#I swear to god I take a three hour nap and come back to utter chaos

[karmaphone]

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 6

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 6: And So It Begins

“I’m back,” MK tiredly said as he dragged his form out of the blazing sun and into the cool restaurant, “orders delivered, traffic long and people angry, but food is delivered.”

“Great, but you still have another delivery,” Pigsy replied as his back was turned.

“Just one,” he grinned, “compared to the other ten this will be a piece-,”

He slammed down 30 orders down in front of him on the already bustling counter.

“Of cake,” he deflated as he saw the monumental amount of food. “What the-Are we feeding an entire town?!”

“Close. Party, though I should have charged their ungrateful asses extra for the rush order,” he growled out, “who gives an hour warning Huh?!”

“Apparently them,” he groaned as he picked up and carried the whole load into the car.

“And when you get back, there are a dozen more orders to take care of,” Pigsy called out.

“Got it bossman,” he yelled out, then he slammed the door closed and he sat up straight with a grin, “alright this won’t be so bad.”

“BEEF? BEEF?!! I WANTED MISO! GET IT RIGHT YOU STUPID DRIVER! The voice yelled out at MK as the two stood at the doorway.

“I’m sorry but-,” he winced as he was cut off by the rude woman screech.

“You better be sorry! I could have your job for this big of a screw up! You are nothing!”

“Technically I just delivered your food,” he whispered to himself.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing!” He put on his best service smile, “I’m very sorry about this, how about I take your food back so that I can-.”

Splat

MK watched as the woman threw down her food in a fit of rage.

“There’s your damn food, now pick it up and get me a new one,” she spat out.

MK looked down at the pile of food that Pigsy put his sweat and blood into slowly dripping off the stone stairs. He took a deep breath as he put his hand in his pocket to subtly squeeze the stress ball and looked at the woman.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” he deadpans and walks back to the car.

“What?!”

“Also,” he rolled down his window when he got in the car, “if you would like to order for a party, next time call ahead of time.” He then quickly drove off until he could no longer hear the yells of the angry woman.

He rode until he reached the grocery store, parked at the edges of the lot where there were barely any cars, unbuckled his seat belt, and laid his head on top of the wheel.

“I. Hate. People. Sometimes.” He lightly banged his head with each word then he leaned back and took out the ball and squeezed it a few times. “I really do.”

He likes to think of himself as a pretty optimistic person, after having his whole life turned around and learning things can get better, he likes to think that the world can be good. But days like these, people like those, make him really put that side of him to the test and today he very much failed that. He should be glad that he didn’t go off on her, like what Pigsy did when some dude tried to scam him or Mei when she is feeling very competitive over some a-holes, but at the same time that sounds amazing.

He squeezed the ball a little tighter.

“I really want to see Dad right now,” he muttered to himself. It would be so easy, just one yell to him and he would be over in less than a second. “I really want him right now…but I made a promise to myself that I would do this without him.”

So he took a deep breath, lifted his head, put on his music, put away his rainbow stress ball, and slowly began his drive back to Pigsy restaurant.

It was during that drive back that he got a call, “Hello?”

“Hey MK, it’s me,” he stopped as he heard Pigsy's voice, he had a feeling he knows what this is about.

“Heyyy Pigsy, I’m almost at the store,” he tried and failed, to sound casual.

“I just got off a call with a very rude customer who said that you threw down her food when she was being oh so kind,” he bluntly said, “even mentioned about assaulting her.”

“That is so not how any of that went down!” He immediately said, “she yelled at me for saying that I made her food wrong and I told her that it can be redone, but she decided to instead throw down all of that food herself and told me to clean it up! Who does that?! And all of this was after she put her hand all through that food, which is so gross by the way, I mean other people are eating that, cause I know she ain’t-,” he was cut off by Pigsy chuckles.

“You don’t need to explain anything, I know you for far too long to even think that you would put too much salt in someone's food let alone throwing it down on the ground.”

“Oh,” he calmed down as he released the tension from the wheel, “that’s good.”

“Yeah, I told it to her straight just exactly how I felt about her being an utter ass to not only myself but my employees. Let’s just say that she was not happy about that and threaten to sue,” he could almost hear him shrug.

“What no!” He tried to stand up, only to realize he was still in the car and he was still buckled up. “I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be, cause jokes on her the world we live in has become pretty up to date with security and, more importantly, security cameras,” he said with a grin, “I don’t think she’s gonna get a single cent when everything that went down was all on video.”

MK let a smile spread across his face, bless technology and all its glory. “That’s good.”

“It sure is. Do you want to take a breather when you come back? I know that woman was more than a handful that what you're used to,” he asked in concern.

“Nope,” he cheerfully said, “I am A-Ok! Just get those next orders ready for me so I can deliver!”

“Well if you're certain, get your ass back here on the double,” he said, but the teenager could tell it was more playful, “we got orders waiting to be delivered.”

“On my way!” He saluted to no one and hung up. “Alright! Let’s get a move on!”

‘Make sure to add the cohesive before the mixing,’ the voice silently thought to himself.

“It would be so easy just to make that jump, hell my youngest kit sister can make that and she’s not even a month old,” a voice bragged.

‘Combine the Feins roots with the Elia petals first to dilute the solution.’

“All I’m saying is that if you try to jump off the cliff of perils then I sure as hell am not catching you,” another voice deadpanned.

“Nahhh I would be fine.”

‘…dice the Oran berries and Pecha then add when the next stage is ready.’

“If you count being splattered into tiny little pieces fine, then, by all means, go ahead,” another voice sighed.

‘Make sure that the color is a deep orange hue and not dark yellow, that can-,’

“Ye o little faith.”

“No, you are of little sanity. Even my younger gremlins know better,” she shot back.

‘That can easily violate the substance,’

“But they don’t have the certain skills like I do,” they bragged.

‘…leading to a-,’

“It still wouldn’t be a wise thing to do,” a deep voice pointed out.

‘Leads to a-,’ his vial cracked in his hands as he was once again interrupted.

“No, but it would be fun-.”

“I swear,” everyone turned to face the irritated monkey, “to all things good in this world and the next, if you dumbasses don’t shut the fuck up in the next five seconds I will make the Piñata fiasco at the Boiling Isles look like a god damn nap compared to what I’m gonna do to you.”

“Sorry, were we disturbing you,” Yanyu cheekily said.

“You little-”

“Awwww I’m soo sorry,” Daiyu mocked.

“I swear-”

“We didn’t mean to interrupt your monologue,” Minsheng smirked, “you know it kinda reminds me of Flicker when you do that.”

“That’s it!” He slammed down his ingredients, opened his drawers, and took out a roll of duct tape, “come here you little bastards!” He yelled out as he began to chase down the three annoyances.

“Same as usual,” Bohai sighed as he drank his tea.

“One would think not to mess with Mac when he’s like this,” Ahmed commented.

“Especially when he’s in his mood.”

“Especially that.”

“Now shut it,” he proudly said as he sat on top of his third victim.

“Hey hey!” Daiyu struggled to break free, “we were trying to lighten your mood fuzzball.”

“By annoying the shit out of me,” he growled as he taped her beak shut. “Fat chance, anyone else,” he looks over to his other two remaking friends.

“I say nothing,” the jellyfish put his tentacles up in surrender.

“While they may have been a bit well-,”

“Fucking annoying,” the monkey bluntly said.

“Yes that, they did have a purpose to their madness,” the lion pointed out.

“What? What could they possibly want badly enough to annoy the absolute fuck out of me?!”

“You have empty bird nest syndrome.”

“…what?”

“I said-”

“I heard you the first time!” Macaque interrupted, “I do not have that! I am use to MK not being home day to day, so why the hell would you thi-,”

“For days,” Yanyu said once she ripped the tape off her mouth, “but not for longer than a week.”

“Same difference!”

“Nah pal it ain’t,” the bunny demon said as they chewed on their own tape, “I can see it as bright as day, you have been extra moody and hella sad these past couple of days. It’s just like mum, whenever one decides to leave the warren, she gets all glum and broody for days.”

“I am not broody!” His tail swished violently.

“But you do miss him,” Ahmed stated.

“I don’t-”

“And it’s okay if you do.”

“I don’t miss him, I can visit anytime,” he stated.

“You still miss him being there, being next to you,” the lone human gave his ponytail a playful tug and sat next to Mac, who was still sitting on top of the tied-up vulture. “Take it from a big sister, when Shu moved out to live in the dorms I was so happy for him, but as time went on I noticed that I didn’t hear his off pitch singing in the afternoon nor did I hear his voice amongst my gremlins over who gets the last brownie. I didn’t miss him, hell I could video chat with him anytime, but I missed his presence, you know.”

Macaque just gave her a hard look before sighing, “He used to hum to himself whenever he was bored,” he admitted as he got off his friend and slumped down next to her.

Yanyu just patted his shoulder as he continued.

“I know I can just visit him, but my kid is growing up, he’s learning to stand on his own and he should have his own life separate from me.”

“Yeah imma stop you there,” Sheng rolled his eyes, “you are being one over dramatic monkey right now if you think that just because he’s doing his own thing, doesn’t mean that he doesn't have time for you. Hell, you are the one demon he will always have time for no matter what.”

“But-”

“Ain’t no buts about it fuzzbrain,” Daiyu squawked out once she feared the tape off, “your hatching adores the shit out of you and if you don’t think he won’t spend time with you then you are dead wrong.”

“He should have that time to himself, he is just starting out all on his own…without me…,” he slumped in depression, but quickly shot up due to a shocking touch, “OW! FUCKING WHY BOHAI!”

“You're being an idiot,” he smugly said as he lowered his tendril.

“Thanks,” Yanyu nodded to him, “and he’s right. I know that this whole thing won’t end with this so here’s what we’re gonna do. The six of us are going to go to Qián city.”

“…why the fuck are we going to the underwater city of Shanghai?” He incredulously looked at her.

“Cause you seriously need to relax.”

“I don’t-”

“You spent most of your time in the garden or prepping medicine that you don’t need,” Ahmed calmly said as he cleaned up the mess that Mac made.

“…you may have a point, but I don’t really feel like I should leave, what if MK or Mei happens to call?” He said.

“Well one, I know damn well that your hearing exceeds that city's borders,” Sheng points out.

“Okay true.”

“And second, we have the beauty of phones, which allows people to fall from far away,” Yanyu slowly told him as if he was a child, “I taught you this in one of our first lessons.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he muttered, “but I don’t-”

“You either go willingly or Kit Kat over here is going to drag you,” she pointed to Ahmed.

“He wouldn’t-”

“I really would,” he had to stop a smile at the utter betrayal in the monkey's face.

“I could beat your ass again,” he grumbled.

“You very well could,” he agreed, “but then you would also have to go against everyone else and they will happily drag both you and me off.”

“Fine!” He throws his hand in the air.

“Got ‘em!” Sheng high-fived Yanyu.

“Told you he would cave in eventually,” the vulture grinned.

“But we are going there to strictly relax, that means no explosions, arsons, paralyzing, hacking, or prison riots.”

“What about stealing and graffitiing,” the bluenette raised her hand.

“If there assholes, be my fucking guest, but your ass better not get caught.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be more stealthy than sneaking into the police hub to get rid of the evidence,” she cockily stated.

“What?”

“What.”

“…you know what the less I know the better.”

“Good choice, so let’s get packing!” She excitedly said as she, Daiyu, Minsheng, and Bohai exited the infirmary.

“So are you gonna tell them that the game dealers there are more than likely to scam them before or after they get robbed?” Ahmed curiously asked.

“After, they need a lesson on not annoying the fuck out of me when I’m working,” he gave a mischievous grin.

“Quite rude of you,” he grinned.

“But you're smiling too.”

Ahmed chuckled lightly as the two left the infirmary.

It was a quiet day at the restaurant, the dinner rush had just ended and all that was really left to do was wait for the store to close and clean up what’s left. The only customers inside were Mei and Tang, both of whom have long since finished eating and are currently just chatting, or laying down, with MK over the counter.

“So how’re your online classes treating you?” Mei asked.

“Great!” He perked up as he took his eyes off the creepy butterfly in the corner of the restaurant, “I’m just about finished with my general study.”

“Ooo, does that mean you finally have a major in mind,” Mei leaned in.

“No I do not.” He cheerfully stated.

All of them, including Pigsy who was listening in, facepalmed.

“Mkkk,” the nineteen year old groaned.

“I knowww,” he slumped down, “but it’s hard deciding what to do for the rest of your life.”

“Well that is okay,” the historian softly said, “you're still young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Besides, college is not for everyone.”

“Yeahhh, so how’re your classes going Mei Mei?” MK turned to his friend, “I know you been taking some of the engineering courses.”

“Ugghhh, don’t get me started,” she slumped down in her seat, “I love it, but that is seriously kicking my ass right now. If I didn’t like to make sweet ass rides then I would have totally just dropped it.”

“Let me guess, for racing,” MK said as he sprayed down the counter.

“Duh, I’m gonna be so fast that when they're only halfway, I've already passed that finish line baby!” Mei screamed.

“Shhhhh,” Tang hushed as he held his head against the cool counter, “not so loud please.”

“You okay there Tang?” Pigsy asked as he moved closer to his friend, “you’ve been like that ever since you got in.”

“Yeah, it’s just this headache has been killing me and my usual medicine isn’t doing a thing,” sighed as he leaned into the warm hand touching his head.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a fever at least,” the pig mutters.

“Do you have any coughing, sneezing, nausea, or any other symptoms?” MK curiously asked as he sat up.

“I have been feeling a bit nauseous,” he murmured.

“Sharp ringing in your ears on and off?”

“Yesss,” he groaned out.

“Hmm hold on,” MK quickly went upstairs, everyone heard faint shuffling noises before he came back down as fast as he was carrying a small baggie, “Can I use your stove and teapot?”

“Go right ahead,” Pigsy agreed.

MK gave a quick smile and they all watched him make a pot of tea, but instead of teabags, he added some of the plants that were inside the bag.

“Here you go,” MK presented the tea to the historian once it was done.

Tang hesitated for a moment before accepting the cup, “…what is it?”

“Medicine. Drink,” he gave him a wide-eyed look.

“...alright,” he shrugged his shoulders and joked, “if this kills me, just burn my corpse.”

“Drink,” MK commanded once more.

Tang drank his tea instead of retorting back and his eyes widen at the taste of it.

“Are ya dead?” Mei asked.

“Feel the poison seeping in,” the pig demon joked.

“This is really good,” he complimented MK and he began to drink more.

“Thanks, it’s Dad’s special recipe diluted when it comes to dealing with migraines,” he happily announced.

“Diluted? I can already feel my migraine already going away, how bad is his if this is diluted?” Tang asked with much concern.

MK grimace as he shared a look with Mei. He can’t help the memories all filtering in of his father lying in bed clutching onto the headphones as it tightly covered all six of his ears. There is never a pattern to when this happens, but he knew to keep a pot of tea hot and a bowl of mango or other non-citrusy fruit available on those days.

“It’s pretty bad,” was all he said.

“Oh,” both adults shared a look before Tang put on a grin as he slurped down his tea, “well this really works, what in it?”

“It’s Feverfew Tea with some Pika berries,” said MK.

“I’ve heard of Feverfew, but I don’t think Pika rings a bell,” Pigsy hummed totally missing Mei’s shocked face.

“Why I never-,”

“No, it’s not pokemon,” MK quickly shut that down before she got to her rant.

‘’Awww,” she deflated.

“It’s from Kunlun peak.”

Tang immediately choked on his tea, “AK! Did you just say Kunlun peak!”

“Yep!”

“What’s so special about that,” she glumly asks.

“Mount Kunlun is known to be a mythical mountain that hikers and historians have been searching for centuries,” Tang began, “It’s said to hold both mythical animals and plants, each having extraordinary potential within them as even the Gods from above go down there for certain herbs and items needed for their potions. It just lays there on top of the highest peak, but no person nor demon has ever had a straight map leading there and you’re telling me your Dad, Macaque, went there?!”

“He goes there a few times a year,” the teenager proudly says.

He looks down at his tea with sparkles in his eyes, “I’m drinking magic tea made from the legendary mountain,” he gave a big slurp as he inhaled it and stood up.

Pigsy eyed the drink, neither teenager knew if it was in envy or jealousy.

“But I’m impressed MK,” Mei playfully punched his shoulder, “look at you being all smart about medicine.”

“Well I hear Dad mutter on and on about different types of herbs and their properties on a day to day basis, that it eventually gets stuck in my head you know,” he joked then he paused as an interesting thought occurred to him, “wait a moment.”

They all watch MK have a silent conversation to himself, complete with waving hands, multiple facial expressions, draw a few sketches on his notepad, and finish with a final glow of his eyes as he leaped up in the air.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” The owner said.

“Why didn’t I think of this before!”

“Think of what before?” The historian asked.

“It was seriously in front of me this entire time!”

“MK, I swear if you don’t tell us what’s up right now I am not liable to my next actions,” Mei threatened.

“I can be a Doctor!” He leaned forward in excitement, “or at least something along those lines!”

“You can be pop’s assistant!” Mei started to get excited alongside him, “how the hell did I not think of it either?!”

“I don’t know!”

“It does suit you,” the demon agreed. He knows the kid is smart, he has seen his grades, so it’s not far fetched to assume that he can do this rigorous task. “Hope you have good study habits, I know mines was absolute garbage back in school.”

“With notecards and all,” MK hates studying, his brain goes brrr during those times, but he can’t thank Yanyu and Bohai enough for teaching him different tricks to help keep focus. “Now I’m thinking maybe of being a pharmacist, cause I don’t think I do well with surgery.”

“There are also the ones who diagnose the disease using the X-ray thingie,” she snapped her finger as she tried to remember.

“Radiologist,” Tang called out.

“Yeah that!” She pointed to him.

“Ooo that also sounds interesting,” MK and Mei continued their animated talk as both adults watched.

“It’s nice to see them so happy,” the noodle lover let out a content smile as he drank some more of his tea.

“I hear that,” Pigsy then looked at the man cup in confusion, “by the way you’ve been drinking, I thought you would have already been finished by now.”

“With my first cup yes, I’m on my third one now.”

“How in the-I didn’t even see you leave this area!”

“Magic tea is magic,” was all Tang said.

Pigsy exploded, “That doesn’t explain shit!”

“Well too bad,” he gave a loud slurp once more.

SLURPPP

“You know what, two can play that game,” the human was confused when the pig demon got up and left the room. He was no longer confused as he came back with a cup of tea in hand.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tang threatened the pig.

The pig looked him straight in the eye and, with a sly smirk, drank down the tea.

SLURRPP

“You heathen!” He shrieked as he banged his hands on the counter and stood up, “how dare you drink my magic tea!”

“Well next time don’t be rude as fuck!” He shot back and got in his face as well.

“That’s rich coming from you!”

“Says the freeloader!”

“Oh here we go again! You know, if you wanted some tea you could have asked!”

“My stove, my cups, my pot, mine.”

“But it was made for me!”

“Yeah well-wait hold up, you feel better right,” Pigsy dropped his screaming as he softly asked his friend, “no drill pounding in your head?”

“Yeah I’m fine now, it really does work miracles,” Tang also lowered his voice.

“That’s good.”

“…they really do act like an old married couple,” Mei announces, MK facepalmed as both adults separated from each other and yelled.

“WE ARE NOT!”

“I’m really sorry about such short notice,” the panda bear demon on call apologized once more to Macaque as he was quickly gathering his ingredients.

“Don’t apologize, shit like this happens,” he waved him off, “I’ll take me a couple of days, a week at max, but I’ll be there before the poison reaches its peak.”

“Thank you,” the panda bowed to him.

“Make sure to store away any semblance of caffeine, alcohol, or anything high in potassium, those are the fastest ways to speed up the process,” he instructed him.

“I’ve been meaning to take away Mink coffee stash, now I have a reason,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Will do bossman,” he hung up the call and called another number as he continued to pack. Once it picked up he put a smile on his face, “Hey Comet, how’s it going?”

“Good!” The twenty year old happily responded. “You wouldn’t believe it, but the classes are actually kinda easy to understand. They’re still tricky, especially the tests, but Yanyu was right about you teaching this. It made almost all my classes so much easier thanks to you.”

“Aww, that’s another one for my ego,” he joked then he put on a more serious tone, “but I didn’t just call you here for a chat kiddo.”

“Why what’s up? Is there something wrong?” MK suddenly asked as he leaned in, “Do I have to get Mei here and help kick some asses?!”

“Snrk, no nothing like that,” he let out a snort, “you know Po right?”

“Yeah, he’s the panda demon who comes in to get pain relief, muscle relaxants, and other types of medicine for his students? Does this have something to do with him?”

“Close, his disciples messed up big time and accidentally inhaled a bunch of toxic fog when they faced off against an elephant demon.”

“How can an elephant make poison?” MK questioned.

“Magic can do the weirdest of things, I mean I’m a monkey that can do shadow magic,” he pointed out.

“True, okay so he’s gonna come over to pick up the antidote? I don’t see what’s the big problem?”

“Here’s the bad part, Po can’t make a round trip, cause the time he gets back, all of his students…might not be alive,” he gently told him.

“…oh, so what’s gonna happen?”

“Well, I’m going to have to make a house call, which means I'm gonna have to go away for a bit and it’s pretty far, so I won’t be able to hear you.”

“…okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay!” MK gave a big grin to him, “Don’t you worry bout a thing! I’m an adult now Dad, I will be just fine!”

“You have grown up,” he gave a gentle smile, “I’m glad to hear that, but remember to call if there’s any trouble. I may be far, but I will come running if you need it.”

“I will! Now finish packing and save some lives!”

“I will, I’ll see you in two weeks shooting star.”

“See ya later old man!”

Macaque hung up the call with a smile as he resumed his packing. He wished he could have hugged his kid goodbye, but he was in a time crunch as he zipped everything up and quickly jumped out of the treehouse and began to move within the shadows of the trees.

He really does love his shadow powers during these times.

“Duh du Duh,” MK hummed out as he danced his way over to the food delivery destination with the headphones blaring in his ears. He then lifted it to call out the order name when he heard a silky voice interrupt.

“It feels like I waited for an eternity for this moment, is everything in order?”

“Just making the final adjustment mother,” another voice replied and this is when he opened his eyes to see that this was no ordinary food order as an ominous group stood before him.

“Nope,” he immediately whispered as he silently jetted off to hide behind a pile of rocks, but he peaked his head carefully out to see and his eyes widened.

“Finally after all this time,” the woman continued.

‘No way.’

“We have the means to lift Monkey King staff.”

‘It is!’

Standing before them all, wrapped in vibrant viridian vines and burrowed underneath a garden left untouched by the destruction laid around it, was the legendary Monkey King staff.

Things were about to get interesting.

No joke, the delivery scene with the lady is something I had to experience before. There are people who truly treat food workers lower than dirt, which is stupid to me cause why would you disrespect the people making your food? It’s like insulting the people who manage your money.

[aureumjeon]

while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain? 

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count;  11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday.  bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33 

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Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

++

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.” 

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.”  With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.”  You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say. 

++

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's  ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear. 

++

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you. 

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

++

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

++

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself.  How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin. 

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..."  Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug.  You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way. 

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine."  You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona."  he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…." 

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls 

[kookscrescent]

BTS Reaction┊ Your child says something inappropriate they heard you say

❖ Request: could you please do a bts reaction where their child says something reader said during.. you know?~ anon  *A/N: I tweaked it a little bit so it wouldn't be so repetitive.* ❖ Pairing: bts x reader ❖ Genre: reaction, established relationship w/ children, crack ❖ Warnings: swearing, a little bit of explicit language but nothing too extreme!

⇥ Masterlist

NB! This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

HOSEOK

“It was really nice of you to cook us all dinner ____.” Seokjin comments as he puts down his napkin, his plate almost empty. 

A string of ‘yeah’s’ and ‘it tastes amazing’ sounds around the table, everyone agreeing with Seokjin. 

You smile shyly, their compliment making your cheeks warm. “Thank you. It’s nice to cook for more than three people once i awhile.” You say. 

“More like two really,” Hoseok than adds. “Josephine doesn't really eat that much yet.” 

Just as her name has left Hoseok’s lips, your daughter comes running into the room, a teddy bear under one arm and a bright smile on her face upon seeing all of er uncles. She runs straight to Yoongi. Ever since she was born, she’s favored Yoongi and your heart warms seeing the two interact. 

“Hey, you little rascal.” Yoongi says, gathering Jo on his lap, his fingers softly tickling her sides. She squirms, a loud laughter vibrating from her. She repeatedly hits Yoongi’s arm to get him to stop tickling her. 

“Jo!” You call her name. “You don’t hit people.”

“It’s fine ____,” Yoongi softly comments when Jo starts pouting. 

“She need to learn not to hit people.” Hoseok jumps in. “She’s been doing it at kindergarten too.” 

Jimin, sitting besides Yoongi, turns in his seat, catching Jo’s gaze. “What? You’ve been naughty at kindergarten?” 

Still pouting, Jo mumbles. “But mommy always tells daddy to spank her again.” 

You go beat red. What did your child just say? “What?” 

“Yes, mommy always tells daddy to spank her when they are playing in their room.” Josephine proceeds to tell everyone at the dinner table. 

All eyes now turn to you and Hoseok, and you can see how badly they all want to burst out laughing. Jungkook is the first one to break, followed by the rest of them - including Hoseok. 

You glare at him, gently kicking him under the table, urging him to say something. Anything really, to fix this situation or at least make it a little less awkward. As if it’s even possible. 

“Josephine, honey... What mommy and daddy...” He stops mid sentence trying to control his laughter when the rest of the group continues their fits. “That’s a grown up game.” 

“I never took you guys for being the kinky types.” Taehyung comments in a fit of laughter. 

JUNGKOOK

“-Then how about we leave an hour before the scheduled time?” Seokjin suggests to the rest of the guys. “That way we will have more time at the venue.” 

Namjoon nods, “That could work. I’ll text Sejin and ask what they think of it.” 

The boys are currently having a small meeting at yours and Jungkook's dinner table regarding a conflict in their upcoming schedule. You are only listening with half an ear while you are playing on the floor with Isabella. 

The girl is incredibly dad sick at the moment and she doesn't want to be more than a few steps away from Jungkook, but they also needed to have their meeting in peace, so you compromised and let her play on the floor with her dolls just a few steps away from him if she promised to play quietly. 

Izza is currently playing hairdresser with her dolls. Their poor heads enduing the torture of her dragging the brush through their hair, a few good chunks coming off here and there. 

“So what do do about-” 

“Fuck!” Isabellas small outburst of profanity leaves the room in silence. All heads turning to the small three year old. 

“Isabella!” You exclaim in shock. 

“That’s a very naughty word,” Jungkook tells his daughter. “Who taught you to say such a word?” 

“Daddy did,” she whispers, eyes lowered in shame. 

Jungkook freezes momentarily, trying to think of a time where she might have heard him say that. 

“Daddy did what?” Jimin asks her trying to hold back a laugh.

Isabella nods and looks at Jimin, “That’s what daddy says when him and mommy are in the bedro-”

“Okay!” You stop your daughter from saying anything else, your had covering her mouth for a second before you remove it again. “I think it’s time for your nap young lady.” 

You pick her up from the floor, and while leaving the room to go upstairs, you can hear the boys laughing and teasing Jungkook about your antics in the bedroom. 

YOONGI

You place the cup of tea in front of Namjoon and he tells you a quick thank you before taking a sip of the hot liquid. 

You take a seat besides Yoongi, taking a sip of your own hot drink. 

Namjoon brought his kids, Jamie and Sofia over for a playdate with Daniel, and its not often the kids really get to play with each other with the boys busy lives, so you take full advantage of the time they can. 

“Do you think they will be okay playing on their own?” Namjoon asks with a hint of nervousness. “The twins are in a mischievous phase at the moment.” 

“I’m sure they will be fine,” Yoongi comments. “Besides, we will be able to hear if they get in to trouble.” 

Half an hour passes in peace, when suddenly a bunch of screaming comes from the play room. 

“What in the-” all three of your jump to your feet and rush to see what all the commotion is about. 

Six pairs of eyes innocently meet you when you enter the room. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. They are all sitting on the floor, toys scattered around them. 

“What is going on in here?!” You ask sternly. “Why are you screaming?”

“We are playing house,” Sofia answers. 

The two boys nod in agreement. “Yes, and Sofia is the mommy and Daniel said that mommy’s scream when they go to sleep.” Jamie says. 

You shock on the air. “What?” You ask in horror and Daniels looks at you. 

“When mommy and daddy goes to sleep, mommy always screams before falling asleep.” 

Next to you, you can hear how hard Yoongi is trying to keep in his laughter. Small chuckles managing to escape before he fully bursts into laughter. 

“Well,” Namjoon comments on a laugh as well.

“Oh my god,” you breath in a fit of embarrassment. 

JIMIN

You love being the host of your family and friend gatherings. You love when everyone comes to yours and Jimin's house for a good meal and a prober laugh. 

You are busy preparing the last touches to tonights meal when the doorbell rings. “Jimin!” You call out. “Can you open the door please?!” 

“Yesss!” He sings as he rushes to open the door. 

“Heeey,” he greets Jungkook an Hoseok with a hug and lets them inside. 

“Are we the first to arrive?” Hoseok asks.

“You are,” Jimin confirms. “____’s in the kitchen, go say hey.” 

Jungkook and Hoseok enters the kitchen where you are, and they slightly startle you when they sneak up behind you to say hello. 

“Sorry,” they both mumble on a chuckle. 

“It’s fine,” you playfully nudge Hoseok's shoulder as Rosie, yours and Jimin's three year old daughter comes storming into the room and goes straight to Jungkook. 

“Kookie!” She yells while he swings her around. 

“Hey you little munchkin!” 

Those two have always had an incredible bond since the day she was born. Jungkook is without a doubt her favorite uncle. 

Rosie puts both hands on his cheeks and looks at him. “I learned a new word!” She tells him proudly. 

You furrow your brows in surprise. This is news to you as well. 

“Really? Let me hear it.” Jungkook cooed. 

“Vagina.” Rosie tells him proudly mispronouncing the word slightly, but it’s very clear what she means. 

You sputter wide eyed at the little girl that just spoke the word. And this is the time where Jimin decides to enter the room, unknowingly. 

��What’s going on?” He asks when he sees three faces of utter shock. 

“Uhh... Rosie learned a new word,” Hoseok hesitantly tells him. 

“Really? What?” 

“No, no! Rosie do not re-”

“Vagina!” Rosie again utters the word, this time at her dad. 

“Rosie!” Jimin scolds. “That is a word we don’t go around saying!” 

“But mommy uses it when she’s talking to you...” she complains.

Rosie shakes in Jungkook’s arms as he begins to laugh at the situation. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment and you can tell that Jimin now finds the situation funny alongside with his band members. 

“This is gold!” Hoseok laughs loudly and the doorbell rings again indicating other guests arrival. 

NAMJOON

For the first time you have brought Jamie and Sofia to the studio to see their dad at work. He has a group session with Seokjin an Yoongi, and you are nervous to bring them along incase they are going to disturb their creative process. 

“Hey daddy,” Sofia immediately jumps into Namjoon's arms while Jamie stays at your side, the shy side of his personality showing when there's a few strangers in the room. 

“Hey kiddo,” Namjoon stands with Sofia in his arms. “Are you not gonna say hi to me?” He directs his question to Jamie. 

You gently urge him forward, and he reluctantly goes but instantly hugs himself around Namjoon's leg, burying his face in the material of his pants. 

“Hey,” you eventually also say, going to give Namjoon a kiss on the lips and to take Sofia from his arms so he can go work. 

You plant yourself on the couch in the corner of the room with the kids as you watch the boys record. It’s Yoongi's turn in the booth and he is rapping into the mic at a fast pace. So fast that it is making you loose your breath... and you are not even the one rapping. 

“Fuck me!” Yoongi exclaims when he messes up on a line. 

You all hear it, and Sofia’s eyes goes wide like she recognizes the bad word. “That’s what mommy says to daddy at night time!” 

Namjoon swirls in his chair like he didn't hear her correctly, “What sweetie?” 

“Mommy always says fuck me to daddy, right Jamie?” she asks her brother who has livened up a bit in the past few minutes. 

“Yes,” he nods in confirmation. 

“That is a naughty word Sofia!” Namjoon scolds. “Never use that word again, okay?” She nods innocently. 

“Okaaay.... I think it might be time for us to go home,” you say in a slight panic. 

“I knew you guys were freaky,” you hear Yoongi say through the mic as you leave with the kids. 

TAEHYUNG

“Jayden!” You call out for him. “Come help set the table please!”

Within seconds Jayden comes running into the kitchen, almost slipping in the process. 

“Slow down there! You know the rule... No running in the house.” Taehyung tells him and hands his three cups. 

“I know daddy, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just don’t do it again,” Taehyung pats his head, and Jayden walks the cups to the dinner table, carefully setting a cup at each plate. 

Jayden is at the age where he now has small chores around the house, like helping setting the table for dinner clearing his plate, cleaning his room and making his bed etc., and in turn he get small allowances or small presents. 

It’s a system that has worked wonders so far.

From the dinner table a loud crash of breaking glass is heard followed by a small but clear “Shit!” coming from Jayden. 

Both you and Taehyung rush to see what happened. One of the glasses has fallen to the floor, pieces of broken glass scattered everywhere. 

“Jayden, step away from the glass please.” You gently tell him and notice the tears in his eyes. 

Taehyung sees too, “Hey, it’s okay buddy! It wasn't your fault. Come here.” Taehyung spreads his arms and Jayden runs into them, hugging his dad close while you work on cleaning the mess on the floor. 

“It’s not your fault that the glass fell, but that was a bad you said after, okay.” Taehyung tells him. 

“But mommy uses it all the time when you are playing grown up games.” 

Your movements halt as you look at your son engulfed in Taehyung's arms. A smile is threatening to spread on Tae’s face. 

“That, that is because it’s a word only adults are allowed to use,” you quickly inject. 

“Only mommy and daddy can say that word, okay buddy?” Taehyung tells him. 

Jayden nods enthusiastically, “Okay daddy.”

SEOKJIN

Jin is having a long day at the practice studio with the boys, so you and Hailey have decided to surprise them with some food. 

There is currently no music playing from the room so you are guessing that they are taking a small break, and you allow Hailey to burst through the door. 

Once she sees her dad, her eyes light up. “Daddy!” she yells and runs to him. 

Sitting on the floor with a bottle of water, Jin is surprised to see his daughter running towards him, but when he sport you behind her with a bag of food he smiles. “Hey my little princess!” He smiles and hugs her close. 

“I brought food!” You tell them all and wave the bag of goodies in the air. 

They all rush towards the table where you have set the food down. “You are a lifesaver ____!” Namjoon tells you, his hand patting your shoulder. 

“I knew none of you would eat for hours unless it was brought to you... so here we are!” You hand out the different containers of food, the room beginning to smell amazing. “Besides, Hailey missed her dad.” 

Jin bounces the little girl on his hip, her small chuckles filling the room. “You missed me huh?” 

Hailey nods, “Yes! Mommy was being mean.” She pouts and you roll your eyes at her attempt to win over her dad. 

“Was mommy being mean?” Taehyung asks her rubbing her cheeks. 

“She kept throwing her toys outside in the rain after I told her, multiple times, not to do so. So I gave her a time out.”

Again Hailey nods and buries her face in Jin’s shoulder. “Mommy was being an asshole.” 

Both Namjoon and Jimin almost choke on their rice upon hearing that word from her. You eye your daughter with shock. 

Jin sets Hailey down much to her protest, “Hailey, we do not go around calling people that!” 

“B-But mommy calls you that when you are being mean to her,” she pouts, lower lip trembling. 

“Because it’s a grown up word, darling.” You tell her. 

“Say sorry to mommy and give her a hug,” Jin says.

Hailey steps towards you and you bend down to her level. She swings her arms around you neck and mumbles a sorry against your hair. 

“It’s okay, just don’t use grown up words again, okay.” 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 5

Requested: No

Word Count: 2838

Warning: Not really anything, maybe cursing at this point I think I at least use one swear word in if not more..haha

POV: Tyler

Notes: The next couple pieces are a bit fluffy. Currently working on Part 7, Part 6 will be up later this week. Also interested in maybe working on another piece, if anyone has any recommendations.

You were going to be a dad; it was the first thought that popped into your head as you opened your eyes. Though why that surprised you, you can’t be certain; as it was the last one you had before you fell asleep. What had transpired last evening was like something out of a movie. Never in a million years had you expected (Y/N) to tell you she was pregnant! That she loved you, you hoped; that you should go to hell was more likely. But never that she was carrying your baby.

It was crazy how when you heard the news; all the doubts you had about being a good father, good husband had just vanished out the window. When she uttered those words all you could think about was; is she ok, is the baby ok, only their well-being mattered. In that moment you realized that your passion for hockey waned in comparison to your need to protect them, care for them, and most of all love them. If you could have only known this three months ago. There was no changing the past now; you needed to work towards the future, a future with (Y/N) and your unborn child.

 That meant getting your ass out of bed, going to morning skate and start playing like you deserved the eight-year contract you just signed. With renewed hope, you hauled yourself to the kitchen to feed the dogs and yourself. Making yourself a healthy breakfast you caught yourself singing along to the radio playing in the background. It was the first time in months you’d actually felt alive.

 Entering the arena, a tad late, you bolted onto the ice; whizzing around getting your skating legs underneath you. The drills that had only just days ago seem mundane and useless, now skated with renewed precision. Working with your line; passes were crisper, shots perfectly placed. Taking aim at the net, you brought your stick back, cracking the puck and letting it soar past Bishop, into the net. God it felt good. “That a boy, Seggy,” Monty finally being able to cheer you on. The hour flew by, faster than when you were five-years-old; thinking it had only been ten minutes. You were last off the ice, taking a few extra practice shots before heading into the locker room. By the time you entered most of your teammates had left, a few lingered; but you sensed Jamie stayed on purpose.

 Once everyone else had taken leave Jamie finally came up to you. “So, I take it things went well last night?” He had known you were going to the charity event in hopes to see (Y/N). While he didn’t entirely approve of your methods, he was rooting for the two of you to reconcile.

 “I wouldn’t put it that way exactly. But we’re making progress.”

 “Wanna talk about it?” Needing to rehash some of last night, you nodded. Staff still milled around, and it was not a discussion that you needed everyone hearing. “I’ve gotta drop this shit off at my house then I’ll be over.” People didn’t give Jamie enough credit; he was an excellent captain, always knowing what his fellow teammates needed, always handling things with digression.

Packing up you headed back to your place; the short ride giving you time to re-evaluate. Jamie pulled in almost immediately behind you. Making coffee you began to recount your night. “I put her through hell Chubbs. You have no idea.”

 “I’m sure things haven’t been easy for her.”

 “That’s putting it mildly. The beginning of the night was an all-out battle. She doesn’t trust me, and I can’t blame her.” You described all the details of what transpired to Jamie, how she didn’t sleep for days, got dismissed from work, and finally how depression had overtaken her. There was just one last thing to mention; tiny as it might be in form, it was probably the biggest aspect of the night. “All that shit I put her through, but that wasn’t the worst thing. And, not that it’s a bad thing. Shit, I don’t even know how to say it. Or even if I should be.” Vaguely wondering who all (Y/N) had already told.

 “Segs I’m not going to say anything to anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. And trust me I’m not going to look at (Y/N) any differently.”

 “Well she’s gonna look differently.” Jamie just stared at you, your comment not making any sense at all. You had a feeling it was the look you had given when (Y/N) had said ‘we’re gone,’ last night. “She’s pregnant man, with my baby.” The possessiveness in you making you add that last part.

 “Fuck are you serious?”

 “Yeah, I was fucking stunned. And then of course I did the most stupid thing possible and asked if it was mine.”

 “Jesus, Tyler! You know that woman loves you. She would never cheat on you.” The fact that he just called you Tyler made you again realize how badly you’d screwed up last night.

 “Well it wouldn’t have been cheating, we weren’t together.” Jamie just shook his head at the stupidity of your statement. You’d tried to lessen the blow for yourself, by justifying your questioning. It rang hollow even to your ears. “You’re right I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking then. Anyway, she’s like fifteen weeks along. I would’ve thought she’d be showing by then or something.”

 “Usually happens around like twelve or sixteen weeks on a first pregnancy. Everyone’s different though” Your quizzical expression had him following up that statement. “What, my sister just had a baby, I know some shit.”

 “Well then you’re gonna teach me. I came home last night and ordered a bunch of books on Amazon.” Admittedly you might have gotten carried away downloading them all; there was, Dad’s Guide to Pregnancy for Dummies, Pregnancy: Put Yourself in her Shoes, We’re Pregnant, and Everything You Wanted To Know About Pregnancy But Were Too Afraid or Embarrassed to Ask. It was a little overwhelming, but you needed to prepare yourself. “I’m kind of at a loss on where to start.”

 Clapping you on the back, giving your shoulder a squeeze; Jamie encouraged you. “You’re gonna do great Seggy. I know my brother-in-law felt the same way, and now he’s a pro with my niece.”

 “Yeah, I hope I even get the chance. I need to get all this shit with (Y/N) figured out before the baby comes. Any ideas on how I can make that happen?”

 “Hmmm, I don’t know man. It needs to be big though. Like fucking fall on your knees beg for forgiveness type of shit.”

 “Thanks Captain Obvious. I know that already. I’ve already got flowers being delivered to her office on Monday, since I have no clue where she’s living at the moment.”

 “You need a god damn flower wall, not just a bouquet.” Jamie was right, you needed to think bigger. Something that said ‘I love you, I’m never leaving you, as well as I’ll never fucking cheat on you again, not even in a million years. That you couldn’t really buy a gift like that at the nearest mall, wasn’t lost on you. It needed to be something that showed her you were working towards your future together; moving on from past mistakes.

  Then like a light switch turning on a lamp; it hit you. “I got it!” excitement sounding in your voice. “A few weeks ago the realtor called. That house I’ve always wanted was coming on the market. (Y/N) and I have ridden past it a million times. We talked about buying it one day or building something like it. It has the perfect backyard for the dogs and kids. I’m gonna buy it, and give it to her. That is if it’s still for sale.” Getting the call weeks ago, you had dismissed the idea. That was your dream home, the place where you wanted to make your life with (Y/N); without her, at the time you just couldn’t even see contemplating it. Now, it was the perfect plan to show her where you wanted your lives to go.

 “I don’t know Segs. That seems a little….extreme.” You wouldn’t let Jamie’s reluctance sway you. “I was thinking more along the lines of like, couples’ therapy.”

 Flashing Jamie, a distasteful look, you grabbed your phone dialing the realtor’s number. A few quick questions and you set up a time tomorrow evening to view the home with (Y/N). Hanging up you gave Chubbs a pleased look. “This is gonna work man. I just feel it.”

 Continuing to shake his head at your strategy, Jamie got up to leave. “Look, I’m gonna head home and grab a nap before the game tonight. Just give it a little more thought before you follow this through. Would you Seggy?”

 “You just don’t get the beauty of it yet, Chubbs. Just wait you’ll see. I’ll talk to you tonight.” Walking him to the door, you glanced at your watch; (Y/N) should’ve called by now. Wordlessly you sent up a quick prayer that she wouldn’t back out. Throwing yourself on the couch, you watched time slowly tick by minute by painstaking minute. You let your mind drift to a time in the near future; you and (Y/N) walking into your new home, carrying a small little bundle in a car carrier. (Y/N) looked gorgeous as always, glancing down at the carrier you checked in on your new born; trying to determine if it was a boy or a girl. The ring on your phone brought you back from your imaginings. (Y/N)’s face appeared on the screen and you smiled to your empty living room.

 “Hey, babe.” It was an easy term of endearment that fell off your lips, after all the time the two of you had spent together.

 “Hey Ty. How was your morning skate?”

 This easy routine conversation felt like a million that you’d had before with her; one that you would have every time you were on the road. It was nice to feel some normalcy again. “Really great. I feel like tonight is going to be a good night for me, ya know.” You meant all those words, after practice you just had a renewed sense about the game.

 “That’s great Tyler. I’m glad you’re feeling better about hockey at least.”

 “I’m feeling better about a lot of things.” Unsaid words hung in the air. There was a long pause, as if she didn’t know what to say next and so to fill the void you added. “You wouldn’t want to come tonight, would you?”

 “Ummmm…I….Ummm…”you frowned knowing the answer she was trying to spit out; your brain already trying to work on a response. “I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable doing that yet Ty.”

 “Yeah sure, I completely understand. Plus, it’ll be noisy and loud, probably not good for the baby.” She laughed at that; the sound, music to your ears.

 “I think the baby can probably handle it, it’s got a lot surrounding it in there.”

 “Oh well, yeah…you’re probably right. Are you feeling ok today?” You hadn’t had a chance to discuss all the particulars with her; however, you’d read quickly last night that most morning sickness is over in the second trimester, which is where (Y/N) was at right now.

 “Yeah, baby and I are having a good morning.” You could almost hear the smile in her voice.

 “That’s great hun. You know we haven’t talked a lot about things, I mean where the baby’s concerned. I realized that when I was talking to Jamie.”

 Screaming into the phone at you, she yelled, “You told Jamie I’m pregnant!?!”

 Clearly this was another obvious mistake on your part; this was not the direction you wanted the conversation to go. You’d had enough screaming and yelling last night. “Um…Yeah. I didn’t think it’s that big of deal. I mean your friends know right?”

 “No Tyler, I haven’t fucking told a sole.” This said in a much softer voice. You hadn’t really given any real credence to her not telling anyone; automatically assuming her friends had this knowledge. After all they were the ones who had taken her to the doctor’s office in the first place.

 “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just thought…well since they took you and all.” It was yet another apology you were having to make to her.

 “No…It’s fine. I should’ve said something last night. I’m sorry I yelled.” Her regret at least showed you were making some headway.

 “Babe, why haven’t you told anyone?” It was a small question and one you wanted answered. Waking up this morning you were bubbling with excitement about the news, wanting to share it. That she had kept this secret from all those she loved for three weeks, was almost unfathomable.

 A long pause prefaced her answer. “I…Ummm…I don’t know Ty. I’m scared.” The last part barely a whisper.

 You knew that giving birth could be a scary time for a woman; hell, you had a feeling that when the time came, you would never know fear like you would in that moment. Already the baby and (Y/N) meant so much to you, and you hadn’t even known for twenty-four hours. Reassuring her, you spoke. “I know it can be scary hun, but we’ll get through this, together.”

 “I think that’s what I’m scared about Ty, the together part. Like I just don’t know.” Couldn’t she realize the life the three of you would have; correction six with the dogs. It would be almost out of a storybook. Lazy summer Sundays at the lake, where you’re laying in the grass, the baby between you. Taking them home after a victory. Hell, you’d already had a crystal-clear image of more kids to come. Knowing your sins of the past, weren’t quite forgiven yet, wasn’t an obstacle you would let get in the way of all that.

 “(Y/N), I know we have a long road ahead of us, but you’ve got to know; no got to believe, we are going to get through this. I promise you.” It was a promise you would continue to make, until she knew it deep in her bones.

 “I wish I could be as certain as you.”

 “We’ll get there, babe. You’ll see.” Silence ensued after that comment, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Your arms ached wanting to hold this woman in them right now and just reassure her. After a moment, you steered the conversation elsewhere. “So, I was kind of hoping that maybe tomorrow after work we could spend some time together. I’ve got something I need to show you.”

 Grateful for the change, she answered, “Really, what’s that?”

 “Oh no, you’re not going to ruin the surprise. You’ve just got to wait and see. So, can I pick you up about seven?”

Finally relenting with a, “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you my new address.”

 It was a step you didn’t think she would take, that she did, had your heart soaring. “Excellent!”

 “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The appointment on Tuesday is at four in the afternoon. Did you want to meet me there or go together?”

 Was this really a question, you could only imagine the stares, you would receive walking in to an OB/GYN office by yourself. “Honestly, I’d feel a bit weird walking in there by myself. Could I pick you up at the office or wherever you’re going to be and we’ll go together?”

 The light chuckle she gave, told you she already knew your reply. “I had a feeling. And yes, I’ll probably be at work; so, if you wouldn’t mind coming there, that would be great.” Plans made for the next few days, your adrenaline was pumping; knowing that you’d get to see her two days in a row. “I should probably let you get a nap; you’ve got a big game.”

 Frowning, time was always too short with her. You longed for those days when she would be around constantly; sharing naps with you. Sighing, you knew that time would come soon enough. “Yeah, I probably should. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven, maybe we could grab something to eat too. Gotta keep you two healthy.” It was also an ulterior motive to be around her longer.

 “Sounds good. Have a good game Ty.”

 “Thanks, babe. I love you.” The last part automatically coming out of your mouth, but the words were always true. Silently you willed her to say them back.

 “Me too.” It wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but then again, she didn’t hang up on you either. Laying the phone down on the table; you focused on what tomorrow would bring, closing your eyes, dreaming of all the possibilities that your future held with (Y/N) by your side.

[holy-honeybees]

Snowdrift

AO3

Rating: T+ (for swearing)

Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.

A/N: I started this back in November but sadly never finished the work. I was thinking of holding off till it started to snow again, but figured now was as good a time as any to try and finish this.The title is taken from Snail's House song "[snowdrift]" which you can check out here! Also, just in case, this chapter does feature a panic attack, though not what I would consider to be a graphic one.

Next Chapter

Chapter One 

It was late December and the Nebraska landscape was quiet in a way that only winter brings. The flat plains that stretched to either side of the roadway were barren and frozen, though the month had yet to see any snowfall. The somber atmosphere was interrupted by the steady rumble of a boxy, yellow van rolling along the empty country highway, heading north. Inside the car, music played, punctuated by soft snoring and the occasional thump of a dog’s tail that wagged in its sleep, the driver tunelessly humming along and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, one metal and the other flesh and bone. As for conversation, it was silent, though not for lack of conscious company. Arthur Kingsmen stole a glance out of the corner of his eye at the specter he shared the front seat with, the ghost staring absentmindedly out of the window at the passing landscape. If it weren’t for the fact that they had tried—and in his own case, succeeded—to kill each other a little over a year ago, Arthur might have called it a companionable silence. As it was, the lack of conversation since Vivi had crawled into the back of the van for a nap was making him nervous. He glanced at Lewis once again before turning back to the roadway with a small sigh, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with his right hand. Things had gotten better between them. Things had been getting better for all of them. The sight alone of Mystery didn’t leave Arthur shaking, plastered to the opposite side of the van. Vivi was getting her memory back steadily, despite the occasional lapse they stumbled across. Lewis…well, Lewis wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. The purple specter didn’t even glare at him anymore. Forgiveness had been achieved despite the niggling doubts at the back of Arthur’s mind that whispered he didn’t deserve it. They had gone from enemies, to strangers, to almost-friends. They had relearned to occupy the same space, even chatting sociably on occasion without Vivi or Mystery playing mediator. It was progress, slow progress maybe, but Arthur wasn’t sure if there was any precedence for how long it might take to repair your friendship with the spirit of your once best friend. If he was being honest, he was happy just to have the chance. Vivi had wanted to celebrate their progress with a new case, one that required road tripping, though Arthur suspected that her decision was partially fueled by her exuberance and impatience at seeing them be friends again. It must have been hard for her to get her memories back at a point in time where everything had changed so much, Arthur mused, once again rubbing at his eyes as he tried to rein in his thoughts. His mind tended to wander when he was tired, and Arthur Kingsmen, certified insomniac, was always tired.

He glanced at Lewis once again, before exchanging the heat blasting out the van’s vents for cold air, shivering despite his vest being zipped up over the long-sleeved white shirt he’d swapped for his usual tee. Arthur knew Lewis would be unbothered, unable to feel the temperature change, and Vivi, bundled in the back of the van in heavy blankets and cuddled up to a fluffy dog, wasn’t likely to notice. He needed to stay awake and the chilly air would help. His coffee thermos had long since run dry, as had the conversation, and after six long hours of driving on only two hours of sleep, anything stimulating would be a welcome change. He had to stay awake, he had to keep driving, he had to be usefu—he had to stay awake. His discordant humming choked off and his fingers tightened around the wheel, ceasing their increasingly frenzied tapping. He glanced at the van’s clock, trying to calculate how much longer it would be before they could pull over in a town to rest, before giving up on the math when he realized he had no idea how far away the next stop was. His mind circled back to the silence, and he warred with himself about conversation topics, his mind buzzing with a dozen unsatisfactory attempts to break the silence. He wondered if it was his fault things were so quiet now. Had he done something wrong, said something wrong? Should he apologize, just in case? Would it be weird to start speaking again now? Would Lewis be annoyed? Arthur felt the irrational need to say something, anything begin to bubble up in his chest as his mind began to spiral out of control, taking apart the last quiet hour like an engine to see if he could figure out the trouble. He had to come up with a conversation topic soon or he would inevitably blurt out the first thing that came to mind or else launch into a long-winded babble about mechanics, robotics, or—god forbid—van maintenance. He could feel the pressure building in his chest, climbing up his throat, and did his best to weld his mouth firmly shut against any awkward attempts at small talk he might make. Then Lewis sat up abruptly, causing Arthur to jolt in his seat, a strangled noise escaping through his clamped-shut lips. Lewis was staring intently in his direction. The dire need to fill the silence was becoming too much to contend with as Arthur opened his mouth to launch into what he hoped wouldn’t be some diatribe about how the number of lug nuts didn’t necessarily equate high performance for a car, just take race cars for example—

Splat!

Arthur startled at the small sound of something hitting the windshield, whipping his head around to Lewis when he heard a soft utterance emit from his skull.

“Look.” Lewis had hunched forward in his seat, crowding his large frame into the windshield of the van, looking upwards with a dreamy expression. Arthur would be ceaselessly frustrated trying to figure out the logistics of how a skull could so effortlessly emote had the expression on the specter’s face not been so soft, so human and alive, leaving a bittersweet feeling to grow in Arthur’s chest.

“It’s snowing,” Lewis said. Arthur blinked as he comprehended the words, before likewise craning forwards in his seat and turning his face skywards. Thick, fluffy white flakes were drifting down from the pale grey sky, making a lazy descent to the world below. He gazed at the beginnings of the flurry with childlike wonder, a small smile slipping onto his face without his notice. He’d seen snow before of course, experienced it in person too, though the opportunity to do so in Tempo, Texas, hadn’t presented itself. Arthur remembered being young, before he’d come to live with his Uncle Lance, his father had tried to show him how to have a snowball fight during a winter they’d spent in Colorado. He never quite got the form right, the snow turning into powder or wet misshapen lumps between his mittens, as opposed to the seemingly perfect spheres his father made. When it came to throwing snowballs, his weak, noodle-like arms weren’t able to muster up much force, while his dad had let loose like canon fire. Arthur had taken one of the frozen projectiles to the face and immediately started crying. He still remembered his father’s large, apologetic smile as he’d laughed and ruffled his hair before he’d taken him to a local diner for hot chocolate, tears quickly forgotten by the child. It was a good memory, and he found his eyes misting over as he once again wished things could go back to the way they were before. As much as he loved his Uncle Lance, as happy as he was to have Lewis back, even in his present condition, he still wished he could turn back the clock.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” Lewis chuckled in the seat beside him, shaking Arthur free of the memory he’d been caught in. The mechanic quickly scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves, hoping his spectral passenger hadn’t noticed. He returned his attention to the pavement ahead of him, just in time to see a pale figure standing in the road only a few feet from the front of the speeding van.

“Shit!” Arthur exclaimed, slamming his foot down on the brake, the tires screeching in protest at the sudden deceleration until the van came to a stop ten feet further down the pavement. He sat there breathing heavily in his seat, Lewis clinging to the side of the van as if he still had a life to fear for. In the back, the dog muttered choice words under his breath at the rude awakening and Vivi mumbled as she slowly became alert.

“Arthur, what the—” Lewis began from the front seat, irritation creeping into his tone. But Arthur had already thrown the driver’s side door wide open and was scrambling outside, uncaring to hear the rest of Lewis’s expletive. He stumbled along the roadway searching for the figure he had seen just moments before, hoping he wouldn’t see them lying unmoving in the middle of the road but expecting it nonetheless. His surroundings were as empty as they had been over the last few hours though.

“Shit. Shit, shit…” Arthur cursed under his breath. He’d just run somebody over, most likely killing them since he’d been strictly adhering to the fifty-five mile per hour speed limit, and this time there was nobody to blame but himself. No extenuating circumstances, no green spirits possessing him, just him and—

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Lewis spoke up suddenly from behind him, causing the shorter man to startle. 

“Th-there was somebody in the road,” Arthur responded, swallowing thickly. They had made so much progress and all of it was going to be undone because he was a murderer again. Lewis merely regarded him quietly, his look appraising. Arthur squirmed under the scrutiny.

“I-I tried to stop, but by the time I saw them there was no…there was no way…” Arthur said, an all-consuming sick-feeling opening up like a pit in his stomach as he trailed off weakly, “We need to find their…body…so we can, y-y’know…”

“Arthur,” Lewis was looking at him with a concerned expression, his head shaking slightly as he slowly said, “there wasn’t anybody in the road.”

“W-what?” Arthur said dumbly, his mouth suddenly dry, “B-but I saw…” He trailed off as he heard the telltale click of dog claws on pavement as Mystery joined them. 

“Arthur,” the disguised kitsune said calmly, “If there was anything in this vicinity that you could have struck with the van, I would have sensed it.” The dog quirked an eyebrow at him as he made to interrupt. 

“And even if you don’t find yourself able to rely on the incredible mystic abilities of a 600-year-old kitsune, my nose would detect it even without the aid of magic. There’s no one out here but us.” 

“O-Oh,” Arthur said, his shoulders slumped as he released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, too quickly taking another, and another to refill his lungs. Two feet clad in thick blue socks entered his field of vision as he stared down at the asphalt, the fourth and final member of their group finally roused and joining where they’d gathered on the road. If Vivi had said anything upon her arrival though, it was lost to the ringing in his ears accompanied by the pounding of his heart. He massaged his sternum absently. 

“Oh,” he repeated numbly, followed by a high-pitched stressed sound that could have been mistaken for a giggle if not for the utter lack of mirth in the noise. Panic set upon him in full force then, his breath hitching as he rode out the panic attack like a wave, the fit of hyperventilation ebbing away after a few minutes, awareness of his surroundings creeping back in.

“You okay, Artie?” Vivi asked, her voice still sleepy, but her eyes sharp and focused on him, brimming with worry.

“I’m okay,” he said, almost automatically, before taking another moment to catch his breath, “Just…relieved. I-Is it bad that I feel like I’m getting better at having panic attacks?” 

“I don’t like the thought of you having that much practice at it,” Vivi mumbled, pressing in close to her friend’s side and wrapping him up in the blanket she’d dragged out with her. Arthur hummed noncommittally, grateful for the shared warmth. He felt a hand on his chin, gently tilting his head back.

“Have you been sleeping?” Lewis inquired, peering closely at Arthur’s face, though the mechanic suspected that the deep shadows and bags under his eyes didn’t require that close of an inspection to be seen.

“I know I saw something,” Arthur said half-heartedly, avoiding the question the specter had posed to him. He had been so certain he’d seen something in the road, but his friends’ reassurances were weakening his conviction. 

“Maybe I am a little tired,” he admitted sheepishly, hands once again coming up to scrub at his eyes.

“How about you let Lewis drive for a little while?” Vivi suggested, already tugging Arthur towards the back of the van, the mechanic easily lead away despite the protests he voiced. Vivi ushered him through the rear doors, depositing him on top of the sleeping bag she’d used earlier and quickly burying him under a pile of blankets.

“Just for a little while,” Arthur said tiredly, his eyelids already beginning to droop, “And no…no changing the van into…whatever it was you did to that monster truck.” He thought he heard Lewis huff a laugh as he burrowed further into the blankets, still warm from Vivi’s nap. He listened as she and Lewis climbed into the front of the van, Mystery’s legs scrambling briefly to gain purchase on the seat, a quiet conversation starting between the ghost and the girl in hushed tones undoubtedly for his own benefit. Arthur sighed as he relaxed further into the warm environment. He’d rest, just for a little while, just enough so that his eyes were clear and focused and didn’t conjure imaginary obstacles in the road.

Just a little while…

Arthur dozed off within minutes, lulled to sleep by Lewis’s voice as it rumbled through the specter’s chest and the familiar scent of blueberry shampoo on the pillow he’d borrowed.

In the distance, a single, silent figure stood, with pale skin and white hair. The snow swirled around her, the spitting snowflakes quickly worked up into a flurry, landing on her nose and blue lips, undisturbed by her lack of breath or body heat. Had one of the Mystery Skulls looked in the rearview mirror of the van, they might have caught a glimpse of her as she faded from view, blending into the wintry landscape, scentless and shapeless as the snow that fell from the sky.

[early-sxnsets]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot

[its-love-u-asshole]

Twelve Hours [Ch. 1]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou has dealt with a lot since he was eighteen, each year bringing the same depressing challenges on the same depressing night. He expects this time to be no different, but the universe is trying desperately to prove him wrong in the most bizarre ways imaginable. So screw it, Kuroo’s only choice is to buckle in and hope he doesn’t die. Easy enough. And hey, with some new allies at his side, maybe he has a chance. Who knows? At least Kuroo is sure of one thing in life when it comes to March 15th, and he stands by this unwritten law, no matter what happens:

If you try to kill pizza delivery boys on Purge Night, you’re irrevocably a bitch. 

Rating: T

Tags: Purge AU, mentions of violence but nothing graphic or too bad, no character deaths here okay, this is borderline crack and idk what I was thinking, first meetings, other characters, shenanigans and just...a lot of fun (it seems angsty but its not)

Note: I said I had a new weird au and I do not lie. This au....is so fun to write lmao I got the inspiration from a writing prompts blog (they always work wonders, I swear) and I'm so glad I actually sat down and produced this, no matter how crackish it is lol. I hope everyone enjoys! I already have 2 more chapters written so 'm going to try and be frequent with the updates (as much as I can anyways), so expect those every other week ^^ Thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over! 

AO3

Sec. 175. In accordance with national law and employment regulations, no government corporations, hospitals, schools, or select businesses are to remain open on the night of the annual Purge. Should a private chain or entity choose to conduct themselves, all labor codes must be adhered to, and employees are to be compensated with a wage fifty times the normal hourly rate, as well as provided with basic equipment needed for protection. Any businesses found to be neglectful of such policies will be examined and penalized.

--

March 15, 2020

1:00 PM

6 hours until the Purge

"Shit."

A shrill, joyless tune rang through Kuroo's room, and his eyes snapped open. His first mistake of many.

The sound of his alarm and his general grogginess had him rolling right out of bed and onto the floor in his piss poor attempt to reach for the snooze button (for real, how had he fucked that up?). His limbs acted like hooks, bringing his bundle of blankets and pillows down with him.

It wasn't that different from a regular morning, in truth. The only difference was that this time, he was ashamed by how late he'd managed to sleep in.

Kuroo prided himself on being an early riser. He had his good name to defend. At this rate, even Bokuto would be up and about (or in the midst of his first nap), that log.

"Dammit," Kuroo muttered, reaching up to silence his phone. The end of the stupid ringtone didn't end Kuroo's suffering. The sun shone through his window, making him squint, and that, along with his mind beginning to power on, reeling with dates and to-do-lists, became far too much stimulation for the morning.

Er...afternoon.

Kuroo sprang up, unaware he'd collapsed the previous night in such exhaustion he hadn't been able to pull his jeans all the way off his legs.

The result? He fell face first onto his unvacuumed carpet once again, and okay, out of all the days of the year, this was not the day for him to be so clumsy. It probably hadn't been a good idea to work a double shift the day before at the pizza parlor, but there was a gaming console he really wanted (not to mention his strong desire to keep his savings growing), and he was so close to being able to afford it.

And make no mistake, Kuroo didn't like stealing, sanctioned crime or no sanctioned crime.

So he was saving up, like a high schooler or something. Oh well, it beat the alternative...

On autopilot, Kuroo fumbled for his remote, groaning as his hand touched something mushy.

Oh god. Gross. Gross and weird, what the fuck--

Clearly, some spring cleaning would be in order for tomorrow. The world ‘tomorrow’ made his heart stop for a second in fear of the unknown, but he got over himself quickly. He had to. Today he just had to.

After some deep breathing, he managed to pry his eyes open enough to find what he was looking for: the remote. Switching on the television, because that's what he did on a normal day, he couldn't help but groan at his mistake.

Routines could be his downfall at times, especially when his television automatically turned onto the news station. He should really know better by now…

This was the one day where he preferred to not watch the news while he got ready. Kuroo would've much preferred some B movies, or even better, a documentary on how to make soap.

Not caring enough to switch the set off, he threw the remote to his bed, and waited for the coverage to begin. No point avoiding it now. In the meantime, he figured he really needed a quick rinse, and a good brush through his hair (it wouldn't look any better afterwards, but it was the thought that counted).

Kuroo had to return to work by five anyways, as was policy. Even though the pizza place he worked at wouldn't start accepting orders until the start of the Purge, they had to be there to lockdown, take inventory, prepare their cars, and get their gear on.

So basically, Kuroo would have to get gas, organize his artillery, and make lunch all before then.

I want ramen...no...fried chicken.

Fuck it, he was getting paid fifty times his usual wage tonight, he could afford to treat himself to both.

The news logo flashed onto the television, gaudy and bright. On screen, two anchors sat, the countdown clock framed innocently in the upper right-hand corner.

"Good afternoon and thank you for joining us on the eve of our nation's 7th annual Purge! I sure hope everyone is excited. What should we be expecting from tonight Kudobera-san?"

Before closing the bathroom door, Kuroo glanced back, catching the far too cheery smiles of the news anchors giving their annual spiel.

"Well Takigawa-san, we expect a much higher turnout than last year. However, reports show that a lot of businesses have upgraded to new top of the line security systems. It'll be interesting to see how these changes will affect the crime rates tonight.

"But in celebrity news, idol Fuwa Reiko's Purge bash is said to have a guest list of over fifty people this year, and prizes will include..."

Kuroo rolled his eyes, grabbing the nearest bath towel, and shutting the door.

--

The Purge began when Kuroo was eighteen years old, and it was truly a terrifying and horrific time and blah, blah, blah, blah...

Yeesh.

Look. Kuroo could go on and on about the corruption and politics surrounding the Purge and how it came into being. He could then spend another few hours about how it ended up impacting him personally. His newly formed anxiety, his suppressed fears, the fact that many people he knew and met sometimes didn't survive the year.

Very grim stuff. No fun.

Tonight wasn't about any of that, and Kuroo wasn't going to waste time on detailing the Purge and all the blood-chilling and fucked up things which happened during it.

No one had time for that.

And yeah, one day Kuroo dreamed he'd be rich enough to move away from this cursed nation, safe and healthy with all his friends without the Purge looming over him every month until March rolled around.

But, it was not the time for escape quite yet, so Kuroo refused to dwell on the subjects of blood and gore. No time to reminisce over his childhood, no reason to recount his tragic backstories or feelings on the matter.

Not tonight. Maybe next year.

Tonight, he had a twelve-hour shift, and he was expecting to be paid well.

The point of all this? (Aside from the gaming anyways...) Simple. In order to one day achieve his dream, and keep himself alive until then, he needed money. Purge night, as shitty and immoral as it could be, let him earn enough money to cover three months’ worth of rent. That was without tips too.

That was his only focus.

So in short, in order to keep himself sane, Kuroo worked hard, and had no problem with diverting his internal angst into jokes at any given moment.

Liiiiike now.

Kuroo kicked open the door to Bokuto's bedroom, where he was still cuddling Akaashi against his chest. One of their infamous afternoon naps. How cute.

They were sickening. "Hello naughty children, it's murder time!"

The couple jolted awake, and while he might deny it later, Bokuto totally screamed. Kuroo smirked as Bokuto flailed on the floor, reaching for a nearby water gun to defend himself.

Given that Kuroo knew Bokuto was quite skilled with actual guns, it was a sight to see.

Akaashi glared at Kuroo from the bed, eyes full of pure, empty disgust, like Kuroo was a dead bug on the windshield of Akaashi’s life. Kuroo's joy was not deterred, and in a sudden moment of bluntness, Akaashi uttered his first sentence of the day: "Kuroo-san, I hate you."

"Is that any way to treat your best friend who woke you guys up in time for your flight?" Kuroo wiped his fake tears, gesturing to the bundle of suitcases Akaashi had packed dutifully two nights prior.

"I had an alarm set--"

"And your best friend, who made you guys lunch and drives you to the airport every year," Kuroo continued, not willing to wilt under Akaashi's piercing stare. Bokuto stayed on the floor, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

Kuroo could defend himself alright? Being a cunt was a defense mechanism he used so he wouldn’t just start fucking crying all over how much he loved his friends on the worst day of the year, so he was sticking with it. They knew of course, but maybe they didn’t say anything for Kuroo’s sake, and he loved them for it.

Akaashi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he channeled his inner anger management guru. Kuroo liked to poke fun at the fact that maybe Akaashi needed to purge more than anyone, but they all knew the raven abhorred violence.

Well, most of the time.

Without another word, Akaashi chucked a pillow directly at Kuroo's face (with impressive force he might add), and Bokuto became aware enough to tackle Kuroo to the ground two seconds later.

And though Kuroo whined and complained, eventually crying his surrender after Bokuto had him pinned down long enough, he couldn't help but smile at how much he cherished these moments.

Bokuto and Akaashi would only be gone for a week, but he would miss them. They always picked the time of the Purge to take their yearly vacation.

It was...better that way.

They could afford it too, being players for the national team. Bokuto got nervous and overly protective whenever the Purge rolled around, and though Akaashi wouldn't admit it, they were both scared of ever being remotely close to a situation in which they might lose each other.

So, they decided to travel to a different country every time the heinous event rolled around, one where the Purge had no weight or influence.

As Kuroo made them their pancakes and helped them with their bags, he couldn't help but doubt himself, like he did each year.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us Kuroo, we can still get you a ticket, we can figure something out!" Bokuto's concerned look almost had Kuroo giving in. He slammed the trunk, putting Bokuto's suitcase down next to him.

The airport was never that crowded on Purge night. Guess people trust their security systems enough to not leave the county.

The couple never failed to offer Kuroo a ticket. They cared about him, didn't like the thought of him not being safe. Kuroo agreed. That's why he'd begged his family to move out of the country years ago, why he encouraged Bokuto and Akaashi to leave around this time as well.

But Kuroo...Kuroo was stubborn.

He hadn't finished school yet, and his savings weren't where he wanted them to be. When he moved, he wanted to be secure. Plus...Kuroo could be kind of dumb about these things. He got a twisted sense of pride when he survived Murder Night™ every year, even more so now that he chose to work during the event.

Yeah...that was a whole different story.

Kuroo shook his head, smiling easily. "We've been over this man, you don't have to worry about me. I refuse to die."

Akaashi curled his hand around Bokuto's before the other could begin to protest. Akaashi disagreed with Kuroo's decisions too, but he knew arguing got them nowhere. "You are like a roach."

Kuroo stumbled back, as if punched. "Ouch. I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"Akaashi."

They all laughed, and as the clock struck four, he watched them disappear into the airport, after a painful, drawn out embrace, waving at him one last time.

He smiled through his misty eyes, and couldn't help but feel relief knowing they'd be far away by 7 PM.

--

Now generally, it was pretty agreed by all that during the Purge, people shouldn't target delivery boys. Out of all the people to kill, you're gonna go after Papa John? Get fucked.

Who the hell was shitty enough to murder some sad minimum wage worker?

Well, a lot of people actually. People were cruel during the Purge, that was sorta the point. But, in Kuroo's experience, the freaks with knives and masks would often overlook him and his crappy pizza delivery uniform.

Some things were worse than death, they probably thought.

Kuroo wouldn't complain. The less trouble for him the better. While he did occasionally have to fire warning shots and rev his car at people who were a bit bolder and more bloodthirsty, he stayed fairly safe.

Or as safe as one could be, surrounded by crazed people wielding machetes. He was more than fine with ignoring the screams and explosions by turning up his stereo to inhuman levels, bottling up his inner hero.

Because in reality, Kuroo had never managed to shake his core beliefs, no matter how fucked up the system was. He was honest, valued good work ethic, respected his elders, all that jazz.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou was the guy who helped old ladies cross the street. Definitely not someone who should be working during the Purge. But, well, his mother always told him people would underestimate him if given the chance.

Kuroo's natural instinct was to defend, to protect. However, during the Purge, it simply wasn't practical, and he was forced to hate himself for it later.

At least he had Matsukawa and Semi to keep him company.

"Happy Murder Night, would you like to hear about our specials?" Matsukawa deadpanned as Kuroo walked through the front door of the parlor. The blast shields were already up, and the shop was technically closed. The only occupants of the booths were his fellow coworkers, the other people insane enough to be working that night.

Semi rolled his eyes, greeting Kuroo without a polite nod. He assumed Kyoutani was in the back, making breadsticks. Again, normal day, if he didn't count the various rifles and bulletproof vests spread out on the counter. Backup measures, in case somehow, the titanium doors were broken down.

Kuroo laughed, walking over to where Matsukawa sat perched behind the register, and picked up the vest with his nametag on it.

So much to do, so little time.

He clipped the vest on securely, holstering two of the guns and a knife.

"I don't know how this place stays in business," Semi muttered from where he polished the counter. "Why would people order pizza on the most dangerous night of the year?"

"You say that as if we don't get at least ten or so orders every year," Matsukawa reminded.

"Robbing and plundering does work up an appetite," Kuroo agreed.

"Like you'd know," Semi said with a snort, throwing the dirty dish rag at Kuroo's face. All this disrespect today.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I once stole a bag of chocolate coins from the discount store." Kuroo crossed his arms, his grin wide and triumphant.

Matsukawa squinted, tapping his hands on the bright red countertop. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"..."

"Did you cry afterwards?"

Fuck.

Kuroo said nothing, and Semi looked two seconds away from laughing his ass off. Wankers. All of them. Nothing but wankers.

"I'll take that as a yes," Matsukawa said, ducking just in time to avoid Kuroo's headlock.

It was at that moment Kyoutani made himself known, asking if Kuroo had ever done jail time for a crime so heinous.

"You've got jokes now? What's the world coming to?" Kuroo cried, falling to his knees.

"Given what day it is, should you really be asking that?" Semi said, and man, too far.

They all stared at each other, letting the dark foreboding and realization settle over them. The thoughts sprang up like they always did, violent and despair-riddled, before Kuroo defiantly squished them down.

Then, they all broke out into laughter, the kind which brought tears to the eyes.

Yeah, the Purge was fucked up, but it brought them closer together.

And honestly, grease stains or not, Kuroo was glad to wait out the Purge in the company of these assholes.

After all, it was the best he was gonna get for now.

--

Kuroo's car was geared up and ready to go.

The delivery vehicle given to them for Purge night only opened from the driver's side. The rest of the car was plated with a lightweight metal, armor essentially. The front behaved more like a battering ram than a hood, in case of extreme circumstances, like having to get through a crowd of attackers. The mirrors were shatter resistant, and the tires were as slash and puncture resistant as possible. Still, the car came equipped with a set of spares just in case.

They kept the car in a special fortified garage which was only accessible through the parlor. The garage door into the parlor locked every time it was closed, a security measure for if someone tried to break in while Kuroo was leaving for a delivery.

All in all, Kuroo felt safe at his workplace. Outside though...he didn't trust anything, and for good reason. Better safe than sorry.

After helping with food prep, checking the car's interior, and filling up the tank, hours had gone by. Looking at his clock, Kuroo's heart skipped a beat.

6:50 PM. Ten minutes until the Purge.

Dread coiled in his gut for a moment before it was gone. Kuroo never got used to this, but he knew what to expect now after seven years.

"Kuroo c'mon, time to get inside," Semi said, poking his head through the garage door. Kuroo was technically safe in the garage but...they just liked to all be together during the opening broadcasts.

Taking a deep breath, Kuroo followed after him, just in time to catch the start. The large flat screen in the dining area which usually played sports games and cheesy commercials lit up blue, the emergency broadcast text slowly beginning to scroll up the screen.

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by your government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. May God be with you all."

The classic pause.

The silence.

Kuroo never got why there had to be the brief stall before the alarms began, but he despised it. Everyone in the parlor remained stone-like as the chilling sirens began echoed in the distance. They were ghostly almost, unreal, like a thick fog no one could escape from. Sometimes, Kuroo could hear them in his dreams, and he’d wake up with two pillows pressed against his head, as if trying to block the sound.

Kuroo couldn't help but laugh bitterly to himself.

Guess the walls aren't that thick.

As the sirens began to fade, none of them moved. Yeah, it never stopped being sort of surreal. They waited for the telltale crash of store glass or gunshots in the distance, but for now, things had yet to get into full swing.

Or so they'd thought.

Life was weird and unexpected. That much Kuroo knew. But if someone had told him all the twists and turns he'd go through over the course of the next twelve hours, he would have laughed in their face.

He'd be wrong though.

Now, it wasn't abnormal for them to get orders later in the night, usually from families waiting out the Purge or from rich assholes throwing Purge parties. Kuroo didn't get it, and he didn't appreciate the calls, but it was his job.

But again, the calls normally came later. Like, much later.

So when the phone on the counter started to ring not even two minutes after the sirens stopped, only Kyoutani managed to find his voice through the shock of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

[mermaid-reyes]

my good friend @lena221b recently reminded me of a series of drabbles i wrote in response to anon asks aaaaages ago. i couldn’t find the original posts (we’re talking years ago, that’s too much scrolling for one mortal girl) so i decided to lump them all together here. the following are a few short snippets of derek and stiles’ life together. in my head they’re all part of the same universe. enjoy!

"I dream about riding you sometimes."

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice, just tries to roll himself back over. ‘Tries’ being the operative word, because he somehow manages to get himself tangled in his hoodie and then he’s just struggling on the ground with his head trapped in the sleeve.

Ordinarily Derek would help him, would feel guilty about dropping him in the first place, but right now he’s too preoccupied with choking on his own spit.

Stiles fights his way out of his clothing and gazes up at Derek.

"You’re so big though, I’m not even sure I could get my legs around you."

Can werewolves go into cardiac arrest? Because it’s happening, Derek’s pretty sure it’s happening.

"And you’re so strong, too. I bet I could just climb up on there and you could keep going for hours."

Stiles smacks his lips and wiggles on the forest floor and seems completely unconcerned with the way Derek’s world is rearranging itself around him.

"Such a scary wolfy," Stiles mumbles, eyelashes fluttering. "You’re also really fluffy though." He reaches out and starts patting Derek’s boot. "Preeeetty."

Derek steps carefully away from Stiles and smashes his head into the nearest tree. A cut appears on his eyebrow and then heals before he’s even wiped the blood away. Because Stiles is talking about riding Derek in his wolf form. Like he’s some kind of glorified pony. And Derek is so pathetically gone on this boy that he’d let him. He’d growl and snarl and snap his jaws and then he’d get down on his haunches and carry Stiles wherever he wanted to go.

He’s absolutely, definitively not disappointed that Stiles isn’t talking about riding him in his human form because that would be gross and creepy and taking advantage of Stiles’ intoxicated state.

Right, Stiles, who is drunk, and burrowing into a pile of leaves.

Derek sighs at his life and stomps over to pick Stiles up again.

"Whoa, spinny!" Stiles shrieks and clutches at Derek’s collar. When he’s got his feet back under himself he looks around and frowns. "Nooo, no standing, it’s nap time."

"It’s three o’clock in the morning," Derek grumbles.

"Which is why it’s nap time," Stiles insists, like it wasn’t his idea to get smashed in the woods in the middle of the night like an utter moron.

"You can sleep back at the loft, okay?" Derek bargains, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and hauling him forward.

"Mmm your bed," Stiles groans, stuffing his face into Derek’s neck. "Been trying to get into your bed for months."

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

                                                              *****

The first time Stiles walks into Derek’s loft and finds him cooking he’s so stunned that he forgets to actually stop walking and crashes into a table.

Derek raises an eyebrow without looking away from where he’s blanching (blanching) vegetables. Once Stiles has stopped rolling around on the floor he uses two bar stools to pull himself right-side-up and brushes himself off as nonchalantly as he can manage.

"You cook?" he asks, trying his hardest not to appear incredulous, but Derek is wearing oven mitts so it’s not really going too well.

Derek levels him with his patented ‘why am I dating an idiot?’ look. It’s very, very flat.

"Yes, Stiles, I can cook," he says, and pokes at something sizzling in a pan. Stiles boggles. Derek raises his other eyebrow this time. "Why is this shocking? You know I eat."

"Well, yeah, objectively,” Stiles agrees. “I just always assumed you lived off a diet of Hot Pockets, squirrels, and the tears of your enemies.”

So very flat.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint. I’ll throw this in the bin and then head out to rustle up some woodland creatures.” He goes to turn off the burner and Stiles dives across the kitchen.

"No, no, no. This is good. This is — What is this?" Stiles takes a whiff and just about hits the floor again. "Oh god, feed me.”

(Stiles can cook too, but his speciality is sweet things. Derek couldn’t bake a cake to save his life. They’re a match made in culinary heaven.)

                                                            *****

"No," Derek says sternly, giving Stiles everything his eyebrows have to offer. "Absolutely not."

"What! Derek, come on, you know you want one," Stiles wheedles, waggling his own eyebrows at Derek. He looks ridiculous and definitely not appealing.

"I have my hands full enough just trying to look after you.”

"Hey!" Stiles squawks. "I resent that! I am a fully functioning adult, thank you very much," he says, puffing himself up.

All Derek has to do is glance pointedly at the thing curled up in Stiles’ arms and he puffs right back down again.

"I’ll keep her at my place! You won’t even know she’s there. I’ll take such good care of her, I swear." Derek remains unmoved. Stiles pulls out the big guns. “Babe, please.” Damn him. “Just look at that face. You can’t say no to that face.”

The thing is, Derek is dangerously close to letting slip just how true that is. He’ll never be able to say no to Stiles. He might put up a token protest, but Derek knows that the second Stiles asks him for anything he’s already screwed.

And right now Stiles isn’t pulling his punches either. He’s got the big eyes and the pouty lips and his neck stretched out at the most perfect angle and Derek’s ready to fall to his knees and offer Stiles everything.

Except, what, no, not this time, Stiles is starting to make him legitimately insane.

"Who are you?! Hagrid?!" he exclaims. "Put the dragon down, Stiles."

Stiles pulls this heartbroken face, and Derek is almost swayed except dragon.

"But she’s just a baby!" Stiles wails. "She doesn’t know how to look after herself."

"She just singed off Scott’s eyebrows," Derek says flatly. "I think she’ll be fine."

(On the walk back to the Jeep Derek offers to buy Stiles a cat in place of the dragon, because they’re basically the same thing anyway and Derek is a sucker.)

                                                            *****

"I told you not to do it," Derek sing-songs, condescendingly, not even looking up from his book. The ass.

"No you didn’t," Stiles moans from his place on the couch. He removes his arm from his face to glare weakly at said ass. "You said, ‘As if you’d ever get your nipple pierced’. Which was basically a direct challenge. Which means of course I did it.”

Derek doesn’t even stop reading to roll his eyes at Stiles. He just kind of widens them slightly with a long-suffering look on his face. The ass.

"This is entirely your fault," Stiles whines. Derek doesn’t respond at all.

Stiles wriggles around making pitiful noises until Derek snaps his book shut with a growl. “What.”

"It hurts," Stiles sniffles.

"Well that’s because you poked a piece of metal through your flesh," Derek bitches, but he gets up and walks over to the couch anyway. He lifts Stiles’ legs and settles himself down, Stiles’ thighs splayed across his lap. Then he curls his hand around Stiles’ knee and begins leeching his pain.

"Better?" he asks, and Stiles hums in the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s just about to drop off the edge of consciousness when something hot and wet envelops his nipple. Stiles jerks violently and finds Derek staring up at him from his chest, eyes dancing. He grins wickedly and flicks his tongue against the bar and Stiles melts.

(Derek ends up loving Stiles’ nipple piercing. Stiles lords it over him for months until Derek comes home with a piercing in a much more sensitive place. Stiles’ mouth is busy doing other things after that.)

                                                            *****

Derek went into this relationship with Stiles with his eyes wide open. Which basically meant he was expecting a lot of sex, because every second word out of the kid’s mouth was innuendo and he smelled constantly turned-on. And Stiles did not disappoint. There was a lot of sex. A lot.

Derek was not expecting the cuddling. But five months in Derek’s beginning to wonder if Stiles is actually a were-octopus and just hasn’t told him yet.

No matter how aggressively he spoons Stiles when they’re drifting off to sleep, he’ll always wake up buried under warm, clingy boy.

When Derek joined the Stilinski’s in visiting the Sheriff’s mother over Thanksgiving, he passed out alone on the couch and woke to Stiles wrapped around him, his face shoved under a throw pillow.

Stiles holds him in the shower, tucks Derek under his arm at pack movie nights, plasters himself to Derek’s back in the kitchen when he’s soft and tired-eyed.

The first time Stiles grabbed Derek’s hip and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder while they were both brushing their teeth Derek spent two whole minutes staring at him in the mirror. The first time. Now it feels weird whenever he’s not lopsided during his entire morning routine.

For years after Kate, Derek was uncomfortable being touched. Other people’s hands made his blood pump harder and his breathing turn shallower and his muscles coil up. Now, the safest he ever feels is when Stiles’ arms are snug around his heart.

[desktopgargoyle]

The Road Trip Series - Chapter 3

AN: so this chapter is super duper late....but better late than never?

ff.net link

Chapter 3

“Nino really needed some rest, huh?” Marinette looks over her shoulder at Nino and Adrien, who are both curled up against each other and snoring in the back seat of the car.

“Yeah, he’s had some pretty crazy shifts lately. I barely get to see him awake anymore.” Alya laughs somewhat sadly. “He works late and sleeps late, I leave early and end up asleep before he gets in. You know how it is.”

Alya’s tried not to make a big fuss over Nino’s working hours because she knows that he’s doing a job he loves and excels at. But she will admit that it’s difficult for her to not see him as much as she used to. She misses Wednesday Spaghetti Nights on the sofa watching old horror movies with awful special effects and she misses making pancakes at midnight on Breakfast for Dinner Fridays. She misses going on dates and she misses lazy Sundays just hanging out in pyjamas with hot chocolate.

They’ve have talked about it a couple times and Nino hates their reduced time together as much as Alya does. The difference is that he also loves his job, and Alya is not about to try to tear him away from it just because she misses him. Besides, it’s not like she never sees him, it’s just that she sees him less than she’s used to and –

“Alya, you know it’s okay to miss him, right?” Marinette has been watching Alya chew on her lip and furrow her eyebrows for the last couple minutes. She knows exactly what Alya is thinking. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. Your feelings are what they are, you can’t help it.”

At the back of the car Nino stirs slightly, moving so that his head lolls just above Adrien’s shoulder as his hat falls off his head. Alya looks at him fondly in the rear-view mirror and a small smile creeps onto her face.

“Okay then, Miss Relationship Guru,” Alya smirks at Marinette. “How about we talk about your love life instead of my petty issues? A certain someone has totally got it bad for you!” Alya cackles as she watches Marinette’s face turn beet red in embarrassment.

“Nobody has anything bad for me, Al! Don’t make that kind of stuff up.” Marinette squeaks, sinking into her seat. She’s just glad that Adrien is a heavy sleeper and will (thankfully) hear none of this.

“Come on, Mari. I thought he was meant to be the oblivious one here, not you! The boy has been dropping so many hints and you have thus far failed to see every single one!”

Marinette shakes her head vehemently. Alya’s been saying this for years and trying to convince her that Adrien likes her back. Marinette knows he doesn’t. If he did in fact like her, wouldn’t he attempt to ask her out or at least drop some more obvious hints? God knows she’s been so obvious at times that she might as well wave a massive flag saying ‘hey there, just so you know I am a little bit in love with you so would you please love me back?’ in his face. With sparkles. And all-caps writing. In neon colours. Actually, scratch that. Flashing neon colours.

“I’m not oblivious!”

Alya cocks an eyebrow at her. It’s her ‘are-you-freaking-kidding-me-right-now’ look and Marinette has found herself on the receiving end of said look more and more in the last few years.

“Remember the school trip to London?”

“The one where we lost Juleka and Rose for about three hours and later found them in M&M World?”

“Yeah, that one.” Alya laughs.

It had been an eventful trip, they could say that much at least. Aside from the Juleka and Rose thing, there had also been an incident in Harrods where Chloé got into a fistfight with some rich brat over a pair of Valentino pumps that resulted in her eventually being escorted out of the building, screaming that her father would hear about it. On their third day in London, Adrien was stampeded by crazed fans as the class left the Natural History Museum and then on the fourth day, Max and Kim somehow ended up stranded in Piccadilly Circus while the rest of the class was at the National Portrait Gallery. Needless to say, there had been no abroad trips for the class after that.

“It was such a great trip, right? I love London so much, even if we were stuck with all the tourist trap locations.” Marinette smiles.

“Yeah, and the four-hour Eurostar journey wasn’t too bad either.” Alya shoots Marinette a sly glance.

“I mean, you and Nino sure had a blast. You guys were being so mushy I wanted to gag!” Marinette snorts.

“Oh, and you and Adrien weren’t being equally as mushy?” Alya retorts. Marinette flushes.

“We weren’t being mushy, we were never a couple! And the only reason we were sat together is because a certain couple couldn’t bear to be apart for four measly hours and it was a toss-up between me and Chloé!” Marinette pulls a face at Alya and slumps down in her seat.

Alya rolls her eyes. If she remembers correctly, she and Nino had video footage of Marinette and Adrien tangled up together and snoring. Of course, neither of them has ever seen this footage because she’s keeping it a secret until their wedding.

“Believe what you will, Mari, but my boyfriend knows his husband very, very well and, from what we saw, Model Boy’s intentions were a little more than just platonic, if you catch my drift.”

Marinette groans and leans her head against the cool glass of the window. Over the years there were a couple moments in which she’d let herself indulge in the idea that the attraction was mutual. The Eurostar trip was one of them. Adrien had all but dragged Marinette into the seat beside him and immediately began chatting away as if it were no big deal.

One hour into the journey he decides that he has to take as many pictures together as possible with as many stupid faces as possible, claiming that he rarely gets to do things like this and he needs to document it. He almost sounds like Alya. He saves every single one, even, much to Marinette’s horror, the photos in which she looks like a complete and utter idiot. Of course, he looks great in Every. Single. Damn. Photo. (Marinette’s theory to this day is that a life of modelling has made him permanently photogenic and there will never ever be a bad photo taken of him.)

Two hours into the trip, he gets up to go stretch his legs.

“I don’t think you get it, Mari, I’m too tall for these seats. My legs need freedom. We didn’t have, like, a million revolutions and behead the king just for me to endure this kind of oppression!”

“Are you calling me short?” That’s all she could think to say because holy-nickname-Batman he has just called her Mari. This is the first time he has ever in the history of their friendship called her that and Marinette is having a minor breakdown.

“Seriously? That’s your concern?”

“I’ll have you know that I am 5’6” and I am not short.”

“Mari, you’re 5’5”.” Crap, he did it again.

“Shut up, I’m still above average.”

“Only by an inch though.”

“I thought you were going to stretch your legs, you freakishly tall person?”

“Mari, I am a very average height. If you think I’m freakishly tall then you kinda just proved me right.” This marks three times in one conversation. Perhaps you could call it overkill, but Marinette doesn’t care.

With that, he flashes her a grin and saunters (he’s such a model) down the aisle toward the onboard café.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta Update 1: I’ve changed ur contact name from Alyyyybuggg to Al dente pasta Update 2: there’s a toddler behind me who keeps kicking my seat

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Al dente pasta? Really? Is this because of the journalism competition? Because I swear if that is a fucking pun about my year’s supply of pasta prize I will kill you. Was this Adrien’s idea? It was totally his idea. Never mind. You are in the clear. I know you love him but I swear to God I will bake his head into a lasagne.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta u didn’t let me get to update 3 also leave Adrien alone and don’t bake the love of my life into a lasagne

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Ooooh what’s update three?

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta Alya. he cALLED ME MARI

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg WHAAAAATTTTTT GIIIIIRRRRLLLLLLL

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta wait for it THREE TIMES IN ONE cONverSATION

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg HOLY SHITTTTTT (babe I love you but your grammar is killing me)

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta I DONT CARE ABOUT GRAMMAR ADRIEN CALLED ME MARI THREE TIMES

From: Ninbro To: Maribro dude I’m trying to nap and all I can hear is alya squealing wtf happened

From: Maribro To: Ninbro adrien called me mari three times in one conversation

From: Ninbro To: Maribro shit dude thrice mari-d congratz anyway tell alya to shut up bc she won’t listen to me goodnight

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Did Nino just tell you to tell me to shut up?! I’m gonna kill him.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta let the boy sleeeep

From: Adrien To: Mari Hey, I’m in the queue at the snack bar. You want anything? It’s kind of a long queue so you have time to decide :)

From: Mari To: Adrien oh, um. Idk, depends on how expensive because I’m kind of broke at the moment.

From: Adrien To: Mari Nah, don’t worry about that. I’m paying :)

From: Mari To: Adrien WHAT? NO!

Marinette stares at her phone. He isn’t responding. She stretches up slightly to scan the carriage and spots Alya and Nino a couple seats ahead. She hazards another glance at her phone but still nothing. Hopefully he’s taken her somewhat panicked caps lock texts as a ‘No thanks, I don’t want anything’. Hopefully.

“Right so you didn’t specify so I grabbed you a hot chocolate and this sweet and salty popcorn. Best of both worlds, right?” Adrien throws the bag of popcorn at Marinette and slides into his seat next to her. He places the hot chocolate down on the folding table in front of her and opens the lid of his coffee, adding two sugars. Marinette stares at him.

“What? I know you’re trying to cut down on the caffeine so I figured hot chocolate was a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, I am nowhere as motivated as you and I have no intention of kicking my caffeine intake.” Adrien takes a sip of his coffee before suddenly wincing. “And there go all of my tastebuds…ouch.”

Marinette opens the lid of her cup and blows some of the steam away. “Thanks,” she smiles. “But seriously, how much did this total? Let me pay you back, seriously.” She leans down and begins rummaging around in her bag. Adrien grabs her hands and pulls them away from her bag, completely stunning her into stillness.

“I said I’d pay, and I paid. It’s no big deal, what are friends for, am I right?” He grins. She watches him intently as he eyes his drink cautiously, attempting another sip while simultaneously looking terrified.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta you know that stupid cliché about how you fall in love with someone more and more each day? I don’t think it’s stupid anymore. Alya I’m so totally screwed.

Alya still has the screenshot of that last message. She’s saving that for the wedding too. She elbows Marinette in the ribs lightly, telling her to stop looking like a lovesick chihuahua.

Once again, they’ve hit traffic. Alya takes the opportunity to stretch her arms and roll her neck; driving for extended periods of time is not necessarily her favourite thing to do but she’ll sacrifice comfort to let Nino sleep. She would let Marinette drive except Nino has henceforth banned Marinette from the driver’s seat following the Crash of July 19th (which, in Marinette’s opinion was actually not a crash because I only scratched the car slightly, Nino).

“Kinda busy today, isn’t it?” Marinette yawns. She checks her phone. No new messages. No updates. No alerts. “Weren’t we supposed to be halfway there already?”

“That was the original plan. From what I can tell, we are currently an hour and a half behind schedule.” Alya groans. “You know, I had this entire trip planned down to the minute! And now look at us!”

Marinette nods sympathetically. “I know, Al. On the plus side, at least it’s not – ” Thunder cracks in the darkening skies above before Marinette can finish her sentence. “ – raining.” Alya shoots her an ‘are you serious’ look and lets her head drop against the steering wheel with a loud thud, hitting the car horn in the process.

“Shit!” Alya starts up in surprise as Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

The rain starts out as a light drizzle, the droplets scattering across the glass like constellations as it beats softly against the cool windows of the car. The sky turns from a crystal blue to a pale grey as the rainclouds stretch across, moving slowly and heavily. It remains this way for about fifteen minutes before the rain begins to fall harder. It pelts down aggressively, hitting the window panes and rolling down in streams. The gentle patterns formed earlier on the glass blur together until it becomes difficult to see properly.

Alya runs a hand through her hair and turns the window wipers up to a faster setting. As much as she loves the rain, she’d really rather not drive in it; slippery roads tend to make her nervous.

The traffic gradually begins to move again, although at an agonising pace, which both frustrates and relieves Alya. On one hand, she really wishes they could get the hell out of this nightmarish rut in their journey and just make it to Marseille already but, on the other hand, the sluggish speed means that there won’t be any asshole drivers trying to force her to speed up in the freakish downpour. She supposes that, in some ways, the positive cancels out the negative so she’ll just have to make do and be happy for now.

Adrien stirs slightly in the back seat. He groans slightly as he stretches his arms out (he whacks Nino in the face in the process); he’s starting to believe that he is, in fact, too tall to nap comfortably in such a cramped space.

“Are we there yet?” he mumbles groggily as he rubs his eyes.

“Sorry, cupcake, we’ve hit some more traffic.” Alya’s really not sure why she feels the need to christen Adrien with these ridiculous pet names. It’s just become a Thing she does, despite his being over a foot taller than her. The list has only increased over the years and now includes sunshine, buttercup, sweetie, My Son, kitty-cat, jellybean and, Alya’s personal favourite, Mon Petit Cantaloup. Nino has started to use My Son and buttercup, which makes Alya prouder than it should.

“If it makes you feel better, you managed to nap for almost two hours.” Marinette chirps.

“Yeah, you and your husband, who is supposed to be my boyfriend, looked pretty cosy back there.” Alya snorts. “I’ve got to ask, what is your secret? He doesn’t snuggle with me like that anymore.”

“Nino likes to be the little spoon,” Adrien says sagely. “It makes him feel secure.”

“Too bad you’re like three feet tall, Al.”

“Shut up, Mari! You’re only three inches taller than me!”

“Actually, I’m five inches taller than you.”

“Well, I have a foot on both of you so I win.”

The two girls turn to face him and Adrien is certain that if looks could kill, he would be dead twice over. He grins sheepishly in response and rubs the back of his neck. Thankfully, the traffic starts moving and Alya is forced to turn her attention back to the road. Marinette narrows her eyes at him once more before she too turns to face the road.

Adrien can’t be certain but he swears that there is something in the way she looks at him, even when annoyed at him, that surpasses everything. He’s only really started to notice it recently, but for a fleeting moment he is sure of it. Upon reflection, he decides that he is deluding himself. There’s no way. Marinette is just a really good friend. That’s all.

As she turns back to the front of the car, Marinette gulps slightly. There was something strange about the way Adrien has been looking at her recently. Not strange in a bad way, but strange in a new way. His expression seems softer and there’s something different reflected in his eyes. For a second she thinks – no. In her head, she laughs at herself. She’s just projecting her own feelings onto him, she rationalises. He just sees her as a friend. That’s it.

[lovehotelreservation]

Someday the Prince Will Come - Daydream

Summary: Thanks to Chauffeur Prompto, a bumpy car ride in the Regalia leaves Noctis in agony. Not so much that Prompto is driving (horribly) while trying to escape the pursuit of Magitek ships, but because you’re seated on his lap as this occurs.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Noctis

DON’T LOOK AT ME I’M WEAK TO PRINCES VOICED BY TATSUN OKAY

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

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

After a long, tiresome day full of nothing but bullshit, Noctis's go-to form of comfort was simply napping away his stress.

But there was simply no way he couldn't fall asleep.

And your presence beside him was the reason why, which only seemed to agonize him more since you--unintentionally so--were the cause of his predicament in the first place.

At this time, Noctis bit his lip, staring up at the tent that he was currently sharing with you, upon the campgrounds that you both along with his friends fled to.

As successful as it was to retrieve the Sword of the Tall--and that emerald that Dino sent the five of you on yet another fetch quest for--leaving was not exactly the same. The teleportation pad near that godforsaken puzzle of a labyrinth broke in the midst of fighting off a pack of Galvandes, which meant that you all had to fight your way back to the entrance. Given the time, the morning sun would be rising within less than an hour, and neither of you wanted to be trapped within a tower that only opened to the darkness of night.

A tight schedule was an understatement.

However, by the power of unshakeable resolve--and the fact that sans you and Ignis, the other three were operating at extreme levels of hangry--you all made it out just in time, even if Gladiolus ended up getting a deep gash to his leg by the swipe of a stray, resilient Thunder Bomb. Though, upon stepping out into the morning light of a new day, relief quickly washed over all five of you as you could hear the entrance to the Costlemark Tower dungeon close.

...Only for an awaiting ship of Magitek troopers to open up and unleash a full-frontal attack.

Exhausted by a full night's endeavor through a treacherous tower--and with Gladiolus weakened by an injured leg--neither of you would be able to stand against another wave of assault.

Thus, it seemed logical for all five of you to make a run back to the Regalia.

However, you thought to at least bide the other four some time--Gladiolus to have his leg looked over by Ignis, with either Noctis or, as much as you would hope otherwise, Prompto starting up the car. Though tired as you were, you still had some fight to stand against Niflheim's dolls.

Only for you to get hoisted up into Noctis's arms--him grumbling "Oi, no need to play hero. We're getting the hell out of here!"--before he carried you back to the car. As expected, Gladiolus was laying across the back seat, his teeth clenched tight while Ignis tended to the gash, keeping his leg across his lap. With--oh dear God--Prompto in the driver's seat, all it left was the passenger seat for you and Noctis to sit upon.

Well, for him to sit while you were seated upon his lap.

A clean getaway it was not, unfortunately.

As in, while you all eventually managed to evade the Magitek troops, a frantic, determined, adrenaline-fueled Prompto behind the wheel made you all wish that you stayed back to fight.

"Don't worry guys, I'll get us to safety!" Prompto chirped while deciding to take a detour off-road.

The decision across rocky, unstable terrain made you all jump at near second intervals. With navigation mostly done by Ignis, you were certain that Prompto didn't even know where he was going. The random bumps, the shaking of the car, the uncertainty, it made you cling to Noctis, playing off your unease with a muttered, "We are so fucked."

While the prince wanted to say something in return, all he could utter out was a faint noise of agreement, for he was locked in his own battle, a one-on-one between him and his body. With you seated on his lap, the jumps and shakes of the Regalia made you unintentionally bounce and press down against his lap. Not to mention, with you so close, your arms wrapped tightly around him, your demeanor clinging and seeking him for comfort, it didn't take much longer for his black pants to feel suffocating and tight. Hearing your words didn't help his situation either, as it only drew forth the image of you lying naked beneath him, that same vulnerable, innocent expression on your face as you pleaded for him to comfort you with his dick.

Furthermore, having feelings for you wasn't the easiest to deal with, especially with this ongoing struggle against the Niflheim Empire. The two of you were meant to stick to your roles: he, your prince, and you, his Crownsguard. He trusted his friends dearly, with his life even, but with you, there was something unique in that trust. A vulnerable yet yearning one, a hope to receive love while swearing to devote everything of himself to you.

He winced at himself.

God, when did he become such a goddamn sap?

"Well then," Ignis began from the back, dragging Noctis out of his reverie while balancing potions and bandages in his hand. "Since Prompto insists on driving us to our demise, shall I lead us all in prayer?"

Gladiolus bit back a hiss as the sting from one of the applied healing salves began to flare up. "In that case, shit, anyone got some hot water? Let me at least have one last Cup Noodle before Noct's old man welcomes us with a gift basket."

"Psh, is that how you're gonna treat your savior?" Prompto pouted, glaring at the two via the rear-view mirror. However, just veering his eyes off the road for that moment caused him to not notice a sudden dip in the road--or lack thereof.

The drop made you shriek and cling to Noctis tighter. Without a second's delay, his arms wrapped around you tightly in comfort. Both for you and for him, as you bounced up from his lap and landed back down hard. It took everything for him to not groan, his thoughts assembling a silent prayer that you would somehow remain unaware of how stiff his cock had become.

However, the only reason why you were jostling around on his lap--as wonderful as it felt--was because of your driver. In turn, his head snapped towards Prompto, as did his tongue. "My dad used this car to transport royalty on goodwill trips through Insomnia, not for zooming across the goddamn Rock of Ravatogh!"

Prompto faced him, suddenly sporting a stone-cold serious expression, "Noct, I know this is gonna be a shock, but your old man was actually holding illegal street races back in Insomnia." His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly. "He was practicing for this very moment-- Holy shit, Iggy!"

The blonde slid back--or moreso was pushed aside--as Ignis bent over the driver's seat, seizing the wheel with an iron-clad grip. Neither you or Noctis had to move your heads to see what kind of hauntingly fearsome expression was on Ignis's otherwise calm and relaxed face.

It was merely something that could be felt.

"Prompto. Keep both feet on the gas and brake. I will be in charge of our lives now."

Shrinking back into the driver's seat, Prompto meekly remarked, "...Yes, sir."

This horrendous driving arrangement somehow worked so much better than Prompto being the main driver.

It was too long before you all managed to successfully elude and hide away from the Magitek ships. Though with everything that the five you went through, it wasn't too out of place for you all to become at ease like everything was to its norm once camp was set up in the midst of a forest clearing.

As soon as the car parked at last, Noctis was tempted to leap out and kiss the ground, but was even more in love with the idea of possessing your lips with his while firmly rutting his erect cock against your hips.

But there was no way he could bring himself to do so. Just becoming hard during the trip was embarrassment enough.

Though, the flustered feeling turned into the agony that he was currently experiencing.

Even with breakfast--or was it brunch?--and the light of day inescapable, Noctis was laying in the tent shared with you, still utterly erect from earlier. There was no time to relieve himself, since Ignis, who seemed to have become actually amped from the morning drive, to whip up a full breakfast almost out of thin air. Pancakes, bacon, freshly-squeezed juice, it was a well-deserved feast.

Without question, today would be one of rest. Ignis and Gladiolus were making stops back and forth from the tent out into the forest clearing to forrage for ingredients, or hunt for meat. To amend for his sins from earlier, Prompto was to painstakingly clean the Regalia of mud and grime while also make note of any damages in case that Cindy would be needed to fix things up.

You and Noctis both decided to take on the responsibility of napping on behalf of the three.

Well, you were napping, while he was kept wide awake by sexual frustration.

He was far too exhausted to leave the tent, even if he was okay with expending whatever energy would be needed to relieve his desire. Gladiolus and Ignis's returns to camp happened in a timely, frequent manner. If Prompto saw him, he would become nosy and follow him around, which--when the blonde would eventually be caught for goofing off--would only get him in hot water for not making sure that progress on the Regalia was being made.

Here, he was being taunted by the soft sound of your breathing, of your body heat emanating from your skin.

What he would give to have you straddle his hips and ride his cock right now, your chest exposed and left open for him to reach up and touch, or even yank you down to kiss your skin up close.

A moment to ponder his next course of action.

"Goddamn it," Noctis cursed quietly under his breath before shifting to his side, facing away from you.

The next few moments--because god knows he was not going to last long with how pent-up he was--would have to be spent as quick and quietly as possible. He inhaled slowly, his eyes shutting away from the tent wall before him, losing themselves to the darkness of his fantasies.

Rather than it be his own hand swiftly undoing his belt and the zipper to his pants, the only other acceptable option would be yours--perhaps frantic and needy in your own desire for him.

He shuddered at the thought.

"Noctis...Prince Noctis, I don't think I can stand another moment without you...!"

Taken with great pleasure, he would hush your mouth with his, a low sultriness to his voice as he demanded that you to refer to him as 'king' instead.

A near-molten like heat spread through his chest and ears, right as he grabbed his erect cock through his boxers, rubbing his palm through the fabric, causing him to arch into his own hand. What an ideal that would be.

Though, not to tease himself at all--having gone through enough of that today--he grabbed at the waistline of his pants and boxers, tugging and shimmying out of both, not to completely disrobe, but to at least free himself at long last. He held back an eager groan just from the fabric running against his erection. Horrendously sensitive and hot, he never feel so desperate for relief.

As planned, he was sure to not dawdle on this any longer.

Noctis brought his hand to his lips, licking against his palm generously before--at least--wrapping his fingers around his cock. Hot, stiff, with a generous amount of pre-cum leaking at the tip.

Smugly, he wondered how you could resist a treat.

Though, that pride only spurred on his fantasy and the jerking motion of his hand.

What he wouldn't give than to have your lips wrapped around his cock, your tongue eager to taste, your mouth hungry to be filled. And while he would be happy to sate your indulgence of him, he wouldn't let you have your way so easily. Rather, he could picture himself sitting--maybe the throne back home--with his hand stroking your hair, all while he has you kneel before him. His fingers gripping his cock, he would press the wet tip against your mouth and your cheeks, but never letting it slip past your lips.

You had to beg for it, after all--to show your respects to your king.

And when you fulfilled your obligations, he would gladly reward you by fucking your mouth, letting you savor the taste and girth of his cock.

Noctis's teeth seized his bottom lip, having already worked his hand to a rushed, frantic pace. He tried his best to resist from letting his hips squirm around, while making sure to not let the pumps of his enclosed fist to be too noisy--you were sleeping right next to him after all.

But it was hard to not do so, as his mind drifted to--once he was done with your mouth--you riding his lap. Your hands gripping his shoulders, your head tossed back, your breasts right in front of his mouth while you bounced on his cock. The moans you would emit echoing throughout the throne room, your praises and love for your king freely escaping your lips.

And this would certainly not be a one-way exchange.

His hands seizing your hips, he would be adamant to thrust up into you as you swiveled your pelvis down. Your chest would be marred by kisses and bites as he laid claim to territory that would never be touched by anyone else.

"What the hell did you do to me?" He rasped to himself, shuddering as he circled the tip of his cock with his thumb, now throbbing incessantly. Sweat gathered at his brow, he shuddered and groaned out your name before he returned to pumping his cock, now without restraint with his orgasm just moments within reach.

If you weren't awake by now, he shouldn't have to worry--though, he made a note to ask how exactly you were able to sleep through near anything.

Noctis thought back to the car ride, to how you were jostled around on his lap, to you how clung to him for support. If only, oh if only, he could have that again, albeit by the direction of his fantasies.

He then clamped a hand against his mouth, just a few seconds before he groaned into his palm, his hips jutting forward as he came. The sensation of hot, wet warmth spilled onto his fingers and he let out a noise of relief.

His heart racing from the rush of adrenaline, he felt peace at last, especially from today.

Now was just a matter of finding some tissues to clean his palm with and--

"Need a hand?"

Noctis froze.

He paled.

He refrained from looking back.

That was you who spoke to him. No question.

Though, from what he fathomed, you didn't sound too groggy--

His eyes widened.

Shit, were you aware this whole time?

Cursing at himself, Noctis brought his hand away from his mouth, thinking of what believable excuse he could pass off to you at this time--

"Aww Noct, don't be shy~"

Did you just...coo to him?

Still conflicted about whether to turn about or not, he remained in place.

Which only seemed to give you incentive to reach for his stained hand, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

Now he had no choice but to look at you.

To look into your eyes.

To witness the grin that was on your face as you brought his hand to your mouth, your tongue flittering out to lick his palm clean.

Surely he was dreaming--

No. This was no time to question it.

If he was sleeping, then may this dream last as long as possible.

Noctis's voice--already gravely and thick with desire--lowered into a growl as he seized your chin, "More than just a hand. Gimme everything you got."

The knowing look in your eyes twinkled with a wicked glint as you hummed,

"As you wish, Prince Noctis~"

[stylesdimplefeelings]

“You have sent the fanbase into a frenzy! And why’re you wearing like three layers of clothing? It’s barely cold out.”

Harry looks at his surroundings when he receives the text whilst simultaneously unlocking his car door.

“What do ye’ mean? I’ve not done anything! But how do you know what I’m wearing? I’ve not even started the drive to yours.”

“I think you underestimate my fifth sense when it comes to you, babe! Haha no, woke up to tweets about your long-expected-finally-showing curls. But seriously Haz, aren’t you burning up under all that?”

“Oh, I knew I wasn’t walking alone! You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But not really. Feeling a bit under the weather actually.”

“Harry, meeting my parents can’t be that bad that you’re faking being sick. They’re gonna love you, trust me.”

“I’m not trying to get out of going to your parents, kitten. M'really not feeling well. Been taking medicine so hopefully I’ll be better before we make our trip out.”

“Uh huh, let’s hope you’re not lying to me! It’s probably just anxiety, you’ll get over it.”

“M'not! Promise. Heading over now though. I’ll see you in a bit, pet. Love you xx”

“‘Kay! Love you, too! xo”

***

“Should have really at least taken the hoodie off, babe. Your hair’s damp and I don’t think it’s from rain!”

Y/N opens the door as soon as she hears his car alarm beep, Harry making his way up the steps to her place. He’s wearing his beanie, hair curling out from under it, and she can see why his fans went crazy.

She opens the door further to allow him to step inside, receiving him with a peck to the lips before shutting the door and helping him with his bag.

“Yeah, feeling a bit hot now, actually.”

She watches as he toes off his shoes. And she really shouldn’t gawk at how broad he looks as he raises his arms up and reaches to grasp the hoodie from behind, ridding his body of the thick garment in one swift move as he pulls it over his head. And then again to remove yet another sweater, leaving him in a white tee.

She walks over to the sitting area and sets his bag on the sofa when Harry throws his shorts over her head, chuckling loudly before walking over and engulfing her in a hug, pecking her head in adoration.

“Harry!” She whines, grabbing the shorts and aimlessly throwing them on top of his bag.

But her whines are drowned with the sudden press of Harry’s lips on hers, pecking lightly at first. One peck. And then he pulls away to look down at her, her lips pulled up into a smile now. Another peck. And he pulls away again, this time earning a light giggle. On the third kiss, he keeps his lips on hers a bit longer, his hands now on the small of her back, pressing her flush against him.

And for a minute Y/N had forgotten Harry is wearing a pair of white tights, but she’s suddenly reminded when she feels his bulge pressing against her, not in a sexual way or anything, but it makes it all the more…innocent? Having Harry so close. Being able to reach out and wrap her arms around his neck, playfully tugging at his beanie until she finally takes it off and puts it on her own head.

And it’s then that he breaks the kiss, with a light whisper of “m'gonna get ye’ sick, too, poppet.”

But she disregards the comment, instead she looks him over. The crinkles by his eyes from how he smiles down at her, puffy for some reason, his lips plump and pink from having just kissed her, his hair just a tad disheveled from having just taken the beanie off.

“If you’re as sick as you say, on you go for a shower!” She pecks his lips one last time before bringing a hand down to his bum and giving him a playful pat.

“M'not fakin’ t'get out of meetin’ ye’ parents, kit'en.”

Harry knuckles at his eyes, his other hand running down her arm to take her hand in his, his rings cold on her skin. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of her hand lightly before taking a few steps backwards. And he smirks when he sees Y/N’s eyes linger down south. But she doesn’t even try to hide it, eyes dancing on the verge of lust at the view of Harry’s outlined cock. Tights much too tight that it leaves little to the imagination, and they surely outline it perfectly. It’s when Harry clears his throat that she finally comes back out of her own thoughts.

“Can take a shower with me if ye’ wan’, poppet. Wouldn’t mind it at all.” And he brings his fingers down to the top of his tights, thumb sneaking past the waist band to adjust himself.

“Harry, stop!” Y/N’s laugh echoes through the house and she glares at Harry, but he just winks at her, “but as much as I’d love to, I have to finish packing. Now go!”

With out another word, Harry begins his walk to her room, but not before wiggling his bum her way, earning a giggle.

And Y/N can’t believe that after all this time, Harry still has the power to make her feel weak. Heart thumping, chest tightening, butterflies in her tummy weak.

***

The drive to her parents has been nothing less than a nightmare. Y/N would have counted on a complying Harry, but all he seems to be doing is complaining. At first, the car is too hot and the air is barely “breathable.” Then, after turning on the A/C, in which moment Y/N has to put on a sweater because even though Harry is hot, she is rather chilly, he complains about a headache. And after that it becomes too cold, and not only does Y/N have to take her sweater off for the third time, but now she’s also having to take her top off. And she would’ve appreciated Harry’s comment about how much he loves when she’s not wearing a top any other day, but at that particular moment the compliment’s only made her all the more frustrated.

So now, the drive’s become more of a chore than she would’ve liked. She doesn’t wanna press on Harry’s illness, knowing he’s probably just feeling anxious. But she does think he should maybe tone it down a bit and stop being so melodramatic.

Harry’s really beating himself up though. Doesn’t want Y/N thinking he’s actually trying to avoid meeting her parents. He’s been eager to make the trip ever since he first pitched the idea, and c'mon, if he didn’t wanna meet them he wouldn’t have even brought it up. Y/N was always going on about how she thought it might be too soon. How she didn’t want her parents to over step their boundaries and judge him because he’s Harry Styles and he might not be living the lifestyle they’d want their daughter to surround herself with. But after much convincing, she’d caved, and Harry’s been ecstatic since then.

So yeah, he really doesn’t like upsetting his Y/N, and he’ll prove he’s not backing out from this even if he ends up in the hospital.

After hours of silence, they finally arrive, but Y/N still doesn’t utter a word. Instead, she opens the car door as soon as Harry’s pulled into the driveway and putthe car on park.

She opens the boot and helps out with the duffle bags, leaving Harry to carry the bigger suitcase. And he has to find the strength in him to pull it out of the boot, stumbling back a bit from the force, his eyes blurry and head woozy. But he takes a deep breath and continues to lock the car before catching up behind Y/N, who’s leading the way to her parents’ home.

From the moment he steps foot inside, he feels it. He feels the warmth that a home should have. Pictures decorate the walls, personalising its surroundings. Y/N’s parents meet him with tight hugs and comments of how happy they are to finally meet Harry. Y/N’s mom makes a comment on how handsome he is, and he swears she might have even blushed when Harry smiles at her. Her dad greets him with a 'son’ and Harry likes the sound of that.

Y/N excuses them after a moment, telling her parents she’s gonna settle them in her old bedroom real quick before having to head down for an early dinner.

Harry trails behind her, luggage in hand. She sets their stuff down on the end of the bed they’ll be sleeping in, shuffling about to unpack the necessities. Harry just watches her body move around the room, clearly still remembering where everything should go. He stands by the door quietly, fiddling with his rings and biting the inside of his cheek because he really just wishes she’d stop being mad at him, wishes she can just look at him at least. And he can feel the worry lines begin to form on his forehead, his lips pulled into a line in thought of how he’s gonna make this up to her. Not that it’s any of his fault, but he just can’t stand to see her upset.

But he continues to stand there, fingers running through his damp hair, eyes drowsy. And it’s not until he yawns that Y/N finally pays him any attention since they left her place.

She walks over to him and brings a hand to cup his cheek. She stands on her toes and brings her lips to his forehead in a light kiss. “Take a nap, babe. I’ll come get you when the food’s done.”

Harry complies easily at that, toes his shoes off and sneaks under the covers.

***

Y/N isn’t sure why Harry’s still asleep. She dragged making dinner as long as she could so he can rest longer, but for some reason Harry’s still upstairs.

“Be right back mum, gonna go get Harry.”

She makes her way to the room, peeking the door open, the room just a bit brightened by what’s left of daylight seeping through the window curtains. It’s odd, when Harry’s asleep there’s usually a wheezing sound, a sound that soothes her ears when they’re laid in bed. But the room is oddly quiet. She sees his body stir a bit, and it’s when he painfully grunts that she walks to stand over him, peeling the covers back just a bit.

“Oh my god, babe,” her heart just about stops at the sight of him. Paler than usual, lips a bright pink against his complexion. “You’re soaked in sweat.”

She removes the cover all the way then, tugging at his arm for him to sit up.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me?” The worry in her voice breaks Harry’s heart, he thinks he really should have taken more medicine.

“Tried t’.” His body is weakly slumped, head hanging because he doesn’t even have enough strength to hold it up.

She’s working to get his drenched shirt up and off, tossing it elsewhere before pulling the covers around his shoulders.

“Oh I’m so sorry, sweets. Crap I’m really really sorry. You did try to tell me.”

“S'fine, kit'en.” He’s rubbing at his eyes tirelessly as Y/N walks away and back, towel in hand. She runs the soft cloth over his face, down to his chest, and wherever else she can reach before bringing it up to his hair. Seeing how week he is, she then helps him put on another shirt.

“It’s not.” She takes her hand to his forehead, and she almost loses it at how hot he feels. And god does she feel awful. Knows she should have believed him, or at least made sure and checked him.

With out a single word, she runs out of the room, and explains to her parents how sick Harry is before running back and taking a seat next to Harry who’s now lying back down, covers tucked under his arm.

He feels her tap at his shoulder to get him to face her, and gulps down the spoonful of medicine she gives him before she tells him her parents have called their doctor over.

“M'sorry for ruinin’ our first day here, lit'el one.”

“Oh no no,” as if she hadn’t felt bad enough, now HE’S the one apologising for being sick, that’s just like Harry to do that.

She wraps an arm under and around Harry’s shoulder, shushing him as she pulls his body closer to hers, her fingers trailing under where his eyes have swollen before tangling in his hair in soothing strokes. She kisses where his eyebrow arches, and Harry can only bury his face in her neck then, pursing his lips to lay a gentle kiss on her neck.

“G'na take care o’ me now?” His glossy green eyes look up at her, the lines on his forehead prominent.

“Until you’re all better, babe.”

Harry hums at that, and even though he’s sick and feeling awful, having Y/N with him, fingers running through his hair, help more than he can ever ever express.

[flowwriter]

The Oracle of ∇φ

The party headed down a long winding path, already exhausted from the days conquests, and still heavy with the knowledge that they must carry on. The path to the old Soothsayer was so well obscured that one could be obscured for missing it completely, and yet once the dense, lush fern was trodden down a small, yet clearly well-worn path emerged in front of them.

The party had been walking for well over an hour when Farnus, the token human of the group, slouched his aching shoulders and bemoaned “This guy better be fucking legit or I swear to God..’ before tailing off entirely.

The halfling cleric accompanying them, named Zensys, was quick to pull Farnus even closer to the brink of hopelessness ‘Or what Farnus? You’ll miss all your axe swings like you did back in Drittensmith? Don’t think we’ve forgotten.’

Farnus, for the second time in as many minutes, silently enjoyed a vision of himself after he had finished this job. Alone, no-one to bother him, no crazy old voodoo prophets to deal with, no halfling brat to make him question his alignment, pure and utter serenity. This bubble was, unsurprisingly, burst, by Koralath, the Goliath, who after careful consideration selected about one of 10 phrases that he knew in Common to express dissatisfaction. A hearty “This. Sucks. No. Point” bellowed forth from his mighty lungs, each word punctuated by a loud stomp. Before either party member could complain of their subsequent splitting headache, the stillness of the summer air was cut with a loud shriek:

“FUCK!”

The party immediately lost their calm composure and assumed a battle stance. Koralath even managed to process that this wasn’t a time for loud oafishness, progress that Farnus quietly appreciated, as the last time stealthiness was required, Koralath had cost the party quite a lot of HP by loudly asking nobody in particular where the nearest tavern was.

Even more surprisingly, a young tired-looking elf immerged, from seemingly (even to Zensys’ trained eyes) nowhere at all. He was dark-skinned, long-eared and fairly lanky, carrying himself as if he was unfamiliar with his build. His tired, yet sharp and analytical eyes, panned across the general area that the party occupied through his long unkempt hair, which covered an unreasonable portion of his face.

Apparently oblivious to his almost certain demise at one of the most respected parties in all of the North, he suddenly acknowledged the heroes with a start, only to stare at them indignantly, before somehow confidently complaining:

“You’re about 14 seconds late! You –“ He pointed an accusatory finger at Zensys “had the audacity to chat up that barmaid for a few extra seconds this morning didn’t you? She is gay, incidentally, although she doesn’t realise that for three more hours, so it was all wasted anyway.”

This outburst had a markedly different effect on each of the heroes. Koralath’s brain simply chose to reject the information entirely, instead delighting itself with a fantasy of the small elf’s imminent slaughter. Farnus’ brain, if it could have, would have rolled its eyes and done a little finger gun motion towards its head. However, it soon settled back into its familiar groove of assessing the new enemies’ weak spots.

Zensys brain, understand every word perfectly, and was almost convinced its body to run back and confess its undying love to the aforementioned barmaid. It reasoned that it was better than wasting her time galivanting with her companions, one of which was almost bound to double-cross her, as this was the way things generally worked.

Without any regard for the internal journeys each party member was taking, the curious elf continued. “Look, I appreciate the mental taxation that took on you, but if we take more than about a minute and a half here I can’t reasonably apply the Central Limit Theorem anymore and if that happens I think I’m gonna scream’

This was the final straw for both Farnus and Koralath, who simueltaneously drew their weapons, falling back on their most basic warrior instincts. The young elf began to leisurely flip through a small, tattered notebook retrieved from a concealed pocket. Koralath’s brain, having first began what can only be described as a blue screen, swang wildly at the elf’s head.

Unfazed, the elf stayed stationary. Koralath’s swing, almost in spite, careened a wild path through the air before cratering a mere two inches from the elfs side. Apparently, untroubled, the elf continued:

“NO, sorry, you were twe- ELEVEN seconds late. You don’t add a constant when integrating I through that first order differentiation product rule trick do you? Im ever so sorry. Would you like to come in? NO” He hastily scribbled through several lines of illegible symbols on the notebook. “TEN and a half MAX. And also it…” Another scribbling “doesn’t matter whether you want to or not, you WILL follow me in about three or four seconds regardless”.

The party, all now suffering terrible headaches, did indeed follow suit. Single file, they mopily trundled through the dense underbrush towards a hut which, although commonsense told them it was purposely built, seemed almost accidentally put together.

The confusing elf had left the door open behind him, and the party followed suit.

What they saw before them almost turned their stomachs. Hundreds of pages of scrawled writing coated each wall. A large, dark, once proud desk lay sunken into the ground. Piles of textbooks surrounded its border, and the party’s only clue to the huts inhabitants was a sliver of brown hair peaking over the top of them all.

Indeed, the elvish oracle was sat in a ornate, yet tattered armchair in almost the direct centre of the room. Although none of the party would here, he muttered ‘Told you’ under his breath before rising.

“MATHEMATICS!” He exclaimed. None of the party had an idea what he meant. Koralath added ‘kill goblin named ‘mathematics’??” to his mental to-do list.

The elf, wide eyed and clearly finished waiting for any intellectual input from the bewildered adventurers, continued.

“You see, all these oracles and soothsayers trying to predict the future with runes and smoke and ritualistic sacrifices –“ Farnus’ perked up, ritualistic sacrifices was his weekend hobby, “all rot! Its nothing more than taking an integral over all space and then all – sorry DOUBLE integral – and then all time. Because you know d-t and d-S is just a function of...yeah… And then, that’s an axiom! Well, its, I mean not really but I’m the only one doing – yeah, doing this. So its an axiom, anyway yeah this horrible function comes out, but its like, that’s why I can’t, and No-one can predict exactly. In fact, we, well I only found analytical solutions like a few weeks ago, but, even then its not elementary and-‘.

Beyond this point, no living being, apart from the elf himself, registered the specifics of his diatribe, and as such the rest was lost to history.  Zensys was the first to awake from the spell of the elves’ rhythmically pulsing speech, and found her emotions turn to anger.

“Look, you incel little bitch, can you help us out or not-“

The elf, taking Zensys’ words very slightly to late to feign that he was at all paying attention to anyone but himself, again perked up.

“Oh yes, of course, just let me uh…’ and so he took away to the grand battered arm chair, made a wide sweep with his arm to remove what almost seemed like important documents from his table, and began frantically scratching a weather quill across a piece of hard flaky parchment.

If the adventurers had hoped that this moment would hold them in great and suspenseful intimidation, they would have been disappointed. Not for the lack of expertise by the elf, but by his constant muttering and exclaiming, as well as his seemingly incessant need for someone to tell him how smart he was, as evidenced by his constant glancing to the three heroes for even the slightest validation.

About 10 scrawled, illegible pages of random symbols (3 of which had been crumpled up and thrown to the floor in anger), the soothsayer began to grunt ever so more excitedly, until at a sudden burst he sprang forth from his well defined groove in his ancient seat.

“OK, so whom now the rolling dunes may cover, he shall be your saviour and ours forevermore, well for an arbitrarily long period of time, I just took the limit from an arbitrary direction. And those who were quelled under something which calls itself the ‘Lost Great One’” He took just a moment to assess the relative not-greatness of his visitors. “Yeah, good luck with that one guys, will rise at least a whole multiple of twice more before the end of days. Oh but OH! You will succeed, yeah the second derivative is positive, so you will reach a global maximum here.” He seemed, unsurprisingly to at least Farnus, amazed at his own derivation. He added an extra layer of insufferability by adding “Gotta say guys, it usually doesn’t work out this well, and I do this all the time.”

Farnus, having counted to 10 at least 3 times since the start of the second painful diatribe spoken by the elf who was looking easier and easier to kill by the second, quickly interjected “yes, yes, wonderful thankyou so much, oh brainy one. We’ll be on our way now”

The elf, seemingly impervious to registering the feelings of others, mentioned to the backs of the party members “Oh don’t forget to drop by again soon!”

But as soon as the rickety door closed behind the large frame of Koralath, he realised that a simple derivation would prove that they wouldn’t. Which was a shame, he soon realised, as not even a second after his heel had turned to begin a well deserved afternoon nap in the comfortable armchair, he realised that “Oh shit, the second derivative is positive which means it’s a global minimum, so well they’re doomed to, oh” – all of which was muttered out loud too. It was, he consoled himself with, going to be an interesting adventure.