be grumpy whenever she’s woken by anything other than her natural circadian rhythm. and paige already dealt with a strange, emotional azzi last night. she doesn’t need a cranky one, too.

she’s just wondering how long her girlfriend might sleep in when azzi sneaks up on her, arms wrapping tightly around her middle as she buries her nose into paige’s neck.

paige startles slightly, surprised that she apparently summoned her girlfriend. “oh,” she says, toothbrush dangling from her mouth. “hey, mama.”

“why’d you leave me?” azzi grumbles.

paige furrows her eyebrows, then leans forward and spits, sure she’s heard wrong. “huh?”

“why’d you leave me?” azzi repeats, clear as day now as she lifts her head to meet paige’s eyes in the mirror. she pouts at their reflection. “i woke up alone.”

paige laughs, sure azzi’s messing with her. “the codependency is crazy.”

azzi pinches her in the stomach.

“ow!” paige hits azzi’s hand away. “what the…?”

azzi pinches her again, maybe for good measure, then walks herself right out of the bathroom.

paige watches her go, shaking her head to herself. “what?” she whispers, incredibly confused. she glances around, half expecting a camera crew to jump out at her and tell her she’s being pranked. nobody appears and thus, it seems like this may actually be real. unfortunately.

she looks down at her stomach where azzi pinched her—twice!—and rubs the spot tenderly. she considers lying down on the floor and saying something like, “i’ve been hit,” and groaning until someone finds her, then decides it would be better to just go ask azzi what the hell that was for.

she finds azzi in the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge like she’s trying to decide whether to make breakfast or crawl inside and disappear. her bonnet’s still on, and she’s got the same t-shirt on from last night—paige’s t-shirt, technically—but now it’s crumpled and drooping off one shoulder in a way that’s both ridiculous and somehow hot.

“hey,” paige says, leaning against the doorway.

“hey,” azzi echoes, without turning around.

paige narrows her eyes. “you, uh…pinched me. twice.”

azzi shrugs. “you deserved it.”

paige bristles, just a little bit. “no i didn’t.” when azzi doesn’t respond, she sighs. “it actually kinda hurt.”

“you left me.”

“that doesn’t mean you get to pinch me.”

azzi stares into the depths of the fridge, clearly defeated. “i know. i’m sorry.”

“is this about last night?” paige asks gently, stepping closer. “your nightmare?”

azzi finally turns to look at her, expression unreadable. “no.”

“you sure?”

“mm-hmm.”

paige isn’t convinced. she steps forward and slips her arms around azzi’s waist. “you’re acting weird.”

“you’re weird.”

“okay,” paige says, letting it go for now. “do you want me to make breakfast?”

azzi shakes her head. “no. just…stand here.”

“here?”

“yeah. just for a minute.”

paige obeys, resting her chin on azzi’s shoulder. the fridge is still wide open. neither of them seems to care.

“you sure we’re okay? it’s not something i did?” she asks quietly.

azzi hesitates just long enough to make it noticeable. then she says, “nope.”

“really?”

“really.”

paige hums, unconvinced but not willing to push, still trying to hold onto that trust that azzi will tell the truth eventually. “okay.”

they stay like that for awhile, paige letting azzi be the first to let go, holding her until she’s ready to move on. morning lights pools the floor, the fridge hums quietly beside them—azzi doesn’t say anything else. paige doesn’t ask. not yet.

❀❀❀

paige has officially declared azzi insane. as in, clinically. in her head, of course—she’d never say that to azzi out loud. especially not when she’s acting like a crazy lady.

after the whole pinching incident, paige thinks maybe the rest of the day will be normal. they’ll chill until practice, then get ready for that frat party later, then fuck when they get home. that’s the plan.

azzi, however, appears to be on an entirely different timeline. or maybe a different planet. one where it’s okay to be clingy one second and upset the next. one where it’s okay to beg your girlfriend for cuddles then lock her out of the room for calling you by your name. (“why didn’t you call me ‘baby’? are you mad at me? do you hate me?”).

so yeah. paige is tired. mentally. emotionally. spiritually.

she gives azzi her space for a bit, hoping that whatever cosmic shift she’s experiencing will pass on its own, like a storm system. but when it’s been a suspiciously long time since she’s heard any noise—no music, no tiktoks, no passive-aggressive throat clears—she decides to go check.

the door to paige’s room is cracked open now. which is progress, considering it was fully closed (and locked) fifteen minutes ago. paige pushes it gently, peeking her head in.

and stops short.

azzi is curled up in the middle of the bed, blanket bunched around her waist, a tissue clutched in one hand and paige’s baby photo album in the other.

she is crying.

like, actual tears.

paige blinks. “um.”

azzi doesn’t look up.

“are you…crying?”

still no response.

paige steps into the room slowly, like she’s approaching a wild animal. “baby?”

azzi finally looks at her, bottom lip trembling. “you were so little.”

paige stares. “what?”

“your head was gigantic and your legs were so chubby. you looked like a little alien.” she hiccups. “a cute alien.”

paige walks over, cautiously sits at the edge of the bed. “are you okay?”

“no,” azzi sniffles. “you were just a baby. and now you’re not. and that’s so sad.”

“okay,” paige says, carefully pulling the tissue box closer. “but, like, if i was a baby, you wouldn’t be able to date me. you’d actually get sent to jail for dating me.” she considers it, then says, “well, i guess there are still some countries where we could go to jail for dating each other.”

azzi nods solemnly, then breaks into a fresh wave of tears.

paige gently pries the photo album out of her hands and replaces it with a tissue. “what are you even crying about right now?”

“i don’t know!” azzi wails. “you’re just so cute, and i love you, and one day we’re gonna be old and wrinkly and then dead.”

paige opens her mouth, then closes it again.

there’s just…no response to that.

so she pulls azzi into her lap instead, settling her against her chest the way azzi had done that morning. “oooh-kay. that’s enough internet for you today.”

“i’m not even on the internet.”

“i know, mama. that’s the scary part.”

azzi sniffles again and clutches the tissue like it’s a life raft.

paige presses a kiss to her forehead and sighs. “you are being so weird.”

“you like it.”

“debatable.”

paige strokes her back, ignoring azzi’s occasional mutterings of things like look at her little cheeks and this should be illegal every time she sneaks a glance back at the album.

paige still has no idea what’s going on. and honestly? she’s a little scared to ask anymore.

❀❀❀

practice is normal. at first.

there’s the usual yelling, the squeak of sneakers, the smell of floor polish and gatorade and barely contained rage. azzi’s running through drills like always—fast, locked in, pesky. paige watches her from the other end of the court, doing her own reps but always with one eye on her girlfriend, as usual.

and then it happens.

“azzi! what the hell was that?” coach bellows, clipboard smacking against his thigh.

everyone stops.

it’s not unusual for coach to yell—that’s kind of his thing—but he almost never yells at azzi. azzi is his golden child. his pride and joy. azzi could throw the ball in the opposite direction and coach would be like, “great look, just unlucky.”

so when azzi freezes mid-drill and blinks at coach like she’s been shot, everyone else freezes too.

“run the play right or don’t run it at all!” geno shouts again.

azzi doesn’t respond. just kind of…stands there. looking small. her mouth opens like she might say something, but then her lip wobbles and—oh god. oh no.

“is she crying?” kk whispers.

“shut up,” ice hisses, elbowing her. “she never cries.”

paige is already moving.

by the time she reaches azzi, her girlfriend is standing perfectly still, tears silently sliding down her cheeks, basketball clutched in her hands like it personally betrayed her.

“baby,” paige says gently, stepping in front of her.

“i’m fine,” azzi insists, voice watery. “i’m totally fine. i just—i can’t see. the lights are…bright.”

“okay,” paige says, nodding like that makes sense. “super bright. you never noticed the lights before?”

“maybe they got new ones.”

“no, yeah. that’s prolly it.”

coach looks borderline horrified. like he just yelled at a toddler or kicked a puppy. “shit,” he mutters. “i didn’t think she’d cry.”

“nobody thought she’d cry,” morgan says under her breath, still watching like she’s witnessing the downfall of a dynasty.

“maybe she has allergies,” caroline offers. “sometimes my eyes water when i’m sick.”

“do you sob when you’re sick?”

“okay, well—”

“do you want water?” paige asks, brushing the tears from azzi’s face with her sleeve.

“i want justice.”

“yup,” paige says, kissing her forehead. “totally reasonable. we can do that.”

“do you think coach hates me now?” azzi sniffles.

“nah. he probably already wrote a formal apology and a fruit basket.”

in the background, geno is frantically talking to cd, gesturing wildly at azzi with the clipboard like he’s trying to take it all back with body language alone.

“do i look ugly when i cry?” azzi asks suddenly.

“you look beautiful. like a…betrayed deer.”

azzi squints. “…i’ll take it.”

practice ends early. nobody knows why, but coach announces it in a shaky voice and then disappears into his office like he needs a moment to reevaluate his life.

everybody says thank you to azzi as they walk out, because practice doesn’t end early unless a volcano erupts or a tsunami strikes. or, apparently, unless the princess cries.

in the locker room, the girls flock.

“girl, i didn’t even know you had tear ducts,” kk says, still looking a little shell-shocked.

“do you want a hug or a juice box?” morgan asks, one arm outstretched and the other holding a lukewarm juice box from her locker.

“you guys,” azzi mutters, pulling her shirt on. “you’ve seen me cry during movies.”

“barely,” aubrey says.

“yeah, you usually watch us cry during the sad parts and laugh about it,” allie chips in.

“she saves the crying for later,” paige informs.

azzi shoots her a glare.

oops. paige clears her throat, waving them off with one hand and holding azzi with the other. “aight, move on. y’all are crowding her, damn.”

caroline nods, like the supportive best friend she is. “she needs privacy in this trying time.”

the girls giggle but obey, drifting off even as they continue to glance worriedly at azzi every few seconds. paige finishes getting ready quickly, taking azzi’s hand to walk out with her into the nippy connecticut air.

paige stops her once they get outside. “you okay now?” she asks softly.

“no.”

“do you want to be dramatic about it for a lil longer?”

“yes.”

“okay.”

paige presses a kiss to her temple. “you’re lucky you’re a pretty crier.”

“you’re lucky i don’t have the energy to fight you.”

paige smiles. “you finna sue coach?”

“maybe. emotional damages.”

“i’ll testify.”

azzi nods solemnly. “you’re a good girlfriend.”

“yeah,” paige says, tugging her closer. “i know.”

even after everyone else has left the facility—most of the girls gagging at the pda as they walk past on their way to the dorms—paige and azzi stay like that. holding on. clearly, azzi needs it. and paige wishes she knew why.

but for the first time all day, paige doesn’t feel tired at all.

❀❀❀

“you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

paige lays on the bed, watching azzi do her hair in the mirror. what with everything that’s gone on today, paige thinks azzi might just need a good old movie night. and while paige loves a good party, she’d never say no to a night in with her girlfriend.

azzi nods, spraying her hair down with water. “i’m good.”

“okay,” paige says doubtfully. “i just ask because of, you know, practice. and the baby pictures. and this morning, in the bathroom. and the two times you woke me up in the middle of the night.”

by the time she’s done listing everything off. azzi has turned around to glare at her, unimpressed.

paige puts her hands up in the air. “am i wrong?”

azzi squints at her, then turns back around, picking up the leave-in conditioner. “i am fine.”

“it’s just the whole crying multiple times thing that’s throwing me off. and the abuse.” paige rubs her tummy. “i think i have a mark.”

“don’t make me come over there,” azzi warns, combing her fingers through her curls.

paige smiles. “i want you over here, mama. what else i gotta do? talk about how dramatic you’ve been? ask why you made me watch you pee at the asscrack of daw—ow!”

azzi smiles smugly. “that’s what you get.”

paige picks up the item that azzi just threw at her—a hairbrush—and holds it up in the air. “see? abuse.”

“you call it abuse,” azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, “i call it karma.”

paige scoffs, flopping on the bed and turning on her side, facing away from azzi. “i hate you.”

it’s quiet for a few moments, the low sounds of azzi doing her hair the only thing filling the space. paige thinks maybe azzi isn’t going to fall for the bait and is about to give up and turn back around when footfalls approach the bed.

she smiles to herself, then fixes her expression into a pout.

the mattress dips as azzi sits on it, just a moment before painted nails begin to scratch at paige’s scalp. “hey.”

paige doesn’t reply.

“sit up for me,” azzi murmurs.

paige lets herself be guided, slow and sulky, until she’s upright against the headboard. azzi swings one leg over, settling into her lap with practiced ease, having done the same thing countless times before. her hands find paige’s shoulders, sliding over the planes of them, down her arms, then back up again, teasing.

“you’re such a baby,” azzi says, but her voice is warm, fond. her eyes flick down to paige’s mouth.

“you threw a hairbrush at me,” paige mutters, even as her hands settle on azzi’s hips, fingers tightening just a little.

azzi leans in, nose brushing paige’s. “and you survived.”

paige laughs, breathless, and then azzi kisses her. soft at first, slow and coaxing, then deeper. paige melts into it, letting herself be pulled under, hands roaming—azzi’s back, her thighs, the curve of her waist under her shirt.

azzi pulls back just long enough to whisper, “still hate me?”

paige shakes her head. “you know i couldn’t if i wanted to.” she kisses azzi again, prodding her tongue against the seam of her lips, a silent question.

azzi hums approvingly, opening her mouth just enough for paige’s tongue to slip inside, and paige groans when she gets a taste of her. she knows this is all azzi’s way of getting what she wants, but she lets herself be played. if you see me being manipulated by a fine-ass girl with dimples, she thinks to herself in amusement, don’t save me, i’m right where i wanna be.

paige lets her hands wander down to azzi’s ass, grabbing her the way they both like. azzi lets out this little noise, sexy and enticing—and then there’s a knock, sharp and sudden, at the door.

“yo,” comes a voice from the hallway, muffled but unmistakable—yanna. “az, you in there?”

azzi pulls back, looking irritated as she stares at the door. “yeah, what’s up?”

“you still want help with your hair?”

azzi’s eyes widen before she squeezes them shut. “shit. i forgot,” she whispers, looking apologetically at a frowning paige before calling out, “yeah, just gimme a sec!”

“aight,” yanna responds, sounding like she knows exactly why they need a sec.

azzi drops her forehead onto paige’s shoulder with a groan. “i knew someone was gonna interrupt.”

paige grins, arms wrapping fully around her. “karma,” she sing-songs.

azzi pinches her side.

❀❀❀

the party’s lit, rap music playing so loud paige can feel it in her bones—her favorite volume for music, if she’s being honest. bodies press close together, a swirl of heat, laughter, and the occasional shout to be heard over the beat. the air’s thick with the mingling scents of beer and some kind of fruity vodka drink that no one’s really sure about, body spray and cologne and sweat. the kitchen’s a disaster—a counter full of empty bottles and half-eaten chips, the trash overflowing with beer cans and paper plates.

paige has long given up trying to find a quiet corner, instead letting herself get swept up in the chaos. she had been with azzi, of course, the two of them navigating through the crowd together, paige’s arm wrapped loosely around azzi’s waist like it was some kind of built-in tether. azzi clung to her like she was the only solid thing in the room, fingers grazing paige’s side every time the crowd pushed them apart. azzi has never liked to party alone on a good day, but on a strange one like today? paige hadn’t been surprised one bit when azzi glued herself to her side like her life depended on it.

they’d been there for a couple hours by the time azzi had told her she needed to use the restroom, and though paige had offered to come with, azzi surprisingly shook her head. apparently she’s able to pee on her own now. good for her.

now, paige checks the time on her phone for what feels like the billionth time. it’s been too long since azzi disappeared for the bathroom. she wonders if she might need saving.

paige scans the room, eyes moving over the knot of people in various stages of inebriation—some laughing too loud, others slumped against walls, and a few making out in plain view, which simultaneously grosses her out and makes her miss her girlfriend more. she wants to be drunkenly making out in a public space right now.

more urgently, paige goes to the bathroom. the line is pretty long, but she walks along it, looking for any sign of her girlfriend—nothing. she’s not there.

“anyone seen azzi?” paige asks, a hint of unease creeping into her voice as she approaches a few of the girls who’ve huddled up in the kitchen.

they all look up, aubrey sipping from a red cup, ice half-heartedly playing with her phone. no one seems to have a clue. they also look faded as hell, which doesn’t help.

“she was with you, right?” sarah asks, sounding like she doesn’t care at all. paige raises an eyebrow and considers getting on her ass for underage smoking, then decides against it—that’s caroline’s job.

“yeah, but that was like… twenty minutes ago. where’d she go?” paige asks again, more insistent now. she scans the space once more, her heart rate picking up just a little bit. maybe azzi slipped out to get some air? got stuck in a conversation? paige checks her phone, half-expecting a text or something, but there’s nothing. just the usual group messages.

“maybe she’s in the bathroom,” kk suggests, not looking too concerned. jesus, even kk is chilled-out. that must’ve been some serious weed.

which makes her think—“where’s jana?”

the girls look around lazily, and ice blinks hard. “she was with us, like, i swear, two seconds ago.”

“yeah, no,” sarah agrees. “she was just here.”

paige stares at them. “she wasn’t here when i walked up.”

“we was just smoking with her,” kk says casually.

“y’all, she left twenty minutes ago,” ayanna informs them. they all look at each other, then bust up laughing.

“god,” paige mumbles under her breath. she has a half a mind to tell the girls to stay put so they don’t get lost, but azzi is the only thing on her mind right now. if she hasn’t texted paige, she must not need saving from an awkward social situation. and if jana disappeared around the same time azzi did, maybe they found each other at the bathroom and decided to sneak off.

“y’all are no help,” she tells her friends before heading off, shouldering her way through the crowd until she gets past the bathroom line. she’s in the back of the apartment now, where it’s much quieter, and a whole lot more potent. paige wrinkles her nose. the stoners are back here, that’s for sure.

she opens up one door—there’s a group of red-eyed girls passing around a blunt, laughing at a joke someone made. they look up and a girl holds the joint up, but paige waves her off. “nah, i’m good. my fault.” she closes the door and continues on.

the next room is locked, and she doesn’t even wanna know what could be going on in there, so she moves straight on to the last door in the hallway. she cracks it open, and immediately, the smell of weed hits her like a truck. if she’d thought it was strong in the hallway, it’s like a fucking oven in here. and inside, three familiar faces: caroline, jana, and azzi, who looks perfectly unharmed, but also ten times more zooted than the last time paige saw her. and, why isn’t paige surprised, she’s crying.

azzi doesn’t see her—she’s too busy crying into her hands while caroline rubs her back and jana gives some sort of motivational speech—but carol does. even carol—responsible, mama carol—looks fried.

“oh, hey!” she says happily, smiling when she sees paige. jana looks over and cheers, “yoooo!”

jesus. did everyone decide to smoke without her? though, standing in the doorway, paige is sure she’s getting a contact high.

“hey, hey,” caroline is saying to azzi, jostling her a little. “look, honey, look who it is! it’s paige!”

azzi pulls her face out of her hands. her mascara is running, and when she sees paige, she practically wails.

“what the fuck?” paige asks. “what is going on with y’all?”

“well, jana asked if we wanted to smoke with her,” caroline supplies. jana nods.

“and she has some legit ass weed because i swear i only took, like, two puffs, and i’m high as hell,” caroline continues. jana nods again, proudly.

“and then we got on the topic of you and azzi started crying? i don’t know why. i thought she missed you. but maybe not. considering…”

“she’s been crying a lot today,” paige tells them.

jana snorts. “yeah, clearly. practice was crazy.”

paige shakes her head at the two of them, then walks inside, fanning a hand in front of her face to try and ward off the smell. “az,” she says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. “what’s goin’ on, mama?”

azzi looks up. she looks at paige, who nods encouragingly at her. and then she looks at caroline, who smiles. and then she stands up and wipes her eyes and points at paige with such a viciousness it actually makes her scoot back a little.

“what’s going on?” she asks mockingly. “what’s going on?”

paige leans away from her finger. “uh…yeah?”

“you! you are what’s going on!” azzi cries. jana makes a small ‘oop’ noise and caroline stands up, muttering something about ‘gotta go, gotta go,’ while she ushers jana out, and then it’s just the two of them. paige looks longingly after them, because she feels like she’s in the middle of wwIII with no ammunition.

“i don’t—“ paige starts, but azzi cuts her off.

“it was you,” she seethes, “and that fucking girl in your stats class.”

paige stands, feeling a little less threatened now that they’re eye to eye, but no less fucking confused. “what?”

“that pretty fucking girl whose messages i found in your phone!” azzi continues on, throwing her hands in the air. she wipes furiously as more tears stream down her face. “i can’t believe…i thought you loved me…” she turns around, once again burying her face in her hands.

“baby, i do online school!” paige says, incredulous.

“and then,” azzi says darkly, as if she hadn’t heard her, “you went and fucking died.”

paige practically chokes. what is it with her girlfriend and death today? “azzi!” she says, taking her by the shoulder to spin her around. “the fuck are you talking about?”

“my dream, paige!”

paige stares at her for a moment, waiting for more. when nothing comes, she blinks. “wait. you’re telling me this whole—” she gestures vaguely around the weed-smoked war zone, “—meltdown is because of a dream?”

azzi lets out a choked sob and nods, eyes wide and glassy. “you died, paige. you cheated on me and then we fought and i walked away and then i tried to find you later but i couldn’t and you were dead and the last memory i had was of you calling me a stupid hoe—”

“okay, whoa,” paige says, holding up both hands, trying not to laugh. “first of all, why would i call you a stupid hoe if i was the one who cheated?”

“i don’t know!” azzi yells, frustrated tears falling freely again. “dream-you was so mean!”

paige finally breaks. she doubles over laughing, trying to muffle it behind her hands but failing completely. “you mean to tell me i’ve been getting dirty looks all day, got hit with a hairbrush, got woken up twice last night, cried on like five times, and now walked into a fucking hotbox death match—because of dream-me?”

“don’t laugh!” azzi cries, though her voice cracks and she’s fighting a smile now too. “it felt real! and i went to the bathroom and then i smoked and i realized i didn’t know where you were and i was starting to think maybe i dreamed this too.”

paige walks up to her and pulls her into a hug, burying her face in azzi’s shoulder, still chuckling. “you are so stupid. like, dangerously stupid

azzi mumbles something unintelligible into her shirt.

“what was that?” paige asks.

“i said i love you,” azzi repeats, louder now but still pouty. “even if you’re a ghost.”

paige laughs again, kisses the side of her head. “i’m not a ghost. i’m right here. and i love you too. even if you’re fucking insane.”

azzi sniffs. “you’d tell me if you were dead, right?”

paige pulls back just enough to look her in the eye, grinning. “baby. i promise i will never die without texting you first.”

azzi nods solemnly. “okay. good.”

and then she lays her head on paige’s chest like they haven’t just been yelling at each other in a smoky bedroom over something that didn’t even happen.

paige wraps her arms tighter around her and sighs. “i’m never letting you sleep again.”

❀❀❀

later that night, azzi is curled up like a shrimp in paige’s bed, half-tucked under the purple blanket, her other half dramatically hanging off the side like she’s forgotten how beds work.

“do you want water?” paige asks from across the room, holding up an owala like she’s offering a peace treaty.

“no,” azzi replies, voice muffled. “yes. no. i don’t know.” she flops over. “my mouth is dry but i don’t want to move.”

paige crosses the room, uncaps the bottle, and presses it gently to azzi’s lips. “open up, bighead.”

azzi sips obediently. “thank you,” she whispers, like paige just pulled her from a burning building.

paige sets the bottle down and climbs into bed beside her. “you’re lucky you’re cute, because today has been a journey.”

“you’re lucky i keep it cute,” azzi mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “or else i would’ve knocked your ass in that dream. i was holding back.”

paige snorts. “you think dream-you could take me?”

“girl, we both know real me could take your ass down.”

paige grins, pulling the blanket up over both of them. “i hope jana and carol don’t remember your meltdown tomorrow.”

“it was tragic,” azzi says, dead serious. “a tragic moment.”

“you’re the least tragic person i’ve ever met,” paige replies. “you cried and then called me a ghost.”

“you were dead, paige!”

“i was in the kitchen,” she says flatly. “eating chips.”

azzi opens one eye. “so you’re saying the chips were more important than me?”

paige stares at her. “go to sleep.”

azzi reaches for her under the covers and pulls her in with all the upper body strength she has left. “never leave me again,” she whispers.

“i left for twenty minutes.” paige thinks about it, then says, “and technically, you left me. i was all up in that party looking for your high ass.”

“never again.”

paige rolls her eyes, but settles in beside her, letting azzi press her cold toes against her shin like always. the room is quiet for a few minutes, and paige thinks maybe azzi’s finally asleep when she hears—

“hey, babe?”

“hm?”

“if you die in another dream, can i come with you this time?”

paige groans. “you are so weird.”

“but you love me.”

“unfortunately,” paige says, smiling in the dark. “yeah, i do.”

[mscherub]

Emotional Support Shrimp

A/N: cutely drops in this fic I’ve had in my drafts for months…I’m still working on the Idia request. AND FOR THE OTHER PPL WHO REQUESTED STUFF I SEE U, I’m just unmotivated…Writers block is kicking my ass 😞

Tags: A little dark, supposed to be funny, fluff, Floyd being a menace…

Warnings:

Floyd leech causes harm (when doesn’t he?)

Violence

mentions of injuries (random student, referee)

suggestive towards the end

Swearing

Honestly, when is money not always a huge feat for you? The day you finally get your allowance from Crowley, it’s gone within a minute from being spent on only a portion of needed items. Last week you ended up running out of tuna for Grim, and for the love of the seven you don’t wanna go through that again. Everyone knew of your situation, wasn’t very hard to see, but you weren’t the type to latch on to others and use them like a pay pig, but many offered which is a little concerning, anyways, to each their own, you suppose. You had your own values to follow, but you did appreciate what they were willing to do.

Azul knew quite fondly of your situation, using you as a “backup” employee for when one of the servers or dishwasher at the lounge decided to call off, and you usually accepted because, hey, money! He didn’t exactly trust you in the kitchen, mainly based off of the liabilities he could face since you didn’t even have birth records or anything that he could “ok” for you to work within that vicinity, but everything else was a great option.

The laborious shifts were no stranger to you after having taken up a position there so many times, you could say you were used to it by this point, and an even bigger achievement, used to the ways of the tweels, specifically Floyd. Yes they were unpredictable, yes they were scary when they wanted to be, yes they gave off mafia vibes, but they somehow “accepted” you, accepted, of course, being a very vague term to describe it. Maybe tolerate is a bit better. They didn’t seem to wish to cause harm or other masses of stress like they would just for funsies with other guys around campus, but if push comes to shove, you bet they’d have no doubt and chuck you under the bus in mere seconds, hence why you try and stay on their good side.

Technically they all owe you one in a way, especially Azul with his little overblot, but that’s something in the past for you at least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Incident One: Ice Bath

“Prefect, go reason with him!” Azul barks out the command. You sigh and turn around from his office and go to find Floyd. A cycle that repeats itself. Free Therapist for Floyd is a good title…no, wait no. Doesn’t make sense. Plaything would be more appropriate. The thought makes you shudder and shake your head.

The click of the dress shoes on the ground, the clamor of people in the lounge, drowns out as your thoughts officially take over.

This time Floyd messed around more than he should have with people on Azul’s black list, and he may or may not have gotten carried away. So now you’re back on the hunt to find him after getting an earful from the boss himself, and hearing him and the troublemaker bicker in his office. Fun times here at Mostro Lounge. Why’d you choose to work here. Should have asked Mr. Sam if he needed any help…

The door to the pool is stuck wide open and once you peer your head inside you see Floyd swimming in circles angrily, the water rippling swiftly around his body.

“Floyd.” You call out. It’s almost akin to a gentle coo. Where did that gentleness come from? Whatever…

“Wanna swim, Shrimpy? I’ll promise not to drown you.” He stops and smirks. Ok. Stay away from the water. “Or if you came here to chat…we can see if I’ve got the patience for that right now.” He sighs.

“Azul—“

“I don’t wanna hear it. Quit your yapping and go swim around somewhere else.” His eyes narrow and his fins tense.

“Look. If you just got back to work then—“ you’re cut off again.

“Work is the last thing I wanna do right now.” He glares at you, but then eerily a smirk forms once he beckons you over. “You can cheer me up if you swim with me.”

“I have to get back to working too— and ok, never mind…”

He hoists himself up onto the tiled floor, half of his tail still swaying in the water. And then he pouts at you. It shouldn’t do anything to sway your determination to get him on track again, but it crumbles down those walls and you find yourself walking towards him.

“Yay! You do like me a little at least then, Shrimpy.” He giggles, and before you know it he grabs your wrist and slips back into the water, pulling you in with him.

It’s cold. OH IT’S SUPER COLD!

Thrashing your arms in the water you bob back up to the surface, your uniform hat drifting away to the other side of this might-as-well-be ice bath. This was a lot colder than you remember when you went down to the sea the one time…

“Hah! Cold? Humans are just so weak…” Floyd’s voice rumbles from behind you and his slick, slimy arms wrap around your soaked clothes that act as a second skin, yet barely do anything to keep the bite of the cold away.

“But you’re my Shrimpy so I’ll keep ya safe.”

His warmth is shared with yours now, but it’s not enough, unfortunately.

“Floyd…lemme outta here. It so fucking cold holy shit.”

He giggles at your misfortune and spins around a few times with you in his arms slowly.

His chin rests on your shoulder and a silence falls over you two. It’s not uncomfortable. But it’s short lived.

“Hold your breath!”

“Floyd, wait— No!!”

Bubbles spew out of your nose and you force your eyes open only to see mismatched ones gleaming with amusement.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I can’t believe you two…the time spent, rather wasted, will be taken out of both of your checks. This is just unbelievable…” Azul groans. His hand runs down his face before he sets his elbows down on the desk and rubs his temples.

“Out of my office.”

The silence is loud as you two walk out, a towel wrapped around you and a sloppily dressed Floyd who was just earlier grumbling about having to drink that transformation potion.

“Do something like that again and…ugh…”

“Eh? I thought it was fun, Shrimpy! We’ll swim again soon for sure.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Incident Two: Plucked Petals

“Drag him back to work…” Again?

You heed Azul’s orders and you turn out of his office yet again, pushing open the door and heading on your way to search for the one and only…

He left midway through his shift. It had only been like 3 hours…and he already got “bored.” You’re just fed up with his excuses, and then you end up getting yelled at as well if you take too long. You need to get back on the clock, too, “be lucky I’m even paying you to go get him,” Azul says, “be lucky I even pay you in the first place,” Azul says. Ok…anyways.

Traces of Floyd are no where to be seen. He couldn’t have gone far in the span of, what? Five minutes? He had long legs, sure, but he—

“OFF WITH YOU’RE HEAD!”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You knew who that was. Great. Now you had to calm down two people! Lovely…

You jog around the corner of the mirror chamber to the path way only to see Floyd with rose petals scattered about around him and a very angry riddle with his arms crossed in an exponential amount of annoyance and anger, as well as an unamused look.

“Oh-“

Riddles head whips in your direction and you prepare yourself for the onslaught of complaints…

“He broke a rule!” Riddle says, “He ruined my flowers,” Riddle says, “He came onto Heartslabyul grounds without invite and unannounced,” Riddle says. You had enough.

“Yea. He uh…mhmmm. I’ll take him back, just…uncollar him…” your finger points over to Floyd. He’s actively tugging at it and trying to crane his neck downwards so he can gnaw it off…is he ok?

“This is not the first time this has happened. I’ve let him get away with his actions one too many times. I shall send this matter to Headmaster Crowley now if you’d excuse me, Prefect. I have more pressing matters to tend to than dwaddle on a sorry soul who doesn’t know basic decency…”

“Riddle…I get where you’re coming from but Azul will soon have my head if I don’t bring him back and myself…so uh.” You sway on your feet.

He thinks for a moment. You weren’t untrustworthy, so maybe he could let this slide— just kidding, he’s Riddle. With a stern look and a dismissive tone, he makes up his mind and drags Floyd away to the main building.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“And now Floyd has earned a suspension?” Jade hums as he wipes off a table.

“From entering any other dorm besides his own, prohibited to participate in any club activities or work at the lounge, and now Azul’s making me work his shift and mine for at least a week…until his suspension is up.”

“My, my…I’d say it was deserved. As much as Floyd is held dear to me, he causes the outcomes with his actions. He finds them to be quite amusing, however, greatly so once you get involved.”

“Yea— wait…when I get involved? Is he doing this stuff on purpose?” Your hands perch themselves on your hips.

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Ugh…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Incident Three: Balling

“What the fuck…” That’s all that leaves your lips once you step into the gym. People are chatting loudly and quickly and the only message that you got from Ace was:

Help. Floyd did sum shit. Tell him to get a hold and hopefully plan his words right so he doesn’t get a law suit

Safe to say you are fairly concerned. You push through the crowd of kids and find the familiar redhead accompanied by Jamil. Ace doesn’t let you speak one word once his eyes land on you.

“Ok, before you get all mad here, Prefect, you were the first one I decided to call cause uh…you know. You’re closer to the twins than anyone else really…” Ace attempts to reason with you but you’re entirely focused on something else. Someone else.

“Why is that guy passed out?”

The referee is surrounded by a few Sports med mages, all assessing the passes out form in the middle of the court. There’s a small pool of blood under his nose, which his nose is now plugged up with bits of gauze.

“Ok, yea. So…Floyd was given a penalty and he kinda hurled the ball at the ref…now he’s…” he motions vaguely to the motionless form. “Kinda knocked out. Probably has a broken nose. The look on the ref’s face was kinda priceless, though—“

Jamil smacks Ace and sighs.

“What?!”

“Floyd stormed off…” Jamil nods. That much is expected.

“Ok then…I shall…go find him.”

The suns setting. There’s a nice orange hue casted across the land. The setting would be really amazing to gawk at if it wasn’t for the task at hand. To find the culprit and ease him down from his hot headedness…you’re fine.

“Floyd—“

A hand grips your shoulder and turns you around. Face pressed against sweaty skin in under a second and you know who it is.

“Gross! Floyd!” His arms squeeze and, yep, don’t even try and breathe.

“That damn ref, you know? So sensitive! All I did was just trip someone…a couple times. RSA was kicking our asses again…just a tiny bit of foul play never hurt anyone…at least not too bad. Sports back in the sea were more fun!” His hold is steadfast.

“I once broke some poor guppies arm in a sport back home. Scuttle Ship. Fun game. And then I ripped his fins.”

“O-oh…ok…uh. On accident?” You struggle to keep your face from being muffled against his skin.

“Nah. Whole point of the game…whoever comes out less hurt is the winner.”

Oh…oh.

“Fun game…why are you here, anyways? Did ya come to watch the game? Hope you were gonna cheer for me.” His embrace, eases up.

“Uh, yea…and also I was worried…to see that you kinda left after what went down in the gymnasium…”

“Eh. He was a dumb ref like I said…”

You pause and clear your throat. “Your team needs you again…even id you’ll probably be benched.”

“Well then there’s no point in me going back. Plus. You’re better to hang around. I didn’t wanna play that game today, anyways…whaddya say we go scare some students walking around this late, huh?”

“Floyd…”

“Cmon.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Last shift of the week! Yay! You just gotta tough it out. Easier said than done. You’ll get your paycheck and then off to Heartslabyul to get Grim and then probably get force-fed some pastries by Trey which you’ll happily accept, and then back to Ramshackle.

“Jade, where’s Floyd? I need these orders for table 12, like now…” you huff as you shift the tray out from under your arm and place it down on the counter, looking back in the kitchen through the doubles doors that swing at their hinges. Articulating back and forth in a fluid motion.

“He got called into Azul’s office.” He hums as he idly writes down things on his notepad

“Again?” That’s just great news for you. “If I have to call him down again I might just quit for real this time.”

Jade doesn’t even turn his head at your words. There ones you’ve said before yet you’re still here.

“Always, he’s been slacking off, as usual.” He smiles. “I can go ask the cooks where the meals are if you’d like.”

“I’d…appreciate it. I need the tips from customers tonight so I need all the tables I can get. Thanks a bunch.” You sigh, leaning against the counter and pulling out your phone. You read a few of the messages sent to various group chats you were in, the first year group chat oddly talking about how Professor Crewel is, quote, “a kinky mf.” Yea, you’re just gonna put your phone away again…were they wrong though?

Jade comes back out carrying another circular tray, you straighten up and you take it off of him. “Thank you, Jade. You’re a financial savior for me.” You chuckle as you move your hand around on the bottom till it rests balanced on your palm.

“It was nothing, really.” He gives a small bow and goes back to his duties.

You head off again back into the seating areas, weaving through the crowds of people who were, for some reason, standing instead of sitting and ending up in your way. You make it over to your section and then over to the table, bending your knees a bit as you place the tray down on a smaller foldable table off to the side. A random plate is selected and you put on your happy face and act for the people sitting around in the booth.

“Here you are, the seafood bake, uh, then you, you got the lobster dish here…then you ordered the salmon, and then you ordered the snow crab! That’s it I believe? Does anybody need anything before I head off?” You clasp your hands together and look frantically around the table as you wait and watch for any of them to speak. You’re met with small shakes of their heads and soft sighs of no’s, taking the hint and giving one last bright smile before you nod and walk off.

Off in the distance, a muffled slam of a door is heard and you see Floyd walking out of Azul’s office, a grimace etched onto his face as he heads back into the kitchen and passes by Jade, who, just glares at him before he goes to finish his own tasks.

You knew what would happen next, Azul would find you, then make you “calm him down.” It was never something you liked mainly because it was putting your life at risk, which was ironic because Azul explicitly stated he didn’t want you partaking in any harmful activities, but whatever. It’s sadly another small side job that’s forced upon you just so Floyd can get back to work himself. All for money…

The other waiters grab dishes and scurry off, moving far away. The chatter and yelling within the kitchen dies down significantly, going quiet as pots and pans slam against the stove top, the only culprit of that being Floyd. You take one breath in before you go inside and pick out the teal-ish colored hair from the other bundles of students and walk over to him as calmly as you could. It’s better to do the things you know that you’ll be asked to do before they happen, so…you got this. And you’re only doing it because you know you’ll be asked to and totally not because you like Floyd maybe a little. That’s not it. Definitely not it. He’s scary why would you like him? Exactly. Anyways! No sweat! It’s just Floyd…that’s it! Just Floyd and no worries…everything will go swell and you’ll all be happy again! Maybe he’ll break a few ribs when he squeezes you but that’s nothing…you’ll just be magicked up later by the nurse mage and you’ll be just fine. Just fine. You’re sweating. Shit—

“Hey, Floyd. What happened.” You sigh with a slight pout on your face. He doesn’t even look at you, his face contorting even more into a look that said “leave me the fuck alone.” It was worth a shot…he usually found that to be a dumb look on you but I guess not today. Oh no. He’s royally pissed right now. Hopefully Azul didn’t sneak a waiver somewhere in that working contract you signed…

You straighten up and glance at the other chefs in the kitchen, all of them giving you questioning gazes. One in the back clasps his hands together and bows his head and— wait, is this guy really praying right now? Geez…

“Floyd…” you try again.

He works away harder at the random meal he’s cooking. The contents already looked charred…

“Don’t wanna talk, Shrimpy,” He huffs, “Go.” He says gruffly.

“I’m not gonna go—“

“I’m busy! Since Azul wants me working my fins off then you know what, I’ll do just that!” He spits out. It sounds threatening, filled with warnings, but before you could try one last time to get him to ease up, one of the students bumps into him, sending the dishes they were carrying flying into the air. The guy stumbles back, food splattering on the floor and plates shattering, Floyd acting like a brick wall and staying still as he slowly turns to look down at him. No words are exchanged. None at all. He simply dumps the hot oil and food that he had into the pan onto him.

Screaming, yelling, a lot goes on within the span of a few seconds. Azul comes in, Jade follows behind, other waiters peer into the kitchen to see what’s going on.

You take the initiative and you grab Floyd’s arm while he’s distracted and take the pan from out of his grasp and set it back down on the stove. You turn the burner off and you look back at him, then to the, now injured, guy upon the floor.

“Floyd. This is coming out of your check, and you’re banned from the kitchen.” Azul comes over quickly with an aura of anger. Floyd rolls his eyes and pushes past him to walk out.

“Prefect, go after him, will you? I don’t need him hurting another person who doesn’t deserve it.” Azul waves his hand at the situation. It was common so no one really took much time to dwell on it since Floyd partook in these types of activities just to pass the time. A common occurrence if you will.

Azul gives you one last stern glance to tell you again silently to go do what he had asked of you. You reluctantly nod and you go out to search for him. It’s absurd, really, having to do all of this. It’d be better if they left him alone to blow off some steam, but no, you have to go calm him down, you have to be the one to watch him like a helicopter parent.

You go to the tweels shared room and knock on the door. It was a just a guess he’d be in his room, but you silently hoped he wasn’t so you’d have some time to avoid either a life or death situation. You liked your life at least a little now…

Silence. You’re met with silence. Ok, try again, just once more to make sure he’s not in there. You knock again, a little louder this time and announcing yourself to being there. And silence again. Maybe fate is helping you out today…

“Floyd? Are you in there?.” You’re about to knock one last time when the door is quickly ripped open, an angry Floyd peering down at you. Brows furrowed, eyes squinted and dark, glazed over with frustration and anger, a scowl etched into his lips. Yep…and here you were, standing in front of him, practically helpless and without anywhere to run because you know he’d find that a fun game and catch up to you in a second.

You straighten up under his gaze and clear the lump in your throat that you didn’t even know formed.

“Hey…”

Floyd doesn’t make any noises, instead opting for what he likes to do when he’s this mad, and wraps his arms around you and squeezes tight. He brings you into the room and closes the door with his foot, going over to his bed and taking you down with him as he nuzzles his cheek against yours.

You try and squirm out of his arms but he’s insanely strong and the efforts you make are useless. You’re already waiting for your back to make a popping noise…

“Floyd— heyyyy…let me go.” You murmur out as you struggle to breathe with all this extra weight on top of you.

“Shhh, Shrimpy. Quiet.” He mutters. He moves his face to the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against the side, which in turn causes you to tense up. What the fuck is he doing. You try to shrink away, but that was a mistake because he squeezes you against him even more.

He brushes his lips over your pulse point and smirks, but it quickly fades away as he opts to keep his face pressed up against your neck, not doing anything. He likes to feel your heart racing…

“Always trying to make me feel better, Shrimpy…” he sighs. “And you do…meh, sometimes…you don’t have to listen to Azul…but ya do. Starting to wonder if you just like being around me…” he nuzzles into you again, teeth grazing your skin.

“For one, I kinda have to listen to Azul…” you whisper. “I can’t be like you with him. Plus…I don’t mind you all that much since—“ he squeezes again. For sevens sake. “Ease up! I don’t mind you, yea…you’re fine to be around. That’s it.”

“Liar…” he chuckles. “You’re so silly…” he pulls his face up and looks at you, his mismatched eyes calculating, inspecting that gaze in your eyes towards him.

“You’re stupid, too…for liking someone like me. But it’s so cute, Shrimpy.” His lips quirk up into a smirk and he bears his razor sharp teeth to you. “I could easily hurt you, Shrimpy….”

“That sounds vaguely like a threat but…you don’t really hurt me— not ever actually. Scare me? Yes…but not hurt.” you murmur. His smile softens a bit and he nods, moving his forehead to rest against yours. If you weren’t already flushed, you were now.

“No…but I could, that’s the point.” He giggles before moving away again. He was teasing. “Do you know why I don’t?” He hums as he sits up, letting his arms unravel from around you. He looks out the window connected to the sea. You sit up as well, taking in a well deserved breath of air.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as the fish pass by without a care. Your uniform is all wrinkled now, great—

“Cause I’d be kinda pissed off without you around, y’know. And not just how I usually am…I’d be mad all the time.”

You stop. He stops and looks at you. You make very awkward eye contact with him, but both of your gazes soften. That’s sweet of him in his own way. Quite frankly you didn’t think he was capable of that since it’s not usually like him. Why is your heart beating a bit quicker now? This time it’s not so much out of stress or the fear of being eaten alive, Floyd looks fairly sated so…what’s this feeling for…

“What do you think of me, hmmm?”

You don’t know how to respond to that. Does he actually care what people think? No, not really. You see that all the time with how he even talks to teachers. But if you had to say, the few people he listens to, slightly, are Jade, Azul, and…you. That doesn’t mean anything! This is an odd question coming from him. “I think you’re…ok. Being around you is fun sometimes…uh…I don’t really know.” That’s great. You probably ticked him off more…

“Just ‘ok’? Ouch, Shrimpy…” he pouts as he looks at you. He inches his face closer to yours again, personal space being far out of the question at the moment. He looks down to your lips before smirking again and then locking on to your eyes.

“You just saying that cause you’re hiding something?”

That’s not…you weren’t, no. Definitely not. You didn’t really want to say how well he made you smile or laugh on days where you were down, or that he cared that much to make you happy again. Or whenever he’d always seem to find you to be his go to person to bug now for, well, everything he did.…you didn’t wanna say you liked getting him out of trouble, didn’t want to tell him you do enjoy being around him, he’d get all smug about it…and that’s it! Totally nothing else behind it. Nope.

“Be honest, Shrimpy. You like me? Cause I like you…for some reason.” He sighs. He moves closer again.

Kinda straight forward, no?

“What…huh?! WAIT WHAT?” you manage to stammer out. Floyd nods along to your words with an unimpressed look.

“I like you.”

“I heard you the first time!”

“Do you like me?”

“Ok…well…no! Wait…maybe? Yes? How do I even answer that right away?!” You’re freaking out and he’s enjoying it.

His smirk widens again and he laughs at you…this guy.

“See? Silly Shrimpy…” his arms lace back around you and his face is right in front of yours again.

Without taking anything else into consideration, Floyd pushes his lips against yours.

You don’t move, you don’t try and push him away, and out of all the times Floyd has ever given you a chance to stop him in any of his acts, you could tell this moment was one of them. His eyes are still locked onto yours, lidded and a smirk forming, gaging your reaction. His arms barely touch your body, giving you a chance to get the fuck out if you’d want to. But you don’t move away. You push your lips against his more and you flutter your eyes closed. Floyd takes the hint and he holds you again, though this time, it’s gentle.

After a moment you both pull away, a goofy grin across his face. “Hmmmm…” he giggles, “I feel a lot better now, Shrimpy. See? I’m bored now…cmon, let’s go somewhere and ditch that stupid work Azul’s got us doing…”

So! Wasn’t the best, yes, I know, but it’s something…

Also I feel like some parts from my courting fic for Floyd wiggled its way in here—

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)