#« self › take me somewhere there’s music & laughter.

[luveline]

Omg I love the hot bombshell bau reader x Spencer!! Could you write a scenario with them when the team is out drinking and she’s flirting with him even more & she can take it a lil further because they’re not in work? Thank you🥰

thank you for your request! this isn't a perfect fit of what you asked for but I hope you like it! fem!reader, 1k

"Psst! Psst!" Your perfume floats his way. "Spencer!" 

Spencer turns to your whisper shouting, much less whisper than you probably mean it to be. You're as in his personal space as you can manage without falling into his lap. Luckily, the rest of the team seem to be more interested in the previously unheard story Emily's deigned to tell about a Sin to Win weekend in Atlanta, and no one turns to investigate your secret.

"What?" he asks.

"Can you get me another drink?" you whisper. You insisted on sitting next to him, your breath sharp with cherry liqueur. If you hadn't, he would've tried to make it this way anyhow.

It's not fair. You've drunk enough to get cut off and still you look so pretty, bombshell through and through —there's no other word for it. Your eyes are glittering and unsmudged despite an evening of laughter and a pitcher's worth of bourbon bombs, and they're looking at him with this weird pinching pleading that makes his stomach twist. 

"I don't think you should have anything else." 

"Spence…" You put your hand on his thigh. Not cupping it, nowhere inappropriate, just your fingertips pressed to the fabric of his pants as you twist in your seat to beg. "Please, Spencer. Please." 

He really likes you, and this tone you're using threatens to haunt him forever. Resigned, he moves your hand off of his leg and grabs your empty glasses. "A spritzer," he says, standing up from the booth. "That's it." 

"Hey, no," JJ says, her thin brows pinching as she smiles, perplexed. "She's cut off." 

"That's why Spencer's going to get it for me. He's my angel," you brag, words tipping, tumbling all over the place. 

Spencer looks at the disapproving expressions on their faces, Hotch, Emily, Derek and JJ all looking as though they learned how to frown from the same place. Only Penelope and Rossi seem encouraging. Penelope tipsy herself, and Rossi a self-professed believer in, "Living life to the fullest. Get the girl another drink, Reid." 

"A spritzer," Spencer says again. 

You smile gleefully and follow him out of your seats toward the bar. The barkeep gives Spencer a knowing look when he orders your drink but doesn't say anything when Spencer puts the change in the tip jar, which is questionable. Spencer secures your cold beverage and hands it to you, fully intending on walking you back to the booth. 

You pull him off course. He has little power in the situation, a yelp and a yank and you're dragging him toward the bar jukebox. Your spritzer paints your hand as you put it down, lips wet with it as you beam at him from over your shoulder. 

"Pick a song?" you ask. 

"I don't know if they'll have anything I like." 

"Pick one anyways." 

Spencer has to stand directly behind you to read the titles. "Why don't you pick one?" he asks gently. 

You sway. He doesn't know if it's down to the alcohol or the five seconds of music that plays as you scroll through songs. "I don't have a dollar."

Spencer laughs and gets his wallet out, handing you two dollars from the fold. "There. Pick two." 

"You're such a nice guy, Spencer, and I don't mean it like, oh, you're a nice guy, you don't mess girls around, I mean…" You fold the dollars he gave you mindlessly. "I mean, you're just nice. In the best sense of the word. You're gentle, kind…" 

You gasp, sounding pained. Spencer's hand leaps to the small of your back, "What? What's wrong?" 

"They have Out of Touch by Hall and Oates. Hold my spritzer, handsome, I need to put this on before I die." 

Derek comes looking for you both somewhere in the second play of the same song. Spencer's cheeks are bright pink, people staring in confusion at the repeat and the pretty drunk woman speaking the words. Spencer tries to flag Derek for saving, but when Derek sees the way you've wrapped your arms around Spencer's bicep, he chuckles and waves goodbye. 

You look up to Spencer eagerly. You're close enough to kiss him. "You know how to play nine ball?" 

"In theory," he says weakly. 

"Good! If I win you can buy me another spritzer, and if you win, I'll let you take me home." 

Spencer was always going to be taking you home tonight, but for a distinctly different reason. "If you win," he says, licking his lips, "I'll give you another dollar for the jukebox." 

"And if you win?" you ask.

"I'll take you home," he says slowly. "But only to take you home." 

"That's cute." 

No matter what drunken delusion you're under, Spencer does end up taking you home after a third round of Hall and Oates. You're not so drunk as to need help standing, and you manage to get to bed without help. He just wants to make sure you lock the door. 

You kiss him on the cheek, your hand behind his neck like you might turn his lips to yours. Spencer turns his face away. 

"I'm not gonna try anything, Spence," you say, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just wanted to say thanks. You'll stay, right? Don't get the train." 

Spencer sleeps on your couch. In the morning he wakes to the smell of eggs fried in sesame oil and the heavy scent of hot chocolate. Oh, and you in your tiny pyjama shorts at the helm, completely untouched by the copious booze intake of the night before. "Loverboy," you sing-song. "Come on! I'm gonna sit in your lap and feed you like a Grecian emperor. It'll be fun." 

It'll definitely be something. 

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirtling skills part 10.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

Levi must have been too confident in his self-defense capabilities to agree to go somewhere unfamiliar, possibly inside a house he hadn’t been to before, and, overall, without telling anyone. He considered it a perk of being an Ackerman; there was no chance that anything happening there could be a real threat.

That, and thanks to his Ackerman powers, he was irreplaceable to the Scouts. Erwin was not going to be pleased when he realized Levi had disappeared in the middle of the event.

‘I know I have good judgment,’

But the moment they stepped foot into the bustling city, where the cobblestone streets were alive with the energy of the king’s coronation, she seized the opportunity. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she gripped the collar of his suit and pulled him into a kiss. Her lips met his with a fierce passion, and before he could react, she had backed herself against the cool brick wall, dragging him with her. 

He could taste the faint sweetness of the coctails on her lips as she tugged him closer, her hands fisting the fabric of his suit's collar. That goodjugement had abandoned him the second he could finally feel her lips against his. Levi’s breath hitched at the sudden intensity, his mind momentarily blank as he responded to the kiss, his hands instinctively finding her waist. The noise of the festival, the laughter, and the music all faded into the background. All that mattered was the feeling of her lips against his, the warmth of her body pressed to his. 

Under anyother occasion, Levi would have minded to be tongue kissing someone at a random hallways in the middle of a festival. But when his hands could finally trace the cruve of her hips as they moved from her waist to her hips, nothing else mattered. It felt like any of the fantaises he had envisoned under a steamy shower or trying to relax a bit after work on his desk, finally between his hands. 

Sweeter than he anticipated, softer. He groaned against her lips as one hand moved to the back of her head to push her closer, frowning while trying to take her breath away. But as he was trying to push closer, he felt her grin on her lips. 

But just as quickly as it had begun, she broke away. A spark danced in her eyes, mischievous and daring, and for a second, he caught a glimpse of what felt like a challenge. She didn't say a word—didn't need to. She slipped from his grasp like smoke, a laugh bubbling past her lips, leaving him with a sudden rush of cold air where her warmth had been. 

‘What the hell?’ 

“Oi!” Levi shouted but her words dissapeared on the waves of people. 

He watched her dart into the crowd, her laughter trailing behind her, almost swallowed by the swell of the festival-goers. For a moment, Levi was still. He could sense every heartbeat, every movement around him—the push and pull of bodies in the crowd, the distant shouts of vendors, the rhythmic beat of drums further down the street. His instincts screamed at him to stay put, to remain in control. 

“Tch,” With a low, resigned growl, he pushed off the wall, his sharp gaze honing in on the trail she left. “She got me chasing her around since day one,” At this rate, he was talking to himself, cursing under his breath. He’d make her pay for that little stunt. And he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. His shoes barely made a sound on the cobblestones as he weaved through the crowd, his movements swift and precise, honed by years of maneuvering through much more dangerous places. 

She was quick, he’d give her that—slipping between groups of revelers, vanishing behind a cluster of stalls only to reappear further ahead. He caught flashes of her in the flickering lantern light: the glint of her hair, the swirl of her skirt. She was leading him somewhere. Somewhere specific. 

As soon as their eyes met, she flashed him a teasing smile that seemed to say, if you can. Levi's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. She was baiting him, and damn it, he was taking it. ‘When I caught you...’ 

He picked up the pace, his footsteps echoing off the cobblestones, his focus sharpening as the noise of the festival fell away. 

The alley was dark, lit only by the occasional flickering lantern. He was close now—he could feel it. And then, he saw her. She stood at the entrance of an apartment building, her back pressed against the door, watching him with that same playful glint in her eyes. She waited until he was just a breath away before slipping inside. 

But the moment he reached for her, she slipped through the door and slammed it shut right in his face. He could hear the muffled sound of her laughter through the heavy wood. 

“Y/N!” He scoffed out her name as both of their faces were inches away, only the fusing glass of the front door separating them.  

"If you're such a good thug, break in before I reach my floor." 

Levi's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of disbelief and a grudging admiration. She was pushing every one of his buttons, but he'd be damned if he let her win this round. His lips curled into a smirk—she wanted a challenge, and she'd get one 

“Damn it,” he began to search inside his suit something that he always carried with him, no matter where he went. Old habits died hard. Pulling out an army small knife, frowning as he placed the tool between the lock and the frame of the door. Knowing  too damn well how to break in. 

‘You are lucky I’m in a good mood, I would have fucking kicked the door in,’ 

‘I’m already winning your neighbour’s favour,’ 

There wasn’t a door in this damn city he couldn’t get through if he put his mind to it. As he twisted the knob around, he smirked to himself, “Holy fuck, I’m hard,” 

Levi worked swiftly, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he slipped the blade into the narrow gap. The click of the lock was faint, almost lost to the revelry outside, but it was music to his ears. His smirk deepened as the door yielded to him with a soft creak. 

'Too easy,' he thought, slipping the knife back into his pocket with a flick of his wrist. He pushed the door open just wide enough to slip through, his movements as fluid as a shadow. Inside, the stairwell loomed before him, dimly lit by a single bulb that flickered weakly overhead. 

Black metal railing, marbel steps. He glanced up, already catching the faint sound of her footsteps as she ascended the stairs.  Only to see her already halfway up the staircase, glancing back at him over her shoulder with widened eyes. She hadn't expected him to be so fast, not like this. The little squeak of surprise she left out that echoed throught the empty walls that late at night made him smirk. 

‘Well... isn’t it fucking cute?’ seeing how she tried to rush on in her stilleto while he bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time, his hand sliding along the railing for balance with the calmness of a cat that knows its playing with its prey since their chances of running away are thin. Her nervous laughter echoed down the stairwell, a siren's call urging him to keep pace, to push faster. 

Her feet barely touched the steps as she darted upwards, her breath quickening in time with her hurried ascent. But Levi was on her heels, his presence looming like a shadow that she couldn't shake. Before she could reach for her door, his hand shot out, not rough but unyielding, catching her by the arm and pulling her back with an ease. 

With a swift motion, he hoisted her up, slinging her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. She let out a startled yelp, her legs kicking in a half-hearted protest as her fists pounded lightly against his back. Levi held her firmly, his grip unbreakable as he ascended the last steps, his breath steady despite the exertion. 

“What the hell, Levi!” she gasped, trying to twist around to get a better look at him, but his hold was secure, Her struggles against his shoulder were little more than a nuisance. Her puffy skirt bunched up awkwardly against his shoulder, revealing the frilly white can-can underneath, a flash of fabric that contrasted innocently against the dark maroon shade of her dress. 

“Shhh,” he chided softly, a teasing lilt in his tone. “You’re going to wake up your posh neighbors.” His voice was low, almost a purr. 

She huffed in exasperation, her attempts to free herself growing weaker. “You’re going to make my cats sneak out!” she protested, her voice tinged with genuine concern as they approached the front door of her apartment. 

Levi glanced down at the keys still clutched in her hand, then smoothly plucked them from her grasp with a deftness that made her gasp. “Don’t worry, girly,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “I’ve got hands for everything.” 

He reached the door, her body still slung over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. With a flick of his wrist, he slotted the key into the lock, twisting it with practiced ease. 

The apartment was in complete darkness as he slap the door close with a kick, making sure that the three animals that were coming over while stretching their paws in the air were  safetily inside. Trying to not step in any of them, swinging around an unknown place, Levi reached the livingroom and let her fall on the couch. 

She landed on the couch with a soft thud, her hair fanning out in wild disarray, and before she could even catch her breath, Levi was already on top of her. His movements were swift and unrelenting, like a predator finally claiming its prey after a long hunt. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow seeping in through the gaps in the curtains, casting shadows that danced across the walls. 

Her cats darted around, curious but cautious. One peeked at them from over the table, while another ran back to a room, petrified after realizing there was an unknown presence in the house. The last one began to scratch at the glass of the balcony door, begging to be let outside. Maybe on another occasion, Levi would have minded having a pair of eyes watching them so intently. 

But at that moment the only thing crossing his mind was how jis knees dug into the cushions between her legs, pinning her in place. Sliding them apart to get a steady possition. The smirk that had never quite left his lips deepened, dark eyes scanning her flushed face, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. 

“Finally, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, vibrating with barely contained desire. His gaze roamed over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts. “An entire year wet dreaming about this moment,” he added, his tone dripping with the raw honesty of a man who’s spent far too many nights haunted by the thought of her, of this. 

Once her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted up to connect their lips, Levi didn’t need a second invitation. He leaned down, capturing her lips with a fervor that left no room for second thoughts. The kiss was searing, their mouths colliding with a desperate, almost bruising intensity. The sound of their smacking kiss against eachother echoed in the empty apartment and mixed with the continous insistance of the cat scratching the glass. 

Levi's lips moved with a fierce urgency, each kiss growing hungrier than the last, as if he were trying to make up for all the nights he had spent fantasizing about this exact moment. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there was nothing but the press of their bodies and the heat building between them. He groaned softly against her mouth, his hands roaming her sides, his grip firm yet controlled. 

His hands eagerly moved backward, searching for the zipper of her dress. He fumbled for a moment, then managed to locate it and began to pull it down. 

“Ah—” she moaned softly, both of their hair turning into a mess. She broke the kiss with a chuckle. “Slow down, Soldier,” she teased as he was already trying to undress her hastily. 

“Slow down? You got me chasing you around Mitras like an idiot,” he groaned, finally breaking the kiss as he threw his jacket off. Slightly sitting up, she gripped his face while they shared a sloppy kiss. This made it easier for him to start rolling down the upper part of her dress, and soon he was kissing her collarbones, descending to the valley of her breasts. 

The cat’s loud meows and persistent pawing were impossible to ignore, creating a background symphony that contrasted sharply with their passionate encounter. 

Levi's desire only intensified, his body responding to the heat of her skin pressed against his. He could feel his cock pulsing against the tight fabric of his trousers. “Mh—” she hummed, a mix of a moan and a giggle, as his hands moved to knead one of her breasts covered by sheer black lingerie that did little to hide her hardened nipples. 

She mumbled something, but Levi was too focused on how soft her breast felt against his hands, how their bodies pressed together, grinding against each other through their clothes. “Levi—” Her soft moans urged him on, but there was a hint of urgency in her voice that he barely registered. 

“Levi, wait,” she panted, pushing lightly against his chest. Levi groaned in exasperation as she created space between them. Her chest felt cold from the saliva he left behind after sucking the inner part of her breast. The cat’s scratching at the glass persisted, growing louder and more demanding. “You got condoms, right?” she said between breaths, feeling his hardness pressing against her. 

Levi, already trying to resume the kiss, initially looked confused as his mind struggled to focus on anything other than continuing. “Right?” she insisted, slightly irritated. 

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, finally processing the question. “They’re in my jacket’s pocket,” 

“Levi,” she panted again, a hint of laughter bubbling in her voice as she turned her head to the side. “Open the balcony door. The cat wants out.” 

Levi blinked, momentarily thrown by the mundane request that felt worlds away from the heated moment they were in. His gaze flicked over to the fat ginger cat, its small paws scratching insistently at the glass of the balcony door, meowing in protest. 

Levi growled softly, his forehead resting against hers. “Seriously? Now?” His frustration was evident, but he didn’t hesitate. With a sigh, he shifted off her, his knee still pressed between her legs as he reached for the balcony door over’s the couch’s back. The city’s noise poured into the room as he slid the door open, letting the cool night air and the eager cat outside. The feline slipped past them with a flick of its tail, clearly satisfied. 

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.” 

Levi just shook his head, leaning back down to capture her lips once more. His lips found their way to her neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down her spine, his hands resuming their exploration. Her hands traced his chest, moving down to his groin, and gripped him over his clothes. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, breaking their kiss as they both panted against each other's faces. He frowned deeply, gritting his teeth as she moved her hand up and down over his trousers. 

“I want to taste you, Cap,” she purred, their faces only inches apart. 

The mischievous grin on her face was driving him crazy. ‘Where have you been my entire life?’ 

“What a good girl, asking for permission,” his husky voice murmured as one of his hands traced her thigh beneath her skirt, crumpling it up. He gave her thigh a good squeeze before smacking it lightly. “Go on, get on your knees and work for me.” 

“Ngh!” she faked a complaint before grinning and slowly descending onto the couch. Her hands unbuckled his trousers, slowly lifting up his shirt. 

He caught a glimpse of her eyes, enhanced by the makeup she wore for the party, looking up at him before she began to kiss the bottom of his stomach, tracing his happy trail. 

‘Holy fuck—okay, asshole, think of the entire Scouts’ formation for the upcoming expedition,’ his mind scrambled to count names as he tried to make sure he wouldn’t finish just from seeing her between his legs. Head thrown back, ready to enjoy it all, a faint voice from the street caught their attention. 

It made her stop momentarily as the voice became more familiar. Levi’s eyes opened to see what was going on. His hand moved to caress her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail, trying to get back into the moment as she hesitantly returned. 

Then again, this time she straining to hear.  Her roommate's voice, calling out her name, barely audible over the closed windows and din of the celebration. 

‘No— No fucking way,’ Levi packed as he reached downwards trying to suck the sweet spot on the crook of her neck, luring her back on it. 

“Levi, wait—” she started, her voice faltering as he nipped playfully at her ear, his fingers skimming the hem of her dress. 

“Just ignore it,” he murmured against her skin, his tone edged with frustration. “They’ll go away.” 

‘God... you’ve given me the worst fucking luck my entire life. You’ve never played in my favour, not even when I was a little kid. Please, for fuck’s sake, make her say that we can keep going if we stay quiet. I’m begging you; I’ll turn into a believer.’ 

But the voice outside grew louder, more insistent. Her roommate was talking to someone, and the words filtered up through the open balcony, catching their attention. 

“She’s just up there,” the roommate was saying, sounding exasperated. “Her cat’s on the balcony; she’s definitely home.” 

Levi froze, his eyes narrowing in irritation. Her eyes widened in realization, and she quickly pushed Levi away, sitting up to re-adjust her dress. “Levi, my friends,” she said, smoothing down her hair as she stood up and rushed her way. 

Levi’s brows furrowed, his jaw clenched in a silent battle of annoyance and reluctant understanding. He watched as she moved to the balcony, sliding the door open and leaning over the railing to see her roommate below, standing next to another friend who looked worse for wear, slumped and swaying. 

‘I’ve never hated an animal so fucking much in my entire life,’ he half-closed his eyes in pure hatred as he watched the fat male cat swagger back into the flat once the door opened. ‘Just because they cut your balls off and you don’t have fun anymore doesn’t mean you have to cockblock me too, you little shit.’ 

Levi let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat back on the couch. 

“I’ll be right down!” she called, then turned to Levi with a concerned look on her face. “My friend’s not feeling well. I need to help them get inside.” 

‘I really gotta be the man with the worst luck inside the walls,’ 

Levi’s jaw tightened; the disappointment clear in his narrowed gaze. 

“You can’t be serious,” he said, a mix of disbelief and resignation lacing his words. “Now?” 

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for just a moment before pulling back. “Don’t give me that look,” she teased, grabbing her keys from the table. “Come on,” she said softly, pleading with her eyes “I need you to help carry her. Please?” 

Levi rubbed the back of his neck, muttering under his breath, the thrill of their earlier encounter replaced by a twinge of reluctant responsibility. He cast one last glance at her, taking in the way her cheeks still held a faint flush, and her hair was slightly dishevelled. For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he exhaled sharply, giving a small nod. 

“Fine,” he grumbled as he put his trousers and shirt back on, trying to hide his erection by tucking it behind his belt. 

She moved quickly, her steps light but purposeful, and he kept pace behind her, his eyes still lingering on the curve of her hips as she descended. ‘I could have those riding me but no...’ 

As they reached the ground floor, she pushed open the heavy door to the street, and the cool night air rushed in. 

Her roommate stood there, trying to steady their friend who was leaning heavily against the brick wall, her face pale and eyes glazed. The moment her roommate spotted Levi, her eyes widened slightly in surprise. 

“Were you two... uh, did I interrupt something?” the ginger girl asked, glancing between Levi and Y/N. 

‘No... I’m here at 3 am without my jacket on because I got nothing better to do,’ 

Before Levi could respond, Y/N shot him a sharp look, silently warning him to keep quiet. She forced a smile, masking her embarrassment. “Nah, we just arrived. Levi was just walking me home,” she said, her voice firm and reassuring. 

Levi moved past them without a word, approaching the brunette who looked moments away from collapsing. He crouched slightly, slipping one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly. The friend groaned softly, her head lolling against his shoulder as he adjusted his grip, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. 

Her roommate, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill, leaned in closer, her voice low and tinged with anxiety. “I think someone spiked our drinks,” she whispered, her gaze darting nervously around. “I’m not feeling great either, but the hospitals are packed with all the celebrations going on. I figured we could just get home—we’ve got what we need, you know?” 

She nodded, concern creasing her brow.  “Yeah, makes sense,” she replied softly, glancing up at Levi as they ascended the stairs. 

As they walked, her roommate gave her a sideways glance, her curiosity piqued. “So... what are you guys doing here?” 

“The party was boring,” she lied, shrugging casually. “Levi was just walking me home.” 

Levi shot her a glance over his shoulder. ‘There goes my chances of getting a blow job.’ 

The brunette lay on the couch they had once been on, while the ginger was getting a glass of cold water since she wasn’t feeling well either. Y/N rushed around, trying to take their blood pressure and get a handle on the situation. 

“Thank you, you’re a saint,” the ginger said quietly, clearly not feeling well herself. 

‘Yeah, well... maybe I should start being an asshole, because being a saint hasn’t exactly helped me empty my balls,’ 

“Tch, nothing to thank,” he replied. 

Eventually, Y/N walked him to the front door once again. “Sorry... well, at least you’ll have a reason to come back from the expedition,” she teased him as he lingered at the front of her building with an annoyed stare. She leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the lips. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll think of you tonight,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“Can I stay by and watch while you do?” he said, half joking, half serious. She scoffed, entertained, and gave him one last peck. 

“Get home safe, Lev.” 

As the door he had broken into not long ago shut in his face, he clicked his tongue and frowned in defeat. “Ow…” 

‘Maybe if I stay here and start scratching at it insistently... she’ll open up for me... like the cat.’ 

(Sorry for the delay, I had been very sick. Going back to the doctor all the time and I couldn't post it on time. Hope you can forgive me T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[marlynnofmany]

Faceoff

Ever get cognitive whiplash going from one group of aliens to another? You’d think I’d be used to the variety since I’ve spent so much time bopping around the galaxy, but some things just catch you by surprise.

It was a simple difference. I’d been talking with my smallest crewmates while we walked into the space station, trying not to loom over anybody or step on a tentacle in close quarters. The hallway between our corner of the docks and the central concourse was a narrow one. Then Coals realized he’d left something on the ship, and Paint volunteered to go back with him to help find it, and Mimi took a side corridor off to the public bathrooms, with a comment about checking how the local mechanics handled sanitization fields.

It’s possible that he even meant that. As long as he didn’t steal any parts for our ship, I was more than happy to let the octopus alien’s bathroom time be his own business.

I was thinking that, still slouching a bit after waving goodbye to Paint, when I turned a corner and was suddenly the smallest person around.

Hulking shapes in scales and space suits filled my vision, clustered near the entrance with no way to see past, much less wriggle by. I hadn’t heard the voices over the chatter of the crowd that had to be out there somewhere, and the ambient music. (Something with drums. Much better than the leg-singing screeches from the last station we visited. At any rate, it was loud.)

I stopped in my tracks and straightened up, glad I hadn’t slammed into the broad back in front of me. The spacesuited individual wasn’t even looking, and neither were the other two next to him. (Her? No idea.) I couldn’t see the faces from where I was standing, just the burly, hunched shoulders, and the short reptilian tail. Smashers, that was the name for these guys. I’d never been on the receiving end of their disapproval, and I wasn’t about to start.

The raised voices got louder. I peeked past a giant elbow to see that some scaly members of this huddle seemed to be facing off with the Smashers.

Uh oh. The scaly guys were Armorlites. While most races that I’d met were likely to take the threat of a good smashing and back away, Armorlites never backed away from anything, even (especially) if it was a good idea. Not that I would speak ill of any intelligent race’s common sense, mind you. It’s just that after a few run-ins with these frat house dinosaurs, I had something of an opinion about their skills in diplomacy.

Picture a T-rex with good arms and bad self-preservation sense, baring his teeth at someone roughly his own height, who’s wearing a space suit and speaking in the deepest of voices that makes the very air vibrate. I’d honestly thought it was part of the music, an instrument I didn’t recognize.

But no. It was threats.

“You think you can just claim a table here without paying your respects?”

The Armorlite in front waggled his claws. “We can claim anything we want. You should be respecting me!”

“You’ve got to earn respect, blunt-fang.”

Those were definitely fighting words, and I was concerned. I hopped in place, trying to peek around the meat slab blockade to see if the station had any kind of security forces nearby. No luck. And with the music thumping away, I couldn’t tell what reactions the people on the other side were having to this confrontation.

Just as I turned to rush back down the corridor, the group broke out into sudden movement, all of them lunging and dodging. I watched over my shoulder for a couple of steps, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Were the Smashers aiming to head-butt the Armorlites with their face shields? Those things weren’t rated for combat. Unless they were. Or —

Unless they were dancing instead.

I stopped dead as the laughter registered in my brain. The two groups were having an honest-to-goodness dance-off next to the food court, and that had been the plan from the start.

“You’ve gotten slow, with footwork like that! I thought this would be a challenge!”

“I’ll show you a challenge! Stand back with your short tail, and let a real expert show you how it’s done!”

“Oh, a real expert? Did you bring one with you?”

The trash talk and deep-voiced chuckles blended with the music while the crowd of giants stomped and jumped and spun. They moved away from the entrance a bit so they’d have room to properly cut a rug, and I caught glimpses of many staring faces at a safe distance. Not a single security officer was among them. Several recording devices were, though.

I edged back in their direction, cautious of flying elbows, and sidled along close to the wall. A cluster of Frillians moved aside to let me escape, busy as they were with filming the dance battle and also laughing about it. They were on the tall side for their own species, but downright spindly compared to the dancers.

Once past, I took a deep breath. I’d reached the food court. Nice to see that it was populated by a range of species, all of whom were going about their day as if this kind of nonsense happened all the time here.

I stood tall and set out to find some human food. There was bound to be someplace that carried Earth cuisine — likely mixed together in bizarre combinations that no Earthling would have done on purpose, but little surprises are a way of life out here.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ getting high with dealer!rafe

warnings: drug use, swearing, a tad nsfw. (possible confusion over drug terminology, for example; ‘backdrop’ is the build up you get in the back of your throat after sniffing cocaine)

summary: y/n gets high with dealer!rafe at a party.

perspiration apparent on his forehead as the room filled with bodies, music booming as the people around him swayed. rafe sat on the couch in the basement of the house, a couple dozen packets of white powder spread across the table in front of him. blocking out obnoxious laughter, he scanned the room, cocaine paranoia kicking in a bit. the ceiling above him creaked here and there, the vast amount of people upstairs threatened to break the floorboards.

unbeknownst to him, sarah had invited a couple of her friends to his party, including y/n. a girl so sweet and kind to the people around her it almost made him sick to his stomach. she was somewhat of a hidden gem in the outerbanks, doing well in school, keeping to her self and so on. y/n was everything rafe cameron wasn’t, yet this intrigued him. the urge to corrupt his sisters friend grew each time she visited the cameron household.

“just stay for a little while y/n, please? for me?” sarah pleaded with her friend, desperate to crack the shell around her. sighing, y/n glanced from the lemonade in her cup to her friend. recognising the look in her eyes, sarah squealed and wrapped her arms around the girl. “thank you! i promise we’ll have fun!”

battling the thoughts in her head, y/n decided against fleeing the scene and returning home to her books, wanting to please her friend.

linking arms, sarah and y/n moved to the makeshift dance floor that the party-goers had created in the living room. giggling to eachother, the girls swayed in sync with the music, swirling around eachother.

“sarah..” y/n feigned a concerned look “no! please don’t leave yet! we just started having fun!” chuckling at this, y/n grabbed the cup from sarah’s hand, stealing a sip.

sarah’s eyes lit up “oh my gosh! do you want your own?” she asked, silently begging her to say yes. y/n nodded, laughing as her friend dragged her through the crowd.

reaching the kitchen island, sarah stared at the copious amounts of alcohol in front of her, trying to work out what y/n would like.

“how about this?” sarah turned, holding out a bottle of vodka for y/n to inspect. her face twisted a bit, unsure until sarah spoke again “I can add in some lemonade, and maybe some juice to mask the taste?” face untwisting, y/n agreed with her, reaching for her new drink.

y/n felt overly daring tonight, something about actually staying at a party for more than thirty minutes made her see what she was missing out on.

three vodkas with juice and lemonade down, she started feeling a little buzzed, and a bit too dizzy to keep up with the whirling bodies around her. “hey sarah? im going to go find somewhere to sit down for a little while” y/n called, taking off once she received a nod.

reaching the upstairs hallway, y/n looked around at the numerous doors, her mind was too fuzzy to make out which room was her friends. taking a chance, she opened the door furthest left and shut it behind her. she made her way to the neatly made bed, perching on the edge as she let herself get lost in thought.

back in the basement, rafe stood up from his spot on the couch, looking over the now empty table. he’d made quite a bit of profit that night, despite having kept some to himself. slipping the wad of cash into his pocket, he pushed through the sweaty bodies, heading for his room.

before heading upstairs, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. “rafe, have you seen y/n?” his brows furrowed as he looked at his sister. “y/n’s here?” sarah huffed at his unhelpful answer. “yes, obviously. she was a bit buzzed and went to sit somewhere, now i can’t find her!” rafe nodded at sarah and let her know he’d keep an eye out.

the stoic look on his face was wiped away when he found y/n sat on the edge of his bed upon entering his room. jumping slightly, her eyes widened at the sight of her friends brother. “oh, is this your room?, im so sorry!” she panicked, having heard things about rafe’s temperament. shaking his head, he moved towards her slowly.

“nah, it’s all good princess, y’alright?” y/n’s face flushed slightly at the nickname, not that she wasn’t used to it, but it always got to her.

rafe’s growing interest in his sisters friend had provoked him to become more flirty whenever she was around. “um, yeah im fine, thank you..” y/n smiled sweetly, unintentionally batting her lashes as she did. smirking, rafe sat down on the opposite side of the bed, resting against the wooden headboard.

“too much to drink huh?” chuckling lowly as she nodded. “well, i’ got something that could help if you want it..” rafe reached into his bedside drawer, stuffing the money from his pocket inside before rummaging around underneath some magazines.

y/n looked on at him curiously, waiting for the miracle to be revealed. pulling his arm back out, her face dropped as he held out a half empty packet in front of her.

“i-is that..” she stuttered, “coke?” rafe sat up, pushing some loose hairs behind her ear. “you don’t gotta do it if you don’t want to, it’ll help though” he stated, carefully opening the small bag and poured some on the top side of his thumb. y/n watched rafe as he lifted his hand, sniffing the small bump up his nostril.

“well princess? what’s it gonna be?” he asked. concentration painted her face as she considered it. “i-uh, if I do, would you promise to never say a word?” she questioned him, worried he’d tell his sister.

sarah often made it her mission to keep rafe away from y/n, knowing him well enough to identify his intentions. y/n knew it wouldn’t go down well if sarah found out she was in rafe’s with him, never mind sniffing cocaine.

“your secrets safe with me baby” shuffling towards her, he tipped out another bump onto his thumb and held out his hand. y/n’s breath quickened as she wrapped a hand around his wrist, keeping it steady.

her mind was racing. what about this? what about that? glancing up at his expectant eyes, she quickly pinched her other nostril closed and went for it.

sniffing up as hard as she could, rafe quickly reached for her. “tip your head back a bit..” holding the back of her neck gently, “and sniff up again” he instructed. y/n rested her head in rafe’s palm, doing as he said.

as she brought her head back, a sound of disgust left her throat as mucus began to build up. “that’s just the backdrop baby, here, i’ll get you a drink”

returning from his ensuite, he handed her a glass of water which she quickly accepted, desperate to get rid of the lingering taste of gasoline in her mouth. “how do you do that? that tastes awful” she frowned, making a mental note to never do that again. “it’s about the feeling princess, you get used to the taste”

checking her phone, a quiet gasp slipped from her lips. it was so late, her parents were probably wondering where she was. “shit rafe, i need to get home” swiftly, y/n jumped from the bed, making her way to the door.

“woah! not so fast y/n, you can’t go home like that” rafe called, stopping her in her tracks. “like what?” he gestured towards the mirror on her left, watching as she stepped in front of it.

“oh my god…” y/n muttered, unsure of who she was looking at as a girl with pupils like saucers stared back at her. “what am i gonna do?” she almost cried, there was no way her parents could see her like this.

“stay the night” rafe said calmly, a little too calm for y/n’s liking. she looked at him like he’d suggested they go to the moon or something. “are you crazy? sarah would kill me!” rafe’s lips turned up into yet another smirk.

“so what?”

[xxspringmelodyxx]

𝒮𝒾𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓁~

┗━━━━━━⊱ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅. 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓: 𝒂 𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈��𝒕, 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉, 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅. ⊰━━━━━━┛ ⊱ 𝒘𝒄: 1.2𝒌 ⊰

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ˚❀˚·⋆✿

The tavern was alive with energy as you and Thoma joined the celebration of Aether’s victory over Signora. The room was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Venti was dancing on tables, his usual composed self completely lost in his drunken state, while Childe flirted openly with a group of giggling girls in the corner. The joy in the room was contagious, and you and Ayaka found yourselves caught up in the fun, listening to Amber's funny, slurred stories.

"So then hiccup the man started to sing. It went something like hiccup this. One eye open when I’m sleep- hiccup -ing. One eyeeeeeee! It was so f-funny," Amber giggled, swaying unsteadily.

Ayaka and you exchanged amused glances, trying not to laugh. "Amber, sweetie, I think you've had enough to drink," you said gently, taking her drink away. Amber pouted, trying to grab it back.

"N-No! I want... more..." she protested, losing her balance and falling off the high chair. "T-That... didn’t hurt," she giggled again.

Ayaka sighed with a smile, helping Amber to her feet. "I'll be right back, N/n. I'm going to take Amber to Kaeya so he can watch her while we enjoy the party," she said, guiding Amber away.

"No~ I can still party..." Amber mumbled, her voice trailing off as she passed out.

You chuckled and returned to your drink, enjoying a moment of peace. The warmth of the tavern and the sound of laughter made you feel content and at ease. However, your peace was soon interrupted when an older man came up next to you. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol as he leaned in closer. "Hello there, pretty lady. What's a beauty like you doing here all alone?" he slurred.

"Enjoying some alone time," you replied shortly, moving away from him. He didn't take the hint and moved even closer.

"Aww, come on, missy. I don't bite... unless you want me to," he winked, his grin making your skin crawl.

Feeling more and more uncomfortable, you told him to leave you alone, but he just chuckled darkly. "You know you like it. Now, why don't we go somewhere more private," he said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

"I have a fiancé, and trust me, you don't want to see him when he's mad," you said firmly, trying to find Thoma in the crowd. Spotting him with Ayato and Aether, you began to move towards him, but the man's presence loomed behind you. He grabbed your hand, trying to pull you back.

"Are you threatening me, darling?" he sneered, his grip tightening.

You pulled your hand free with a quick yank and hurried to Thoma's side. He greeted you with a warm smile, "Hello, dear. Are you having fun?" he asked, kissing your forehead. Sensing your distress, his expression turned serious as he wrapped his arm around you protectively.

As the man approached, you squeezed Thoma's hand twice, the familiar signal that conveyed so much. Thoma immediately stopped laughing and turned to see the problem. His eyes followed your gaze to the drunken man stumbling towards you, and his protective instincts kicked in.

Thoma's grip on you tightened as he positioned himself between you and the approaching threat. "Hello, sir. Can I help you?" Thoma asked, his voice calm but laced with an underlying warning.

The man glared, his confidence fading. "I-I am good... now move. I need to talk to that bitch behind you," he spat, his hand reaching out towards you.

Thoma's eyes narrowed, and in one swift motion, he grabbed the man's wrist with a vice-like grip, twisting it just enough to cause pain without breaking it. "That woman is my fiancée," Thoma said, his voice low and deadly serious. "If you ever call her anything disrespectful or try to touch her again, you'll regret it."

The man's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to free his wrist from Thoma's iron grip. "Let go of me, you psycho!" he hissed, his earlier arrogance replaced by panic.

Thoma leaned in closer, his face inches from the man's. "You need to leave. Now. Before I lose my patience," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying a clear threat.

The man's bravado crumbled completely. "Alright, alright! I'm going!" he yelped, trying to pull away.

With a final, forceful twist, Thoma released the man's wrist, sending him stumbling backward. "Take him out of here," Thoma ordered the nearby guards, who quickly moved in to escort the man out.

As the man was dragged away, he shot one last fearful glance at Thoma, who stood tall and resolute, his protective stance unwavering. The room had fallen silent, the other patrons watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

Thoma's body remained tense with residual anger, but he began to relax as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder blade. He looked down at your hands, his fingers gently playing with the ring that symbolized your engagement. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, the tension easing from his body.

Hearing your giggle, Thoma turned to face you, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I'm sorry I interrupted your fun," you said, a hint of guilt in your voice as you looked up at him.

"You could never do such a thing, my love. Besides, I'm glad you let me know. It felt good to put that man in his place," he chuckled, kissing your forehead with a mix of relief and affection.

"Thank you for protecting me," you said sincerely, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

"I will always protect you, Y/n. You are my pride and joy. Without you, I would be nothing. I love you more than anything, and I can't wait for the day I get to call you my wife," he said, his words a heartfelt promise that made your heart melt.

"I love you too, Thoma... more than you can ever imagine. I'm so lucky to have you, and I can't wait to call you my husband," you replied, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, your lips meeting in a tender, reassuring embrace.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, surrounded by friends and filled with laughter. The joy and love that filled the tavern were palpable, making it a night to remember—a testament to the unbreakable bond you shared and the bright future that lay ahead.

[glassartpeasants]

Run Rabbit Run .03

Yandere!Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Physical abuse, Kid being a dick head, slow development of Stockholm syndrome, mention of not eating, thoughts of self hatred and death, branding, nonconsensual kissing, Kid experiencing the chop-chop slide from shanks, heat being a real one, soft kid???, edited as much as my sleepy self could

Trash Summary: After receiving another horrific scar, reader is starting to lose hope. But just when someone from the inside offers help, her captor has an accident. Leaving reader to suffer with newfound emotions

A/N: yeah this series has a choke hold on me. I've got another part planned and that Luffy fic is still in the works but my computer deleted it and i have to start over :,)

music playlist

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

@rebeccawinters

~~~

The bruises were completely gone after a while and you finally started to feel better after having such a nasty cough. It no longer hurt to stand and the bite on your shoulder eventually healed and there wasn’t a trace that it even happened. 

Of course, you still were gonna watch how much weight you put on your thigh just to make sure. But now, after you were convinced that it was safe, you started to try to work out again. While you no longer had the crates, something was better than nothing.

You look at the wall, and you see the tally marks you’ve started in order to keep track of the days. There were a few times where you think you forgot but it’d still give you a rough estimate on what the time to leave would be. That is if you didn’t escape earlier.

You weren’t sure how you were gonna escape the more you pondered on it. If you were on open seas, you couldn’t just jump off the ship! Sea kings, unpredictable weather, dying from exposure, or being kidnapped by another pirate group! 

What if you were to get on an island? You couldn’t know where you were or how to get back and you highly doubt Kidd would ever let you outside without him by your side again. Escaping would be so much more complex the second time than the first time. 

You had thoughts about using your body to break down the door but that’d be loud enough to alert the entire ship. Perhaps you could try to learn how to pick locks? Wishful thinking since you don’t have anything to work as a pick. Maybe try and undo the screws on the doorknob/door hinges. You could use that butter knife you hid between the floorboards as a makeshift screwdriver.

“Rise and shine princess, me and you have somewhere to be.” Your heart races as Kidd’s voice breaks through the silence you were enjoying.

“Where?” You sit up in your bed as you watch the door. Hearing the door unlock never fails to make your throat dry. When he stepped into the room, you see a piece of cloth in his hand. A blindfold, most likely.

“Stand up.” Sighing, you get up from under the covers and stand before him, not wanting to get on his bad side. His big hands tie the cloth around your eyes before he throws you over his shoulder.

“I can walk, damnit!” He could have easily just guided you to whatever hell he was bringing you. You hated being manhandled by him and it took everything inside you to not flail like a fish. As soon as Kidd left your room, a cold air hit your body causing you to shiver.

“Chilly princess?” His laughter only made you more annoyed.

“You never told me where you're taking me.”

“So impatient.” You roll your eyes behind the blindfold. Obviously, he wasn’t gonna crack so you might as well try to recognize each twist and turn he took. Soon enough, you had no idea where you were. His whole ship felt like a damn maze every time you were out of your room.

Just then, you hear keys juggling, and the sound of a door unlocking echo in your ears. Where could he have taken you? Why did you have to wear a stupid blindfold? When you heard the door relock behind you and Kidd is when you really started freaking out. Your body began to squirm to try and loosen his grip.

“Quit squirming or I'm gonna chain you to a wall.” Considering that was the last thing you wanted, you let out a huff before stopping. You didn’t want another scar on your ankle and it’d only make escaping 10x harder.

You feel Kidd sit down before your plopped down on his knee. The blindfold was tugged off quickly and your eyes struggled to get used to the brightness of the room. Once your eyes did settle, you see tools covering the walls and a big workbench in front of you.

“Where am I?” You couldn’t help but look around the room more. Even the last time you were kidnapped, you’ve never been inside this room. So why were you here now?

“The place where I made that collar of yours.” He must have sensed your soured mood because he got up closer to your ear to the point you could feel his breath.

“Now your here to watch me make a new one.”  The feeling of his lips pressing against your neck made you freeze, His lipstick staining your skin with each kiss. You didn’t pull away simply hoping that he’d get it over with it soon. Today you just didn’t have the energy to deal with an angry Kidd.

Kidd grabbed your hips and turned you around so you were facing him. Your heart was racing as you both stared at one another for a split second before Kidd pressed his lips against yours. On instinct, you press your hands on his chest to try and stop him. Instead, it seemed to only stir him on.

He kissed you like you were gonna disappear at any second. His hands made their way to your sides and slowly caressed the flesh there. His touch made chills run along your spine. The feeling of his lips against yours made your stomach churn in disgust. Even being so close to him felt like a nightmare. You wanted nothing more than to shove him away and tell Kidd to kick rocks, but this could be a crucial part of getting you out of that small room. So despite your disgust, you kiss him back.

You move your hands to slide across his chest to his neck before cupping his face. The small gesture led him to make a small sigh through the kiss. His tongue quickly swipes across your bottom lip. Without a second thought, you open your mouth for him. You feel his tongue run against your own and his hands pull you closer to him.

When you both separated, a trail of saliva connected the two of you as you panted for air. Your face felt ablaze when you saw how smudged Kidd’s lipstick was. If it was like that on him, what did you look like? 

The workshop echoed your heartbeat as you tried to hide your face from view by hiding it in the crook of Kidd’s neck. It’s hard due to the thick collar that adorned your throat. It always got in the way of sleeping, eating, and even trying to read got in the way.

“If you're gonna make me a new collar, can it be one I can sleep in?” You mumbled into his skin as you tried your best to plead.

“Do you know why your in that collar?” His tone of voice made him bite your cheek. You can feel him pull you closer so your chests are touching. His piercing eyes look down at you.

“I ran away…” His fingers dig into your skin roughly, causing you to wince.

“Yeah, you did. How can I trust you not to do it again hmm? This collar makes my devil fruit power work even better than the last one. So why should I give rewards to bad girls?”

“Can I do something to make it up to you?...” Your heart beats out of your chest waiting for his response. The fear of uttering those single words had you fearing his answer even more.

Kidd’s chest rumbles as he makes a ‘hum.’ You hated how long it was taking him to just decide.

“Take off your shirt.” Your eyes widen, and you feel your blood freeze.

“W-What?”

“You heard me. Take it off.” With a gulp, you leave the crook of his neck. Grabbing the helm of your shirt with shaky hands, you slowly lift it over your head. The cold air attacked your exposed chest. You quickly cover your chest as you feel your face heat up. Kidd never gave you any bra’s and the one you did have, he threw away! Hell, you’ve asked but he said no every time.

“Back to me.” Without another second, you followed his orders. If you were given the chance to keep his prying eyes away from you, you’d take it.

Kidd’s cold hands run against your sides before tracing your spine. The small touches made you shiver. You question what his motives were when he stood up and placed you back down on the chair he once sat in. Before you could ask him, Kidd grabbed a piece of metal and used his devil fruit powers to wrap it around you, effectively ‘tying’ you to the chair. You try to move but you were no match for the strong metal.

“Hey! What the hell!” Kidd snickered before going to a corner of the room to grab something. You watched him with an intense stare. The sound of metal rattling and being shoved around was nothing compared to the screaming inside your head. What could he possibly be looking for?

“You know, originally Killer talked me out of this, but since you want to be rewarded for bad behavior, I think it’d go nicely with your new collar.” There was a sinister tone in his voice as he faced away from you. You didn’t even need to see his face to know he had the look of insanity plastered on it.

“It’ll also show anybody who tried to take you away, that you belong to me.” When he finally turns to face you, you see a blow torch and a metal pole with a shape on the end of it. Simply with his words, you knew that whatever he was holding could not be good. You try scooting away from him by pushing the chair away but he grabs it and pulls it back.

“Don’t worry, princess, I did my research.” His laughter had you breathing heavily as you panicked.

“This is completely unreasonable! You can’t be serious!” You try to escape once more but it proved futile.

“You wanted to make it up to him? Well here’s your chance.” Every inch of your body starts shaking violently as you simply look at him in horror. Insanity swirling in his eyes as he grabbed the blowtorch and held it to the metal.

“There has to be something else! Please Kidd-” A loud smack could be heard in the room. The sensation of Kidd’s backhanded slap caused tears to flow down your face. You wouldn’t be shocked if you got a bruise from how hard he slapped you.

“Be fucking grateful I’m even giving you this chance! Those damn Straw Hats taught you that you can be a brat! I’m going to kill each one of those fuckers! I’ll do it in front of you so you can see what happens when you leave me!” His voice was evil and dark and despite how much you wanted to cower and cry, your thoughts spilled from your lips.

“You’ll never beat them! They're gonna come for me and kick your ass!” Your hair was grabbed harshly as your head was tugged back. Tears blurred your vision but you could see his eyes staring at you. Even through the blur, they haunted you.

Before you could say another word, a searing hot pain burned against your chest. It was something that you’ve never felt before as every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. The pain of the metal touching your chest made you scream so loud that you thought you’d lose your voice. The metal was only on for a millisecond but it felt like a century. Tears pour down your face more than they’ve ever before as you wail from the pain. Your screams echoed throughout the room and your sure it could be heard from the depths of hell as well.

Kidd let go of your hair and you let your head fall. One of your tears fell on the fresh burn and you whimper from the pain. You could feel it throbbing, and it felt like hell even to breathe. The world seemed to spin around you as it felt as if your chest was being ripped open. Your vision slowly started fading to black as the pain soon became too much to handle.

~~~

Opening your eyes, brightness surrounded you. Squinting your eyes, you slowly lift yourself up and your chest burns at the simple movement. Rubbing your eyes, and taking in a sharp breath, you see that your in the infirmary once more. You let out a sigh as you turned to your right and saw someone you hadn’t seen since you were freed.

“H-Heat?”

“Hm? Oh, your awake-” You didn’t even give it a second thought before you got up to hug him as tears whelm in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I tried too hard but…” You whispered to him as you held him close, despite the burning pain on your chest.

“Don’t. I heard what happened. Life can be cruel sometimes.” You could only nod.

“You should sit back down. Putting pressure on your chest might not be a good idea after what happened.” Your eyes start to water as the events that happened earlier burned in your memory.

Letting Heat go, you look down at your chest. It was covered with bandages to the point where no skin was showing. Thankfully your breasts were covered in as well. You gently move your fingertips against the bandages before you make your way to your neck. The metal collar was gone and instead, a leather one replaced it. The bed squeaked when you sat back down.

“They all fully know about you now. The rest of the crew.” Lifting your head up, you look at Heat who was sitting in the chair in front of you.

“He lied about your screams, though. He said you burned yourself. I don’t know if the rest of the crew bought it but I didn’t.” You let out a slight hum as you listen to his words.

“I don’t know if you saw what he burned on your skin or if you passed out before you could.”

“My vision was blurry. I couldn’t see through the tears.” Your hands grip the end of the bed with a crushing grip.

“Let it heal first, then before you look.” Looking at the ground, you feel rage bubbling inside you.

“I want to kill him, Heat…I want him to suffer.” Your voice only a whisper as hot tears start flowing down your face, biting your lips to avoid letting out loud sobs.

“He’s taken everything from me. I can’t even fight back to defend myself. He always manages to hurt me before I fully recover from the last wound I had. How am I supposed to get away and go home if I can’t even go one day without being in pain?” The infirmary went silent, and the only thing that could be heard was your sniffing. 

“I’m trying so hard to stay positive but-” The sound of familiar footsteps cut you off. You gave Heat a quick glance before laying back down. Closing your eyes, you do your best to fake sleep.

“Heat! Did she wake up yet?” Kidd’s firm voice had you clenching your teeth.

“No. She’s been out cold the entire time.” You could feel Kidd’s piercing gaze against your ‘sleeping’ form.

“Don’t mean to pry, Captain but why?”

“Fuck you mean why?”

“Why her? What’s so special about her that you're hurting her to the point where she doesn’t have the strength to leave you?” Heat question causes you to bite your lip. You desperately wanted to know the answer too.

“That’s none of your damn business, Heat.” Suddenly, you feel two strong arms grab you, only to start carrying you bridal style. The urge to wiggle out of his arms and run was strong, but you didn’t dare open your eyes in fear of what he’d do when you ‘woke up.’

You feel Kidd walk out of the infirmary and return to your little room. Hopefully, he’ll just put you in there and fuck off. Go back to being a sick bastard elsewhere. 

“Heat needs to mind his fucking business. I can do whatever I want to you cause your mine. He doesn’t know how much of a spoiled brat you’ve been.” The two of you must have different definitions of spoiled brat.

The sound of Kidd opening the door had your heartbeat calming down. At least you were in the only place you felt a sliver of safety. You’d take any compared to nothing at all. But the sound of him locking the door behind him meant he planned on staying in your room tonight.

Kidd pulled back the blankets and set you down before you heard him take off his boots and join you in the bed. Grabbing your body, he pulls you closer before covering you both in blankets. He snuggles his head on top of yours, and you feel his chest against your back, arms wrapping around your sides.

“I remember the look of fear you had when I got you in the grasp. It took me everything inside me not to fuck you right in the middle of your burning town.” You could hear him chuckle. Events of that day had you holding back tears.

“It’s like you wanted it to happen. You watched me kick your mayor and didn’t so shit about it. You didn’t even run until you saw me looking at you directly. You practically begged me to steal you away. But I couldn’t have you thinking about home when all you needed was me. Watching you cry about your burning town made my cock so hard that it hurt. Good thing after your town burned to ashes, I had my perfect little princess waiting for me to fuck her beneath the deck.” His words made memories replay in your head as you felt your chest get heavy.

“I was originally going to get rid of you when I got bored, but the scared look on your face gave me a high that nothing ever has before. How could I get rid of something that made me feel so powerful?”

“And soon enough, I realized you were meant for me. Your whole existence was meant to be with me. It took a while but soon, you finally understood that you were meant to be by my side. Even if it took a hit or two.” Laughter rumbled in his chest as you felt small tears silently slide down your cheeks.

“It was perfect…until you left me.” Kidd’s grip gets crushing, causing you to let out a cry. He immediately stopped, probably worried that he’d ‘wake you.’  The room was silent before he continued.

“Those Straw Hats took what was rightfully mine, They stole you from me.”

“So when I saw you running alone on Sabaody, I was given proof that you were meant to be with me. You came back to my grasp. You simply needed some discipline.” Beating you to the verge of death is the farthest thing from discipline. But how were you supposed to talk sense into someone so delusional?

“Now look at you. You simply needed a reminder of your place. So quietly and listening to anything I have to say.” His fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face, and he places a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Cause I know your awake, princess.” 

~~~

It’s only been six months since you were taken on Sabaody. It felt so much longer than that, though. With every new fear and scar, it seemed to slow down time by 5x. No matter how hard you tried to close your eyes, the sleepless nights haunted you. Nights you stayed up crying in pain. From physical or emotional, you didn’t know. It could have been both.

You were trying so hard to stand up for yourself, to show that you no longer feared him. But anyone with eyes could see the fear that plagued you whenever you heard his footsteps. How venomous words died in your throat instead of reaching your target.

Your body was the weakest it’s ever been. With all the times you’ve been injured and how you refused food they had given you out of spite has taken its toll. It wouldn’t surprise you if you looked dead. Sometimes, you wish you were. Some days, when the nights were super cold and when the darkness suffocates you, you wish Kidd would just kill you. Wish that the warlord who took your friends would’ve taken you too.

When you felt your chest and how the scarred skin brushed against your fingertips, it only made you shove down the urge to vomit. Having such a demeaning thing scarred into your skin only fueled your overwhelming self-disgust. How could you even go back to the Straw Hats after getting it? There's no way they’d want someone as disfigured as you. The scars around your ankle and neck from being shackled, the stab wound scars, the scar on your face after hitting the crate corner, small scars from times he hurt you enough to break the skin. The horrific imprint of his jolly roger scarred against your skin was the worst of all.

What had you done to deserve such a fate? What past life did you live that made this life such a punishment?

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“...” You didn’t answer. Hoping that person would just leave. The last thing you needed was to see someone.

“It’s me, Heat. I brought you food.” The door opened, and his shadow filled the room.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know your lying. You haven’t eaten in 4 days.” You hear Heat place the food beside your bed before hearing him sit on the floor. Turning around, you look at him with a brow raised.

“I’m not leaving till you eat.” You pout but give in, hunger taking over your spite. Sitting up, you start eating the food in front of you.

“The others have been asking about you.”

“Why?”

“A screaming woman doesn’t just disappear in the infirmary.”

“I guess. But why is it relevant?”

“Based on Kidd’s answers, I think he will let you roam the ship.” Your eyes widen at Heat’s words.

“Really? You're not fucking with me?”

“It’s just a speculation, so I’m not sure, but it sounded like it.” You were about to celebrate finally getting out of the small room., but the reminder of having eyes on your scarred body and that you’d still be stuck on a ship with Kidd plagued your mind.

“Can anyone swim on here? Like, how many of you have devil fruit powers?”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you my evil plan.” A small laugh left Heat.

“You plan on swimming away? In your condition?” Despite wanting to argue, he was right. You were in no condition to do any physical activity.

“Damnit, your right. Guess my spite is my downfall.” All you could do was frown as you continued to eat.

“Did your burn heal okay?”

“Unfortunately. Now I’ve got that delusional fuckers jolly roger on my chest.”

“Well, you can lie about how you got them. If I didn’t know how you got them, I would’ve assumed that you got in some fight and got cool scars.” You let out a quick laugh. Heat’s words managed to somehow make you feel better.

“Anyone ever tell you you’d be a good therapist?” It was Heat’s turn to laugh now.

“You're the first. Who knows, maybe in another universe I am.”

“A therapist with some sick tattoos.” Both of your waves of laughter echoed in the small room. The smile you tried to hold faltered when you heard cannon fire roar across the ship.

“Must be Marines.” With a sigh, Heat stands up before grabbing the now empty plate.

“I better be off, or Kidd’s gonna freak.” Heat’s footsteps echo in your ears before he stops at the door.

“Instead of putting your body through trial after trial, recover first. Then I’ll help you.” Without another word, Heat leaves and closes the door behind him. Leaving you to ponder your next move.

~~~

Something felt off. There wasn’t any laughter on the ship or the sound of talking echoing in the halls. Killer only spoke one word to you all week, and you haven’t seen Heat or Kidd at all. You hated to admit it, but the silence and lack of human interaction worried you as you feared you might start hearing voices-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Who is it?” The door squeaks open, and Killer comes into sight. It wasn’t time to eat you based on the sun's position. You also showered earlier today, so it couldn’t be that either.

“Grab a blanket, pillow, and book, and come with me,”

“Bossy much.” Still, you did what you asked. Maybe it could be a better room he’s taking you to?

“Where are we going?” Killer closed the door behind you before telling you which way to go as he walked behind you. Probably to make sure you wouldn’t run.

“Kidd’s room.” You furrow your brows at his answer. Why did you have to go there?

It didn’t take long to reach this room. What surprised you was how a tall man wearing brown leaned against the wall next to the door. You’ve never met him before. At least that you could remember.

“This is Wire. He’s gonna guard the door to ensure you don’t leave.”

“That doesn’t explain why I'm here-” Killer cuts you off as he opens the door and gently shoves you inside.

“Hey!-” He shushes you and points behind you. Rolling your eyes, you turn around, and to your shock, you see Kidd lying on his bed covered in bandages. You’ve never seen Kidd like this before. Thankfully, he was sleeping, so he couldn’t see you holding back a smile.

‘Karma hit you hard, huh fucker?’

“Can I know what caused him to be a living mummy?” You throw your things on a chair conveniently placed next to his bed.

“We got in a fight.” Confusion fills you after hearing Killer's words. Even you knew that Kidd never lost a fight to other pirates. The last time a Marine ship came by, you logged it. You started logging almost every enemy ship the Victoria Punk crossed, and from what you can tell, Kidd always won. With how many bandages that covered him, the thought of him losing was still a shock.

“Since when does Kidd lose a fight? Plus, I didn’t even hear or see an enemy ship.” Killer simply sighed.

“Kidd simply bit off more than he could chew.”

“Well, now you have to tell me who gave him such a beating?”

“Kidd tried going after an emperor-”

“An emperor?!-” Killer shushed you quickly, and you hear Kidd moving behind you.

“Yes! Now be more quiet!” Killer flicked your forehead. You slap his hand before scowling at him.

“Anyways, Kidd’s gonna need someone to watch him till he wakes up and to make sure he doesn’t lay on his side.”

“Why?” Killer silently shuffles towards Kidd before pointing his head at Kidd’s side. With an eyebrow raised, you walk towards him. When you get closer to see what Killer is pointing to, your eyes widen, and your mouth drops open.

“Holy shit…his arm…”

“Yeah, make sure he doesn’t sleep on it.” With that, Killer starts moving towards the door.

“Hold up! How did he lose it?!” You whisper yell to him, but he closes the door before you can drag him inside to answer your questions.

Crossing your arms, you turn around and watch the redhead breathe slowly. You could only stare at him in his weakened form. Questions ran rampant in your mind. Which emperor did he go against? Why did he go against an emperor? Does he have a death wish? While it didn’t matter to you if he got himself killed, you wondered what was going through his mind. Then and now. Was he dreaming about the fight?

“Your such a fucking idiot Kidd. Going against an emperor thinking you’d win? You really are delusional.” You whisper to him as you sit on the chair before draping the blanket over you. Even if you were invested in the book you brought, all you could do was look at Kidd.

His hair was down, and his jacket was folded and placed on the end of his bed. A sheet simply covered him, letting you see more bandages under it. Whichever emperor he went against no doubt spared him. All those bandages couldn’t be hiding anything good.

~~~

It’d only been a few hours, but you could hear the telltale signs of Kidd waking up. Putting down your book, you quickly muster up some bravery as you look at the man lying on the bed.

“Fuck…my head…” With closed eyes, Kidd touches the bandaged area. Knowing Killer would have a fit if the bandages were messed up, you quickly grabbed Kidd’s hand. It was huge and rough compared to yours, probably from working with metal all the time and fighting. The feeling of your hand holding his had Kidd’s eyes shooting open. You see him go to speak, but you manage to interrupt him.

“Killer sent me here. Your in your room, obviously.” Kidd sits up quickly before you can stop him. You hear him let out a groan of agony.

“Careful idiot! If your wounds open, I’m not fixing them.” He sent you a glare that had you shutting up quickly.

“A few wounds isn’t gonna stop me from Killing Red Hair Shanks so fuck off-” Without thinking, you grab Kidd’s head and turn it so he can see the real damage that he received.

Just by the look Kidd held in his eyes, you could see horror behind them. Horror, shock, anger, every single negative emotion a human could feel, you saw behind his eyes as he looked at the missing appendage. His eyes widen, and his mouth ajar. In all the time you’ve been with him, you’ve never seen him like this. The sight had an unknown effect on you.

“Kidd?” Your voice soft as you know an aggressive one would have a negative effect on the situation. Still, Kidd didn’t answer you. You slowly move closer to him to try to see his face better. Another surge of shock fills your being as you see tears slowly slip down his cheeks. He didn’t even notice as he simply continued to stare.

You grit your teeth as a flurry of emotions explodes inside you. All of them saying that he finally got what he deserved. He finally feels what it’s like to lose something to have your world stop. But even at the sight of his karma, a slight itch wormed in your heart.

You felt bad.

“Hey…can you look at me?” Once again, no response. Biting your lip, you slowly move your hand as you gently place your hand on his bandaged cheek and softly push Kidd’s head to face you. Tears still poured down his eyes as he stared at you. It was so foreign. Seeing him so quiet.

“You should lay down, just to make sure everything heals properly-” Before you could say more, Kidd uses his one arm to grab you and pull you to him. His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to his lap. Thankfully, there were no wounds on his lower half so you didn’t have to worry about that after he made you straddle him. You feel him place his head on your chest, and before you could say anything, you hear him crying.

You were speechless as you simply looked down at him. Never has he shown such weakness. Before your mind thought it through, you wrap your arms around him. One arm gently wraps around his neck, and the other hand you placed on his head.

You didn’t know what he was louder, your heartbeat or his sobs as he breathed heavily. His forehead was pressed against the branding he gave you not long ago. Silence covered the room as neither of you said anything. What could you even say?

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly start combing your fingers through his red locks. Despite his rough exterior, his hair never failed to feel like silk.

“Just breathe, okay? In and out,” You demonstrate your words in hope he’d mimic it. Hopefully it’ll calm him down so he could get some air as his face was beet red. Kidd manages to follow your lead, yet you still fear tears hit against your skin. Your shirt soaked in his tears.

With a sigh, you start to hum a gentle tune. Because of how tight his grip was, you knew you weren’t leaving anytime soon.

~~~

It’s been a few days since Kidd woke up. He didn’t let you go until he eventually fell asleep upright, holding you. Crying himself to sleep was something you never thought Kidd would do but yet there he was.

You managed to escape and lay him back down. It was getting late, and you wanted to ponder your thoughts on what had just happened. You told the man outside the door everything, and he escorted you back to your room.

You didn’t sleep much that night as your emotions and thoughts fought against one another for hours. All your hatred and rage seemingly disappeared when you saw Kidd crying. Why weren’t you laughing at him? Laughing at his Karma? Why were you so gentle to someone who’s never been gentle with you until then? Your pillow was victim to all the frustrated screams you wanted to let out.

“I’m going insane! I must be! Why else would I feel bad?!” You could feel your body shaking as if it's ready to explode. After everything Kidd’s done to you, why has your body betrayed you and made you feel bad for him? You should be cheering and dancing, but instead, you here laying on your bed staring at the ceiling. Counting the nails keeping the ship together in hopes to bore you to sleep.

Yet you couldn’t. 

Your finger tips gently skimmed over the branding that you were given unwillingly. Hatred burned in your soul, yet the parasite of sympathy remained.

Scare littered your body from what Kidd put you on, though. There were so many that even looking at your body in the mirror had you feeling disgusted at yourself. How can you get over everything when you still, and always will have reminders etched into yoru skin? The sound of your racing heart overpowered the footsteps that drew closer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in?” Sitting up, you watch the door open. You were expecting Killer, but you were shocked to see a stumbling Kidd coming in. Bandages still wrapped around his body. The harsh smell of sake filled the room, and it was easy to figure out why Kidd was down here rather than in his own room.

“Kidd, your drunk. Your gonna fall and hurt yourself. Why are you here?” He didn’t give you an answer but instead continued approaching you.

Before you could speak, Kidd towered over you. You swallow the lump in your throat as you remain in eye contact. Kidd groans before he flops on top of you, knocking the air out of you.

“Kidd! Get off, asshole!” You scowled as you tried your best to push him off you. Yet despite all your effort, he didn’t move an inch. Gritting your teeth, you hit his back to get him at least sober enough to talk. Instead, all you heard were loud snores. You groan and rub your face with your hand. Having him use you as a pillow would not help your inner turmoil.

You look down at him and see him draping what remains of his left arm across your tummy. His head used your breasts as pillows, causing his untamed hair to tickle your neck.

“Mmm…” You could feel Kidd nuzzling closer to your body. The sound of sniffling echoes around the small room.

‘Great. What the hell am I supposed to do?’ With a sigh, you once again run your fingers through his hair, hoping of stopping him from sniffling.

You didn’t want to hear it. The sound of him being so weak in front of you had the deepest part of your heartstrings pulled. It told you that he needed you. That you were supposed to comfort him. The small voice only got louder and louder with every cry that left Kidd’s lips.

“You piece of shit. Even in your sleep, you torture me.” You put your free arm over your eyes and feel tears forming. Your chest felt heavy as you held back the urge to start screaming in anger. Yet, tears were the only thing that your body managed to do.

~~~

Kidd was gone when you awoke, and a small sigh left your lips at the realization. You thankfully didn’t have to deal with him first thing in the morning after being used as a pillow that he could cry into. The only evidence that he was there at all was a scrap of a bandage.  That and the lingering smell of sake.

While you wanted to get out of bed, there wasn’t anything that you could do. You were stuck in a small room with nothing but books and which all books had been read. All of them read to the point of wanting to use them as a fire starter. 

All you had in that small room were your books and your thoughts, and both were pointless. No books to engage and take your mind off the world around you and your thoughts so divided that it was your own personal hell.

Things felt so pointless. Why read when you’ve read it before? Why daydream when all it does is make you sad? You only had human interaction when food was dropped off in your room or when you were in the infirmary after an injury. Even then, more than half the time, it was interactions with someone you wished would keel over and die. Hearing their voices only fueled the nagging thoughts and the overwhelming nightmares. It felt like sleeping was your only escape but you were safe in slumber either. Nightmares of how hot the flames around you were when Kidd kidnapped you and burned down your home. The nightmares of pain he had inflicted upon you. You couldn’t remember the last time you truly had a dream that left you smiling and not sobbing into your pillow.

With how delicate your sanity was, you couldn’t even handle loud noises anymore. It’d just remind you of Kidd’s angry footsteps. The sound of gunfire had your limbs shaking as it reminded you of the times that Marines shot cannonballs at the ship right where you were. Always instilling the fear that one day, one of them would burst through the wall and kill you. Or bring you back to the day when Kidd stole you back. It makes you wonder what you could have done differently.

If you let yourself get caught by Warlord Puma, would Kidd still get you one day? What if you had run the other way? Or ran faster? Would you still be lying on the cold floor of your personal hell?

The suffocating thoughts of how your relationship with Kidd would be after he showed you that he was capable of being ‘human.’ Would things go back to the way they were? Would he treat you better? Actually, give you some sort of freedom other than moving to and from the infirmary without a blindfold and no longer having a metal collar? You had so many questions that could only be answered in time, and knowing that, ate you alive.

Just while you were stuck in your thoughts, you hear commotion going on upstairs. You haven’t heard any cannonballs, so it couldn’t be another ship. Could it possibly be they were getting ready to dock at an island? The thought being near an island was exciting. But you knew that you wouldn’t be let out of this room to go on said island anytime soon. So, getting your own hopes up would’ve been cruel.

Your lip trembles as you start to breathe heavily. Trying to hold in the small tears that threatened to sleep. Such a small action had you feeling even more pitiful.

“I’m so pathetic…I can’t even go two hours after waking up without crying. Why can’t I be strong like Zoro or Robin? Why can I even call myself a strawhat when I’m so fucking useless that I can’t even defend myself from getting kidnapped!” Your desperate words slice through your already wounded heart like razors. Thick tears start falling down your face as you begin to sob loudly. You turn in your bed and grab a pillow, holding it tight.

You cling to the pillow as you drench it in your tears just as Kidd had done to you. The small room made your sobs echo all around you. Almost as if they were laughing at how pathetic you were. It wouldn’t surprise you if your cries echoed out into the hallway. Hearing your own voice had you wishing that maybe death was better than being stuck in such an endless loop.

You were stuck in Kidd’s grasp, and now his presence seeped into your soul. Infecting you like a virus to the point where you started giving the man who took away everything from you sympathy. It was horrible knowing that you were wasting your sympathy on such a cruel man. It’s already horrible how you slept better in his arms, but now that you were starting to feel a semi-positive emotion towards your captor, it's a whole other story.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Go away!” You cover yourself in your blanket as you sniffle into your pillow.

“It’s Killer.”

“What do you want?” The cracking of the door had light illuminating your room. Even from under your blanket, you could see it. 

“Kid wants you.” Pushing the blankets down, you wipe your blurry eyes as you look at Killer with an annoyed expression. 

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Now come on.” 

~~~

As soon as you open Kidd’s bedroom door, you see it’s empty. You turn to look at Killer, eyes still watery as you try to stop the tears.

“He’s not here.”

“Well, he just was. Give him a second.” With a frown, you roll your eyes before stepping in. You huff as you slam the door behind you, not wanting any more interaction with the masked man.

You jump in Kidd’s bed and start to get yourself situated the best you could. His bed was much better than your own, and you just wanted to sleep, even if your nightmares continued. You just wanted the day to fly by. 

Since Kidd wasn’t in his room, the atmosphere felt lonely and cold, much to your disdain. You couldn’t hear the sounds of waves that sometimes lulled you to sleep, so you try to hum a small tune so you weren’t stuck listening to nothing.

His room was quite clean compared to normal. No clothing on the floor, tools no longer scattered among surfaces. Metal trinkets placed normally and from what you can see through the crack of the bathroom door, it looks much cleaner as well. It had you scratching your as the whole scene felt off. Just then. Kidd’s bedroom door opened and you see Kidd walking through it from the corner of your eye. He must have went to get new bandages.

He moved to the other side of the bed, saying nothing as he kicked off his boots. The bed dipped drastically with a squeak as you felt the covers move. The smell of Kidd’s shampoo hit your nose as the silence seemed suffocating. While you usually had no desire to talk to the man behind you, the silence was just to loud.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Sorry.” Only seven words expressed between the two of you and yet it still felt like a thousand. It could be that this would’ve been the most normal conversation you’ve ever had with him. A conversation that you started. You take a sharp breath before turning around to see Kidd laying on his back. Both of yoru eyes catch one another.

“Does it hurt to lay down?”

“Only at certain angles. It stings to move my face a bit.” You hum as you spot Kidd’s goggles holding up his hair, no doubt causing more pressure. Scooting closer to him, you reach your hand up to gently pull off his goggles. Kidd’s eyes went wide before going back to normal and looking at your face. You take his goggles and hold them in front of Kidd.

“This could be causing some of the stinging.” Kidd grabs them before putting them on his nightstand. He returns his attention to you before telling you lay your head on his bandaged chest. You just decided to listen, to tired to ignore his commands.

His body was much warmer compared to your own, leaving you to cling to his bandaged body like a koala, wrapping your legs around one of his thighs and laying one of your arms across his torso. His heartbeat echoed in your head as the steady rhythm had your eyelids growing heavy. You hear him gulp and before you could fully close your eyes, you feel Kidd intertwine his fingers with yours. The feeling made your heart drop cause while your mind told you to rip it away, your body stayed still. Enjoying the small gesture of deseperate affection.

“Do you have anymore books that I can read?” You mumble quietly into Kidd’s chest as you stare down at his hand holding your own.

“No. why?” The familiar gruffness in his voice finally coming back.

“I read all of them. Also, some of my clothes are missing.” You hope that you can take advantage of teh calm situation your in to potentially get more things that’ll keep your sanity for a little longer.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. Right now, we sleep.” You hum against his chest as you enjoy the warmth that Kidd gave you before you feel your eyes flutter shut.

[ochrearia]

I love that my synesthesia is something I get to apply to people and characters because of how I think make no mistake the type that I have is simply a hearing-sight blend that I can't control in my brain so I see shapes and colors from things I hear and mine works with music mainly though laughter and the wind also triggers it. It's just a quirk of my own way of thinking that lets me apply this to people and characters that I love. Music's already a big part of me and somewhere along the line I decided "You know what? Sound is like a second language to me already, instrumentals and music speaking in a way that vocal word can't, and who's to say I can't take in everything I've learned about a person, what makes them tick, what makes them who they are, their actions, thoughts, feelings, take all of those and create the concept of a soul by perceiving it all wrapped into one as a song that I have in my online libraries?" And that's what I do. Now let me go the fuck off about Pico Newgrounds because make no mistake I'm not an expert on this idiot but from what I personally see of him and what he can become with a nudge in the right or wrong direction is so. Wonderful to me

Now I have mentioned this before and I have even painted this and driven the point in that it's him but this is the song that Pico sounds like to me

And I think it's important for me to go into detail about something right off the bat. I am a firm believer in the idea that your trauma does NOT equal who you are. And by that I mean it can be a piece, or pieces, that help shape you and push you in directions that change yourself but it, to me, will never be You. There is ALWAYS more to a person than the shit they've gone through, more to a person than the shit they struggle with and have to live with as a result of a terrible event. Sorry to drop some wild Ochre lore here but My anxiety disorder, my past abusive relationship and subsequent SA encounter, those things aren't ME. They are parts, yes, and they are things that pushed me in the direction of what I am now but. That's not all I am, and I highly doubt anyone I've told about those things views me as just that. Pico is not just his trauma. They are pieces of him but they are not him. He's not the shooting, not the russian roulette, he's not any of it. Those are just things he lived through.

On the outside, he can be really explained by one word. Guarded. Because he is, guarding himself from the horrors of the world by being standoffish, and cruel at times, a damaged man with a gun not above killing people for his own benefit but that's just what he's learned to do to survive. The world's been nothing but unkind to him and he mirrors that outwardly, why should the world get to witness his vulnerability, his true self when all it's done is burn him? No, of course not. He can be a "bad" person but he isn't a bad person, not truly.

So who is Pico, then? At the end of everything he's been through, kind. Smart, and creative, knows a thing or two about survival and skilled with his guns and that's impressive. Cocky and still kind of an asshole, but at the same time loyal and willing to go over the edge and maybe too far for other people that aren't himself. I don't give a goddamn if PA or whoever the fuck says that Pico hates BF and GF, he was supposed to kill Boyfriend in FNF, TWICE, and he doesn't. I'd like to think that people don't just so casually disobey Daddy Dearest and all of his money. Pico does anyways. Loyalty. Even though it puts targets on his back from his own friends for a little bit. He does the right thing from a sense of kindness and morality that outwardly he'd have you believing he doesn't have. But it's there and I'm very much aware of it.

Yes, there will be days that he temporarily can become the "him" he shows outwardly as a defense mechanism. Bad days where he struggles mentally, days where everything seems hopeless and not worth it so why even bother being a real person? But that's still not fully *him* and he couldn't get rid of the aspects of his true personality even if he tried. Even if his head convinced him that he was a good for nothing murderer and lost cause of a man. He's not. Sometimes he believes it, and that's worrying, but he really just isn't. Though I suppose if you wanted to nudge his character in that direction, you still could. There is a clear darker path that he can be pushed to and that's something very audible in the song that I chose to encapsulate him if you listen close enough. But for the sake of where I like to see him, I don't fully go down that path because I believe in giving him a happier ending.

He is space blue, and a deep gray bordering on full black. He is jade green and an off-white/silver, hazy but strong and encircling back on himself like a spiral galaxy. Soft colors that move slowly, contrasting the idea that he can never slow down or stop because then he'd unravel and fall back to that vulnerable part of him he tries so hard to hide. He really is like a slow moving snowstorm, gentle moving flurries that envelop and capture instead. Crisp lines that move like arms curling out and back around to cover himself and all his vulnerabilities, though I can see past them anyway. A large, rounded central core to him. Rounded, not sharp, not spiky, because all he wants to do is be safe and maybe, if he doesn't have to hurt anyone, he may choose not to. It's an air of a scared and wounded animal. Make no mistake, Pico can take care of himself, but beyond the severe distrust of other people maybe there's a part of him that doesn't want to be so locked up within himself. And it's for those special few that his shell sometimes crumbles to where they can see his true colors, perhaps even drown in them.

Despite the space blue and deep gray being darker, like a cloud hanging around him, they contrast with the jade green and silver that pushes a sense of light in the midst of it all. Pico's layers are clear to me, at least from what I can see. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just saying what I want to see, but I'd like to think I've got a knack for nailing people and even characters by now. And no matter what song they may be, what vision I may see, they are all so very beautiful and important. Doesn't matter if it's a real person or not. I think it gives a sense of life to characters that I really adore. They're real on some other sense of reality, in those worlds shown on my eyes by my synesthesia that aren't truly there but are real to me. Kind of a little like hallucinations which might sound scary but I like these ones compared to the encounters I've had with. Other ones that aren't so nice lmao. Maybe they aren't really there but they're "fake" things that I absolutely don't mind having around

Pico is kind of someone I see a shocking amount of myself in. We have different traumas but it's sort of lead to some of the same outcomes regardless. And I don't want to consider him a lost cause personally. I don't like making him suffer for no reason so when I do write him suffering it's either me projecting my own experiences through him or tackling a bit of his mental health issues that he just seems to have. But besides that I like to write him with an air of hope and healing because I don't care what he struggles with he deserves a damn happy ending.

[chaoslovesmisery]

Chapter 5: Long-Awaited Revelry

***Please read special author's note at he end of this chapter***

The heavy oak door of the bar creaked open as I stepped inside The Nest, my high heels clicking softly against the polished wooden floor. The warm glow of amber light spilled over the marble counter, highlighting the freshly reupholstered leather seats and intimate booths that surrounded the dimly lit room. I scanned the crowd, taking in the huddled groups lost in laughter and hushed conversations, while the faint sound of a jazz band in the corner created an atmosphere both inviting and deceptive. Many deals were being made here. 

Wearing a fitted black dress that hugged my curves, an ushanka on my head, all black glasses, and a sly smile, I sauntered to the bar and ordered a whiskey neat, subtly keeping my gaze on the entrance. My heart raced with a cocktail of adrenaline and anticipation; tonight's mission was clear. I hand the bartender a black quill made from one of my feathers. They took it and placed it behind the counter and I took a sip of my drink. 

I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored back of the bar, adjusting a loose strand of hair before leaning casually against the counter when I saw her walk in. I walk away from the bar and walk to the center of the floor where a few are dancing. I sway my body back and forth to the sound of the music as I watched a Siren that was waiting for my fish approach and block off a pest from bothering her.

They walk to the bar and I can see the quill being used as the one I had just dropped off a few minutes before. She's about to offer herself as bait. Always the "self-sacrificing" Heroine, aren't we? The bartender takes the paper and heads to the VIP area. The Heroine thinks she's baiting only Onychinus but she's baiting Ever group leader and the other group as well, she doesn't realize how risky this actually is.

I watch as she is handed a black shot glass. A black glass means you'll pay a high price, one she thinks she'll be able to pay but she'll be the payment instead. I watch as the male lead next to her, Rafayel the Siren, speaks to her before watching her throw back the shot in one gulp. I roll my eyes at her confidence.

A drunken man stumbles into me wearing a Hawaiian style shirt with palm trees on it, the foul scent of alcohol on his breath overwhelming my senses. I felt a rush of anger wash over me, but before I could react, the Siren emerged from the shadows. With effortless charm and an assertive presence, he placed himself between us.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you find your way back to your friends?" The Siren's voice was smooth but resolute, and the man, sensing the challenge, muttered an apology and walked away. The Siren turned to me, flashing me a grin and I rolled my eyes.

"If I needed help I would have asked." I taunt, crossing my arms.

"Is saying thank you such a difficult thing?" he scoffs. I narrow my eyes on him not lowering my glasses so he wouldn't see my eyes. My eye color wasn't common and could lead to me being exposed. 

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" I sneer and he smirks at me looking above me where the VIP lounge is.

"What a nasty temperament," he says, waving his hand walking away. I turn around and view the hit list board. The Male Lead Caleb has an X over it and Lumiere, the Ex-Prince, shows in front of his wanted poster. Rafayel's Wanted poster on the top right and I hum to myself amused. Maybe I should turn in that fish for a big prize.

"Move aside! It's about to start!" The drunk man from earlier yells after running into the Heroine. I can tell she wants to confront him but she lets it go. I start to make my move to the corner of the bar watching the Heroine as she tries to get a bearing on her surroundings as the lights go out. The hunt is about to begin.

"There's a price to pay when a wish is granted. Will you be the hunter or the hunted tonight?" The radio above says. I watch as the mechanical eye zooms in, staring at the Heroine. I just have to wait to grab her. I hear the shouts and jeers of the audience.

"Hunting Day will now commence." The radio says. The mechanical eye turns and stares at me for a moment before turning away. Shit. I think I've been found out. I turn around and make my way behind the bar and the kitchen to make my way out of the building throwing my hat and glasses on the floor. It's too risky to grab her now.

I call Sylus. "If I haven't been found out by Ever, they took the bait that was ours. She's going to be taken at this rate. What do we do?" I ask. Sylus is quiet for a moment. "Follow her, close. It's time." he says and I end the call. I check for wandering eyes before transforming into my crow form.

As my wings unfurl and the cool night air envelops me, I take to the sky, scanning the streets below for signs of Ever. The looming shadows of the buildings stretch across the pavement like fingers reaching out, and I know I must stay vigilant; her safety depends on my silent vigilance. My heart races at the thought of the danger she could be in, yet a calculated calm settles over me as I glide effortlessly through the darkness, ready to swoop in at a moment's notice.

I followed the black vehicle that sped off from The Nest parking lot. I watch as he's driven down the same road three times. I caw twice signaling that the car has stopped in an abandoned yard. I watch as the man in the black drags her out before taking out a knife. I caw once indicating danger.

"Kidnapping Onychinus's prey without letting us know...That's not exactly polite." Luke says and the man in black grabs the Heroine placing the blade to her neck.

"Who's there?!" The man yells looking around.

"She's ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago." Kieran says before throwing a blade at the man making fall to the floor in pain while dropping the Heroine.

"I'm really curious... She's brave enough to drink from a black glass. What will she do when backed into a corner..." Luke says while phasing in next to Kieran before kicking the man in black over.

"You're pretty bold for releasing information about the Aether Core in The Nest like that." Luke says, walking over to the Heroine.

"Explains why the Boss is interested." Kieran says, crouching in front of her. A chuckle can be heard from behind them as the man gets up from the floor to his knees.

"I see... Sylus sent you... But the Aether Core... is mine!" The man says before pulling out the gun and pulling the trigger. The bullet stops in mid air as Sylus uses his Energy Evol to snare the man like a fly caught in a spider's web. The gun is pushed on the floor while the Energy lifts the man up in the air. Luke smiles up at the man waving to him knowing full well what's about to happen and chuckling.

The higher the man is lifted the more he claws at his neck trying to breathe, with a loud burst the man is nothing more than flecks of energy particles flowing away with the gentle breeze. The loud bell chimes four times and I fly up to him but he jumps down and I can feel a warm energy around me before I realize Sylus has phased me on his shoulder.

"Take out the vermin that're still running amok." Sylus says and I fly off his shoulder.

"Yes, Sir." They respond and I lead Luke and Kieran down the road where two more cars screech to a halt when seeing the boys. There's about eight men and I phase behind them and Luke throws the dagger my way but narrowly misses the enemy.

Adrenaline surges through me catch the blade with a swift, practiced motion, feeling the weight of the metal in my hand. The eight men turn, their eyes widening in surprise, but there's no time for hesitation. "Don't let any of them escape!" I shout to Luke and Kieran. We have them cornered and the men point their guns at us, grinning with overconfidence.

"Do you know what a group of crows is called?" Luke asks. I can see that the men are puzzled for a moment before catching a glimpse of our Aether Core infused blades that shine in the light.

"You're about to find out," Kieran taunts.

"You really think you can take us?" one of them mocks, but I can sense their wavering resolve. Without a word, I launch forward, blade slicing through the air as I target the nearest thug. As the metal pierces flesh, he explodes into a brilliant shower of energy particles, disintegrating like a dying star.

Beside me, Kieran is a whirlwind, somersaulting to dodge incoming bullets before countering with precision strikes of his own—each stab leaving another man vaporized into nothingness. Luke, with an unwavering focus, utilizes his agility to dart in and out, creating confusion among the attackers while his dagger finds its mark, resulting in more bursts of radiant energy.

Gunfire erupts, but our speed and the sheer lethality of our blades allow us to dance through the chaos. I pivot, narrowly avoiding a shot, and retaliate with a thrust that sends yet another opponent to a fate of shimmering particles. With each fallen foe, the remainder begin to panic, realizing they are no match for the raw, explosive power of our weapons. Just three remain, and with a shared glance, we coordinate our final assault—three blades striking in unison, lighting the night with a dazzling blast of energy as the last of them dissipate into mere flecks of light, leaving the cold pavement barren and silent.

"By the way that was pretty cheesy back there," I laugh, nudging Luke and he laughs.

"Don't like my Murder of Crows reference?" He says pinching my cheek and a swat at his hand smiling.

We walk back and I can see from a distance Sylus lifting up the Heroine from the neck and knocking her out. He lifts her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll before turning towards us.

"Did you take out the trash?" Sylus asks and we three kneel.

"Yes, Sir." We say in unison.

"Good," He says before he begins to walk towards me. I stand up confused how he's holding the Heroine like she's some Raggedy Ann Doll. This was supposed to be the woman he always fell in love with, the woman he would kill for, the woman he would die for. He pats my head once before walking past me and I watch as the Heroine sways dangling on his back. Watching them resonate is going to be fun. I look at my hand fighting back a distant memory full of blood, betrayal, and horror.

"Hey, you okay?" Kieran asks lifting up his mask exposing his concern.

"The sooner she resonates with him, the better." I say, looking up to the cloudy night sky.

****************************************************************

A/N: 

Chapter based off Under Deepspace Chapter 8 Galactic Sunset: Part 09-10 and Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 01-02

Read/Played in order:

1. Chapter 8 Main Story Galactic Sunset, Part 09: Into Deep

2. Chapter 8 Main Story Galactic Sunset, Part 10: Trap

3.  Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos, Part 01: Cage

4. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 02: Alike

****************************************************************

SPECIAL AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Just so you know if you replay the parts of the game I mention they make references or there are connections to what happens in the story. For example the woman in the the background is "my" character Mephisto in Part 10:Trap. 

I use her because when you first begin playing this part of the chapter you can see her standing by herself in the beginning before MC or Heroine is knocked into the same guy in the Hawaiian shirt but the woman is no longer in view. 

The mechanical eye does turn to the MC's left before going away and then returning so that was used as an actual reference point. 

I've done this before in another chapter where if you go back in my Played in Order with Xavier in the bar the game says "He's been doing that since the beginning. There are three pairs" indicating that there are three pairs of eyes watching him which in my story is Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto. The game continues to say "It's likely his actions in the alley caught their attention. After all, bird of a feather flock together." This made me feel I could tie this in nicely. 

I wanted to make my story tie in the actual game in a way that actually makes sense and matches for the most part however, more intimate memories with Sylus and MC will be made with Sylus and Mephisto in a way that hopefully works and makes sense. Thank you so much for reading my story!

[ersatz-ostrich]

Wolffe x f!Officer!Reader: One and Only

[A/N]: Bullying sucks, and for some reason, a lot of anti-bullying campaigns seem to make bullies nastier. I can't say if those campaigns succeeded, though, because I feel like the term 'bully' itself has been beaten to death. This oneshot is an edited, old work that I had deleted a few years ago. My younger self wrote this hoping for a cathartic escape from my past experiences with bullies. If it's a little overdone, that's why - but I hope some of you know what it was like, too. I hope you got the support you needed during those times, but if you didn't, I genuinely hope you will, sooner better than later.

Summary: Y/N, a naval officer spending most rotations on a Venator-class star destroyer, has loved and cherished Commander Wolffe as a partner for months now. They've always managed to stay in touch and pretty much nothing could break their bond—that is, other than the scathing comments of the critical and envious.

Warnings: Bullying and self-esteem issues.

read it here on ao3

"Ugh! How did Y/N ever get promoted to naval officer? She’s such a bitch ," A voice hissed from beyond the steel corridor of the Venator-class star destroyer, namely, the Reverence.

"It's unbelievable! And they say she's Commander Wolffe's girlfriend." Another voice added. 

From the far end of the hallway, you sighed, keeping your eyes glued to your datapad. The snide comments of gossipy subordinates and snarky superior officers were starting to eat away at what little confidence you held onto. The fact that they'd even mentioned Wolffe twisted their dagger-like insults into the very flesh of your psyche. 

Taking a sharp left into the control room, you wished that their eyes could refrain from boring straight into your back and following your bowed head past the glowing table to where the Admiral stood. 

"Admiral." He nodded in acknowledgement of your entrance.

"L/N. Have you received word from General Koon about our strategy for the offense?"

"I just received the transmission, sir. I came to inform you that he has approved our strategy and is willing to put it to the test." You answered, handing him your datapad.

"Thank you, officer. You may go now." You nodded and strode right out of the room and right into a gaggle of medbay nurses—civilians from a volunteer corp, terribly patronizing and unbelievably annoying—who immediately scattered, tittering with laughter. 

"Maker, I’m so glad I don’t have to wear the Navy uniform. Y/N L/N takes the olive out of olive-drab." One of the medbay nurses remarked as the group disappeared down the corridor, your full name rolling off of her tongue harshly, each syllable pronounced in repulsive mockery. You instinctively clutched your datapad, focusing on the deep black of space from outside the Reverence. Somewhere out there, Wolffe is waiting for me, you thought to yourself. Let's hope he hasn't forgotten about me.

Somewhere, several systems away, Commander Wolffe ducked into a canvas tent. The sound of LAATs soaring overhead, the revving of speeder bikes, and overall commotion filled his ears—but he paid no attention to the din as he quickly punched a code into his holoprojector. After a few minutes of dialing, a familiar blue hologram finally appeared in the palm of his hand.

“Wolffe?" Your voice, although crackling with signal static, was music to Wolffe's ears.

"Y/N!" He smiled for the first time in days, the smile reaching his eyes that had become shadowed from many sleepless nights. "How’s work on the Reverence?" You shook your head.

"Well, it's been a lot like the usual." You answered, sighing. You didn’t feel like lying to Wolffe anymore—’good’ just didn’t sum up your experience at all. "I don't think a whole lot of people like me on this ship." Wolffe's smile immediately disappeared. 

"What makes you think that?" 

"It's just...I always hear this mechanic or that nurse talking behind my back. It's like they don't bother to hide it anymore." You rambled. "I hate it. I wish they'd issued me a bucket like yours to wear so I wouldn't have to show my face in front of a bunch of people who absolutely detest my ugly face!" You clenched your fists, making wrinkles in your olive-drab uniform pants.. Watching you hold back tears, Wolffe solemnly wished that he could be physically present to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

"Y/N..." He averted his eyes, the cogs turning in his head. "I wish I could just tell all of those di'kuts to stop—"

"Wolffe, you don't have to." You interrupted him, expression caught between twisted despair and an apologetic smile. "I'm used to it, but all of this bantha shit gets to me sometimes." Wolffe chuckled quietly, sending butterflies fluttering into your stomach.

"I'm sorry you have to go through all of this, Y/N. I promise we'll be together soon." His eyes were sincere, despite his cybernetic eye. As he spoke, Sinker poked his head into the canvas tent. 

"Commander? We're still waiting on bacta. Do you really think we should consider buying bacta from the locals?" The clone inquired, jerking his thumb to where the medical tent was pitched.

"They know that we can't tell the difference between real bacta and watery jelly..." Wolffe grumbled. "Give me a moment." Sinker ducked back out of the tent, and Wolffe returned to his call. 

"What was that about?" You inquired, cocking your head in questioning. 

"Sorry Y/N, Sinker just popped in with a question." Wolffe paused, thinking quickly. "Say, Y/N. We're running out of bacta at the camps, but the locals cultivate and sell it. I don't know if we should buy it, 'cause we don't know if it's legitimate or not, and if it's actually medical grade." You pondered for a moment, searching your memory for whatever had been scribbled into the reg books of years past about Wolffe's particular dilemma.

"Hmm...what you can do is check samples of the bacta they sell to make sure it's legit. Real bacta has a thin but slimy consistency, like that of sticky porridge rations, you know what I mean? Make sure it isn't watered down.” You stated. “Oh, and the preferred kind of bacta that we typically use is mostly clear or tinged blue from the added drugs. It should also have a certain smell, kind of pungent because of the bacteria cultures in it but also kind of like the chemical additives it contains." 

Wolffe listened intently as you listed the specifications of medical-grade bacta. He enjoyed hearing you talk, especially about something you were well-versed in or passionate about—he could see the admiration glimmering in your eyes, and what confidence you had finally began to show itself. You could read him a whole reg book and he’d be riveted. 

"So, as long as it meets the requirements for standard bacta, you can buy it. As long as it doesn't cost an LAAT and a few DC-15s, I guess." You concluded with a quiet chuckle.

"That's all I need to know, Y/N. You're a life-saver, I mean it." Wolffe answered with a sincere smile. He clambered off of the munitions crate he had been using as a seat and shifted his gaze to the commotion outside of his little canvas nook. From within the hologram, you saluted. 

"No problem, Wolffe. I'll see you around, I guess." 

"I'll be with you as soon as I find time, Y/N. I promise." Wolffe murmured, eyes softening. 

"I'll be waiting."

Wolffe did end up striking up a bargain with the planet's natives, heading back to the camp with crates full of bacta. He'd memorized your instructions from the beginning to the end—check the viscosity, the color, and the smell. With your trusty advice, Wolffe inspected the bacta carefully with his medics.

       "This is some good bacta." One of the medics whistled, hauling the last of the load into the rather haphazardly set up medical tent. “How much did you say you bought it for, Commander?” Ducking under the coarse fabric, Wolffe nodded in agreement and replied absentmindedly, thoughts wandering to the many misfortunes that could have unfolded had you not been there to guide him.

Many, many parsecs away, you gazed at the stars through thick transparisteel with forlorn eyes. Your many tormenters—one of which included your own conscience—taunted you, but their voices became muffled as you diverted your focus to a different, more uplifting hypothetical, wondering on about the pit of shame you would have been wallowing in had Wolffe not picked you up out of the pile of bantha shit you'd gotten yourself into simply by introducing yourself to a crew that wished you'd never existed. 

Every minute he had to spare, he was attempting to patch through a transmission in hopes of cheering you up. He could have picked anyone to surrender his love to—someone more beautiful, more confident—but he had to pick you.

       "Officer L/N. The Admiral wants you on the bridge." One of the OODs' voices crackled onto the comm on your sleeve, snapping you out of your star-studded reverie. Peeling your eyes away from the glimmering beauty of space, you dashed for the elevator.        

       "Tell him that I'll be there in a few." You called out while slipping into the lift. The door opened to the command bridge, where the admiral stood admiring the vacuum of deep space as you had a couple of floors below.

“L/N." He began. "General Koon has informed me that the offensive against Separatist blockades has succeeded. Moderate to minimum damage and little casualties." Excitement began to bubble from within you. "He states that no other officer could have created an attack plan as brilliant and niche as yours, L/N. He considers you to be one of his best tacticians."

"I am honored to receive such praise from General Koon, Admiral. I only consider this a part of my duty as a strategic officer." 

"You certainly should be, L/N. This assault was one of our campaign's most successful by far. We have scheduled shore leave in two rotations, L/N. Keep up the good work." With a curt nod, you pivoted on your heels and exited the bridge.

Every inch of Wolffe's body was tingling with electric excitement. He couldn't possibly wait a second longer until he could finally hold you in his arms, unlike the incorporeal hologram he'd been speaking to for endless rotations. As the Reverence entered the atmosphere and his ship neared the hangar's tractor beams, he felt as if he could feel your Force signature on the ship, even though he wasn't Force-sensitive. 

The ship slowed to a stop, backing into the hangar bay. Wolffe was quick to jump down the ramp and onto the hangar, much to the surprise of his brothers and commanding officer still on board.

"Are you in a rush, Commander?" Quipped said commanding officer. The Kel Dor Jedi was making his way down the ramp, watching amusedly as Wolffe searched the bustling hangar for what seemed to be nothing in particular. 

"Yeah, where are you going so quickly?" Comet inquired, appearing from within the ship with Sinker and Boost on his heels. "Maybe he's looking for his girlfriend ," he whispered to the two, who cast knowing, side-eyed glances at each other.

You were cloistered away in your office, agonizing over several datapads and a rather large and complicated star map. Anxiously running a hand through your hair, your eyes flitted from one barrage of glowing blue Aurebesh to another. 

"Our campaign, our offensive." You muttered frantically. "I can feel the dark circles under my eyes growing." You pulled up yet another intricate star map, this time depicting a different sector. "Intel says there's a blockade here, here, and here...there, too..." 

Your thought process had already been set into motion as you first inspected the loose estimates of the Separatist numbers. Then, according to that, you instinctively began to formulate the optimal course of action—after months of long nights of studying for exams and even longer nights of strategizing aboard the Reverence and formerly the Triumphant, formulating battle strategies like so had become second nature to you. 

"The last two-pronged 'bident' attack might have been successful upon deployment of the Y-wings, but can we really guarantee the success—or predict the failure—of a Y-wing bombing run or a Torrent fighter attack?" You mused. 

"Oh my Force, she's back at it again..." You heard a fellow naval officer groan from across the office. “Karking hell, shut the kriff up!”

"Back again at what, exactly?" A familiarly gruff voice nearly made you trip over your abandoned desk chair from standing up so quickly. The big-mouthed officer from the other side of the office shut himself up immediately, standing ramrod straight and saluting stiffly. Prying your eyes away from the star maps, you saw the most welcome sight of all—Wolffe, tossing his helmet to the ground with a clatter as lurched over your desk to cup your face in his warm, gloved hands. You shimmied around your closet-like office space to throw your arms around his neck, closing in for a passionate and well-deserved kiss, filled with all of the emotions that had lost themselves in all of the sleepless nights you'd spent apart. 

"You don't know how happy I am to see you again." You breathed, melting in his embrace. Admiring the facial features that had been the object of ridicule by your bullies, Wolffe showed an air of concern at the dark shadows making themselves prominent under your drained-looking eyes. 

"You don't look too good, mesh’la. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep can wait when an entire fleet is at risk." You answered, slipping out of his arms and making your way out of the office. You sat yourself back down at your cluttered desk, putting your head in your hands. Wolffe opted to lean against the doorframe.

"I heard from General Plo that your strategy was a success." Wolffe began. "He thinks very highly of you, Y/N."

"And so I've heard." You droned sardonically, peering at the clone commander from over your hands. "The Admiral told me all about it. How was your ground campaign?"

"Well, your advice worked wonders for our medical team. Your instructions alone saved dozens of good men out there, Y/N." 

"I'm just doing my job, Wolffe. It's all in a day's work. Any other borderline competent naval officer could have told you how to buy bacta." You replied. Wolffe sighed, taking a seat atop your desk and grasping your hands.

"You've gotta be bluffing. I can't think of any other officer who takes control of a situation like you do." 

"Really? I'm not that special."

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? Have you really been listening in on whatever those grunts are saying? Look at you." Wolffe released your hands and reached over to let a hand graze over your cheek. "Look at the wit in those eyes. You're smarter than what you give yourself credit for." Before Wolffe could continue, your comm chirped.

“Officer L/N speaking,”

"Officer?" The Admiral’s voice made you jump. "I wanted you to know that General Koon and I have put in a good word for you on the subject of promotion to a higher rank that is to be determined." 

"Really?" You sat up in your office chair, staring incredulously at your comm.

“Congratulations, L/N. Keep up the good work.”

"Need I say more?" Wolffe cast you a lopsided smile, eyes twinkling. "You're one of a kind, Y/N. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." He pulled you in for a kiss. 

"One of a kind, huh?" You mumbled into the kiss.

"That's right." Wolffe firmly believed that there wasn't a single person in the galaxy that could compare to you. Your ingenuity, astuteness, and acuity illuminated the black-and-white, never-ending crusade he had been born into.

“You’re my one and only.”

Thanks for reading - I really appreciate it.

Let me know if you want to be a part of my general or Star Wars taglists.

[the-kr8tor]

AWW THE BDAS TWINS!! You wrote them so well I love it<3 Daily Hobie HC! Hobie in dorky glasses. Need I say more? The entire time you've been with Hobie, which is around a year and a half now, you've never seen him with glasses. It's obvious that he desperately needs them at times, his spidey-senses practically being in place of his eyes at times, especially in fights. Despite the fact your partner is blinder than a bat around the boathouse, with only his spidey senses making him narrowly miss bumping into everything, you still love him. However, the one thing that surprised you the most was that Hobie does wear glasses. He just never wants too due to the fact he felt dorky in them. While he was reading some notes for a song he'd been trying to learn for you, he's surprised when the door opens and it's you. Hobie frowns with feigned pettiness the moment he sees you process the fact he has his glasses on, throwing the sheet music away and crossing his arms. You can't help but giggle yourself into breathless state at the way he looks so cute and dorky at the same time, especially with such a deep frown like that. He pouts, leaning back on the bed as he moves to take his glasses off, only to be caught off-guard when you desperately plead for him to keep them on through laughter. Hobie watches as you stumble closer, trying to swallow your giggling as to not make him feel more embarrassed, but you can't help it. He looks way too cute. Hobie feels you gently put the glasses back on his face, sitting next to him on the bed and pulling him into a hug, peppering his temple with giggly kisses as he just pouts. He couldn't understand the way you kept laughing, yet begged for him to keep it on. Either way, eventually your laughter got to him after a bit, causing him to fondly roll his eyes at you as you hurriedly explain about how you're giggling because of how cute he looks. Hobie scoffs playfully, his palm pressed against your face and pushing you back against the bed as he gets up to hide the sheet of paper away from you, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Once he hid away the sheet music by kicking it somewhere, he climbed onto the bed with you, watching you finally compose yourself after a solid 20 minutes. Hobie lays back against the headboard, instinctively going to remove the glasses from his face as he beckons you to lay on his chest and tell him about your day. Hobie lets out a fake, overdramatic sigh as you quickly remind him to keep his glasses on, snuggling up to him and resting your head on his shoulder as you rambled on about what you did while you were gone. At one point during the never-ending conversation, you had stretched up to kiss his forehead out of affection, or so he thought, until he realized you were purposefully fogging up his glasses. Hobie pinched your side playfully to get you to back off and let him clean his glasses, mumbling about ideas for revenge, such as putting ice down your shirt. -🐦‍⬛

Yay! Glad you loved it!

Daily Hobie HC ‼️

GAHHHHH HOBIE WITH GLASSES!!! I can imagine him having ones that are thick af like the butt of a drinking glass!! It's so big that his eyes either go really big or really small depending on his prescription!! Either way he'd be so adorable!! Me teasing him about it would be like teasing myself tho lmaooo me and my blind ass teasing his also poor eyesight would be a self burn HAHHAHAHHA

Fr tho I'd ask him to wear it more bc him not wearing it would make his eyesight worse!! And then he has to buy a new prescription and glasses are expensive af!

[narcissosbythepool]

Fluffy pining stage PriceGaz dancing (crossposted from twitter, edited lightly)

Edit: now also on ao3!

Price and Gaz are at their current base, having some sort of meeting at Price's office, when suddenly from somewhere they start hearing music - something old, jazzy, from 30s or 40s, a rich voice echoing all over the base.

Someone's playing dance music, obviously, some party down the hallway, the sound is muffled by the walls and door in between, but clear all the same. Price and Gaz make eye contact, both slightly startled by the sudden noise. Gaz recovers first:

"Music from your childhood,sir?"

"Very funny, Sergeant," Price replies but answers Gaz's cheeky smile with his own. "I'm not quite that old. Though I do know this one."

"Figured you'd like something like this."

"Really?"

"Fits your style," Gaz grins.

Price raises his brow, amused by Gaz's teasing.

"Does it now?"

They get back to business after the exchange, going over some administrative documents, when Price starts humming along to the music and the corner of Gaz's mouth twitches. It's been a relaxing evening of just the two spending time together, even if it has been in a work context, and the atmosphere is casual, almost intimate. Perhaps this makes Gaz more daring than he would usually be.

"Fancy a dance, sir?" Gaz asks - he means it as a joke but when Price meets his eyes, he seems to be considering the idea.

"Haven't danced in years."

"I won't judge."

"Do you know how to dance, Garrick?"

Gaz shrugs. "Enough, I guess."

Price regards him for a moment and then gets up, circles the desk and offers his hand to Gaz.

"Why don't you show me, then?" Price dares him, but his eyes are soft. Gaz feels his cheeks heat up, and he takes Price's hand, lets himself be pulled up. Price doesn't let him go, keeps holding his hand and puts the other on Gaz's upper waist.

"I'll lead," he says, his voice rough. Gaz carefully raises his free hand on Price's shoulder.

"A bit presumptuous."

"I'm pulling rank."

"That's cheating, sir."

Price's smile is warm, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Don't complain now, not many get this chance."

"Thank you, sir," Gaz says, aims for humour but lands in sincere. He feels self-conscious caught in Price's attention ‐ it's not unpleasant, quite the opposite, but to have his attention fully, in close proximity, is overwhelming.

At first Price just gently starts swaying in place, and Gaz takes the first careful step, relieved by the chance to look down at their feet and try not to concentrate on the warmth of Price's hand against his green t-shirt, army standard - Price has an identical one, the fabric soft under his hands.

Without looking at Price, he slides his hand slowly from Price's shoulder to his neck, teases the short hair there with his fingertips, and Price's breath stutters a little, his hand squeezing Gaz's own.

The dance starts out slow, and they still keep a friendly distance between them, but when Gaz finally raises his gaze, he finds Price already looking. He looks serious now, studying Gaz's face intensely, and then a little smile breaks through again.

"Not bad, Garrick," he says, his voice quiet and gruff. Intimate.

Gaz swallows.

"I always learn fast, sir."

"That you do," Price chuckles.

He raises their arms, his hold on Gaz's waist lighter.

"Spin for me?"

Gaz huffs out a nervous laugh, and then spins around, returning to Price's arms and they both laugh out loud this time - Price spins him again, just for the fun of it, and this time as he pulls Gaz back in, Gaz folds himself against his chest. He buries his fingers in the collar of Price's shirt, daring to rest his temple against Price's neck.

"This is nice," he confesses against Price's skin, and Price rests his head on top of Gaz's, closing his eyes.

"It is, isn't it," he murmurs back. They stay there swaying in place even as the music finally fades.

[fcble]

In which Byeonghwi has a crush. FEATURING: Lim Byeonghwi, Kim Gicheol WORD COUNT: 6.8k SETTING: September 2016 WARNINGS / NOTES: Smoking. This was not supposed to be this long but here we are. Happy pride month.

Halfway through Byeonghwi’s third year of middle school, he gets a new seatmate. It’s not his choice. Haeju, who sat there for most of the year, has transferred somewhere else. Sitting alone was lonely in the beginning, but Byeonghwi is used to it. His friends always tell him how jealous they are that he gets two desks to himself.

All the space is luxurious, until the day an unfamiliar boy with headphones wrapped around his neck and a skateboard tucked under one arm walks into the classroom seconds before class starts. His entrance is intercepted by the teacher, who forces him to introduce himself to the class.

The new boy does a quick, half-hearted bow. He slouches as he stands. The top three buttons of his uniform shirt are unbuttoned, and his tie is crooked. “I’m Kim Gicheol. I moved here last week.”

Byeonghwi can’t imagine why anyone would choose to move out here, to such a small city, where the greatest attraction is a railroad connection.

Gicheol takes the only seat left in the classroom, right next to Byeonghwi. He would fit in better in the back, where a group of boys and a couple of girls are dressed almost exactly like him, missing only the skateboard.

Next to him, Byeonghwi feels uptight and a little self-conscious in comparison. He shifts slightly to the left to give Gicheol as much space as he needs. He spends the rest of the morning so consciously aware that there’s another person next to him that he doesn’t hear a single word about what they’re supposed to be learning. 

When it’s finally lunch time, Byeonghwi expects Gicheol to gravitate towards people more like him. He doesn’t expect him to make a beeline straight for him in the crowded cafeteria.

Gicheol’s lunch tray hits the table with a loud thunk, interrupting Byeonghwi’s conversation with Jundae.

“You don’t mind me sitting here, do you?” Gicheol asks, sitting in the empty seat next to Byeonghwi without giving him a chance to say no.

“You’re the new boy,” Chaewook says with his mouth full from Byeonghwi’s other side. “I’m Chaewook. Byeonghwi’s neighbor and best friend. We’re not in the same class.”

“That’s Jundae, and that’s Woong,” Byeonghwi says, introducing the two other boys that sit across from them. “They sit in front of us in class.”

“It’s so unfair that everyone except me was placed into the same homeroom,” Chaewook complains, still eating.

Jundae shrugs. “Not our fault.”

After that, the conversation turns to Gicheol. They grill him for his backstory to learn that he moved to Jecheon from Paju with his mother and grandmother. He doesn’t have any siblings, but he did have a dog until they moved. The dog stayed behind in Paju with one of his cousins. The only thing he won’t talk about is why he moved.

“I won’t stay here for a long time,” Gicheol says. “I’m going to move to Seoul. I want to be an idol.”

Byeonghwi exchanges a glance with Chaewook, and then they both break out in laughter. Even the usually stoic Woong cracks a smile. Maybe it’s unfair, because he’s just met Gicheol. But Byeonghwi can’t picture him, with his skateboard and his sloppy uniform, singing and dancing in perfect synchronization.

Gicheol stops eating. “It’s not that funny.”

“You don’t look like an idol,” Jundae says. 

“I know.” Gicheol stabs a gamja jorim with both his chopsticks. “It’s my stupid dream.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jundae says. “But whatever, if that’s what you think.”

Gicheol becomes Byeonghwi's friend very quickly. If he had to describe him in one word, it would be cool. There’s no looking past it. Gicheol is cool. He rides a skateboard and listens to loud American rock music and carries a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket.

Even after his status as the new guy wears off, he still stands out. He dresses himself differently and holds himself differently. Byeonghwi is entranced. He starts making excuses for the two of them to hang out without anyone else.

He learns more about his boring city through Gicheol’s tourist eyes. Everywhere is new. The mall, frequented by only the most geriatric citizens, becomes a place of endless fascination. He explores the parks and side streets and alleyways. He hikes out to the mountains and rivers, goes for swims in nothing but his underwear, shivering the entire time. He smokes his first cigarette in an abandoned rail tunnel, coughing while Gicheol thumps him sympathetically on the back.

The one thing Byeonghwi doesn’t have the courage for is skipping school. He’ll be in high school soon, and then university, and he simply can’t afford to miss a day. Gicheol skips, every now and then. Byeonghwi covers for him, saying he’s sick or his mom’s car broke down, even when lying makes him feel like he’s riddled with guilt. He doesn’t know where Gicheol goes or what he does, just that he always returns the next day without fail, saying nothing about his absence. 

“Where do you go, when you aren’t in school?” Byeonghwi asks once he finally builds up the courage to do so.

The abandoned rail tunnel has become their spot. The two of them sit there now, padding the hard ground with old blankets stolen—borrowed—from Byeonghwi’s house. Most of the light comes from a flashlight laying on the ground, to supplement the little sunlight that trickles into the man-made cave.

In response, Gicheol pulls out his pack of cigarettes and flips the lid open, offering it to Byeonghwi. Confused, Byeonghwi takes one. Gicheol follows suit. He lights them both for the two of them, and inhales deeply before he says anything.

Gicheol exhales a cloud of smoke. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”

The lit cigarette dangles from Byeonghwi’s hand. He’s gotten only marginally better since his first time. “I won’t laugh,” he promises.

“I go to auditions,” he says.

“Auditions?” Byeonghwi repeats.

“Auditions to become a kpop idol,” Gicheol clarifies. 

That wasn’t the great secret Byeonghwi was expecting. “That’s it?”

Gicheol takes another drag from his cigarette. “I should have made you promise not to laugh and not to ridicule me.”

“I'm not,” Byeonghwi protests. “I thought you would say something else.”

“Like what? We've known each other for months now. What did you expect?”

Byeonghwi is too ashamed to share his thoughts. He has a hard time reconciling the playful, energetic boy who's become his friend with the person who walked into the classroom that fateful day. He says as much.

Gicheol laughs. “I wear the uniform like that because it's ugly as fuck. Skateboarding is faster than walking. Smoking…” He trails off. “Halmeoni and Eomma always did it around me. I thought it was normal. Halmeoni’s so absent-minded. She doesn’t notice if a pack or two disappears.”

Byeonghwi side-steps his words. “You travel to Seoul by yourself?”

“It isn’t hard after the first time.”

Byeonghwi could never do that. Traveling around his hometown is one thing, because he's lived in the same place his entire life, and he knows exactly what it's like. Traveling some five or more hours across the country to a much different, much larger city is terrifying. 

“If you’re not going to smoke, I’ll take that,” Gicheol says with a nod to the lit cigarette still in Byeonghwi’s hand.

Byeonghwi hands it to him wordlessly.

Something changes again between the two of them. Gicheol reveals more bits and pieces of his life. His dad left when he was seven. Becoming an idol is the easiest way he can think of to be a celebrity, in hopes of impressing and reconnecting with his father. The real reason he moved was for his grandmother’s ailing health, because she hoped the countryside air would be better for her.

Byeonghwi does his best to be open-minded, though he wonders how Gicheol’s mom can run a household and raise him and take care of her own mother all at the same time. He accompanies Gicheol to the local dance studio on Thursdays after school, the one day a week Byeonghwi doesn’t go to hagwon or have soccer practice. He was previously unaware such a place existed.

Gicheol fits in there with the same ease it took him to become one of Byeonghwi’s good friends. He greets everyone by name, introducing Byeonghwi as they go along to an empty practice room. 

It’s dingy and a bit dark, even with the lights on. The floor reminds him of that of a gym, complete with scratches and scuff marks. The opposite wall is covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. A bar around waist height spans the length of another wall.

Byeonghwi drops his backpack to the floor, shutting the door behind him. “Do you ever have an audience?” he asks.

“I used to, before I moved.” Gicheol connects his phone to the room’s speaker. “Sometimes I’d perform with some friends.”

“I’ll be your audience.” It comes out much more eager and enthusiastic than he intended.

Gicheol doesn’t seem to notice. “You would? Thanks.”

Before long, Byeonghwi becomes a fixture. Not in the regular dancer sort of way, but more like a furniture fixture.

“You can't come here only to watch,” Gicheol says.

But Byeonghwi likes watching him. He likes sitting on the floor or standing off to the side, entranced by the way Gicheol makes the music become part of him. It’s obvious to him, who knows nothing about music or dance, how good Gicheol is. He’s like a different person when he dances, and in a good way. Byeonghwi loves seeing him so clearly skilled and impassioned.

“I’ll teach you,” he offers.

Byeonghwi laughs nervously. “You don’t have to do that.”

Then he thinks about all the new and exciting and enjoyable experiences he’s had with Gicheol that he never would have had otherwise. He thinks about how Gicheol’s sole after school and sometimes weekend activity is coming here and dancing. He can’t take his words back.

“I want to,” Gicheol insists, oblivious to the turmoil in Byeonghwi’s head.

Byeonghwi pretends to be reluctant as he agrees.

So he becomes not a furniture fixture, but a human fixture, always in the company of Gicheol. If he knew what Gicheol’s teaching style was like, he would have accepted without hesitating at all. Gicheol can’t describe with his words what he wants Byeonghwi to do, so he positions him in front of the mirror and guides him through the movements.

Every place on Byeonghwi’s body that he touches sends another pulse of warmth through him. Each evening, he remembers all of the individual touches, whether it was a gentle guiding nudge, or a full movement of his arm.

Byeonghwi picks it up fast. It comes as a surprise. Part of it, he thinks, is that maybe he has a natural disposition for it that he never would have found otherwise. The other part of it is that he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to impress Gicheol.

The surprise when in his voice when he says, “You’re pretty good” is the greatest thing Byeonghwi has ever heard. 

He flushes at the compliment and makes it his main goal to please and surprise Gicheol, in pursuit of that same feeling over and over again.

As time passes, Byeonghwi is able to keep up more and more. He practices on his own without telling Gicheol: well within the confines of his bedroom, on sleepless nights when he can’t think of anything other than what he’ll do the next time they see each other. 

They learn kpop choreographies, because that’s what Gicheol has to know. Byeonghwi is only along for the ride. He sits back and watches as Gicheol stares at a video on his phone, moving one arm and his legs as he starts memorizing the moves. It takes him a few rewatches for him to get the general gist of each dance. Then he’ll teach the steps to Byeonghwi, who has yet to master the art of learning from watching a video on a tiny screen.

It amuses them both to no end that Gicheol is always the one out of breath by the end of a song, when he’s been dancing for much longer than Byeonghwi has. Outwardly, Byeonghwi blames it on the years he spent playing soccer. Inwardly, he knows it’s because he’s around Gicheol. If Gicheol asked him to jump, his only question would be how high?

“Something is going on with you,” Chaewook declares one evening. They're sitting on the floor of Byeonghwi's living room, supposedly working on their homework. A plate of sliced watermelon and some rinds sits between them.

Byeonghwi is doing his homework. Chaewook is eating.

“Nothing is going on,” Byeonghwi says.

“You're acting strange. Like you're not really here.”

“How can I do that?”

“Somehow.”

Chaewook has four older sisters. It seems to make him more susceptible to emotions. It's also why he likes to spend evenings at Byeonghwi's house.

He snaps his fingers. Byeonghwi looks up.

“I know why,” Chaewook says. He swallows the rest of his food quickly. “It has to do with Gicheol.”

Byeonghwi feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest and a surge of heat rush through his body. “It has nothing to do with Gicheol,” he says.

Chaewook stares him down. “You spend more time with him than you do with me. It's suspicious.”

“You count?” Byeonghwi says, deflecting the accusation, because it's true. He's been blowing off his friends a lot lately with excuses—his parents need him to run errands, he isn't feeling well, he has to study extra for the next test. They’re not completely lies. Sometimes Byeonghwi rushes through his chores and spends the rest of the time with Gicheol. Sometimes he tells himself he’s feeling fine when he’s not, or only skims over his notes. It’s all for Gicheol. Byeonghwi doesn’t know how he existed without him. It’s like his life only started the day the two of them met.

“I don't think it's good that you hang out with him so much.” Chaewook lowers his voice. “I heard he was in a gang in Seoul. Every time he skips school it's to go participate in gang activities. Yookyung-noona told me she saw him at a bar last weekend. I heard he has a fake ID to buy soju and cigarettes.”

Yookyung is Chaewook’s second oldest sister, flirty and flighty and a gossip. Byeonghwi wouldn’t take her word for it, because nothing else he just heard is true. The only one with the slightest bit of truth is Gicheol’s smoking habit. Chaewook would have an aneurysm if he knew Byeonghwi had also participated in it.

“Gicheol isn't from Seoul,” Byeonghwi says. He doesn’t reveal why Gicheol skips school. It feels like their little secret, something he clearly never revealed to anyone except Byeonghwi.

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” Chaewook insists. 

There’s no winning with him. Byeonghwi can’t make an empty promise to not spend time with Gicheol, so he says, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He puts his head down and goes back to his work, signaling to Chaewook that he’s done talking about this.

“Let’s go to an audition,” Gicheol says. It’s a freezing January evening, but they sit outside anyway, two bundled-up figures on the stone wall bordering the parking lot of their school.

For once, Gicheol isn’t smoking. He sits on his hands instead. “I heard of one next month. It’s a new company, but the founder used to work for SM Entertainment. They’re saying that if you can pass that audition, you can pass an SM one.”

“When is it?” Byeonghwi asks. He doesn’t think he has any of his own desire to participate. 

“February third.”

Byeonghwi runs through the calendar in his head. They graduate a little over a week after that, on a Saturday. “There’s school that day.”

“It’s almost the end of the school year,” Gicheol says. “It doesn’t matter if you miss one day. Have you never skipped class?”

Byeonghwi shakes his head. “No.” He can see his breath, a little white cloud of air that quickly evaporates into the dark sky.

“So let's do it. Once.”

Byeonghwi thinks about it. It never occurred to him that he could make his own choices and not go to school if he didn't want to go to school. Wants have always been difficult for him. He knows what it feels like to want something, that yearning tug in his chest. It's just that the feeling is always accompanied by one of wrongness, quickly followed by guilt.

He doesn't know if it's possible to want a person, but there's something about Gicheol that gives him the same feeling. Byeonghwi makes every excuse he can to spend hours with him, to feel the sparks that shoot up his spine when they sit like this, pressed hip to shoulder under the guise of warmth. It's an unfamiliar yet pleasant feeling, the way his heart rattles in his rib cage so frantically he thinks it might burst out, the way his mouth goes dry and his tongue twists when he tries to speak, when he tries to say things to make Gicheol laugh.

“Okay,” Byeonghwi agrees. “I'll go, once. I won’t audition, but I’ll go with you.”

He thinks about all the time they’ll have together: the almost five hour train rides each way, the rest of the day with the city at their fingertips. 

Gicheol wraps Byeonghwi up in a one-arm hug. It does nothing against the cold, yet Byeonghwi feels warmed from somewhere deep inside himself.

Later, he regrets it. The date of the audition draws closer, and Byeonghwi is forced to confront the reality of lying to his parents. He spends sleepless nights tossing and turning, wondering just how he’ll stomach it all. The thrill of spending an entire day with Gicheol does nothing to dampen his guilt.

His stomach churns in circles when the night before the audition finally arrives. They have everything planned out: Byeonghwi will sleep over at Gicheol’s house with its more absent-minded adults, citing a school project, and then they’ll sneak out early in the morning. By the time the rest of the city wakes up for school and work, they’ll be well on their way to Seoul.

Everything goes according to plan. Gicheol wakes Byeonghwi before the sun, and they slip out the door, shivering, to the train station.

The train is much warmer inside than outside. They sit in one of the middle cars, trying not to call attention to themselves. They're two teenagers and it's a weekday. It's a bit obvious that they should be in school.

Byeonghwi makes this more obvious by working on his homework. Gicheol had let him sit by the window so he could see the scenery on the way to Seoul. Byeonghwi stares at his math homework instead. 

Gicheol doesn't do much. He puts on his playlist of audition songs. There are only five of them. They share one pair of earbuds, the left side for Byeonghwi and the right for Gicheol. Byeonghwi is sick of the songs an hour into the ride.

Other than that, he stares past Byeonghwi out the window and wanders around the train and comes back with food. They eat as the landscape rolls by, nothing but empty wilderness.

Byeonghwi teaches Gicheol the basics of Go. They play on Byeonghwi's phone, passing it between the two of them with each move. It takes a few games for Gicheol to pick it up. Byeonghwi beats him handily six times in a row.

It’s easy to tell when they’ve reached Seoul. They passed through other, smaller cities on the way, but none of them can compare to the glittering skyscrapers and crowded blocks of the capital. It’s an almost entirely new experience for Byeonghwi, who hasn’t been to Seoul since he was six. 

Gicheol leads the way, striding out of the terminal with confidence. He walks faster than he normally does. Byeonghwi hurries to keep pace. 

Eventually, they find their way to the location of the audition. It’s easy to tell that they’re at the right place, judging by the line of teenage boys, young men, and some parents that snakes around the theater where the audition is taking place. Everything in the area screams at Byeonghwi that he doesn’t belong: the polish on every single other person he sees, the speeds at which the crowds move, the undercurrent of grime on the streets.

Gicheol is no exception either. He’s dressed nicer than Byeonghwi has ever seen him, wearing the slightest hint of makeup with immaculately styled hair he arranged on the train ride.

Byeonghwi follows him to a young woman who marks the end of the line. She holds a clipboard balanced on a stack of paper.

“Are you registered or a walk-in?” she asks, sounding bored.

Gicheol flashes her a bright smile and says, “Registered. For Kim Gicheol.”

He emphasizes each syllable of his name and the woman scans her list. Byeonghwi catches sight of name after name after name, words so tightly printed on the page he wonders how she can read it.

She checks his name off the list. “You have your paperwork?”

Gicheol takes it out of his backpack and shows her he's completed it.

The woman nods and turns to Byeonghwi. “And you?”

“I'm not auditioning,” he says quickly, trying to wave her away.

She looks him up and down and says, “You should try.” She hands Byeonghwi a blank form and moves on.

Holding the paper like it's contagious, he looks at the questions. They're all fairly straightforward: name, age, height, weight, talents and skills, on and on and on. 

“You should try it out,” Gicheol says.

“Can I see what you wrote?” Byeonghwi asks.

There are no surprises on Gicheol's paper. It makes sense. Byeonghwi knows his name and age. His desired position is dance. His favorite artist is Infinite. His special skills and talents are acrobatics and his tenacity. Byeonghwi doesn’t think that second one should count, but he is very tenacious.

He retrieves a pen from his pencil case. There's a spot on the paper where he can attach a picture of himself. That's not possible when he's standing here in line. He draws a stick figure self-portrait. He takes a guess at his height and weight, then adds a few centimeters to his height and knocks a few kilograms off his weight. He fumbles answers to the rest of the questions. He lists IU as his favorite artist—that sounds fine. His previous experiences with singing, acting, or modeling—none.

At the front of the line, they’re waved in in groups of ten and led to a backstage dressing room. There, their papers are collected, and they're given instructions of what comes next. The auditions take place in groups, to save time. Each of them will get a minute to introduce themselves and demonstrate their skills for the judges.

Gicheol sits on the floor of the dressing room and takes deep breaths. Byeonghwi has a sudden flood of empathy for cattle. He feels like livestock, with the way they're being herded everywhere. 

He doesn't talk to anyone else. One of the other guys in their group insists on playing his music out loud, very loudly, and practicing his dance. Gicheol stares daggers at his back until Byeonghwi distracts him with an extremely tense game of Go.

Then they move again, up a sloping hallway to one of the stage wings. From here, Byeonghwi can hear everything happening on stage. He listens to one auditionee sing. He doesn't sound bad.

A voice—one of the judges, presumably—says through a microphone, “Next,” cutting off the original singer. 

The next person introduces himself, and an upbeat dance track starts to play over the speakers. A few seconds in, the same voice stops him.

“Is this normal?" Byeonghwi whispers to Gicheol.

Gicheol shakes his head. “They usually see out your whole audition. It's polite, even if your performance is bad.”

This does not bode well for Byeonghwi. He hears only two auditions in full: one rapper who performs a whole forty-five second verse, and one vocalist who introduces himself in four languages before he sings an American pop song in flawless English.

Then it's their turn. Byeonghwi is eighth in line. Gicheol is seventh.

Byeonghwi blinks against the bright stage lights, but he doesn't squint. He tries to stay relaxed, forcing a pleasant expression onto his face. There are about seven people sitting in a row in the audience, mostly middle-aged men. Only the one in the middle holds a microphone. He must have been the one speaking and ending auditions early. 

“You may begin,” the man in the middle says.

The first of Byeonghwi's group is cut off halfway through his song. Byeonghwi forces himself to breathe. It isn't a big deal, if he’s cut off, he tells himself. He never planned to be here. What does he expect?

Two of the people before Byeonghwi and Gicheol get to perform in full. One of them is the dancer with the obnoxiously loud music. Then it's Gicheol's turn. He steps forward, announces his name loudly and fully, and starts his prepared dance routine.

Byeonghwi loves watching Gicheol dance. To be fair, he loves watching Gicheol do anything. Having seen the work he put into his craft and his final performance is a special experience, and one only he gets to have.

The seconds tick on and on. Byeonghwi waits for the inevitable signal that Gicheol's attempt is over and it's his turn.

It never comes. Gicheol's music draws to a close. He strikes an ending pose and holds it for a second, before bowing and thanking the judges. He steps back in line and grins from ear to ear at Byeonghwi.

Emboldened by his friend's success, Byeonghwi steps forward.

“Hello, my name is Lim Byeonghwi.” He bows formally, a full ninety degree bend at the waist. He holds it for maybe a beat too long, and has to push his bangs out of his eyes when he stands up.

“I’ll be singing ‘Shall I Love You Again’ by Kim Dong Ryul.”

Then he starts to sing. He picked an older song—a song the same age as him—because he thought the judges would be older. He was right on that one. Byeonghwi keeps his eyes not on the people evaluating him but the row slightly above them. Since he never heard it with Gicheol, he expects his performance to be cut short. 

It doesn't happen. He finishes his prepared verse and chorus, heartbeat triple what it should be. Then Byeonghwi bows formally again, and steps back into line.

Neither of them pass. Byeonghwi thought their performances weren't bad. At least they were able to complete their auditions. Gicheol has faced rejection so many times it’s normal to him. 

Byeonghwi never entertains the idea of auditioning ever again.

They graduate middle school and start high school. Gicheol misses the second and the fifteenth and the eighteenth days. The seat next to Byeonghwi remains cold and empty.

After school on the eighteenth day, Gicheol calls him. Byeonghwi is on his way to hagwon with Jundae and Chaewook. He slows down his walking pace, earning himself a questioning look from Jundae.

“I passed the audition!” Gicheol says over the phone. The joy in his voice is evident. Byeonghwi wishes he could see his face.

“Congratulations! That’s great,” Byeonghwi says.

He’s happy for him, of course. Gicheol participated in so many auditions, only to be rejected at the first or second phase. It was about time his skills were acknowledged.

“I thought I wasn’t going to make it,” Gicheol says. “I was nervous, because it was only my third time doing a third round audition. I forgot one of the lyrics. But I kept performing, and they liked that. My train’s almost here. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

The line clicks.

“He passed an idol audition,” Byeonghwi explains to his friends.

“He’s still into that?” Jundae asks.

“It’s his dream.”

Jundae snorts. “It’s stupid.”

Byeonghwi doesn’t think it’s stupid. He still thinks Gicheol is cool, and so by extension, whatever he wants is also cool.

They continue in silence to hagwon.

Gicheol comes back that night flush with excitement.

“They gave me the offer while I was still there,” he says when Byeonghwi meets him at the station.

It’s late at night, but Gicheol’s energy is invigorating. After a few hours of cramming his head full of Korean history dates, he needs this.

They walk slowly back home. It’s cold, but in a pleasant way, not the piercing cold that somehow penetrates all of Byeonghwi’s layers during the depths of winter.

“They said I could move in as soon as I wanted. The company is small, so I wasn’t sure what they’d offer. They house all their trainees together and I won’t have to pay for anything until I debut.” Gicheol chatters away, more excited than Byeonghwi’s ever heard him.

He’s happy, so Byeonghwi should be too. But what he feels instead is dread. He knew Gicheol would leave eventually. It shouldn’t be so surprising, and it shouldn’t hurt the way it does.

“When will you be on TV?” he asks lightly, burying the dread deep down.

“I don’t know yet,” Gicheol says, looking slightly crestfallen. “I’m only a trainee until my agency thinks I’m ready to debut. I’d do it now, if I could.”

“I’ll wait,” Byeonghwi says, “for as long it takes.”

Gicheol gives him a strange look. Byeonghwi’s heart stops. He’s said the wrong thing, and now Gicheol thinks he’s weird and won’t want to be friends with him anymore and—

“I guess that makes you my first fan,” Gicheol says.

Byeonghwi feels like he’s soaring.

Gicheol loses access to his phone. He warns Byeonghwi of this in advance. It still surprises and worries him when his texts remain unread and unanswered except for a very specific period of a few hours on the weekends. 

Byeonghwi memorizes it. He makes sure he’s available, evading Chaewook and locking himself in his bedroom to smile at his phone screen when Gicheol finally texts back. It pales in comparison to having the real Gicheol next to him. 

Looking back at his old texts after nearly a week always feels a bit weird. He’s sure whatever problems and news he has can’t hold a candle to Gicheol’s new idol and city experiences. He’s afraid Gicheol will see them and laugh, or consider his messages trivial and childish. He’s probably busy making cooler, more interesting friends than Byeonghwi.

But Gicheol responds to everything diligently, reacting appropriately to every message. Sometimes Byeonghwi calls and tells him all of the rumors that popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, following Gicheol’s move to Seoul. They laugh about the ridiculousness of one of the latest reasons: Gicheol is secretly a chaebol heir, who had to flee in the first place because of arguments and assassination attempts over who the company really belonged to.

Byeonghwi brings up some of the older ones too, like the bars and the fake ID. He expects Gicheol to laugh along with those too, until he says, “I do have a fake.”

Byeonghwi stops laughing. “You do?”

“I thought it might be useful, but I don’t use it,” Gicheol says.

There are no situations Byeonghwi would ever find himself in that a fake ID would help him in. He stays quiet, and Gicheol changes the subject.

Byeonghwi continues to send his highlights during the week, and Gicheol responds over the weekends. Sometimes they call, sometimes they text.

And then one weekend, Byeonghwi gets a text with perfect grammar and punctuation. It reads, simply enough, Please stop contacting me. Gicheol doesn’t text like that. He never uses punctuation and drops all his particles. Byeonghwi responds with a number of question marks. His message isn’t even read, despite it still being within the two hour time period Gicheol usually has his phone.

He calls, twice. Both times, Gicheol’s phone rings and rings and rings. Byeonghwi listens to his voice mail message just to hear his voice.

Time ticks on and on. Gicheol never responds. Byeonghwi lies listlessly in bed, staring at his blank phone screen.

A few weeks later, he receives another call. This one is from Zenith Entertainment, with a revision of results from the audition he attended. They want him to audition again. He thinks about Gicheol living in Seoul and the Gicheol-shaped hole in his heart. It’s only been a little over a month since he left. It might as well be a lifetime. Byeonghwi immediately accepts.

The woman on the other end of the line asks if he's available tomorrow. Byeonghwi thinks about how he's supposed to go to school, and tells her he can make it.

The train ride is lonely without Gicheol. He listens to music for most of it, reviewing the few songs and choreographies he does know. He spends the rest of the ride assuring his friends he's fine and hasn’t been replaced by an alien with a willingness to bend the rules who happens to look like him—Chaewook’s words.

From the Seoul station, he navigates to the address he was given. When he checked the map earlier, the building was marked as a copywriting agency. Byeonghwi remembers Gicheol telling him about how the company is new—he remembers every small detail Gicheol has ever mentioned to him—and decides he’ll trust the woman on the phone.

The sign on the building reads “SEOUL COPYWRITERS INCORPORATED,” just like it does online. Byeonghwi stares at it for a moment and double checks his location. He stands on the sidewalk for a moment, weighing his options.

Then the double doors swing open and a young man walks out, dressed in a loose button-up tucked into a pair of slacks. Byeonghwi figures he’s a copywriting employee, until he calls out, “Lim Byeonghwi? For Zenith Entertainment?”

Byeonghwi almost jumps. “Yes, that’s me.”

The young man smiles at him. “I’m Jaeseop.” He holds his right hand out, Western-style. Byeonghwi hurries to shake it. Jaeseop’s grip is firm and solid. It’s oddly comforting.

“I know the signs are confusing,” Jaeseop says as they enter the building together. “The company offices are on the third floor. I keep saying we need our own sign, but apparently it’s easier for me to go up and down every time.”

The first floor appears to be a lobby of some sorts. A young woman sitting behind a computer screen looks up when they first walk in. She turns back to her work as they head toward the elevator. 

The elevator arrives quickly, giving Byeonghwi barely any time to take in the rest of the building’s interior. They ride up to the third floor in silence.

He feels inappropriately dressed. He thought this would be an idol audition with singing and dancing. He wonders if every small entertainment company looks like this.

The elevator opens to a long hallway with doors on both sides. Jaeseop leads him almost all the way down the hallway.

“We’ll be in here,” he says, pushing open a door and gesturing for Byeonghwi to step inside first.

It looks like a conference room. Most of the room is occupied by a long table with twelve chairs. The walls are white and featureless. One of them has a shelf built on it, empty and white and featureless. A projector screen along another wall seems to be only decoration, if that even counts as a decoration.

A middle-aged man, the same one who sat in the middle at the audition, sits at the table with a laptop and a few papers in front of him. The top one is Byeonghwi’s audition form. There are a number of pictures of his face paperclipped to the top, printed on glossy photo paper. He only vaguely remembers taking a few photos on the way out from his audition.

The man faces the door, looking up when Byeonghwi and Jaeseop arrive.

“Have a seat, Byeonghwi,” he says, nodding at the chair opposite of him. Byeonghwi sits.

Jaeseop crosses the room and takes a seat next to the man.

“My name is Lee Taein,” the man says. “I’m the founder and CEO of Zenith Entertainment.”

Byeonghwi surges to his feet so he can execute a formal ninety-degree bow. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he says formally. The only knowledge he has about kpop auditions is what he’s heard from Gicheol, and he never mentioned anything about a talk with his label’s CEO.

“Likewise,” Taein says, sounding amused. 

Byeonghwi doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. He sits back down.

“Let’s start with you,” Taein says. “Tell me about yourself.”

“My name is Lim Byeonghwi,” he begins, like Taein doesn’t know his name. “I was born in Jecheon, and I’ve lived there my entire life.”

Jaeseop nods encouragingly, and Byeonghwi continues on. 

“I’m a high school first year. I was part of my middle school’s soccer team. I stopped playing in high school because I thought I should concentrate on my academics and pursue other interests.”

He leaves it open-ended for them to assume that another interest of his is being an idol. His real other interest is learning what Gicheol is doing in Seoul and asking Gicheol why he stopped talking to him and finding a place for himself in Gicheol’s life. The pursuit consumes him, but Byeonghwi doesn’t mind.

Taein never asks him to sing or dance or model or anything like that. He asks a series of questions that seem to be more about Byeonghwi’s personality. What’s his greatest strength? Biggest weakness? Where does he see himself in ten years? What could he bring to a group? Has he faced any conflicts while working in a team, and how did he solve it?

Byeonghwi answers each one as honestly and thoughtfully as he can while Jaeseop takes diligent notes. He isn’t sure what Taein wants to hear. He wonders if all auditions are like this. He wonders if he should ask if he has to sing or dance again.

“For my last question, I want you to be honest.”

Byeonghwi feels nothing but relief. He needs this—whatever it is—to be over already. He’s sweating through his shirt. It’s sticking to his back and he’s afraid of raising his arms.

“Do you want to be an idol?” Taein asks.

Byeonghwi weighs the question in his head. It seems to him that the obvious answer is yes. He should want to be an idol. He thinks about lying. Would he be able to live with himself if he lied when he was explicitly asked for honesty?

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but with time, I think I could.”

Taein nods, expressionless. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. You’ll hear back from me with your results in a few days. Jaeseop will see you out.”

Zenith Entertainment doesn’t provide housing like Gicheol’s company does. Byeonghwi doesn’t learn this until after he accepts the final offer and is faced with the extremely daunting task of moving his life to Seoul. It looked easy when Gicheol did it.

He looks at impossibly expensive apartments for a few days, despairing because he has no way of paying or living on his own. He’s beginning to think that maybe this is all over before it even began when Jaeseop saves his life.

Jaeseop, who turns out to be a trainee and not the personal assistant Byeonghwi thought he was, bears an offer from another trainee who lives alone. 

“He’s a few years older than you,” Jaeseop says over the phone. “And he doesn’t have another bedroom.”

When Gicheol still talked to him, Byeonghwi heard worse stories of too many people in too small rooms. He figures two people in an apartment meant for one is nowhere near as bad. 

He barely thinks before he accepts the offer. He learns only a little more about his new roommate: his name is Andrew, he’s American, he has a bachelor’s degree in music composition, he attended the same audition Byeonghwi did—how funny is that?

Byeonghwi’s head spins, thinking more of how close he is to chasing down Gicheol than how he’s uprooting his own life.

He sends Gicheol a text: moving to seoul!!! It sits, unread, beneath the few other sporadic texts Byeonghwi had sent him anyway. If he really didn’t want to talk to him, he would have blocked him or changed his number or something more drastic.

For now, he’s buoyant with hope. He’ll find Gicheol again, and everything will go back to the way it was—the way it should be.

[lowerthanapplebottomj]

For the Ones Who Gather Next.

I want to be remembered for how I loved when I had nothing left.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Limerence.

For some, but for me, I loved.

I cried and screamed in the depths with people who’ve been hurt before.

I never understood why I felt it so much, It always felt like I was going to die.

Turns out they had a knife behind their back the entire time dripping red from the last person.

It dripped on the floor, and started bleeding into the molding.

Rage is imbedded in the bones of this house.

Blood, sweat and tears are smeared into the walls.

It was a transcendent.

I lived and died here behind this doorway.

My former self is buried somewhere under the concrete in the basement.

There’s a jar with two hearts in it somewhere in my room.

When it gets quiet,

You can still hear the screaming from years of lost loves, and betrayal.

My self hatred, and the darkness that almost swallowed me whole.

But I also hope that you hear my healing, I hope you hear my strength.

The gatherings on holidays and spontaneous dinners.

The 3am drunken laughter from endless nights of warmth with the beautiful souls who helped love me back to life.

Maybe you’ll see apparitions of me and all my favorite people chasing my dog down the street because he got out for the 50th time.

Even though the landlord can’t fix a fence for shit,

I still hope you fall in love with the back porch and the oak tree.

I hope on a still night, you go in the back yard and feel loved while you talk beautiful nonsense with a lover or friend.

I’m sure you’ll hear my inner child singing out there somewhere.

She handed me flower seeds

Water them with new experiences and the language of letting go.

I cannot grow them here.

I need to move on.

This place that once was so safe and full of life, now just feels like a black hole.

So I covered the blinds with light pink mesh curtains that filtered the entire living room with a soft glow

I flourished it with passion fruits and forest greens.

Paintings, music and art that fed every atom in my being.

The temporary bandage kept peeling off.

The years were not kind to me.

I spent a lot of time running in place.

This place.

It held all my secrets, shames and tragedies close.

Too close, So I fell in love with people who became my home,

and when they left, they kept taking pieces and bits of my soul.

Until I had nothing left.

So I’m leaving it here. For that I am sorry.

I think traces of my energy will always remain.

So for the ones who gather next,

When the strange phenomenons start to whisper to you in the middle of the night,

or If you feel bits of psychosis convinced you’re losing your mind,

Do not be afraid, don’t let it hinder

It’s just the death of me that was damned bitter.

These walls have no remorse, try not to bleed.

What’s meant to happen always has, and always will be.

[reinabeestudio]

Friends and Strangers

Weather got me worried as hell lately, so of course I wrote a oneshot involving rain. I'm a genius.

If it wasn't clear: yes, this is Wally Darling/Neighbor 🍎👑

Second time I use 'The Neighbor' as a nickname for my self-insert. I have an actual WH oc yet I use my sona anyway. I'm also very original.

The title is from a song by Dave Grusin. It's calm yet charming, it made me think of Wally ahaa;; Nice background music tho

Home can be described in many words: colorful, peaceful, lovely, heavenly. Confined

But one of the many peculiar things about the quaint little piece of Heaven was its weather. More often than not it was equable. Neither very hot nor very cold. Always clement. Perfect

Yet the Neighbor had never seen the Sun. The sky shone blue and clear, but the star was nowhere to be seen. The Moon was the same as well: a sparkling night sky with moonlight coming from somewhere. Sometimes days just felt like someone turned off the lights in the neighborhood for a few hours before turning them back on.

However, today was different. The overcast cried over Home and created a maudlin, bleak mood. Time seemed to pass as slow as molasses.

Wally Darling did not like rain.

Rarely did the little artist find something that he did not like, though rain was one of them. Because it was such a rare phenomenon that everytime it happened, the rain caught him unaware and ruined his striking blue hair. He took great pride in his appearance.

There he was now, inside Home, changed into a new outfit after taking a nice bath to forget the unpleasant surprise, this ugly weather—and most importantly, his hair styled back into his perfect pompadour. He couldn't let the others see him with his hair down, he looked horrible!

His self-care session was cut short by the sound of someone frantically knocking on his door.

“I wonder who it could be...” he pondered out loud. His huge building friend, Home, simply jiggled its doorknob. Of course it knew who it was and it would not tell him. Hurry up is all it told him.

Admittedly curious, he left the bathroom and made his way to the door. His eyes widened at the sight of the surprise visitor.

The Neighbor.

There she was, on his doorstep with an umbrella in hand. As always she wore that red dress as beautiful as an apple. And of course, that golden heart-shaped brooch, exposed to everyone. Silly. His was under the soles of his feet.

He would be elated with the visit if it wasn't for the nervous expression on her face... Did something happen?

“H-Hey. Sorry for coming over unannounced. I just thought we could, ah, hang out?” she gripped the handle of the umbrella stronger. “But I understand if this was too sudden. I'll just- I'll just leave, sorry. See y-”

“Wait, Neighbor. You can come, it's alright.” I could never deny you.

“Thanks,” she said before she hastened inside. He noticed how she glanced at the dark clouds before he closed the door.

The Neighbor looked up at the ceiling. “Hi, Home. Sorry for messing your floor with my umbrella.”

The floor under her creaked, raising and deflating like a breath. Wally laughed in his unique monotonous laughter before he took the dripping umbrella and hung it on the wall coat rack next to his yellow raincoat.

“What do I owe the pleasure, friend?”

“Well... today is so gloomy, right? It was boring by myself so I thought, let's visit my good pal Wally. I'm sure he will know what to do!”

Wally tilted his head. “Were you feeling lonely, Neighbor? And you came to your best friend to help.”

She didn't answer, but her eyes looking away was louder than words.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. It's alright. I like your idea! We can have fun.”

The Neighbor gifted him a little smile, causing a tightness in his chest. There it was again. That foreign feeling. He did not know what it was but it wasn't unpleasant thus he paid no mind. However, the rumbling sound of thunder stole that gift from him and replaced it with the saddening sight of his friend covering her ears with teary eyes.

Ah, so that was what was really going on.

The Neighbor wasn't here to kill time. She wanted comfort.

And she came for him to get it. What a touching realization, if it wasn't for the upset lady in front of him.

Wally approached her and started rubbing her back as he escorted her from the door to the colorful couch, both of them sitting down.

“It's alright, friend. We are safe here. Home protects us.”

The building creaked as if to support the statement. The Neighbor laughed mirthlessly.

“Thanks, Wally. And Home.”

Another thunder made her jump from her spot and cover her ears again. It was heart-breaking to see his beloved friend so distressed. There had to be some way to make her forget about the rain, or at least distract her from it... The rhythm of the droplets of water hammering against the windows gave him an idea.

“Stay here, friend,” he said as he got up. But he was stopped by her hand around his wrist. Aaaah....

“Don't leave me alone. Please.”

Golly, he was going to drop dead at this point. “I'm just going to get something and I'll be right back. Alright?”

“.... Alright.”

The Neighbor released his wrist, and he missed the warmth as he went to take his leave.

Wally heard Home doing its best to strike up a conversation with their guest. Home was not easy to understand. The artist himself had trouble deciphering the meaning behind the house's many onomatopoeias. But he adored Home thus he tried. And he could hear the Neighbor trying to understand it, which must mean she cared too, right?

She liked Home. She liked the other neighbors. She liked him. And she will n̸e̵̡v̨̀͢e͠ŕ abandon Home.

Ah, there it was!

He picked up the small radio next to his art supplies and made his way back to his important person. His chest tightened once more when his friend's face lit up at the sight of him.

He moved the side table closer to the couch, away from its usual spot next to his favorite chair, and set the radio on top of it.

“A radio? What for?” she asked, tilting her head in his direction with curiosity.

“Who doesn't like some music from time to time, yes?” Wally's eyes squinted mirthfully. “Moreover, a little bird told me you like music.”

Rather a large, green caterpillar. Howdy Pillar mentioned it in passing as he gave Wally his usual. At some point she visited his shop and asked if he had some kind of Cee-Dee player (what is a Cee-Dee?), alas he did not. This seemingly innocuous comment informed Wally of something important: she was longing for her previous world. No, he couldn't have the new friend miss that place nor even think about it. This was her Home, after all.

Even then, it was not a secret that she enjoyed music. She often hummed to herself, or sometimes she even sang along if she knew the lyrics. She loved music, and he loved her music.

The Neighbor twisted the dial on, an old song coming out from the machine. Wally sat down next to her as more thunder rumbled outside. The Neighbor hugged him close like a pillow. Or a puppet.

He was taken completely off-guard yet he didn't reject it. When his other friends hugged him, he gladly accepted it with a smile. But this time, he didn't just take it. For once, he lifted his shaking arms and slowly put them around his friend, a hand rubbing her back again. He even dared to indulge a bit and pressed his face into the crook of her neck as her breathing slowed down. This was working, that's good.

There were no words between them for several minutes, the only sounds amongst them were the rain and the radio playing its old songs. And he didn't move an inch, listening to her heartbeat as if it was the most interesting thing int the world.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by her stirring. With her arms still around him, she looked down at him with a soft smile. Golly, were her eyes pretty.

“Wally?”

“Yes, friend?”

“Thank you. For this. I mean it.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Don't mention it. That's what friend are for.”

The Neighbor cupped the artist's fuzzy cheeks and planted a soft kiss on them (careful to not flatten his pompadour).

“I'm glad you're my friend, then.”

His dilated pupils looked back up at her with his endless smile growing on his face, his chest burning but he did not care. His most important and beloved person.

“Of course. I'm your best friend. Always.”

[lady-assnali]

The Rosenali teacher AU but I always get excited about Rosé singing in a bar so this fic is pretty self serving.

Denali whoops, throwing her hands up in the air as the chorus of the song starts. Her body works in perfect time, legs spread and ass dropped to the floor as she flips her long blonde ponytail over one shoulder. She comes up slowly, one hand trailing up her thigh to highlight her curves and the perfect peach shape accentuated by her bodysuit. It’s been a while since she’s felt this sensation; the freedom of being alive, of being somewhere that plays her music and serves her people. Or really, just somewhere to dance without having to be subjected to the wandering hands of a strange man. No, instead there are women-New York women-who seem to be giving her a pseudo-audience. Her first night out in New York feels a little bit like freedom, like fuzzy happiness whirring around in her body. She feels good-excited-safe. Denali wraps her hands around the neck of a pretty blonde and sings along with her to the thumping music. 

When the song is over she’s just started to sweat, heat clawing at the back of her neck. Denali excuses herself to get a drink and the bar quiets, a crowd forming along the base of the little stage. The bartender hands her her tequila shot before ambling to the stage, taking a mic in hand and waving to the now packed Friday night crowd. Denali watches them squeeze their way to the front, lining the walls and all of the empty stools, talking in hushed tones. 

“Welcome to Live Fridays at the most sapphic place in town!” An echo of light laughter from the crowd. The tall, beautiful woman puts a hand on her hip, curving her slender frame slightly to one side. “Now I’m only here at the bar when your fearless leader needs me to cover so come on over and grab a drink while you can, because I’m sure her staff won’t call out all the time. Actually, on second thought, don’t even bother. I’m sure I’ll see you all back here soon, this was Mik’s shift.”

The crowd is warmed by the blunt humor of the bartender, and Denali chuckles along with them. It’s clearly an atmosphere of regulars between the looks of recognition and the way everybody seems to understand the inner workings of the bar. The bartender/pseudo host waves at a group of girls posted near the front and they call out obscenities to her in the way that only friends can do, heckling and booing and telling her to go back to the bar. She shoots them a warning glance, but it is laced with a glimmer of humor. 

“Alright, fine,” she sighs, strutting across the stage. She slides the microphone into its stand and gives a little flourish to the side of the stage, sarcastic and rude and utterly loving. “My name’s Simone and I’ll be your host for this week’s Live Fridays! These Lisa Frank bitches are here to sing some covers tonight, if you’re interested. If not, then feel free to meet me back at the bar. Give them a warm welcome because one of them quite literally owns the place, it’s Stephanie’s Child!”

Three women walk in a line from a door beside the bar to a room of cheers, taking a moment to set themselves up. They’re an eclectic trio, each with their own color story to match a palette fit for a child’s Polly Pocket set. Denali finds herself shifting forward in her seat as the blue-haired one monologues to explain their set for the night. 

Then, they start singing. 

All three have an air of confidence about them. They look between each other as if they know they’re good, lifting each other up as they take their own solo moments. Their first song is a mid-tempo Ariana Grande cover that has Denali immediately hooked. They can sing, damnit.  The purple one pulls a run at the end of their song that has the blonde up from her seat, clapping and hollering along with the rest of the crowd. Then, they shift formations. 

The pink-haired singer takes center stage, holding her mic in one hand and the wire in the other, commanding the audience with her presence. She cracks a joke and they laugh heartily, as if she’s personally friends with each and every person in the room. 

And then she sings. 

She sings, and Denali finds herself ordering another drink out of pure necessity. The ice in her glass cools her down as she crosses the room, snaking her way toward the stage (albeit a bit pushy, but nobody complains). She knows this voice, listens to this voice every day, and yet somehow she still can’t believe she’s hearing it here. It’s different here, somehow, in a way that has Denali stumped. She wouldn’t classify Rosé as a subdued person but this feels more open, more right than the way she commands the room at school. There, she’s teaching. She’s a role model, a walking textbook definition of perfected professionalism. On this stage she may be perfect, but this brand of perfect has Denali-and several others-whistling and standing in awe of her command. While the blue haired singer leads the pack and the purple hits each high note with incredible grace, Rosé has an aura of undeniable charm around her. She smiles bright and spins a lot and the audience absolutely eats it up.  Denali sways to the music, feels herself loosening up as the tequila works it’s way through her system. It’s a lot-the lights, the new scenery, Rosé lighting up with realization as their eyes meet. She doesn’t stop singing but she does wave giddily, throwing Denali a playful wink that she can’t help but reciprocate. 

The recognition sends a wave of electricity through Rosé; it’s the last thing she was expecting stepping out on stage for their regular gig, but it propels her. She hits each mark of their choreography with heightened confidence, swiveling her mic stand as her voice croons along. She watches Denali in the audience, the lights highlighting the dimples on her cheeks, the sweat on her forehead, the bounce of her braided ponytail. She watches her and simultaneously gives it everything she has, attempting not to get tripped up by the sight of her beautiful coworker standing in the crowd of her concert at the gayest bar in town.

            Somehow, it’s simultaneously one of the hardest shows she’s ever done and also the easiest. 

            The real difficulty comes with the ending of the show. After leaning over at the front of the stage to briefly chat with Denali, Jan and Lagoona run a long list of questions by her ‘backstage.’ (Sure, it’s the employee break room, but it does the job). Rosé takes them all in stride as they tease her as she repeatedly says the words friend and teacher next door and oh my god no we’re not fucking please don’t be awkward. Before they leave, she corners them at the door. 

            “Listen, my friend said she planned on sticking around, probably getting another drink. I need you to not make this weird.”

            “Us?” Jan pouts out her bottom lip and Rosé pats her cheek, narrowing her eyes playfully.

            “Yes, you. I don’t even know if she’s queer.” Lagoona chokes down laughter as they cross the bar, shaking her head.

            “Honey, she’s here. The straights know they’re not allowed here.”

            “She just moved to the city.”

            “Yeah, to the city. Not to the planet. Seriously, Rosé, grow some eyes and look at her when you see her and tell me to my face she doesn’t scream lesbian.”

            They don’t see her when they step up to the bar. Jan leans on the counter and gossips with a couple of regulars about a breakup and Lagoona keeps an eye on the room, undoubtedly doing the same amount of searching as Rosé. They find her at the same time at the other end of the bar, and when Lagoona turns to Rosé she’s gone nearly blank. Symone is serving her friend, laughing with one arm propped on the counter, eyes trailing Denali’s figure with a sort of warm invitation. 

“I’d like you to not murder my new bartender please.”

“I’m no doing anything to her!” Rosé hisses between gritted, oddly smiling teeth, keeping her composure as she turns back around. She doesn’t need to see what happens next. Symone is a natural beauty, all leg and absolutely stunning in whatever she decides to wear. And it’s not any of her business where her friend has gone and what’ll happen if she gets talking to Lagoona’s emergency hire. She dreams momentarily about the way she’ll curse out Mik on FaceTime later but thinks better of it; Denali is her friend, none of this makes a difference. She’s exhausted, that’s all; exhausted and just looking out for her. 

“Yeah, because nobody here noticed the look of absolute carnage you’ve sent her way every time  she so much as looks within the same five feet as your friend.”

“Your very hot, seemingly single friend.” Lagoona adds pointedly, 

“Your very hot, very single friend who kept looking at you like,”

“-please don’t finish that.” Rosé pushes her hand against Jan’s mouth, cautious eyes searching the packed bar. “I can guess where that’s going, and it’s not even true. For fucks sake, Jan, we’re in a very public place.”

“My very public place. And if the regulars can witness you trying to undress that ass with your eyes then maybe Jan can finish whatever gross analogy she had coming this time.”

“No thanks, I’m done.” 

“Whatever you say.” Lagoona pauses for a brief moment before her face lights up in a Disneyland host worthy smile, one that stretches her lips from cheek to cheek leaving Rosé and Jan feeling slightly disturbed. “Now do I choose the route of kindness or do I stir the pot…?” That catches her attention. The other two singers whip around to find the person they’d all been speaking of. 

“Oh my god, Rosie, you were incredible!”

Denali grabs hold of her hands and squeezes them once. A faint brush of scarlet covers her cheeks and she blames it on the heat, the leftover rush from performing. Rosé understands why there have been eyes on her all night-why even now there’s at least two groups of girls glancing over in their direction. They’re regulars, they’ve all seem Rosé before. Hell, she’s probably Kevin Bacon-ed her way through half of this room and they could care less. It’s Denali, big brown eyes and dimples and long blonde hair. It’s the way she’s wearing the suggestion of a dress, a black bodysuit with cutouts on her hips and thick ribbons of fabric wrapping up the length of both of her legs and on either side of her, something like the reverse of a slit in a traditional dress. She’s not out of place, rather she’s made her own lane. And she’s talking animatedly with a margarita in her hand while Rosé’s focus is scarcely able to be there. 

“I mean seriously, I’ve hear you sing before but this sure as fuck beats the same scales fourteen times in a row.”

She gathers herself enough by then to serve Denali a smirk, shaking her head. 

“Is it better or worse than some of the beats you put on during your planning period

“You’re so rude!” She hits Rosé’s arm lightly, shaking her head and taking another sip of her tequila. “Your scales? Worse. Definitely worse. Boring, I should say. But this?” Denali leans in then, one hand propped on Rosé’s thigh to steady herself. Her voice is loud enough to hear over the music but feels like a whisper against her skin, Rose’s breath momentarily caught in her throat. 

“That Ari number was worth these first few months of scales, let’s leave it at that.”

Denali pats the bar stool next to her, her eyes snapping toward the seat in a silent, gentle sort of command. Rosé sits immediately and without question and is met with one voice chuckling while the other clears their throat rather loudly. She rolls her eyes, swiveling sideways on the bar stool and gesturing to the two shit-eating grins behind her.

“This is Lagoona and Jan, my lovely annoying pain in the ass non-biological sisters.”

Jan moves to shake Denali’s hand and nods. She’s perky and astute and Rosé can see her wheels turning from her seat, understanding that both of her best friends have made the silent pact to do some digging. She hasn’t been on the receiving end of this sisterly scope-out in a while.

“We’ve heard so much about you. Rosie was right, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Oh!” She blushes at this, bites her bottom lip as her dimples grow more pronounced. “Thank you! Your set was so fun! I haven’t been able to get out in the city yet and I’m so glad I came here tonight.”

“Alone? Did you come here alone, or…”

“I just moved here right before the new school year so I don’t really know anybody yet, Google told me to come here so I just said ‘fuck it’ and decided it’d be nice to get out of the house for a night.”

“To a lesbian bar.”

“To the best lesbian bar. And so far it seems like I haven’t been steered in the wrong direction.”

            “Okay, you passed the test. Which means that if you’re up for it, you get the privilege of one wonderful tequila shot with all three members of the band.” Lagoona gestures for Symone, who comes sauntering over. She leans over the counter with a breezy sort of confidence, her eyes lingering on Denali as she asks for their order.

            “A round of shots for us and Rosé’s friend.” Jan is not the least bit subtle in the way she eyes their emergency bartender, who shrugs and hands over four shot glasses.

            “Well, might as well shoot your shots then. Especially when they look as pretty as you do.” 

            “Okay Symone, thank you so much, I really appreciate it. Isn’t that your ex down there or something?”

            “Who?”

            “I don’t know, you should probably go check.” All Lagoona and Jan  have to do is look at Rosé before she stops herself from fully faltering. Jan saves the day by raising her glass, proposing they toast to their new friend and ‘the best lesbian bar in town.’ 

            From there, the night progresses a bit too quickly for Rosé to process. She takes another shot to warm up while Denali nurses her drink. It’s a Rosalia song that has her propelling Rosé by her hand to the dance floor, where she and a regular laugh over doing the same choreography. She lights up the room as she dances, completely uninhibited and yet so in synch with the music, able to let go completely. After that song she stays close to Rosé-a touch of her upper arm, a bump against her…during one song Rosé firmly believes she’s about to come undone as Denali tugs at her hips, pulling her body so that inch after inch of their skin is touching as she sways them both to the music. 

            It’s all fun; it’s normal. And Denali is clearly warm judging by the dilation of her pupils and the way she can’t stop teasing her. It’s been a while since Rosé has gotten laid, the attention is nice. It’s good to note, if anything, that now she knows Denali must be a touchy, flirty drunk. And if she lets herself enjoy the dancing then so be it. Friends are allowed to have fun too.

            These are the excuses she lets pile up in her head for later, when she’s certain Jan and Lagoona will mercilessly hound her as they’re closing the bar. It’s rehearsed, and it’s thought-out, and maybe if she says it out loud enough times her heart will finally stop hammering against her chest long enough to let her catch her breath.

Denali is drunk. 

She’s not incapacitated but she leans heavily on Rosé as the night comes to a close. Lagoona gives her water and Jan piles them all into a booth as the DJ plays his last few songs of the night. The four watch as everyone gets in their last dances, finding their crowd or a person to go home with. Symone starts closing up the bar, and the doors are propped open now that an array of Ubers has been called. 

“Does last call ever make you sad?” Denali muses, mostly to herself. She’s pressed up against Rosé in the booth, her come-down evident in her now quiet demeanor. 

“Last call makes me think about going home, sleeping, and doing it all again tomorrow.” Lagoona laughs to herself as a couple of regulars wave in their direction. “This bar was my dream, though. It is a dream. So I guess it makes me feel good that so many people stay for last call or even come here in the first place.”

“It really is the best.” Denali’s phone buzzes, jolting her out of her relaxation a bit. She groans, shuffling in her seat. “My Uber‘s almost here.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Rosé slides from the booth first and holds out an arm for the blonde, who takes hold with both of hers. She leans her head on Rosé and waves a sleepy goodnight to Jan and Lagoona, who wave back with wiggling fingers and raise their eyebrows jokingly toward Rosé. They stand on the sidewalk for a moment, Denali sighing and squeezing Rosé’s arm. 

“That was so fun. You said you perform every week?”

“We try to-sometimes Goona books guests that are way bigger than us, but then we still come anyway and help out and see the show.”

“And if I came back?”

“I would love that..” Her voice is warm, solid, comforting. They stand in silence for a moment, her  attention shifting between watching the cars and letting herself admire the way the street lights create a cozy sort of bubble between them, Denali keeping herself pressed against her as they wait. 

“Y’know,” she breaks the silence with a humming sort of voice. “I’m about to turn into one of those front row bitches who gets here early and just stands by the stage saving my spot.”

Rosé can feel her giggling against her and rolls her eyes. 

“You got merch? I’ll get merch, I’ll wear it on casual Fridays.”

“Oh so now you’re a groupie?”

“Yup. I’ll be expecting my Team Rosie shirt on Monday morning and I won’t stop harassing you until I get it. You think your class can be loud? Wait til mine finds out that I’m fucking colorblind.”

Her phone buzzes again and a black SUV pulls up to the curb, rolling down their window. She waves and breaks away from Rosé, who immediately feels the lack of warmth. She takes notice of the driver, the license plate. She does this all while Denali hesitates at the curb, one hand still attached to hers. She gestures for the other girl’s phone and creates a new contact, putting in her number before taking a slightly blurred selfie with her tongue out.  

“Text me when you get home, okay?” Rosé hands her phone back and brushes her arm with the tips of her fingers, back to the voice that wraps around them like warm silk. 

“Okay, Rosie.” She closes the distance between them, resting her head on her chest and wrapping her arms around her waist. Rosé hesitates only for a moment before squeezing her back, pressing her cheek to the top of Denali’s head. The shorter girl takes in a deep breath before stepping back, meeting her eyes and biting her lip. She waves her phone in the air.  “Thank you.”

Rosé gets a text from an unknown number only fifteen minutes later, while she’s helping Lagoona and Jan close the bar. She beams and then locks the phone and slides it back onto the bar top, stifling her grin. She’s just glad she’s made a new friend, glad that she got home safely, just glad to have a good night. That’s it, nothing more. 

Home safe. It really was a great show. You’re a star. 

Xo, your biggest fan. 

[asterdeer]

hey there baby i could use just a little help [spotify link]

a playlist for the first 25 years of richard maxwell's life

tracklist and annotations under the cut, babes

FAMILY OF ME ben folds

tone-setter intro song. "how great i am / gotta tell myself, yeah, i'm your man / looks grim right now but / pretty soon we'll be laughing about it"

DANCE MUSIC the mountain goats

childhood and teenage years. "and i'm five years old or six maybe / and indications that there's something wrong / with our new house / trip down the wire twice daily"

CLUSTERHUG i don't know how but they found me

early years in odyssey, relationship with rachael, relationship with lucy. "oh, we can turn around / we can burn this town to ash / as charming as we are / we are nothing but pretty trash"

ICARUS SMICARUS punch brothers

relationship with his father, with his stepfather, with blackgaard. "get back in your hole and get dead, son / get back in your hole and get bent / get back in your hole and get dead, son / get back in your hole and get bent"

THE LION'S ROAR first aid kid

the turning point. after the battle pt. II. a tone piece more than anything ngl. "and i'm a goddamn coward / but then again so are you / and the lion's roar, the lion's roar / has me evading and hollering for you / and i never really knew what to do"

DANCING IN THE DARK bruce springsteen

the intermediating years. watching for blackgaard, doing only god knows what, observing from a distance. on his own. "man, i ain't gettin nowhere / i'm just living in a dump like / there's something happening somewhere / baby, i just know that there is"

MILES AND MILES the heavy heavy

still in the lost middle years. on his own. "i know you know my name / hitchhiking loner vagabond travelin light / fire burning through mainline / going up to the junction, turning right"

SHADOW the ballroom thieves

regret and weariness seeping in. getting closer to odyssey again. "these days i feel like a stranger / wear my laughter like a bad disguise / oh but everybody knows i'm in danger / they can see it in my eyes"

TIME SPENT IN LOS ANGELES dawes

and he's back in odyssey. self-awareness and an outside perspective. "when people ask me where i come from / to see what that says about a man / i only end up giving bad directions / that never lead them there at all"

TROUBLE imagine dragons

darkness before dawn. "so pray for me, brother / i need redemption / i'm just a man, a man on a mission / i want no trouble, i want no trouble / i want no trouble, i want no trouble / pray for me, sister / give me a mention / i got no faith and oh, did i mention / i want no trouble, i want no trouble / i want no trouble, i want no trouble"

WE ALL DIE YOUNG the decemberists

post-cliff, hospital-bound. "when i woke next day / layered in the lashings / feeling for the hole in my head / i was thinking 'bout my dad / thinking 'bout the nashings / of all the bitter things that he said / and he said: / we all die young"

I'M STILL HERE john rzeznik

admittedly a bit of a bitter joke. post-hospital life - in odyssey? leaving again? a goodbye letter to regis. "and what do you think you'd understand? / i'm a boy, no, i'm a man / you can't take me and throw me away"

PIRATE RADIO* jean dawson

epilogue. "i'm on the edge of my coffin / with a smile and some hope / i was drowning, drowning, drowning in the open / no grip on the shore / solid turn water when you hold it / out your fist it pours"