#effervescentdragonwrites

[effervescentdragon]

AKIRA DID YOU WRITE A BTS FANFIC???!?!??!?!?!??????????????????????

I miiiiiight have done 😹 here it is 💖 it's my 100th fic btw! :D

[effervescentdragon]

Galex round three, one of them asking the other way they never talk about marriage

for @wolfiemcwolferson 🩵

"Do you want to get married?"

Alex fumbles with the controller so bad, he crashes into a wall. Half of my career right there, he thinks uncharitably.

What he says is, "What, now?" because he can't help himself.

George pauses the game. When he turns, he makes sure Alex can see him rolling his eyes.

"Yes, Alexander, now." He huffs. "No, you numpty. Just. In general, you know? Have you ever thought about it? We never talk about it, I was just wondering."

Alex... has, and hasn't. He supposes he had thought about it in a very generalised way of Someday I will get married and have a child. (A single child. He doesn't want a big household. He has one, and he... he doesn't want it.) He supposes he hadn't thought about it in any specific terms, like when, or where. (Or who.)

"I don't know. Maybe? It is the next step, isn't it."

"I didn't actually hear a question at the end of that sentence," George replies. He's fiddling with the PS controller, his manicured finger flicking random buttons.

Alex doesn't like feeling defensive, which he does now for whstever reason he can't figure out. "Are you offering?" he asks, making sure to include a leer and a wiggle of his eyebrows. "I think I should sample the goods first. Your hips aren't exactly child-bearing material."

George's finger stops moving.

"So you'd get married just to have children?" he asks, voice completely even.

Alex doesn't like the feeling in his chest. He doesn't like the seriousness of the eyes staring right at him. He doesn't like any of this.

"Why are you asking?" he deflects, because he doean't know what else to do. "Is it because I was about to beat you?"

George's eyes flicker to the screen. His Mercedes is in P2. Alex's Ferrari is in P17, pending a DNF when the game starts up again.

"I..." George starts, then clears his throat. "Forget it. Let's just play."

Alex knows he should say something. And he will. He will say something, he will say something right, something that will fix whatever is wrong with them. He's always managed to do it, always so far, so he will fix it this time, too. Alex can fix things too; that's not something only for George. It can't be.

He opens his mouth -

- his phone starts ringing.

They both look down.

Boo ❤️ Calling

Alex raises his eyes to George. For a brief second, there is a myriad of emotions in George's eyes, but before Alex can even start to pars through them, George looks away.

Alex swallows.

"Georgie..."

"Answer the phone, Alex," George interrupts him. He takes a short breath that Alex can hear over the vibration of his phone. "She's waiting," he finishes, and gets off the couch.

Alex stares at his phone, George's steps loud and echoing as he retreats to the kitchen.

[effervescentdragon]

"does it show again, just how much I've missed you?" - prompt

for @aksh369 - its not yet what i promised you, but i had an idea and this is within the vague outline of your prompt but mostly its a general love letter to bts and ot7. and it's kookie's bday, so. yeah. i hope you like it <3 [also, @sebsrainbowbicycle i wrote this while your algorithm was indulging me :)]

They're all out. They're all out, finally, and they're free. They're all out, and they're free, and they're - together.

Namjoon-hyung holds his hand and they're both shaking, little tremors that won't be noticeable to anyone who looks at them, another secret for them to keep upon hundreds and thousands of others shared between them. Hyung holds his hand right up until the moment he can't anymore, because they'll be seen, they're about to be discharged and they're about to be surrounded by cameras and fans and everyone.

"It's okay," Namjoon says, and he believes the words because they come from Namjoon, because it's Namjoon-hyung saying them, and all Namjoon-hyung ever did was because of one reason; to take care of them all. "It's okay Tae," Namjoon repeats. "Just a hundred more steps, and forty more minutes, and we are done."

The words are too much and not enough because Namjoon's eyes are empty and clouded both, like they've been ever since they enlisted, in a way Tae hasn't gotten used to seeing yet and doesn't really think he ever will. We are done is a finality that Taehyung doesn't want to think about, because - because they're not done yet, not them, not all of them.

Are we done, he thinks some time later, bowing his head so low it gets stuck in the flowers he is given, their scent too cloying, are we really done, he thinks because Seokjin-hyung is there, he is there and he is discharging them and he is serious but his eyes are so, so gentle and so full of something Tae has always known was there and had missed so dearly when he was crawling through [redacted] because after the photos are done and he's been hugged by Jin-hyung in a way he hasn't been hugged for too long and when it was Namjoon's turn to be hugged, Tae pretended not to hear Jin-hyung whisper, "I got you, Joonie, it's okay now, you're done," and he pretended not to see how Namjoon sagged in Jin's arms and he mostly pretended not to see the haze in Namjoon's eyes lifted, like the fog used to do in the forests of [redacted] during his special training. Instead, Teahyung pretended to listen to what he was being told instead and he nodded distractedly to their manager and smiled and finished the thought - are we done, or are we just finally, finally free?

When Hobi-hyung's text comes [did you change your apt passcode? 🫨🫨 LET ME IN I HAVE FOOD] Taehyung doesn't even care that Hobi-hyung shouldn't be here in Taehyung's apartment just before his last concerts, or that his face is clean aside from the make-up around his eyes that looks hastily wiped, or that his hair is damp from the shower. Taehyung just buries his face into hyung's neck and weeps, for the first time since he came out and since the live finished and since Jin-hyung and Joonie-hyung were gone and since he can't even remember, and Hoseokie holds him and says nothing and just breathes with him and pets his hair and whispers, over and over again, "It's okay, I'm here, just a bit more and we are free, just a bit more and we'll be together, Taehyung-ah, just hold on, it's okay," and Taehyung almost, almost breathes.

Not yet, though.

Jiminie and Jeonggukie are next, and Taehyung feels like he is one huge inhale closer to breathing properly for the first time since Jin-hyung told them he would be enlisting first. He doesn't allow himself to think on how Jimin's hair smells and on how Ggukie's arms feel around him because that was his soulmate and his - his Jeongguk and thinking about them made Taehyung want to scream and wail and laugh, and if he though about it too much he wouldn't be able to get out of bed, or form a sentence, or leave Korea for Europe any time soon.

So Taehyung doesn't think about it, or talk about it, because an inhale is good, it's the best, it's your saving grace when you're drowning and it's the start of something new; but inhale is only half a breath, not a full one.

So he waits, and waits, and sees all of them waiting alongside him. Jeongguk and Jinnie-hyung go off to rehearse for Seokie-hyung's concert, Joonie-hyung is tied in with management, Jiminie is either dancing or sitting on Taehyung's couch and waiting, waiting, like they all are.

Yoongi opens the door to the backstage of Hoseok's concert on the 13th (two years, millions of fans, innumerable awrds, twelve years, one dream, seven of them, seven of them, seven of them) with one eyebrow up, his mask pulled down underneath his chin. "I'm not late," he says, and as Jimin and Hoseok and Jin jump on him, loud and exhuberant, Namjoon takes his left hand - like days before, like weeks before, like months before, like years before - and Jeongguk wraps his arms around him - like days before, like months before, like years, twelve years before - and leans his chin on Taehyung's shoulder and says, too close to his ear, "We're free; we are finally all free." He sounds so happy, it almost breaks Taheyung's heart.

Taehyung exhales on a sob, and hugs Yoongi - his friend, his brother, his Daegu-hyung - and when Yoongi smiles, gums on display, and Hobi screeches at them to go, and Yoongi drags him out so they can take their seats in the audience, Taehyung realises he can finally breathe.

Everybody is talking, including himself, and as they pass the corridors, he turns. Behind him, Jeongguk walks, piercing in his eyebrow, bangs already growing out, bunny smile that Taehyung remembers better than he remembers facts about snails or his flight itineraries.

He slows down until they're walking side by side, personel and managers and his brothers all around. There is a gentleness in Jeongguk's eyes, and Taehyung thinks he might know what it means.

"Does it show," he states softly, slowly.

"What?" Ggukie asks, nose scrunching.

Taehyung laughs, because he's been helpless in the wake of that smile for fifteen or so years.

"Does it show how much I miss you?" he asks, smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

Jeongguk purses his lips. "Yeah," he starts, all efforts to hide a smile in vain, because Taehyung still, still knows him. "But it shows on all of us, so I think it's okay."

Taehyung reaches for his hand. Squeezes, once, twice, thrice. Looks ahead to where Jimin is looking back at them, eyes straight lines with how much he is smiling; to where Seokjin has both arms around Yoongi; to where Namjoon's left hand is holding onto Jin's shirt, his left on Jimin's wrist. Hoseok's voice echoes somewhere behind them, faint but present.

"I think so too," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Then it's okay," Jeongguk replies. "Then it's good, Tae."

He squeezes Taehyung's hand back, and Taehyung breathes freely in, then out. In, then out; and again; and again; and again.

[effervescentdragon]

em. Mmmmmm. f1 the sting au… with….. sebchal

"You've gotta think, kid," Vettel says to him. "There is a way of going about these things. There has to be patience. You can't just run in, hot-headed, and expect to have results."

It doesn't sit well with him. Not after knowing what he knows about Vettel. After what Jean has told him.

He used to be incredible, Jean had said. He could improvise his way out of any situation within a blink. Working the casinoes and parties all over the Côte d'Azur, dozens of identities shed and taken up in a span of days, sometimes even hours. And he was so impatient, mon Dieu. We have tried to temper him, but I think only time will manage to do that.

And failure, Charles thought. Failure is a temperance in itself. He didn't say it; he didn't dare.

"I want revenge," he manages to say. "They need to pay for what they've done."

Vettel shakes his head. His curls bounce off his forehead as he reaches for another cigarette.

"Haven't you heard about the adage Revenge is a dish best served cold?"

He pats his pockets, searching for his lighter. Charles lets him. The cigarette between his teeth bounces.

"No dish is good cold," he says. He doesn't like speaking to Vettel. Too many metaphors, not enough action.

"You haven't been to many fancy restaurants, have you? You come from Monaco, kid. How's that possible?"

Charles bristles. "That doesn't matter. Did you like any of those cold dishes?"

Vettel pauses his search, hands resting on his suspenders. "That's not the point."

"What is the point then?" Charles asks. "What is the point of it all, if we just wait? If we do nothing? They're getting away with it."

Vettel stares at him in that way he has that disquiets Charles every time. Too much knowledge in his eyes, too much derision in the twist of his lips. It sets all of Charles' instincts on fire. He holds Vettel's gaze, because he knows he's right, and he will not back down. Time for waiting is over. It's time to act, and Vettel must understand that, somehow, because he sighs and shakes his head again.

"Alright. Alright, kid, I'll... let's sit down and plan - something, I guess." He huffs. "Now where did I put-"

Charles' hand is steady as he opens the lighter. His fingers cover the ingraved initials. S.V.

"It was in your breast pocket," Charles says.

Vettel stares at the fire for a moment. Then, his eyes meet Charles'.

When Vettel bursts out laughing, the cigarette falls out of his mouth. He doesn't even notice, laughing wide, mouth too red, lips chapped.

Charles laughs along, his chest lighter than it's been for a long, long time.

[effervescentdragon]

CHERIK F1 AU

Erik pointedly doesn't look at where Charles is giving his interview during the parade. His sunglasses might as well be bulletproof with how dark they are. He won't fall into the trap again. Charles doesn't get any insight into his thoughts anymore.

Eyes are the mirror of the soul, he remembers Charles telling him years ago in a hotel room they shared when they were just kids starting out in karting. And I can see everything in yours.

Not everything, Erik had said, even though he knew it was a lie.

"What are you thinking?" Kurt asks him. He's sucking on that vile energy drink they're sponsored by. Erik would rather gauge his eyes out than drink it, and he's lucky that he has enough leverage to make them change it into the one he actually likes, even if it's their direct competitor.

Formula One is full of secrets, known and unknown, and most of all, those that everyone pretends they don't know.

"The race," he lies. "What else would I be thinking about?"

Kurt snorts. It makes Erik look over at him, and Kurt's expression makes Erik switch to German.

"What was that sound?"

Kurt shrugs. "I bet Scott there will be a yellow flag and a DNF."

Erik inclines his head. "How much?"

"A thousand."

Erik turns his head nonchalantly. Charles' interview is over, and now he's leaned on the fence of the truck, right across from where Erik and Kurt are. He's saying something to Jean, who's nodding along seriously.

His sunglasses aren't dark enough, though. Erik catches every glance, lets it reflect and repel against the metal of his own sunglasses.

"You're going to lose. Scott is good at technicalities," he says, and smiles for the camera that gets shoved in his face right then.

He hits his hands on the steering wheel and screams in frustration. Then, he remembers where he is, and bites out a crisp, "I'm alright. I'm alright. The car is done, though."

"Copy," his engineer says. "Xavier is out too. We're submitting the crash under review. The stewards will review it after the race."

"Good," he replies viciously, then cuts off the comms. The dust around him is settling, and through it he sees Charles jumping out of his car.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He gets out of the car slowly, making sure to obey the rules. The stewards are jumping the fences, the cars stranded in the gravel.

He makes his way over to where Charles is reassuring the medical crew that he's alright. His helmet is in his hands, and his hair is a mess. Everyone notices him approaching, and they are all immediately on alert.

All except Charles, whose face is impassive.

"Double DNF," he says.

Charles inclines his head. "I guess dinner is on Scott tonight."

Erik bites his lip, because he refuses to laugh. "You're a fucking cunt."

Charles says nothing. There's nothing to say. Not between them; not anymore.

His eyes shine in the sunlight.

Erik leaves his helmet on.

[effervescentdragon]

Galex & 4: Mind meld/telepathy/mind reading

"It will be like old times," Alex says over the comms, keeping his voice light despite knowing the facade will fail in mere seconds.

"Indeed," George says, and Alex knows him enough to recognize the apprehension.

It's only George, he thinks, it's only George, it's fine, it will be fine -

- as the Drift hits them and images and words and feelings and sensations all blur into one because -

- Alex's lips in a smile in a pout in a kiss - You were my best friend - coast of Ireland, destroyed - Pull the sword out, now - It's MY fault - we are in this together - Retreat! That's a command! - we cannot be saved - we cannot save them - we will try - we will die - hold on, Georgie, it will be alright - don't lie to me now, Alex - there were sightings of Kaiju double teaming the attacks - Cadet Russel, you will obey - Alex, I can't protect you this time - I never wanted you to protect me, I never asked - You never had to ask - I never would have -

"Drift compatibilty: 96 percent."

George is in his mind, flinching.

Did you ever think -

- yes.

No hesitation in the answer.

You expected -?

No, not really.

They smile at the same time.

"Base, we are set," George says.

"Will'o'Wisp Jaeger, reporting for duty."

When Alex looks over, George is already looking at him.

[effervescentdragon]

okay friends if anyone has prompts to send me please do, nothing may come out of it but i need something to distract my brain a little bit. it can be for fics/ficlets, web weaves, also just general asks, anything that comes to mind really. im lowley going crazy with this brain fog and my mom so like. please? 🥺💖

[effervescentdragon]

i apologize in advance to the 193 people who are subscribed to my ao3 profile akirakurosawa for what is about to be posted as my 100th offically-with-my-whole-govt-pussy-name claimed fic :)